The Forever Gift

by Brooke Harris

  ‘Don’t stain, don’t stain, don’t stain,’ I mumble as I stare down at the small, burgundy circle of wine sinking into the grooves of the porous tile. ‘No, no, no!’

  I pop the glass down on the table and snatch some paper towel off the shelf. My legs creak, exhausted, as I bend down to dry up the wet patch. I close my eyes as I stand up. I’m afraid to look in case a stubborn red patch stares back it me. Opening my eyes I breath out, relieved to find the tile in mint condition. I pop the paper towel in the bin under the sink. I reach for my glass again and, drinking quite a bit so the glass is empty enough to carry in confidence of no more spills, I make my way into the sitting room to join Charlotte.

  Thirty-One

  Charlotte

  I check my phone on the arm of the couch. There’s still no word from Gavin. Surprise! Surprise! And I can’t help but wonder if he can’t be bothered to text. Or, if reception is terrible, or if he’s chatting to Kayla. But it would be great to hear from him at some point; it’s killing me not knowing what’s happening half the time.

  I’m regretting drinking two glasses of wine so quickly now as a small, frustrated vein in my temple pulsates. I’m surrounded by noise; rain pelts against the glass as the storm grows angrier, there’s still the odd crash of thunder. At least there is no more lightning and we still have power. But it’s just as noisy inside as out. I’m surrounded by snoring. A faint wheeze puffs in and out upstairs as Molly sleeps soundly, and there’s the odd noise overhead every so often, which I recognise as the sound of one of Molly’s giant teddies being shoved out of bed.

  The snoring next to me is more violent and intense. Like the sound of air passing through a narrow tube when there’s a blockage halfway. I’m squashed into one corner of the couch. Heather and I started out on opposite ends but she fell asleep after less than half her glass of wine, and she gradually stretched out and is taking up more than three quarters of the space now.

  It was Heather’s suggestion to watch Friends.

  ‘They’re repeats,’ she said. ‘We spent hours watching them when we were younger and now Kayla and I watch them all the time too.’

  Heather got a bit upset at the mention of her telly time with Kayla so I didn’t bother to ask if the we she was talking about was her and Gavin. Anyway, I don’t have to ask. I already know. I don’t know why I’m so worried about Gavin and Heather, I know it’s ridiculous.

  My fingers hover over the screen on my phone. I want to text Gavin. I want to ask how Kayla is. I want to ask if he’s had dinner. Mostly I want to ask when he’s coming home. I exhale until I’m light-headed and think about the bottle of wine on the shelf in the kitchen. Heather’s glass is sitting on the coffee table. I turn off the TV and pull the throw over Heather, deciding against more wine. I’ll regret it in the morning.

  I’m just about to head up to bed when the doorbell rings. I smile, glad I’ll actually get to see Gavin tonight before I fall asleep.

  I’m taken aback when I find my neighbour and not my husband on the doorstep.

  The man in running gear standing on my step introduces himself as my new neighbour. He moved in a couple of houses down last month with his pregnant wife or girlfriend, but we’ve never actually spoken. I was at a piano lesson with Molly when he came around to introduce himself.

  ‘He said his name was Ben or Sam or Tom. Something with three letters anyway, I can’t quite remember,’ Gavin said. ‘Seems like a nice guy. About our age. And athletic too, big rugby fan.’

  I remember thinking how nice it would be to finally have a neighbour we have something in common with. The rest of the cul-de-sac are older than us; mostly retired couples with grown-up children. But seeing Mr three-letter-name standing on my doorstep at stupid o’clock with wet hair and a weather-beaten red face I’m wondering if Trish has intercepted him and he’s here as her messenger to scold me about the parking situation. He’s clearly walked from somewhere in the storm and I wonder if it’s because Heather’s car is sitting in his spot.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ he says, shivering. ‘It know it’s very late, but I saw the light on in your sitting room and I guessed you might still be up.’

  ‘I’m just on my way to bed,’ I say, closing the door over a little to keep the freezing wind from zipping past me and into the house.

