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more imperfect than any version of them that I’d ever imagined.
Clemo spoke to Nicky: ‘John Finch told us that when Ben was born, he was concerned that you
might have what could be described as an unhealthy interest in Ben. Would you like to comment on
that?’
‘You revolting man,’ said my sister. ‘You haven’t got a clue who’s got Ben so you’ve decided to
pick on me. Easier to get to someone close to home, is it? Stops you having to do so much work?’
Clemo’s gaze never left her face. ‘Would you care to comment?’ he asked her. ‘I’d be very
interested to hear what your response might be.’
‘I’m sure you would,’ she replied.
‘I expect your sister would as well,’ he said.
Nicky looked at me. ‘I’ve tried so hard, and for so long, to protect you. I just wanted you to have a
life where you didn’t feel rejected. I wanted it to be straightforward for you. But you were so…⁠’ She
searched for a word, frustrated.
‘What?’
‘Difficult, and ungrateful.’
‘For what? Ungrateful for what?’
‘And irresponsible! You never understood anything. You just took it all for granted. You did what
you wanted to do, when you wanted to do it. You had no burden. You had no loss to bear.’
‘I had the loss of my parents to bear.’ I said this quietly, because I understood that she’d had more
to cope with, but she was angry now, and so was I.
‘You were clueless! Totally clueless!’
‘How could I have been any other way, if you didn’t tell me anything? That’s not my fault.’
She didn’t respond to that, she had more to get off her chest. ‘You never thanked me.’
‘For what?’
‘For protecting you.’
‘How could I have known?’
‘They never thanked me either.’
Suddenly she lost her momentum, as if that statement summed up the hopelessness of it all.
Clemo leaned in towards her. ‘Who never thanked you?’
‘Mum and Dad.’
‘What did they never thank you for?’ he asked.
‘For loving Charlie, for watching him when they’d had enough, for making him smile when they
were too tired, when they couldn’t cope any longer.’
Her eyes were glassy with loss. His were intent.
‘Nicky. Were you jealous when Rachel had Ben?’
She snapped an answer at him as if he were running through a questionnaire.
‘Yes, I was jealous, yes.’
‘But you had the girls,’ I said.
‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand,’ she said.
‘Why were you jealous?’ said Clemo.
‘Because he looked like Charlie, right from the start. All I could see when I looked at him was
Charlie.’
‘Did you feel that Rachel might not be able to care for Ben properly?’ said Clemo.
‘I was worried,’ she said simply, and she turned to face me. ‘You were so feckless, you know, so
young?’