It turned out Alfie wasn’t always so lucky.
‘ROSS, NO!’
He sat bolt upright in bed. Sweat had drenched his T-shirt, and his heart was pounding so fast he could barely distinguish one beat from another.
The ward appeared to be empty. None of the nurses were going to be checking in on him tonight, and neither was Mr Peterson, it seemed; he could hear his snores ringing out above the humming of the machines. Maybe everyone had become immune to his cries now; he’d become just another background noise in the soundtrack of the Moira Gladstone ward. How could everything around him continue as normal when Alfie’s world felt like it had been tipped upside down?
Alone in the darkness, he let his heart slow and his breathing grow deeper. Then he heard it.
‘Who are they?’
25
Alice
‘Sorry. I didn’t wake you up, did I?’ He sounded groggy, as though he was coming round from a thick hangover or a punch in the face.
How anyone could sleep through that noise was beyond her. This time the cries had felt more panicked and piercing than ever before.
‘No, don’t worry, I was already awake,’ she lied.
What the hell had she been thinking, asking him that?
Thankfully he’d ignored her question and changed the subject. She wasn’t sure if he’d done it knowingly, but she wasn’t willing to force the issue.
‘OK. Good. That’s good.’
Every word sounded like a huge effort for him. She closed her eyes and tried to fall back asleep, but everything around her seemed ten times louder than before.
The sound of her breathing.
The sound of his breathing.
Restless rustling of starched bed sheets.
Heart pounding on her side.
‘They were in the car accident with me.’ He paused, as if uncertain whether to continue. ‘Ciarán and Ross. Two of my best friends. They died. I survived.’
Her cheeks burned as her face flushed with embarrassment.
‘I’m so sorry, Alfie, I should never even have asked. I just—’
‘Hey, stop that. You have a right to know who I wake you up moaning about every night.’
‘I mean … it’s not every night!’
He attempted a laugh. For some reason she felt the urge to know more, but she stayed quiet. It wasn’t her place to ask, and she’d already let her curiosity get the better of her once tonight. If he wanted to tell her more, he would.
‘I think I’ve been kidding myself that the flashbacks are getting better. There have been times when they’ve become less intense and less frequent, but then they always come back. They’re so real. So real it’s like I’m there all over again, Alice.’
The way he said her name caught in her chest, and she was filled with a rush of affection.
‘Have you spoken to … anyone about them?’
She was trying to tread carefully here.
‘By anyone, you mean a psychiatrist, right?’
She cringed at her lack of subtlety.
‘For someone that doesn’t say much, you’re very tactful when you want to be.’
‘Eurgh, I’m sorry.’
‘It’s fine. And in answer to your very generic but specific question, yes and no. I mean, people here obviously know – the nurses do the obligatory “Are you OK?” every time they happen, plus Sharon has the hearing of a bat so there’s no fooling her. I spoke to the doctors about it briefly when they put me on antidepressants, and I’ve mentioned it in passing to my mum. But no, I haven’t spoken to anyone about them properly. People have tried to encourage me to, but they’re bad enough to experience when I’m asleep, let alone recounting them to a stranger.’
Another stab of guilt. If Alice had been able to remember being in her accident, if she was repeatedly taken back to the time when she was almost burnt alive, then she was sure she wouldn’t want to be regaling an audience with the tale either.
This is why you don’t have more than one goddam friend any more: because you have the emotional capacity of a piece of wood.
‘I’m sorry, it’s none of my business. I didn’t even think.’
‘No, it’s fine. Unless you say sorry again and then it will be anything but fine, OK? I’ve kind of wanted to talk to you about it since the first night you pretended not to be woken up by me. You may be many things, but you are no actress.’
‘Oh, well, fuck you. I happen to have had a budding theatrical career before the whole face melting thing happened.’
‘I don’t think it’s the face melting, as you so beautifully put it, that would be the stumbling block – more like your insane stubbornness. There is no one on this earth who would be capable of giving you direction.’
