If He Wakes

by If He Wakes (retail) (epub)

  They left at that point, but not before promising that we'd see them again. Soon.

  I suppose I was expecting them to arrest someone. To say that they’d seen what I had, what the hotel staff had, but instead they’d confirmed that it was just Phil’s car. I repeated it to myself as I let him carry me upstairs, whilst the girls bickered in the kitchen and whilst Della left for the evening, I repeatedly told myself that I was mistaken. It wasn’t Phil that I’d been following, of course it wasn’t Phil! I knew my husband and it wasn’t him. I was being silly; it was the shock of the accident. It wasn’t my husband. It was just his car.

  I let him take me into our en-suite and help me undress and wash. I was a mess, crying and shaking and unable to form clear thoughts; no matter how many times I told myself it was my imagination, each time I looked at his face, I saw it again as I thought I had at the retail park, behind the darkened windscreen. I saw the body fly up in the air, the mess of it on the ground. I saw his face as he drove away. But then, I’d tell myself that it couldn't have been him. This was Phil, my Phil, the man I’d been married to for years. And I'd seen him talk to the police, hand over his train ticket as proof of where he'd been. I wasn't close when the hit and run happened. I was on the hotel car park, metres away.

  I told myself I’d imagined it was Phil, so sure I was following him, I’d convinced myself that I’d seen his face, when I hadn’t at all. When I’d been so far away it was probably impossible. And then the images would replay in my mind all over again and I felt like I was going mad.

  Once I was in bed and settled, we realised we’d forgotten to get my medication from the hospital and he left to collect it. Being alone helped calm me down. I reminded myself of who my husband was. The man I loved. The man I’d been married to for fifteen years, the man who’d liked to read science fiction novels in the bath and had a weakness for chocolate buttons. The man who would choose a night in front of the television over a party, a pint of bitter instead of a glass of champagne. I knew him so well I could order for him at any restaurant, knew which shirt he’d pick out of a line at any department store, which tie. I booked our holidays, chose the decor for the house, organised our lives. He was the quiet one, the one who didn’t do things on impulse or out of character. He wasn’t capable of running someone over and leaving them for dead. That wasn’t the man I’d married and by the time he came back, offering painkillers and a glass of wine, I felt marginally better about it all.

  ‘Here,’ he handed me the wine. ‘You probably shouldn't, but after the day you've had…’

  I didn’t need any encouragement, I took a large gulp to swallow down the pills.

  ‘Good girl,’ he said and smiled. He looked tired, dishevelled. His suit was creased and his hair unkempt. I looked to his collar, open, his tie loose. I noticed the cuffs of his jacket were dirty; he’d folded them up, something I’d never seen him do before. I realised I knew nothing of his colleagues apart from the few that he chose to tell me about. I didn’t know if he worked with a largely female team, if any of them were close, if any of them liaised between the Chester and London office as he did.

  ‘Were you with anyone?’ I asked him quietly, my heart beating, ‘this afternoon? When you were at the train station, were you alone?’

  He tilted his head at my question.

  ‘Tell me the truth,’ I pressed. ‘Phil,’ my voice was shaky, ‘are you having an affair?’

  He let out a bark of raucous laughter, shook his head and then picked up the bottle of pills. ‘What’s in these? What have you just taken?’

  I swallowed. ‘Please,’ I said. ‘Tell me who you were with and where you were today.’

  He stroked my hair then went quiet, a puzzled smile on his lips. ‘You know where I was.’ He let his hand rest on my forehead as if checking my temperature. ‘You feel okay?’

  I didn't answer.

  ‘I got the call from Della.’

  ‘I never meant for Della to call you,’ I interrupted. ‘She’s getting out of hand lately, not listening to me, the other day she went and…’

  ‘I’m glad she called me,’ Phil said. ‘I would’ve been angry if she hadn’t. I was at Crewe train station,’ he went on. ‘Alone. Not yet on the train to London so I didn't get on it. I caught a train back to Chester instead, back to you. Typical that the one day I really need to be home fast is the day my car gets nicked.’ He took one of the smaller pillows and placed it under my cast, checking my face as he did so in case he hurt me. ‘That's when I called the police, and now they're telling me it's been used in some horrendous accident. A hit and run. And at the same place you had your bump. Are you comfortable?’