  ‘It’s just I noticed your car window is open and’ – I crane my neck past him to look at my car – ‘I thought you’d want to know.’

  ‘Oh God. I do. I do. Thank you.’

  I grab my keys off the hall table behind me and I’m about to dash outside when my neighbour looks at my bare feet and shakes his head. ‘It’s cats and dogs out here. If you give me the keys, I’ll close it for you.’

  I must look uncertain or scared because he backs off the step and says, ‘Only if it helps. I won’t drive off in it. You know where I live, after all.’

  ‘That would be great. Thank you,’ I say, reaching my arm out into the rain to pass the keys to him.

  He opens the driver’s door, starts the engine and rolls up the window.

  ‘Thank you so much. I’m not normally this distracted.’ I shake my head, mortified.

  ‘One of those days,’ he says, locking the car and passing me back the keys.

  ‘One of those weeks, actually,’ I say.

  ‘No real harm done. But that rain is heavy stuff,’ he says, pointing towards the sky as he returns to the shelter of the doorstep. ‘And it’s been coming down for a while. You might want to put some plastic on that seat before you sit into it next. You’ll get pneumonia otherwise. Should dry out in a day or two though.’

  I glance across the green at Trish’s house. The curtains in an upstairs bedroom twitch and I’ve no doubt my busybody neighbour is peeking out. We’ll be the talk of the estate tomorrow. Of course, Trish will put her spin on it. I can hear her now.

  ‘Poor neighbour had to come to Charlotte’s rescue in the storm when her terrible husband abandoned her. And do you know they have another woman living with them?’

  ‘Oh really,’ some other busybody will reply. ‘I’m not surprised.’

  The twitching curtain steadies and I know Trish has spotted me glaring in her direction.

  His phone rings and I’ve never seen someone drag a phone out of their pocket and press it to their ear so quickly. I look on as he uses a hand gesture to excuse himself and he steps aside on the porch. I wonder if it’s his fiancée checking where he is or maybe it’s a business call. It’s definitely something very serious if the expression on his face is anything to go by. He’s very serious and concerned as he speaks. I wonder if I should mouth a silent goodnight and close the door or wait until he’s finished on the phone to say goodnight properly. It’s all rather awkward. All I want to do is go back inside and go to bed.

  Thirty-Two

  Heather

  A sharp, icy draft shakes me awake. I rub my eyes and sit up. I’ve no idea how long I’ve been asleep, but my head is pounding and I’ve a horrible crick in my neck. Charlotte isn’t here and at first I assume it’s late and she’s gone to bed. But as I wake a little more I hear voices outside and I realise the draft is blowing in from the open front door. I peel the warm throw off me and stand up. I shake it out and drape it over the back of the couch. Charlotte must have put it over me. I’m exhausted and all I want to do is flop into bed but I decide I better clean up first. I pick up the two glasses from the coffee table and drag myself towards the kitchen. I don’t think Charlotte notices me as I pass behind her. I’m barely able to keep my eyes open as I wash and dry the glasses and put them away, hoping I chose the right cupboard.

  Charlotte and the man at the door move to the shelter of the porch as they continue talking. I’m about to make my way upstairs and go to bed when my phone rings. I hurry back into the kitchen and dig around in my handbag, that I’ve left hanging on the back of the chair.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Heather it’s Gavin.’

  ‘Oh. Gavin. Hi,’ I say, the ha
irs on the back of my next standing to attention as I notice the wobble in his voice.

  ‘It’s Kay,’ he says. I can tell he’s holding his breath.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Her temperature is through the roof. The nurses have been in and out like a yo-yo since you left and now they’ve called the doctor. They can’t seem to get it to come down. Even with paracetamol or whatever those little white tablets they give her are.’

  ‘Oh Jesus.’ My chest tightens. ‘Is she awake?’

  ‘Sort of. Yeah,’ Gavin says. ‘She opens her eyes every now and then, but she’s floppy and can’t really talk. I know she’s trying to tell me something. But I don’t know what.’

  ‘I’m on my way. On my way right now. I’ll be there in less than twenty minutes.’

