'What?' said Kerry wildly. 'What rope?'
'Jesus Christ,' said Brendan. 'Look at you!'
'What rope?' repeated Kerry.
She took a step forward so that she was glaring down at me. She had her hands on her hips and her face was scarlet. It was as if all her natural reserve, her anxiety and timidity, had been burned away by grief and rage. I could almost feel the emotion steaming off her. I got up from the floor and stood there, surrounded by Brendan's clothes.
'I don't know,' I said. 'I just thought…' I trailed off.
'You were going through Brendan's stuff, for God's sake. What did you think?'
'I was sorting out my flat,' I said.
'And? And?'
'Let me get this straight,' said Brendan. 'You're going through my things' – here he kicked at his clothes with a foot, so they spread out across the floor – 'to find some rope. Yes?'
'I was just confused,' I said in a mumble.
'Confused?' said Kerry. 'Do you realize that our little brother was buried yesterday? And now you come over here, you make a special journey, to poke around in Brendan's case…'
'It'd be better if I went now,' I said.
Brendan took a step forward so that he was barring my way.
'I don't think so, Mirrie.'
'Let me through.'
'You're not going anywhere until we've got to the bottom of this.'
'We're all overwrought.'
'Overwrought?' yelled Kerry. For such a slight person she can make a very loud noise. 'Over-fucking-wrought?!'
'What's going on?'
My father had appeared in the doorway.
'Nothing,' I said, hopelessly.
'I'll tell you what's going on,' said Kerry. 'She,' and she pointed a finger at me, 'she was going through Brendan's case.'
'Miranda?' said my father.
'Looking for rope,' added Brendan.
'Rope?'
'That's what she said.'
Brendan squatted down and started folding up his scattered clothes and putting them neatly back in the case.
'I think I should go,' I said.
'I think you should explain yourself said my father in a voice tinged with disgust. He rubbed his face with his hand and looked around for somewhere to sit down.
'I was simply trying to get things in order,' I began, then stopped.
'The rope,' prompted Brendan. 'Mmm? Secretly going through my belongings looking for some rope?'
I didn't have anything to say.
What rope?' asked my mother, entering the room.
I sat down on the unmade bed and put my face in my hands, like a small child trying to keep the world out of my head. Kerry started telling my mother what she'd found me doing, stoking up her outrage all over again, and I stared through the crack in my fingers at a patch of carpet and the legs of the chest of drawers, trying to block out the words.
'I don't know you any more,' my mother said in a flat voice once Kerry was done.
'Please,' I said. 'I'm upset. We're all upset.'
'What I want to know,' said Brendan, 'is what rope it was. I mean – when you say "rope", well, the word only means one thing to all of us now. Mmm? Only one thing/
There was a horrible silence in the room, then he went on: 'Is that what you mean by the rope – you mean, the rest of the rope? Mmm?'
'I don't mean anything.'
'And yet you went to the trouble of coming over here to look for it.'
'Shut up,' I said, lifting my head from my hands. 'Shut up, shut up, shut up. I feel as if I'm in court or something, and everything I say's being turned against me. Don't all look at me like that!'
'Why did you think it would be here? Mmm? Among my things? Is there something you want to tell us?'
'No,' I said in a whisper.
'It's obvious,' said Kerry sharply. 'She's obsessed with Brendan. She's always been obsessed with him. I tried not to see it. I tried telling myself it didn't matter. I was generous about it, wasn't I? I thought she'd get over it. Even when she went on and on about their relationship and wouldn't let go of it. When she wouldn't behave in an ordinary friendly way in front of him, but had to be all angry and bitter, or else too friendly. Even when she took her clothes off in the bathroom when he was in there, for God's sake, and I was in the bloody room next door trying to behave nicely to her.'
'Say "you",' I said, hysteria rising up in me. 'Don't say "she" when I'm right in front of you.'
Kerry talked over me. Everything she'd stored up was cascading out now. Her voice was high and hoarse.
'Even when she started going all peculiar and flooding the bathroom and then accusing Brendan of doing it. Or tracking down old friends, like a spy, a bloody spy. I still thought it would be all right. Stupid of me, I see that now. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And don't think we don't all understand what it's about. It's not just about Brendan, it's about me. Her elder sister. She's always been jealous of me. She always wanted to destroy everything. Like she did with Mike. And now look at her. Look!' She pointed again. ' Troy died. He killed himself. Our darling brother killed himself in her flat. Yesterday was his funeral. Does it stop her? No. No, it bloody does not. Because the morning after, the very next morning, she comes over here and starts snooping around. Even Troy dying doesn't stop her.'
She started sobbing till her thin shoulders shook. Brendan went across to her and wrapped his arm around her waist.
'It's not about you, Kerry,' he said softly. 'Don't you see? When you say she's obsessed, that's probably exactly the right word. I've thought this for some time now. I blame myself for not doing anything about it. She's like a stalker. If she weren't family, I'd be calling the police by now, asking for protection. I've read about things like this; I think there's even a name for it, though I can't remember what. She probably can't even help herself.'
'No,' I said. 'Don't say things like that.'
'Miranda,' said my mother in her new, dull voice. 'There are things that have to be said now. Things we've all been avoiding. I don't think I've even said them to myself, but now that Troy 's dead, I can say anything. Perhaps you need professional help.'
'You don't understand,' I said. 'No one understands.' I turned to my father. 'You don't think I'm obsessed, do you?'
'I don't know what I think any more,' he said. 'But I know one thing.'
'What?'
'You'll start off by apologizing to Brendan for the way you've behaved. Just because there's been a tragedy in this family doesn't mean that we're going to stop behaving like decent human beings.'
'But I…'
'Whatever it is you're about to say, I don't want to hear,' he said. 'You apologize to Brendan. Do you hear me? That's the least we expect.'
I looked at his caved-in face. I looked at my mother's empty eyes. Then I stood up and faced Brendan. He stared at me, waiting. I clenched my fists together and dug my nails into my palms.
'I'm sorry,' I said.
He bowed his head slightly, in recognition. 'Mirrie, I'm sorry too. I'm sorry for you. I pity you.'
I turned away.
'Can I go now?' I asked.
We all trooped downstairs together in silence. Kerry was still half-sobbing. At the front door, I stopped.
'I left my bag upstairs,' I said. 'I'll get it and then I'll be out of your way.'
I took the stairs two at a time, in spite of the pain banging round inside my skull, and pushed open the door to Brendan and Kerry's room. I knelt down in front of the chest of drawers and pushed my hand under it, into the narrow space I'd been staring at from my position on the bed. And I pulled out the coil of green rope.