‘Are you annoyed we called her? We were worried about you.’
I sniff. ‘I mean, she’ll not let me out of her sight now, but you probably did the right thing.’ I check that Mum and Cormac are still in the shop. ‘This is insane, right?’
‘Just a bit,’ says Meg. ‘I’m gutted you didn’t get a photo of theTitanic.’
‘The vision was enough for me. Well, for the both of us.’
Meg nods. ‘It’s weird that you didn’t take one at the time though. Right?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Didn’t you have your camera with you?’
‘Yeah, I’d gone out to take some photos on the deck.’
‘But you didn’t take any?’
I close my eyes and try to remember. I had the camera in my hand, I think. ‘Maybe, but that’s the camera and memory card that were destroyed.’
Meg stares out of the window.
‘What is it?’
She says nothing for a bit too long then turns back. ‘Doesn’t matter. OK, so any photos you might’ve taken are gone. Then how did you remember?’
I shrug. ‘I don’t know. I heard the seagull, then the camera flashed and—’
‘And it all came back. That hasn’t happened before, right?’
‘Yeah.’
‘So, what if you can re-trigger the things you’ve forgotten?’
My brain hurts. ‘How would I know if I’ve forgotten them?’
Meg sighs. ‘Well, think about it. When andwheredid you also have a blackout?’
My stomach squirms. ‘Nan’s garden.’
‘I know you don’t want to think about why your dad kept this a secret from her. But what if you saw something there? Something important that you’ve forgotten.’ She chews her lip. ‘We have to find out what happened.’
I don’t like this. Frustration tightens like a band across my head. Meg seems determined not to trust my nan. Even if Dad was keeping something from her, that doesn’t mean she’s done anything wrong. He was full of secrets.
‘Maybe, but can you leave it with my nan.’
Meg breathes out. ‘OK. Sorry.’ She glances out of the window. ‘They’re coming back. You still coming to Paul’s tonight?’
I shrug. ‘Probably.’
The people pleaser in me wants to shift this mood and pretend I’m not a bit pissed at Meg for going on about my nan, but I’m tired and I’ve had a few spats with her today. So I leave her to talk to Mum until we drop her off and head home.
We get back to find Nanny Bet there, sitting with Sheila at the dining table, sipping a coffee. My neck sweats and I tighten my grip on my backpack. The pinhole camera inside seems to double in weight.
‘Look who’s here,’ says Sheila, her eyebrows raised.
‘Bet, how’re you?’ Mum says.
Nanny Bet stares at me as she answers. ‘I was calling down just to say hello, and Sheila told me Michael was unwell.’
