by C J Morrow
Together.
‘Robin. What’s the matter with you?’ I hold my breath. I feel my heart beating with anxiety in my chest.
‘Nothing. I’m absolutely fine.’
Of course he is. He’s back at work. He’s even doing his tutoring. He must be fine, he couldn’t work if he wasn’t. I calm down.
But there must be something or he would let me see him.
I think of my injuries, life-threatening, Mum described them as. My head and face the most damaged. Robin and I were sitting side-by-side in the car. We must have hung in our seatbelts together. With my careless – no dangerous – driving I have scarred Robin’s beautiful face. There was a fire, the car caught fire. Have I burnt him?
‘Are you scarred, Robin?’ My voice is a tiny whisper.
‘Not permanently,’ he says, the hint of a smile in his voice. ‘Don’t worry.’
‘Then show me.’
‘No.’
Ten
I don’t remember Robin leaving.
After his emphatic no, he refused to say anymore, he wouldn’t answer my questions or show me his face. He patted my arm occasionally, my injured one, even though I have asked him not to. He must have left after I fell asleep.
‘Do you think I’ll ever get all my memory back?’ I’m asking Emma, the physio, just as I ask every member of the medical staff.
‘Maybe. Maybe not. It’s hard to say. What does your doctor say?’
‘Same as you. Brain damage. Blah blah blah.’ I wave my arms around in exasperation.
‘Good movement,’ Emma says. ‘Keep practising. How are your eyes?’
‘Not fully cooperating.’ I wink at her, not entirely on purpose.
‘Keep trying.’
I’m wracked with guilt about Robin. Not only because I’ve scarred him, hurt him, damaged him, but because it hadn’t occurred to me before to ask after his health, his injuries. What is wrong with me? Did I just assume that he walked away from that mess without a mark on him?
That’s exactly what I thought. Except that I wasn’t even thinking about him. Just myself.
How stupid. And selfish.
The day passes; during physio I manage more independent steps, before slumping exhausted into the chair. Emma parks the walker beside me in case I need it. My eyes still refuse to play nicely, my arms ache and my head itches. Apparently, that’s a good sign: healing and hair regrowth.
‘There’s a rumour I might be going home later this week.’ I force my right eye open and watch Mum’s face.
‘That’s wonderful. Amazing.’ She leans in and kisses me; she smells of floral perfume and talcum powder. It takes me back to my childhood, way back, even before Mads, when there was just me and Mum and Dad. I suppose that’s where we’ve gone back to now; three where there were once four.
I can’t wait to tell Robin the good news, although I have mixed feelings about it. He’ll be pleased I’m recovering, but worried about how he will cope with me when I get home.
‘Have they said exactly when?’ Mum sounds excited.
‘No. It’s always vague. Or so I’ve been told. According to Emma…’
‘Who?’
‘Oh, Emma, she’s my physio. She said they will just come in one day and say I can go.’
‘Just like that? That doesn’t seem right. Don’t they have to make some sort of support available, or something?’ Mum’s voice now sounds more panicked than excited.
‘I don’t know.’ I attempt a shrug, it’s not very successful, my neck still doesn’t work properly. ‘I’ll ask.’
‘Yes, so will I.’
That’s a shame; I was quite excited about going home, not so sure now.
‘It’s the night I worry about most,’ Mum continues. ‘Supposing you take ill in the night?’
‘Yeah.’ I imagine Robin running around trying to resuscitate me. He won’t like that. Even taking me to the toilet in the middle of the night will not go down well with him. He won’t let Mum stay overnight, I know that. He may have given her a key, but he’ll draw the line at that. Despite having a four-bedroom house we only have one bedroom; the others are dressing-rooms, one each for Robin and me and a store room. ‘We can always ring an ambulance,’ I say hoping I don’t stop breathing in the night. But I’m not sure what we’ll do if I need the loo and Mum’s not there.
‘You’re right, we’ll manage,’ she says, neither reassuring herself nor me. ‘I’ll just go and have a word…’ With that she is up and out of the room.
I let my eye close, allowing it to rest while Mum’s away.
‘Hello.’ Sally bursts into the room. ‘Where’s your Mum?’
