Do No Harm

by L. V. Hay

  The annoyed customer was a tall man whose jacket stretched across his sizeable beer belly. At his feet was a small case on wheels that seemed dwarfed by his stature. The man’s complexion was flushed, the legacy of a combination of high blood pressure and too many liquid lunches, perhaps.

  The man kept emphasising the young woman’s name, displayed on her badge, pronouncing each syllable slowly, as if it were an insult. ‘Yes, you keep saying that Ka-tie, but funnily enough, that doesn’t appear to be making the slightest bit of difference, does it, Ka-tie?’

  ‘With all due respect, all this isn’t making any difference either, is it?’

  The words were out before Sebastian had thought them through. As the annoyed customer turned, Sebastian groaned at himself. Peacemaking was so ingrained in him, he couldn’t stop himself doing it. If he admitted it to himself, it wasn’t always strictly for others’ benefit, either. Sebastian abhorred chaos and conflict; it was why his years at boarding school, regimented and predictable, had been some of the happiest of his life. He wanted the quiet life; for everyone to get along.

  Already regretting intervening, Sebastian stood up to meet the other man’s antagonistic gaze, palms out in a conciliatory gesture. ‘Look, it’s late. Why not go have a drink?’

  The tall man’s eyes narrowed, as if making a decision. Though the airport floor was solid under his feet, Sebastian felt as if he was walking a tightrope. He’d always been afraid some rowdy man would get physical with him. He hadn’t been in a fight since school, where they were never more than a tussle, anyway: the grabbing of shirt collars, the yanking of boxer-short elastic. He was not a big man, nor particularly strong. Against this powerhouse in front of him, he knew he would lose.

  And it would hurt. A lot.

  ‘Katie will put a message out on the tannoy when your flight’s ready to board … won’t you?’ Sebastian looked to the young woman.

  She nodded, eyes wide. The man blinked. Then his shoulders appeared to sag, his fury dissipating. He took in the people standing behind him, their hostile stares.

  ‘Good idea,’ the man mumbled.

  He grabbed the extended handle of his little carry-on case and stalked off in the direction of a Starbucks, pretending not to notice or hear the clap of the people in the queue.

  ‘Thank you.’ The girl gave Sebastian a grateful smile.

  He found himself grinning back, pleased with himself.

  Sebastian returned to his seat, just as his pocket started vibrating. It took him a moment to realise it was a call; he’d forgotten to switch the ringer back on after the ceremony. What now?

  The word ‘MUM’ flashed on screen. Her photo accompanied it: a picture of her one Christmas, wearing a purple paper hat, throwing her head back laughing. Sebastian liked this photo because it was one of the few of her without that self-conscious smile she so often adopted that made her look like a James Bond villain.

  Sebastian’s thumb hesitated over the screen. He was aware that he’d told her he would come and find her after the Maxwell incident at the wedding, but he hadn’t. Fran, in comparison to him, could be more mercurial and prone to fits of pique. Sebastian had spent his life trying to guess her moods, appease her; then he could get what he wanted while making it look like her idea.

  Knowing Fran as he did, Sebastian knew she would be disappointed. She would have wanted to have a final word with him. She’d probably had some kind of speech or life advice to give him; she collected motivational and inspirational quotes and memes on her Pinterest boards like a million other women online. He feared an argument.

  No, that was not right. Sebastian never argued with his mother. She would simply scold him for not saying goodbye. And, of course, he would take it. Then he’d hang up and wish he’d said something … He was supposed to be jetting off to paradise with his new bride. For God’s sake, the last thing a man should be thinking about on his honeymoon was his mother!

  All the same, he dithered. Then a burst of static emitted from the tannoy, along with the flashing yellow words on the LED screen in front of him. They were calling their flight. His mind finally made up, Sebastian swept a finger across the touchscreen and pressed the red phone icon.

  The call rejected, his mother’s face disappeared from Sebastian’s mind as quickly as her photo left the screen.

