Michael Robotham - Bleed For Me

Julianne switches her gaze to me. Accusingly. ‘It’s really none of your business, Vincent,’ she says.

‘If you’re too embarrassed to talk about it . . .’

‘I’m not embarrassed.’

‘Maybe you should change the subject,’ I tell Ruiz.

‘So you don’t love him any more?’ he asks her.

Julianne hesitates. ‘I don’t love him like I used to.’

‘Jesus Christ, there’s only one sort of love.’

‘No there’s not,’ she says angrily. ‘You don’t love a child the same way as you love a husband or you love a friend or you love a parent or you love a movie.’

‘So what is it you don’t love about him?’

Julianne is beating the eggs like she wants to bruise them.

‘I don’t want to talk about this.’

Ruiz isn’t going to let up. ‘He’s still in love with you.’

‘Yes,’ says Julianne. ‘I know.’

‘And that doesn’t make any difference?’

‘It makes the world of difference. It makes it harder.’

‘I am in the room,’ I remind them.

‘Yes,’ replies Julianne. ‘Please tell Vincent to leave this alone.’

He raises his hands. ‘OK, but just answer me one thing - is it because he’s sick?’

I feel myself cringe. Julianne stiffens. It’s as though the air has been sucked out of the room and we’re sitting in a vacuum.

No longer beating the eggs, she whispers, ‘I know what you’re trying to do, Vincent, but I don’t need you to make me feel guilty. I feel guilty enough already. What sort of wife abandons her husband when he’s sick? I know that’s what people are saying behind my back. I’m a hard-hearted bitch. I’m the villain.’

‘That’s not what I said.’

‘Everyone loves Joe. He makes people feel special. He makes everyone feel as though they’re the only person in the room. I used to get so jealous - I used to wish someone would say something nasty or cruel about him. It was terrible. I hate myself for that.’

Julianne won’t look at me now.

‘You don’t know what it’s like - watching him crumble, knowing it’s going to get worse, knowing I can’t help him.’

‘You’re wrong,’ says Ruiz, softening his tone. ‘I watched my first wife die of cancer.’

‘And look what happened!’ says Julianne. ‘You ran off the rails. You abandoned the twins and went off to Bosnia. You’re still trying to make it right with them.’

The hurt flashes in Ruiz’s eyes. I never met his first wife, but I know she died of breast cancer and that Ruiz nursed her through her final weeks and months. Days after her death, he quit his job and went to Bosnia as a UN peacekeeper, leaving the twins with family. He couldn’t bear to be around anything that reminded him of Laura, including his own children.

Julianne wants to take the comment back. ‘I’m sorry, Vincent,’ she says softly. ‘I’m just trying to hold myself together - for the sake of the girls.’

Charlie appears, still in her pyjamas, her hair tousled and bed-worn.

‘Morning, Princess,’ says Ruiz. ‘Do I get a hug?’

‘No.’

‘So you’re not my girlfriend any more?’

‘As if!’

‘Maybe if I were twenty-five years younger?’

‘Try fifty.’

Everybody laughs - even Charlie, who slouches on a chair and puts her elbows on the table. ‘Why is everyone shouting?

‘We’re not shouting,’ replies Julianne. ‘We’re having a discussion. ’

Julianne asks if she wants some eggs. Charlie shakes her head.

‘Did Sienna ever use your computer?’ I ask.

‘I guess. Sometimes.’

‘Do you know what sort of stuff she was doing?’

‘Why?’

‘I’m trying to find out what sites she visited or if she sent any messages to people.’

Charlie puts two slices of bread into the toaster.

‘So you want to look at my computer?’

‘Yes.’

‘But you’re not spying on me?’

‘No.’

Then she shrugs. ‘I got nothing to hide.’

After she butters her toast, I follow her upstairs to her room where she munches noisily in my ear as the laptop boots up. She once described her bedroom as being ‘designer messy’, as though she dropped clothes with artistic intent.

‘Do you remember the last time Sienna used it?’

‘When she slept over.’

It was probably a week night. I search through the history directory, going back to before Sienna’s arrest. I recognise some of the sites - Facebook, Bebo and YouTube. There are some music pages and Google searches.

‘Are these your searches?’ I ask.

‘I think so.’

‘Can you see anything unusual? Something you wouldn’t have called up.’

Scrolling through the history directory, she runs her finger down the screen. One site comes up regularly: Teenbuzz.

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s a chat room. Loads of my friends use it.’

‘Sienna?’

‘Sure.’

‘What’s your username?’

She looks at me sheepishly. ‘Madforyou.’

‘What about Sienna’s?’

‘She’s Hippychick.’

The site has a variety of different chat rooms with names like ‘Just Friends’, ‘Young at Heart’ and the ‘Chillout Room’. Some are forums on music, movies or relationships, but all come with a list of warnings, advising users not to give out personal contact details, addresses or to use their real names.• You are strongly advised to NEVER meet anyone that you know just from the Internet.• Predatory, threatening, harassing and illegal behaviour will not be tolerated. The police will be contacted and offenders prosecuted.

‘How often did Sienna use the chat room?’

‘Pretty much every day.’

Charlie can see where I’m going with this. ‘It’s really safe, Dad. We’re not stupid - we’re not going to tell people where we live. We just chat.’

‘Did Sienna have any favourite people she chatted with?’

Charlie falters. ‘I guess.’

‘Who?’

‘There was this one guy, Rockaboy.’

‘What do you know about him?’

She shrugs. ‘They used to meet.’

‘Where?’

‘In a private chat room.’

‘They were alone?’

‘Chill out, Dad, it’s not like you can get pregnant typing messages to someone.’

‘Did you ever chat to this Rockaboy?’

Charlie brushes hair away from her eyes. ‘Sometimes.’

‘Did he say anything about himself?’

‘You’re not supposed to do that.’

‘He must have given some clues.’

She sits cross-legged on her bed, balancing her plate on her knee. ‘He likes some of the indie bands like Arctic Monkeys and The Kooks. He doesn’t like school very much.’

‘Did he like the same music as Sienna?’

Charlie frowns. ‘How did you know that?’

‘What about his favourite subject at school?’

‘Drama.’

Feeling uncomfortable, Charlie changes the subject. ‘Are you coming Tuesday night?’

‘Where?’

‘To the school musical.’

‘I thought it was postponed.’

‘Mr Ellis has decided to go ahead. We’re giving one performance only. Jodie Marks is going to play Sienna’s role. Do you think Sienna is going to mind?’

Charlie doesn’t know about the suicide attempt and I’m not going to tell her. It can be something else she blames me for later.

‘Can I go see her?’ she asks.

‘Not today.’

Side by side we walk up the hill, filling the silence with our breathing. Ruiz limps slightly on his shorter leg - the legacy of a high-velocity bullet that tore through his upper thigh leaving a four-inch exit hole. A second bullet amputated his wedding finger. That was five years ago when he was found floating in the Thames, bleeding out, without any memory of the shooting.