‘I’ve come across a relaxation technique called straw breathing,’ Heather told her. ‘You breathe in through your nose and then out through the straw. Try it.’
‘Erm, I don’t think so,’ Jo said with a half-smile.
Heather raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s to regulate your breathing. You’ll need to practice but once you’re confident then whenever you feel yourself getting panicky you can use it.’
‘So when I’m back at work and start to feel anxious, you really think I’m going to sit there with a straw in my mouth? Do you not think making a fool of myself will make me even more stressed?’
‘It’s not the only technique,’ Heather said. She handed Jo a plastic folder crammed full of printouts from various websites. ‘There are tons of other ideas in there, and I’ve also ordered a couple of self-help books that have had really good reviews.’
Jo took a sip of coffee as she mulled things over. ‘I’m not sure I need them any more.’ She was as sure as she could be now that whatever had happened to David, he wasn’t coming home. As she let that thought settle, she held on tightly to her coffee mug and pretended not to feel the tremor coursing through her body.
‘Jo, you’ve got to take it slowly. You said yourself that your anxiety doesn’t always have to have a rational reason behind it.’
Shrugging, Jo said, ‘I’m not saying I’ve completely got my act together, but after yesterday I feel as if I can face anything. I must have looked like a raving lunatic when I attacked Steve, but that was justifiable.’
‘I don’t blame you – and if anything I’m in awe of you. I don’t know how you held it together.’
‘I know. But I did. Enough to make it up with Steph and then go through everything Steve had told me with the police,’ Jo added with a note of pride.
‘And bring Archie home.’
‘Ah, but that was the easy part,’ Jo said as if the fraught bedtime drama had never happened. ‘I couldn’t have left him there with Steve in the house and at the time Irene was in a worse shape than I was.’
‘How is she?’
‘Still in shock, I think. She phoned this morning to say that she’s told Steve to leave. I hope she follows through with it because I don’t want her looking after the baby if he’s there. Not that I have any other real option if I’m going back to work next week.’
‘You can’t go back now!’
‘I have to. My maternity leave ends and while I suppose I could get signed off sick, I wouldn’t do that. I could only imagine what Kelly would make of it and besides, it’s bad enough that my home life is in limbo, I can’t deal with my working life being put on hold too.’
Heather didn’t look convinced. ‘But what about the police investigation? If they reopen the case—’
‘They already have reopened the case,’ Jo corrected.
‘So things are going to be more stressful for you in the short term at least.’
Jo wanted Heather to stop there and then. She didn’t want to be told that she might be asking too much of herself. Heather was the one she was relying on for encouragement. If she had wanted a dose of realism, she would have phoned her mother. Heather caught the look and responded to the unspoken plea.
‘All right, maybe going back to work is a step in the right direction. It will give you something else to focus on and at least it gets you into a routine of leaving the house, but you’re going to have to find some time for exercising too. It’s another way to boost your mental health.’
Jo pulled back her shoulders to make room for her expanding confidence. ‘I walked all the way here,’ she said.
‘So now we need to build up your energy for the walk home,’ Heather said, picking up a menu.
Jo had been banking on Heather offering her a lift home but she wasn’t about to admit it. ‘I will,’ she said, and while her friend was deciding what to have for lunch, Jo glanced out of the window. There had been a heavy downpour overnight, and although the rain was holding off, she had no idea how long the calm would last.
As Jo left the café, the sun was making a brief appearance and its smiling face reflected off the vast puddles she was so intent on dodging that she nearly knocked someone down.
‘Hello there, stranger.’
Jo looked up into the smiling eyes of Simon Harrison and after the obligatory cooing over the baby, she asked, ‘So how’s it going back at work?’
Simon laughed softly. ‘And what am I doing here in the middle of the working week? I’m not off sick again if that’s what you were thinking.’
‘I didn’t think any such thing,’ Jo said, already feeling a blush rising in her cheeks. ‘I’m the one that’s off, remember, so you don’t have to explain your movements to me.’