  29th May

  Up all night. Adrenaline, I suppose. Maybe a touch of frustration, too. I’d put everything into the wedding plan and I guess I hoped there would be more of a scene? But I don’t want to peak early. Every piece of this puzzle has been planned to perfection: I can’t have anything fall out of place. Not now, when so much is at stake.

  I just hate the idea of you on your honeymoon: the thought of you enjoying yourself with someone else, seeing only them, makes me feel sick. I should be the one with you. I should be the one you turn to, wonderment in your eyes. It should be me you shower with gratitude. It’s going to be such a long way back for us.

  This torture will be worth it.

  30th May

  Fuck. FUCK. FUCK!

  1st June

  How can you be gone only three days and I feel so nauseous? It’s like I am a lovesick teenager all over again. I’m pacing the floor, unable to eat, restless. All I can see in my head are sandy beaches, blue skies, cocktails on the beach. You, smiling in the sunshine. This isn’t fair. I thought it was bad before, but it was nothing compared to this. Back then, I knew you would return; there was no rush. You would see the error of your ways and come crawling back to me. I was such a fool, so complacent. Now your marriage threatens to sever the ties between us forever. Some would say they’ve already gone, but those people are just quitters. Not me. One thing I’ve realised over the years: it doesn’t matter how much time it takes, if you’re willing to put the hours in, you can reap the rewards. It’s never ‘if’ but when.

  You will be back.

  2nd June

  So, I went out to the airport and moved the car further away from where it was parked. Childish, I know, plus it wasn’t even on my schedule … But I had to feel like I was doing something. Sitting here, left behind and twiddling my thumbs was driving me crazy. Now I’m struck by the worry you might notice, or worse – that I was caught on CCTV. But I have to calm down. It’s not like I stole it. No one is going to sit through hours of tapes just for that. But I can’t be so reckless again. I must stick with the plan; I mustn’t deviate again. No matter what.

  3rd June

  Feeling calmer now. Yesterday was the worst, but I have managed to get my thoughts back under control … though I am still restless. I soothe myself by going through my plans. I have a folder on my desktop dedicated to this project, complete with schedules, spreadsheets, even saved emails and phone recordings. I like to keep meticulous records anyway, but given the sensitive nature of this task, I must be extra careful. I have been deleting everything from the rest of my computer just in case. I found some nerd on an internet forum. He was only too happy to meet me in a backstreet pub and discuss the finer points of black-hat cyber security for fifty quid. He looked like he hadn’t gone outside in about a year, lank-haired, pale and blinking. He told me about the cache – a digital shadow of everything you do online, basically – and how to get rid of stuff from it. He taught me how to hide the location of my computer and even how to make it look like someone else’s. Yes, very useful indeed.

  You’ll be back in a few days and then I can begin in earnest.

  You’re not going to know what’s hit you.

  Seven

  ‘Cheers!’

  Sebastian clinked his glass with Lily’s, enjoying the rapturous look on her face. It was one of the things he loved about his new wife: her ability to enjoy the moment. It was why he’d wanted no expense spared on their honeymoon.

  ‘This place is gorgeous!’ Lily had exclaimed at the end of their first twenty-four hours, and let out a gratifying squeal as they had strolled, hand in hand, down a fantastically long stretch of a white sandy be
ach.

  Sebastian had spent an age arranging the honeymoon. The fact they wanted to marry soon had proved difficult, since so many resorts were already fully booked. But Sebastian had never shied away from a challenge. Besides, he wanted to outdo Maxwell, who had only taken Lily to Paris for a long weekend. Sebastian knew that would have been impressive enough for her, as she’d grown up in a house where money was always tight. He really wanted to blow her socks off though.

  They’d gone on a small tour that first day. Sebastian had hired a rotund guide, who had regaled them with a full spiel they later joked sounded like he’d lifted wholesale from a website. He’d pointed out the French colonial mansions and told them about the various exotic plants that could be found in the islands’ old botanic gardens.

