by Dan Scottow
The noise. The nausea. The spinning.
It’s all too much.
Even in the black, her eyes shut tight, she feels like she is swaying back and forth. The bed is rocking. Will she fall onto the floor? Is the floor even there anymore?
Where.
Is.
She?
All the surrounding sounds seem to swirl into one. The twitter of a starling. The gentle lapping of the waves from the loch on the pebbles of the shoreline. The wind rustling through the trees. A wasp trapped in the window, trying desperately to escape.
All distinctly separate, yet somehow all the same. They grow louder, then dissipate. Over and over.
‘Shut up!’ Diana screams.
‘Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!’
She clutches her hands to her ears, and suddenly everything is silent, apart from a high-pitched ringing. She feels like she is falling deep down into a rabbit hole, spiralling down further and further under the ground. She’s getting smaller as she tumbles, shrinking, like Alice in Wonderland.
Until she is the size of a flea.
Tiny, insignificant.
Her eyes flick open and she sees a face before her, staring down from above the bed.
As her eyelids slide closed, the vision swirls around in a spiral, and the world seems to stop as a sudden tiredness washes over her, and she drifts away out of consciousness.
18
Diana
The smell of bacon cooking fills the house, making Diana want to vomit. Her eyelids lift slowly. She squints from the bright morning sunlight that streams in through the open curtains.
She sits up and a throbbing in her head like she has never felt before makes her feel nauseous.
Her mind is foggy. Her entire body aches.
Glancing around the room, everything seems normal. Yet she has an overwhelming feeling that something is wrong.
She reaches to the side of her bed for her stick, but it’s not there. She looks about but can’t see it. Shuffling to the edge, she is surprised to realise she is in her nightgown. She pulls herself up on the bedside table and supports her weight against the wall. Crouching, she lifts the valance up, staring beneath. The cane isn’t there. She stands, frowning, and edges round to the door, holding down waves of sickness as she moves. Her vision is blurry, the light exacerbates the throbbing in her brain. As she opens the bedroom door, the smell of cooking grows stronger. She can hear it sizzling from the kitchen. Lucy is humming a tune, as usual. At first Diana had found it endearing. Now it is beginning to irritate her. The melody is something familiar, but her mind isn’t working properly. She can’t place it. She shakes her head, calling out.
‘Lucy!’
The humming stops. The girl appears at the end of the hallway, a broad smile on her face, cheeks rosy from the heat of the hob, hair tied up in a loose bun.
‘Diana, good morning! How are you feeling today?’
‘I can’t find my cane. Do you know where it is?’ she asks in a slur; she suspects she may still be drunk. Lucy cocks her head to one side.
‘No, sorry. Did you bring it in last night when you came inside?’
‘Yes… I… well, I think I did. I’m sure I must have.’
‘Hold on, I’ll check.’
Lucy rushes away, leaving Diana supporting herself against the door frame. She clings to the wood with all her strength, knuckles turning white as her fingernails dig into the grain. Her legs feel like jelly, and she thinks today she may need to avoid alcohol. But she has thought that many times before.
After a moment Lucy comes back through from the kitchen holding the cane.
‘You left it in the garden,’ she says, handing it to her.
Diana frowns, shaking her head slightly.
‘I did? But… that’s…’
She searches her memory, but the end of the evening is a blur. She leans her weight onto the top of the stick, letting out a deep breath. Was she so drunk that she returned to her bedroom unaided? She didn’t see how that was possible. She can manage without it, but this is a long way; her leg has been giving her such trouble lately. It seems unlikely. They do say that drink is a wonderful pain killer, but even so…
Her thigh throbs, and she considers that perhaps this might have been the case after all.
‘Would you like some breakfast?’
Diana nods, although in truth she isn’t sure if she will be able to keep anything down.
‘Go and sit and I’ll bring some through to you. Richard is at the table already.’
