Do No Harm

by L. V. Hay

Sebastian waited for Lily to return to his mother’s all afternoon. When it became clear that she wasn’t going to, he called her on her mobile, then at the maisonette. Both lines just rang, and he didn’t leave messages – he didn’t know what to say.

  Unease prickled through him as he stood in the kitchen, his fingers drumming on the pristine countertop. Was this the end of them … already? A hard ball of fear formed in his throat; his stomach twisted. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not when they’d barely begun!

  Sebastian had always thought marriages ended up exploding with the same kind of fanfare with which they began. The idea that his marriage to Lily had limped its way to failure within twelve weeks, withering away and dying quietly, just seemed wrong.

  As Lily’s phone went to voicemail over and over again, Sebastian found himself spinning like a top, his mood flying through emotions one by one, from abject despair to quiet reproach and back again. He beat himself up, too. He was being ridiculous! He and Lily had gone through so much, there was no way a stupid argument about his mother’s eyebrows was going to finish them off. The thought raised a smile to Sebastian’s lips. Eyebrows. For God’s sake.

  Sebastian just needed to sit tight. Lily had left Denny with him, after all. He was reading it all wrong: leaving the child was a sign of her regard for him as her husband and Denny’s stepfather. Lily was an exemplary parent. There was no way she would abandon her son and go off to … well, where?

  He took in several deep breaths. He had to be logical, rational. Lily lived at the maisonette, with him. She had given up her small flat on the other side of Epsom about three weeks before they had married. She had nowhere else to go, unless she wanted to sleep on the sofa at Triss’s or her cousin Maya’s. They also shared a bank account, so he knew she had not taken out any large sums that afternoon: he had an app on his phone that would have notified him.

  Sebastian finally managed to calm the twisting knots inside his stomach. The past three months had taken their toll on all of them. Lily had been so strong through all of this. She just needed to blow off some steam. Sebastian was panicking without good reason. This was a blip – granted, another one – but they would get through it.

  They had to.

  He ambled back from the kitchen to the living room. He watched Denny and his mother from the doorway. His mother was teaching the little boy how to play Happy Families. She’d taken the pack of cards from the small bureau next to the magazine rack and now they were engrossed in a game.

  ‘You have the card I want,’ Fran prompted the little boy.

  But Denny just stared at her, swinging his little legs on the chair next to the card table. His gaze wandered over to the television, where a colourful game show still played with the sound off.

  ‘Dennis, pay attention. You have to give the card I want to me,’ Fran tutted in exasperation; then, as if she felt Sebastian’s gaze on her, she looked up and smiled. ‘Honestly, this one doesn’t catch on any quicker than you did.’

  She smiled and got up, walking stiffly to the windows. Sebastian watched Denny match all the colours of the cards instead, the official game forgotten. They were ornate and beautifully illustrated. Each one was embossed on the back with gold leaf. Fran’s grandfather had brought them back for her from a trip to India when she was a child. Sebastian recalled his mother dealing the cards every rainy day after dinner when he was home from school. She was always meticulous in ensuring both of them had an equal number. As Sebastian grew older, he’d wanted to play different games, but his mother would purse her lips and do that little shake of her head. They were her cards, she would remind him.

  One day, when he was about eleven, Sebastian brought his own cards home. They were part of a cheap pack bought from the local shop with his allowance when he was at boarding school. He’d delighted in playing games like Go Fish and poker with the boys after lights out – torches on, voices low to avoid detection by their house supervisor.

  He’d wanted to teach his mother these games, but she’d listened to his suggestion, her face blank, then she had simply taken the cards and placed them in one of the bureau’s slim drawers. She had not brought them out again. If he’d been a gambling man, Sebastian would have bet real money they were still there, untouched and covered in dust, the best part of twenty years later.

  Suddenly, Sebastian couldn’t wait any longer. He looked at his watch: nearly eight o’clock. Even if Lily didn’t want to speak to him just yet, she would need Denny back for bath and bedtime. He called his stepson to him and, after assuring his mother he’d be back in half an hour or so, bundled the little boy into his car.

  ‘Hello? Lily!’

