I looked to her concerned face. Did she think I really wasn’t coping, then? Had she guessed the truth? I turned away, grasping for Jack’s blanket I’d carelessly dropped on the floor. What was the truth anyway? Mine? His? The truth was, I couldn’t ask my mum, the only person I’d want with me, because it wasn’t worth the heartache, the inevitable ensuing rows. I couldn’t ask for my friends because I no longer had any; contact with them had long ceased. I’d not seen Sam for months. Following her no-show at the golf club, we had another disagreement about you; I reacted defensively. Why did I do that? Defend your horribleness? To save my own face?
The truth, Janet, was no; I couldn’t and wouldn’t have visitors. But this was to be my secret, my lie. For the time being. Pushing myself up to meet Janet’s eyes, I fibbed, ‘Yes, yes, I do. I’m lucky, I have several people to call on. Please, don’t worry, I’ll be fine, really. Gregg will be home soon too.’ I pointed to the hall clock. ‘Any time now, in fact.’
‘Good, super,’ she said. ‘I’ll be off, then, love. See you next week. You know where I am if you need me, but I’m sure you’ll be absolutely fine!’
True to word, you came home early, just gone seven. I was in the bathroom, giving Jack his first home bath. A sentiment of dread gripped me as the crashing of the front door reverberated through the solid floors. Then silence. I’d made the decision after Janet left not to give up; perhaps I was being overly sensitive, reading into things I didn’t need to. Jumping to silly conclusions. ‘Gregg? Gregg, are you there?’ I called. ‘Come and look. Quick, come and see Jack. He’s having his first bath!’ I hollered. Nothing.
I could hear you downstairs. At first it sounded as if you were opening post, something you always did as soon as you walked through the door. Then, the familiar sound of you muttering away to yourself. Banging around. It wasn’t a good sign. I was about to call out again when I heard the trill of your mobile. Blasted phone; such an intruder of time. I could tell by your tone, whoever it was, whatever they were saying, was not something to please you. I half attempted to eavesdrop, but Jack was so blissfully distracting, kicking his legs around to the familiar feel of water. Until your voice began to rise.
‘Where are you? I told you not to discuss this in the office. Far too risky.’
I smiled at Jack as I dribbled warm water over his tummy.
‘What the…? How did he get involved?’ you continued. I strained further; what had happened? ‘Right, listen to me. You need to smooth this over. Call him now, tell him we need to meet tonight.’ The word ‘tonight’ crushed my intentions. ‘Then, book a flight for later this week. I can’t go, not a chance, far too dicey. You need to go.’ Who was he speaking to? ‘Not interested, change it. I’ll be there in an hour.’ Silence.
I continued to bath Jack, aware of my heart pumping against the bath panel. It was a good few minutes before you thundered up the stairs. Your twitchy body materialised in the doorway. ‘What the hell have you been doing all day?’ you snapped, in total ignorance of your son.
‘I’ve been here all day. Why? What d’you mean?’ Was I supposed to have done something?
‘The house is a pigsty. You were at home all day.’ You kicked the door with the side of your foot. ‘You might be okay living like this, but, I. Am. Not. I work really hard. Keeping the house is all you have to see to. What have you prepared for dinner?’
You knew I hadn’t, else you wouldn’t have asked. Jack flipped around in his new-found joy, splashing water into my eye, blurring your angry face.
‘Well, I—’
‘Perfect. I’ll eat out, then. You need to get a grip. Sort yourself out, Eve. It’s truly, truly embarrassing. The state of this place. What if someone had come back with me?’ You turned away, shaking your head, pulling the door behind you.
‘Gregg, please,’ I pointlessly implored as you stomped your hard-done-to way down the stairs to the sound of the jingling of your car keys. Moments later came the ricochet of the front door slamming.
‘Gregg, please,’ I whispered to Jack, ‘we really need you to be here tonight.’
Jack thrust at the water again, splattering my eyes; I wasn’t sure if it was runaway splish-splashes, or whether the tears had finally burst their banks.
Chapter Seventeen
In my dreams I see a woman slumped. Her heavy head suspended by threadbare strings. Feet lightly tap the shifting floor. Primed for flight. She examines them to avoid eyeballing faces behind the glass screen. Yearning for things to be different. She contemplates leaving an empty seat, the easier option; she should know. She feels hollow, yet heavy and helpless.
Wait, I recognise her.
She’s me.
Another woman moves slowly towards me. I look up. Her hand held out as she smiles, but I cannot feel it. In return my eyes peek out from under heavy lids.
I sense I know her too. Perhaps she is my last chance. Perhaps she has come to help me.
A concealed sadness saturates my dark hollow eyes as I stand slowly to contemplate hope. Legs too exhausted to carry the encumbrance. My lifeless hand meets hers; it has no strength. I know this hasn’t always been so. Words spike my dry throat, a nod suffices.
I follow her, trapped in a trance-like state, a few steps behind. Feeling so utterly out of control. A puppet reacting and responding. I sense she feels the weight of me behind. Yet I am so slight. I ooze desolation, debilitated by unyielding meaningless thoughts. An emotional hijacking in progress.
But I’m not alone; depression thieves many prisoners, clouding perspectives, intimidating and isolating its prey. I ask of her, ‘What about the dark? I’m afraid of the dark.’
She tells me, ‘The light is dimmed, but not gone. It’s not always been dark. Your reality now is not the truth. Hold this small pebble to your eye, see how it distorts your view. Your memories do the same. The dark obscures the truth. This is not your truth, Eve. You need to fight back.’
Wait, I remember, I do recognise her.
She is me too! She’s all I have; my last hope.
I am alone, me and now Jack.
I wake.
Chapter Eighteen
Cornwall 2016
A slow wistful walk up Lemon Street, a million consternations resting heavy on my shoulders. I take a deep nasal breath of crisp autumnal air. It’s such a beautiful day, I was coerced to the beach before clinic this morning; the sea beckoned me down. In need of the kind of perspective the turquoise waters always allow me, I followed. Switching off the ignition, I remained, transfixed, stretching my gaze as far as I could out to sea. What was happening the other side of those waters? Maybe someone was looking back at me, wondering the same? Mesmerised by the mélange of blues, greens and frothy whites, lapping marbled silver slate rocks. Thrashing waves, gradually creeping closer, pilfering our beach. But what was happening beneath the shifting surface? I tried to remind myself of its vastness as my world began to close in once again. My concerns were a drop in the ocean. I couldn’t drown, not now.
Fresh tides washing away the deeds of yesterday – why couldn’t life do the same? A moving figure caught my eye, making me start as the shadow knocked on the side glass: Charlie. He giggled, waving, oblivious to my startled response, before ambling away to his seemingly uncomplicated job. Unlike mine, loading already encumbered shoulders. How did life become so complicated? Didn’t we sometimes miss the point?