by Holly Seddon
In the kitchen, with a perfect purple ring sitting under it and a tatty drip-covered label, stood her second wine bottle from last night. The cork had been left out and there wasn’t quite a third of the liquid, but there it was. Wine. In the morning. Left from the night before.
Alex allowed herself a wide smile as she pulled the tap on to a full gush. After filling the coffee machine and flicking it on, she picked up the bottle of wine cautiously. She moved it onto the draining board and spritzed a stern burst of kitchen cleaner onto the drip stain. She scrubbed the whole time the coffee machine burbled, working the stain away until only she would know it was there. As she wrung the cloth under the warm water, without giving herself thinking time, she emptied the cold, stale wine down the plughole. She watched the water destroy the purple trickle of Rioja and drag it away.
As she drank her coffee and pondered a run, Alex flipped open her notebook to the penultimate page. She ticked the line marked 12:30 p.m., 100ml servings, leave one-third.
Today’s line read “1 p.m., 100ml servings, leave one third.”
She had a lot of time to kill.
She hadn’t written next week’s plan down yet, though it was there in her head, looming large. The thought of leaving half a bottle of wine made her chest sweat and her temples beat, so she tried not to think that far ahead.
Alex left the bed unstripped and pulled on her running things. She tucked her key into her sports bra and popped in her headphones. With renewed faith in her willpower, she kicked herself out of the door and into a slow, steady run.
She ran past the tight terraces and out into the open spaces of Mount Scion—the “village” of Tunbridge Wells—with its blocky white villas, fraying at the edges despite their grandeur. She paced toward the welcoming green of the Calverley Grounds and up toward the hospital.
How dare I consider not running? Alex thought as she imagined Amy’s legs, DVT stockings covering the light downy hair that grew like baby moss.
It was Wednesday. Jacob would be there soon, holding Amy’s hand like it was made of glass and worrying about who was watching. For a moment, Alex thought about going in, buoyed by runner’s adrenaline and the success of last night. But she ran straight past and out toward Southborough, wind behind her and brain clearing with the breeze.
Jake came to see me earlier and while he was here he brushed my hair. It felt like he’d done it before, but I don’t know how he could have. Whose hair would he have brushed? He doesn’t have any sisters and I’m his first girlfriend. Unless he’s been lying to me about that, but we’ve been friends since year seven, I would have known. And he’s a rubbish liar.
He knew what to do this morning though. Holding the hair in clumps and working the knots from underneath so it didn’t pull. I didn’t like it. We’re not that kind of couple. When we hold hands on the field, I’m always painfully aware of our skin being crushed together, our fingers tangled up and sweaty. We’re still working out how to be physical and it’s so intimate, having your hair brushed. Even my mum has barely brushed my hair in the last few years, apart from when we tried and failed to make it look like Björk’s hair, or the handful of times when she’s blow-dried it dead straight and shiny for a school disco.
When is the disco? We haven’t had the letter yet. They’re cutting it fine an’ all, it’s nearly the end of term, I think. I can’t have slept through summer, after all. I need to get hold of Jenny and Becky, work out what we’re going to wear. It seems like an age since I’ve even spoken to them. I hope they’re not phasing me out.
Jacob woke up in his childhood bed. His feet dangled off the end of the mattress and his arm hung out of the bed frame like a shipwreck survivor.
For a moment, he forgot where he was and why. When he remembered, he sat up with such a start that he nearly snapped his leg again.
His mother rushed in to his exclamation. “Are you okay?”
Jacob rubbed his leg gingerly and pulled the duvet up over his bare chest.
“What time is it, Mum?”
“It’s about 9:30.”
“Nine-thirty? Shit! Sorry, sugar! Why didn’t you wake me?”
“I thought you needed the sleep. Is something wrong?”
“No, it’s fine.” He attempted a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Mum.”
He wondered if the nurses would notice. If they would remark on it next week. It’s not like Amy would know. He hoped.
“I’ll bring you a cup of tea. Do you fancy a dippy egg or some toast?”
“Tea would be good, thanks, Mum.”
He was surprised he’d been left to sleep in. As a teenager, it was probably the only thing they had properly rowed about. He was a natural night owl who could happily have slept the day away, but his mother had taken huge umbrage to any “wasting” of the sunlight.
She’d disallowed it right up until Amy had been found, and then Jacob had been left to stalk the corridors at night, making himself endless cups of tea into the early hours, drifting between his bed and the sofa, letting the television screen dance around in front of him, then sleeping through lunch. Doing his A-levels at night all but formalized the arrangement. He was the night and Tom was the day and they rarely overlapped.
He hardly remembered seeing his father during this time. Perhaps, under normal circumstances, Jacob would have been invited to fill the void left by Simon, his father’s sidekick. If he was honest with himself, it was always Tom that more closely resembled Simon, but even he’d stopped putting himself forward. Perhaps no one could have filled those shoes, and Tom had just been doing an impression.
And so from a household full of people just a few years before, their numbers had been slashed until the silence was exhausting.
—
Jacob looked around the kitchen. The same kettle, the faded basket of wheat on the same toaster, the ceramic hen egg holder with the dent at the back.