  After, they’d wandered through an old Indian marketplace. Sebastian had told Lily about the nature walks he’d arranged for them to take through the biodiverse climate, and how they’d be visiting the pristine offshore islands, reachable only via catamaran. Lily was as delighted as he’d hoped she would be.

  Later in the holiday, they’d also viewed imported African animals at Casela, the island’s eco-adventure park. There was time for horse riding, rum tasting and even quad biking.

  But it was Sebastian’s piece de resistance he’d most savoured: swimming with dolphins. To do this had been Lily’s childhood wish. He’d delighted at the childlike wonder in her face when he’d broken to her that this was his plan for that day. Sebastian had thought he’d seen her eyes momentarily go glassy with tears, so like a little girl’s, rather than the thirty-six-year-old woman she was. It made his chest puff up like a pigeon’s.

  Now on their final night in Mauritius, Sebastian could feel his typically British, pale skin glower, as if it retained heat. He felt hot, sweaty and uncomfortable, in comparison to Lily who looked cool and at ease. She was wearing a red skirt and a white peasant blouse that tied together at the bust, accentuating her cleavage in a way that drove him wild.

  ‘Back to reality tomorrow,’ Lily said.

  Her expression was wistful. Sebastian could not help but notice her gaze wander towards her phone, which was sitting on the table next to her hand. A picture of Denny filled the screen – a huge, gaptoothed grin on his little face.

  ‘He’s been fine with his dad.’ Sebastian placed a hand over Lily’s. ‘You’ve spoken to him every day.’

  Lily nodded. ‘Just miss my boy, that’s all.’

  ‘We’ll be back soon,’ he soothed.

  Lily pretend-grimaced. ‘Yup. Back to the grindstone!’

  They would be flying back in fewer than fifteen hours. Half-term holiday over, it was school again on Monday. They’d barely have time to reacclimatise before going back to work and sending Denny back to school. It had seemed like such a good idea when he’d booked the honeymoon, but now, faced with the mammoth journey, Sebastian’s stomach lurched.

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ Sebastian said, for himself as much as for Lily.

  ‘It’s the summer soon,’ Lily smiled beatifically, her head clearly still filled with vacation.

  Sebastian picked at the tablecloth, zoning out a little as his new wife talked about all the things they could do together as a family when the school holidays started. The idea of parks and pets’ corners and laser tag all seemed a little boring to Sebastian, but then he guessed small boys normally liked that kind of thing. Lacking his own father figure, he’d done none of those things as a child. When he was a boy, and was back home from boarding school, he’d been used to accompanying Fran to museums, plays and stately homes. But despite her efforts to give him a grounding in culture, all she had done was instil in Sebastian a love of staying at home, playing music and reading comic books. He made a mental note: he would buy Denny some comic books at the airport – a little present for his new stepchild. He’d be sure to like them. No little boy could resist superheroes.

  ‘Just can’t believe we have to deal with the inspection,’ Lily was saying as he tuned back in.

  He made sympathetic noises. He wasn’t looking forward to that, either. The spectre of the upcoming school inspection was now on the horizon. They’d been due one for a while and he had hoped to get it over with before the wedding. But those government types loved to keep schools and their head teachers guessing. But perhaps it was better that way. It would only be another eight weeks before the summer; then they could have a nice, relaxed time, their first long break living together.

  Sebastian did not bother putting the empty bottle back in the ice bucket. A short, conscientious waiter swept by almost instantly to pick it up, an unspoken question on his tanned face. Sebastian shook his head: no more wine. He indicated for more water, instead. The young waiter smiled and was back again quickly, bringing a big, cool jug of water, with slices of fresh lemon floating in it.

  Lily poured herself a large glass. ‘Maybe we should go on a detox. No booze until the end of term?’

  ‘Is that code for we are going on a detox, Mrs Adair?’ he grinned.

  Lily laughed, then pulled a mock-serious face. ‘Well, I have to look after you now, don’t I? It’s my job.’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ replied Sebastian, playing along. ‘And I have to do what you say. Like they say, “Happy wife, happy life”!’

  Lily’s eyes sparkled. ‘Can I have that in writing?’

