She caught up with her in the huge, high hall and just blurted it out:
‘Why didn’t you take Nick to live with you?’
For a long moment, Yvonne said nothing, her face blank as she looked at Lulu, almost as if she were looking through her. ‘I don’t do children,’ was all she said, eventually.
Rapid footsteps sounded on the tiles behind her, and Nick said, ‘Lulu! I turned round and you’d gone! Why did you just take off like that?’
He spoke too loudly, his tone harsh, and as she turned to him with a reassuring smile – she was humouring, for now, his need to keep track of her every movement – she was conscious of Yvonne flinching. And she wanted to round on her again, to tell her she’d done this. She’d contributed, at least, to making Nick the way he was, making him panic and talk too loudly and offend her sense of what was reasonable behaviour.
‘Sorry, darling,’ Lulu said softly, taking Nick’s arm.
This is on you, she wanted to yell at the woman with the pursed little mouth in the neat navy trouser suit. You should have taken him in, you should have helped him through it, you should have loved him.
You should, you should, you should.
She really didn’t want to do this.
But she had to, for Nick’s sake. For both their sakes.
They waited until dusk had fallen, to more closely replicate the dark November evening when Nick had returned to Sunnyside with Carol and Andy Jardine. In June in Scotland, Lulu discovered, the days were long, and it was after ten o’clock when she and Nick stepped out of the house and onto the big area of gravel in front of it.
‘Mr Nutter takes a holiday,’ Nick murmured. ‘One of those silent French films. Lots of close-ups of my face girning as ghosts and ghoulies chase me about a haunted house.’
Lulu shivered. ‘Stop it.’ She wasn’t going to let him sabotage this with his usual facetiousness.
‘And poor old Mrs Nutter is wondering what the hell she’s let herself in for. Lots of close-ups of you rolling your eyes.’
Lulu took his hand. ‘I’m going to hold on to your hand the whole time, okay? So you know I’m with you, wherever you might go in your head. You’re with me and you’re safe.’ But there was also, she admitted to herself, a reassurance for Lulu in holding Nick’s hand.
‘Oh God, Lu. I’m not sure about this.’
‘I know. We can stop any time.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘Think of it like being in a waking dream.’ Her specialist subject, she reflected dryly. ‘It’s thought that dreams are a way for the brain to process what’s gone on during the previous day but also sometimes stuff that’s happened in our lives a while ago but still troubles us. Dreams are a way of going back through events to make sense of them and take whatever we need from them, as we consign what we’ve been through to memory.’
‘But how will it help, reliving it all yet again?’ He turned and looked up at the house silhouetted against the evening sky.
‘We’re going to ground you in the present so we can force your brain to process what happened as past events, to integrate your repressed memories into your “normal” memory bank, so you can acknowledge the trauma and move on. We need to really examine each thing you remember. Do you think you can do that?’
A curt nod. ‘Let’s just get it over with.’
They got as far as the hall.
‘Keep breathing in and out and noticing those breaths,’ said Lulu, ‘while you think about what happened.’
He exhaled slowly. ‘The whole house was in darkness. It smelt . . . This sounds weird, but it smelt empty. I switched on the lights . . .’ He moved to the switch, and Lulu went with him, keeping hold of his hand. ‘And I shouted. I shouted for Dad.’
‘Okay. Take a deep breath and let how you were feeling then come back.’
She felt him tense. And suddenly he gripped her hand so tight it hurt.
‘Dad!’ he screamed. ‘Dad!’
‘Okay, Nick, you’re okay.’ She put her arms around him. ‘I’m here! You’re okay! I’m here, I’m here, my darling!’
The house was dark. Lulu knew she had to find the kitchen – it was really, really important she find the kitchen where Mum and Dad and her brothers were – but this wasn’t the old farmhouse at Braemar Station, this was a strange warehouse of a place full of huge antique furniture that loomed over her as she ran from one room to the next, calling their names.
The kitchen.