by Annette Heys
‘No, Mum. I told you, he’s only just . . .’
‘I’ll ring for an ambulance. Then I’m going over there.’
‘I’ll pick you up. You can’t drive in that state,’ Sam told her.
Kate didn’t argue. She just wanted to get off the phone and do something, wanted to be there.
‘What’s going on?’ Jim asked.
‘It’s Ben. We think he’s taken an overdose,’ she told him whilst dialling 999. ‘Ambulance, please. Address? God, I can’t remember . . . hang on.’ Jim understood and ran into the hall for the address book. He handed it over and Kate rattled off the address. She put the receiver down and burst into tears.
Jim put his arms around her. ‘It’ll be all right. They’ll be there soon.’ A car horn sounded outside the door. ‘Shall I come with you?’ he asked.
‘No. He might ring here. I’ll call as soon as I know anything.’ Kate hurried into her coat.
She and Sam hardly spoke as they sped down the motorway. Kate half expected her to make some reference to their last conversation about Ben, and was grateful she didn’t. This was no time for remonstrations.
They arrived just after midnight and rang for the night watchman who explained that the ambulance had been and taken Ben to hospital. He also told them that he’d seen Ben walk out of the building, for which they felt a great sense of relief. Jumping back into the car, they carried on to the hospital, a journey of no more than fifteen minutes.
As they approached the doors, a group of youngsters was standing outside the main entrance smoking cigarettes and talking loudly. Kate caught snatches of conversation as she rushed past them, ‘kicked and punched . . . blood everywhere . . . head smashed open . . .’ This would probably be a typical weekend for A & E, Kate thought, dealing with fighters, drunks and domestics.
They soon found the waiting room teeming with people standing or sitting around in small groups, couples or by themselves. They were mostly dressed in shabby clothes. Their faces, weary or abuse ridden from drugs, drink or a hard life, grotesquely illuminated in the bright, artificial light that radiated from the fluorescent tubing. Kate felt as though she were in some awful nightmare, thrust into an unfamiliar place in the company of strangers. Then she spotted Ben sitting in a chair next to the wall, his head buried in his hands. She squeezed between the rows of seats, closely followed by Sam, and sat down next to him. He didn’t move. She could think of no words to say to him and looked sorrowfully at the crumpled figure before her. She sat down, put her arm around his shoulders and pulled him towards her. She hadn’t held him like this since he was a little boy. Throughout her upbringing, hugging was censored after a certain age, and even now it was something that did not come naturally to her. She thought of Michael’s letter and how it had been the same with his family. She remembered what he’d said about seeing his friend’s mother kiss him before he left for school and thinking how strange it seemed. She had experienced that same sense of strangeness when seeing her friends and their families knot themselves in a show of affection. The norm in their household when she was growing up was not to show emotion; the affection they held for one another was taken as read.
A shudder suddenly ran through her as though a shadow had fallen upon them. The bright lights seemed dimmer and the room deserted. Darkness spread around them, and such a weight fell upon her shoulders she felt crushed. It was as though there were just the two of them sitting on a vast, empty stage with the lights slowly fading and the audience so quiet they might not even exist. But this was no play; it was really happening. Kate felt drained. It was hard to believe that not so long ago she had sat next to Michael, touched his hand and felt his pain. And now this.
‘Ben, have you seen anybody yet?’ Sam leaned across and touched his arm. He moved away and leaned against the wall turning his ashen face towards them. Kate reached out her hand and stroked his hair.
‘Not yet,’ he murmured and slumped forward again, head in hands.
‘What have you taken?’ Kate asked.
‘Painkillers.’
‘How many?’
‘Can’t remember . . . a lot.’
Sam nudged her with a look that said leave it. ‘I’ll get us some tea, Mum,’ she said, ‘and see if I can find anything out.’
She was soon back carrying drinks but had been unable to discover how long they would have to wait. Kate took one of the small white polystyrene cups from her and held it between both hands.
