Anger isn’t a nice emotion and I should be above it. But this woman is so blasé that I have to resist the urge to get up and walk away from her.
‘I thought you said you’d managed to forget it for years?’
She doesn’t say anything; instead she turns her face up to the sun. My thoughts turn to the poor friend she killed, and her family.
‘I hope you find the peace you’re looking for.’
I remain seated but I turn away and look up at the birds nest in the willow tree. After two very long minutes she gets up and walks back down the path towards the exit. When I hear the gate close, I go into my cool dark church and head for my small bathroom. I vomit quietly and clean my face.
* * *
I wake up in a hospital bed with two young women looking down at me. It takes a while for my eyes to focus properly.
‘Father? My name is Doctor Williams, Liz, and you’re in the hospital. There’s no need to be alarmed, you’re going to be fine.’
I look down at my body. The gown is displaying everything.
‘Father, this is Anne Carol, she’s a psychiatrist who wants to have a few words with you in a minute. First of all, do you remember what happened? Why you are here?’
Her voice is gentle. I must have cut too deep. I feel pain in my right wrist so I look down and see it’s heavily bandaged. It was the only space I had left. I nod.
‘I’m ever so sorry, it was accidental. I’ll get up.’
The doctor and psychiatrist exchange a look and both step forward, stopping me from getting out of bed.
‘Father, we’re concerned about you. About the scars,’ the psychologist, Anne, looks down at my body as she talks. ‘Your body is covered in scars; they’re all over your legs, arms, feet and chest. Some are fresh and others are clearly very old. Forgive me for asking Father, but how long have you been cutting yourself?’
I can’t look at either of them.
‘I was asked this morning how I can bear taking on everyone else’s problems and darkest secrets. I wanted to say that I bear it so that they don’t have to. But I’m not strong enough to keep it all in me; I need a way of releasing the worst ones. I’m afraid I’m not a very good priest.’
They take my hands in theirs and let me draw comfort from them. This is my darkest secret, and now I’ve told it.
Winter
From the outside, with the light snow gently accumulating around the living room window, the household inside this semi-detached home looks like any other. The lights and the television are on and there is a married couple sitting on the sofa. Their two children play on the rug in front of the fire. A casual glance from a passing stranger wouldn’t arouse any suspicion of the turmoil this family is going through.
Inside, anxious eyes are on the television. The local evening news is about to start, and this family are part of the main headline. The familiar theme tune begins as two sombre looking newsreaders stare at the camera, directly into the eyes of the family. Mick, the husband, and Laura, his wife, shush their twin toddlers so that they can concentrate.
‘Today’s main headline: A local woman has disappeared on the day of her husband’s funeral.’
Tears accumulate in Laura’s eyes. The missing woman is her thirty-one year old sister, Nic.
‘Good evening,’ the male newsreader continues, ‘It was already a stressful day for local office worker Nicola Manning and her family. Her husband, who died last week of natural causes, was due to be buried. It was at his church service that Nicola’s family last saw her. That was two days ago.’
The camera dramatically cuts to the female newsreader.
‘Mrs Manning’s husband, David, had died unexpectedly of what is thought to be Sudden Adult Death Syndrome. He was only thirty-three years old and of previous good health. He and Nicola had been married for just under one year, although they had been together for four years.
Photographs of David and Nicola laughing and smiling at each other on their wedding day flash up on screen. Laura had provided them when the journalist visited her earlier that day. She had declined his request to do a piece to camera about how worried she was for her sister’s safety. The sight of the familiar photos makes her cry harder. Mick holds her firmly.
‘Nicola Manning was said to be devastated at losing her husband unexpectedly, and was not coping well. Although she attended her husband’s church service, she disappeared before the burial. At first the burial was delayed, in the hope that she would reappear but when, after an hour, she still couldn’t be found, Mr Manning’s parents insisted on going ahead without her. No-one has seen Nicola Manning since and she has been officially reported as missing by her sister, Laura White. Anyone who knows of Nicola’s whereabouts is being urged to ring the telephone number seen on screen now.’
The camera cuts back to the male newsreader as he moves onto today’s other stories.
