by Matt Hilton
‘I’ll run you home after,’ I promised. ‘I managed to get my car back.’
Sarah turned and eyed me. ‘Eh?’
She knew nothing about my arrest or what had happened since. She didn’t need to know.
‘I’m not talking about coming out in the snow. I mean coming here.’ She didn’t move to take off her coat or hat. ‘Not after the way you were the other day.’
I hung my head in shame. ‘I don’t blame you for feeling that way. I was a complete idiot. I owe you an apology.’
‘It’s not me you owe the apology. It’s Brianne and Hilary. Steve too if they told him what you had to say about him.’
I shrugged. ‘Probably.’
Of course I’d no sooner apologize to Smarmy Steve than I’d eat fresh dog shit scraped off his shoes. But if it pleased Sarah to watch me eat humble pie, then so be it. I could pretend. I’d had plenty of practise over the past ten years.
‘Why don’t you take off your coat? Go and sit down, I’ll stick the kettle on.’
She looked into the parlour without entering. She turned back to me and she pulled her parka tighter, guarded.
I said, ‘You’ll get more benefit from your coat later if you take it off now. You’ll soon warm up. I’ve got the fire on.’
Sarah pursed her lips, gave a short nod. She pulled off her wooly hat. Her hair retained the shape of the hat for a moment before a few stray locks tumbled. Sarah pushed them behind an ear as she entered the parlour. I had indeed got the decrepit gas fire working, and though it sputtered and guttered with dirty orange flame, it had done its job of warming the parlour.
Anticipating Sarah’s arrival I’d already prepared cups with instant coffee granules, sugar and milk. The electric kettle was full, and I switched it on. Then I followed to the parlour, checking that Sarah hadn’t slipped out while my back was turned. She had discarded her coat, hanging it over the corner of the settee, and sat down. She wasn’t relaxed, not if the way she sat forward, her hands clenched on her knees, was any indication. She studied me from under hooded eyelids, and clenched her hands tighter. She trembled.
‘Is everything OK?’ I asked.
She didn’t reply.
‘Sarah?’
‘I overheard something today that I didn’t like,’ she said.
A pang went through me. Had she heard about my little meltdown at Catriona’s place?
I sat beside her. She budged over an inch. But it was away from me. The smell of tobacco smoke on her clothing was strong. She’d been smoking heavily on the way over. She unclasped her hands, her fingers played over her knees like spiders’ legs.
‘I can explain,’ I began.
She cut me off. ‘I know why you phoned in sick. I already explained that it’s not something I’m happy with, but who am I to say anything?’
I was a bit lost. She obviously hadn’t heard about my scuffle with Mark. ‘What’s wrong?’ I ventured.
‘I overheard Daniel on the phone to head office,’ she explained. ‘He was talking about you, saying he didn’t believe that you were genuinely poorly. He was asking how he should progress with a disciplinary case against you. He suggested that you should be sacked for gross misconduct.’
I bit my lip. Despite my cavalier attitude to work, I really needed that job. ‘They can’t sack me for being off sick.’
‘They can if it’s shown there was nothing wrong with you. It’s not as if this is the first time, is it?’
‘So I’ll go and get a doctor’s note. What are they going to do then?’
Sarah was still for a moment. Then she peered at me. Lines crinkled at the corners of her eyes. ‘I think…well, I think that might be a good idea.’
‘Aye, that’ll put a spanner in the works for Daniel. I might even sicken him and take a full week off work. I’m sure if I play up to the doctor he’ll give me a note for as long as I need.’
Tears welled and dripped down Sarah’s cheeks. Her sadness probably had nothing to do with my possible sacking, but what else could it be?
‘I’m only kidding,’ I consoled her. ‘But it’s probably best if I stay off at least tomorrow and then come back in after the weekend.’
She reached over and placed one hand on my knee. I patted it, covering her hand with mine. Her fingers didn’t relax, so I couldn’t twine them with mine the way I wanted to. Gently she extricated herself and clasped her hands in her lap once more.
