The Homecoming

by Rosie Howard

  ‘Ben?’ she breathed.

  ‘Yes,’ came the reply. ‘Tell me where you are.’

  ‘It’s dark,’ she whispered. ‘I’m in the dark.’

  ‘Okay,’ came Ben’s voice, calming her. ‘That’s okay. I’m there too. I’m with you. You’re safe.’

  In her dream, she tried to talk again, but couldn’t make a sound. She felt Ben near her, protecting her, and the fear was gone.

  ‘Good grief!’ she exclaimed, seeing the clock on her bedroom wall. ‘It’s nearly lunchtime!’

  ‘I know,’ said Ben, elbowing his way through the door with a steaming mug of tea in each hand. ‘I was going to sound a bugle, I was getting so bored waiting for you to wake up.’

  He sat down carefully on the edge of the bed and handed her one of the mugs.

  They sipped companionably.

  ‘I think I had a dream about you last night,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah? I get that a lot …’

  ‘Not like that.’ She gave him a shove. ‘I mean, I was having a nightmare, I think …’ She considered telling him it was the recurring nightmare she always had but decided against it. ‘And anyway, somehow, you were there. I could hear your voice.’

  ‘That is a nightmare,’ he teased, but he wasn’t smiling. He was looking intently at her.

  ‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ she demanded. ‘You were talking to me.’

  He paused, considering. ‘Can you tell me what was happening?’

  She sighed. ‘It was this – I dunno – I get this dream …’ she said, staring out of the window, her mug drooping dangerously. He took it from her and set it down.

  ‘It’s about when you last broke your leg, isn’t it?’

  ‘It was … yes, basically … only I can’t ever remember …’ she said distractedly, banging her fists on her temples with frustration, ‘I’m just in the dark, and it’s cold.’

  He took her hands, pulling them gently away from her head and holding them in his own.

  She looked at him. ‘And I’m scared,’ she said. ‘I’m really, really scared, but I don’t know why.’

  ‘How did you break your leg, Maddy?’

  They stared at each other in silence for an age. Eventually, she looked away and spoke.

  ‘Nobody quite knows,’ she admitted. ‘I know it sounds ridiculous … I’d been out that night, drinking, here, in the Havenbury Arms. I was with Flora, and with some other people I knew vaguely; I mean, they weren’t my close friends. Just other students, you know … Kevin was there, as it happens. You know him. Anyway,’ she went on, staring into space, remembering, ‘we were playing drinking games – like you do when you’re young and stupid.’

  He nodded, smiling slightly. ‘Go on.’

  ‘That’s almost pretty much it. I remember going back to my room in student halls. At least, I think I remember … Other people have told me they saw me coming back. Flora was definitely there putting me to bed but the details … I don’t know. Sometimes I even wonder if I have a memory of it because people told me I did, if you know what I mean?’

  He nodded again, holding her gaze.

  ‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘I went to bed, I went to sleep – at least I assume I went to sleep – and then …’

  She swallowed and Ben waited patiently, not moving.

  ‘Hours later, in the middle of the night, I was found by a couple of students who were staying up late. I was outside on the ground, crawling around. Injured. The assumption was I’d been sleepwalking or something, and that I jumped or fell out of my window.’

  He whistled softly. ‘How many floors up were you?’

  ‘My room was on the third storey, so about twenty or so feet onto concrete,’ she said. ‘Unlucky, really. The term before I was on the ground floor.’

  ‘Christ,’ he exclaimed quietly. ‘And you were found underneath your window?’

  ‘No, actually, quite a few yards away. It seems I’d crawled some distance, God knows why, or where I thought I was going …’

  ‘With a broken leg,’ said Ben, wincing.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘And you don’t remember doing that?’

  She shook her head. ‘I remember the student bar. I remember the hospital, but even that is really confused. Like a series of freeze frames. I don’t know … I had other injuries too. I was concussed, which probably explains the memory loss partly. It was suggested I was almost certainly knocked out when I hit the ground. It was February. Bitterly cold. Presumably I would have died of exposure if I hadn’t been found.’

  ‘I can see why it bothers you, not remembering.’

  ‘Who says it bothers me?’