Mick turns the television volume down and then turns to hug Laura. Her whole body is shaking and she is struggling to remain composed for the sake of the children.
‘Where is she Mick? Why hasn’t she phoned or texted me? She should know I’ll be panicking about her. Doesn’t she realise what she’s doing to me?’
Mick takes a minute to carefully word his response.
‘She’s obviously not thinking rationally, love. She probably just needs some time alone to come to terms with David’s death. I expect she couldn’t bear seeing him buried. I know I couldn’t.’
David and Mick were close friends. The thought that David could die so young for no logical reason terrifies Mick. He feels that he can’t begin mourning David until they know where Nic is. He tries to sympathise with her instead of being resentful that she’s causing them so much more pain.
‘Hopefully she’ll have watched tonight’s news and she’ll phone us soon. It might jolt her back to reality.’
Four year old twins Jake and Christopher resume their play but with hushed voices and an identical frightened look in their eyes. Until David’s death they hadn’t seen their parents upset before, so they don’t understand what’s happening. They both pretend to be interested in their remote control cars but really they want to go and sit on their mum’s lap.
Just then, the landline phone starts ringing and makes everyone jump.
‘I’ll get it.’ Mick leaps up first. He wants to filter whatever news the police bring them. He doesn’t expect it to be good news because he remembers the look on Nic’s face when he had seen her the day after David’s death. She had no light in her eyes and no blood in her face. He remembers thinking that it looked as if her soul had died and just left an empty body behind. He’d had a nightmare about her that night.
‘Hello?’
Laura is standing next to him, holding on to his arm.
‘Mick? It’s me, love,’ It was Mick’s mother. She lives with Mick’s father, three hundred miles away in Cornwall. ‘Is there any news?’
‘No mum, not yet. No-one’s heard from her.’
Laura drops her hand and returns to the sofa, checking her mobile phone for a missed call, or a text; anything. When she sees there is nothing, she tries to interact with the boys.
‘Well we’re definitely coming up, your father won’t take no for an answer this time,’ she uses her matter of fact voice until; ‘You both need some support, even if we’re just there to babysit while you get some rest.’
Mick sighs. He agrees with her, but it’s up to Laura.
‘Hang on a minute mum, I’ll check with Laura again.’ He covers the mouthpiece, ‘Mum and dad still want to come up. They said they’ll help out with the kids. Is that okay? I think we should let them.’
She has already turned their offer down twice. Her logic is that if she says yes, it will make this entire nightmare real. It would mean that Nic really is missing. It might even mean that she’s killed herself. But now, after seeing her sister on the local news, she’s forced to admit these grim possibilities. The tears start flowing again as she nods
at Mick, defeated.
‘Yes mum, that would be really helpful. Will you be alright driving in the snow?’
‘Don’t worry about us, there’s no snow down here yet. We’ll leave first thing in the morning to be at yours for lunchtime. Okay?’
‘Okay.’
‘Take care of yourselves and ring me the minute you hear anything. I’ll have my mobile on overnight and in the car tomorrow. Your dad will be driving.’
‘Alright mum, thanks. See you tomorrow.’
‘Bye love, bye.’
He turns to Laura, ‘They’ll be here by lunchtime tomorrow. Hopefully we won’t need them for long. I’m sure Nic will ring soon.’
‘Or the Police will,’ adds Laura.
Mick sits down beside her, ‘Go and have a lie down, love. You can’t physically stay awake forever and a rest will help you cope, even if you only manage a short nap.’
She hasn’t slept properly since David’s death. Not just because of the unexpectedness and awfulness of it, but because she too had seen how bad Nic had taken the news. But each time she tries to sleep, her body jerks her awake again.
‘I do need to lie down, just for a bit. My back’s killing me. Will you bath the kids for me? They were due one last night.’
‘Of course I will. I’ll bring them in to say goodnight before I put them to bed too.’
