Part 33 (1/2)

'Challenging, was the word he used.'

'Okay, okay, challenging. Along with every other five-year-old in the universe. It doesn't mean anyone would want to kill him.' And Mr Grant is a two-faced beardie freak, I add silently.

Kura stops walking. 'Then there's your husband, who seems to be avoiding contact with you, Finn or us.'

'Kit's overseas, for G.o.d's sake!'

'Martha.' She fixes me with a look of tragic disapproval. 'I don't think you've been straight with me. We've done some checks. A Christopher McNamara flew into Auckland from London late yesterday afternoon.'

The corridor turns into a swing boat. I find a low windowsill and sit down, breathing hard. Kura watches me.

'All right,' I say faintly. 'He drove home last night. He arrived at about ten, but we had a stupid row and he stormed off again. He was gone by half past.'

The social worker waits for a long time. When she speaks, her voice is too soft. 'What did you argue about?'

'That's absolutely none of your business.'

'Do you often have arguments?'

'No comment.'

She sighs.

'Just a minute.' She's only doing her job, and doing it well. I know this, but fear makes me belligerent. 'Excuse me, Kura. I have described exactly how Finn toppled off the balcony while he was sleepwalking. Are you calling me a liar?'

'No, Martha. I'm saying some of the indicators are there. So there are issues around child protection-'

'So you are calling me a liar.'

'-and we feel there should be a more detailed risk a.s.sessment.'

'I can't believe you people. Talk about shutting the stable door. Finn's life hangs in the balance, and you're doing risk a.s.sessments?'

'You have other children. Charlie and Sacha. Are they at risk? I've still got this feeling there are things you'd like to talk about.'

I think about Charlie and Sacha, left at Patupaiarehe, at risk. Kura is right: a part of me longs to tell her everything and beg for help. But I can't.

'Leave me alone.' I'm shouting now. People in the corridor look around. 'Leave my family alone!'

Kura is unmoved. 'I'm sorry. I can't do that.'

I get to my feet, giddy with terror. They'll take them all away, not only Finn. I'll lose my children. I turn my back and stagger away from her, faster and faster up the corridor.

'My door's open,' she calls after me. 'When you're ready.'

Back at Finn's side, I take out my phone. The battery's getting low. Soon it will be dead.

I call Kit's number. There's no answer, and a part of me is relieved. I've no idea what to say to him. I cannot envisage a future for us.

Thirty-one.

Expectations change; goalposts lower. I dream of my daughter becoming a concert flautist, a brilliant surgeon, a mother herself. I dream of my daughter conquering addiction. I dream of her living a normal life.

Sacha didn't even raise her head from the pillow when I looked in the next morning, though I chirruped like a fantail about what a lovely day it was. 'Beautiful,' I declared, drawing the curtains. 'Clear and blue from one horizon to the other. I'm just off to work.'

She lay without blinking. I sat down on the bed.

'How're you feeling?'

'Can't see the point.'

'Point of what?'

Long silence. 'Didn't my real father want me?'

For a wild moment, I thought about telling her who she was. Maybe she'd be healed and made whole by the knowledge; or maybe she'd be destroyed.

'He would be very proud of you, Sacha.'

'I think . . . maybe that's why you won't let me contact him. Did he want to get rid of me? Did he want me aborted?'

'No!' I was appalled. 'Truly, that isn't right at all.' I patted her knee where it stuck out from beneath the covers. 'Look, doll. The sky's blue. The gra.s.s is green. You're young and pretty and talented. You're going to have a wonderful life and bring happiness to lots of people.'

'I don't bring happiness.'

'Bianka phoned just now, worrying about you.'

This seemed to make matters even worse. A tear snaked down the side of Sacha's lifeless face and into lank hair. 'I don't deserve her.'

'C'mon, give yourself a shake. You've got so much; you're so lucky.'

'I know. I'm ungrateful.'

'There will be rules, of course, but we'll talk about those tonight. So- let's all move on! Shall we go away for a weekend? I thought we might drive up to Auckland to see the Russian Ice Dancers? We could even fly . . . I've got all those air points.'

Another tear roamed across her cheek.

'Jump up,' I said, giving her knee a final pat. 'Have some breakfast. Kit's in the studio.'

She shut her eyes, and I left her lying alone with the sky ablaze at her window.

She didn't get up. She fell into a bottomless well. For the next three days she slept like the dead. We had to force her to wash, to eat, to take care of herself at all. I began to fear she might try to take her own life, and had Kit checking her every hour. I used the fast internet at work to scroll through hundreds of websites, falling on any crumb of advice, learning about this venomous enemy.

There was a telephone helpline. I wrote the number down, but I never rang it. Sounds easy, doesn't it, just to dial a number? But believe me, it isn't easy. I seized up at the thought of discussing my Sacha with a stranger. I had this overwhelming terror that they would trace my number and turn up with flas.h.i.+ng lights and handcuffs. For the same reasons, Kit and I decided not to seek professional help. Secret keeping becomes a habit.