The Extraordinary Hope of Dawn Brightside

by Jessica Ryn

  The only way is out.

  Chapter 29

  NOW

  Grace

  GRACE’S HEART ACHES FOR Dawn as she sits with her in room six, holding her hand as she finally drops off to sleep. It had been heart-wrenching last night, watching her fall apart when she found out about Shaun’s death. The medication helped to calm her, and it was as if a wall had been dismantled from between them, brick by brick, as Dawn began to open up. The truth seeped through in dribs and drabs to begin with, until the whole, ugly story had come gushing out, drenching the room with Dawn’s buried guilt. Her fear. Her longing. She’d showed Grace the photo album filled with pictures of Rosie, still intermittently believing they were all real. Grace had known the first one on the front page was really Rosie. It had made her ache all over just to see her scrunched up blue eyes as they peered at the camera.

  ‘I can’t believe you had to go through that all on your own,’ Grace had said as she squeezed her hand.

  ‘I just needed someone to help me. Mel was great, but she couldn’t stick around forever, especially when she was offered work abroad. She wouldn’t have been able to contact me after I left the psych unit, anyway. My other friends were busy with their own lives. Maybe if Mum hadn’t died or my dad had stuck around, I’d have been okay, and Rosie would still be with me.’ Dawn had dissolved into a fresh portion of tears which Grace did her best to wipe away with the ever-dwindling box of tissues by her bed.

  ‘Do you know where Mel and your dad might be now?’

  ‘Mel’s still living overseas, according to Facebook. I sent her a friend request, but I don’t think she’s seen it. Maybe there’s no internet where she is.’

  ‘And your dad?’ Grace gently pushed, wondering if she was going too far. Dawn was clearly still so fragile.

  ‘I haven’t seen him since I was ten years old. Dad was my whole world, and he just upped and left overnight. Mum said he met someone else. I always told myself I didn’t need him after that.’ Dawn let go of Grace’s hand and pulled the duvet cover up over herself.

  ‘And now?’

  ‘I think I’d like to find him. He’s the only family I have, apart from Rosie.’

  Grace had watched as Dawn’s exhausted eyes fluttered shut. She’d whispered goodnight and straightened the duvet but couldn’t bring herself to leave her side for over an hour.

  There is one more thing Grace needs to speak to her about, but it requires gentle steps. Following Dawn’s outpouring of her story, Grace had done an internet search whilst Cara sat with Dawn. She’d searched for news stories from where Dawn had lived at the time that it happened. The search had thrown up an article saying that there had been several reports of a man spiking women’s drinks in the area – he had been arrested, convicted and jailed for nine counts of rape and many more of assault. There was a photograph below the article of the man – and he had red hair.

  After perching on the hard chair beside Dawn’s bed for half the night, Grace feels like a spring that’s been stretched and then dropped, only her coils haven’t quite returned to the correct shape.

  Sunlight filters through the curtains and the birds are making a racket, chirping at each other outside the window. It’s five in the morning, too late to bother getting ready for bed.

  Grace creeps downstairs and lets herself into the office, leaving the shutters down. She flicks on the kettle and makes a coffee with two heaped spoonfuls of Azera and sits in the quiet, thinking about Dawn. Half a lifetime of loss and missing a part of herself, never knowing where her daughter was or whether she was safe. No wonder she was always inventing stories about what Rosie was up to; she must have been wondering about it almost every waking minute of her day.

  Grace will look into ways of tracking down Dawn’s dad. In the meantime, Dawn’s going to need all the support available and all the services they can wangle in to help. Which probably isn’t many, the way all these funding cuts are going. What the hell will happen to her if St Jude’s closes down? Grace feels sick just thinking about it. Dawn has done nothing but look out for everyone else since she got there. Who would be there for her if she’s turfed back out onto soggy cardboard? Dawn would still find something to care for, even then. She’d probably invite a pigeon into her sleeping bag and give it her last slice of bread.

  ‘Life is short, Grace,’ she’d said to her an hour ago after spewing out her whole, sad story. ‘Don’t let go of anyone or anything that makes you happy.’

