Cut to the Bone by Alex Caan Page B

have been after she was admitted to the funny farm.’
    ‘Don’t, Ryan; don’t even joke about it. It’s too much today. I’ll sort it, I promise.’
    ‘OK. But if she damages my pretty face, you’re paying for the cosmetic surgeon.’
    He kissed Kate on the top of her head and went back to his baking.
    He was right. Kate needed to face up to some truths.
    Kate walked slowly back upstairs to the second bedroom, and knocked on the door again.
    Too late, Kate realised she wasn’t wearing her blond wig.
    Kate felt part of her curl up in despair at the look of vulnerability, panic, fear she saw.
    ‘I’m sorry, Mother,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to frighten you.’
    ‘Oh, sweetheart, you could never do that. This is all me, I know that. It will take a while for your new hair colour to register, that’s all.’
    Jane sat up in bed, patted the space next to her. She seemed so in control sometimes.
    ‘I was very bad today,’ she said.
    ‘Yes. Poor Ryan.’
    They both giggled, like children in on a practical joke.
    ‘Do you remember what happened?’ Kate asked.
    ‘I’m not crazy, and I’m not losing my mind. Or my memory. God knows, I’ve lost enough of my brain.’
    ‘Mom, you threw a lamp at him . . .’
    ‘It wasn’t . . . I wasn’t . . . has he gone? Has he run fleeing from the Norma Desmond upstairs?’
    ‘Mother, don’t be cruel. He cares, he’s just worried. So am I.’
    ‘It kills me when you say such things,’ said Jane. ‘I feel like such a burden. Look at what I’ve done to you. Sometimes, I just feel like . . . like making it all over with.’
    Kate looked up at the woman with grey hair, whose eyes were still as blue as her own. ‘Don’t you dare,’ she said.
    ‘It would make things easier for everyone,’ said Jane.
    She slumped where she was, running her hands over her face. Desperate for the tears not to fall. But they did anyway, and she silently shook. Kate reached out, laid her hand palm up on her mother’s stomach. Jane clasped it, and they held hands for a while.
    ‘If you go, I’ll be left alone,’ whispered Kate.
    ‘You’re so vital, so alive. You should be with a husband, with a family of your own.’
    ‘Why did you get angry? With Ryan?’ Kate said, changing the subject.
    ‘You’ll think I’m being silly. I was remembering something. A vacation we took. Remember Branson? The cabin?’
    Kate laughed. It was for an anniversary. Twenty-five years of marriage for her parents. A rental cabin in the Ozark Mountain range in Missouri.
    ‘Yes, I remember,’ she said. ‘What about it?’
    ‘I just . . . it just came to me. I was looking out back, at the colours on the trees. And it just came back, all of it. I remembered it so clearly. I remembered you all so clearly . . . and I wanted to stay there, in that moment . . . and Ryan, he just pulled me away from it. And it made me angry. And then there was the lamp, broken.’
    ‘It’s OK, Mom, we’ll get Dr Lyons to have a look.’
    ‘Yes. That would be nice.’
    ‘I have to get back. Are you going to be all right?’
    ‘Yes, of course. I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have come home. I’m a nuisance, I know.’
    ‘No, you’re not. And if you ever talk about ending things again . . .’
    ‘We have to talk about it sometime,’ said Jane.
    ‘Not today,’ said Kate.
    Kate knew her mother was right. Truths had to be faced. It was not confronting them in the first place that had led them all to where they were.

Chapter Thirty-two
    The air was fresh when he stepped outside. An old lady with a terrier and a shopping trolley walked by. Zain patted the dog, scratched its ears. The dog barked, but seemed harmless enough.
    ‘Don’t touch the bugger, he’ll bite you,’ said the woman.
    Zain laughed. ‘I’m a detective, don’t worry, I’ve been bitten by worse than him. You need help?’
    ‘No.’ A terse response. ‘Thank you.’ More mellow.
    He’d also be suspicious if he were