  ‘Of course it does,’ said Ben. ‘It would bother anyone. Something appalling and life-changing happened and you don’t – essentially – know what it is. I mean, do you sleepwalk ever?’

  ‘Never have, before or since.’

  ‘It probably wasn’t that then, was it?’ he said. ‘And the fear,’ he added, ‘that’s quite a consistent part of your flashback experience …’

  ‘Flashback?’ queried Maddy. ‘You mean that nightmare I have – that dream – is a real memory of sorts? A “flashback”?’

  ‘Oh yes, absolutely,’ said Ben. ‘But it’s almost deliberately incomplete. It’s your mind telling you there’s something to remember, but another part of your subconscious is refusing to let you know what it is.’

  ‘Why?’

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t have the answers,’ he admitted. ‘It could be the concussion, simple as that. But also,’ he went on, carefully, ‘it could potentially be because it’s too distressing – a form of self-defence. I see it with the soldiers I treat … they block out things until they are strong enough to process them. It’s quite a clever thing the mind does, really …’

  ‘How did you know it was going to happen last night, though?’

  ‘I thought it might, which is why I stayed close while you slept.’

  ‘So, you were there, in my head,’ she said, wonderingly.

  ‘I was,’ he agreed. ‘You were moaning. You seemed distressed. Did I help?’

  ‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘I was scared – as usual – and I felt … I don’t know, I felt that there was somebody coming – somebody who wanted to hurt me – and then, somehow, that somebody was you, and it was alright. I wasn’t afraid any more.’

  They both sat, musing for a few moments.

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ said Maddy suddenly. ‘You say you knew I was “traumatised”?’

  He nodded.

  ‘How, exactly?’

  ‘It’s my job.’

  She gave him a fierce look.

  ‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘It’s not like you’ve got it tattooed on your forehead, but I’m trained to know the signs … hypervigilance, emotional detachment, expressions of fear, and even anger, when someone makes reference to the precipitating event …’

  She remembered their conversation in the bar, when he had gently enquired about her ankle and her wariness over life in general. He was right. She had been downright hostile.

  He continued. ‘The flashbacks are occurring as nightmares now, but it concerns me that … without help, your symptoms might become more intrusive, you may start experiencing flashbacks during waking hours, for example …’

  She stared into space, horrified. Could that happen? Her eyes filled with tears.

  ‘Come on, now,’ he said, noticing. ‘I’ve seen worse cases. You’ll be fine.’ He gathered her into his arms and she relaxed against him, her head resting on his shoulder.

  ‘So,’ she said, at last, wiping her eyes and nose on what remained of his T-shirt, ‘could you help me? If I asked you to,’ she added hastily.

  ‘I’d like to,’ said Ben, looking down into her face, so vulnerable and tear-stained, ‘if you think you can let me?’

  She looked up at him and gave a tiny nod. For a long moment their eyes locked and then Ben broke the contact, letting his eyes range over her face, linge
ring on her slightly parted lips. She arched her back, drawing infinitesimally nearer but he drew away, gently but firmly placing her back against the pillows, keeping his hands on her upper arms to lightly hold her there.

  ‘This can’t happen,’ he murmured.

  ‘Why not?’ she said, dazed with longing.

  ‘You’re vulnerable,’ he said patiently. ‘You’re in no state to be making decisions like this. Your thinking’s all mixed up – with the fear, the anxiety, this – entirely understandable – preoccupation with not remembering what happened to you … plus you’re high on morphine, for goodness’ sake …’

  She sighed, sinking back into the pillows and closing her eyes. Life was not improving.

  ‘Now,’ Ben said briskly, determined to break the mood. ‘How about brunch?’

  ‘Goodness, what a good idea,’ she said, totally distracted at the thought of food. ‘I am absolutely starving!’

  ‘Not surprised,’ said Ben, getting up. ‘It’s been an awfully long while since those ham rolls on Top Down.’

