The Babysitter

by Sheryl Browne

  Glancing at Mark, who wouldn’t meet her gaze, and then at Adam, who averted his in favour of studying his phone, she leaned across to refill Emily’s glass. ‘We should leave these killjoys here and go clubbing,’ she suggested, casting another meaningful look in Mark’s direction. Obviously, they’ve forgotten how to have a good time.’

  Emily, though, placed her hand over her glass. ‘Actually, I think we need to go, Mel.’ She smiled apologetically. ‘Kayla’s not so happy with her babysitter. You know what eleven-year-olds can be like.’

  ‘Oh.’ Reminded of the fact that she had children of her own, Mel dropped her gaze. ‘Yes. Of course. Sorry, I… wasn’t thinking.’

  ‘The taxi’s outside.’ Emily reached to squeeze her arm. ‘I’ll give you a ring tomorrow, Mel. Take care, hon.’

  Giving Mark a pointed look, Emily got to her feet and walked around to give Mel a firm hug. The two men stood simultaneously, leaving Mel feeling bewildered, still seated at the table. She had spoiled her friend’s birthday. Spoiled everything. No! It was Mark’s fault, not hers. She was only trying to be cheerful. What was the matter with everyone?

  ‘I’ll give you a ring. About that holiday chalet,’ Mark said, shaking Adam’s hand.

  ‘Do that.’ Adam smiled. ‘We have some new log cabins being built by the river. It would be great to have you and Mel over to dinner one evening. I’ll give you the guided tour.’

  Emily went around to Mark then, giving him a hug. A very firm hug. Mel watched, jealousy and incomprehension warring inside her. Incomprehension at her own volatile emotions. Mark wouldn’t. She knew in her heart that he wouldn’t. His family were the world to him. So, why was she hurting so much? Why did she want to hurt him? Because it had been too good to be true? He’d been too good to be true? Her white knight had probably got tired of the battle. Tired of her. And who could blame him?

  Adam and Emily left, and Mark rushed to settle the bill before she disgraced herself completely.

  ‘Okay?’ he asked her, slipping his wallet back into his pocket as he walked back to her, then leaning down to wrap an arm around her shoulders. He tried to make eye contact, but she looked away. She didn’t want to see the pain in his eyes, the humiliation that would undoubtedly be there. She’d only been trying to have a bit of fun. It wasn’t her fault. He’d caused all this, not her.

  Her heart, which had been sinking steadily all evening, settled like a cold stone in her chest. She reached for the bottle of wine, drawing it proprietorially closer. People were looking. She could feel the prickle of their disapproving, hostile stares. But she didn’t care.

  ‘Go then. I’m staying,’ she announced, getting precariously to her feet as the too-handsome-not-to-be-gay waiter came over. ‘I’m going to dance on the tables with Miguel.’

  Stumbling forward, one leg decidedly shorter – it turned out she was missing a shoe – she snaked the hand still clutching the wine around the startled waiter’s neck. ‘Dance with me, Miguel,’ she said breathily, attempting to lock come-hither eyes on his, but found she couldn’t quite focus.

  ‘Mel?’ She felt a hand slide around her waist. Another trying to ease her arm from around the man’s neck. ‘We need to go home, Mel,’ Mark said, close to her ear, as the room tilted and shifted. His voice wasn’t angry. It was soft. Concerned. Frightened.

  Oh, dear God. She was frightened.

  Mel felt the floor shift violently beneath her, saw a thousand slivers of green glass shoot across the floor in slow motion as her legs melted, like soft butter, beneath her.

  Twenty-Nine

  MARK

  Mel didn’t speak as Mark helped her into the car. She’d been subdued since the doctor at A&E had suggested that he might like to make sure his wife didn’t drink so much in future. She’d looked out of it as they’d dressed the cut to her arm, which fortunately hadn’t needed stitching. She still looked out of it, as if her mind was wandering to some dark, lonely place he couldn’t follow. Mark had seen that look before. Guessing it would be fruitless to try to talk to her now, he made sure she was comfortable and went around to the driver’s side. Climbing in, he reached gently around her to fasten her seatbelt, then took a breath, mentally steeling himself for what might be to come. ‘All right?’ he asked her, not sure what else to say, what else he could trust himself to say.

