Frailty: a haunting psychological page-turner

by Betsy Reavley

  This Thursday morning is no different to any other. Danny has made his coffee and toast and silently retreated to the office to work on the computer. I sit at the kitchen table with Gracie, trying in vain to get her to eat her Marmite on toast.

  ‘Come on, girlie, you asked for it. Just eat some.’ I lean across the table holding a piece of cold soggy toast out.

  ‘No. I not hungry.’ She folds her little arms and looks at me defiantly.

  ‘Gracie, please. Just this one piece, then you can get down from the table.’

  I can see her thinking about getting down and walking away – but she decides to stay seated.

  ‘No, Mummy. I’m really full.’

  ‘But you’ve only had one bite. Come on, we are going to Tumble Tots later and you will need some energy. You’ll be too tired if you don’t eat anything.’

  She eyeballs the quarter slice of toast I am offering before shaking her head and turning away.

  ‘Fine.’ I let out a long huff. I am too tired to argue.

  My nights are frequently interrupted by nightmares. I dream I can hear Hope calling me but I can’t find her. In the dream, every time I think I am making progress her voice grows further and further away. Sometimes the dream is different. I see Hope on the other side of a glass wall and I bang my fists, shouting for her to come back. But she can’t see or hear me and I have to watch as she gets into a strange car and is driven away. It is always one of those two dreams. The same nightmares over and over, night after night. Often I wake up in the middle of the night, dripping in sweat with tears streaming down my face. After that it is difficult to get back to sleep so I lie there in my damp sheets willing my mind to take a break and let me rest.

  Gracie smiles triumphantly before hopping down off her chair and rushing into the sitting room to play on the iPad.

  I clear the table, wiping the crumbs onto the floor with the palm of my hand, before loading the dishwasher. When I turn to leave the room I find Danny standing there, in the doorframe, watching me.

  ‘You startled me.’ I take a step back.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Everything OK?’

  He has that strange look again. ‘Yes. I’ve been thinking.’

  I don’t know why but I don’t think I am going to like what he has to say.

  ‘I really think you should take Gracie and go and visit your parents. It would do you the world of good to get away for a few days. Gracie would love to see them.’

  ‘You know I can’t leave this house.’ I fold my arms across my chest. I am terrified by the thought of not being at home if there is any news.

  ‘But I’ll be here. I’ll stay here. Just go, please? For a little while. Just a few nights? I think it would really be good for you to take a step back. That time I spent with Simon did me the world of good. It really helped me to order my thoughts. I feel much better for it. You should do the same.’

  ‘It might be good, I suppose.’

  ‘That’s the spirit. I’ve been looking at the train. It’s really not that expensive and it will beat being stuck in the car with Gracie for six hours.’

  ‘No. I’m sorry but I’d want the car. If something happened and I needed to get home quickly I wouldn’t want to have to wait for a train. If I’m going, I’ll drive. Gracie will be OK. I’ll stop every few hours and remember to take that fucking nursery rhymes CD.’

  ‘OK. If that’s what you want. You should call your folks and arrange when you are going to go down there.’

  ‘If only they weren’t in bloody Cornwall. It’s such a long way.’

  ‘It could be worse. They could live in Australia.’

  ‘That’s true.’ I run my hands through my hair, brushing out the tangles. ‘I’ll call mum in a bit.’

  ‘Try and see if you can go soon. No point delaying it.’

  ‘Why do I feel like you are trying to get rid of me?’ I’m half joking because really I get the feeling something is going on.

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ Danny comes over and gives me a hug. ‘I’ll miss you both.’ He kisses the top of my head. ‘Just get away for a while. Let the wind from the Cornish coast blow some of those cobwebs away.’

  ‘You’re right. Thank you. I love you, you silly sod.’

  ‘I love you too, Lib.’

  ‘Right,’ I release myself from his tight grip. ‘Where’s the phone?’

  ‘That’s the spirit, old girl.’

