One More Secret by JMR Thompson

Author:JMR Thompson [Thompson, JMR]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JMR Thompson
Published: 2022-08-31T16:00:00+00:00

32

BONNIE

(Now)

My sister is dead. The image of her dead body is still there in my mind. It is horrible. I feel like some invisible hand has pushed into my chest and is squeezing at my heart. I can barely breathe.

The tears have to stop. There are no more tears for me. I climb sluggishly out of my cocoon of pillows and blankets and walk to Mum’s closed bedroom door. I press my ear to it and I can hear her great sobs. I do not knock or speak. I don’t know what to say.

I tiptoe away and leave her to cry. The digital clock reads eleven in the morning when I enter the kitchen. I take a glass and fill it with water. I sit at the dinner table and sip at the water. It’s cold and stings my throat. I sit and drink, my mind on nothing, me doing nothing, thinking nothing.

What else am I supposed to do?

My sister is dead.

There is a knock at the front door. I stand and go to it, opening it without a thought.

“Oh my dear Bonnie, I hope you are okay,” says Mrs Cattery from next door. She pulls me into an embrace. “I’ve been so worried. I’ve heard what happened. I’ve got some soup for you and your Mother. How is she?” Mrs Cattery pushes past me and enters. I close the door behind her and follow her. She is in the kitchen, placing the bowl of soup into the fridge.

“Is your Mother not down yet?” she asks, as she swirls round to me. She walks to me. “How are you doing, pet? Any news yet? I heard what happened on the news. Then Phillis told me that her grandchild was at the party. They told me what happened. I just can’t believe it.” She pulls me to the table and sits us down next to each other. “What has the police said? I am sure your Mother is heartbroken. Have you called your Father yet?”

“Mum is fine,” I say. “Thank you for the soup Mrs Cattery but you really didn’t have to.”

“Nonsense,” she says.

I grimace. “If you don’t mind, there are things that need to be done, so,” I say.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” she asks. “I can heat some soup. Perhaps speak to your Mother,” she stands up.

“No,” I say, standing and stopping her from moving. “Everything is okay. I think we just need to be alone for now.”

She nods her head. “Yes, of course, I’ll leave. I’ll pop on over again later to check on you.” She leaves.

She is not the only visitor that comes knocking at the door, as more people arrive bringing food. I do not answer. I refuse to accept their food.

“Hello,” cries a voice at the door later that day. “It’s me, Claire.”

I stand from the lounge that I’ve been in for most of the day.

“Hey,” I say, opening the door to her. She pulls me tightly to her arms. “I want to ask how you are, but I know that question is just stupid.

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