‘Gone to speak to someone.’ I can’t be bothered to go over it again.
Sally pulls up a chair and rustles in her bag.
‘More cherries from Stephen.’ She puts the punnet on my lap.
I open my eye, smile at her and examine the cherries. ‘Washed?’
She nods.
I pop one into my mouth. I cannot resist. I tell her to thank Stephen; she reiterates how he would like to come and visit me. My response is to stuff two cherries in my mouth, thus making it impossible for me to reply.
I would like to see him. He’s a piece of normality I’d like to clutch on to. He wasn’t in the car, he wasn’t in the accident. I haven’t done anything to hurt him, I haven’t scarred his face like I have Robin’s. He knew Mads but he won’t be heartbroken about her death, not like Mum and Dad are, and me. It would be good to see him. But there’s always the fear that I’ve seen too much of him already.
And Robin will not allow him to visit me at home once I’m out of here.
‘Did you hear me?’ Sally asks. ‘I said Stephen is still keen to see you.’
‘Maybe later in the week, before I go home.’
‘You’re going home? When? That’s wonderful.’
‘Not sure yet.’
‘It’s okay,’ Mum says as she comes back. ‘They’ll send the district nurses round to check on you and change dressings if necessary, and give us plenty of notice. You won’t just be tipped out into the street. And I’ve spoken to your work…’
‘My work? Why?’
‘They think your health insurance should cover some support too. Physio at home when you get out, that sort of thing. Good insurance that. How long have you had it?’
‘Don’t know. Always. It’s a company perk.’
‘Excellent perk.’ Sally laughs before continuing. ‘I’ll tell Stephen soon, then, shall I?’
‘Yeah.’ Well, I would like to see him even if I do feel pressured into it. I sigh, not too audibly, and lift my hands to my head. I find the prickly hair and the wounds. ‘Are these staples?’ Horrified, I run my fingers over the hard metal edges.
‘Yes.’ Mum says, ‘that’s how they fixed it.’
‘Oh. Yuk. And is this a hole?’ I push my finger into the indent?’
‘Yes. That’s where they had one of the drains.’
‘Uh no.’ I don’t think I want to hear any more. No wonder Robin always sits on the opposite side to my scars. Maybe that’s part of why he won’t move round.
‘You were lucky, they said. They were able to reattach your skull because most of the swelling was at the front. Your eyes…’ Mum’s voice trails away.
‘Don’t tell me anymore.’
‘There is more. When I spoke to the nurse she said they need to take the staples out soon.’
‘How soon?’ I am starting to feel sick at the prospect.
‘Probably tomorrow morning. Do you want me to come up?’
‘Yes please.’
‘Oh, no. I can’t. I have a dentist appointment. Damn.’
‘Can’t you change it?’
‘I could, but I only booked it this morning. Emergency…’ her voice trails away. ‘I’ve got bad toothache.’
‘Oh, poor you. You must go, Lyndsey,’ Sally says.
‘Yes, you must. I’ll be fine.’ Maybe Robin can come. Who am I kidding?
/>
‘Maybe you could come, Sally.’ Mum sounds desperate.
‘I’ve got my hospital appointment. I’ve waited nine months for it. It’s about my bunion. But I’ll come up immediately after, I’m in the same building, after all.’ She laughs. ‘Hopefully the timing will work.’
‘Thank you.’ I feel quite frightened. Quite alone. I’ll mention it to Robin but he’s so squeamish he’ll probably refuse.
‘When you get out of here, we’ll get Paula round to cut your hair. If it’s all short, it’ll all grow back at the same pace. You’ll hardly notice it then.’ Paula is Mum’s hairdresser, she comes to the house. Mum’s had her for years and her hair always looks great. I can see the sense in what Mum’s saying. And, if I’m honest I’d quite like a change. The prospect of trying to arrange my hair over the bald bits doesn’t appeal. But, a nagging voice is telling me not to go short.
‘I don’t know, Mum. I’ll see how it looks.’
‘It looks godawful,’ Sally says, blunt as usual. ‘Juliette, have a new style. It’ll really buck you up.’
I open my eye and look at Mum. She’s waiting.