  ‘But your meeting,’ I said. ‘The big presentation. Weren't you meant to be in London for it? What about Felix? Didn’t you say you couldn’t let him down, that you were doing it together? I thought you were catching an earlier train for that?’

  ‘Presentation got delayed,’ Phil said. ‘Clients cancelled so I caught up on some paperwork at the regional office instead. But what about you?’ he looked at me. ‘Weren't you going with Suzie for her big, exciting meeting? Why were you at the retail park running into people?’

  ‘Checking out venues,’ I lied quickly and then closed my eyes. Before today I'd never lied to Phil intentionally, but then, I'd never thought I’d be wondering if he was having an affair. Never thought I'd see what I did.

  ‘Like what you saw?’

  I blinked rapidly at him.

  ‘The hotel,’ he prompted and I shook my head, a tear falling as I did so.

  ‘Was a bit cheap and nasty.’

  We looked at each other a moment.

  ‘Now,’ Phil went to the door. ‘I need to catch up on a bit of work. Felix has been calling, the presentation was cancelled today but it’s been rescheduled and…’ he held up his hands. ‘Is there anything else I can get for you? I’ll check on the girls, send Katie up to bed.’

  I shook my head and tried a small smile, letting him go.

  It made sense, what he was telling me, it made sense. I listened to the low murmur of his voice downstairs, the girls’ chatter. I heard him laugh with them and I waited for the feeling of relief to wash over me. I reminded myself that it wasn't my husband I'd seen, it wasn't him I'd been following, he wasn’t having an affair. What I’d seen on Twitter was a mistake, most likely Della. Most probably her arranging things she shouldn’t be and I waited for a feeling of calm, for my heart to stop galloping and my head to stop swimming. I drank the wine until the concoction of alcohol and medication made me drowsy and repeatedly told myself that it wasn't Phil. It wasn't Phil.

  Wednesday

  Light showers with a chance of snow.

  4

  Rachel

  ‘You awake?’ He was dressed. Wearing a suit. He kissed me and I smelt his aftershave. ‘How did you sleep? Was it terrible?’

  I licked my lips. My mouth was dry, my tongue sticking. I tried so sit up and then winced at the unfamiliar weight of the cast holding me down.

  ‘Let me help.’ He lifted me up, putting pillows behind me and I looked at the alarm clock. It was ten past eight. Phil laughed at my expression.

  ‘Thought you needed a lie in, we've all been creeping around trying not to wake you.’ He passed me a cup of coffee and I took a sip, the warm liquid easing the discomfort in my mouth.

  ‘You should've woken me,’ I said. ‘I can't believe I've slept so long.’ I looked again at the bedside clock as if it were a lie. Usually I'm first up, downstairs putting on coffee and fixing my list for the day, long before anyone else in the house rises.

  Phil smiled. ‘Perhaps it was the wine. You shouldn't have drunk so much, I only meant for you to have a glass.’

  I looked over at the near empty bottle by the bed, mildly confused. I was sure he’d only brought up a glass. I must have had it, though, I could feel the repercussions of it behind my eyes, the steady, dull ache of a hangover.

  ‘I've got to go,’ he said and I
looked at him, suddenly registering that he was showered, shaved, dressed. ‘I'm on a conference call at ten and I'm needed in the regional office before that, and,’ he raised his hands in defeat, ‘I've to pick up the bloody courtesy car. Why they can't deliver it here before ten o'clock I've no idea.’

  He went to his drawers, then the desk. He was collecting his belongings with strong sense of purpose and I shivered, there was a slight chill in the air.

  ‘Is Della downstairs?’

  ‘Not yet.’ I watched as he put on his jacket and checked himself in the mirror, smoothing his collar. ‘But we did keep her last night. She looked worn out when she left, so I told her not to rush in this morning.’ He picked up his phone, studied it for a moment before putting it in his pocket. ‘I've called a taxi and the girls are all ready to go. I'll drop them off on my way,’ he smiled. ‘Thought I'd do the school run for once.’

  ‘A taxi?’ I felt like I'd been underwater, like I'd been deep sea diving and was just breaking the surface. ‘You're taking the girls? But Della should be doing that, can’t you call her, get her to take them?’

  He gave a laugh. ‘No need, I'm here.’

