“I haven’t. Honestly. I’ve experienced a breakdown, obviously. But my head’s fine. Check with a scan or something if you like. I’ll do anything you want. I just don’t want to do it tonight, and I don’t want to stay in hospital. I want to stay here.”
Debbie could feel the huge wad of fear dissolving. He’d said it. He wanted to be here. She wasn’t going to lose him. The escaping misery ran down her face in stinging streams merging bizarrely with a smile which refused to wane.
Doctor Kay sighed. The police looked more than happy to leave the situation in the obviously capable hands of this successful, affluent family.
“Well,” he finally said. “I suppose…”
And it was settled. Matthew would stay home until such time as concerns for his health; either from the blood tests currently taking place, or from observations by Debbie, or the others deemed otherwise. Appointments for relevant scans would be sent out in the post.
Doctor Kay shuffled his bulk back through the door. He didn’t seem happy about it. The police were last to leave, their posture and their words full of apology. “Do telephone us at the station if you become worried about Matthew. Any time, night or day.”
Debbie’s smile warmed. “Yes, of course. Thank you.”
Car doors were heard to slam and the vehicles drove away down the street, without blue lights.
Debbie walked back to the lounge. Everyone was sat on the couches studying Matthew like a scientific subject. He drummed his irritation at the scrutiny on the brass studs on the arm of the chair again. After an unbearable minute of silence, he launched himself to his feet and glared at them. What was wrong now?
“Where am I to sleep?”
Debbie’s legs lost balance as a nausea swept over her. “In bed with me, of course. Why? Where do you want to sleep?”
Matthew’s mouth fell askew. “I need my own space, thank you. The house looks plenty big enough.”
“Yes. Of course. While you find your feet,” Debbie forced through her abruptly arid throat. She walked briskly from the room. She hoped the others would think she was making up a fresh bed. She might, but the real reason was she had to leave the room.
Her body shook with the distress erupting from her. The hot and cold of Matthew toying with her threatened to break her. How could anyone cope with this? Why was he being so horrible to her?
When she reached their bedroom, she ran over to their four-poster and threw herself on the soft covers. Burying her face in the four duck-down pillows, and confident she wouldn’t be heard, she let out the wail of despair that had begged for release since she’d first walked in to see the stranger in the police cell.
It did her good. Thoroughly spent, she breathed in the feathery softness for a minute before pushing herself up to sitting. Smoothing her jeans with rigid palms from thighs to knees, she let out a deep sigh. It was just going to take time, that’s all. He wanted to stay. That was an improvement to chasing him around Cabot Circus.
Remaking the bed, she left the room and went to the linen cupboard on the enormous galleried landing. Selecting sheets and covers for the spare bed, she made it up not for Matthew, but for herself. Sleeping in their bed would surely be beneficial for him and his struggling memory. And time away for her without the constant reminder that the other side of the bed was filled with her strange husband might prove a comfort too.
When she was done, she strode to the top of the stairs and stalled at the sight of Matthew taking his first step. “Hi,” he said with a smile that may or may not have contained a fleck of warmth. “I’m exhausted. I’d like to turn in, if it’s okay with you?”
Debbie had imagined her husband’s return hundreds of times. In all her musings they’d laughed and chatted through the night; all the times she’d pictured him alive, anyway. “That’s fine. Let me show you where to go.”
When Debbie opened their bedroom door, Matthew objected. “This is your room. I wanted my own space.” His face was the picture of dejection: pouting lips and a deep scowl. Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he turned to leave.
“But all your things are in here. I thought seeing them might jog your memory.”
Matthew paused, patting his belt loop with an anchoring thumb. Wordlessly, he squeezed past Debbie into the bedroom. He strode to the walk-in wardrobe before addressing Debbie again.
“Thank you,” he said with an air of finality. “I’ll be fine now.”
Debbie was torn. “Would you like me to stay? We could have a cuddle.”
Matthew’s eyes blinked this way and that, without looking up, he replied, “Maybe soon, okay? Sorry.”