As she makes her way into the living room, Lucy returns to the kitchen. Diana passes her husband, stroking the top of his shoulder with her fingertips. She takes her usual seat at the end, opposite him. Lucy breezes in, carrying two dishes, placing one in front of Diana. She sits beside Richard and begins trying to spoon the liquidised food into his mouth.
Diana eyes her plate, holding a hand to her mouth. She watches as Lucy attempts to feed her husband. The mixture is spilling down his chin.
‘He can be stubborn, but you just need to persevere,’ Diana says softly, smiling. Lucy returns the smile from across the table.
‘He’s had a little. But I don’t think he wants any more. He didn’t eat much yesterday either. Does he usually have a good appetite?’
Diana shrugs. ‘There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to anything he does. I sometimes wonder if it’s involuntary… his jaw locking up or something. I struggle to feed him too. The doctor has offered to fit a drip, but… I don’t know. I’m not sure I like the idea of that. Not while he’s still able to swallow.’
Lucy places the spoon down on the table. Picking up a clean napkin, she tenderly wipes the gruel from Richard’s chin. She sees Diana watching her.
‘I nursed my grandmother when I was younger. Cancer. It taught me to be patient with people. I believe everyone deserves compassion. Whether they are aware of it or not.’ She smiles.
Diana pushes the plate away.
‘Thank you for the breakfast. It was lovely… I’m not that hungry. Bit of a hangover.’
Lucy watches her, looking embarrassed.
‘I’m sorry for my reaction yesterday when you mentioned my drinking.’
Lucy shakes her head.
‘No need. It was wrong of me to comment. I’m the one who should be apologising.’
‘No, no. Honestly, you were right to. I can be a little touchy about drink. My mother… she had a problem, and I suppose I’ve always been super conscious of the amount of alcohol I consume.’
Lucy collects up the plates without commenting.
‘It’s nice that somebody is looking out for me.’
Diana smiles weakly. She smells smoke again. It’s getting stronger each time she comes in the house.
‘Do you smell cigarettes?’
‘No. I can’t smell anything,’ Lucy replies, sniffing the air. She takes the dishes through to the kitchen, returning for Richard.
‘I was thinking of taking him to sit out in the garden for a while. It’s such a beautiful day, it seems a shame for him to be cooped up in that stuffy room. It’s stiflingly hot in there this morning.’
Diana hesitates, uncomfortable with the idea.
‘If it’s a problem, I can just put him in his room. It’s only that I thought…’
‘Are you going to be here? It’s a struggle for me to wheel him back inside if the weather turns.’
Lucy looks out the window at the glorious sunshine and frowns. ‘I can make sure he’s in before I go anywhere.’
‘Okay.’ Diana nods, forcing a tight-lipped smile.
She watches as the girl wheels her husband’s chair from the room. She hears her chattering away to him as she takes him outside, giving him a running commentary.
She’s glad that Richard is in caring hands. The buzz of a motorboat engine cuts through the silence, and Diana cocks her head. A smile creeps onto her lips. She pushes her chair out from under the table, and stands, hurrying into the garden.
19
Lucy
She positions his wheelchair at the edge of the garden, facing out across the loch. A group of starlings chase each other above her head as she applies the brake with her foot.
The hum of an engine draws her attention over the water, as the tiny speck of a boat appears on the horizon, heading towards the shore. Lucy strolls to the jetty, hopping onto the planks. She smiles and waves as Mylo approaches. He doesn’t wave back; simply nods and looks away. Leaving the motor running, he hops ashore, tying the mooring rope off, before stepping back on to grab something. He returns along the pier carrying a pile of parcels and letters.
‘Are you the postman too?’ Lucy shouts.
He shrugs.
‘I’m basically the general dogsbody. Jack of all trades, master of none.’
Lucy turns to the direction of his gaze and sees Diana hurrying out into the garden; as much as a woman who relies on a walking stick can hurry. He hands Lucy the bundle.
‘There’s a couple for you there, the rest are for her.’
‘Oh, that was so quick! I opted for next-day delivery but never imagined it would actually happen!’
