Fifty-First State by Hilary Bailey

about the disturbing news from Thwaite. Dad had heard about it in the village but he obviously wasn’t going to tell Mum – but the doctor, stupidly, did. And she seemed to hear, even in the state she was in, and she began to cry and wail – they had trouble calming her down enough to deliver the injection—’ Lucy looked at William and what she saw made her break off. ‘Anyway, she’s very depressed now.’
    â€˜Coming to London,’ William said. ‘If anything happens, it happens here. Where’s the sense in that?’
    â€˜She thinks we all ought to die together,’ Lucy said flatly.
    â€˜Sounds a lot easier than living together,’ William couldn’t help saying. He picked up the bottle from the table and poured himself more wine. Lucy hadn’t touched hers. They were in dangerous territory now, moving into Sutcliffe-land, where common sense did not prevail. He asked hopefully, as if the question might have some meaning, ‘Did your dad give you any idea how long they planned to stay in London?’
    â€˜It’s not the sort of thing you plan,’ Lucy replied. ‘I know you don’t want them here.’
    â€˜Nor do you,’ William said. He changed tack. ‘Look, Lucy, this is hopeless. They can’t come here. This dying together stuff is rubbish. You’re a nurse. You know perfectly well your mother shouldn’t come here. She needs expert help.’
    â€˜And you know she won’t accept it. The only way to do it would be tohave her sectioned. I’m not even sure a doctor would agree to it – and you’ve never been inside a mental hospital. I have. I wouldn’t put my worst enemy in one.’
    â€˜Joe could pay privately,’ William said. ‘They can well afford it.’
    They had had this discussion many times. They were drifting away from the point and William sensed Lucy was making this happen.
    â€˜Think how often we’ve stayed with them,’ Lucy appealed. William might have pointed out that this was not their decision. He could have added that as far as he was concerned each visit to the Sutcliffes had been a waste of free time which would have been more enjoyably spent elsewhere. But Lucy knew quite well what he thought.
    William told her this, adding, ‘I wouldn’t mind so much if I knew how long they were staying.’
    â€˜Yes, you would,’ Lucy declared.
    â€˜Not as much,’ said William, drinking. He knew that after one more glass of wine he would start a row. He didn’t care.
    â€˜There it is!’ cried Lucy. The suicide bombing at Thwaite was old news now but on the TV there was a picture of a wide gate being rebuilt, armed guards and fluttering police tapes. A medalled RAF officer and a man in a suit stood in the wind, discussing the event. Worldwide terror, constant vigilance and full alert were mentioned. The terrorist, blown to fragments, had not been identified. The van had been stolen in Swansea.
    William said, ‘This business at Thwaite is just an isolated incident. Anyway, they live ten miles away. London’s one security alert after another. How’s your mother going to feel getting patted down going into the Tube? Oh, I forgot, she won’t be going into the Tube.’
    â€˜I don’t suppose she’ll be going anywhere,’ Lucy admitted.
    â€˜No – we’re just going to sit here waiting to die together.’
    â€˜Mum’s just terribly afraid of being left alone, without Dad,’ Lucy said defensively. A thought struck her. ‘You won’t walk out on me, William, if they come?’
    â€˜Don’t talk rubbish,’ he said. ‘If I walk out, it’ll be with you. Maybe we should go and stay at the B and B.’
    Lucy surprised him when she said, ‘I thought about that, but it’d put a dent in our savings.’
    â€˜Let’s go out to the Venezia tonight to celebrate our last