Debbie allowed the tears to trickle down her cheek. She wanted him to see how he’d hurt her. But she respected his wishes, turned, and walked away. Pausing at the top of the stairs, she took a firm grip of the bannister before descending; she couldn’t trust her wobbly legs to carry her safely by themselves.
Silent stares greeted her as she swayed into the lounge.
“Brandy?” Mandy offered for the hundredth time, like a PR girl at an alcohol exhibition. But this time, Debbie nodded with such ferocity Mandy filled her glass and left the bottle within reach.
Sipping at the fiery smoothness, her eyes pleaded with her in-laws to reassure her; to say something to make it all right.
Shifting uncomfortably in their seats, Mary was the first to speak. “It’s like his GCSE’s all over again.” Raising her eyes to the ceiling, she tut-tutted and shook her head, adding a curve to her lips in her pretence that this was perfectly normal in the world of Matthew Morrissey. “He’ll come round. Best just to ignore him.”
The rage festered in Debbie. She didn’t have the energy to fight, but their unfeeling coldness was unbelievable. “I don’t know how you’re managing to stay so calm,” she managed tactfully, hiding the snideness in her remark.
Mary took it as a compliment. “Well. It will do no good getting hysterical. It was too much sentiment that sent him running in the first place. No. he needs to see how normal everything is. He’ll come round, you see if he doesn’t.”
Seeing her mother’s distress, Abi scurried over and slunk in for a hug. Basking in the closeness and controlling the sharp stab of emotion it dislodged, she stroked Abi’s hair until she was able to speak.
Drawing her face close to her own, she looked deeply into the sparkling blue of her eyes. There was love in there. And pain. She knew exactly why she’d not welcomed her daddy home with welcome arms. She needed to forgive him first.
“Abi, my love, are you not pleased Daddy’s home?”
Abi pulled away and shrugged.
“Are you angry with Daddy, sweetheart?”
She shrugged again. A pout combined with a vicious tangling of her brows to suck the colour from her bright eyes leaving them grey and angry like her own. The storm brewing in Abi would not dissipate with comforting words from her mother, Debbie realised. There needed to be a storm.
Abi was so brave. She’d proved that. Debbie would have to leave her to find her own way through this. “Just so long as you know you can talk to me… about anything.” The storm crackled and fizzed within her but she nodded.
“Charlotte! Shall we play something before bed?” she called out. Meeting Debbie’s eye for approval, it was given readily, grateful that such approval was even being sought. Abi skipped off upstairs like she didn’t have a care.
Chapter Thirty-five
He hadn’t seen her. Stood inside the walk-in wardrobe, he failed to detect the handle turn and the door swing open. Abi stepped in, the tempest in her eyes about ready to strike.
Padding across the floor, her dainty feet made no sound.
“What are you doing?” she demanded loudly.
Her desired response of watching him clutch at his chest and declare she’d made him jump out of his skin failed to happen. Instead, he turned calmly and simply stared without answering, making her wonder if her entrance had been quite so undetected after all.
When
he’d treated her to enough of his unblinking glare, he returned his attention to the hanging clothes. The open leather holdall was already full, but Matthew forced a few more shirts in before squeezing the heavy metal zipper closed.
“Are you leaving?”
Matthew ignored her again.
“Don’t go!” she said, and threw her arms around his legs. Matthew stared down at her. His hand hovered above her silky blonde hair before he returned it to his side without touching her.
Pulling abruptly away, Abi squealed, “You’re not my daddy!” Running from the room, her socked feet skidded on the polished floor at the edge not covered by the long woven runner that stretched the length of the landing. She tripped and fell headlong into the wall, her head bouncing off the plaster with a thud.
Matthew cursed and threw the leather bag down. Rushing to the girl as she lay on the floor, he didn’t know what to do to help her.
With a sudden flash of movement, Abi twisted thrusting clenched fists into the floor, propelling her almost back onto her feet. But not quite.