‘Not like that replacement of yours.’
‘I presume by that you mean Kelly – and she is not my replacement. I’ll be back next week.’
In the blink of an eye, Simon’s laughter lines were replaced by deeper furrows. Not quite a look of sympathy, but empathy, perhaps. ‘Glad to hear it.’ He held the look, testing to see if she would hold his gaze and allow him to speak openly. ‘How have you been?’
‘Fine,’ she answered a little too quickly.
‘That good, eh?’
Jo shrugged. No one at Nelson’s knew about her problems or at least not the ones that hadn’t made the news and she wanted it to stay that way. So why she started opening up to Simon, she couldn’t quite explain. ‘I‘ll be honest, Simon, it’s been hard. I lost sight of the person I was for a while.’
‘I know how that feels.’
Trying to smile, she said, ‘The good news is I think I’ve found her again although it’s fair to say it’s a work in progress.’
Simon nodded his approval and then, to answer the question Jo had been too polite to ask, he said, ‘I’ve taken a day’s leave today. It’s exactly two years since Jimmy died.’
Jo needed no further explanation. Jimmy was the workmate who had been killed on site. ‘You still think about him.’
‘I’ll never forget him or what happened. I wake up in a cold sweat some nights and, if anything, it’s been getting worse in the run-up to the anniversary. I would’ve liked to have gone to see his wife today, but she finds it too painful. She can only imagine what I was unfortunate enough to see but she knows how it affected me and I think it scares her. Maybe she thinks that if she looks into my eyes, she’ll see it too. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone so I send her flowers and I visit Jimmy’s grave. I was on my way there now.’
‘Would you mind if I walked with you a while?’
‘Only if you let me push the pram,’ Simon said. The smile had returned to his face. ‘I have a feeling I might be the better driver.’
Simon and Jo strolled off together and as they walked, they talked. All Saints Church was in the opposite direction to home but Jo didn’t mind. She was eager to talk to someone who didn’t need explanations, who wouldn’t just nod in the right places but would know how she felt, how she really felt.
‘I’m ashamed of the person I became,’ Jo told him. ‘It was as if it wasn’t me, it was someone else inhabiting my body while I was … I don’t know … somewhere else. I never thought it could happen, not to me. I thought I was so controlled – too controlled – sometimes. I thought I was stronger than that.’
‘None of us are immune.’
Jo didn’t look up but stared at Simon’s hands, which gripped the pram tightly. They were broad hands, impossibly strong, and yet when Jo had visited Simon at home, they had been shaking uncontrollably along with the rest of his body. ‘At least we’re both on the mend now,’ she said. ‘I doubt I’ll ever get back to the person I was but I’m moving forward.’
They had stopped outside the church with its sandstone wall that separated the land of the living from the graveyard. ‘Can I come with you?’ Jo asked. She wanted to pay her respects, but it was more than that. She had a long journey ahead of her in more ways than one and she wasn’t quite re
ady to leave, but when Simon didn’t immediately respond, she added, ‘Sorry, of course not. You need to do this on your own.’
‘Yes, I do need some time to myself but now you mention it, I wouldn’t mind some company to get me there.’
The cemetery was on a slope that looked out across Childwall Valley and Jo couldn’t think of a better spot for a final resting place. A single ray of sunshine had pierced the gunmetal-grey clouds to light up a path between heaven and earth and Jo chose to keep her head raised to the skies rather than look at the grave they were now standing beside.
She imagined the corpse of James Stevenson, a man she had occasionally laughed and joked with, lying beneath the earth waiting to be noticed, and when she did drop her gaze she noticed first the fresh flowers; deep red, velvety roses arranged carefully in a black marble urn.
‘Jimmy bought his wife a bunch of roses once a month without fail, every pay day.’
‘It sounds like they were happily married,’ Jo said, with a sigh.
