‘No, of course not, it’s fine. You mean the letter you put in my briefcase?’
‘Yes, love. Well, she asked me to keep it secret. She was only here for a little while, wanted to surprise you, could I put the envelope somewhere you’d definitely find it, she said. Then afterwards, I thought, why on earth did I put it in your briefcase? Of all the places, it could get lost in your files, and with them being so private too, I shouldn’t have. Then, when you didn’t mention it, I thought I better had. Hope I haven’t done wrong.’
I squeeze her hand. ‘Of course you haven’t, it’s absolutely fine. But, can I just ask, not that it really matters, but, why didn’t you just leave it in the house? I’m only curious.’
‘Well, love, that’s what I asked her too, why not just put it through the letterbox? But she said she wanted you to get the surprise personally. She was worried Jack might open it first otherwise.’
‘I see, now it makes sense,’ I say. ‘Right, I must be off, hopefully see you over the weekend. Pop by for a cup of tea, won’t you?’ I say.
‘I’ll look forward to it, love.’ A slight frown appears as I release her hand. ‘I’m assuming she didn’t catch up with you, then, your friend?’ she asks.
‘No, not as yet,’ I say. ‘Not really had the chance.’
‘Because, she came back, you know, hoping to catch you in. We had a natter. I did say before, you’re rarely here in the daytime, but she was passing by, so tried her luck. Shame.’
‘Right,’ is all I manage. ‘Was she here long?’
‘No, love, a few minutes. She seemed as if she was in a hurry. A little on edge. Humphrey liked her though. Made a proper fuss of her.’
The smell on Humphrey. ‘Did he, now? She made a fuss of him too, I suppose?’
‘Oh, yes, picked him up, loved him,’ she says. ‘After she’d gone, I let him at yours – meowing, he was, on the window sill.’
‘You gave him some food, too?’ I ask, everything beginning to make sense.
‘I did. Bless him. Then I was worried he’d be trapped in the house. It was a lovely day, so I opened that small window in the utility, thought he might find his own way out if he needed to.’
*
Thirty minutes later, weighty feet carry me up Lemon Street; headstrong gusts push against me as autumn leaves loop my shoes. I still can’t believe I’ve misjudged Sam so badly. How did it escape me, all those years ago, she was my chief bridesmaid, at the same time as having a torrid affair with the groom? I thought I knew her. Who else did I underestimate along the way? I climb the few steps, shoving at the door into clinic. I should have stayed off work today, but I have to keep my routine as normal as possible. Ruan raises his hand to me, engrossed in a telephone conversation. I continue through to my room. Minutes later, he delivers me hot coffee, still glued to the handset. Life does go on, it seems, even if you don’t feel part of it.
My day is chock-a-block. I somehow manage to operate under the clinician’s hat. At times, almost forgetting the magnitude of what lies ahead. A long-standing eating disorder, a consequence of early-school-years bullying. A complicated marital breakdown, with child protection issues, and someone who has developed a chronic phobia of seagulls. A telephone conversation with Milly’s mum, as we’re reducing our appointments, and Milly is doing well. My mind buzzing from copious amounts of caffeine, and trepidation, I write up my notes, then sit back into the depth of my chair. Close my eyes, and attempt to clear my mind. Seconds later, I jump up and pad over to the bookshelf. I pick out my grandfather’s book. ‘Forgive me,’ a voice inside says. ‘I’ve no choice. I have to do it; I know you’ll understand.’ I glance at the clock; my stomach rolls. It’s time to send the text.
A familiar numbness creeps over me. Reaching for my briefcase, I locate my mobile. In my mind, I see you, sauntering somewhere, clutching your mobile, anticipating my next move. Enjoying the moment. A shiver dancing down each vertebra. In the early hours of this morning, I was more okay with this stage; things feel less real, somehow, when everyone sleeps. I can’t lose my nerve, not now. Not if I want Jack to be free. Feeling unsteady on my feet, I lower myself back into the chair. Body and mind high on cortisol, mingling with adrenaline.
I stare at the screen of my mobile just as two bodies appear from behind the door: Bea and Ruan. ‘We thought you might fancy a drink later?’ incongruent smiles ask me.
‘Umm, no, I can’t. Thanks, but—’ Wait, this might just work. ‘What time you thinking?’
‘Sixish, or whatever suits you, makes no difference to us,’ offers Bea.
‘I’ll be there all night, so any time,’ says Ruan. ‘Come on, you look like you could do with a drink. No offence or anything.’
‘None taken.’ I do some speedy calculations. ‘Actually, I might take you both up on that. I’ve something on, straight from here, but I should be there sometime around six. All being well.’
‘Bring Jack too, if you’re worried about leaving him,’ Bea says.
I think about this. ‘Thanks, but I think he’ll be fine.’
They exchange a knowing glance. ‘You sure? It’s really not a problem for us,’ says Bea.
‘No, really. I’m sure, he’ll be fine. Thanks, though.’ I indicate my mobile. ‘I’m just about to call a client.’
I watch them leave, closing the door behind them. I type my instructions and click send. It’s the ‘first foot off the cliff’ moment again, I close my eyes. Seconds later, I’m informed, it’s been delivered. Placing my head in my hands, elbows on the desk, I try and remind myself who I am or who I used to be. Before you swaggered into my life, I was carefree, trusting, contented. Do you have any idea how much I’ve needed to change, to survive? To protect our son. Would I have become the person I am now, if it hadn’t been for you? But then, would I have needed to isolate myself, scratch off anyone who was important to me, if it hadn’t been for all the misplaced perceptions of others? The lies, so many lies, not to protect you, but to protect my self-worth, Jack. I mean, who remains in a marriage with someone like you? Who becomes the wife of a man like you? The mind thief. I’ve always wondered myself.
But by the time I wondered it was too late.
You’d already walked me along the fateful path, opened the cell door, showed me in. The figurative room had many one-way windows. I could see out but nobody could be allowed to look in. You gave me the key to this room; you placed it in my naive hands, watched me lock myself in. Made no attempt to take the key from me, did you? Allowed me to believe I could escape any time. Except, this wasn’t true, was it?
Lies and deceit bolted the door from the other side.
As time went on, your weakness became my strength. Our son. You viewed him as a threat, didn’t you? He changed my perception, my context, built my resolve. Your plan backfired as much as mine did. Because of Jack, tonight, I will force myself to walk back through the creepy corridors of what is our past. The only way me and Jack can truly be free is for us both to revisit, face to face. It’s not even about what I do tonight – more what I don’t do. I can live with this. Having learned the hard way about perception and context, I wonder if you’ve remembered – no one knows you are here, other than those who despise you; you have no context. You do not exist. You will not be missed. I will have no guilt.
You’ve nothing to lose; I have it all to lose. Rumour has it, the greater of the emotions at war will always succeed.
Yours is hate, mine is love.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Cornwall 2016