An hour passed before Ben’s name was called. They were taken a short distance along a corridor and Kate and Sam were asked to wait outside on one of the white plastic seats while Ben was taken in to see the doctor.
At length the doctor appeared looking surprisingly buoyant considering the lateness of the hour. ‘We’ll keep him in for tonight. I’ve arranged for him to see someone,—a psychologist.’ Seeing the look of shock on Kate’s face, he added, ‘Don’t worry, it’s normal with suicide cases.’ The words cut like a knife as she realised that this was her son he was talking about. ‘Is there anyone he can stay with in the meantime?’ he asked.’
‘Yes, he can stay with me. I’m his mother,’ she told him.
‘Fine, then we’ll find him a bed and keep an eye on him during the night.’
Sam and Kate waited until Ben was ready to see them. He’d been given a small room off a nearby corridor. When they walked in he was propped up in bed under a dim light that didn’t quite reach the corners of the room. It was far enough away from the waiting room to be cut off from any commotion made by the comings and goings of weekend casualties.
Kate went to his bedside. ‘How are you feeling now?’
‘A bit groggy.’ He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. ‘I’m sorry . . .’
‘Forget it, Ben. We’ll talk tomorrow. I’ll pick you up in the morning and we can pick up a few things from the flat. You can stay with us for a while.’
‘Thanks.’ He managed a smile as he looked up at her.
Kate bent down and kissed his forehead. ‘Everything’s going to be all right.’ Sam went over and kissed him, telling him to get a good night’s rest. He looked as though he might fall asleep the moment they left the room, but who knows what was going through his mind and whether he’d find any rest that night. Kate was pretty sure she wouldn’t. Once again, she found herself caught up in someone else’s life, trying to imagine why this was happening, and wondering what she could do to mend his broken life.
It had turned two o’clock as they headed back out of the hospital towards the car. Kate was weary. ‘Whatever made him do it?’ she whispered.
Sam took a few moments before she replied. ‘Whatever it is, it will have to wait until tomorrow. You know he’s safe now, Mum, so stop worrying. I’ll come back with you in the morning if you like; help you get his stuff together.’
‘Thanks, love. I’d appreciate that.’ Kate was glad of the offer. She didn’t want to be on her own with Ben. She was afraid of asking too many questions and even more afraid of finding out the truth.
When she got home, Jim was still up even though she’d phoned to say she would be back late. She told him everything she knew, except that Ben would be staying with them for a while. She couldn’t cope with any resistance or arguments at so late an hour. Jim stroked his chin thoughtfully, and she wondered if he half suspected what she had in mind. Surely, after all that had happened, he couldn’t object.
She went to bed that night feeling as though her world was collapsing around her; first Michael and now Ben. What were the chances of being so close to two young men who try to end their lives within a few weeks of each other? It was probably easier to understand the way Michael felt. What kind of future could he hope for on his release, still many years away? Realistically, he was probably right about his prospects. How could he have a relationship with someone without them knowing about his past? O
nce they knew what he’d done, it could never be forgotten. Supposing there was an argument and Michael became angry, wouldn’t a person feel more threatened in that situation knowing he’d killed someone. Could anyone be sure he wouldn’t lose control again? Maybe he didn’t know himself and wasn’t prepared to take the risk.
And what about the present? Every day a living hell. Waking up each day to the same routine; every hour of every day mapped out for you—when to eat, when to rest, when to study or work, when to be in your cell, out of your cell; made to do without question what the regime tells you to do; socialise with people you can’t stand; attend courses for personal development where you have to bare your soul in front of strangers; counselling; discussions; a life without choice or freedom—things most people don’t think twice about.
Yes, it was easy to understand Michael’s reasons but what about Ben? What was his hell? Money? Women? Work? On balance, it seemed Michael had less to live for.
