Lullaby by Bernard Beckett Page A

all so very sorry.’
    I flinched at the name.
    Emily remained sitting, her face wet and puffy. She gave me the sort of watery smile
she would have given her lover’s brother in a time like this, trying to offer your
grief is greater than mine , but unable to believe it. My heart turned small and frightened.
    ‘Mr Watts, this is Maggie. She’s a psychologist. She’s been helping me.’
    He shook her hand. His face couldn’t settle on an expression.
    ‘Mr Watts, pleased to meet you. We need to speak to Emily for a moment please, if
we could have the room?’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘There’s coffee, down the—’
    ‘Yes, I know. Thank you.’
    And then it was the three of us, sitting like cardboard cut outs in a room made of
other people’s grief and donated furniture. On the far wall hung a painting of an
icy landscape, beneath it old children’s toys spilled from a cardboard box. A one-eyed
rabbit smiled goofily at me, as if anticipating the show ahead. The only window
looked back onto the corridor. The couch, which Emily had been lying on, was upholstered
in a gaudy floral fabric. The chairs were tidy, but unmatched. The overall effect
was of a room thrown together, an afterthought. We’re busy saving lives, it said.
You can help us by sitting here quietly and not getting in the way.
    Emily was bent forward, as if her stomach was cramping. Maggie and I sat opposite
her. She looked through us, through the wall, into the past.
    ‘Emily, this is Maggie.’
    ‘I heard.’
    She wasn’t trying to be cold, or selfish. She was trying to survive.
    ‘Sorry if I smell,’ I said. ‘I threw up.’
    ‘Me too.’ Her expression dissolved like a cheap digital effect.
    She leapt at me, and buried her wet face into the base of my neck. Her fingers dug
into my back. Her torso convulsed. She must have wondered how it was I remained so
calm. Or maybe that was exactly what she expected, from Theo. I thought of Maggie,
sitting beside me, aware of the clock sweeping time. I waited for Emily’s sobbing
to subside. Eventually she straightened and wiped her eyes. She even managed half
a smile.
    ‘I don’t how I’ve still got tears in me. Surely you run out of water eventually.’
    I raised an eyebrow in agreement. I thought, there are words that can get this started.
There must be words. But I couldn’t think of a single one of them.
    ‘Have they told you, how it happened?’ she asked.
    ‘Not really, I mean, probably. I haven’t taken everything in.’
    I would have been more careful, earlier, not to admit that in front of Maggie. But
just then what Maggie thought no longer mattered. There was another thing, a more
difficult thing, to get through. Emily could talk, I would sit and listen. That would
do. Eventually we’d get there.
    ‘We went to the gardens. Did he tell you? It was our anniversary. Well, six-month
anniversary, what do you call that?’
    I saw the way she’d dressed for me, that morning. She knew I loved her in those shorts.
    ‘We were having a picnic, and then later, we were going to…’
    Her lip began to tremble. I reached out without thinking and brushed a tear from
her cheek.
    ‘We were watching a little boy flying a kite. He was with his father.’ Emily’s face
screwed up, as if she’d just remembered something she didn’t understand. ‘It got
caught. The kite, it got tangled, up in a tree, and Rene went over to help get it
down. The father just stood there, like he didn’t know what to do. I remember thinking,
maybe it would be better to leave them. Maybe if you climb up there, the father will
feel bad that he didn’t. Maybe it will affect their relationship. But you know Rene,
he has to help.’
    She couldn’t look at me. All I wanted was to hold her.
    ‘I didn’t think, what are those wires? Watch out for those wires.’
    She was crying again, bent over, her hair falling wet and tangled over her face.
    ‘Emily, I have to tell you something.’
    She looked up at me. There was no hope in