It happened in slow motion. Her slip-sliding along the edge of the landing. The stairs looming like a cobra ready to strike. Matthew lunged forward, grabbing at her foot as she pitched headlong between the bannister posts. He watched as she disappeared from his view before glancing down at the white sock in his hand.
Scarcely able to move, he forced one foot in front of the other. He had to see what had become of her.
Reaching the top step, Abi was clinging to the newel post, her instinctive grabbing as she fell saved her. Matthew reached down and took her hand. Hauling her slight figure the few steps she’d fallen he seized her up and brushed her off.
“Get away from me,” she said in a hushed whisper. Matthew stood up straight. She was fine, thank goodness. “You’re not my daddy,” she wailed as a balloon of tears blurred her blue eyes. As she scurried away to another door, the other child blinked out at him.
Matthew turned away and answered under his breath. “I never said I was…”
“Everything okay?” Mandy hollered from the hallway. Matthew returned to the top of the stairs and glowered down at her.
“Perfectly fine. Thank you.” And with that, he strode to his room and closed the door with a competent click.
“What happened?” Debbie asked with a slur.
“Nothing much. Matthew wandering around upstairs. He’s back in your room now.”
Debbie nodded and swilled the dribble of amber liquid around the bottom of the glass trying to decide whether to add to it. She drained it. As she watched herself struggle to right it on the table beside her, a spark in her brain just reached her consciousness and told her she’d had enough.
“I’m gonna go up now, too. See you in the morning.” Kissing the tips of her fingers, she blew them to the room as her way of saying goodnight.
Swaying at the foot of the stairs, she held the rail for support. “What a day,” she shushed, and plonked a heavy foot on the first step. Heaving herself to the top, she began to turn to her room. “Naughty, naughty,” she admonished herself before walking to the spare room she’d selected with its view over their back garden.
Stripping to her underwear, she realised she’d forgotten to include a nightie when she’d brought through the sheets. Growling at herself, she hopped into bed and hauled the duvet over her. It was perfectly warm so she removed her bra and knickers.
Making a ‘sheet-angel’ under the covers, the cool of the satin on her skin soothed the day away. “What a day!” she said again. The next time she blinked her eyes tried to open but slammed shut, closing herself away from her burdens.
Dawn had broken and it was a bright day. So bright, Debbie feared she may have slept through to afternoon. Scouring the floor for her discarded clothes, she sniffed at yesterday’s knickers and considered going commando.
With a rueful shake of her head, she tugged them over her legs and tried to forget the face she’d pulled. They were soon covered by her jeans. It would do until she’d had something to eat. She’d shower then, and hopefully she’d be permitted back into her own bedroom!
Trotting downstairs, she selected a bowl and browsed the larder for a cereal she’d like. She opted for a fruity granola and had half a grapefruit to start.
Placing the filled bowl, spoon, milk and grapefruit on a tray, she carried it through to the breakfast room. Pushing open the door with her foot, she gasped, surprised to see Matthew dressed and staring through the window at Clifton Suspension Bridge.
“Good morning. Did you sleep okay?” she asked as she took the seat at the end of the table; not beside him. He didn’t seem any more receptive to closeness than when she’d last seen him.
He nodded and sipped at a black coffee. This was good. If he’d made himself a drink and found his favourite spot with his favourite view, that was a step in the right direction.
She scooped the grapefruit into her mouth and shuddered at its bitterness. She wasn’t sure she even liked them, but there was something in them her body craved. When she’d finished and she could pour the creamy cold milk onto the sugary cereal, she was thankful.
Chewing a fruity mouthful, Matthew interrupted her and stopped her jaw mid-chew.
“What’s this all about?” he said, glancing down in examination of his fingernails; their cracked grubbiness seeming to bother him.
“What do you mean? What’s what all about?”
Matthew sighed and turned to face her. “It’s all very convincing. I did wonder how you knew so much about me, birthdays, where I was born. But now I understand; my father must have told you. I feel foolish because that’s why I agreed to come back with you.”
Debbie still hadn’t chewed and the mouthful of oats was absorbing every drop of moisture in her mouth.
“Everyone seems to be playing their part, but I can’t for the life of me work out why.”