  ‘Okay. Yeah. Okay,’ Gavin’s voice is cracking like a needle scratching a record.

  ‘Gavin calm down,’ I say. ‘Don’t let Kayla know you’re freaking out. Okay?’

  Gavin doesn’t reply.

  I raise my voice. ‘Listen to me. Keep it together. I’m leaving now.’

  There’s still no reply.

  ‘Gavin. Please. Please keep it together. Don’t scare her. I’m begging you.’

  ‘Heather, hurry. Please,’ Gavin finally says.

  Thirty-Three

  Charlotte

  My new neighbour finishes on the phone almost as abruptly as he answered. ‘Sorry. I have to go,’ he says, sliding his phone into his pocket as he turns to face me.

  ‘No worries,’ I say. ‘It’s late. Thanks again for your help. And I’ll be sure to put some plastic down in the car before I sit in.’

  ‘Good. Good.’ He nods.

  ‘Is everything alright?’ I ask, sensing his sudden distress.

  He shakes his head.

  ‘Do you want to come in?’ I ask, hoping he’ll say no, but feeling like I should ask, at least.

  ‘Thank you, but I really must get going. It was lovely to meet you, erm…’

  ‘Charlotte,’ I say, shaking his extended hand. ‘And you too. Great to meet you.’

  ‘Jack,’ he says.

  ‘That’s four letters.’

  ‘Sorry?’ he says, squinting and tilting his head.

  ‘Oh. Erm, Gavin. My husband. He’s terrible with names. He couldn’t remember yours. He insisted you had a three-letter name.’

  ‘Oh right. No worries.’ He straightens up. ‘Well, as I said, I’m Jack. Jack—’

  ‘Jack in-a-hurry,’ I say, as if guessing his surname wins me some sort of prize.

  Jack snorts. ‘Well, Patterson, actually. But everyone who knows me would agree that I’m Jack In-A-Hurry when it comes to work.’

  I nod, familiar with the excuse. Gavin uses it all the time.

  Jack says something more but I’m distracted by rustling behind me and my attention shifts towards the kitchen and I suspect Heather is awake. The rummaging grows louder and closer. I freeze, knowing Heather will burst through the house at any moment and I’ll be forced to explain to yet another neighbour why a woman is living with us.

  I’m relieved when Jack steps out from under the porch light. ‘Good night, Charlotte, it was lovely to meet you. And, I’m sorry to dash—’

  ‘No worries, Jack,’ I say.

  Heather comes skidding into the hall as Jack walks away. Her bag is flung over her shoulder and she’s trying to get her coat on at the same time as stuffing her phone into her bag. Her hands are shaking so much she can’t seem to coordinate them.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I ask. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I- I- I have to go to the hospital.’ Heather finally manages to get her phone into her bag and when she looks up and her eyes meet mine, my heart skips a beat. There’s terror in Heather’s eyes and it reaches out to grab me.

  ‘Now?’ I ask.

  ‘Gavin called,’ Heather says.

  ‘And?’ I say, inhaling sharply.

  ‘It’s Kayla,’ Heather says. ‘Her temperature is through the roof.’

  ‘Oh. Oh God,’ I say, processing, trying desperately to catch up.

  ‘They’ve given her medication,’ Heather continues.

  ‘Well that’s good,’ I say, feeling relief wash over me. ‘She’s probably picked up some sort of bug. You know yourself there’s all sorts going at this time of year. Half of Molly’s class was out sick last week with the vomiting bug. Try not to worry.’

  ‘Try not to worry.’ Heather snorts. ‘Would you worry if it was Molly?’

  ‘Heather I didn’t mean—’

  ‘I have to go,’ Heather cuts across me. ‘I shouldn’t have left.’

  ‘Gavin is with her,’ I say reassuringly. ‘She’s not on her own.’

  Heather’s eyes narrow as she stares at me as if I’m something horrible and sticky on the bottom of her shoe. ‘I should always be with her,’ she says.

  ‘You’re right.’ I nod. ‘You’re her mother. I understand, Heather. I do. If it was Molly—’

  The anger in Heather’s eyes turns to sadness and desperation and my heart breaks for her.