Kate lay with eyes wide open, staring into the blackness of the room, afraid of the dark shadows that seemed to loom over her. She pulled the duvet up around her chin, closed her eyes and longed for morning in the hope that it would bring even a glimmer of optimism back into her life.
She awoke from a fitful sleep just after seven. A clatter of dishes and cutlery from downstairs told her Jim was already up and about but the soothing impression these sounds made upon her was short lived when her thoughts inevitably returned to the horror of the previous day and the looming uncertainties of the present one. Her immediate concern was how to tell Jim that she was bringing Ben back with her. She was running a few imaginary conversations in her head when she heard his feet on the stairs and her body flinched as the door burst open. Jim walked in carrying a tray, the smell of toast and coffee drifting towards her as he set it down on the bedside table.
‘I thought you’d better eat something before you go.’ He lifted a mug of coffee and a slice of toast from the tray before sitting down on the edge of the bed. ‘Shall I take you to the hospital?’
‘No, it’s OK, Sam’s picking me up. Then we need to go round to Ben’s flat to collect a few things.’
‘Collect a few things?’
‘Oh . . . yes. Well, he can’t stay at the flat for a while.’
‘Why not?’
Kate could hardly believe he needed to ask and was unable to hide her annoyance. ‘Because it isn’t a good idea for him to be on his own just now.’
Jim studied the cup he held between his hands. ‘Of course not. I suppose you’d like him here for a while?’
‘Well, where else can he go? He shouldn’t be on his own; the doctor said as much last night. If he goes back to that flat . . .’
‘Look, I understand. He must come back here. But we need to get to the bottom of things. We haven’t a clue what’s happened to him, why he’s ended up like this.’
Jim might have wanted all the answers right away, but Kate didn’t. She wanted time for everything to settle down, peacefully, as a family; doing ordinary things like eating, joking, chatting together. ‘I don’t think he needs the third degree right now, do you?’
‘I’m not saying that. I just think . . .’ He stared at her for a few moments and then, instead of the protest she had expected, he resigned himself to her wishes. ‘I think, yes we ought to try and help him.’
Kate looked up at him, surprised but mostly relieved at what he’d just said. ‘Thanks, Jim.’
He took the cup from her hands and placed it on the table next to the bed before putting his arms around her. ‘We’ll sort him out one way or another,’ he told her tenderly.
At last, Jim seemed to understand what she was going through and, more importantly, was prepared to help Ben. For the first time in ages, she really felt as though there was some common ground between them, even if the circumstances weren’t as solid as she would have liked.
‘I ought to get back to work.’ Jim loosened his arm from around her shoulders as he eased himself up from the couch.
‘Not yet,’ Helen said, drowsily. She pressed her body closer into his and ran a red fingernail between the black hairs on his chest. ‘It’s been so long . . . I don’t want you to leave me just yet.
Jim kissed the top of her head and lay back down still feeling dazed by the impulsiveness of their intimacy.
Any regrets? Helen tilted her head towards his face and searched his eyes while she waited for his answer.
‘No . . . and you?’
‘Why should I? I’m separated, remember?’
Jim didn’t quite know what to make of that and, anyway, he did not feel comfortable with the question of regret and its connotations of misdemeanour and guilt. ‘Yes, I remember. Do you ever see him?’
She turned away slightly, raised her arm to her head and pulled a few strands of hair across her lips. ‘No, never.’
Her tone made it clear she was reluctant to talk about him. If her marriage had been anything like his first, he could understand why. Once again he was troubled by a pang of guilt and steered the conversation towards something more agreeable to his conscience. ‘You aren’t from round here.’
‘No, I’m from Liverpool originally but went to live with my grandparents in Bromley when I was ten.’
‘We were practically neighbours,’ Jim enthused. ‘I’m from Lewisham. Why did you leave your parents? Sorry, I didn’t mean to . . .’