‘I don’t know. Robin wouldn’t like it.’
Mum and Sally exchange glances. Mum leans over and pats my arm.
‘No, he wouldn’t. You see how you feel about it.’
‘But…’ Sally starts and stops. No doubt Mum has shared her dislike of Robin with her best friend, but he likes my hair long and he’s my husband and after all that’s happened I don’t want to upset him further.
After they’ve gone I realise that the punnet of cherries is still on my lap. I had meant to ask Mum to put it in my bedside locker. I don’t want to have the cherry conversation with Robin again. I haul myself up, gripping onto the back of the chair with one hand and the cherry punnet with the other and survey the distance I must travel. The walker is on the other side of the bed. Too far away for me reach it. Mum or Sally must have moved it. Six steps. I’m sure that is all it will take. I can do it.
The first two steps are easy, now I need to let go of the chair. Four more steps. I can do it. I’ll be able to grab the bed on my way. It should be easy. I let go of the chair and stand, waiting for my balance to even out. Then I step. Great. Then another step. Only two more steps and I will be there.
I feel woozy. Light-headed. The room looks spotty.
‘I hear you had a fall.’ Robin’s voice is soft in my left ear. ‘How are you?’
I open my right eye. I can’t turn my head. I can’t see him. I’m in bed with the sides up. I’m tucked in tight.
‘I was dizzy.’
‘What were you doing?’
I can hardly tell him I was hiding the cherries.
‘I was trying out walking.’
‘On your own? Hmm. You need to take it easy. Don’t overdo it.’
‘Okay.’ I wonder where the cherries are now? Probably all over the floor. I hope he doesn’t notice. Hopefully they’ve been picked up and thrown away.
‘I see cherry-man has been again.’
‘Sally brought them.’
‘Oh yes, his mother.’ The words are filled with vitriol.
‘How are you now?’ I ask, changing the subject.
‘Me? I’m fine. I told you yesterday.’ He doesn’t sound fine.
‘How’s work?’
‘Fine. Busy. You know.’
This is hard work; it should be him cajoling me, not me sweet-talking him.
We sit in uncomfortable silence. It shouldn’t be like this. He’s my husband. We’ve been married for ten years. It should be easy.
‘Robin, is everything all right?’
‘Hardly, Juliette. Look at you.’
‘No. I know. I didn’t mean me, this, I meant…’ What do I mean? ‘Between us. Are we okay?’
‘Course we are. Look, I’ve been here a while watching you sleep and it’s getting late. So, I think I’ll get off. I’ve got a pupil tonight and I want to have something to eat beforehand.’
‘Oh. Okay. Robin, what day is it? I lose track in here.’ Mum said it was Tuesday when Robin told me it was Saturday, so I think it must be Thursday today.
‘Thursday,’ he says, scraping his chair as he stands up.
‘Good. That’s what I thought. That’s good. Yeah.’
‘Does it matter?’
‘No. But, you know. Now I’m getting better I like to know. Only you told me it was Saturday the other day, and it wasn’t.’
‘I don’t think I did, Juliette.’
‘You did.’
‘I think you misheard me. I don’t remember having any conversation about what day it was. I think you’re still very confused.’
Why does he sound so angry?
‘Okay. You’re probably right.’
‘I am right. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
The door opens and Jeff’s jolly face comes into view. He’s smiling.
‘Bye Jeff,’ Robin says, ‘she’s all yours.’ As Robin leaves Jeff moves towards me and blocks my view. I’ve missed the opportunity to see what I’ve done to Robin’s beautiful face.
‘Hey hun, I heard you had a fall so I thought I’d pop by on my way home. I miss seeing you every day.’ Jeff picks up my hand and rubs it.
‘I’m okay. I was just being a bit ambitious with the walking.’
‘You got to take it easy. Where’s that call button?’ He searches the bed until he finds it nestling between my knees. ‘Here, have it where you can reach it.’ He pushes it into my hands. ‘Have you eaten this evening?’
Have I? I don’t remember. But now he’s reminded me, I do feel hungry. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘I’ll go find out. I should get off now, but I’ll pop by tomorrow. You take care, hun. And no walking alone.’ He laughs, so do I. Jeff’s brief visit has lifted my spirits.