“It’s amazing how powerful hormones can be,” Sue said. “It’s easy to underestimate the effect they can have on a woman. And pregnant women are completely at the mercy of the changes in their bodies.”
Sue reached over and stroked Jacob’s cheek. “I was horrible to Dad at times.”
“It’s not that she’s horrible, or even that she’s being completely unreasonable.” Jacob shrugged. “It’s bigger than that. She says she doesn’t know what’s going on in my head. She reckons I shut her out.”
“Do you shut her out?”
“I don’t share every thought that runs through my head but I talk more than Dad does.”
“Your dad’s from a different generation, I’d like to think I raised you to talk about your feelings when you need to.”
“We do talk, don’t get me wrong. I guess maybe I do live in my head a bit but it’s not just me either. We seem to be bickering and misunderstanding each other all the time. She’s more emotional now she’s pregnant but this has been building for a while and getting stuck at home after my accident has just accelerated things.”
“I wish you’d called me when you fell, I could have come to help.”
“I’m a grown man, Mum.”
“Not to me. You’ll always be a little boy to me. Even when you have your own little one.” She smiled into Jacob’s frown.
“Both of you are new to this, love. You’ve not dealt with a pregnancy before or the changes it brings. I know things will get better and it will all be worth it when the baby’s here,” Sue said. Jacob stared at his tea.
“And if it helps, it was very different the second time, with you. I was more relaxed, Dad was more relaxed and we knew what to expect from the pregnancy and from each other.”
“Right now,” Jacob sighed, “I honestly don’t know if we’re going to sort this out, let alone have more kids. I just thought we were more solid than this, but it’s like even when things are good, they can crumble really easily.”
“Jacob, that’s marriage. That’s life. It takes work. Even when you have a family, it doesn’t mean things ca
n’t be rocked or shaken by what comes along. That’s why you keep trying, you have to put the work in.”
Sue poured them both another mug of tea. “You’ll sort this out. You have to, for the baby. Just give yourselves a couple of days and make sure Fiona knows you’re not going anywhere.”
Jacob took a biscuit and ate it slowly, without tasting a crumb.
“Are you looking forward to being a grandma?”
“So much, J. Although I’m struggling to accept that my baby is having a baby. I know it’s a cliché but it feels like only yesterday that you three were little and I had you all safe and snug, tucked up where I could see you and look after you.”
Jacob brushed crumbs from his hands and onto the plate of other biscuits.
“Have you heard from Tom since he canceled on lunch the other week?”
“No, not since then, but I’ll give him a call soon. I speak to him when I can, but he’s so busy with work. He’s really excited about meeting his nephew or niece though.”
“Really?”
“Of course he is. I know he’s not one for talking about his feelings, but you can tell how much he cares. You remember how much he looked up to you and wanted to be just like you. He always wanted to have everything that you had.”
“I don’t know, Mum. I think you’ve got rose-tinted spectacles on a bit there.”
“Maybe.” Sue smiled. “I can certainly remember a lot of wrestling too. But he does love you and he’ll love being an uncle.”
“Hmn, it feels like he’s been off with me for a long time. I hope he doesn’t cancel on his niece or nephew like he does on us. I’d find that hard to forgive.”
“You know Tom, he dances to the beat of his own drum. I’m sure it’s not about you.”
“He could already be an uncle of course, so could I.”
Sue snapped her head around to look at him. “What do you mean?”
“Well, it wouldn’t surprise me if Simon had left a couple of reminders behind—”
“Jacob!” Sue half laughed but shock crinkled her forehead skyward. “Don’t be so crude!”
“And I’m sure he’s met his fair share of pretty volunteering angels out there.”
“Oh stop. He’d have been in touch if there was any news to share, thank you very much.”
The key rattled in the sticky lock, then the door squeaked open.
Moments later, his upright father appeared around the door in his pristine whites. A surprising amount of dark hair, framed with distinguished gray, sat above those familiar unreadable green eyes.
“Hello then, you’re still here?” Graham said. Then came the light clinking of ice falling onto thick cut glass. Amber liquid swilled in the tumbler, swallowed in one.
When the youngest brothers were little, the clink of ice had been an early warning system, telling them that they should immediately stop wrestling and dismantle the den made from sofa cushions.
“I think I might need to stay a few more days,” Jake told his father’s back as it retreated to the freezer. More clinking of ice.
“You can stay as long as you need, Jacob. Fiona will calm down though. It’s just her hormones. It’s best to stay away and wait for her to sort herself out.” Two swallows.
Sue looked away from her husband. As Jacob watched Graham open his mouth to continue, his mother cut his father off.
“Dad,” she said. “Would you two mind picking up some wine for dinner? I completely forgot.”
As Jacob limped out of the front door after his father, he heard his mother in the kitchen opening up the teapot.
“Hi, Amy, it’s Alex.”
Alex waited for the nurse’s footsteps to move away before she picked up Amy’s hand. It was cold and still but delicate blue lines were busy under her skin.
“I don’t know if you recognize my voice or if you can even hear me but I’d like to think you can.”
Alex smiled in surprise as she thought she saw a twitch spread from the corner of Amy’s mouth and up to her cheekbone.