He doesn’t reply. They stand in silence as Diana approaches.
‘Mylo, good morning!’ she calls. ‘Isn’t this weather beautiful?’
He hops on deck as if he’s trying to hurry away before she reaches him.
‘Must dash. Got a million and one things to do today. Would you mind casting me off?’ He nods towards the rope. Lucy unties the loose knot he has wound around the cleat, tossing him the line.
He reverses the boat away from the pier, manoeuvring it around before heading away from the shore. Diana continues to limp along the jetty, looking dejected.
Lucy stares after the boat, trying to figure Mylo out. On one hand, he was quite forward in giving her his number, but his attitude towards her is indifferent at best, if not a little unfriendly.
‘Is he always so matter of fact?’ Lucy asks. Diana raises an eyebrow.
‘Everyone has their reasons for how they are,’ she says, watching the boat. ‘His father died while he was living in London. He returned to Scotland to look after his mother and help her run the shop. I think there’s a lot of guilt there that he wasn’t around when his father passed. It was very sudden… unexpected. He had a stroke.’
As the noise of the engine grows quieter, Lucy sorts through the pile. She hands the bulk of them to Diana, then takes her parcels, heading towards the kitchen door.
‘You’ve been busy, I see.’ Diana laughs as Lucy passes her the letters.
‘I do love to shop! I took advantage of having a mobile signal yesterday while I was out walking!’
She heads inside to open her packages.
20
Diana
She sits in the shade of the willow, realising too late that Lucy is approaching. Coughing, she tries to hide the joint she is smoking, swatting the smoke away with her free hand. The smell lingers. As she sees Lucy sniff, she knows she has been caught out. Diana shrugs, offering the spliff to Lucy, with a guilty grin. Lucy shakes her head, smiling, as she fidgets with the long sleeves of a beige chunky-knit jumper.
‘Purely medicinal. I promise. It helps with all sorts.’
‘It’s fine, honestly.’
‘I know I shouldn’t. But…’ She doesn’t finish the sentence.
‘You don’t have to explain yourself to me, really. I’m going to take Richard inside, then I might head out for a walk.’
‘Sit with me?’
Lucy crouches down, feeling the grass with the palm of her hand, before sitting cross-legged in front of Diana.
‘I’ve always had a rebellious streak. That’s probably why I became an artist rather than a lawyer.’
Lucy smiles.
‘I mentioned my mother earlier. Her drinking.’
‘Yes.’
‘She wasn’t a… well woman. She suffered from schizophrenia. Took her own life when I was in my early teens. I went to live with my grandparents after that.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Diana shrugs.
‘One of those things. My father was never on the scene. I didn’t know him. But I think… I’ve always wanted to show that I’m not like her. Does that make sense?’
Lucy nods.
‘I have always worried that she passed something on to me. Some deficiency. That in some way I would be more predisposed to the same issues she had. And I suppose my behaviour… the drinking… this.’ She holds up the joint. ‘It’s all to prove to myself that I’m nothing like her. That I am fine.’
‘I understand.’
‘Do you know much about the accident we were involved in?’
Lucy shakes her head.
‘It was a hit and run, in London.’
‘That’s terrible.’
‘We were celebrating our anniversary. It had been such a perfect day.’ She pauses for a moment, looking out over the loch. Lucy stares at her face, but she is unaware. She has drifted away, momentarily lost in her memories. She continues.
‘We were on our way to dinner in a taxi, and a van ploughed into us. It came out of nowhere. Richard’s side of the vehicle took the brunt of the force. I don’t remember much about it really. I was in hospital for many weeks. I had to learn to walk again. Every time I asked about Richard, they told me he was alive, but they wouldn’t elaborate. I knew it must have been bad, as he was never there visiting me. I wondered why. They didn’t allow me to see myself until they were sure I could handle it. And when they let me look in a mirror… They tried to prepare me, of course, but nothing could have. Not for that horror. It was far worse back then, you understand. When the wounds were fresh. You think this looks bad now?’ She sucks in air through her teeth, shaking her head. ‘When I saw what had happened, I wished I had died. I know it sounds melodramatic, pathetic even. I should have been grateful that I was alive… but I couldn’t conceive of a life with a face like this.’ She fans her fingers out towards her chin.