  The words keep replaying in her head along with the image of Jack’s face. His smiling one, complete with the signature dimple, and his hurt one when Grace had told him he was just a job to her and nothing more. She would give anything to take those words back.

  She puts the computer to sleep and closes her eyes. She takes some cleansing breaths and reaches for a phone. If there’s ever a good time for a six-minute meditation it would be now.

  ‘Grace?’

  She hears the soft whisper from the other side of the door before she hears the muffled knock. Her heart flips around a few degrees in her chest at the sound of his voice and she immediately feels guilty for her excitement after spending the last few hours processing heartache that belongs to someone else. She lets him in, willing him to throw his arms around her as the door clicks shut behind him.

  ‘It’s okay, I know you’re not allowed to discuss Dawn with me,’ Jack says, as he wipes the tear from her face with his little finger. ‘But if it helps, I already know. Cara told me everything.’

  Cara had been in and out of Dawn’s room that night too, they’d been tag-teaming it. Grace can’t be sure how coherent Dawn had been when she wasn’t in the room, or how much she’d shared with Cara, but it’s comforting to know that she’s not carrying all of that information on her own.

  ‘Thank you,’ Grace whispers, stepping against him and resting her face against his chest, the warmth of his jumper cushioning her cheek.

  He holds her quietly as she stares out of the window, seeing nothing but the reflection of the two of them in the glass.

  Grace moves her head upwards, brushing her forehead against his chin, still not ready to meet his eyes. ‘How did you know I was in here this early?’

  ‘I heard your footsteps and the office door slamming shut. I couldn’t sleep either. Stuff on my mind,’ he adds casually.

  ‘It just makes you think, when you hear stories like Dawn’s,’ she murmurs. ‘It makes you think about how short life really is; how rare it is to find happiness alongside people you can trust.’

  Jack’s shoulders stiffen. ‘I know my past isn’t squeaky clean,’ he says, pulling away from her a few inches. ‘And I’m not expecting you to trust me right away, not with all the backstory you have on me, hidden away in that filing cabinet.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’ Grace places his forearms around her waist, pulling him back to her. ‘And I do trust you, it’s just all so complicated.’

  Jack sits down on the swivel chair beside them and Grace perches on his knee, keeping her arms around his shoulders. She leans against him and closes her eyes, mentally placing the heartbreak of others on the desk beside her, just for a little while, knowing it will soon be there for her to pick back up on her way out again.

  They sit like that for a long time, Grace dozing on and off until the alarm buzzes on her phone.

  ‘We have half an hour before Peter arrives and I’m not sure you should be alone in the office with me when he gets here.’

  ‘Hmm. Probably won’t look too good for you to be found attached to an inmate,’ Jack says lightly as he pulls his shoes on a little too hard.

  ‘Don’t say that. That’s not how I see you.’

  ‘How do you see me then?’ he says, tying up his lace before turning his pale blue eyes towards Grace, his voice still even, his face just inches from hers.

  The front door outside the office makes its unmistakable sound. The bleep from Peter’s fob.

  ‘He’s early,’ Grace hisses as she scrabble
s to her feet, picking things up and frantically straightening the paperwork on the desk.

  Jack flies out of the door and accosts Peter before he can put his key in the office lock.

  ‘Just been trying to get Grace to help me with my budgeting sheet,’ Grace hears him say. ‘But she’s been up all night with another resident. She asked me to come to you instead.’

  Grace wheels the office chair into its rightful position, plastering on a smile and swinging the door open to display it before remembering she hadn’t yet brushed her hair or cleaned her teeth.

  ‘Rough night, then,’ says Peter. It’s not a question, he’d been there when Dawn had begun to spiral out of control.

  ‘You could say that. Let’s just say, I’m glad you’re here.’

  ‘Bloody hell. Never thought I’d hear you say that,’ Peter grins. His face looks so different when he does that. ‘Seriously though, I know you’d have done great. Good thing she had you to help her through the night.’

  Grace blinks away her surprise. Did Peter just imply that she’s good at her job?

