Together Apart

by Natalie K. Martin

  She shook her head and threw up again.

  ‘Hold on.’ He made his way round to the driver’s side and sat beside her. ‘Here.’

  He held out a bottle of water, and she took it with trembling hands. She looked awful.

  ‘You should have something to eat.’

  She took a small sip of water and shook her head. ‘I’m alright.’

  ‘Having something in your stomach will stop you from feeling ill.’ He held out half of his chicken and bacon sandwich. She shook her head again, but he kept his hand where it was. ‘Take it.’

  She looked at him for a few seconds before closing the car door and taking the sandwich.

  ‘Are you okay to go?’ he asked, putting his seatbelt on. She nodded back at him, and he turned on the engine, giving her the plastic bag, just in case.

  He knew full well what was making her ill, but he wasn’t going to be the one to refer to it first. He just hoped that they’d make it the rest of the way without needing to pull over for her to throw up again.

  Adam looked at the clock on the dashboard as they turned off the motorway. They were on the outskirts of Sheffield, and nerves had kicked in. He was nervous for Sarah and nervous about what the day was going to bring. He was sure he wasn’t imagining the heavy weight of expectation that had been in the air since he woke up.

  ‘Looks like we’re going to be early. How far is the cemetery?’ he asked.

  ‘Not far. About fifteen minutes.’

  She reached down for her handbag, and as she rifled through it, he caught a glimpse of the pink cover. His cheeks burned. She still had no idea that he’d read what she’d written on those pages, and once again he felt a wave of guilt rush over him for reading it.

  ‘What do you want to do?’ he asked. They had well over an hour before the service was due to start, and he didn’t fancy the idea of hanging around in a cemetery.

  She pulled a hairband out of her bag and twisted her hair up into a bun. ‘I dunno. I should see Mum, I guess.’ She shrugged. ‘She doesn’t live far.’

  Adam nodded and allowed Sarah to guide him as they drove through to the city centre. So this was where she was from – a place with white and purple buses and trams trundling across the roads. What was she thinking? She’d gone so out of her way to hide this part of her life from him, and now they were here together. He couldn’t deny the small thrill inside about her finally letting him in, even under these circumstances. They passed old factory buildings and warehouses with windows blackened by dust, grime and overgrown foliage. They had clearly seen better days, but as they approached the city centre, quiet, potholed streets gave way to roads with freshly laid tarmac and the gleam of new, modern architecture. He looked over at Sarah as she gazed out of the window. How long had it been since she’d been back here? It was possible that the city had changed so much in her absence that everything around them was as foreign to her as it was to him.

  ‘You need to take the second exit,’ Sarah said as they neared a large roundabout.

  She bit her thumbnail as they drove up a hill, past a sprawling block of flats. He didn’t need to ask if she was nervous, as her leg bounced up and down.

  ‘Next left.’

  He wanted to reach over and put his hand on her knee to calm her down. Instead, he followed her instruction and drove up yet another hill. The road wound around a series of bends, and he saw a large playing field against a panoramic view of the city. The rain hadn’t stopped, but even through the curtain of drizzle, he could see the expanse of buildings and houses stretching into the distance. He could just about make out the green dome of Meadowhall Shopping Centre. He remembered seeing a picture of it in a geography textbook in school.

  They followed the road round onto a street lined with identical semi-detached houses on either side, and somehow Adam knew that this was the street where Sarah grew up. She pointed ahead to a house with a neatly trimmed hedge and sloped drive.

  ‘You can pull up there.’

  He parked outside the house and turned off the engine.

  ‘We’re not staying for long. I want to get to the cemetery in time,’ she said. Her voice sounded stilted, almost robotic, as if she were repeating a mantra.

  Adam nodded. ‘Sure. Whatever you want.’

  He thought back to her diaries. This house held some unhappy memories for her, but he was intrigued to finally see it for himself. It was like her diaries were coming to life.

  He’d made the right choice by offering to bring her up here. Something was telling him that this was exactly where he was supposed to be.

  31.