She couldn’t argue with him. Digging her heels in and sticking to her guns was just what she did.
‘I’ll give you that one, but only because challenging you would confirm your accusation.’
‘You really are something else, Alice. I don’t quite know what yet, but you’re definitely something. Give me time, I’ll work you out sooner or later.’
The affection that had been sitting in her chest surged again, but this time she felt like his eyes were on her. It was suddenly too intimate, way too personal, and she had to deflect.
‘So … do you want to talk about them? The dreams, I mean.’
She heard him rearranging himself in bed and imagined him sitting up a little straighter.
‘Most of the time it’s exactly the same: I just relive the accident. I literally go through everything that happened that night, over and over again. Sometimes there are differences, small nuances that change, but mostly it’s a detailed replay.’
She was so scared of saying the wrong thing or pushing too hard. Every word felt like a precarious step on a very thin tightrope.
‘Do you mind me asking what happened?’
She’d allowed her curiosity to get the better of her again.
Silence.
God, this is excruciating.
She had to fill the gap quickly. ‘You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.’
No wonder Alfie used to just talk at her all the time. Filling the space with something felt much better than just sitting in the silent vacuum.
‘I do want to. I really do. I guess it’s just harder than I thought.’
He took a deep breath and then started his story.
26
Alfie
For so long he’d wanted to find someone he could open up to. Someone he could talk to without feeling uncomfortable or awkward. Now, at last, someone was asking and he couldn’t find one single word to answer. The doctors had always put him on edge. He couldn’t work out if they found the act of witnessing his grief awkward, or whether they were immune to the pain after hearing thousands of similar stories, but either way he found talking to them impossible. There was no eye contact, just endless scribbled notes and the occasional ‘How did that make you feel?’
So, like them, he’d simply shut down. The regular mental health support sessions continued, but the degree to which Alfie opened up grew smaller and smaller over time. In their minds, the flashbacks had subsided and therefore no more questions were asked. In reality, they were simply being buried deeper and deeper into the recesses of his mind.
As he lay there searching in the dark for a starting point, it struck him how vulnerable he felt, even though Alice couldn’t see him.
‘We’d been at a friend’s wedding just outside London. We thought we’d be clever and save money by driving home that night – it made sense as we were only a couple of hours away. Ciarán knew he was driving so he didn’t drink.’
The pain throbbed at the back of his throat.
‘He would never do that to us. Ever.’
The words came out more forcefully than he intended but she had to know the type of guy Ciarán was. He took a deep breath and let the anger subside.
‘I was so tired I was pretty muc
h asleep the moment I got in the back of the car. I remember waking up to the two idiots arguing over what song to play next. Ross was insisting on Ariana Grande for the fifteenth time – it was his new girlfriend’s favourite song, apparently – and Ciarán just kept switching the track back. “It’s my phone,” Ciarán kept saying. “But it’s my turn to choose,” Ross kept whining. They were going at each other like this for ages, back and forth, over and over. I couldn’t be bothered to deal with them because I knew this would go on for the rest of the journey. They are – were – both stubborn bastards.’
Past tense, Alfie.
‘I reached forward and took the phone off them. They both looked round to try and grab it back. It was my fault: I took the phone so no one was looking at the road; it was such a brief moment but he didn’t see it coming. He didn’t see it coming because I’d distracted him.’
His words were falling out of his mouth so quickly he couldn’t catch his breath. The guilt that had been building up inside him was forcing its way out.
‘Some drunk arsehole a few cars up had swerved into the wrong lane and thrown a lorry off course. It came right at us and no one fucking saw it. All I remember is feeling the weight of everything hitting me all at once. It was like someone was ripping me inside out. There was so much pain I couldn’t work out where or who I was any more.’
He paused. His hands were clutching the bed sheets so tightly he could see the whites of his knuckles glowing in the dark.