  ‘Less of the “old” please.’ I hit him on the arm gently as I pass. ‘It will be great for Gracie. She’ll love the beach, even if it is bloody freezing.’

  ‘Bracing British weather.’

  ‘I’m sick of it. I’m sick of it all.’

  Before he has a chance to respond I leave to find the phone. Danny is right: the sooner I get away the better. This place is suffocating me and I feel pushed to the limits. I am sick of praying to an entity I am pretty sure doesn’t exist.

  Our front door is a portal to the past and every time I look at it I see Hope leaving for the last time. If only I’d stopped her, or made her wait for me to go with her. If only.

  I find the phone, stuck between the cushions on the sofa and dial my parent’s number.

  ‘Hello.’ My dad answers.

  ‘Dad. Hi. How are you?’

  ‘Can’t complain Libby, can’t complain. And yourself?’ He speaks to me the way you might talk to a check out girl in a supermarket. It occurs to me that a normal dad, a proper dad, would assume I was calling with some news about his missing granddaughter.

  ‘We’re coping. Is Mum there?’

  ‘No, she’s out at the minute.’

  ‘Oh. Well, I was thinking maybe Gracie and I could come and stay for a few days.’ Silence greets me down the line. ‘You know, we haven’t seen you for a while and it would be good to get away.’

  ‘You’d better speak to your mother about this.’

  ‘Well I can’t because she’s not there, so I’m talking to you.’

  ‘Erm, well, when did you want to come?’

  ‘As soon as possible,’ I say, wondering if that is even true.

  ‘You’ll have to share a room with Gracie. Alex is here.’

  ‘That’s fine. I’m looking forward to seeing him.’

  ‘How are you going to get here?’

  ‘I’ll drive.’

  ‘It’s a long drive. Are you sure it’s worth it just for a few days?’

  ‘Maybe we’ll stay a week. I don’t know, Dad, I just need to get away.’

  ‘Well if you’re sure. I’ll tell your mother to make up the spare room.’

  ‘Thank you. We’ll set off tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Then we’ll expect you for dinner?’

  ‘If that isn’t too much trouble.’

  ‘Your mother won’t be pleased. You know she likes to have notice about this sort of thing.’

  ‘Perhaps you could remind her that I am her daughter and my child is missing and I need to be around my family.’ Silence again. ‘Well?’

  ‘Of course.’ Now he sounds like a brisk office worker. Did this man really father me?

  ‘Thank you. Tell Mum not to worry about supper. I’ll stop and get fish and chips on the way.’

  ‘Good thinking.’ His relief is tangible. All he ever worries about is Mum.

  ‘See you tomorrow then.’

  ‘See you then.’ The line goes dead. Why am I going there? Did I think my parents had suddenly undergone a personality change because Hope was missing? The disappointment tried to get its grip on me but I wasn’t going to let it. I did need a change of scene and it would be good for Gracie to see her other grandparents and there was always Alex. Seeing him would do me the world of good. I needed to let off some steam and catching up with my brother would be just the ticket.

  ‘All set then?’ Danny appears behind me.

  ‘Yes. That was Dad. Charming as ever. Didn’t even mention Hope.’ I feel a flurry of rage bubbling up inside.

  ‘Don’t get cros
s. They just aren’t very good at expressing themselves. They love you.’

  ‘Do they?’ I turn to look at Gracie who is playing with a doll and attempting to brush its hair. ‘We are going to see Grandpop and GG. That will be nice won’t it?’

  Gracie shrugs and returns to playing her game.

  ‘It’ll do you good.’ Danny puts his hand on my shoulder and gives an encouraging squeeze.

  ‘I don’t know why I’m going.’ I feel miserable again.

  ‘Because you need a break, Lib.’ Danny puts his arms around me and pulls me close to him.

  ‘They are so stunted. I’m not sure that being around emotionally retarded people is the answer.’

  ‘Alex isn’t like that, though, and I think you’d like to see him, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘True.’ I rest my forehead on Danny’s chest and realise just how exhausted I am. ‘I don’t know how much more I can take of this.’