‘Yes, I think they were.’
Simon turned to Jo who was deep in thought, thinking not of the man buried beneath their feet but his widow.
‘You’re stronger than you think, Jo. You’ve come a long way on your own and you’ll get there.’
Jo tried to smile but her lips trembled. ‘Thanks, Simon, and thank you for listening.’
‘Anytime,’ he said with a wink.
There was an awkward moment when neither knew how to say goodbye. ‘You won’t tell anyone at Nelson’s, will you?’
‘Your secret’s safe with me,’ he assured her and gave her a hug to secure the deal.
Leaving Simon to spend time on his own at his friend’s graveside, Jo pushed the pram back up the hill. Her shoulders were pulled back as she wended her way through the graveyard with its weathered headstones that marked the passage of time with partially eroded names that seemed an inadequate reflection of the lives of the long-departed and the impact they must have made on the world.
The sky above had become leaden and there was a metallic taste in the air that held the promise of a storm. Picking up her pace, Jo’s eyes were drawn to a lopsided headstone. It was old and neglected and covered in lichen but the name etched into its surface was still legible. Jo drew nearer without even realizing what she was doing.
The day darkened to night and an ice-cold chill ran through her body as beads of sweat pricked the back of her neck. Her hands grew clammy and slipped on the pram handle when she tried to tighten her grip. There was a sharp intake of breath that lodged in her throat and she tried to swallow it back but her mouth was dry and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Jo took a few more breaths in quick succession until her lungs felt ready to explode. Her heart pounded and without warning she dropped to her knees, letting go of the pram in the process. It rolled a couple of feet before jamming against a neighbouring headstone.
Unable to catch her breath, Jo’s mind raced and she tried desperately to remember what Heather had been telling her about relaxation. She grabbed her handbag and was rifling through it when Simon appeared at her side. He had put the brake on the pram and then knelt down beside her. Her face was white and her eyes wide as she glanced at him only briefly before returning her gaze to the headstone. She tried to speak but Simon could make no sense of the random syllables she blurted out between desperate gasps for air.
Following her gaze, Simon muttered, ‘Jesus!’ under his breath as he read the name on the grave: David Taylor. He quickly turned his attention back to Jo and said, ‘Look at me.’
Jo’s eyes couldn’t be drawn away from the grave.
‘Look at me, Jo,’ he said more forcefully this time, placing both hands gently on her shoulders.
She turned her head towards him.
‘Breathe with me.’ Simon took a slow, deep breath and waited for Jo to follow suit.
‘I … I can’t.’ The pure fear welling up inside her was inescapable and she couldn’t fight it. She was drowning in it.
‘You can,’ he said, his voice calm and steady. ‘You feel like your heart’s going to explode?’
Jo nodded.
‘You think you’re going to die?’
Jo’s eyes darted from one headstone to another as they crowded around her. She nodded again.
‘You’re not. Nothing bad is going to happen to you, Jo and what’s more, you know it isn’t. The panic will ease and you’ll start to relax. Give it time. All you have to do is breathe. Slowly does it.’
Jo tried again and this time she succeeded in matching Simon breath for breath. When she found a rhythm she could sustain, she resumed her search through the contents of her bag until she found what she had been looking for. She picked up the straw and held it between her teeth. Simon looked slightly bemused as Jo breathed in through her nose and out through the straw just as Heather had instructed her. She was aware of the smile appearing on Simon’s face but she was too far gone to be embarrassed.
It took perhaps ten minutes, but eventually Jo was ready to stand up. ‘Sorry,’ she said scratchily, climbing to her feet with trembling knees.
‘That’s a new one on me,’ he said, nodding towards the straw Jo had peeled from her parched lips.
‘A friend suggested it.’ Jo continued to shake while her mind was still dealing with the more difficult task of simply breathing. ‘I’m not sure if it helped with the breathing but just knowing that I looked like a complete idiot was all the incentive I needed.’