‘I am so… sorry,’ Lucy whispers.
Diana looks at the girl. A tear is welling in the corner of her eye.
‘Over the years, I have made my peace with it. I am glad I survived… that we both did. We were extremely lucky. But it wasn’t easy, and there have been some dark days. Nevertheless, I made it through. Some say I have run away… in a way that’s true. But I find it difficult… the way people react to me when they see me. So being here makes life easier for everyone. The thing that I now know, above anything else, is that I am nothing like my mother. I am a survivor. She wouldn’t have coped with this situation. Not at all. I’m sure of that. But I have.’ Diana leans forwards, resting her elbows on her knees, staring across the water.
‘So yes, I’ll admit I overindulge at times. I may drink too much. I smoke this rubbish. I probably take too many pills. But I know that I am okay. Please don’t assume you need to worry about me. I have made it through a lot.’
Lucy wipes her eyes.
‘I’m sorry if I’ve upset you,’ Diana says.
‘Don’t be daft. It’s lovely that you feel you can talk to me about this.’
Diana nods.
‘It can be very lonely here. It’s good to be able to chat.’
Lucy stands, kicking the lock off of Richard’s wheelchair.
‘I’ll pop him in his room, then I’ll be off. I’ll be back in plenty of time for lunch.’
‘No rush. Where are you going to go?’
‘I saw a little beach yesterday when I was out on the bike. It’s a short walk along the coast. Thought I’d check it out.’
‘Lovely. Enjoy yourself.’
She smiles as Lucy wheels her husband into the house.
21
Lucy
She throws the empty jiffy bag into the bin in the corner of her bedroom and finishes packing her rucksack, fastening the buckles. She slings it over her shoulder, heading downstairs to fill her flask in the kitchen. Diana is out in
her workshop. The smell of cannabis still lingers in the air. Lucy ducks into Richard’s room. His chair is facing her, eyes closed, head lolling forwards. She can see his chest rising beneath his crisp white shirt. She closes the door and heads out.
She skims along the perimeter of the forest, heading down a trampled grass path into a small clearing. She stops and gasps. Moss-covered trees twist towards the sky. Dappled sunlight streams in through gaps in the foliage, colouring the entire area the most fantastic shade of emerald green. She stands for a moment, taking it in. Something about the place feels magical, making her smile. It reminds her of a fairy grotto from a child’s picture book.
She doesn’t want to leave. She strokes her hand across the soft fluffy lichen on a tree trunk. The ground beneath her feet feels like plush carpet. She closes her eyes for a moment, listening to the gentle lapping of the waves on the beach where she is heading, and pushes through the trees out to the rugged coast. Clambering over boulders, she climbs down towards the shoreline. The rocks are slippery in places where the seaweed is still wet. She treads carefully, testing the ground before placing her full weight on the surface.
The baking sun beats down on her. The seat of her jeans is damp with perspiration. She wipes the back of her hand over her forehead, continuing to climb until she reaches the stony beach. Heading down towards it, she takes a towel from her bag, spreading it out across the ground.
As she crouches, she notices a stack of stones to her left, and another, further along towards the water. A third lays half collapsed next to it. She straightens, approaching the structures, kneeling beside them. She picks up a large stone from the tumbled pile. It is smooth, and cool, and as she turns it over in her hand, it shimmers, as if it contains glitter. She strokes it against her cheek, closing her eyes. She inhales deeply. Opening them, she tosses the pebble out into the water, watching as it disappears beneath the surface with a satisfying splosh. She pushes the remaining piles over. The stones clatter noisily to the ground, sending birds fluttering into the sky from the beach, and the trees behind her. Smiling, she returns to her towel, reclining onto it.