  ‘That’s exactly why you need to go.’ His persistence is beginning to bother me.

  ‘Why are you so keen that I go and spend time with my parents? You don’t even like them.’

  ‘Don’t start this.’ He sighs and takes a step back. ‘Just go. For Gracie’s sake if not your own. We can’t keep leaning on my parents.’

  ‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’

  Libby

  By the next morning we are packed and ready to go. Despite it being a long drive I only plan to stay for three or four nights. Any longer than that and I will likely kill my parents or myself.

  My relationship with them has always been rocky. Despite doing OK at school and never getting into any very serious trouble, I always felt like a disappointment. What didn’t help is that when I was born I was a twin. My sister was stillborn and it destroyed my mother, which meant she really struggled to bond with me. I was a constant reminder of her dead child.

  As a teenager I didn’t have much sympathy. I resented them for not loving me enough. When Alex was born that all changed. He came bounding into the world a happy little chap and both my parents instantly fell in love with him. He was their golden boy and I felt like the black sheep who sometimes wondered if it would have been better if I’d died as well as my twin.

  It was strange growing up knowing that I shared a womb with a person who I would never meet. Sometimes at night, when I was young, I’d dream that I’d meet her and we would chat for hours. In my dream she was lovely and perfect and it was just the two of us. Then I’d wake up and feel lonely and sad.

  The dreams stopped when I became a teenager. I miss not having my sister in my life any longer.

  Birthdays were the worst. What should have been time spent laughing and opening presents was all swept under the carpet. They didn’t abuse me, or anything like that but they just couldn’t celebrate. I didn’t have parties like other children because it would have been too difficult for my parents. I grew up knowing that, but it didn’t stop me wishing I could be like the other kids. Then of course Alex arrived and there was a transformation in the way my folks behaved. We celebrated his birthday and they were natural parents to him from the moment he was born.

  Part of me wanted to hate him. Sometimes I did. But as I grew up I learnt that it was pointless blaming him. He didn’t ask to be born. He didn’t want our sister to die and he was not responsible for the way our parents behaved.

  Then when I was old enough to leave and go to university things changed. I got away from the people who didn’t want me and made me feel bad about myself. As an adult I came to understand how difficult it must have been for them. Only after I had my own children did I appreciate how painful losing a child might be. Then Hope disappeared and suddenly I was in their shoes, wishing to God that I wasn’t.

  But there was a difference. They had a grave to visit. They knew what had happened to my sister. I didn’t have that luxury with my situation. My little family unit was stuck in limbo.

  Suddenly, sitting on the bed looking at my packed bag, I have a strong desire to cancel the trip. It isn’t because I am trying to avoid my parents but something feels wrong. Leaving the house and Danny by himself makes me feel uneasy. I should stay in case she comes home. What if she came home and discovered I’d gone on holiday to Cornwall with Gracie? How would that make her feel?

  Just as I am about to go downstairs and tell Danny that I’ve changed my mind, he appears in the doorway holding a mug of coffee for me. ‘Here you go.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I get up off the bed and accept the mug.

  ‘All packed?’

  ‘Yes, but–’

  ‘No, Lib. No buts. Just go. Please.’

  I want to stay. I want to share my doubts. I want to be near Hope’s belongings. But I don’t want to argue to with Danny so I nod meekly and sip the coffee.

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Good. Gracie is downstairs. She’s packed herself some things in her Peppa Pig bag. I can only imagine what sort of stuff she’s put in there.’

  ‘Oh, it’s fine. Let her take it. No real harm.’

  Danny cocks his head slightly. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘No. Not really and, honestly, I wonder if anything will ever be OK again.’

  ‘Come here.’ He opens his arms and comforts me. ‘We’ll get through this. I am going to make sure we get her back.’

  ‘How? We’re doing everything we can. It’s hopeless.’

  ‘No, it’s not. Just leave it to me. We will find Hope. I promise you.’