  ‘I- I- I- I have to go,’ Heather stutters, charging past me and out the door.

  ‘Heather, you can’t drive,’ I say, stepping out after her. The icy wind nips at every inch of my skin. ‘You’ve had wine.’

  Heather drags her keys out of her bag. ‘I need to get to the hospital.’

  ‘I’ll call you a cab,’ I say.

  ‘A cab?’ Heather says. ‘How the hell long will that take? I don’t have time. I don’t have any time.’

  ‘Heather, please,’ I say, grabbing her arms, terrified she’ll do something stupid.

  ‘Let go!’ Heather shouts.

  I don’t.

  ‘Heather. Heather is that you?’ Jack says, turning back from halfway out the gate. ‘I thought that was your voice I could hear.’

  ‘Jack, it’s Kayla.’ Heather begins to cry. ‘Something’s wrong. The medicine’s not working.’

  Jack hurries forward placing his hands on Heather’s shoulders, steadying her as I let go. ‘Okay,’ he says calmly. ‘Deep breaths. Big deep breaths.’

  Heather does as Jack suggests.

  ‘That’s it,’ he says. ‘Nice and calm. That’s it.’

  I step back into the doorway and watch with trepidation. Heather and Jack clearly know each other but I’ve no idea how. And now really doesn’t seem like the appropriate time to ask. Heather must clearly trust this guy because she’s calmed down a lot since he’s taken hold of her.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Jack says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. ‘I’ve just got off the phone with them.’

  What? How would he know? I think.

  I’m about to intervene when he continues talking. ‘I’m on call tonight. I’m going in to check on her, but this kind of thing happens all the time, Heather.’

  ‘It does?’ Heather asks.

  ‘Yes. Unfortunately it does. C’mon, I’ll give you a lift.’

  Realisation sweeps over me like a gentle breeze. Gavin never told me our new neighbour was a doctor. And he certainly never mentioned that Jack is Kayla’s doctor. But I guess that’s just another thing to add to a long list of stuff Gavin hasn’t had a chance to discuss with me since Kayla got sick and Heather moved in.

  Heather looks completely lost. ‘Um, Charlotte, this is Kayla’s doctor.’

  ‘Ah,’ I say. ‘Heather, take care, okay? Ring me if you need something.’

  ‘Thanks, Charlotte,’ she says, turning to leave.

  I watch as Heather and Jack walk away and I close the door. Another thunder clap erupts and upstairs I hear Molly.

  ‘Maaammmyyy… Maaammmyyy…’

  ‘I’m coming, Molly. I’m coming,’ I call, as I make my way up the stairs.

  Loud thunder erupts and the whole staircase illuminates as lightning streaks across the sky and shines through the Velux window. Complete darkness follows as the power to the whole street goes out.

  ‘Oh, yo
u have got to be kidding me.’

  I stretch my arms out in front of me, feeling the air all around as I make my way up the remaining steps. I stub my toes on the final one, and by the time I reach Molly’s room she’s stopped crying but I’m ready to start.

  Thirty-Four

  Charlotte

  I really don’t want to light the cinnamon-and-spice candle that I’ve been saving since last Christmas, but the torch on my phone is draining the battery super fast and Molly and I will be in complete darkness soon.

  ‘I won’t be a minute,’ I say, peeling myself away from Molly as the two of us lie, arms around each other in her bed.

  ‘I don’t like the dark,’ Molly says as I stand up.

  ‘I know. I know. Me neither,’ I say, wondering where I last hid the matches; I always keep them out of Molly’s reach. ‘But I’m going to light some candles and then it won’t be dark anymore.’

  ‘I want Daddy,’ Molly says.

  ‘I know sweetheart, so do I. Here, let’s try this,’ I say, pressing the light-up love-heart tummy on Molly’s Glow Bear. It doesn’t have much impact on the dark room, but Molly seems pleased as she gathers the teddy into her arms and cuddles him. ‘I’ll be back in a minute. I just have to find some matches.’

  I hurry down stairs before Molly has time to object.

  ‘Maaammmyyy…’