I went to the door of the room, and looked over my shoulder. Nelly was lying still, her face no longer twisted in pain.
‘Goodbye, Nell,’ I said aloud. ‘See you again someday.’
I shifted the chair out of the way of the door. Then I straightened up, opened the door and saw, with a start, that Jackson was standing a little way outside the room, looking in.
‘Elsie,’ he said.
Our eyes met and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that he had been watching the whole time. He knew what I’d done.
Chapter 36
Stephanie
Present day
When I arrived at Nan’s room, the doctor was just leaving.
‘Hello there,’ she called as I came along the corridor.
I hurried over. ‘Is she all right?’
‘She’s fine now. She was a bit flustered earlier. Confused. Go on in – I’m sure she’ll like to see you.’
Nan was asleep in her chair. I sat next to her and waited for her to wake up. I put the book on the floor next to me, then I took out my phone and typed a message to my dad.
“I’m with Nan,” I wrote. “She’s fine but she won’t always be fine.” No point in beating around the bush when it came to my dad. “You should call her.”
I pressed send and put the phone back in my pocket. And when I looked back at Nan, she was awake. She looked right at me.
‘Max is in prison,’ she said.
Her words hit me like a hammer blow and made me gasp. How did she know? ‘He is, Nan.’
‘Can’t say it’s a surprise. He attracts trouble like honey attracts bees.’
I laughed.
‘He wrote to me.’
Startled, I looked at her closely, wondering if she was getting confused again. ‘Really? Are you sure? Where’s the letter, Nan?’
She blinked at me, and I scanned the room. On the bedside table was an envelope. I picked it up and waved it at her.
‘Can I look?’
‘What is it?’
‘A letter.’
‘I don’t get letters now,’ Nan said. ‘No one writes letters anymore.’
I slid the paper out of the envelope. There was one page addressed to Nan. It was typical Max. Full of bravado and charm and perfect for Nan, I thought. And then, tucked inside the envelope was another page. This one was folded into quarters and had my name on the front. I breathed in sharply and for a bewildering moment I thought Max had already replied to the letter I’d only just sent him but that was impossible.
‘I wrote to Max today,’ I told my grandmother, who was watching me. ‘Our letters must have crossed.’
‘Right pair of Charlies,’ she said.
Feeling my heart thump, I unfolded the note. Inside, Max had drawn his version of my television. Beneath it, he’d written: “Sorry.” And beneath that, he’d drawn the volume dial turned up to max. I turned the page over but it was blank on the other side. That was it. He was a man of few words, my brother. But it turned out that one word was all I needed.
