Do No Harm

by L. V. Hay

  ‘I’ll go and get him,’ he said.

  He saw Lily sigh with relief. ‘Thanks.’

  She was tired, and he didn’t want her upset by the likes of Maxwell on their first night as a family. He knew that try as she might, Lily could never quite keep from being irritated by her ex’s barbed comments.

  Sebastian gave his new bride a reassuring smile, got out and walked towards the pathway.

  Maxwell’s home was a well-laid out town house in a west suburb of Epsom. Surrounded by tall leylandii, it was private, with large front and back gardens. It was the perfect family home, but then Maxwell prided himself on keeping up with the Joneses, even if his private behaviour left a lot to be desired.

  Sebastian undid the latch on the garden gate, leaving it open behind him as he trudged towards the porch. He opened the outer door – there was no need for him to ring the bell, as inside, there was a scrabble of claws as a large animal bounded at the glass inner door: Ginny, Maxwell’s mad collie, had erupted in a flurry of barks, alerting her owner to Sebastian’s presence.

  The door opened, letting out a waft of dog. Without a greeting, Maxwell launched straight into conflict, his voice appearing almost before the rest of him: ‘Bit late, aren’t you? I was expecting you nearly an hour ago.’

  Maxwell’s hands were gripping Denny’s little shoulders as the boy stood in front of him. The significance of the gesture was not lost on Sebastian: This is mine. Denny stood between the two men, staring up at them with wide eyes.

  Sebastian swallowed down a sarcastic retort. ‘We did say between midday and one.’

  ‘Really? Midday, Lily said.’ Maxwell smiled, but there was a steely glint in his eye. Before he released Denny’s shoulders, he gestured to his cheek. ‘Give Daddy a kiss, son.’

  Daddy. Son. Words chosen for Sebastian’s benefit. Sebastian averted his eyes from the display of affection, then stepped back, allowing Denny to pass.

  ‘Well, thanks for having him,’ Sebastian said, careful to keep his tone neutral.

  But Maxwell was not having that. ‘You don’t have to thank me. I’m his father. I’m supposed to look after him.’

  You said it, Sebastian wanted to fire back, but resisted.

  He turned on his heel and extended a hand towards Denny. But the little boy jerked away, giving him a wide berth. Sebastian sighed, careful not to look back; he knew he’d see satisfaction on Maxwell’s face if he did.

  Denny’s face, on the other hand, was drawn into a scowl. The child seemed different from the week before, more closed off. He often came back from Maxwell’s in this mood, almost like he needed to re-establish his connection to Lily. Sebastian supposed most kids from broken families had the same problem. How would he know? Sebastian had never had one dad, never mind two.

  ‘Hi Denny, I missed you!’ Lily said. Sebastian could hear the warmth in his new wife’s voice at seeing her son.

  But Denny barely acknowledged his mother as he got in the car.

  ‘Did you miss me?’ she asked, her pleasure clearly dented.

  The little boy shrugged, staring out the window as Sebastian started the car.

  He could see Lily trying hard not let the hurt show on her face. He smiled at her, tight-lipped, as if to say, Kids, eh?

  Sebastian pulled the handbrake on. ‘Home sweet home!’

  Lily flashed him a weary, jet-lagged smile. Sebastian’s – and now Lily’s – snug little maisonette was near Epsom Playhouse, in a converted Magdalene house. Like so many listed buildings, the only direct access was on foot; they had to park in the car park behind the building, at the rear of a couple of exclusive boutiques and an American-style ice-cream parlour. On bright days, the sun shining through the parlour made the silhouette of the cartoon polar bear on its back window tread its way across the courtyard, until three o’ clock, when it retreated again, back into the shadows.

  ‘Hurry up!’ Denny opened the car door and practically fell out onto the tarmac.

  ‘Hang on!’ Lily chastised as he raced off towards the alleyway that led to the maisonette’s front door, halfway down. Dark with half-timbered walls, the alleyway was paved with slate. The little boy waved, a silhouette, the light behind him. Just a few feet from the neon signs of the high street, it was like stepping into another time.