  Adam looked up at the house as he followed her up the sloped driveway. Red roses were carved into the mottled glass in the white PVC doorframe, but instead of going through the front door, Sarah opened the gate to the side of the house. The side door opened, and a woman with a dark-blonde bob stepped through, stretching her arms out.

  ‘Sarah?’

  Sarah looked awkward and strangely shy as she was drawn into a hug by the woman he assumed was her mum.

  ‘I can’t believe it’s you!’

  Adam couldn’t miss the shock, excitement and heartbreak in her voice as she squeezed Sarah.

  ‘Hi, Mum,’ Sarah said in a quiet voice.

  Sarah’s mum stepped back and looked at her with a huge smile on her face. The resemblance between them was striking. She had the same amber eyes and heart-shaped face as Sarah and Claire.

  Sarah turned to Adam. ‘Mum, this is Adam.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, Mrs . . .’

  ‘Caroline,’ Sarah interrupted him. ‘Her name is Caroline.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, Caroline,’ Adam said, reaching out to shake her hand.

  Sarah had cut in quite sharply, saving him. He had been about to call her Mrs Collins, but she’d probably taken Peter’s name when she remarried.

  Caroline smiled at him and looked at Sarah, obviously waiting for further information.

  ‘I’m – er, a friend of Sarah’s,’ he said with what he hoped looked like a smile.

  He tried not to let his shoulders sag with disappointment. It was clear that Sarah hadn’t spoken to her mum for at least a year. Or if she had, she hadn’t told her that she was in a relationship. There hadn’t been a single spark of recognition in Caroline’s eyes when he’d introduced himself.

  ‘Well, come in,’ she grinned, and they followed her into the warmth of the kitchen.

  It was small and exceptionally clean. Not one thing was out of place, and it reminded him of a display in a kitchen showroom. A row of ceramic frogs sat on the windowsill behind the sink, and as he looked around, he saw more on the corner shelves at the end of the cupboard units. They all looked in pristine condition.

  ‘You should have told me you were coming. I only spoke to Claire a few days ago, and she didn’t mention anything about you coming up,’ Caroline said in a broad accent, standing to one side and ushering them through to the hallway.

  ‘It was a last-minute decision.’

  ‘I would have sorted out some tea if I’d known.’

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ Sarah replied tersely.

  ‘Okay,’ Caroline said. Adam didn’t miss the flicker of disappointment across her face. ‘Would you like a drink . . . I’m sorry, what was your name again?’

  ‘It’s Adam,’ he smiled, ‘and yes, please.’

  She nodded at him and gestured for them to go into the living room. Sarah stood in the middle of the room.

  ‘Sit down, make yourself at home.’ She smiled and left them alone in a room with more pictures on the walls than wallpaper.

  He watched as Sarah walked around the room, looking at them all. He followed her path, looking at the images of Sarah and Claire, from babies to adults. How had she become so distant from them? From what he could see, they were a close family, for a while
at least. There were pictures of Sarah and Claire on swings, holding ice cream cones on beaches, on bicycles, in gardens, in cars. As Sarah made her way around the room, the pictures of her seemed to diminish until they were only of Claire – graduation, parties and with Caroline. It was like Sarah had ceased to exist altogether.

  She moved towards the fireplace and looked up at the clock ticking on the wall, with its pendulum swinging back and forth as the seconds quietly ticked by. She picked up a photo from the mantelpiece and stared at it.

  ‘Do you want a cup of tea, Sarah?’ Caroline called from the kitchen.

  ‘No, I’m fine.’ Sarah put the photo back, turned and looked at Adam as if she’d forgotten he was there. Her face turned red, and he looked away from her before sitting on the sofa.

  He caught a glimpse of the photo Sarah had been holding: Caroline standing next to a man he presumed to be Peter.

  Sarah sat next to him and put her hands in her lap. His family home exuded warmth. There didn’t even have to be anyone in the room; there was just an air of comfort to it. This house was different. It felt dead somehow. He looked at the peach wallpaper and fluffy green carpet. Everything was neat and tidy, so much so that he couldn’t imagine anyone actually living here. The television was on mute, and aside from the sound of Caroline making the drinks and the ticking of the clock on the wall, it was oddly quiet.