  Mel nodded, a small uncertain nod, but kept her gaze fixed on her hands, which were resting lightly in her lap. Sighing inwardly, Mark started the engine, wondering where the bloody hell they went from here.

  As he flicked the wipers, which swiped hopelessly against the sudden deluge of late spring rain, Mel spoke. ‘Are the children all right?’ she asked him, her voice barely a whisper.

  You’ve finally remembered you have kids then? Mark thought, his emotions swinging from despair through anger to immense guilt. In truth, he felt like resting his head on the steering wheel and weeping. He had no idea what to do next. How to fix this. Bitter experience told him he couldn’t, but he needed to. God help him, he couldn’t let Mel sink so far down he was unable to reach her again. How had this happened? How hadn’t he noticed the signs until now?

  His jaw set tight, Mark gripped the steering wheel hard, reversed sharply and swung out of the car park. ‘They’re fine,’ he said, after a pause, during which he’d had to work at composing himself. It would do no good to heap guilt on her shoulders, which would only add to the wretchedness she would undoubtedly be feeling. ‘Jade has everything under control. Don’t worry.’

  She didn’t look at him. Couldn’t or wouldn’t. Swallowing back a tight knot in his throat, Mark hesitated, and then tentatively reached across to squeeze her hand. ‘We’ll talk tomorrow,’ he said gruffly. ‘Let’s just get you home for now. You need to rest.’ He resisted saying that things would look better in the morning. He had a feeling that they wouldn’t. That things wouldn’t look better for a long time to come.

  Mel didn’t answer. Turning her gaze to the passenger window, she fell silent instead, watching the bleak night pass by as they drove.

  Fat splodges of rain now plopping moodily against the windscreen, Mark concentrated on the road. Silently, he thanked God, yet again, that they did have Jade. As horrendous as the circumstances were that had forced her to move out of her house, Mark was bloody glad she’d arrived in their lives when she had. He’d managed last time Mel had been ill, but with two children to care for now, Mark doubted he’d cope without help. But wasn’t he jumping the gun? Imagining the worst-case scenario? Her odd behaviour was reminiscent of her previous severe bout of depression, but his thoughtlessness at involving someone else in their problems had added to her upset tonight. She’d obviously convinced herself that he might actually be involved with Lisa.

  He had to take things one step at a time. The first thing he needed to do was persuade Mel to get a diagnosis. Alongside that, he had to make sure she knew he was here for her. Shocked though he was by the sudden onset of symptoms, she had to know that she was much more to him than the mother of his children. She was the woman he loved. The woman who’d loved him back, despite his insecurities and flaws. If the sunny, independent person he knew her to be was momentarily eclipsed by the darkness, then so be it. He’d fight alongside her until the fucking sun came back out. He was here for the long haul. Somehow, he had to convince her of that.

  Pulling up on the drive, Mark killed the engine and waited. Mel seemed reluctant to move. Guessing she would be struggling with her own conflicting emotions, Mark gave her a moment before softly prompting her. ‘Ready?’

  Jade was waiting in the hall when they went in, her dressing gown belted tight, her expression apprehensive as she looked down at the shoes Mark was carrying. Mel had refused to put them back on, but even without them she was still unsteady on her feet.

  Supporting Mel around the waist with his free arm, Mark shrugged, guessing he didn’t need to communicate more than he had from the hospital.

  Jade smiled sympathetically. ‘I’ll make us s
ome tea,’ she said, clearly attempting to give them some space.

  ‘Thanks,’ Mark said, parking the shoes in the hall and steering Mel gently towards the stairs. He wasn’t sure she would be able to drink any, but it might help. She’d vomited up what little food she’d eaten in the ambulance.

  Mel stopped. ‘Are Poppy and Evie all right?’ she asked, looking at Jade.

  Jade stepped back, her concern obvious, as she looked Mel over. ‘Fine. Both fast asleep and dreaming happy dreams,’ she reassured her with a smile. Mark was grateful.

  Mel nodded, smiling tremulously, and then wrapped her arms about herself and allowed Mark to guide her up the stairs.

  She paused on the landing, looking first towards Poppy’s door and then Evie’s. Mark prayed she didn’t insist on going in, and then breathed a considerable sigh of relief when she walked on. Aside from the fact that they would be bound to wake them, he doubted Mel would want Poppy to see her like this.