  The luggage retrieved friom the car, moments later, Sebastian grappled with the keys to the front door. Lily hovered on the doorstep of the maisonette, a bag on one elbow, another between her feet. The long flight and the thought of sorting school stuff out for the next day felt like a giant invisible hand pressing them both down from above. Finally, the key turned and the door opened. Lily began to walk inside.

  ‘…Wait!’ Grinning, Sebastian opened his arms up for her. Lily laughed, put one hand on his shoulder and hopped up into his arms, throwing hers around his neck.

  ‘I love you,’ she said.

  Sebastian rested his forehead against hers. ‘And I love you.’

  Lily was no waif, but she was trim and light, so it was not difficult to carry her across the threshold into the tiny, dark hallway. He’d been expecting the stale air you always met when a home had been locked up for days, but now an oddly sweet smell came with it. Like rotting fruit. His stomach plummeted. Could a pipe have burst while they were away? They had no downstairs neighbour in the bottom flat, so no one would have known.

  ‘So. Home sweet home!’ Sebastian tried to keep his voice bright.

  ‘Come on, then!’ Denny pushed past Sebastian, his trainers clumping on the wooden staircase. Before the little boy could ascend, Sebastian blocked his way with one arm. Lily slid from his arms, back onto her feet.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Lily said, then followed his pointing finger. ‘Where’s the stairgate?’

  Sebastian didn’t answer. ‘Just wait here.’

  He thumped his way up the stairs, purposely making his steps loud. If there was still someone inside, he wanted to make sure they took their chances and escaped out of a window, hopefully across the kitchen extension roof on the second storey. Jet-lagged, he didn’t fancy his chances against a burglar.

  When he made it to the top of the stairs, he let out a groan. ‘Oh my God…’

  At first, his brain could not process what his eyes were seeing. Then, bit by bit, he picked through the chaos: the broken glass bottles and jars that had been thrown across the floor tiles, jams and condiments mixing in gelatinous puddles. The bin had been overturned, onto the floor and the sofa. Bottles of cordial had been emptied over the surfaces. Books and papers were everywhere, scattered like giant confetti.

  The maisonette was well and truly trashed.

  ‘What is it?’ Lily came thundering up behind him. As she took in the destruction, a hand flew to her mouth. ‘No! Who would do such a thing?’

  Sebastian picked his way through the the devastation as best as he could and rushed up the stairs to the second storey, taking a glimpse at his and Lily’s bedroom as he passed. It was a sorry state in there too, all their clothes pulled from drawers and the wardrobe, plus a can of red emulsion had been poured over the double bed. More paint had been splashed around the bathroom, their toiletries squeezed from bottles and tubes into the sink and bath.

  Sebastian opened Denny’s door, expecting the window to be open. There was a flat roof beneath the little boy’s window, which was why he had chosen to move the child in there. It lacked the perilous drop should Denny get ideas about climbing on the window ledge.

  A major disadvantage though, was the fact that it was also a security issue. A determined burglar could shimmy up onto the roof, making breaking in to the maisonette relatively easy from this side. Had he remembered to shut the window properly before they went away? Perhaps not. A horrible thought occurred to him: had someone been watching the maisonette, and taken the opportunity while they were away to do all this.

  But why?

  Yet the window didn’t look like it was open. He strode over and pulled at it, expecting it to yield immediately.
It didn’t.

  As Sebastian turned from the window, he took in Denny’s room. He was taken aback. Unlike the rest of the maisonette, it was pristine. The little boy’s bed was made; his books and DVDs were lined up next to the television. His toys were all in the toy box, exactly where Lily had thrown them in a hurry before the wedding and their honeymoon. She hadn’t wanted to come home to a mess.

  Then the realisation dawned on Sebastian. Maxwell. Denny was his child, so why would he trash his own son’s room? Anger now wound tightly around Sebastian’s stomach. A flash of Maxwell’s hands on Denny’s shoulders again: This is mine.

  Maxwell had done this.

  Ten

  I hurried Denny to his room, the only safe place in the whole of the maisonette. I told him he could play on his Xbox as long as he wanted. He looked confused as he juggled the pleasure of more games time with the chaos he’d seen downstairs. I kissed him and shut his door; there wasn’t much else I could do short of ringing Maxwell to take him – and I wasn’t going to do that. I was just grateful to be able to distract Denny and keep him occupied. He’d started bawling at the sight of his home in such disarray and I didn’t blame him. I wanted to cry myself.