  ‘I’ll help you around lunchtime-ish if that’s okay?’ Peter turns to face Jack. ‘Grace needs to get off home soon and get some rest, so I’ll be lone-working this morning.’

  Jack nods and gives Grace a sad smile whilst Peter’s not looking before disappearing from the corridor and from her sight.

  ‘I can’t leave you,’ she says to Peter. ‘Not with things as they are with Dawn. She’s a loose cannon right now and I’m not sure how long it will take for those new meds to work.’

  ‘I’ll be fine.’ Peter throws her a reassuring smile, lightly gripping her shoulder. ‘She has people from the community mental health team popping round in an hour and I’m sure Cara will sit with her.’

  ‘Let me go and see her first, see how she is and say goodbye for the day,’ Grace says, acquiescing.

  Dawn is lying on her side, on top of her duvet. Her glassy eyes face the door as Grace enters through it. For a split second, her stomach lurches as she thinks the worst, but then Dawn stirs.

  ‘Thank you for listening last night,’ she whispers. ‘And I’m sorry if I… misled you. About Rosie.’ A tear escapes and plummets down her cheek, taking Grace’s heart with it. ‘I feel so stupid. And I’ve wasted all this time – time you could have spent on somebody else. Someone who deserves it. I don’t expect you to believe me about what happened with my baby after all the other stories I’ve told you, but I’ll always remember that you listened. All of you. And I’ll pack my stuff as soon as I can, I might just need to borrow a few bags for life. I’ve got quite a bit more baggage than I did before…’

  Grace’s mouth twitches as she reaches for Dawn’s shoulder, although she’s not sure if it’s because she wants to laugh or weep.

  ‘Don’t ever say sorry. No one on earth should have to go through what you’ve been through and there is nothing I can say to make it any better. Of course we believe you, all of us do. Every word. All I can promise you is that I’m here, you are not going anywhere, and no one deserves support more than you do. You don’t have to deal with this on your own anymore.’

  Dawn begins to sob and her body sags against Grace as she folds her arms around her. St Jude’s has to stay open. It has to. Even if Grace has to chain herself to the desk.

  ‘I’m here,’ Grace continues. ‘And Peter’s here, Cara…’

  ‘And Shaun,’ she adds, swallowing hard.

  Shit.

  ‘Dawn, do you remember what we talked about last night? About Shaun?’

  Silence.

  ‘I remember,’ Dawn says eventually. ‘I just don’t think I believe it. It doesn’t feel right that he’s gone.’

  Chapter 30

  Dawn

  ‘COME ON, DAWN, YOU need to get out of that stinking bed now. We need you,’ Cara says, sharpness leaking from her voice.

  Dawn sits up and stretches her arms. They feel stiff after three days of being in bed. Taking new medication and letting out twenty years’ worth of tears had ensured that she slept for thirty-six hours straight. Her body may be weak, but her mind feels lighter.

  ‘She’s not wrong about us needing you,’ adds Teardrop Terry as he sits gingerly on the other side of the bed, looking around as if he’s not sure if he’s allowed to. ‘The café’s been manic. Sorry. Poor choice of words. It’s been hectic,’ he amends with a blush. ‘Cara’s been rushed off her feet and she’s been a right stroppy mare. Though I suppose there’s no change there really.’

  ‘Oi!’ says Cara right before punching him in the torso. ‘It’s not just the café. We need to get on with the fundraising but it’s not the same without you. No one else has your “oomph”. I tried my best to ramp people up but apparently I’m too aggressive.’

  Something about having Teardrop Terry and Cara in her room makes Dawn want to spring out of bed.

  Or at least sit up and crack open a window.

  As she props herself up against her headboard, their words begin to sink in. She’d known they’d be kind for a little while – she’d been ill and they’re good people. But surely then they’d want her to leave? Now they know she’d lied about Rosie and that she’d given her up? But they’re making it sound almost like…

  Like they still need her.

  ‘What have people been saying about all… this?’ Dawn asks quietly, pointing in her own vague direction. ‘Does everyone know?’