‘I mean you should go to your doctor,’ she whispered.
‘And I will.’
‘Not because you need an excuse for being off work.’ She sat still, allowed her silence to add import to her words.
‘What else did you overhear?’ I was equally as still after mine.
‘I heard Daniel say: “I knew no good would come of hiring a psycho-loony”.’
‘Not what you expect to hear from someone as politically correct as Daniel Graham,’ I quipped, but it didn’t earn me as much as a flicker in response.
‘Whomever he was speaking to in HR must have said much the same. Daniel backtracked, but said he was only stating the truth. He said that you had recently been released from the Cayton.’
“The Cayton” was a derogatory name given by locals to the mental health hospital I’d been in. Officially it hadn’t been called that for decades, but that was the way locals referred to the old insane asylum that predated the modern NHS facility.
Sarah was waiting for me to admit to Daniel’s story. I just sat there. I felt numb inside, like I’d been cored out.
‘I wasn’t in the Cayton. You know that, Sarah. I’ve worked beside you the last…what? Six years?’
‘Six weeks,’ she corrected.
‘What?’
‘Never mind: you’re obviously confused about that.’
I ran a hand through my hair; plumbing the depths of my memory for the denouements I’d come to earlier. Six weeks? Shit…
‘I…’ Sarah rubbed her hands over her face. She balled her hair in her hands. ‘I did something I’m not proud of.’
I didn’t answer. Whatever was coming I wasn’t going to like it.
‘I Googled your name,’ Sarah admitted.
‘Googling me wouldn’t tell you if I was a patient at the Cayton,’ I told her matter-of-factly.
‘That’s not what I was looking for. Suffering mental health issues isn’t the taboo it once was. It isn’t something I’d hold against you, Jack.’
‘So what’s the big deal, then?’ At the centre of my empty core, a spark ignited. I felt tendrils of fire creeping through my body, up my chest. The short hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and painful electrical charges danced on the crown of my head.
‘I read about what happened to Naomi.’
My eyes felt flat.
‘I read that you were suspected of causing her death.’
‘Did you also read that I was later cleared of all charges?’ Despite how hard I tried I couldn’t keep the venom out of my voice. I stood up quickly. Looked down at Sarah. She squirmed.
‘Yes.’ Her voice was a tiny squeak.
‘It was all vicious lies!’ I went on. ‘Can you imagine how terrible I felt? I’d just lost my girlfriend in a horrible accident and people were making those fucking accusations about me!’
Red crept into Sarah’s cheeks. What I could see of her throat was blotchy. Her hands knit a pattern, clasped in her lap once more. She was struggling to get her words out, and no wonder. ‘Do you promise me that you had nothing to do with Naomi’s death?’
‘Do I even need to?’
‘Please, Jack, don’t shout at me.’ Sarah’s clasped hands had moved to her throat. ‘I read some pretty horrible things today, and am only looking for some reassurance from you. Tell me you had nothing to do with her death and I’ll accept it.’
‘I had nothing to do with her death,’ I said in monotone.
Sarah continued to eye me, and I noticed that her pupils were trembling. A small moan leaked between her lips.
&nb
sp; ‘I had nothing to do with her death,’ I intoned again, leaning closer to add weight to my denial. My breath snapped the hair back from her forehead. Sarah flinched with each syllable. ‘What? You don’t believe me?’
‘The coroner’s report said that she had bruises on her face that weren’t-’
I cut her off with a slash of my hand. ‘Yeah, and I had fucking scratches on my face. It was her that attacked me, not the other way round.’
Sarah placed an elbow on the arm of the settee for support, about to get up. I loomed over her, pressing her down and back by force of presence. ‘Who have you been speaking to?’ I demanded.
‘What do you mean?’
‘How would you know what the fuck the coroner’s report said? It isn’t in the public domain. You couldn’t have got those kind of details from the news reports.’
‘Catriona and Mark said-’
‘And you listened to those bastards?’
