“James chapter three, verse six was engraved on my soul long ago.”
“What does it say?”
“‘The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body’ “.
She looked sideways at him and gave a little skip of mischief. “Oh, I think there are worse parts.”
He feigned shock. “Robyn Daniels, you’re a disgrace to your profession.”
She grinned, relieved to see the laughter crinkling his eyes above the dark shadows.
They shared a fish supper. David wasn’t hungry, but Robyn made him eat the bigger half of the fish and most of the chips.
“You still have exams to work for and you need to keep your strength up.”
He bit a chip and chewed silently before speaking again. “Robyn, I’ve some thinking to do about…” He glanced at her and away again. “…what I do next.” Before she could ask what he meant, a thought struck him. “Do you still have the alarm I gave you?”
“Yes, I do, don’t worry.”
“Where is it now?”
“In my bag…”
“… in the car,” he finished. “What good will it do you there? What if I attacked you? You couldn’t reach it.”
“David, nobody’s going to attack me, don’t be silly.”
“Keep it in your pocket,” he persisted stubbornly, catching a piece of fish as it rolled out of the paper.
“Yes, sir,” she said, and licked her fingers. “Did I tell you Angus Fraser apologised? Flowers, the full works? He’s history.”
He told her about Florida, about the children he had worked with.
“Just like everywhere, life isn’t fair. Some of them have everything and think they’ve nothing. Then there are the ones who have nothing, but still give you a smile that’s pure gold.”
“Will you go back?”
“One day at a time, my darling.”
Although he said it lightly, she was shaken. They were leaning on railings and she jolted upright and walked away from him. She turned to see him watching her, one hand on the railing. Then he came towards her. The wind was blowing in from the sea, sending her hair flying around her face. His own short black waves rioted across his head.
“Sorry,” he said, “that just slipped out.”
“Don’t apologise.” She heard her own voice shake.
“OK then.” His eyes ranged over every part of her face, then came to rest on her mouth. He tilted her chin up towards his. The panic rose instantly, erasing everything. Erasing his soft voice and replacing it with harsh and demanding tones. Erasing his gentle touch and replacing it with thick rough fingers. His brown eyes, their centres darkening, disappeared behind the lurching shadow of a nightmare. She beat him with her fists and ran.
She stopped under the railway bridge and hunched against the wall, her arms wrapped tightly round herself. Gradually her breathing slowed and the terror began to back off. Through the arch of the bridge, David appeared. He stopped, lifted a hand and knocked on the bricks.
“Can I come in?”
Anger, sorrow and despair tangled together inside her. She spoke in a rush. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Stop thinking about me, David. This can’t happen. It just can’t.”
He had reached her and stopped, smiling crookedly. “It’s funny. Several months ago, you needed me. You were lost and lonely.” He put up a hand to stop her as she started to speak. “I know you were. But now, the thought of being without you paralyses me with fear.”
She stared at him, still hugging herself tightly, while a train roared over the bridge above their heads. When it passed, he said: “You say this can’t happen. But it already has.” He risked brushing his fingers down the side of her hair. “And you know it has.”
Then he backed away. “Come on, it’s getting dark. Let’s go.”
He didn’t say a word all the way back. His profile was still, shuttered, as he concentrated on the traffic, his hand steady on the gears, his gaze swivelling from the road to his mirror, never once turning to her. It started to rain and the windscreen wipers thrummed through the gathering dark.
He got out of the car and came right up to her door with her. He spoke as she searched for her key. “It’s over to you now, Robyn.”
“What do you mean?”
He looked away for a moment, reaching for words. “I’ve done all I can, but I can’t walk through walls. You’ve erected the defences. You’re the one who’s going to have to take them down.”
She put her hand flat on his chest and looked up at him, questioning. “I wonder sometimes why you don’t give up. I’m really not worth it.”
“That,” he said emphatically, “is blasphemy. I spent the weekend in hell waiting for you. I’d still be there if you hadn’t come. Oh, you’re worth it.” He covered her hand. “Maybe trusting yourself is going to be even harder than trusting me.”
She leaned her forehead on his chest and whispered: “Why do you always sound so much more grown up than me?”
His mood changed like lightening. “Because I’m bigger! Now get in that door before we get any wetter.”
When she was safely inside, David walked up and down the street on each side of Robyn’s door, looking in the doorways and at the parked cars. Satisfied, he returned to his own car.
When he drew up at the side of his own house, he didn’t go in immediately. He slammed the car door and, putting his hand on the weeping cherry as he passed it, he made his way across the lawn through the near dark. It had stopped raining but the sodden trees and bushes at the back of the garden drenched him as he pushed through them. He leaned his back against the pitted trunk of a fir tree and looked up through the branches. Thin scraps of cloud brushed over the stars as he closed his eyes, allowing his thoughts to ebb and flow with the night breeze. Some little creature scuffled through the undergrowth. David stayed still, drawing peace into himself, allowing it to sink into the very pores of his skin. A pigeon churred sleepily above him, the sound travelling softly through the night.
The reality of his situation bent his soul and he could see no way out of the thicket of problems. He spoke aloud to the stars.