  ‘The staff wouldn’t be allowed to talk to us about stuff like that,’ Terry says, scratching his chin. ‘Confidentiality. You know how it is here. But we know the bits and pieces you’ve told us and we’re not going anywhere.’

  ‘I feel like such an idiot.’ Dawn pinches the corners of her duvet cover and bunches them tightly into her fists. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever be able to face everyone.’

  ‘At least you’re opening your mouth and stringing sentences together today though,’ says Cara with her usual lack of tact. ‘So, there’s that.’

  Dawn lets go of the duvet, sits up straight and steadies herself on Cara’s bony arm before swinging her legs around until her feet graze the laminate. She looks at the wardrobe and then at the bathroom door, calculating the effort she would need in order to walk to each of them, have a shower and get dressed.

  ‘I’ll help you pick some clothes out,’ says Cara, more animated than Dawn had seen her for weeks.

  ‘I’ll take that as my cue to leave,’ says Terry. He gets up and grabs Dawn gently by the elbow as he walks past her. He whispers in her ear, ‘It’s good to see you making your way back to us, love. You’ll get there. I know you will. We all do.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she says through a strangled throat as tears sting the backs of her eyelids. She’d often wondered over the past few years – well, twenty-two, to be exact – what it would feel like to have a family again. People in her corner. People who believe her and understand. Turns out it feels pretty bloody great.

  Cara turns the shower on, pushes Dawn into the bathroom and proceeds to prattle on about gossip from the café customers as well as keeping her up to speed about what’s been going on with the other residents.

  ‘I bought you something to cheer you up,’ Cara grins. She picks up a folded T-shirt from the top of Dawn’s chest of drawers and shakes it out so that Dawn can see it. It says: I went to Dover and all I bought was this crappy T-shirt.

  ‘Oh, Cara.’ Dawn thought she couldn’t possibly have any tears left after the past few days. Turns out she was wrong. Dawn hasn’t been given a present from anyone since before Rob had left.

  ‘I’ll treasure it forever.’

  Cara chuckles. ‘Don’t get all sentimental, it was only £4.99 from the market. Thought you’d like it since you like Dover so much.’

  ‘It’s a special place.’ Dawn wanders into the bathroom and allows the less-than-satisfactory warm water from the shower to trickle over her body with lacklustre force. It still feels amazing though, and it’s nice to have her hair sticking to her sc
alp because it’s wet and not because it’s thick with grease.

  Dawn finally steps out of the bathroom and wriggles into some leggings and her new T-shirt. Cara is still sitting on her chair, flicking through a magazine. She’s about to thank her for her kick up the bum and ask her how Curtis and Kyle are doing. But then she throws her a sentence that sends everything toppling right back down again.

  ‘We need to talk about Shaun,’ she says.

  Dawn starts gathering up all of her discarded clothes from the floor, folding them up and putting them in her drawers, slamming them closed loudly each time, only to open them again seconds later to shove the next item in.

  ‘Dawn…’

  ‘What?’ she explodes, pulling the drawer open so hard that it comes off its runners and lands hard on her little toe.

  Cara crouches next to Dawn, pulling the drawer from her grasp. Now her hands are empty, she links them into her own and shuffles forward until she’s cross-legged in front of Dawn, her pointed face only inches away.

  ‘You need to sit here, open your ears and friggin’ listen. A few weeks ago, I was lower than a badger’s arsehole. I’d fallen right off the wagon and I’d ballsed up my kids’ meeting. You know what I wanted to do? Give up. Go back to my needles and my burned spoons. You know why I didn’t? Because of you. Because I had a mate. A real one, for once in my stinkin’ life. You made me carry on, you made me see what’s important. And now it’s payback time.’

  ‘Wow. I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say in one go,’ Dawn grins. It almost hurts, and she realises it’s a shape she hasn’t made her mouth try to make for a long time. ‘But the dodgy methadone and the messed-up meeting was my fault. I don’t see how I was any help, it was me who got it for you.’

  ‘You weren’t to know. And you tried. That helped. Trust me.’ Cara stands up straight. ‘Now you need to help yourself. Face your own shit. Speak out loud about what happened to Shaun.’