  I leaned over and took out my painkillers, swigging them back with the rest of my coffee, hoping they might clear my head.

  ‘Phil, stop. Wait a minute. It doesn't matter if they're late this morning does it? What time did you tell Della to get here, let me give her a ring.’ I looked about in vain for my phone then remembered it was in my handbag downstairs. Still on the kitchen table where I’d left it before rushing out to the retail park yesterday. It felt like it was from another life.

  ‘Della will be here soon,’ Phil said. ‘Let her have a late start. She was brilliant yesterday.’

  ‘She only stayed an hour over her normal time. Phil, just stop for a moment.’ I tried to shift my position whilst Phil went about the bedroom collecting his things. I couldn’t keep up with him, my head was foggy and I couldn’t seem to wake up fully.

  He paused and looked at me for a moment. He opened his mouth ready to speak but was stopped by Katie, she'd heard my voice and came charging into the room.

  ‘Mum, finally!’ she said coming in and kissing me on the cheek. ‘You’ve been snoring your head off,’ she laughed. Her black hair was piled up on top of her head and she was wearing more dark eyeliner than normal. She looked like a very young Amy Winehouse impersonator.

  ‘You need to wash that off,’ I began and she gave me an exaggerated eye roll. ‘I mean it, Katie. School won’t allow it and you look ridiculous.’

  She looked at Phil and shook her head. ‘Even with a broken leg she’s still getting at me.’

  ‘I’ve broken my ankle,’ I corrected her. ‘And I’m not getting at you, I’m telling you to take off that make-up.’

  ‘I only came in to see if you were okay,’ she said before flouncing out of the room.

  ‘I’ll tell her to wipe it off on the way,’ Phil said as I went to protest. ‘Or at school. Now, is there anything you need before we leave?’

  ‘Morning, Mum. You okay?’ Jessica asked before I could answer. She leaned on the doorframe, already in her coat, a big army thing that she’d got from the charity shop. It dwarfed her. She was clutching a pile of books to her chest. ‘Dad’s dropping me off at college on the way to his office,’ she explained. ‘He bribed me.’

  ‘Bribed you?’

  She nodded and took some lip gloss out of her pocket, expertly applying it whilst she spoke. ‘Couldn’t resist an offer of free pancakes.’

  ‘Pancakes?’ I felt disorientated. I was playing catch up and couldn’t grasp what she was telling me.

  ‘Phil,’ I began, but he was already at the door, ushering Jessica down the stairs.

  ‘Katie!’ he shouted. ‘You got your school bag?’ he turned to me. ‘Rachel, please, don't worry so much. You just relax.’

  I went to say how I couldn't relax but he carried on talking.

  ‘Your crutches are there but don't do anything until Della arrives, don't move until someone else is in the house, just in case…’

  ‘Bye Mum,’ Jessica called from behind him as she went downstairs. I wanted to shout at her to stay, not to leave me, but Phil was still talking, telling me how I should take it easy and rest up.

  ‘Your medication is just there,’ he was saying, ‘and here’s a glass of water if you get thirsty.’ He grabbed the television remote and placed it beside me. ‘Just have a rest until Della arrives.’

  ‘I’m working at ten,’ I went to tell him. ‘You know this. I’ve got Suzie coming and…’

  ‘Dad!’ Katie shouted from downstairs. ‘Taxi’s here!’

  ‘Phil!’ I said. ‘Phil, you can’t go now.’

  I needed to use the bathroom. The room looked suddenly overwhelming, like a giant obstacle course. I could hear Katie and Jessica getting ready to leave, doors opening, and felt slivers of panic creep up my spine. I went to swing my legs off the edge of the bed, carrying the cast like a small toddler, but Phil ran over, dropping his overcoat on the unmade bed as he did so, his hands outstretched.

  ‘Don't you dare!’ he told me. ‘Wait until Della is here.’ He tucked in the covers tight around me. ‘They say it might snow today so stay in bed. Wrap up warm.’

  ‘Phil,’ I said. ‘I don't understand, why are you taking Jessica? Can’t she stay until Della arrives? I need to get to the bathroom.’

  I saw his face crinkle with concern and then:

  ‘Dad!’ Katie's shout again. ‘If we don't go now we can't stop at Chilterns.’

  I looked at Phil.

  ‘Chilterns?’ My voice was high. ‘You're taking them to Chilterns this morning?’