‘That’s OK. It’s parent, actually. I never knew my father but he was probably abandoned like me. You see, my mother decided she would have the chance of a better future without having to drag a kid around with her so she dropped me off in Kent and cleared off abroad with some chap she’d only known a couple of months.’
Her reply took Jim by surprise and he squeezed her gently as he tried to imagine how awful it must have been. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Oh, don’t be. My grandparents were wonderful; there was nothing they wouldn’t do for me. It was as if they felt somehow responsible for that woman and had to make it up to me. And before you ask, I haven’t seen her since, nor should I want to.’
Another twinge of conscience as he thought of his own daughter, even though the circumstances couldn’t be more dissimilar. ‘Did she ever try to see you again?’
‘Apparently not. She used to write to my grandparents, ask how we were doing and I’d get a card at Christmas and birthdays, but they stopped after I wrote to her telling her what an evil, selfish cow she was.’
Jim felt her body stiffen and wondered how deep the emotional scars of being abandoned by her mother really were.
‘Strange thing, though,’ she continued thoughtfully. ‘In everything I’ve ever done, she’s been there, tucked away in the shadows of my mind, as if I’ve had to prove myself to her, show her what I’ve achieved in spite of her. All through my A levels, university, modelling . . .’ (An image of Helen gliding down a catwalk flashed through Jim’s mind.) ‘ . . . and finally successful designer, I pushed myself to be the best, for her, yet I hate her guts. Does that sound crazy?’
‘Not really. We all like to please our parents no matter what, I guess. But do you think you would have had the same success if you’d stayed with her in Liverpool?’
‘Who knows? All I do know is that all this striving to prove something has had a double edged effect on my life. It’s as though I’ve lived my life for her, not me, and because of that, I feel I don’t really know who I am.’
Jim felt a hot tear on his chest and realised how distressing a life she had fought her way through. This woman he held in his arms who on the surface appeared to be completely in control of everything, successful, beautiful, content, was still that ten year old child inside because of a mother who decided she didn’t want her.’
` ` `
As soon as Kate had left for the hospital, Jim’s thoughts careered back to Helen
and his shock at discovering how vulnerable she really was. Now, as he lay stretched out on the settee in the living room, he brought to mind every detail of their lovemaking and conversation. He was already beginning to get used to the idea that he had embarked on an affair and was looking forward to seeing her again the next day. Part of his nonchalant stance had to do with Kate’s decision to bring Ben home with her. Again, she had taken it upon herself to make a judgement on an important family issue without consulting him. He would probably have agreed to his staying with them for a while anyway, at least until they got to the bottom of things, but to be treated as though he had no say in the matter was totally unacceptable. Instead of voicing his annoyance, Jim had been completely compliant to the extent that when Kate asked him to get the spare room ready for Ben’s homecoming, he made not the slightest objection.
Ben was waiting for them on the car park when they arrived at the hospital, his collar pulled up around his ears and his dark hair plastered to his head. A frown gathered across his brow as they pulled up next to him.
‘How long have you been out here?’ Kate asked.
‘A couple of hours,’ he replied. ‘Can’t stand hospitals. I needed some fresh air.’
‘You must be soaked. Jump in,’ Sam called through the open window.
The rain hammered on the windscreen as they turned out of the hospital grounds and headed towards the flats where Ben lived. They travelled in silence but Kate was aware of the tension between them. She racked her brain for something to say, but nothing seemed appropriate. Thankfully, the journey did not take long and as soon as Sam pulled up in front of the flats, she threw open the door.
‘Stay there, Mum. I’ll only be a few minutes,’ Ben told her.
Sam turned to look at him. ‘I’ll give you a hand.’ Before she stepped out of the car she spoke to Kate. ‘I’ll leave the radio on for you.’
They both leapt out of the car and disappeared around the corner of the building. Kate sensed a conspiracy between them. It was obvious that neither Sam nor Ben wanted her to see inside the flat, leaving her in no doubt there was something to hide.