The arrangement in the bedroom was obviously temporary. They had barely unpacked. Kerry's dressing gown and nightie were tossed over the bed. A suitcase was half open, leaning against the wall, her clothes neatly folded. On the corner table there were a number of bottles, shampoo, conditioner, creams, scent, all of it Kerry's. I looked around. That was a funny thing. Kerry could have been staying here alone. I couldn't see a single object or item of clothing that belonged to Brendan. Next to the bed was another, closed, suitcase. I laid it flat on the floor, flicked the catches and opened it, revealing Brendan's clothes. It wouldn't take a minute. One by one I lifted shirts, trousers, underpants and turned them over so that I could replace them in the right order. The case was almost empty when I felt as much as heard steps running up the stairs. I didn't even have time to move from my knees when the door opened and Brendan appeared. For about a tenth of a second I had thought, well, what does it matter? But by the look on his face, I thought, Oh fuck. At first he just looked surprised, and no wonder, with me rooting around in his case, his clothes arranged around me.
'Miranda?' he said. 'What the…?'
I tried to think of something, but my brain had turned to thick soup.
'I'd forgotten something,' I said randomly. 'I mean I thought you'd taken something by mistake.'
Now his face turned angry.
'What the fuck?!'
And then Kerry appeared behind him.
'Brendan?' she said. 'What…?' And then she too caught sight of me.
'The rope,' I said. 'I thought you'd taken my rope by mistake.'
CHAPTER 24
'What?' said Kerry wildly. 'What rope?'
'Jesus Christ,' said Brendan. 'Look at you!'
'What rope?' repeated Kerry.
She took a step forward so that she was glaring down at me. She had her hands on her hips and her face was scarlet. It was as if all her natural reserve, her anxiety and timidity, had been burned away by grief and rage. I could almost feel the emotion steaming off her. I got up from the floor and stood there, surrounded by Brendan's clothes.
'I don't know,' I said. 'I just thought…' I trailed off.
'You were going through Brendan's stuff, for God's sake. What did you think?'
'I was sorting out my flat,' I said.
'And? And?'
'Let me get this straight,' said Brendan. 'You're going through my things' – here he kicked at his clothes with a foot, so they spread out across the floor – 'to find some rope. Yes?'
'I was just confused,' I said in a mumble.
'Confused?' said Kerry. 'Do you realize that our little brother was buried yesterday? And now you come over here, you make a special journey, to poke around in Brendan's case…'
'It'd be better if I went now,' I said.
Brendan took a step forward so that he was barring my way.
'I don't think so, Mirrie.'
'Let me through.'
'You're not going anywhere until we've got to the bottom of this.'
'We're all overwrought.'
'Overwrought?' yelled Kerry. For such a slight person she can make a very loud noise. 'Over-fucking-wrought?!'
'What's going on?'
My father had appeared in the doorway.
'Nothing,' I said, hopelessly.
'I'll tell you what's going on,' said Kerry. 'She,' and she pointed a finger at me, 'she was going through Brendan's case.'
'Miranda?' said my father.
'Looking for rope,' added Brendan.
'Rope?'
'That's what she said.'
Brendan squatted down and started folding up his scattered clothes and putting them neatly back in the case.
'I think I should go,' I said.
'I think you should explain yourself said my father in a voice tinged with disgust. He rubbed his face with his hand and looked around for somewhere to sit down.
'I was simply trying to get things in order,' I began, then stopped.
'The rope,' prompted Brendan. 'Mmm? Secretly going through my belongings looking for some rope?'
I didn't have anything to say.
What rope?' asked my mother, entering the room.
I sat down on the unmade bed and put my face in my hands, like a small child trying to keep the world out of my head. Kerry started telling my mother what she'd found me doing, stoking up her outrage all over again, and I stared through the crack in my fingers at a patch of carpet and the legs of the chest of drawers, trying to block out the words.
'I don't know you any more,' my mother said in a flat voice once Kerry was done.
'Please,' I said. 'I'm upset. We're all upset.'
'What I want to know,' said Brendan, 'is what rope it was. I mean – when you say "rope", well, the word only means one thing to all of us now. Mmm? Only one thing/
There was a horrible silence in the room, then he went on: 'Is that what you mean by the rope – you mean, the rest of the rope? Mmm?'
'I don't mean anything.'
'And yet you went to the trouble of coming over here to look for it.'
'Shut up,' I said, lifting my head from my hands. 'Shut up, shut up, shut up. I feel as if I'm in court or something, and everything I say's being turned against me. Don't all look at me like that!'
'Why did you think it would be here? Mmm? Among my things? Is there something you want to tell us?'
'No,' I said in a whisper.
'It's obvious,' said Kerry sharply. 'She's obsessed with Brendan. She's always been obsessed with him. I tried not to see it. I tried telling myself it didn't matter. I was generous about it, wasn't I? I thought she'd get over it. Even when she went on and on about their relationship and wouldn't let go of it. When she wouldn't behave in an ordinary friendly way in front of him, but had to be all angry and bitter, or else too friendly. Even when she took her clothes off in the bathroom when he was in there, for God's sake, and I was in the bloody room next door trying to behave nicely to her.'
'Say "you",' I said, hysteria rising up in me. 'Don't say "she" when I'm right in front of you.'
Kerry talked over me. Everything she'd stored up was cascading out now. Her voice was high and hoarse.
'Even when she started going all peculiar and flooding the bathroom and then accusing Brendan of doing it. Or tracking down old friends, like a spy, a bloody spy. I still thought it would be all right. Stupid of me, I see that now. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And don't think we don't all understand what it's about. It's not just about Brendan, it's about me. Her elder sister. She's always been jealous of me. She always wanted to destroy everything. Like she did with Mike. And now look at her. Look!' She pointed again. ' Troy died. He killed himself. Our darling brother killed himself in her flat. Yesterday was his funeral. Does it stop her? No. No, it bloody does not. Because the morning after, the very next morning, she comes over here and starts snooping around. Even Troy dying doesn't stop her.'
She started sobbing till her thin shoulders shook. Brendan went across to her and wrapped his arm around her waist.
'It's not about you, Kerry,' he said softly. 'Don't you see? When you say she's obsessed, that's probably exactly the right word. I've thought this for some time now. I blame myself for not doing anything about it. She's like a stalker. If she weren't family, I'd be calling the police by now, asking for protection. I've read about things like this; I think there's even a name for it, though I can't remember what. She probably can't even help herself.'
'No,' I said. 'Don't say things like that.'
'Miranda,' said my mother in her new, dull voice. 'There are things that have to be said now. Things we've all been avoiding. I don't think I've even said them to myself, but now that Troy 's dead, I can say anything. Perhaps you need professional help.'
'You don't understand,' I said. 'No one understands.' I turned to my father. 'You don't think I'm obsessed, do you?'