‘I only want you to tell me the things that are,’ Cristy assured her.
Nicole blinked, as if she was losing track of what was being said.
‘Did you give the twins to him?’ Cristy asked.
Nicole nodded, then shook her head. ‘Yes. No – not him. I didn’t give them to anyone.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Cristy looked up as Maeve and Honey returned, and over the next few minutes, as teas and sugar were handed around, she took the time to work out where she should go next in this complicated tangle of memories and emotions that Nicole was apparently trapped inside.
When everyone finally had their tea, Nicole said, ‘Let’s record now, shall we?’
Still not entirely comfortable with it, Cristy looked to Honey for guidance.
Maeve said, ‘As long as you don’t use it before we’ve found the twins.’
Cristy wondered if Maeve was aware that Claude Meyer might know where they were – presuming Nicole was to be believed, and right at this moment, Cristy had no idea what she thought about that. She gave Connor the signal to begin.
Her eyes were on Nicole as she considered the best way to continue their chat. In the end, she decided to go back a way, rather than pick up from where they’d left off – it would be interesting to see if she got the same answers.
CRISTY: ‘We were talking about Claude Meyer just now …’
There was the smile again: a breaking through of the young girl she used to be, a connection with something insidethat clearly made her feel good, even seemed to free her in a way. Her voice was warm and steady as she spoke; her eyes focused elsewhere.
NICOLE: ‘His visits were what kept us both going. We couldn’t have carried on without them.’
CRISTY: ‘Can you tell me what you talked about when he came?’
NICOLE: ‘I can’t use words the way he does, but everything he said … He could take me out of my surroundings, smooth away all the pain, so that I didn’t see or feel where I was any more. When he’s with me, all I see is him or what he’s describing: the places, the people, the music, the paintings … He can be very funny when he talks about the animals. I’m longing to see them for real.’
CRISTY: ‘What sort of animals?’
NICOLE: ‘All sorts.’
CRISTY: ‘Do you know where they are?’
NICOLE: ‘For the moment, they’re safely stored up here.’
She tapped her head, and the look in her eyes, though still distant, seemed oddly joyful.
Cristy glanced at Maeve, hoping she might say something, but she didn’t. It wasn’t even clear from her expression whether or not she was listening, but of course she was.
NICOLE: ‘Mum visited me a lot too, didn’t you? And Dad before he died. That was the most awful time … I never got to see him, to say goodbye … There’s a lot of cruelty in prison – rules that only hurt people and never do any good. That’s one of the hardest parts … I don’t want to go back …’
She began crying, and Maeve went to comfort her.
MAEVE: ‘We’re very grateful for her release, but there are still so many restrictions on where she can go, who she can talk to, how often she has to report to the authorities. It’s really not possible for her to restart her life. Not yet, anyway.’
CRISTY: ‘How long will it have to be like this?’
MAEVE: ‘Possibly for the next two years – until her sentence is complete.’
CRISTY: ‘Will you stay here the whole time?’
MAEVE: ‘We’re not sure yet. We just take one day at a time.’
CRISTY: ‘What about Claude Meyer? Will you see him?’