  She still had her arms about herself as she walked into the bedroom.

  ‘I’ll get you something to sleep in,’ Mark offered, as she stopped in the middle of the room, seeming uncertain.

  Walking to the en suite, he unhooked the shirt she wore from the door, considering whether to offer to help her to shower and quickly discarding the idea. His heart twisted afresh as he recalled the last time they’d been in there together, when everything had seemed so right between them. The morning Hercules had been injured, he reminded himself, realising now that things hadn’t been as right as they’d seemed. He’d just been too damn wrapped up in his work to see it.

  ‘I’ll give you a hand,’ he said, walking back towards where Mel still stood, unmoving. ‘Fancy sitting on the bed?’ he asked, standing behind her, ready to catch her if she stumbled. ‘It would make life a lot easier.’

  Still, Mel didn’t move. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said instead, her voice so small and full of remorse, Mark felt like crying for her.

  Briefly, he hesitated, and then wrapped his arms around her. ‘It’s okay,’ he assured her, easing her towards him. ‘The world’s still turning.’

  ‘So, so sorry,’ Mel said, her voice catching, causing Mark’s chest to constrict.

  ‘It’s okay, Mel,’ he repeated throatily, turning her gently to face him as a sob shook through her. ‘We’ll get through this, I promise.’

  Another sob escaping her, Mel leaned into him, dropping her forehead to his shoulder.

  Mark pressed a hand to her hair – her gorgeous, copper hair, now blonde. Not Mel’s. This illness was part of her, and Mark realised he’d have to accept it might always be. But it wasn’t the biggest part of her, the person she was. Somehow, he’d deal with this. Help Mel deal with this.

  ‘Can you promise me something, Mel?’ he asked cautiously.

  Mel nodded into him.

  ‘Will you make a doctor’s appointment?’

  Mark prayed hard as he waited again. She hated the damn place. She would go for the kids, no qualms. But when it came to herself, she wouldn’t go to the surgery unless she absolutely had to. He couldn’t make her go, but hoped she would see that this was one of those times.

  ‘Yes,’ Mel said at last, with some effort. ‘I will, I promise.’

  Breathing deeply, Mark pulled her closer. ‘Good,’ he said, overwhelming relief washing through him. ‘So, how about we get good and cosy together? I don’t know about you, but I’m dead on my feet.’ Dropping a soft kiss to her head, Mark eased back, gently lifting her chin to look into her beautiful green eyes. The colour of ferns after the rain, they were peppered with such anxiety and uncertainty it tore him apart. ‘I do excellent cuddles.’ He mustered up a smile.

  Mel laughed, a rather strangulated laugh. ‘My white knight,’ she said, her expression now one of immense sadness.

  ‘At your service,’ Mark assured her, hoping he could be all she needed him to be. That he was strong enough. He would be. He needed to be. There was simply no other option.

  * * *

  Mark helped her wash her face, brush her teeth and get changed, the body-hugging dress being impossible to get off single-handedly even when stone-cold sober, he imagined.

  Now, trying to find the balance somewhere between husband and carer, he eased the duvet up over her. She was facing away from him, curled into a tight ball. Mark’s heart wrenched inside him. Checking the baby monitor, which, mercifully, had remained quiet, he deliberated for a second and then switched it to mute, before quickly undressing and slipping in beside her. She might not need a lover right now, but she needed not to feel alone. He hoped she needed him.

  Brushing her cheek with a soft kiss, he slid an arm around her. He closed his eyes as he felt the tension run through her body, heard her trying to stifle her tears. Mark wasn’t sure what to do, what to say. He couldn’t make it go away. ‘I love you, Mrs Cain,’ he eventually murmured, close to her ear, wishing he could show her, but that would be insensitive beyond belief. He settled for holding her instead, waiting until her tears subsided and she relaxed into him. Waiting again, until he heard her breathing slow and felt the steady rise and fall of her chest, he eased quietly back out of bed.

  He was desperately tired, but he needed to check on the kids. He also needed to let Jade know the monitor in here was switched off, at least for tonight. He’d heard her going back downstairs and guessed she’d been too disturbed by the evening’s events to easily drift off. He just hoped she wasn’t put off. He hadn’t realised how much they would need her, but they did, now more than ever.