‘Catriona was worried about you. After that thing with all the texts, she just wanted to make sure that you were OK. She’d heard you were seeing a manager from work. Seeing as I’m the only female manager there, I didn’t take much tracking down. She phoned and asked for me. She said she suspected you’d stopped taking your medication. She, uh, said that you were diagnosed with an extreme form of bi-polar disorder that you’d been receiving treatment for. She said you previously suffered manic-depressive episodes, exhibiting delusional ideas, causing you to become aggressive, intolerant, and even intrusive. She said your illness made you grow obsessive in the past, and sending multiple numbers of texts was something you used to do.’
I hardly listened to a word she’d said. Only one thing bothered me. ‘When did you speak to them?’
‘Yesterday.’
‘So you won’t know what those two did today? Do you know that when I went over to explain about the texts – that they weren’t even from me - Mark attacked me? Then Catriona called the police and had me arrested? I bet she didn’t tell you that. Yeah, Catriona’s really worried about my welfare, isn’t she? Really concerned. Fucking shit-stirring, you mean!’
‘Jack! Please!’
When I looked down, Sarah’s hands were braced against my chest. I’d leaned in so close to her that she felt I’d invaded her personal space. My mouth fell open and I stepped back. ‘Uh, I’m, uh…’
Sarah struggled up from the settee. Tears were pouring down her cheeks. ‘Catriona was right. There is something wrong with you. You’ve real anger management issues, Jack.’
I reached for her, but she jerked away, grabbing for her parka.
‘No! You can’t leave. Not yet. We have to clear the air, Sarah.’
‘There’s nothing more to say. I’m going.’ She began feeding an arm into a sleeve. I grabbed the sleeve and yanked it away.
‘Jack! For God’s sake!’
‘You’re not going.’
‘I am. You need to cool down. Then you need to phone your GP and make an appointment. Can’t you see it, Jack? The way you’re behaving? You’re acting irrational.’
‘Like a psycho-loony, you mean? Is that it, Sarah? Have you been in cahoots with Daniel as well?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ She attempted to step by me, but I blocked her.
‘It stands to reason: you’ve listened to Catriona and Mark’s lies. Why not Daniel’s, too? And what about Steve-fucking-Walker? What exactly did he have to say about me?’
Her jaw hung open.
‘What’s really going on, Sah-rah?’ I mimicked her name in a sanctimonious voice equating that of Steve’s. ‘Why is everyone teaming up against me, eh? I understand why Catriona and Mark would want me out of the way. Obviously Daniel and Steve too, because they want to get into your knickers and I’m already there! But you? Why you, Sarah? Is it because you want them in your knickers, too?’
Suddenly any fear in Sarah dissipated, replaced by a flash of anger.
‘How bloody dare you!’ she snapped. ‘You are so filthy minded! It’s your paranoia, Jack; it’s sending you nuts. How can you think that about Daniel and Steve? How can you think that of me?’
‘It’s true though, isn’t it?’
Sarah began stuffing herself inside her coat, like pushing meat into a sausage skin. I grabbed her parka and tore it away. Sarah set her mouth in a grimace and yanked the coat back again. ‘Get off me.’
‘No. You’re not going.’
If she walked out the door I’d never see her again. There was no way she would forgive and forget. I had to change her mind.
‘You’re not going,’ I repeated, even as she pulled on her coat. She cast around looking for her wooly hat. It had fallen to the floor. I kicked it away from her groping fingers. If I couldn’t change her mind with words, I’d have to find another way to make her stay. Sarah glared at me, then bent to retrieve her hat. I pushed her and she fell against the settee. My intention was to stop her grabbing the hat, as if by depriving her of it she would be resistant about going out in the blizzard. Sarah over reacted, howling at me as if I was about to strike her or something. I stepped towards her, keen to offer a hand to help steady her. She slapped my hands away. Her nails broke the scabs on the damaged knuckles, and I hissed in pain as blood dripped.
‘Get the fuck away from me!’ Sarah rushed for the door still half bent over. But even with my gimpy knee I was that much quicker. I caught the edge of the open door and swung it closed. The door banged noisily. Sarah couldn’t halt her momentum. She crashed against the door and rebounded. As she stared at me in horror, I could tell she was dazed as much by surprise as pain.