The concern etched on Simon’s face fell away and he didn’t even try to hide his smile this time. ‘Well, I didn’t like to say.’
Jo tried to return the smile but it wouldn’t come. She looked down at her shaking hands. They weren’t as broad or as strong as Simon’s but she had thought them strong enough. ‘I’d convinced myself that I’d got past all of this.’
‘And you will – but Jo, it doesn’t happen overnight. Setbacks happen and unfortunately they can come without warning.’ He paused and waited for Jo to draw her eyes away from the headstone again. ‘I would never have believed that one day I’d be the one staying calm while someone else tried to outrun their fears. Your day will come too,’ he promised. ‘There’s an old saying, “This too will pass,” and it’s seen me through some of the darkest hours of my life.’
‘It sounds so simple.’
‘Oh, it’s not, not by a long shot, but that isn’t the only trick you can have up your sleeve. If you can learn some breathing techniques, with or without the straw, and find a way to relax when you feel a panic attack coming on, then you’re halfway there. And don’t forget to keep telling yourself over and over again that nothing bad is about to happen, that you’re not in immediate danger and there’s nothing to run away from.’
‘Except my demons.’
‘Yes, and that’s where the therapy will come in useful.’
‘You’ve been good therapy, Simon. Thank you.’
Jo released the brake on Archie’s pram and made a move to leave but Simon put one of his giant hands over hers. For a moment it stopped the tremors. ‘I’ve never forgotten your kindness when you came to see me. I’m glad I’ve had the chance to return the favour.’
The warmth flooding into Jo’s heart was the perfect remedy to the cold fear that had invaded her body. ‘I was only doing my job,’ she said.
Simon shook his head and couldn’t hold back a gentle laugh. ‘If you were Kelly then I’d agree, but you come from a different mould and she’ll never fill your boots.’
‘How’s she been doing?’ Jo asked.
Simon winced. ‘She’s had Jim running around in circles. There was nearly a walkout on site last week when she issued new instructions about— Oh, never mind. Save all of that until you’re back at Nelson’s.’
‘Thanks, Simon. You’ve given me more reason than ever to get back now,’ Jo said, pleased to be talking about something other than her own troubles.
‘Don’t run before you can walk,’ he warned.
&n
bsp; ‘My legs feel like jelly so there’s no way I’ll be running anywhere any time soon,’ she said with a laugh that caught in her throat. She was looking not at Simon but the headstone inscribed to a beloved husband and father, although this particular David Taylor had died long before her own beloved husband had even been born.
It felt like an omen.
Simon had tried to persuade Jo to take a taxi home but she insisted she could manage on foot. Her legs felt wobbly at first but the pram offered some support and she hoped the walk would clear her head. It was about a half-hour trek but in the scheme of things, it was the least of the challenges that lay ahead.
However, no sooner had she set off when a spark zipped across the leaden sky, quickly followed by a deep rumble of thunder. When the heavens opened, Jo stopped only briefly to pull the waterproof cover over Archie’s pram. She had no such protection for herself. Her showerproof jacket was all but useless and she was soon soaking wet. Her feet squelched inside her trainers as she strode as fast as her legs would carry her. Inside one of her pockets, her mobile phone thumped against her hip and she thought she felt it vibrate but she chose to ignore it.
The rain ought to have compounded her misery but it felt good to have her pulse racing with exertion rather than terror. She could almost believe she was outrunning the anxiety that had come back to haunt her in the graveyard, and by the time she reached Beaumont Avenue she was prepared to pick herself up, dry herself off and try again. She had realized that her mind needed more time to heal and she was ready to accept, albeit reluctantly, that she was allowed the occasional lapse. She was glad Simon had been there for her. It wasn’t just that he knew what she was going through – he had given her hope. She had seen him at his lowest and could never have imagined that one day, not only would he be well enough to return to work, but strong enough to offer someone else a helping hand.
The Missing Husband Page 30