  Sebastian turned the light on in the dim hall. As usual, Denny bounded up the stairs ahead of him. The little boy was showing no signs of slowing down for the day. Sebastian heard the clatter of Denny’s shoes on the tiles above him before he made it to the top.

  ‘Mummy!’

  Denny’s exclamation made Sebastian’s stomach settle somewhat. So, she was here. Sebastian emerged into the dim light of the small kitchen-dining area, where the grey fingers of dusk protruded through the skylight. Lily sat at the table, a bottle of wine in front of her, a half-empty glass in her hands.

  ‘You finally made it home, then?’ Her voice echoed his own thoughts, though it was loaded with sarcasm.

  ‘I told Mum I’d be back in half an hour.’ Sebastian tried hard to keep his tone level. He didn’t want her to think he was ready for a fight.

  It didn’t work.

  ‘Yes. Can’t keep mummy dearest waiting!’ Lily brought the large glass to her lips, knocking back the wine as if it were a vodka shot. Then self-loathing seemed to hit her full on; her face twisted in disgust at her own words. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean that. None of this is Fran’s fault. It’s … his.’

  As Lily poured another glass, Denny regarded her with a tiny frown. It was clear the little boy had never seen his mother like this before, all sharp edges and bitterness. Lily seemed to realise and looked up, smiling. She held out her arms for the boy, who immediately folded himself into her embrace. She hung on to him like a lifebuoy.

  ‘Hey, sport, go get your PJs on.’ Sebastian kept his voice light and gave his stepson a reassuring smile.

  Denny glanced towards Sebastian, suspicion written all over his little face, shoulders hunched. He opened his mouth as if to argue, but then decided better of it. He traipsed off in the direction of his bedroom.

  As soon as he was gone, Sebastian attempted to take the bottle of wine away from his wife. ‘Come on, I’ll make you some coffee,’ Sebastian said in what he imagined was his most soothing voice.

  ‘You will frigging not.’ Lily grabbed the bottle back. ‘How drunk do you think I am?’

  Sebastian just shrugged.

  Lily shook her head at him in disbelief. ‘This is my first one!’ She sipped her full glass, then, obviously remembering she’d just necked the first one, said, ‘All right, second. But it’s been a shit day. For Christ’s sake, Sebastian, I knew Denny would be back tonight. I’m not going to get paralytic, am I?’

  ‘If this is about earlier…’ Sebastian sat down on one of the kitchen stools. He was disappointed Lily was still so angry; he’d thought she would have calmed down by now.

  But Lily barely looked at him. ‘God, it’s always about you, isn’t it?’ Her tone was final, rhetorical. As if there was nothing to discuss.

  Perhaps she really had had enough of all this? Maybe she wanted out. Sebastian wanted to fall on his sword, so he could know one way or the other, but he couldn’t bring himself to conjure up the words.

  Lily glanced up from her glass, taking in his stricken expression. ‘You didn’t believe me.’

  ‘You didn’t believe me,’ Sebastian countered, though a pang hit him as he said it: she had never lied to him, like he had to her.

  A sad, sardonic smile pulled at his wife’s lip. ‘Maxwell’s really done a number on us, hasn’t he?’

  ‘We can get p
ast this.’ Sebastian sounded stronger than he felt.

  Lily blew out her cheeks. ‘Can we?’

  Dread settled, brick-like, on his shoulders. That familiar ball of pain flowered into life, travelling its way into his throat. ‘Of course we can.’

  Lily brought her hands to her face. For a moment, Sebastian thought she was crying. That would be promising; that would mean she still cared, surely? But when she took them away again, he saw her eyes were dry. She was just weary. Which was far worse.

  Denny appeared again, in his pyjamas. Lily forced a smile and abandoned her wine. ‘Hey, champ. Let’s get you to bed, shall we?’

  Sebastian understood; he was dismissed. With a heavy heart, he got up from the stool and made his way to the top of the stairs. He looked back to see Lily piggy-backing Denny towards the bedroom, his legs and arms around her waist and neck like a baby monkey.

  Before she could disappear from sight, Sebastian called after her:

  ‘Lily … I’m sorry.’