  Denny settled, I went downstairs to find Sebastian on the phone to the police. Two uniformed officers turned up about forty minutes later, their radios buzzing with static as they took in the destruction we’d had to stand about in as we waited.

  ‘And nothing was taken?’ The first one was much older than his colleague, and tall and thin with it.

  ‘Nothing.’ After we’d got over the shock, we’d checked for everything of value. Both our laptops, Denny’s Xbox, the television, all Sebastian’s gadgets and everything else remained where they were supposed to be.

  The police made notes, took a look around, asked a few questions, then told us it was probably kids. They asked if we were sure we’d shut the front door properly when we’d left the morning of the wedding. Apparently that was the most likely way they’d gained entrance.

  ‘Of course I closed the front door properly!’

  Sebastian had been the one here last. I had stayed at Triss’s the night before the ceremony. But he couldn’t consciously remember locking the door. That was enough for the police. I had the feeling they were looking for the easiest explanation.

  The police then asked if we had any enemies; Sebastian dutifully shook his head … no. He glanced at me and I knew what he was thinking. When he’d come downstairs earlier, bursting with his theory that Maxwell had trashed the maisonette, I’d refused to believe it. Why would Maxwell ruin his child’s home? It didn’t make any sense.

  Once the police had left, I called Triss – to tell her we were back, and to tell her what we’d come back to. She agreed with me. ‘That doesn’t sound like something Maxwell would do,’ she said when I mentioned Sebastian’s suspicions.

  Triss had known Maxwell as long as I had; she’d even been serving at the till in the hospital canteen when he’d appeared to pay for his latte.

  ‘This and … your friend.’ Maxwell had told her, smirking playfully and pointing to me.

  I’d been presiding over the fried eggs, sausages and bacon under the white-hot heating lamps, moving the older ones to the front with a spatula. I’d even looked behind me, sure he must have meant someone else.

  Triss had snorted with laughter. ‘She’s available tonight,’ she said.

  I abandoned my spatula and stood up, hands on hips. ‘Oh, am I?’

  ‘Yup. You can pick her up at eight.’ Triss didn’t even look at me, just accepted Maxwell’s business card, as well as the pocketful of change he dumped in her palm.

  Maxwell looked though. Intently, as if drinking me in. Those blue eyes had captivated me back then. ‘See you at eight then, beautiful.’

  Despite myself, a tingle worked its way through my body. Even wearing a hairnet and a tabard covered in grease stains, I did feel beautiful in that second. That’s what Maxwell could do.

  Triss had appeared by my side. ‘Oh. My. God. Dr Dish luuuurves you!’

  ‘Pretty sure he’s a consultant.’ I said, my tone lofty.

  Triss waved the card in my face. ‘So, you don’t want his number, then?’

  I’d snatched it from her fingtertips.

  ‘I know, right?’ I said now, as I picked my way through the detritus and sticky substances in the kitchen. This clean-up was going to take hours. We needed all hands on deck if we were going to get the place straight before school the next day. ‘Would you mind coming over and giving us a hand?’

  ‘Oh babe, I can’t.’ Triss lamented. ‘Much as I’d love to play Stig of the Dump with you, guess who left her marking to the last minute this half-term? I’ll be up till midnight as it is!’

  I sighed, good-natured with it. It was typical of Triss. She wished me goodbye and good luck. I said the same to her, before rejoining Sebastian in our trashed bedroom. I felt my stomach plummet. New brides were meant to come back to maybe a few rose petals on their bed, not red emulsion splattered everywhere. Sebastian saw my face and put a consoling arm around me.

  ‘It’s not as bad as it looks.’ Sebastian tried to force authority into his voice. He obviously wanted to believe it as much as me.

  I gritted my teeth for the task ahead. ‘Let’s just get it done.’

  Resolving to be positive, we attacked the mess with gusto. As I threw empty bottles and other rubbish into black bin liners, Sebastian vaccumed behind me. I stripped the bed of ruined linen and Sebastian aired out the room, then scrubbed at a suspicious stain on the carpet.