  In the kitchen, he nearly groaned aloud at what he had got so close to doing. Giving in to his attraction to this woman who so clearly needed his professional help would be a disaster, not to mention that Patrick would never forgive him. But now, pushing her away, he had probably made her feel even worse …

  As a college professor he was used to kindly but firmly rejecting the attentions of his students. Outside his teaching, things were more straightforward. Offers were plentiful and he had no problem at all with mutually pleasing encounters with little or no emotional complexity or commitment. With Maddy it was different. Not only was he drawn to her when they met in the pub that day, her traumatic leg injury and his ability to help with her flashbacks had been a fast track to intimacy and trust. It was inevitable. He saw the same intense connection amongst his men who had shared danger and trauma. But the trouble with Maddy, unlike his soldier mates, was that he was finding himself increasingly drawn to her. And that made things complicated. Even if his basic moral compass wasn’t shouting in his ear, his training made the situation perfectly clear: no practitioner should combine psychiatric support with any sort of personal entanglement. It was unethical, unprofessional, immoral … and a downright stupid idea.

  Maddy eventually persuaded Ben to help her get out of bed and into Patrick’s sitting room, where they spent the day together doing what couples do on Sundays. Ben was marking his students’ papers, breaking off to produce food and cups of tea at regular intervals. Maddy was alternately dozing and browsing through the pile of Sunday papers he had produced. She felt guilty at not doing any marketing work for Simon but Ben had refused to bring her laptop to her and, in any case, her concentration was so poor she could barely get through a magazine article.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ he had said firmly. ‘You can do some work then. You just need to rest today. At least let the anaesthetic get out of your system.’

  Kevin and his mate ran the bar together – Sundays were generally quiet anyway – and Maddy was relieved he had been able to produce a sidekick at such short notice. His mysterious friend, who she vaguely recognised from her college days, slunk around in much the same way as Kevin did: taciturn, morose and secretive.

  ‘I don’t trust him,’ said Maddy to Ben again when they were alone. ‘I can’t put my finger on it but he makes me nervous.’ She didn’t say that she even wondered if he were somehow working for the ghastly Dennis, who would love to have an excuse for Top Taverns to take the pub away from Patrick.

  ‘I’ll watch him tonight,’ said Ben. ‘When he’s running the bar.’

  ‘What for? You won’t see him doing anything. I wondered if he was stealing but, I have to admit, the bar receipts always tally. I’ve checked.’

  ‘Maybe there’s nothing to see … but there might be,’ said Ben. ‘You never know.’

  ‘Cooeee!’ came the voice from downstairs. ‘Anybody dying for a cup of tea they don’t have to make themselves?’ It continued as what sounded like a herd of elephants came trampling up the stairs.

  ‘Morning!’ called Serena, bursting into the sitting room where Ben had brought Maddy before leaving for college an hour before.

  ‘Ben gave me the key – I hope you don’t mind. It all sounded very dramatic: compound fracture, miles from anywhere … poor you,’ she continued, swooping down to kiss Maddy on both cheeks.

  ‘Of course I don’t mind. Hello, boys.’

  ‘Ah yes,’ Serena said. ‘Here they are, my two little buggers. Half-term, apparently. They insisted on coming home.’ She ruffled the hair of one. ‘Not sure if you’ve been properly introduced so this is Harry – my nine-year-old,’ and then, putting the other in a headlock, which was more of a hug, ‘and this huge heffalump is Josh, just turned eleven. Boys, say “Hello, Maddy”.’

  ‘Hello, Maddy,’ they chorused, grinning cheerfully.

  ‘Now,’ continued Serena, ‘I’m under strict orders from “he who must be obeyed” not to tire you out, but – basically – we are entirely at your disposal today. So, other than the meeting this afternoon with the Brighton nerdy web boys, what’s the plan?’

  ‘Yikes, we haven’t got that meeting already, have we? I haven’t prepared …’

  ‘Don’t need to,’ replied Serena. ‘All sorted.’

  Maddy looked concerned. ‘But what about the boys?’

  ‘Oh, they’ll be fine.’ She waved, airily. ‘They’ll wait in the car if we bribe them with a McDonald’s. They’ll do anything for chicken nuggets. Horrendous things,’ she shuddered. ‘Still … needs must.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s not what they want to spend half-term doing, is it?’

  ‘That’s only this afternoon,’ said Serena. ‘This morning they’re going to work like bastard Trojans for you, aren’t you, my lovelies?’