‘They say I was thrown five metres from the car. That’s where the dreams always start. Me waking up, face down on the road with a knife in my stomach telling me something is very wrong. Then I look up and I see it. The car. It’s crumpled like it’s nothing more than paper. There’s smoke everywhere. I can hear screaming. I’m trying to find the others and then I see Ross’s face. He’s still in the goddam car. It’s like I’m so close, but every time I try and drag myself towards him he just gets further and further away. I’m screaming for him, begging him to get out of the car. But it’s like someone’s muted me or turned the volume up so loud on everyone else that my words just disappear into nothing. And then. Fuck. Then it burns. The heat is hitting my face but I don’t care because I just want to go in there and get him out. But someone’s grabbing me, trying to pull me away, and I can feel their hands gripping me so tightly, but the harder they hold me, the more I’m pushing them away. I try to get up and walk but I can’t. My leg is a dead weight underneath me, useless. Every time I push myself up enough to try and stand, the pain grabs hold of me and it becomes too much so that I almost black out again. I’m stuck. I’m stuck, unable to save my friend, who is so fucking close to me. I can’t think or feel anything but rage, as if I’m on fire too. And then out of the corner of my eye I see Ciarán. I see him just lying there. He’s so broken. Just a heap of human mass left on the road. But it’s Ciarán. I know it’s Ciarán. I start screaming for him, pleading for him to wake up. But he just stays so still. I need him to wake up. Why isn’t he waking up? We need to go and get Ross. I’m so mad at him for just lying there, and I’m so scared I want to hold him, but there’s more people pulling me away and I can’t fight them off any longer. I want to hold on so badly. I can’t leave them. I can’t fucking leave them there.’
When the tears started, they hit him with such force he could barely keep himself upright.
Suddenly he saw her hand come through for him. He was too scared to reach out and grab it, so certain that if he released his grip from his bed sheets he would fall and never come back.
‘Alfie, I’m here. Take my hand.’
He didn’t need to see her to know there was no pity, no awkwardness or repulsion. She would hold him. She would anchor him. He held her hand and she squeezed him tightly.
‘I woke up in hospital, adamant they would be just a couple of beds away from me. I wouldn’t believe them when they told me. It was only when I saw the look on my mum’s face that I knew they were really gone. I didn’t even care that they took my leg. They could have taken all of me. I just needed to not be the only one to survive. Seeing the resentment in their families’ faces became unbearable. They loved me like a son but wanted me to be the one they were grieving for. I suppose that in the end, the only way I could get through it was to bury it. Shut all the pain off. But the truth is that sometimes I wish I was the one they put in the ground.’
They held hands as if it was all they could do to keep on breathing; he couldn’t tell who was holding on more tightly. Tears from both of them ran down their arms to meet in the middle.
The silence unfolded around them, bringing with it a sense of peace. Alfie could feel the tightness in his chest melt away as his breathing grew deeper and more measured. He had survived the storm and someone was next to him, picking him up from the rubble.
‘I know what it’s like to be the one they want dead,’ she whispered.
The moment he felt he was back on solid ground, it shifted beneath him again.
27
Alice
It was such a powerful feeling, holding someone. Being there for someone. Being wanted by someone. Had she got so caught up in the magic of the moment that she’d let a part of her escape in the hope of being held too? Shame coursed through her body, and even though she knew he couldn’t see her, she found herself letting go and burying her head in her hands.
Why the hell had she said that?
She was about to start apologizing for making it all about her when she heard his voice break the silence.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ His hand was still outstretched on her side of the curtain.
‘I don’t even know why I said it. This was your time to talk about stuff. I just … I wanted you to know that you’re not alone in the way you feel.’
‘No, I’m done with talking. There’s only so much I can relive in one night. I’m all ears if you want to tell me your story.’
‘There’s not that much to tell.’
‘Really? You’re telling me a story that starts with “I know what it’s like to be the one they want dead” doesn’t have much to it? Come on!’ He was laughing. She imagined him shaking his head and rolling his eyes at her.
