Ron pulls a face which would be suited better to the bedroom. I shudder at the thought.
‘Annette’s just nipped out, actually, to get some pickled eggs for Christmas Eve,’ he says to James. ‘Actually…’ He turns his attention to me, a glint in his eye. ‘I could bring them Christmas Day if you like? What do you say, Louisa? You fancy having a nibble on my pickled eggs?’ He laughs so loudly I’m certain he’s going to choke. ‘Here, put it here, put it here,’ he snorts, holding his hand up to James, ready to receive a high five.
‘Good one, Ron, good one.’ James feigns a laugh but stuffs his hands into his jeans pockets.
‘Anyway…’ Ron scratches his bald head with the offending hand, as if that’s what was always intended. ‘What did you want to ask me, Louisa?’
I flick my eyes over to James, not particularly comfortable asking the question in front of him. He raises his eyebrows, a flicker of annoyance visible just behind his pupils. ‘I want to know how strong this medication is,’ I say, deciding that Cory’s wellbeing has to come before James’s feelings. If I’m going to be forced into taking antidepressants, then surely I have a right to know more about them? ‘It’s just that I’m not comfortable taking the antidepressants if they’re going to turn me into a zombie.’
Ron drops his gaze, as if uncomfortable discussing my sanity, or lack thereof, with James present. ‘Well, Fluoxetene isn’t so bad. It’s a common sort of antidepressant.’ His voice catches in his throat. ‘You should be fine.’
‘Here you go.’ The young blonde appears back at Ron’s side and hands me a small white bag which I quickly stuff into the bottom of my bag. ‘Do you want to just pop over to the till while I ring it through?’ she continues, already sashaying over to the other end of the counter.
‘She could wring me though any day,’ whispers Ron when she’s safely out of earshot, his words directed at James, who forces out a laugh.
‘Oh shit, talking of ringing.’ James pats down both coat pockets simultaneously. ‘I’ve only gone and left my phone in the waiting room. I’ll just go and get it, won’t be a tick. Meet you outside the doctor’s,’ he says to me. He hurries back down the centre aisle, presumably leaving me to deal with the small task of getting the pram back down the icy steps. I sigh. Why did he even bother to come inside in the first place? Hadn’t he been the one to say the steps were too slippery for the pram?
I look up at the time, annoyed that it’s now 10 a.m. and we’re still faffing around in what can only be described as a blizzard. At this rate we won’t even make it home in time for Christmas Day, and will probably have to resort to cannibalism like in the film Alive. At least then I wouldn’t be subjected to Ron’s pickled eggs, which is a silver lining of sorts.
‘Anyway, Ron, I’d best be off. Say hi to Annette for me.’ I stuff my bag under the pram and begin pushing it towards the door.
‘See you in two days’ time,’ he shouts after me, his excitement skimming over the top of the aisles. ‘We’ll be sure to get to you bright and early.’
‘Brilliant,’ I mutter under my breath, James nowhere in sight as I step back into Narnia. ‘I can’t bloody wait!’
‘For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the powers of this dark world.’ Ephesians 6: 12
It satisfies me how wonderfully things are coming together, how single strokes of truth are providing the shading to a portrait otherwise based on lies. Key characters are now beginning to realise that dear Louisa is losing her mind, which is a crucial element in taking the mission forward. Of course she is making it relatively easy for me, her natural angst, peppered with her colourful past, providing the perfect backdrop.
I am, however, concerned by her sudden spunkiness, her quiet belief that she’s still sane. It would seem that becoming a mother has done all kinds of weird and wonderful things to her.
If I’m honest, I had thought the doctor would prescribe her something a little more potent than Fluoxetene, especially given her history. Still, didn’t I always say I planned ahead? The key to success is to plan for every eventuality, leaving nothing to chance.
I round the corner of the pharmacy, every step I take leaving fresh, clean footprints in the snow. It’s so beautiful I almost want to lie down on the ground and make a snow angel.
Taking my mobile phone out of my coat pocket, I quickly swipe across the screen until I locate the number I am looking for. As I place the phone to my ear, excitement licks at the lining of my soul. Of course I always knew there may come a time when I could no longer act alone. As our good Lord says, ‘Two are better than one, for if either of them falls down, one can help the other back up.’
‘There you are! What took you so long? Cory’s so cold the White Witch called asking if she could exhibit him in her ice palace beside Mr Tumnus.’
‘Don’t be so dramatic,’ says James, shaking his head at me as he makes his way across the surgery’s car park, shoulders tensed and hair stuck up through the middle. ‘I found it, by the way, thanks for asking. Some snotty-nosed kid was pretending to ring Santa on it; remind me to disinfect it when we get home.’
‘If we ever get home, that is!’ I tilt the pram towards me in order to swivel it around. ‘Anyway, at least we don’t have to go out now for the foreseeable future. I think I’ve had quite enough snow already for one year.’
We walk in the direction of home, me pushing the pram and James traipsing several paces behind, seemingly distracted, or perhaps still angry at me for one reason or another. I want to ask him what his problem is. After all, it’s me who’s being forced to take antidepressants, me who everybody believes is a basket case. I don’t say anything though, knowing that to do so wouldn’t improve the situation at all.
The gritters are now out in full force on the main road that runs parallel to the pavement we are walking on, spewing up lorry loads of grit which produces a backdraught of acrid dust. ‘Can we turn off this road, please?’ I ask. ‘The fumes can’t be good for Cory’s chest.’
‘Lou.’ Behind me, James sighs. ‘ Do you ever give it a rest?’
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from replying. It’s obvious he wants a fight, but I’m determined not to give him one. It seems as if, ever since the discussion in the pharmacy, his mood has flipped back to arrogant arsehole. I only questioned the antidepressants, for God’s sake; it’s not as if I refused to take them. I sigh, not knowing what to do or say for the best. Of course I understand how difficult all of this is for James, not least because he’s witnessed my depression before. Not that I have depression now but I suppose he isn’t to know that.
‘It’s a little late to be gritting the road though, isn’t it?’ I say, trying to keep my tone light.
‘Perhaps the gritters didn’t get the memo,’ he replies, still several paces behind. ‘Either that or our wonderful government has cut the workers in two like everything else.’
I sigh, not particularly wanting to discuss the government’s shortcomings at this time of the morning. Working for the NHS, James has witnessed the rapid decline in both funding and provision since the recession, something he’ll drone on about until Easter given half the chance.
‘Sorry about Ron and Annette,’ I say, changing the subject for what seems like the tenth time in as many minutes. ‘It completely slipped my mind, to be honest. We can cancel if you like.’
James laughs, the sound breaking through some of the animosity between us. ‘If you do I reckon you’ll have to share them pills in your bag with Ron – poor sod will be suicidal.’ He catches up with me and drapes his arm around my shoulder, kissing me lightly on the top of my head, which is unexpected, but I realise just how grateful I am for it. ‘Sorry, Lou, for being an arse. I’m just a bit stressed in all honesty.’
I lean my head into his chest. ‘It’s all right, I understand.’