  I don’t understand where his newfound belief has sprung from but I am too tired to press him on it. I have a long drive ahead of me. ‘I suppose we’d better get going.’

  ‘That’s my girl.’ Danny brushes the hair away from my face and plants a small kiss on my lips. It is the most intimate thing we have done since Hope was taken. Neither of us can bring ourselves to have sex.

  ‘I’ll see you in a few days then. Please call if–’ I can’t finish the sentence. ‘You have the house number as well? And Alex’s mobile number?’

  ‘Yes, yes. Don’t worry. Go and try to have a nice time.’

  Danny stands in the driveway waving us off as the car pulls away and I watch our cottage get smaller in the rear view mirror. There is something that is bothering me. I have a knot in my stomach and the feeling that something isn’t right. But, forcing myself to ignore my instincts, I put my foot on the accelerator and head out of the village making sure I keep my eyes on the road and don’t let them glance in the direction of Amit and Simran’s shop.

  As we join the trail of morning traffic on the M11 I start to relax. Gracie is happily singing a song from Disney’s Frozen to herself in the back while we crawl slowly through the low-lying grey fog that smothers the south Cambridgeshire countryside.

  ‘Will they have snow where we are going, Mummy?’

  ‘No sweetie. I don’t think so.’

  ‘But I want to make a snowman like Olaf.’ She is genuinely disgruntled that she is not going to be building her own Disney character any time soon.

  ‘Maybe it will snow soon. I don’t know.’

  ‘Well I want it to be like Frozen.’

  ‘Come on, girlie, we are going to have a lovely time. Don’t be cross.’

  ‘But I want to be like Anna.’

  ‘You are, Gracie. You’re just like Anna.’ I don’t understand where all this is coming from.

  ‘No I’m not. I don’t have a sister anymore.’

  Those seven words stop me in my tracks and for a moment I forget that I am driving a car through thick fog. Just before we plough into the back of a lorry I come to my senses and get a grip of myself, remembering to brake just in time.

  ‘Don’t speak like that.’ My heart is in my throat and I wish we weren’t stuck on a motorway.

  ‘But it’s true. Hope has gone and she isn’t going to come back now.’

  ‘Gracie, please.’ I don’t know what to say to her. ‘This isn’t the time for that talk now. When we stop the car we’ll have a talk about Hope, OK?’


  In the mirror I see her nod in silent agreement and decide the only thing to do is turn the radio on to drown out the tension.

  This is not how I thought my morning would go.

  Danny

  As I wave them off, a calm washes over me. Most of the morning I’ve been jittery but as I watch our car disappear into the distance, I know what I have to do.

  I get my bag that I’ve left hidden in the cupboard under the stairs, and stand looking around our messy living room for a moment. The house is so quiet without Lib and Gracie. Putting the bag down on the floor I leap up the stairs to the landing before dashing into the kids’ bedroom. I don’t like to go in there very often. It is too difficult being surrounded by Hope’s things, although I understand it is a comfort to Lib. Sitting down on Hope’s bed I pick up her pillow and hold it for a moment. It still smells faintly of her.

  Laying the pillow back down I smooth the case with my hand, not liking that the fabric feels cold.

  ‘I’m going to bring you home, monkey. I promise.’ Speaking to the empty room doesn’t seem strange, more cathartic.

  Then I leave the room, make my way back downstairs, haul my bag on to my shoulder and pull the front door closed behind me. Checking my phone I see that it is nearly 11am – time for me to go and catch the bus into Cambridge. Phase one of my plan is underway.

  Hope

  ‘Zoe please talk to me. Say something.’ I can’t find her anywhere and I am beginning to panic.

  ‘I’m sorry I let go but I was trying to find a way out of here. Please say something. We can find each other again. We did it before.’

  Nothing. Not a sound. Even if she was asleep she can’t be now. I’ve been shouting loudly.

  This space that we are trapped in feels as if it is getting smaller all the time. It smells so horrid. I try not to think about what I might be stepping or sitting in.