  Caroline walked into the living room carrying a small tray holding three cups of tea and set it down on the coffee table. She picked one up and settled into the armchair.

  ‘So, how are you, duck? What brings you back?’

  Adam smiled to himself at the term of endearment.

  ‘A friend of mine died. You remember Richard?’

  Caroline looked up to the ceiling in thought.

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Sarah sighed.

  ‘Was he that boy you used to knock about with? From school?’

  ‘I said, it doesn’t matter.’

  Adam swallowed a gulp of tea and shifted on the sofa. Every movement he made sounded amplified in the silence of the living room. The undercurrent of tension hung stale in the air. Maybe he should leave them to it. They clearly had things to talk about. Caroline looked at Sarah with sad eyes, and Sarah looked out of the window. It was a strange reunion. Why had Sarah suggested they come here when, from what he could see, it was the last place she wanted to be?

  Caroline craned her neck to look out of the window. ‘Peter’s back.’

  Sarah sighed. ‘Great.’

  So, he was about to meet Peter – Sarah’s bogeyman. Adam listened as the side door opened and closed.

  ‘Look who’s here.’ Caroline looked past Adam with a smile that looked like it could leap off her face. He turned to see Peter standing in the doorway, taking off his gloves.

  ‘Sarah.’ Peter smiled. ‘What a lovely surprise.’

  Adam waited for Sarah to reply, but she didn’t. From the corner of his eye, he saw her pick up the cup of tea she’d initially declined.

  ‘This is Adam.’ Caroline shot Adam a small smile, triumphant at remembering his name. ‘He’s a friend of Sarah’s. Adam, this is my husband, Peter.’

  Peter shook his hand, and Adam tried to forget everything he’d read about him. Sarah had written in her diaries from the point of view of a teenage girl who hated her new father figure after the death of her dad. It wasn’t surprising she didn’t like him, but it wouldn’t be fair to show any bias, especially when he wasn’t supposed to know anything about their history at all. Peter took off his coat and sat in the empty armchair opposite them.

  ‘Well, this is nice, even though we weren’t expecting you.’ Adam didn’t miss that, even when met with Sarah’s stony silence, Peter’s smile didn’t falter. In fact, he looked genuinely pleased to see them. ‘So, Adam, how do you know our Sarah?’

  Man. How was he supposed to answer that one? Adam looked at Sarah, but her face was expressionless. What was with her? It was like she was determined not to show any reaction to Peter whatsoever. Didn’t she realise how awkward she was making everything? Adam hesitated. There was something about Peter that made him want to tell the truth.

  After reading Sarah’s diaries, he’d pictured Peter as a huge, imposing type of man, but now he’d met him for himself, Adam couldn’t compute the image he’d had to the reality.

  There was nothing intimidating about Peter at all. He was distinctly average – average height, average weight, average mousy brown hair, and he wore wire-rimmed glasses. He looked like the type of guy who wore shorts with socks and sandals in summer. In short, he looked harmless. Was this really Sarah’s teenage nemesis? Peter looked at Adam before looking at Sarah and gave a small nod. His question had already been answered. Adam’s silence had clearly told him that his relationship with Sarah wasn’t straightforward.

  ‘It’s a shame Claire’s not here as well,’ Caroline said. ‘It would be so nice to have my girls here together. It’s been such a long time.’

  ‘About nine years, isn’t it?’ Peter replied, looking directly at Sarah.

  ‘She’s working,’ Sarah replied. It was the first time she’d spoken since Peter had come in the room.

  ‘Sarah’s here for a funeral,’ Caroline said, looking at Peter. ‘It’s for that lad she used to knock about with after school.’

  ‘Richard,’ Sarah said. ‘And it’s not his funeral. It’s a memorial.’

  Peter nodded his head. ‘Yes, I remember. We never met him, though, did we? Such a shame to die at such a young age. I’m sorry to hear the news.’