  Phil shrugged, a small flush working up through his neckline. ‘Thought I'd treat the girls to early morning pancakes before school.’

  So that’s what Jessica was referring to.

  ‘Phil? What the…?’

  ‘Dad!’

  He leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the mouth, quietening my protests.

  ‘I was thinking of the girls,’ he said as he went to the door. ‘It shook them up yesterday, you having your car accident and them seeing you like that. I thought they could do with a treat. Della will be here any minute and I'll be back in a couple of hours. Tops. Phone if you need me.’

  ‘But Phil…’

  ‘Why don't you try to get back to sleep? Take the day off?’

  ‘You know I can't, Suzie is due –’

  ‘Dad! Taxi!’

  He looked at me with an expression of hopelessness and gave a slight shrug.

  ‘I promised them,’ he said, as if it quantified him running out on me. ‘I'll be back before you know it.’ He blew me a kiss from across the room and then charged down the stairs to the cheers of the girls.

  And then, silence. My mouth left comically hanging open at his rushed exit.

  After a moment, I reached for my crutches, my hands shaking. I couldn’t wait for Della; I had things to do. I’d arranged that Suzie be here, I’d a party to plan, work commitments I couldn’t cancel. And besides, even though Della helped with an enormous amount of our lives, nursing and helping me get dressed might be out of her remit.

  I felt dizzy, nervous, as I gingerly heaved myself up. Nausea washed over me, either from the alcohol and medication or circumstance, I wasn't sure. I rested my weight on my good leg, and took a few deep breaths, cursing Phil. How could he be so attentive the previous night and then rush out and leave me this morning? There was no urgency, I could’ve phoned Katie’s school, Jessica could’ve caught the bus into college, but then, perhaps he was right. Perhaps seeing me incapacitated was a shock to them; they weren’t used to seeing me out of action. I wasn’t used to being out of action.

  I straightened myself, looked about the room and saw how I would do it. Once I had my balance, I hopped forward toward the dresser. I planned to use the furniture along with my crutch to make it to the bathroom, and then, my wardrobe. I’d have a dres
s or something I could put over my cast, I might not win any fashion awards but I’d be up. I’d be working. One thing I was sure of was that I couldn’t stay in bed wallowing, my mind was too rattled, too restless. I needed work. I needed focus.

  At the hospital the previous day, I'd arranged with Suzie that she'd pick me up at around ten. We'd talked briefly of how we'd work, how we could still go ahead with the Gatsby party despite my broken ankle and it was surprisingly easy to arrange. As most of the planning had been done, it was all down to delegating, phone calls and hiring temporary staff. I had a day of speaking with recruitment agencies in front of me and Suzie would be knocking on the door in less than two hours. I didn't have time to be panicky or anxious, or go over events in my mind. I had work to do.

  I leaned against the wall, slotting myself between the dresser and the wardrobe to catch my breath. I was about to set off again, when I stopped. From the angle I was in, I had a clear view of the debris on top of Phil's drawers. Stuff that was normally hidden behind the lamp was on full view, loose change, crumpled bits of paper and receipts. He'd emptied his pockets there. I'd seen him do it last night. All the bits from his previous day, like breadcrumbs of where he'd been.

  I was suddenly aware I was sweating, my heart thumping. I didn’t need to look at any of that. I didn’t need to investigate Phil’s rubbish, but the events of yesterday started to crowd in on me. I closed my eyes, the rapid beat of my heart in my ears. I concentrated on the image of Phil handing over his train tickets to the police, of him explaining that it was his car but it was not him. It wasn’t Phil. I didn’t see Phil. Everything was normal.

  I took in a deep breath, held it. My husband was not having an affair. He did not run someone over. I didn’t see him commit a hit and run. Everything was fine.

  I opened my eyes and saw his drawers again, the bits of paper on top. The bits of stuff from Phil’s pockets. Evidence of where he’d been. I surveyed the room, working out how I could get there safely. Everything was fine, everything was normal, I just had to check, that was all. Just had to annihilate that prickling feeling in the base of my stomach, once I saw that his rubbish was just that, rubbish, I could get on with my day. If I went forward I could use the side of the bed and work myself along that, get to his bedside cabinet and then, it was only a step from his drawers and the rubbish on top.