  ‘I think you already did, Mrs Adair. Remember the wedding, barely a week ago?’ Sebastian laughed.

  Lily grinned and raised her water glass in a toast. ‘Okay, then … To a happy wife and a happy life.’

  ‘Forever.’ Sebastian clinked his glass against hers.

  Eight

  We arrived back in the UK to find June had arrived, but had failed to clear away the ominous clouds we thought we’d left behind on May bank holiday. There was a metallic taste to the air: a storm coming.

  I rolled my neck and shoulders as I waited for Sebastian to bring the car round to the pickup point. Similarly tired and jet-lagged people trudged past me out of the white halls of the terminal, dragging trolleys of luggage. A couple of kids were piled on top of one, sucking their thumbs, eyelids heavy. The older one, a girl, had her arm across her little brother, protective.

  Not for the first time, I let thoughts of a brother or sister for Denny wash over me. Though I’d never felt neglected when my parents were still alive, I felt the absence of a sibling keenly now. Triss was the nearest thing I had to a sister, but we didn’t have the shared genes and experiences that people growing up in the same family unit do. What I wouldn’t have given to have a sister in my bridal suite, too. Or a brother, so a man could have taken me down the aisle as tradition demanded.

  But perhaps that was my baggage. Maybe thoughts of siblings would never enter Denny’s head. Besides, I’d had a difficult pregnancy – and an awful labour. And thanks to Maxwell, it had been hard to juggle a career and parenting even with only the one kid. I couldn’t fathom how other working mums managed with two or more.

  I’d seen my way through it all, though. I remembered how proud Dad had been when I got into university – one of the first in my family. Because he was so well off, everyone assumed Maxwell had paid my fees; but no, I’d shouldered the debt myself and managed a part-time job at the same time as my studies. I’d wanted to do it all on my own. Maybe even before Denny, I’d somehow realised my days with Maxwell were numbered. This may have been why I’d gone on to complete an MA in education through the Open University when I was pregnant. I’d felt a need for my own career, but perhaps what I was unconciously looking for was an escape route.

  It had worked – not just for me, but for Triss too. Triss had been one of those lost kids, the type who couldn’t see her way through without a trusted ally to run every decision past. Her own parents had been useless drunks, so she’d been at my house every night after school when Dad was at work; and most weekends. She’d stuck to me like glue all the way through school, and worked at the hospital canteen with me too – which was where I met
Maxwell.

  When I applied to study education at university and then to do my teacher training, Triss announced she was doing the same. We both graduated together. Our only time apart was our first year as newly qualified teachers, when Triss had had to move to Reading for a job. She’d been as homesick as hell, so the moment a position opened up at my school – Avonwood – she applied for it. Of course she got it. As scatty as she was, Triss was a great teacher and had a brilliant rapport with the kids, even though she always insisted she hated them. The end result was that we were back in each other’s pockets again – just like we always had been. The only difference now was that I had a new husband. But Triss seemed to accept Sebastian. And he her. Anything else would have made my life very difficult. I wouldn’t have been without Triss. And I was certain she couldn’t do without me.

  Sebastian drew up in the car at last. Grabbing the suitcases from me as I rolled the trolley back, he frowned. ‘I swear the car wasn’t that far away last week. I reckon someone moved it to the furthest car park!’

  Exhausted, I smiled anyway. ‘As if! It’s just cos you’re more tired now than last week.’

  Sebastian affected a mock strong-man pose. ‘Well I better limber up if I’m carrying you across the threshold.’

  ‘Are you saying I’m heavy?’ I said with pretend outrage.

  Sebastian planted a kiss on my forehead and we clambered into the car. I saw his sleepy eyes twinkle as he adjusted the rear-view mirror.

  ‘Let’s go and get that lad of ours, shall we?’ he grinned.

  Warmth flooded through me. Not your lad. Ours, he’d said.

  Nine

  Outside Maxwell’s home, Sebastian let the car coast to a halt then opened his door before Lily could even get her seatbelt off.