  ‘I didn’t think you’d care,’ Sarah said, muttering into her cup.

  ‘Of course I care. He was special to you, wasn’t he?’

  ‘You made my life hell when we were together,’ Sarah replied, sounding every inch like the teenage girl Adam had read about in her diaries.

  ‘That’s not fair, Sarah,’ Peter said, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair and interlocking his fingers.

  Sarah waved her hand. ‘Whatever. I know how I felt, and it was your fault.’

  Caroline sighed. ‘Sarah, please. It’s such a treat for you to be here; let’s not argue.’

  ‘Well, stop acting like we’re one big happy family then. Stop acting like you care.’

  ‘Sarah.’ Peter shook his head. ‘Whatever you might think, you’re a part of this family. You always have been, and you always will be.’

  Sarah scowled and drank her tea. Adam had never seen her like this before, and he wanted to grab her by the shoulders and give her a shake. As far as he could see, Peter was being genuine, but Sarah was refusing to accept it. If there was one thing he knew about her, it was that she was as stubborn as hell, and he was beginning to think that she was doing nothing more than holding onto a grudge that she didn’t need to keep.

  Peter looked at Caroline. ‘Darling, have you shown her the box yet?’

  ‘No, not yet. I forgot. Come on, love. I’ve got something to show you,’ Caroline replied, looking at Sarah.

  Sarah sighed. ‘What box?’

  ‘We found some of the pictures you used to have up on your wall when we cleared out the loft. You know, the ones of you and all your friends? There’s some of your dad in there too. We thought you might like to have them.’

  Caroline smiled and held out her hand to Sarah. The box sounded like something nice to Adam, but from the way Sarah had been acting, he almost expected her to stomp out of the room as she followed her mum.

  He heard them head upstairs and tried not to look at Peter. He looked out of the window, at the floor, at the walls and at the ceiling – everywhere but in Peter’s direction. He didn’t know what to say to him. The truth was, he felt sorry for him.

  ‘So, what do you do then, Adam?’

  Adam cleared his throat. ‘I’m a property manager.’

  ‘That’s goo
d. Something tangible, not like a lot of the young ones around here who don’t seem to do anything at all. And what about Sarah? How’s her job going?’

  ‘Fine, I think. She doesn’t really talk about it a lot. I guess it’s one of those jobs where you want to switch off at the end of the day.’

  Peter nodded. ‘You’ve known each other for some time? I gathered there’s some sort of history between the two of you.’

  Adam ran a hand across his chin. ‘It’s complicated’.

  ‘It always is.’ Peter smiled. ‘I know she sees me as the devil. The evil stepfather. She’s always been difficult.’

  Adam bit the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t about to take sides in this argument.

  ‘By all accounts, Sarah took her dad’s death hard. Both of them did, but it was especially hard for her. She wasn’t bubbly and open like Claire was. When Caroline and I first started courting, she was already self-destructive, and it got worse after we married and moved here. I thought I could help at first. Needless to say, every effort I made got sharply thrown back at me, and it’s Caroline who suffered because of it.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ Adam asked.

  ‘Has Sarah told you much about her family? That Caroline was an alcoholic?’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head. It wasn’t a direct lie. He knew about her mum’s alcoholism from her diaries, but Sarah hadn’t actually told him anything.

  Peter sighed, stood up and jammed his hands into his pockets as he walked to the window. ‘Sarah was vulnerable back then. She’d lost her dad and moved to a new area. I suppose she started hanging around with a new group of friends, and soon she started staying out late and skipping school. It’s normal teenage stuff, I know, but it became unbearable for Caroline. The constant arguments and resistance to discipline . . . It took its toll on her. Of course it’s not only because of Sarah that she ended up drinking, but it certainly didn’t help.’

  ‘And now?’ Adam asked.

  ‘She’s still an alcoholic. She always will be. It took a long time, but she doesn’t drink anymore. I love the girls as if they’re my own, but Caroline was always my number-one priority.’