Damn, I forgot to ask Robin if he could come up when my staples are removed. Not that I know exactly when that is. Sometime tomorrow morning. He’ll be at work. He’s squeamish; it’s not fair to ask him.
Five minutes later my tea arrives. I ask for what’s left of the cherries too; half a punnet.
I’ve almost finished the cherries, when Dad arrives. He looks anxious.
‘What’s been happening? You fell over. They’ve just told us.’
‘I’m fine. Don’t worry. Just thought I could run before I could walk.’ I laugh. I do feel fine. And a bit silly.
Mum bursts in, her face ashen.
‘Juliette. They said you were walking around with the cherry punnet. Why?’
I attempt a shrug, and this time my shoulders move properly. I should be celebrating my mobility, instead I wish they’d forget about my fall. I can feel my throat clogging up. I think I might cry.
‘Don’t cry, darling.’ Mum hugs me.
‘I’m fine. Really.’ I snivel into her shoulder. It feels so comforting. I wish Robin would hold me like this.
‘I’ll tell Sally to tell Stephen, no more cherries.’
‘Don’t do that?’ I pull myself away. ‘I love them.’ I laugh as Mum pulls a pack of tissues from her handbag and hands me one, taking one herself.
We sit and chat about nothing, reminiscing about old times, times before Mads was born, times after. We don’t mention her by name but she’s a presence we’re all aware of avoiding. Finally, I can stand it no longer.
‘Why do you think she did it?’ I say, watching Dad jump and Mum pale.
Mum and Dad sit silent for a moment, both deep in thought.
Dad starts his sentence with a deep breath. ‘I don’t think she did. Not on purpose, anyway.’
Mum shakes her head.
‘Do you think she was bullied at school?’ Isn’t that what Robin had told me?
‘Maybe.’ Dad shakes his head. ‘I don’t know. The school haven’t been particularly forthcoming. You’d think they’d know more. They say they weren’t aware of any bullying. Madeleine, according to them, was a popular girl and good student.’
‘
She was.’ Mum’s voice is a squeak. ‘They’d tell you, Brian. You spoke to the Head, she’d tell you. You’re colleagues. Equals.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘I don’t know where she got the pills from.’ Mum sniffs. The tissue goes up to her eyes.
‘No.’ Robin says such things can be sourced easily, but I’m not saying that to Mum. Why compound her misery.
‘You can get anything you want these days, Lyndsey. Anything.’ Dad’s head is shaking again.
‘On the bloody internet. We should never have let her have that phone or that bloody laptop. When it broke down a few weeks before she died we should have left it broken. I wished Stephen had never fixed it.’ Mum’s crying properly now. I wished I’d never said anything. But I have to know. I have to find out the truth.
‘I don’t think she did it. On purpose,’ Dad says again.
‘No,’ Mum and I chorus.
‘Any sign of that letter?’
‘No.’ I wonder how well Robin looked for it. ‘But I’ll have a good look when get home.’ I imagine it stuffed in the letter rack, or fallen down the back of the hall table, or even dropped on Robin’s desk. I doubt he’s let Mum into his study; he keeps the door locked when he’s not in it.
‘I’ve looked,’ Mum says. ‘But I don’t know your house.’
‘No.’ I feel sheepish. Mum and Dad should have been welcome in our home. After this is over, once I’m out of here, things are going to change.
Robin had the lock put on his study door within a week of us moving in.
‘Pupil confidentiality, Juliette. We can’t be too careful. Also, that’s a brand new, expensive computer.’
‘I’m hardly going to touch it.’ What was he suggesting? ‘I have my laptop.’ Any work I did from home was fitted onto the corner of the kitchen table, Robin didn’t like me to use the dining-room table; the John Lewis one.
‘You’re not the issue. It’s if someone breaks in.’ He rolled his eyes as though that was obvious and I was stupid.
‘Wouldn’t stop them if that’s what they really wanted,’ I muttered before walking away. ‘Anyway, don’t you have it password protected?’
‘Of course,’ he shouted. I was in the kitchen by then, turning on the oven, wondering what we should have for tea.