Simon Lelic - A Thousand Cuts

Do you believe in God, Inspector? Don’t answer that, I’m sorry. I only ask because I haven’t decided myself. I’m forty-seven and I haven’t decided. We had to choose, you see. For the service. I wasn’t ready for that. My daughter has just been taken from me. She was eleven years old and now she’s gone. And I’m trying to arrange things for her funeral and the chap, the funeral director chap, he was a very pleasant chap, I mean it’s not his fault at all but he asks me, he has to: are there any cultural or religious requirements of which we should be aware? Which is like asking me whether I believe in God. Your daughter’s just been murdered; do you believe in God? Or maybe it isn’t but that’s how it struck me. I couldn’t answer right away. I’m agnostic – is that the word? I always say one of them when I mean the other. Susan was brought up Catholic. We didn’t go to church with Sarah because Susan wanted Sarah to be able to choose. So I couldn’t answer. I told him I had to talk it over with my wife.

We’re not having a religious theme. That’s what we decided. There will be no mention of God.

The music. I’m still not sure about the music. Sarah loved the Beatles. She just adored them. There’s a CD she had, a greatest hits it must have been. Maybe there were two CDs. One had a blue cover, I think. One was red. And they were all you would ever hear from her bedroom. The door would be shut but you would hear it through the walls, through the floor. And everyone knows all the songs, don’t they, so it didn’t matter that you couldn’t hear the words. You’d hear the melody and Paul McCartney and you’d find yourself singing along. You could tell what mood she was in by what song she played. If she was miserable, she would play ‘Eleanor Rigby’, over and over and over. If she was mad at us, at me and Susan, she would play ‘Yellow Submarine’. I don’t know why. I think it was because she thought we didn’t like it. And I don’t. I don’t know about Susan but I don’t. Although I’d like to hear it now.

‘Across the Universe’. That’s what we’re having at her funeral. Does that seem inappropriate to you? ‘Across the Universe’ and also ‘Penny Lane’. ‘Penny Lane’ was Sarah’s favourite.

Will you listen to me? I’m sorry.

No, I’m not being fair. I’ll prattle on all day if you let me.

That’s kind but there must be something in particular that you wanted to ask me. I’m sure you’ve not come here just to chat.

No, go ahead. Really, I don’t mind.

Well, I don’t know what I can tell you. She was only in year seven, she really hadn’t been there very long.

No, no trouble. She was very bright. She was very hard-working.

She enjoyed it, yes, I suppose so. As much as any kid enjoys going to school.

No, she never mentioned him. He taught her I suppose. I suppose he must have taught her.

The headmaster, yes, on several occasions. I spoke to him just yesterday, in fact. Something about a memorial service he was planning. He hadn’t fixed a date but he wanted to see what I thought. You know, just in principle. I told him I thought it was a fine idea. I don’t know though. I mean, I don’t know if we shall go. Probably we won’t. What with Susan and everything. But I told the headmaster that we would appreciate the gesture even if we didn’t actually attend. And that it would help the others. What’s that word the Americans use? You know, when you get to that point where you can put things behind you, where you’re able to move on.

Yes, that’s it. I don’t expect we shall ever get there but there’s the other children to think about, isn’t there? The ones who saw it all happen. The ones who lost their friends.

You’ve been to the school, I assume?

You’ve seen the tributes then. The flowers, the notes. The ribbons too. It’s astonishing, isn’t it? How many people just one life can touch. That helps sometimes. I feel guilty that it does but it helps: knowing that others are grieving too. In different ways, for different reasons most of them, but they’re grieving nonetheless. You know what they say about misery. There’s truth in those old sayings, don’t you think? Except for that one about healing, the one about time. I can’t imagine that there’s any truth in that.

But yes, the headmaster. He’s always seemed a decent enough fellow. He seems to say the right thing, make the right noises, you know. I don’t envy him his job, I can tell you. It can’t be easy, even in normal circumstances. He must be doing something right though because they’re under such scrutiny these days, aren’t they? The school always does well in the tables. It always comes out near the top. That’s why we sent Sarah there. That’s why we moved here.

No, thank you. I still have this one. I’m okay.

You know, it’s interesting that you ask. About the school. Because do you know what a friend of mine said? He said to me – well, actually, it was both of them, him and his wife – they said to me – Susan wasn’t there and I’m glad now I think about it that she wasn’t – but they said to me: you should sue. The school. Can you believe that? They told me I should sue the school. For hiring him. For putting him in charge of our children, they said. For taking a man at face value, I say. For not knowing what no one could have known.

Because no one could have known, could they? No one could have predicted what would happen. What he would do. You know that better than me, I’d imagine. You have access to his records, don’t you, to these lists people have, to these registers. And he was clean, wasn’t he? He had no history. The headmaster, he told me all of this. He assured me that there was nothing they could have done. He said this man had a vendetta against one of the children and that Sarah just got in his way. He said it was unfortunate, it was tragic but what happened was a freak, an aberration. He said it was the inscrutable will of God.

I haven’t spoken to them since. The friends I mentioned. I’m putting what they said down to shock. I mean, it’s everyone’s first reaction, isn’t it? To look for someone to blame. People say it’s an English thing, this need to find fault, to look for scapegoats, but I don’t think it’s just us. It’s human nature. I mean, I can’t deny that I have my moments. I can’t deny that sometimes I succumb. Do you know what I wish? Obviously you know what I wish but apart from that do you know what I wish? I wish that he weren’t dead. So I could talk to him. That’s why. Sometimes, that’s why. I wish he were alive so I could ask him… I’m not sure what I’d ask him. I’d ask him why I suppose. Although I don’t know that he would be able to answer. It seems to me if he were rational enough to be able to answer he wouldn’t have done what he did in the first place.

Then other times, other times I wish he were alive so I could kill him.

I don’t mean that. I don’t mean that.

Sometimes I think I do but I don’t.

I think what I’m doing is what my friends were doing. It’s hard, isn’t it? When there’s no one to blame when something terrible happens. Or when there’s no one left to blame. Do you know what I mean? It’s always easier to deal with the pain if you can twist that pain into anger, if you can lash out, if you can blame someone, anyone, even if they don’t deserve to be blamed.

Do you know what I mean?

Lucia was right.Though the clouds became bloated, there was no breach. The effect, rather, was like shutting the windows in a room that was already stuffy and overheated. And the clouds lingered. The afternoon was dark long before evening arrived. The evening was sunless, then starless. The night was no cooler than the day.