His kindness makes her cry again. They stand up and hug, hoping that their grip will magic Nic back to them. Neither of them wants to attend a second funeral so soon. Eventually, Laura climbs the stairs to their bedroom and gets under the duvet, fully clothed. She tries to intuit where Nic is; what she’s doing, what she’s thinking, but nothing comes to her. She can’t believe her sister is putting them through this when she has the power to stop it with just one phone call. That is, unless Nic’s depression has returned. If it has, Laura knows that there would be no hope. She turns the bedside light off and stares into the darkness.
***
Nic was also staring into the darkness. Without David she felt she had no reason to be alive. He was the only person she had ever met who accepted her completely, without making her feel like she needed to adapt her personality. Their whole relationship had been mutual; they loved each other equally, they had the same sense of humour and they had supported each other. But Nic always felt it was too good to be true and worried constantly that one of them would be injured in a horrible accident. She had known that such a high level of happiness couldn’t last forever. She knew that because she had suffered with depression in the past and depression makes a person a realist, not an optimist. Depression makes a person see the world as it really is, without a filter. However, David’s enthusiasm for life was infectious and so, although she had worried that she would lose him, she foolishly tried to pretend it might not happen. She had tempted fate. And now the worst had happened and she knew she couldn’t cope without him. She couldn’t go back to being lonely, insecure and self-loathing Nic. So she wasn’t even going to try. Her grief had summoned her depression which was completely consuming her will to live. She no longer had control of her mind or her body.
The church service had been harrowing. Her whole body had trembled aggressively throughout. She had wanted to run screaming from the church during the priest’s kind words. She managed to stay seated when everyone else had gotten up to walk outside to the grave where David was to be laid to rest. Through gritted teeth she had told Laura, and then the priest, that she just needed a moment alone. Finally, when there was no-one left in the church, her heavy legs walked her to David’s coffin. Her weak arms opened it. Her wild eyes saw lovely, kind David. They chose not to see his grey waxy skin. What her mind instructed her body to do next triggered her own death. Nic climbed into the coffin, onto David. She closed the coffin lid on them and her tears.
As they were buried, her ears chose not to hear the priest’s muffled, distant words and her mouth withheld her voice. Her mind told her she was with David. They were lying in bed together on a dark winter’s night. That is why it was so cold and dark. She needed to keep David warm. ‘My little radiator’ he used to say when she cuddled up to him at night. Her cruel mind gave her a final reprieve by withholding her comprehension of the truth. In the lonely hours that followed, and in the darkness that was robbed of oxygen and reality, Nic had slowly passed away.
Until the Ghosts Come
The Age UK women find me so entertaining they told me I should write my life story, so I am. It’s not like I’ve got anything else to fill my time. No-one ever comes to see old Sid anymore. I remember when our house used to be full of visitors, mostly women gossiping about people I didn’t know. But since Gina died that’s all fizzled out. It’s just me now. Isn’t it terrible that it takes my oven to be burning before I get a visitor, and even then it’s just some young fireman telling me what I already know. They laugh and clap me on the back but they all think I’m going senile, especially since my Gina’s been turning up to see me when Corrie’s on. I never did like Corrie, the storylines are preposterous! But my Gina and her friends were always glued to it, so I got used to hearing the theme tune. I missed it after she died. It’s company now. I know all about their lives and I feel like they’re my friends and neighbours. Isn’t that sad?
Anyway, I’ve had a heck of a life. You don’t get to ninety-one without experiencing things. We never had kids though, that’s something we both ended up regretting. I’ve got a nephew in Canada and Gina’s niece visits me once every few weeks, but she’s busy with her own family. She’s the one who made Age UK come and visit me. They were lovely ladies. The young blonde one was just what the doctor ordered! But they’re busy so they can’t stay long you see. It’s all because of the budget cuts. They promise to visit again but I’ve heard that before; from the community nurses and the mobile library people. When I told them about Gina they asked to see photos so I showed them every single photo I own. It’s not that many really. You don’t realise you should be taking photos until you lose people. I don’t have one photo of my brother. Isn’t that awful?
It was when I told them that Gina came to see me the other week that they gave each other ‘the look’. They’re probably already looking into nursing homes for me. But I’m not going anywhere. Old Sid has lived in this house for sixty three years and he’s going to die in this house! So anyway, I says to them, ‘You’re never gonna believe this, but Gina came to see me the other week.’
