Sleep Peacefully

by NC Marshall

  The icy wind whips through my loose hair and bites sharply into my exposed skin. I wrap my heavy woollen cardigan around myself tighter and fold my arms across my chest, trying to restrain my uncontrollable shivering. My eyes are raw and swollen from crying, blurring my vision, and my throat is dry. I have a headache that is gradually exploding towards the back of my skull, and my limbs feel stiff.

  I glance around the expanse of the cliff top. I know the place well, and tonight it looks beautiful, delicately lit by the white haze of light from the almost full moon above. Further back on the cliff top stands a large solitary tree with a wooden park style bench beneath it. The leaves on the tree are long gone, its branches bare, spreading out wildly into the night sky, illuminated in orange by a nearby street lamp. The grass here glistens with a thickening layer of frost, as I walk closer to the cliff’s edge. There isn’t a soul around. Then again, it’s bitterly cold and the winter nights are now firmly settled in. Why would any sane person want to be up here? There are tiny rows of light from nearby houses in the far distance. I imagine the people in them getting on with their regular nightly routine, maybe having supper or cosied up in front of the television, with their fires blazing. The faint smell of a wood burning fire hangs in the air, it reminds me of home.

  I hold my breath, fighting back yet another episode of tears as I look down at my feet, unwillingly guiding me closer to the edge. I feel so alone and empty. I no longer have any dreams or aspirations. I've no job, and now no husband, all because of my own stupid actions. There is no purpose in fighting anymore. The pain I feel inside is so intense I can barely breathe, I’m not sure I can cope, I don’t have the strength. My stomach is in knots. What have I done?

  The grass is slightly damp from an earlier rain as I near the edge of the cliff face. I can smell the salt in the air from the sea raging beneath me. I peer down to the isolated beach so far below. The tide is out, and the waves crash roughly against the sandy beach. Once a bustling place of fun, love and memories for me, it is now a deserted piece of land that I no longer wish to relate to. I stand teetering on the edge, feeling a sensation of freedom that I have not felt for a very long time. It’s so peaceful up here, it always has been, but tonight the quiet is deafening me. I look up to the cloudless night sky and then back down to the shoreline that now feels closer, somehow. I close my eyes tightly and take a deep breath. Slowly I unfold my arms from across my torso, letting them hang loosely at my sides. And then, everything becomes dark.

  Chapter 4

  I awake in a darkened room, unsure of where I am. I quickly take in my surroundings, studying the bedroom carefully. The heavy rain has not subsided and it lashes angrily at the bedroom window. Shadows from the branches of the trees outside sway in the forceful wind, creating sharp-edged patterns against the bedroom wall. I am hot, sweltering, and my brow and back are both damp. My hair is stuck to the back of my neck, my mouth is dry, and my lips feel chapped and flaky. I put a hand to my forehead where beads of sweat have gathered across my hairline and wipe at it. I’m so fed up with this.

  Dan is sleeping soundly next to me. I can hear him breathing, and vaguely make out his silhouette in the dark room, his chest rising and falling in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. His arm is slung heavily across my stomach, and his legs entwine with mine as if trying to hold me down, to protect me. Usually, during these dreams, I thrash around. I’m glad Dan’s here tonight, his presence helps me to remember where I am, who I am.

  I slowly get up, gently untangling my body from Dan’s grip and quietly leave the room, to head downstairs. While on my way to the kitchen I try desperately to shake off the images that I can still see flashing through my mind. It’s been almost a year since Jess’s death, yet still, even now, the dream feels as vivid and real as ever.

  It started on the night before Jess’s funeral. I had been to see her body that day. I’d felt that it was something I had to do, that somehow seeing her would make things seem realer, make me understand that my sister was truly never coming back.

  Jess’s coffin was laid out in a room at the funeral parlor. Mum had chosen one of the top of the range caskets, and in my opinion, had also gone massively overboard with the flower arrangements and the wake, too. I knew that all she wanted was to send off her daughter in style. But I couldn’t help thinking Jess would have been angry that Mum had wasted so much money on such an unnecessary and flamboyant display. She had never been one for extravagance in any way, shape or form.

  We were told that the fall had caused internal injuries, but a fatal blow to the back of Jess’s head, sustained from the impact of the rocks she had landed on, is what had actually killed her. We were assured that her death would have been instant, which in some morbid way was a blessing to us. Knowing that she hadn’t suffered came as a sort of comfort.