“How about a hand here? Things are a bit rough, you know.”
His mind moved on, beginning to fill with a lovely face framed by hair flying in the wind. A mischievous grin on a mouth he would die to kiss. But she was so much more than that. She had become the anchor of his days, the companion of his heart.
He shoved himself upright, spun round and punched the tree trunk so hard he skinned his knuckles. She can’t see it! Oh my God, why can’t she see it? What is wrong? Despite the wet and cold, he pulled up his sleeves, clenched his hands into fists and flexed his arms.
At the edge of the lawn there was a garden shed. Quietly he pulled the bolt and searched in the dark until his hand found the axe. He brought it out into the starlight and prowled round the garden, swinging it easily in his hands. His eyes darted from tree to tree. Somewhere in this forest, there must be a tree just asking to be chopped down. He pushed through the bushes again. His eyes lit on a laburnum tree. Ha! They were poisonous anyway. Placing himself where he could get a good swing, he poured all his frustration into the muscles of his arms and swung the axe in a mighty arc. The first strike sliced halfway through the trunk.
Lying on his stomach with one bare arm hanging out of the side of the bed, David was in a restless sleep. His dreams were full of trees and seagulls, and someone was hiding from him, darting away just as he thought he was about to catch up. The sun seemed to rise and shine very brightly. Gradually he became aware that it wasn’t the sun. The light in his room was on and someone was bending over him, saying his name. He pushed himself upright. Fuzzily he checked the time. What was his mother doing in his room at half four in the morning? He pushed his legs over the edge of the bed and focused on what she was saying.
She was in her dressing gown, her face creased, tears of anxiety very close. She was telling him that she had woken to find his fathe
r gone from the bed. She thought he had gone to the bathroom but he hadn’t come back. She had got up and checked, but he wasn’t anywhere upstairs. She had been to the bottom of the stairs also, but she couldn’t hear him anywhere.
Now fully awake, David didn’t patronise her by telling her not to worry. She had turned on all the lights already. He went onto the landing and methodically searched upstairs, room by room, walking round the furniture to check every corner. Every few minutes he called out, pausing to listening for a response.
Then he went downstairs and went through the study, the den, the cloakroom. He covered every inch until finally he came to the kitchen. Elizabeth had followed him. Manna’s basket was in the corner by the radiator. It was empty. David thought he heard a whine outside. His thoughts racing, he checked the back door. It was unbolted.
“Mum, turn on the outside lights,” he instructed urgently, pulling the door open. It was raining again, teeming onto the gravel at the bottom of the steps. Manna stood floodlit in the light from above the door. He was soaked and distressed. David felt his mother throwing a rainproof coat around his naked shoulders. He bunched the collar under his chin and went barefoot down the steps.
It was Manna who led him. Dread made his knees weak as he followed the dog along the wet gravel, heedless of the sharp stones beneath his feet. At the start of the lawn, he could see a figure on the ground. He ran. The coat fell from him and rain battered his skin unheeded. His father lay on his side, his pyjamas soaked and sticking to his body. One of his arms was stretched out towards the weeping cherry tree, his hand fixed in a grasp that had fallen just short of its target.
With trembling fingers David checked for a pulse, but already he knew it was too late. His father had gone away. As Elizabeth came running towards him, little screams coming from her, David gathered up his father’s body from the soaking ground.
“Oh, Dad,” he cried, “tomorrow never comes.”
25
HE TOLD HER.
Robyn was reaching for her coat when her phone rang in the morning. Instantly, she knew that something was wrong. David’s voice was strained and hollow, his words brief. The house was mad, he said. People had already started to call, there were arrangements to make, people to be polite to. And there was his mother. He couldn’t leave her, although her sister and her husband were on their way from Fermanagh already. Meantime, a medical colleague was with her.
He couldn’t talk long. Just as he was about to hang up, Robyn said gently: “Shalom, David.” There was a long pause. Then he just said: “See you,” and the line went dead.
The news travelled round the senior school and the staff, but Robyn paid very little attention to the talk. Most comments from the staff were sympathetic, although Billy Dobbin was in his usual form.
“Church leader, dicky heart, learns his son’s been going forth and multiplying. The old man couldn’t take it, I suppose. I wonder how King David feels now.”
Angus put his head round Robyn’s door. “Poor guy,” he said, “his trouble’s don’t come in ones, do they?” He grinned. He closed the door and she felt like spraying the handle with disinfectant.
Tim came to see her. “The funeral’s on Friday. But it’s going to be in their home church in Fermanagh. The grave’s there.”
“Did David ask you to tell me that?”
“Yeah.” Tim’s fair skin reddened. “He also said to tell you he doesn’t want you to go.” He must have seen the hurt written on her face. “It’s not that he doesn’t… I just think he needs to focus on what’s happened.”
“But I wouldn’t stop him doing that.”
Tim backed towards the door. “Yes, you would.”
That night she tried a text message. Although she stayed awake a long time, there was no reply.
The day of the funeral was dry, with a strong breeze. All day her eyes kept wandering to the window as she wondered what the weather was like in Fermanagh. Gemma contacted her.
“Fancy some grub in town? I finish at five.”