  She stopped and turned. Denny’s head was buried in her shoulder. She flashed Sebastian a grim smile.

  ‘Yeah, me too.’

  Thirty-nine

  I’d barely got Denny into bed before the doorbell rang again. Denny had been drifting off, but at the sound of the bell, he sat bolt upright in the bed, eyes bright and beady. I swore under my breath as he bounced straight out of bed and started rummaging in his toy box.

  ‘Denny! Get back in bed.’ Even as the words passed my lips, I knew they were futile.

  ‘But, Mummy, I’m not tired.’ Denny pouted.

  If I wanted any peace, I knew I would have to just let him get on with it. After all the events of such a horrific day, I wasn’t likely to get any sleep anyway, so what harm would it do? I made an executive decision, moving back to the bedroom door, towards the hall.

  ‘Okay, fine! Stay in here, though, or you’re in trouble. Understand?’

  Denny nodded happily, pulling toy cars and his race track from the toy box.

  I didn’t bother answering the doorbell with the intercom. I didn’t want to let her think she could just wander up the stairs and back into our lives. I passed through the kitchen-diner and went down to the dim hall leading out to the front door. It had no glass in the front, so I couldn’t see for sure who it was, but I just knew: Triss. The fury I’d felt earlier was still buzzing in my veins, I had to say my piece.

  Opening the front door, there she was – under a pool of orange light shining down the alley from the streetlamp by the betting shop.

  She was wearing clothes this time: purple converse with a denim jacket over a short day dress decorated with neon pink pineapples that clashed with her red hair. Her shoulders were hunched, her arms folded, both her feet facing inwards like a sulking teen. Her eyes were puffy, like she’d been crying.

  ‘I can explain…’ she whined.

  I matched her cliché with one of my own: I slammed the door hard in her face, leaving her on the other side.

  ‘Lily! Please, let’s talk about this?’ Triss’s pale fingers appeared through the letterbox, a childish plea.

  ‘It’s too late!’

  As I said the words, I felt the weight of history between us unravel, falling into a tangled heap: we’d been like sisters. No, we’d been more than that: we’d found each other in the chaos of childhood and held onto each other throughout the decades, without needing to rely on the bond of blood.

  ‘You’ve got the wrong end of the stick…’ Triss wailed. She left her fingers in the letterbox, trusting me not to slam the metal down on them. She knew me as well as she thought; I would never do that.

  ‘So, you didn’t have sex?’ There was an absurd part of me that hoped it was all some kind of big mistake: I hadn’t found my best friend, naked, with my ex-husband or involved in his ridiculous plot. ‘How long have you been reporting back to Maxwell?’

  Triss gulped back more tears. ‘Look, if you just let me in…?’

  ‘Was it worth it?’ I spat.

  A trite old saying appeared in my brain: Friends are the family you choose. I’d chosen Triss, I’d cherished her. I thought she’d felt the same way about me. Yet all Maxwell had had to do was click his fingers and she’d fallen into his bed and betrayed me, even helping him come between me and Sebastian as part of his sick plan.

  ‘Please … listen to me!’

  ‘Listen to your excuses, you mean.’

  I suddenly felt bone-weary. We were acting out some kind of scene, courtesy of Maxwell. I was overwhelmed by it all. What was the bloody point? We might be back at school in a week or so, working together, but other than that, I was done with Triss.

  I moved away from the door, back towards the stairs. She must have heard my footsteps on the creaky old steps.

  ‘No, no Lil! Don’t go. Please. We have to talk … tonight!’

  Though I’d resolved not to look back, I couldn’t resist: Triss was now beseeching me through the letterbox. Even so, I didn’t take the bait.

  ‘Piss off, Triss.’

  I turned my back on my oldest friend and walked heavily upwards, all the while Triss’s pained pleas landing on my back.

  ‘I’ll fix this, Lily. I swear to God, I will fix it…’

  As I reached the top, I turned the light off, plunging the stairwell into darkness.