  I had been nervous about visiting her and didn’t know what to expect, given the nature of how she died, but when I saw her the injuries didn’t even look like they existed. I knew that this was mainly due to the fact they were cleverly hidden from our view. She looked like she was asleep, as if I could just reach out and shake her until she woke, like I used to do every morning when she was little, when it was time to get up and get ready for school. I’d lean over her and whisper quietly in her ear, so I didn’t startle her. Wakey, Wakey sleepy head! Jess loved her sleep and had been a nightmare to wake up in the mornings. She was much more of a night owl than a morning person, and had been all of her life.

  She was dressed in a navy blue pinstriped trouser suit which Mum had picked out for her to wear; it looked brand new. I had never seen Jess in a suit before and she looked a little odd wearing it. She was more of a jeans and trainers type of girl, or maybe a loose fitting dress and flip flops during the summer months. The outfit made her look too serious, older somehow. I wished I had gone with Mum to the apartment to help her and Matt pick out something for her to wear. It just wasn’t Jess’s style.

  I don’t even know why she would have had that suit in her wardrobe in the first place, other than maybe for an important meeting she had to attend when she worked. Even then, her day to day attire was normally quite informal. I would have picked out an entirely different outfit; maybe that peach chiffon blouse that she liked so much. Her favourite pair of black skinny jeans, teamed with the Christian Louboutin stilettos, which she managed to blag from the wardrobe department at the magazine she had worked for. Jess’s powers of persuasion had been incredible. She had the capability to wrap anyone around her little finger without them even knowing it.

  Her long blonde hair lay loose, hanging down past her shoulders as she had regularly worn it, but it didn’t have the same golden sheen that it always used to. Her skin was a horrible shade of white, pale and ashen, almost transparent. I remember holding my finger to her cheek, it was cold, and her skin was dry. She had way too much eye makeup on too, Jess would never wear that much makeup. She could always get away with a simple dab of blusher and a lick of nude coloured lipgloss. Maybe a little mascara if she was going out. Her natural beauty had never required it.

  My hand lingered on her cheek for a few minutes, before Dan put his hand on my shoulder and led me out of the room. Silently knowing that it was time to leave, I nodded. I took his hand and followed him, taking one final glance over my shoulder before I left. I broke down once I was outside. I fell to my knees on the pavement and cried for the first time since learning of her death. It’s almost as though my head had suddenly communicated a withheld message to my heart, which had instantly split it in two. That's the last time I would see her. Everything felt so final at that point and it was too much to handle.

  The funeral the next day was beautiful. It affirmed to us all how popular and loved my sister had been. It was such a rough day, I sometimes wonder how the family had managed to muster up the strength to stick through. It’s amazing where the bravery comes from when a tragedy you never imagined happening strikes as it did. Matt had been so strong. He had lost not only his wife, but
his best friend. He was a rock for all of us throughout the whole day, putting his own grief to the side to ensure we were all coping.

  The service was held in a small chapel near where we grew up. There were so many people there. The crowds flooded out of the chapel, continuing right up to the iron gates at the grounds entrance. Jess had been buried next to our dad’s grave, who we had lost five years earlier. Both had been awash with beautiful flowers spilling out over them. I had been hoping that the funeral would bring me some closure, but when the dreams began that night I knew that closure was going to be a long way off.

  I make myself a milky mug of hot chocolate and head to the conservatory. The room looks out through the glass panels of the structure over our large garden, which tonight looks cold, soggy and uninviting. I crawl onto the sofa, pulling a fleeced blanket over me, and try again to clear my mind that is still flashing through cliff top images from my dream. I switch on a small lamp on the table near me. It quickly illuminates one side of the room, the rest remains shrouded in darkness. A strong smell lingers in the air. I glance around and see that it’s coming from the lilies that sit in an attractive arrangement in a glass vase on the table beside me.

  We have lived in this house for six years now, and I know that I am lucky. Our house is large, and located in a very sought-after part of town. It sits entirely in its own grounds, overlooking the rolling hills of the countryside. However, it’s still merely a half hour drive to the city centre. It’s strange; I used to love living in the city so much when I was younger but now I couldn’t conceive of anything worse. I enjoy the peace and quiet here. Although it’s quite remote, it never feels totally isolated from civilization. I love this house, and I can’t envisage myself being anywhere else and honestly calling it home.