The younger one looked puzzled for a while and then turned to the other one who gave her ‘the look’.
‘What do you mean, Sid? Did you have a dream about her?’
‘No, don’t be daft! I was sat where you’re sat, watching Corrie on a Monday night and I turned to my left, where Gina used to sit, and she was sat there laughing at what the barmaid said. I saw her clear as day. I tell you, my heart nearly gave out; I thought my time was up!’
They looked at each other with pity in their eyes and then tried to change the subject. I knew they wouldn’t believe me, they think I’m senile. But I’m not. I can still get upstairs to the bathroom on my own and I can still cook my own roast dinners. There’s nothing wrong with Sidney! But I knew then I better shut up and not tell them what’s happened since. They’d be carting me off to the funny farm if they knew. I served in Italy in the Second World War so I’ve seen my fair share of ghosts and dead people. But Gina looked exactly the same as the day she died. She was taken too young, just seventy five. Isn’t that sad? Diabetes had her in the end. But she was at home with me and she wouldn’t let me call an ambulance. I was so scared to lose her. But I knew she’d had enough and didn’t want to die in a cold hospital with tubes poking out of her. I promised her I’d follow as soon as I could. But for some reason I’m still here. It’s been eleven years since that day. I can’t see one reason for me having to stay this long without her because I’ve done nothing with my time. The house is deteriorating faster than I am. The nurses and doctors keep telling me I’m made of strong stuff, so here I
am. Waiting to die.
Anyway, that’s morbid. Don’t start Sid off down that road! I’ve got my health, I’m warm and I’m comfortable which is more than most people my age can say, so I shouldn’t complain. All I’m wanting for is company. There were some nice Irish lads drop by a few days ago who wanted to pave over my driveway. But I wasn’t born yesterday and I knew they were after my money. But I let them in and they made me a cup of tea. It was a pleasant hour and when they left, the house was too empty again. I told them to come back next week for my decision. I won’t be giving them any money mind, but they don’t know that. One of them likes cars so we were talking about the cars I’ve owned over the years.
So anyway, about Gina. That first time she didn’t say anything to me and I was too shocked to say anything to her. We just sat next to each other in near silence for the last ten minutes of Corrie. It was the most exhilarating thing to ever happen to me in my stupid life. Then, when the theme tune came on at the end, she was gone. I couldn’t sleep all night. I was hoping she’d come back and we’d go to sleep together. But she didn’t. It wasn’t until Wednesday’s Corrie that she came back. And this time she spoke!
‘What do you think about that, Sid? Isn’t that ridiculous?!’
She didn’t look at me but she pointed to the TV. One of the Webster girls was dressed like a lady of the night, and that didn’t go down well with Gina.
‘Kids need discipline love,’ I said.
‘That they do Sidney. She’s asking for trouble.’
Well, how do I explain what it felt like to talk out loud to Gina after spending eleven years talking to her in my head? I can’t. That’s the answer. Just like I can’t write about my life, not all of it. Some things can only be experienced first-hand, not through words. None of you would believe me anyway. Is it her ghost? I don’t know. All I know is that Gina was sat next to me and I could see her and hear her speak. I didn’t dare breathe through the rest of Corrie, in case she disappeared. Near eight o’clock I noticed out the corner of my eye that her arm was moving, so I looked over at her. She was stroking Billy, our terrier who died at least thirty years ago. Well, that got my heart started again, I can tell you! He was asleep but there’s no doubting that he was there and alive. I was scared. Scared in case he started barking at me and broke whatever was happening. So I stayed still and eventually fell asleep. When I woke up I was on my own and stiff as a door nail. But do you know what? For the first time in years I felt as though I was looking forward to the day. I felt like I finally had a reason to get some clean clothes on and open all the curtains. So I did. Sid had a right spring in his step, I can tell you! I suppose I was looking forward to the next episode of Corrie. But it was more than that because I went out into my back garden for the first time in months. I held onto the path rail and walked all the way to the top of the garden to check how my roses were doing. If you ask me, they looked better than they had done in years. No black spots. But you still probably don’t believe me.
End of the Road: An anthology Page 4