Idly he picked them up as Leila finished off her face.
‘Leila...’ James asked. ‘Where did you get these pills?’
Leila hesitated, for even in death she tried to protect Jasmine’s reputation. ‘From a doctor.’
‘Okay,’ James said, ‘let’s rephrase that. When did you get these pills?’
‘I can’t remember.’
‘They expired years ago.’ Good God, James thought as he read the date on them again—they had actually expired more than a decade ago!
‘Expired?’
He handed her the packet and pointed to the date and he saw her frown. ‘Medicines expire,’ James said, ‘in the same way that food does. Don’t you look at the top of your yoghurt...’ And he stopped then because what would Leila know about expiry dates and such like. ‘They go off. These pills wouldn’t work now.’
She felt stupid, embarrassed; she felt naive and very sure that he would be cross with her.
‘I didn’t know,’ Leila whimpered in panic. She was instantly back to the time in her bathroom with her chopped hair on the floor beside her and she was ashamed. ‘I was wrong...’
‘It’s okay,’ James said. He got that she simply didn’t know. What he didn’t get was that her eyes were filling with tears and that Leila, who only cried at night, who rarely revealed herself to him, was starting to break down. ‘Leila, it’s fine,’ James said. ‘I’m not cross. I get that it was a mistake...’ He gave her a smile and regrettably made just a little dig. ‘Though it’s a mistake that only you could make.’
He was appalled as she crumpled.
‘They were Jasmine’s,’ Leila sobbed. ‘They belonged to Jasmine. I had hidden them for her.’
‘Your sister who died?’ James checked, and Leila nodded. She never really spoke about them; she just tried to halt things when he asked questions about her family, but he asked a direct one now. ‘How long ago did that happen?’
‘Sixteen years ago.’
He had assumed, just from the little she had told him, that whatever had happened had been a couple of years ago. That her mother had not been able to look at her since then appalled James.
Sixteen years was a helluva long time to be ignored.
She started crying then, really crying, and James took her to the lounge and, through tears, she told him some of her truth.
‘Jasmine had a trunk that I hid in my dressing room. The night I left Surhaadi, I had an argument with my mother. I was going to show her that Jasmine had been up to no good when she died, but then I decided to use those things on me instead. Everything that night was Jasmine’s—the clothes, the shoes, the make-up. I was trying to be her...’ She waited for the repercussions, for the crack of the whip. For him to tell her what a fool she was, for that was all she was used to, but when he spoke it was not in anger.
‘That’s pretty messed up, Leila,’ James said. And then she looked up and she could not believe that he gently smiled as he carried on speaking. ‘So I was making out with the ghost of Jasmine?’
How could he touch on such a painful subject and not hurt her further?