balls, do we? So it’s not clear-cut. If you make a promise and then realise you shouldn’t have, for either your or the person you made the promise to’s sake, then sometimes you have no choice but to break the promise. And, when it comes to a lie …’ I paused again. She was looking at me so intently, I felt I had to think about every word. ‘Well, we’ve already talked about white lies, haven’t we? Remember? When we were talking about Facebook the other week? Almost all of the time, though, telling the truth is the only right way to proceed, and that’s not just because you should tell the truth, because it’s the right thing to do – it’s almost as important because when we tell a lie it lives on inside us, doesn’t it?’
I touched my chest, remembering that letter I’d binned, and thinking, Ain’t that the truth? But was my doing so about to be vindicated? The fact that she was still here, sitting opposite me, asking me questions of moral philosophy. Would this be happening if she’d been taken from us and was now in another stranger’s home?
Since she was showing no signs of doing anything other than listen, I ploughed on. ‘That’s the thing about lies. They’re a bit like rust on a new car – eventually, just like rust, lies begin to corrode you. Because telling one lie so often means you have to tell more lies. So, on balance, I’d say, with very few exceptions, that it’s always the better choice to tell the truth.’
I sat back a little. Bella did as well. And then spent a few moments seemingly in silent communion with Dobby, the kitchen roll now a small piece of origami in her lap. Then she looked at me again. ‘Yes, but which is worse?’
Ah. A good point, I hadn’t actually answered that one, had I? I leaned forward again. ‘Sweetheart, that’s just so hard for me to say without knowing what the promise was. What the lie was. How big they both were.’
‘Yes, but what if they were both big?’
She clearly needed an answer. And I was clearly expected to provide one. ‘Okay,’ I said, ‘so if you put me on the spot, then I’d say telling a lie is usually worse. If you break a promise for a good reason, the other person will usually understand if you explain to them, because we make promises to people mostly because we want to help them, don’t we? Or to be kind to them. Or to encourage them … that kind of thing. But if we tell a lie, it’s more often because we want to get away with something, to make bad things better for ourselves … Or, if for someone else – if someone asks us to tell a lie for them, we often know it’s because they want us to help them get away with something, don’t we? So …’
She was nodding now, so much so that I was at pains to qualify my reasoning. ‘But that’s not in every case, sweetie. Because every situation is different, isn’t it? So –’
‘It’s okay,’ she said, gathering Dobby up against her chest in a way that made it obvious she was ready to go back to bed. She pushed the chair back. ‘Thank you.’
‘Well, now,’ I said, ‘I’m not sure I’ve been very helpful …’ I stood up too. ‘Anyway, shall I take you back up to bed? Tuck you in?’
Bella shook her head. ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘I’m okay. I can take myself up.’
And on that solemn note, she proffered a cheek so I could kiss her goodnight for a second time, then led the way out of the kitchen and took herself off up the stairs.
I stared after her for some time, wondering quite what had just passed between us. Something important, I decided. We had definitely reached some sort of watershed.
Which was good. Even so, as I returned to Mike and Tyler, I couldn’t help this nagging sense that I’d said the wrong thing.
That I had got it wrong. That I somehow disappointed her.
Bella seemed to retreat after that. No, she hadn’t become withdrawn or uncommunicative or otherwise ‘off’ with us or anything. If anything, she was chirpy; particularly about school, where, hopefully, she’d be off to in a matter of days.
No, it was more that she had seemed to draw a line under the conversation. And all I could do was watch and wait.
The sense that I’d said the wrong things to her that night persisted, even so, and my brain was exhausted with trying to re-run my thinking, wondering how would one of the great philosophers have answered her question. In the end I could only ‘park it’, as Mike had suggested. What would be – where the whole family were concerned – would just be. Enough people were already engaged in the business of deciding what was going to happen, and it was pointless me trying to be one of them. To care and protect, that was my part in the equation. Just that. No sleuthing.
The ELAC tutor, Howard, turned out to be exactly as I’d pictured him. Very posh, very jolly, very bright. Though I didn’t sit in on their session together, I could see when they emerged that they had got along famously. Howard wore a pair of very distinctive spectacles, I noticed. I wondered if he was a Harry Potter fan.
‘Next Monday, then,’ I commented, as Bella and I waved him off. We’ll have to get our skates on with that uniform, then, won’t we? Oh, and I’d better call Katie and rearrange your counselling appointment too. See if she can fit you in after school instead.’ I shut the front door. ‘So. Excited?’
‘I am, actually,’ Bella told me. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing Hannah again. But Casey?’
‘Mmm?’
‘You know, I don’t really think I need to see Katie any more.’
Appearances can be deceptive, however. Just as the swan, which seems to glide over the water so serenely, hides the furious, focused paddling that goes on underneath, so Bella’s self-possession hid a maelstrom inside.
Which we might not have even known about – might not have even surfaced before she left us – had it not been for a trigger from an unexpected source – namely her watching TV with Tyler.
It was the following evening, which was unremarkable, just a regular weekday night. Well, except that, for one night only, Lauren and Kieron were hosting the little ones to give us a break.
And I’d used it well. The uniform had been bought, and Katie’s appointment had been rearranged. (Despite Bella’s assurance that she was no longer in need of counselling, I had decided to overrule her. Counsellors were rare commodities, and I wasn’t about to relinquish this one.)
Mike was out – he’d gone with a mate to a local football league meeting (at the pub, of course) – and while Tyler and Bella sat in front of the telly, one at either end of the sofa, I was doing a bit of light internet shopping.
I was just price-checking a summer dress when a change in the room hit me. They’d been watching an episode of CSI, and up to now they’d been chatting quietly as well.
Tyler did love his crime, and this series particularly, which followed the life and times (and grisly murder investigations) of a group of crime scene investigators in Vegas, so much so that he had Mike record the late-night editions so that he could watch them uninterrupted when there was nothing else on.
But this was their third in a row – I had long since grown restless – and it looked like they might be getting a little too engrossed, and it occurred to me that, since Bella didn’t need any further fuel for nightmares, it should also be their last.
‘That’s it after this one, guys,’ I said, looking across to them. ‘We’ve seen enough of the Vegas team for one night, I think.’
Tyler instinctively put a finger to his lips. I’d obviously spoken across something vital. But then he nodded. He valued his freedoms. ‘There’s only about 15 minutes left of this one, then you can watch what you want, okay?’
‘Very gracious of you, I’m