‘I set that one up fairly dramatically, didn’t I?’ She snorted. His laugh really was infectious. ‘I’ve never spoken to anyone about it properly before, so I’m not even sure where to start.’
‘You can start anywhere or nowhere. It’s totally up to you.’
He was right. It was up to her. She could tell as much or as little as she wanted. At the end of the day it wasn’t really for him. She was telling the story for herself.
Twenty years was a long time to carry around something as heavy as this; maybe it was time to let go of some of the pain.
She closed her eyes and took his hand again.
‘I was born a twin. My brother Euan was four minutes older than me. He was so full of life that I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d actually had half my head out before he hauled me back into the womb and pushed himself out first. You couldn’t stop him doing what he wanted and you were a fool if you tried. There was such a fire in him that you could feel the heat just by looking at his face. He was a whirlwind and shook up everything in his path, except for me. It was as if he held those four minutes like a gift. He was my big brother, and he took it upon himself to protect me as though his life depended on it.’ She paused as a suffocating lump rose in her throat. This was why she always stopped herself from thinking about him.
‘He sounds like he was more stubborn than you … and that is an incredible feat!’
Alfie squeezed her hand reassuringly.
‘He was. He was brilliant. The best.’ She paused again, allowing the space to hold her in her thoughts. ‘But in reality he was the one that needed looking after. He was born with a congenital heart defect – it’s not uncommon in twins. Sharing the same placenta, there is always a risk that one baby doesn’t receive as much oxygen as the other. Unfortunately, I took the lio
n’s share and left him without.’
The guilt surged through her heart and hot tears pricked her eyes.
Another squeeze. Go on, don’t stop now, it said.
‘We had a relatively normal childhood. Euan was determined that his condition wouldn’t get in the way of anything. He didn’t seem to have a care in the world. Maybe we all carried the fear for him. My parents were strict with him and even stricter with me. I had to look out for him at all times. Make sure he was OK. Any time we were out of the house and away from them, he was my responsibility. I would have done anything for him. I loved him with every cell of me. He was a part of me.’
She took a deep breath. She knew she was waffling, buying any semblance of time she could before she had to tell the real story.
‘We were eleven years old when it happened. It was a Saturday in late October and the weather was turning. We’d begged our parents to let us go and play outside for the afternoon; by the cliffs was our favourite spot. I knew he was feeling restless that day. He had been trying to push boundaries, seeing how far he could stretch our parents’ rules and his limits. As we got to the edge, he began to run. I screamed after him to stop but he kept going. I can see him now, like a caged wild animal that had finally been set free. He was laughing manically, throwing his head to the sky in pure joy. He ran and ran all the way down to the beach. I followed him as quickly as I could, but he was so fast.’
She could feel herself speeding up as she spoke, almost as though she couldn’t wait to spit the story out and be done with it. The toxicity was sour and she no longer wanted the taste of it on her tongue.
‘By the time I reached him, he was already in. He’d taken off his clothes and run into the sea. I screamed so loudly my throat burned. In the end I had to run in after him and drag him out. He kicked and screamed and clawed at me, shouting over and over how unfair his life was. I held him so tightly, both of us crying with the pain of it all. He begged me not to tell Mum and Dad what he’d done. He knew we’d both be in trouble. And for some stupid, stupid reason I didn’t.’ She shook her head in frustration. ‘When we got back I sneaked him into the house, made him have a warm bath and sent him to bed. I told my parents he was tired from running and everything seemed fine the next morning. By the evening things were bad. He was sweating. Drenching the bed sheets and his pyjamas, but when I put my hand on his head he was like ice. I told him over and over that it was going to be OK, but I knew everyone was scared. My parents were so confused as to how he’d got so sick so quickly. He pleaded with me not to tell them, but I had to. I had to do something.’
Before I Saw You Page 10