‘You’re not leaving me,’ I told her, pulling her away from the door. ‘Not like this.’
Sarah had always struck me as a strong, independent woman, but right then she was as fragile as an effigy of straw. ‘Please, Jack, don’t be like this.’
‘Like what? Oh, angry you mean? Because the one person I care about is as bad as all the others. I thought we had something special going on, Sarah. I thought of all people you would take my word. I didn’t have anything to do with Naomi’s death. Why won’t you fucking believe me?’
She didn’t answer my question. Instead she said, ‘That’s enough, Jack. Let me go now.’
‘No.’ I folded my arms on my chest, standing guard at the door.
‘I’m phoning for my dad,’ she announced, and began to rake through her bag for her iPhone.
‘No, you’re not.’
‘OK, then. You’ve had your chance, Jack. I’m phoning the police.’ She pulled out the mobile phone. I took a single step forwards and slapped it out of her hand. It fell between us, and I reached for it, fending her away with my other arm.
‘Give it back! Give it back, Jack.’
‘No way.’ I threw it down the room and watched it smash against the wall. The back popped loose, and the battery went flying. The screen and electronic components flew in the opposite direction.
‘Are you fucking insane?’ Sarah screeched.
‘According to you I am,’ I countered.
‘You’ve gone too far now.’ Sarah ran at me, and I flinched expecting a flurry of blows. Of course, she wasn’t like that. She dodged to get under my arms and grabbed at the door handle. I caught her around her waist, hauled her backwards and dumped her on the settee. She jumped up immediately, feet scrabbling for purchase. I pushed her down again. Sarah began screaming.
Behind me my TV came on. The volume was at maximum. I turned to gape at it. On screen was some programme about antique hunters. But that wasn’t what caught my eye. Reflected on the screen was the face of a woman. Dead Naomi screamed at me, and the speakers amplified her voice. I clasped my palms over my ears. It didn’t help; her scream pierced me. I spun away, lurching for the door. I grabbed it and hauled it open, lurching into the hall and slamming it behind me. Sarah was hot on my heels. She grabbed the knob, twisting it, trying to force open the door. I held the knob from the opposite side, thwarting her. She screamed and swore.
‘If you don’t open this door I’ll knock it off its hinges,’ she threatened. She pummelled the door with her free fist.
I laughed at the absurdity of her threat. And then the laughter caught in my chest. I recalled saying something similar when I was stopped from opening the door: You’re going to open this time or I’ll kick you off your bloody hinges!
From within the parlour I could still hear Naomi’s ghostly voice. It repeated the same phrase over and over: Not safe here. It was doubtful that Sarah could hear, because she was too busy hollering at me to open the damn door. She’d stopped banging. Moments later I caught the sound of a clatter as she repeatedly slapped her palms on one of the front windows. Was she trying to catch the attention of a passer-by? I quickly went to the front door and slapped the bolts in place. There was also an old-style brass snib on the drum lock and I pressed it to the locked position. It wouldn’t stop Sarah escaping, but it would slow her should she get past me. Anyone outside would have a hell of a time getting in though.
Returning to the parlour, I opened the door and allowed it to swing open. Sarah had her back to me, craning to see out the window. The snow was a falling blanket, yellowish in the glow of the streetlamps. The blizzard helped quash Sarah’s yells for help, and maybe that was good because it was still early enough for the workers in the insurance brokerage to hear.
‘Are you going to calm down?’ I asked.
Sarah spun round. Her face was set. She held her hands fisted across her tummy.
‘There’s no need for all this shouting and screaming,’ I told her. ‘You’re going to piss off our neighbours.’
‘You’re off your head, Jack,’ she responded.
‘I’m off my head in love with you,’ I said.
‘No. You’re not. How could you be and treat me like this?’ She slashed her fists down by her sides, her head forced forward on a taut neck. ‘You have to stop this now, Jack. It has gone way too far as it is.’