  They nodded and grinned.

  ‘Mummy – I mean, Mum?’ asked Harry. ‘Are we getting pocket money for helping Maddy?’

  ‘’Course we are,’ chipped in Josh. ‘We need to negotiate. Leave it to me …’

  ‘He is his father’s son,’ said Serena. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Yeah, whatever,’ said Josh. ‘So, we’re doing chores for Maddy this morning and it’s nine o’clock now. We’re going to Brighton at about twelve – that’s three hours … I’m calculating that’ll be … a fiver,’ he finished, meeting Maddy’s eyes, his head tilted slightly back.

  ‘A fiver, eh?’ she narrowed her eyes.

  ‘Each. Obviously.’

  ‘Obviously,’ echoed Maddy, stroking her chin. ‘Okay, boys,’ she said with a chuckle, ‘you’ve got yourselves a deal.’

  ‘Cool,’ said Josh, offering his hand.

  With minimal direction from Serena, the boys cleaned the kitchen, emptied the bins and wastepaper baskets and then dusted and hoovered the entire flat.

  Meanwhile, Serena helped Maddy to have a bath, carefully ensuring her cast didn’t get wet.

  ‘Josh broke his leg last year,’ she reminisced. ‘He’s such a liability,’ she said as she rinsed shampoo out of Maddy’s hair. ‘He wasn’t thrilled at having to have his mum help him wash, I can tell you.’

  ‘I was dying for this,’ admitted Maddy, ‘but I wasn’t going to ask Ben.’

  ‘He knew that. It’s partly why he phoned me. Obviously I’d have been furious if he hadn’t. Now, on with your clothes.’

  ‘Good grief, it’s Tuesday tomorrow, isn’t it? My mum’s arriving at about four o’clock. I haven’t got her room ready. I was actually going to buy some new sheets for the bed. There aren’t even enough pillows …’

  ‘Shopping!’ exclaimed Serena. ‘My absolute favourite thing. Now … let’s get you settled in the sitting room. Ben says you can have your laptop today, if you’re good.’

  ‘Big of him.’

  Serena ignored her. ‘I’ll sort you out with a cup of tea and leave you directing the boys while I pop down to that new homewares store. I was looking for an excuse.’

  Pirate
looked relieved to have some company, having been brought up from the bar again by Ben before he left. Maddy persuaded Serena to let him out of his cage for a breather while she was out. Throwing Serena an old-fashioned look – clearly he blamed her for his incarceration – he flew up to the curtain rail and mooched backwards and forwards along it, muttering to himself before crouching moodily and glaring at the two boys who tried to entice him down with bird seed and slices of banana.

  Serena returned in under an hour carrying pretty white cotton bedsheets with a delicate lavender sprig pattern on them, a new pair of down pillows, tea towels for the kitchen (the others were a horror, Serena reported with a shudder) as well as two huge bunches of stocks, which she split amongst five jugs, plonking some by the newly made spare bed, some on the kitchen windowsill and the remainder on the coffee table in the sitting room.

  ‘This is miraculous,’ said Maddy, hobbling around the flat trying out her crutches. The boys were even cleaning the insides of the windows, letting the low autumn sunlight flood into the flat.

  ‘My mum will be pretty impressed,’ she added, with relief. ‘And Patrick too, when he finally gets home.’

  ‘How is the darling?’ asked Serena. ‘We’ve all been so worried about him.’

  The corners of Maddy’s mouth turned down at the thought. ‘Okay,’ she said, slightly tremulously. Really she needed to get a grip and stop all this bursting into tears. She took a deep breath and continued. ‘Ben said he was in great form on Saturday night. He’s recovering well from the surgery, for sure, but, I don’t know … things are going to have to change for him now. He won’t be able to keep working at the pace he has for all these years. I hadn’t realised until recently, but he’s in his sixties! Did you know that?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ said Serena. ‘He doesn’t look it.’

  ‘He sort of does now,’ said Maddy.

  ‘I just can’t think of him as old. He’s still an attractive man,’ she mused, ‘but it might be about time he was thinking about winding down a bit. Do you suppose he could be convinced to do that?’