Debbie reddened. She needed to fetch a drink to save herself from the congealing food in her mouth, but her brain had seized in the onslaught of Matthew’s bizarreness.
“Who’s the girl?” he asked, taking another sip of coffee.
Debbie brought her napkin up to her lips and daintily ejected her dry mouthful into in. Replacing it to her lap, she thought it added perfectly to yesterday’s outfit. Fighting back the rage, she coached herself before responding. He’s confused. He’s in the middle of a breakdown. He’s not meaning to be as offensive and ridiculous as he’s being!
“Abi? She’s your daughter. Our daughter.”
Matthew was unnervingly calm. “Are you sure about that? She doesn’t seem so convinced.”
Well who can blame her! I’m not sure who the hell you are either! -she didn’t say. “I’m sure,” she confirmed with a smile. Just stay calm. That’s all you can do. It’s what he needs.
“And the red-head?”
Stemming the irritated sigh aching to leap from her lips, Debbie replied. “That’s Mandy. Your sister. I thought you remembered her? You told the doctor you remembered her.”
“Oh, I do. I remember her very well.” He was making no sense. “So the red-head is Mandy, my sister. And the other woman is Mary, my mother. Right?”
Debbie beamed. He was getting it. “Yes, that’s right.”
“Bullshit!” Matthew screamed and flung his coffee cup at the wall, shards of bone china showered the floor. Throwing back his chair, he stomped to the door and slammed it so hard it rocked the room.
Mandy was yawning and stretching as she entered the kitchen. “Hi Matthew. You okay? What was the noise?”
“Oh, hello, ‘sis’,” he spat in disgust. Pushing past her, he thudded up the stairs.
Chapter Thirty-six
“What on earth has got into him?” Mandy breathed into the breakfast room. Stopping in her tracks, the sharp look on her sister-in-law’s pale face made her scurry round the table and hold her. “It’ll be okay. He’s not well, but this isn’t the real Matthew. With our support, he’ll come through thi
s.” Squeezing tighter as Debbie clung to her, she added, “Don’t upset yourself. He’s home, and he’s healthy—physically. It’ll just take some time,” and maybe some medication, she thought.
Debbie let out the sigh she’d held back for Matthew’s benefit. “You’re right. I know you’re right. But we’ve been through so much. Abi’s illness took us to the edge and we came through. And then this! I’m not sure I can cope, Mandy.” Burying her face in her arms, she collapsed onto the table in front of her, furious sobs shaking the table and echoing woefully around the room.
Dewy eyes stinging, Mandy stroked Debbie’s head. “Come on, Matthew. Sort your shit out,” she breathed silently, vowing to make having a little chat with her brother a priority. They hadn’t always got on, but they’d always had that understanding only siblings could have. She wouldn’t take his crap. Upsetting her like he had poor Debbie was not a likely outcome.
Her stroking of Debbie’s hair became more forceful and Debbie raised her swollen face to wince up at her.
“Sorry, Deb. But he’s made me cross. I’m going to have a talk with my darling brother!”
“Don’t make it worse! Don’t upset him.”
Upset him? He really had got her fearing what he might do, but Mandy had seen it all before, and if anyone could get him out of his big sulk, it was her! Of course, she knew there was more to it, but some home truths would be just what he needed to get him to take responsibility; the first vital step.
Then, she’d be as caring a little sister as you could ever hope to find. She’d make sure he went to appointments; make sure he took medication (if they gave him any) and make sure he bloody well got back to normal as quickly as possible. His little family had gone through quite enough.
Stopping with a fixed smile, she offered coffee and returned to the kitchen to get some thought-aiding sustenance in the form of caffeine and sugar.
Clattering around in the big kitchen helped to disperse a little of the anger she felt towards her brother. That was probably helpful. Whilst she was keen to take a firm hand, she didn’t want to fulfil Debbie’s fears, upset him and make things worse.
Blurred Lines: A box-set of reality bending supernatural fiction (Paranormal Tales from Wales Book 9) Page 20