  Forty

  Sebastian returned to his mother’s home in a daze. Hearing the abject weariness in Lily’s voice at the maisonette had really shaken him. There was a sharp pain in his chest; his head banged in rhythm with his heartbeat; the back of his mouth felt dry and sour. Was this what heartbreak felt like? The realisation that he’d let his marriage slip through his fingers, without seeing the signs, the opportunities to turn things around. Disappointment, dread and devastation lanced their way through Sebastian’s body one after another.

  Anger came next in the kaleidoscope of thoughts swirling through his mind. How could Lily have let Maxwell come between them like this? It was true her ex’s vendetta had been sustained, and his mother’s cancer had been a dreadful blow coming so soon after it. But Lily had pledged her vows to Sebastian, for better or worse. Okay, neither of them knew it would be worse before it got better, but they could not be the first married couple in the world to get off to a rocky start.

  Sebastian strode through to Fran’s living room, grabbing his father’s crystal decanter off the shelf. He poured himself a large measure of whisky, then stepped over to the large patio window. He glanced at the clock: it was coming up to ten p.m. The immaculate garden was dark; he could see only his reflection in the glass. He looked dishevelled, five-day old stubble on his cheeks. His clothes were rumpled, his hair hadn’t seen a comb in days. His shoulders were hunched and there was a deep crease in his forehead. Everything about him yelled stress and frustration.

  It was like looking at his father’s photograph in its silver-plated frame on the mantelpiece. It was the only one not on the wall. He moved over to the picture, picking it up. Sebastian could not remember a time he hadn’t looked at this picture, trying to feel a connection with the man he’d never known, trapped under the glass.

  It was Fran’s favourite for some reason. Perhaps she thought Jasper looked authoratitive, commanding. To Sebastian, his father looked as bad as Sebastian now felt. He was staring directly into the camera lens; his expression seemed to be one of suppressed anger. He was trying to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. Sebastian had often wondered why his father seemed so unhappy in this picture. Was it marriage? Was this the one lesson he could have taken from his dead father, if he’d paid greater attention to the lines on his face, his pain captured in a photograph?

  Don’t get married, son. You’ll regret it.

  As soon as this thought surfaced, Sebastian chuckled. He was seeing things that weren’t there. His father had worked long hours as a surgeon; maybe he’d just been exhausted. Or maybe he’d just not wanted his photo taken at that particular moment. His mother had always said the
y’d been very happy together.

  Sebastian and Lily could be again, too. All he needed to do was not pressurise her. That was kryptonite for all relationships recovering from a crisis. Sebastian just had to show himself as worthy, steadfast; prove to Lily – and Denny – that they could depend on him again. And what better way than to do something for the boy?

  He ambled back into the kitchen and retrieved Denny’s broken phone from where he’d placed it earlier in the day on the countertop near the bread bin. In the furore, it had been forgotten. Sebastian smiled to himself. All he needed to do was fix it and he could legitimately go over tomorrow, after Lily had calmed down. She would be glad to see him, relieved that he wasn’t staying away.

  Outside, Sebastian could hear a fox barking and the faraway swish of traffic out towards the common. He turned the phone over, noting its frozen screen. It was the same make and model as his own, so he pressed down on the large button and held it there for ten seconds, forcing a hard reboot. The phone beeped and the start-up animation began. Sebastian smiled to himself. Lily was so impatient, ten seconds was probably more like five to her. No wonder it hadn’t rebooted.

  He put his whisky glass in the dishwasher as the screen’s various sections and features came back to life. When it was ready, he swished a finger across the screen as it prompted him to choose the date, its language, region and backup status. Sebastian followed the prompts. Then he pressed OK, expecting that to be the end of it. But now another screen popped up straight away:

  RESET GEOFENCE? Y/N

  Sebastian liked to think he had his finger on the pulse, but he had no clue what a ‘geofence’ was. Perhaps it was something to do with one of the forest of apps on the phone? Sebastian noted Denny had downloaded more than twenty, most of them games in primary colours and with cartoon faces.

  Sebastian pulled his own phone from his pocket and googled the term. The definition flashed up:

  A geofence is a virtual barrier. Programmes that incorporate geofencing allow an administrator to set up triggers so when a device enters (or exits) the boundaries defined by the administrator, a text message or email alert is sent.