“I used to spend a lot of time in hospitals—in this hospital actually—but I still don’t feel very comfortable here. I feel like I’m intruding.” Alex paused. “I guess I am intruding.”
Alex bit her lips and looked around the quiet ward. She was the only visitor today, and that lay like a burden. In the background, the radio played “Wonderwall” by Oasis.
Alex remembered hearing it for the first time.
“I used to love this one,” she said. More to the ward than to Amy. “You probably didn’t,” she added, remembering that Oasis’s rivals, Blur, adorned Amy’s cubicle.
Amy’s breathing was quick and quiet, her narrow chest shaking slightly as it rose and fell. Her arms were covered in goose pimples, so Alex pulled the blue hospital blanket over them, tucking it around Amy’s shoulders without thinking.
“I used to visit my mum every day here at the end of her illness, y’know. I probably shouldn’t have bothered,” Alex laughed, and sniffed, “she didn’t know who I was anyway. I could have saved all that time.”
Alex chewed the inside of her cheek and looked around the ward. “I wonder what else I could have done with those months. Written a book, maybe.” She sighed. “Stupid thing is, Amy, I could write a book now. Or learn to paint, or do cookery classes. I have hours free every day, just like I could have had then.”
Alex wanted to be asked what she spent her time doing. She realized that, even after all this time, all this practice, she was still craving a two-way street that would probably never come.
She tried to imagine Amy’s voice in her ear, her soft Kentish accent, a songbird’s version of Bob’s gruff speech. Well, Alex, what do you spend your time doing? she’d ask. Oh, Alex would sigh, I just drink and I stare at my hands and sometimes I gaze around the room and I read my notes and stare at the TV and I just kill the time. I just kill the day. Sometimes I get my wedding album out and I fall asleep crying, and then I wake up covered in my own piss.
Visiting hours were nearly over and there was a sudden sense of activity and urgency seeping out from the nurses’ office. Nurse Radson came over, and Alex was all set to leave in a cloud but the nurse put her hand on Alex’s shoulder.
“I’m not coming to boot you out,” she said. “It’s okay, stay where you are. We’re just having a shift change.”
“I should probably get going anyway,” Alex said, slipping her shoes back on and gathering her jacket. “Can I ask you something?” she asked.
“Okay,” the nurse said warily.
“Do you think Amy can hear me? I mean, do you think any of this gets through to her?”
“I’m certain of it.”
“Really? You think she’s taking this all in?”
“Good grief, I couldn’t have done this mad job for so many years if I didn’t think so. I sing to them sometimes, you know.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes. Music can be very powerful, don’t you think? I wish more visitors sang to them.”
“Well, I’m not going to torture her with my voice,” Alex smiled, “but maybe some of her own music would help?”
“I’m sure it would, love. And between you and me, I don’t care what anyone says, you can tell the ones that are still in there, and the ones that’ve gone. No matter what the tests reckon. And she’s still in there, listening. I can feel it in my bones.”
“I think so too,” Alex heard herself saying. “I feel like we’re building a connection, I really do. Does that sound nutty?”
“Not at all. It’s probably doing her a world of good to have a new friend visiting.”
“It’s doing me good too,” Alex said, and the nurse gave her a strange look.
“Glad to hear it.”
“Okay,” said Alex, embarrassed, “I’d best get going. Nice talking to you.”
—
The sun was over the yardstick, but the bottles stayed in the fridge. They would chill there for over an hour.
On her list of s
uspects, Alex had circled the name “Tom Arlington.” He had been a teenager, barely, and was too young to drive. But it sent shivers through her that a man now in his late twenties would secretly visit his brother’s teenage sweetheart fifteen years after she was attacked. For no reason.
Alex’s instinct used to be her greatest gift. The ability to be counterintuitive, to follow a hunch in the seemingly wrong direction and create a fresh new take on a situation. That ability had been long lost. Alex didn’t trust her rusty tool kit anymore, and was frequently paralyzed by second-guessing herself and deleting everything.
Jacob answered in two rings. “Hello?”
“Hi, Jacob, I’m sorry to call you like this.”
“My mum’s in the other room, I can’t talk to you.”
“I’m sorry, but I have some questions and I really need your help to understand some things.”
“Alex, I have to go.”
“Perhaps I could talk to your mum instead?”
“Okay, what questions?”
“I just want to understand a bit of background. I want to get to know Amy better.” It sounded weird when she said it so overtly.
“I don’t know what you want from me here,” Jacob started.
“Okay, like, what was her favorite film?”
“I don’t remember,” Jacob said flatly.
“Okay, well, what about music? Who was her favorite band?”
“Look, Alex, I don’t have time for this, so if you’re skirting around something important, please just come out and say it.”
“I’d like to know more about your brother, Jacob.”
Jacob didn’t say anything but Alex could hear him breathing, she could almost imagine his nostrils flaring.
“Are your mum and your brother close?” she tried.
“Not especially, he’s a grown man who lives miles away.”
“But your parents must be in touch with him at least?”
“Of course they are, they talk to him from time to time. He keeps to himself though. He’s very busy with work.”