Robyn’s first reaction was to say no, but then she decided that it would be a distraction. Gemma was a little subdued, as if she were building up to something. Robyn soon found out what.
“Do you know your mother’s not well?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Well, Neil was on the phone earlier. She hasn’t been herself for some time, but he says she got a letter from you and now she’s really depressed. He doesn’t know what was in the letter, but he’s actually quite worried about her.”
“So Neil asked you to see me?”
Gemma looked defensive. “Yes, he did. But I would have anyway. He can’t get up to Belfast just now, or he would have come to see you himself.”
“Please tell him not to bother.”
“This is about your mother, Rob, not Neil. What’s happened between you and her anyway? You haven’t been back home in weeks.”
“It’s a long story, Gemma. And a private one.”
Gemma twisted her fork in a plate of spaghetti. “Well, she’s your mother, no matter what. I just hope you don’t regret this.”
When they had finished, Robyn opened her bag to get her purse.
“Rob! You’ve got a mobile phone!” Gemma took her own phone from her bag. “Great! Give me the number. It’ll make things so much easier. Why didn’t you tell me?” She sat with her thumb poised.
Robyn stood up. “Sorry, Gemma, it’s only for emergencies. Restricted, so to speak.”
Gemma gaped. “But I’m your friend. Even if we’re not going to be related.”
“There’s still my land line, and it has an answer phone.”
Gemma put her phone away and sulked. “I don’t believe you. A phone’s not much good if nobody knows the number.”
“Absolutely none at all.”
That night Robyn was about to go to bed when her mobile rang. Her hand trembled slightly as she answered it. “Hi,” she said.
“Are you in bed yet?”
“No,” she said.
“If I drove down, would you come down to the car for five minutes?”
“Yes.”
“I’m leaving now.”
The street was a patchwork of pools of light and craters of darkness. Robyn waited at the top of the steps. There were a few people about: drunks hollering their unsteady way home; couples walking in close embraces. She recognised David’s car pulling into a space a little further up the street.
She slid in beside him.
“I thought you might stay in Fermanagh overnight,” she said.
He was still dressed in a suit, with a white shirt. The black tie had been pulled loose and hung below the open neck. His shadowed eyes were circled with smudges. He reached for her hand and she let it rest in his as she waited.
Finally he said: “He died thinking very badly of me, Robyn. I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t listen.” Lamplight angled in through the windscreen, highlighting the sharpened planes of his face.
She squeezed his hand. “This is the bad time. The very worst bit. And your father loved you.”
“Yes he did. And I loved him.” He rested the side of his head against the window. The anguish in his voice was hard to bear. “That’s what makes it hurt so much.”
She waited a moment and then asked: “How’s your mother?”
“Not good. But she’ll cope.”
“So will you.”
He fiddled with her fingers. “Thanks,” he said after a while.
She watched his fingers interlacing through her own, detaching, twining, gripping again. “What for?”
“For still being here.”
She smiled a little. “You’re not the only one who can stick around.” Gently she pulled her hand away. “It’s been a long traumatic day for you. Go home now.”
He gave a long deep sigh and raised his head. “Thanks,” he said again.
“What for this time?”
His mouth twitched slightly. “I’ve been surrounded by clich�
�s for days.” He mimicked voices. “‘Time is a great healer.’ ‘He can’t have suffered for long.’ ‘Wouldn’t it have been far worse if he’d had a terrible disease?’ He touched her cheek. “You haven’t come out with one yet.”
“Give me time.”
Longing was plain on his face as he looked at her. His hand moved to the back of her head and she felt a gentle pull as his eyes travelled to her mouth. With a quick reflex, she twisted and reached for the door handle. He released her instantly.
Despite everything, he didn’t drive away until he saw that she was safely through her own door.
They met again near teatime on Sunday, on a seat under the rose walk in the park. He didn’t look any better, although he was quite calm. She listened while he told her every detail of the night his father died. He told her about their rocky, volatile relationship. They respected each other but, although physically alike, their minds were very different. At one point he stopped and studied her, his mouth open as if he were about to say more, perhaps to tell her something. Then he stood up abruptly and walked across to the rose beds.
The roses were sadder now, less fragrant. The days of rain had bent the great heads and rotted many of the buds on their stems. They looked scrawny, disconsolate.
“Remember playing the guessing game with the names of these roses?” she asked, standing behind him.
“The day you bit my nose off.”
“The day you didn’t walk away.”
He turned to her and held up his open hand in an unconscious repetition of what they had done that day. She raised hers and touched it palm to palm with his. They stood facing each other on the damp grass, hands raised together. His face was etched with stress, grief, sleeplessness, yet he held her gaze with an energy which made her catch her breath. She felt the whole world narrowing to the patch of grass on which they stood, felt the petals of an entirely new emotion unfolding in her, an emotion for which she had no name.
Always he stirred her mind. She hardly recognised the colours she now lived amongst as belonging to the same world which had once been so dull and grey. He had succeeded in stirring her body; she recognised that now. But what she felt today, eye to eye and palm to palm with him, was neither of those things. Her fingers bent through his as she searched his face as if she could find the answer there.
Healer of My Heart Page 20