She fetched a pen from her handbag, creeping like a mouse round the room as she did so, although Andrew’s deep breathing told her there was no need. There was a small stack of writing paper and envelopes piled at the back of the rickety table. Liese sat down and smoothed out the one sheet she would need. The letter did not have to be long – there was no explanation she could offer Andrew that he didn’t already know – but it had to be written. For Karen’s sake. To make things as right as she could
My dear Andrew,
She paused. That was something she had rarely called him, although she knew how much he loved to hear it. That or any other endearment. Another regret to add to the list she hoped this last act would atone for. And the next line, that seemed to come so easily now, was one she wished she could have tried out in person. Was it too much to hope that reading the words would make up for her silence?
You have been a good husband and a kinder one than I deserved. I want you to know that. And I want Karen to know she has always been the best of us – the best of me. I want you to tell her that. Before you give in to the grief I know my leaving will cause you, I want you to tell Karen how much I loved her, that this is none of her doing. That some part of me will always stay with her. Will you do that for me? Will you promise?
I cannot stay any longer. It is as simple as that. And I want to go at my choosing, on a good day when the world is clear and I know what year I am living in; whose voices are real. That feels very much like today. I know you have been waiting for this. I know you have dreaded it. I hope you can understand and forgive me.
Tell Karen about Lottie. That will be hard – you won’t want to do it, but it matters. I can’t give you the words; you must choose them, but you must tell her the truth. That she had a sister who was murdered, that so much went wrong because of that act. If you don’t, she will think me leaving is her fault. I can’t bear that; I can’t throw that shadow over her. Don’t wait, Andrew; don’t think she needs to be older. You have done so much for me already and I have never thanked you for any of it, but please: do this.
You should also know, if you don’t already, that this is no more your fault than Karen’s. And that I have loved you. Try to believe that; try not to keep doubting it. I know it should have been said a long time ago. And believe also that this thing that I am doing is a kindness. A repaying of the debts that weigh on us all.
Liese put the pen down. She was tired. If she carried on with this thinking and writing she would be too tired to do what had to come next.
Hold Karen for me. Tell her that you love her. Tell her that every day.
There was nothing more to be said.
She signed her name quickly and put the letter in an envelope, which she laid on her empty pillow. She stopped, stared down at the face that had been part of her life for so long. Andrew was still snoring; still, on some level, content. Liese reached out to touch his shoulder and stopped. If he woke and saw her standing there, he would guess and he would stop her. There had been too much of that.
The hallway outside their room was deserted, the hotel sleeping and silent.
Liese tugged her cardigan round her, her shoulders suddenly cold. Karen’s door was next to theirs, only a few paces away. Liese hovered, uncertain for the first time since the decision had come to her. Karen was still so young; Andrew was not the most effusive of men. What if this was wrong? What if it caused Karen more harm, not the good she intended? Perhaps if she slipped inside, took a moment to look, to drop a kiss on that beloved face, she would know. The impulse became an ache, propelled her fingers towards the door handle. And then Liese paused.
The slightest sound and she will wake up and the choice will not be mine anymore.
Karen was as light a sleeper as her mother, something Liese had only realised a few months ago when she caught sight of her daughter’s white face pressed against the bannisters long after she should have been asleep. When Liese realised that the child had been watching as Andrew tried to calm the chaos of another nightmare-driven night, a night when she had gone hunting for Lottie and then thought she was the one being hunted. Liese had no idea how many other episodes Karen had witnessed. From the frozen way the child sat, rather than rushing down the stairs demanding to know what was wrong, she guessed this one was a long way past the first. Liese had wanted to warn Andrew that Karen had been there. She had wanted to talk to Karen, to offer some explanation that would soothe the wide eyes that followed her all the next morning. She hadn’t done either. She had retreated back into the safety of silence and not looked up when other nights spooled out as messy.
And now she is as attuned to my moods as Lottie once was.
She took a step away.
This is your last chance; don’t be a coward.
Liese eased the door open. Karen was sleeping on her back, her arms flung out. A memory flew back of Lottie spread out like a starfish, and she had to cram her fist into her mouth.
A few paces there, a few paces back. You can do it.
She crossed the floor as quick as she could, before her knees or her tears betrayed her. Karen stirred slightly, smiled at something in her dreams. Liese leaned forward, brushed her lips across Karen’s soft hair and then she fled from the room before the urge to scoop her daughter up became stronger than the urge to protect her.
I am no good to her. I hold her back; I keep the world too far from her.
She crept down the stairs, refusing to allow herself to turn round.
Twins – two girls. She reached the ground floor, her mind stuck on two children who would never remember their mother. On the memory of Paul and Margarethe walking away, swept up to an unimaginable death from the jobs that she had forced them out into. Stuck on the women whose numbers she had stapled to lists and sent to the same fate. On a guard who was an animal but whose children were innocent. The balance sheet wasn’t done with her yet. The price paid this time for her carelessness could not be Karen.
I have to trust to Andrew now.
She had to believe Andrew would protect his daughter with the same fierce strength he had always shown for her. She had to believe Karen would one day understand that she would live a happier life without a mother too scared to let her embrace it. Without a mother whose sins spread out like a stain and ruined the lives of those she was meant to protect. Liese loved Karen; she loved her as much as she had ever loved Lottie. Liese had been terrified all the way through her pregnancy that she wouldn’t have any love to give, that she would look at her baby and see only shadows. And then she had held Karen and felt such a deep connection, she had been astonished at the purity and newness of it. She hated that pain was coming for her daughter. That was terrible, but Karen was young and Liese had to believe that her pain would pass.
I can’t turn back. I can’t tear up the letter and pretend I can stay and things will be better.
Only a truly heartless mother would do that.
The bolt on the front door was heavy but easier to open than others she had fought. Liese stepped out into the fresh green embrace of a slowly waking day. The sky’s dark was diluting, black swapped out for a deep blue that was already spotting with pink. The trees in the gardens that ran between the wedding-cake houses were softening, losing their night-time jagged edges. There was no one around. It was too early for anything but birdsong.