  ‘You know, I still think it was Maxwell,’ Sebastian said, still crouched on his hands and knees. ‘Because Denny’s room was the only one that wasn’t trashed…’

  I just couldn’t reconcile this with the Maxwell I knew. ‘Maxwell is super-clean and finicky – he’s a surgeon! The idea of him wrecking the place – spreading filth everywhere? No. I don’t think so. It was kids or someone, and they were interrupted before they got to Denny’s room.’

  ‘I know I locked that front door. I always do,’ Sebastian insisted. ‘Whoever did this had a key.’ Sebastian tried his best to keep his tone from sounding accusatory. ‘Did you give him a key, maybe? For emergencies, with Denny? I won’t be angry, I promise.’

  Irritation lanced through me. ‘Of course I haven’t given Maxwell a key. What do you take me for?’

  The doorbell rang. We looked at each other in surprise. Who the hell could that be?

  ‘I’ll get it.’ I said, clumping down the stairs to the first floor, then down to the front door. I wrenched it open, expecting to see the police there again; maybe they’d forgotten something.

  But it was Fran, her arms wrapped around a gorgeous bouquet of white roses.

  ‘Oh, hello my dear! I won’t stop, I know you’re bound to be busy, with school and whatnot starting again tomorrow. I just thought I’d drop these off – a little welcome-home gift for you both.’

  I stared from her to the flowers, and started to cry.

  Ten minutes later, Fran had rolled up her sleeves to enter the fray and help us put the maisonette to rights.

  She talked about her parents and ‘Blitz spirit’, and set about clearing up and fixing. It turned out she was armed with a variety of home remedies and little-known cures for the problems we were facing – such as getting rid of the paint in the bathroom.

  ‘A little surgical spirit should do the trick,’ she said, bending over the bath and scrubbing with a tough sponge. She sat back on her heels and admired her handiwork: the paint spatters really were disappearing. ‘Any remaining stains, we can use wire wool dipped in wax, as long as we scrub lightly…’

  As Fran stood, she staggered backwards. Alarmed, I rushed forwards, catching her elbows with my hands to steady her.

  ‘I’ll scrub lightly,’ I said, taking the white spirit from her.

  ‘I’m fine! The blood rushed to my head, that’s all.’ Fran’s manner was abrupt. But I recogni
sed why instantly: she was embarrassed.

  ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

  Fran smiled, though I noted her sunken cheeks, how pale her skin was. She patted my arm. ‘I should be asking you that, dear. What a dreadful welcome home.’

  With Fran’s help – and Denny distracted – by the time it was dark we’d managed to get the place back into a liveable state. As Sebastian had thought, most of it was cosmetic: once we’d got rid of the broken glass, empty bottles and rotting rubbish from the emptied bin, it wasn’t so bad. We could replace the ruined sheets and wash or scrub everything else. I tried not to dwell on our bad luck, or the fact Sebastian must have left the maisonette unsecured. He’d been excited, going to our wedding. But we hadn’t lost anything, except time. It didn’t matter. We had each other and Denny would soon forget this had ever happened. Everything was fine.

  But we couldn’t just accept Fran’s help and then chuck her out, so once everything was straight, Sebastian called for a Chinese takeaway and grabbed a bottle of wine from the corner shop. As we tucked in, I noticed Fran was only toying with her food, twirling noodles around and around her fork. She didn’t lift it to her mouth.

  ‘Not hungry, Fran?’

  She gave me a vague smile, pressing a hand to her perfectly flat stomach. ‘Not really, dear. Dicky tummy. I feel rather bloated, truth be told.’

  ‘Well, you don’t look it.’ Sebastian declared, shovelling egg-fried rice into his mouth. I had to smile at his big appetite. ‘How’s the cough?’

  I raised an eyebrow. Sebastian hadn’t mentioned this to me. Fran kept talking, probably assuming he had.

  ‘Oh you know, darling. If it gets any worse, I’ll be sure to see a doctor, don’t you worry.’ As Sebastian nodded, Fran turned to me. ‘I hear you went swimming with dolphins?’

  I was surprised she knew already. But maybe Sebastian had texted her, or had told her the plan before we’d gone? I grinned at the memory. Before I could reply, Denny interjected.

  ‘I want to swim with sharks.’ Denny speared a prawn ball with his fork.