  * * *

  Mark found Jade in the kitchen, preparing a feed. And clearly, he’d caught her by surprise. She jumped as he came through the door, dropping the lid of the pedal bin faster than she’d intended and wincing as it clanged.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, blushing. ‘I didn’t hear you.’

  ‘My fault. Sorry I startled you,’ Mark said, apologising for the second time in twenty-four hours.

  Jade smiled brightly. ‘No problem. I was just making sure Evie’s feed was ready. I didn’t want her crying for too long and waking Melissa. How is she?’

  ‘Okay… ish.’ Mark shrugged uncertainly. He wasn’t sure how much he should divulge, given his mistake of confiding in Lisa, but, assuming Jade wasn’t already thinking of moving out, she would have to be aware of at least some of what was going on.

  ‘I made Mel some tea.’ Jade indicated the mug as he walked across to her. ‘It might need a quick blast in the microwave though.’

  ‘She’s spark out,’ Mark said wearily. ‘I could use one though.’

  ‘Not this.’ Jade swept up the mug, tipping the contents down the sink before he had chance to reach for it. ‘Sorry. It’s got loads of sugar in and I know you don’t take it.’

  Mark furrowed his brow. Since when did Mel start taking sugar?

  ‘She thought it might help with her energy levels,’ Jade said, though he hadn’t asked. ‘I’ll make you another.’

  Ah. Made sense, Mark supposed. As much as anything made sense tonight. ‘No need. Thanks, Jade, but I think I might have a nightcap instead.’ He shouldn’t, but, frankly, he needed something stronger than tea. ‘Don’t suppose you fancy joining me while you have your tea, do you?’ he asked, noting her mug, which was still half full.

  Jade hesitated for a second. ‘I’d love to,’ she said. ‘Evie’s due to wake soon anyway. There’s not much point going to bed.’

  ‘No.’ Mark guessed she wouldn’t be getting a great deal of sleep tonight either. ‘Sorry about all of this, Jade. Mel doesn’t make a habit of drinking. She has the odd glass of wine, but… Well, there’s a bit more to it, to be honest.’

  Mark sighed despondently. He really didn’t have a clue where to start.

  Jade reached to squeeze his arm. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘You can tell me all about it while you have your nightcap.’

  Picking up her mug, she headed for the lounge. Mark followed, grateful for her understanding, and for the fact that she didn’
t seem to be about to give her notice and bolt for the door.

  Curled up on the sofa, Jade waited while Mark poured himself a large whisky. Taking a breath, he swilled the amber liquid contemplatively around the glass and then swigged back a large gulp.

  ‘You looked as if you needed that,’ Jade commented, as Mark waited for the whisky to hit the spot.

  ‘Yeah.’ Mark ran his hand through his hair and took a seat in the armchair. ‘Strange night.’

  ‘Do you want to talk about it? I mean, I know you probably feel like a bit of a traitor with Melissa lying asleep upstairs,’ she added intuitively, ‘but I’m a good listener, if you need one.’

  Mark nodded. Traitor pretty well summed it up, but what choice did he have? Jade clearly knew there was a problem anyway. He just hoped she wouldn’t think it was too big a problem to deal with.

  ‘I suspect Mel might be suffering symptoms of depression. I’m not sure yet, but the signs are there. She’s suffered with it before. Severe depression.’

  He paused, looking at Jade for her reaction. The sad fact was, some people simply couldn’t cope with mental illness, which was the basis of Mel’s fury with him for discussing it behind her back. The rest, her imagining that he might be having an affair, was fuelled by the negative view of herself she would have right now. Mark was aware of it, but it didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

  Seeming to digest the information, Jade nodded.

  Her expression was concerned, but not shocked, Mark noted. He took a breath and went on. ‘We lost a child. A while back. A son, six months old.’ Having studied the subject endlessly in his attempts to help Mel get through it, he was also aware that there might not be an apparent cause for the onset of symptoms, that the sufferer might not even be aware of it, but he felt Jade should know the circumstances around it, for Mel’s sake.

  Jade paled, now definitely looking shocked. ‘Oh God, Mark, that’s awful. Poor Melissa.’