  A creak on the wooden floorboards interrupts my thoughts. I look towards the kitchen where Dan stands beside the large island at its heart, fixing himself a drink. He quickly appears in the doorway near where I sit. His chest is bare, he’s wearing only a pair of blue and white striped lounge pants. He yawns, stretching, then glances at the clock on the wall nearby as he leans against the door frame and rubs at his eyes in an effort to wake himself up. I silently pat the space next to me on the sofa, and he sits down.

  “You have the dream again?” he asks in a voice still laced with sleep. I nod back, drawing my knees towards my chest and gripping them tightly. These late night talks have become a regular occurrence lately. I feel so guilty that Dan feels he has to console me every time the dream comes back. He softly rubs at my bare knee and moves closer.

  “The doctor did say that it might take a while, hun,” he offers. I nod once more, my eyes filling up with tears.

  “I know,” I whisper.

  I had gone to see Dr Peterson a month after Jess died. The dreams came almost every night in those days. It was constantly the same dream, over and over, night after night, entering my rest and boring relentlessly into my mind. I was both physically and mentally exhausted. I knew that I had no other option than to seek some sort of professional help.

  Douglas Peterson is a highly recommended councillor who is based at the city clinic and specialises in issues linked to bereavement. He is a genuine, kind-hearted man and superb at his job. I did feel better, meeting with him in his office on a weekly basis, reminiscing over the old times I had with Jess. He was easy to talk to. I felt as though I could tell him anything at all and he would listen, without question or judgement.

  As the sessions concluded, it was his opinion that the dreams were linked to the loss of my sister and the guilt that I felt for her dying. Chances were high that until I came to terms with the fact there was nothing I could have done to prevent her death, the dreams would continue. Although their frequency had reduced somewhat, he was correct in the diagnosis.

  “There was nothing you could have done,” Dan says, squeezing my hands, which are still clasped firmly around my mug. I look down and notice my knuckles are starting to turn white, I’m gripping it so hard.

  “You were an incredible sister, Nat. She knew you were always there whenever she needed you. It was an accident and nothing that you could have done would have changed what happened.”

  I nod again. He must get fed up repeating the same words to me all of the time. My mind knows they are right, but I still don’t fully believe them in my heart.

  I am suddenly exhausted again. I lay my head back on the cushion behind my head and place my still full mug of cold chocolate on the silver coffee table in front of me. I lift my feet onto the sofa and Dan squeezes in behind me, lying down parallel with my body and pulling me close. I turn my head, laying it against his bare chest and pull the blanket over us both, hearing his heart beat slowly and the warmth of his skin against mine. I feel instantly better. For the second time that night I close my eyes and quickly drift off to sleep. This time, thankfully, the dream does not return.

  Chapter 5

  It’s Saturday morning and I am in high spirits as I strap Josh into the back seat of the car and head toward my mum’s house. It’s yet another glorious day, and although fresh and crisp, the sun shines brightly and puts me in a good mood. I haven’t had the dream since Monday night. I’m hoping that this is the last I will see of it.

  Dan has a rare full day off work and there is football on the TV all afternoon. I’ve left him at home, where he is quite happy to be left chilling in front of the box, no doubt stuffing his face with junk food. He has been working hard lately and deserves the chance to relax and have some time alone at home for once. I decide to use the spare time to pop out and visit Mum. It’s been a few weeks and I know she gets lonely without Dad, even though she doesn’t admit to it.

  As we set off, Josh talks to himself, playing happily in the back of the car. Once again the huge stuffed blue dinosaur is in tow—I struggle to separate the two of them lately. I call my mum on the hands-free as soon as we set off to tell her I’m on my way. She sounds pleased and instantly tells me that she has prepared a tasty lunch for when we arrive. I’m sure that woman’s prime task in life is to feed me up until I burst. She always makes such a fuss when we visit and wouldn’t have it any other way.

  As I finish my phone call to Mum and hang up, the phone rings again. I press the button on the steering wheel to answer it, grinning as I see the caller display and know what is coming.

  “Hi trouble,” I say, as I turn off the busy dual carriageway that I’m on and follow a much quieter road, heading north towards the lake.

  “Hi Nat,” my brother replies in a very cheery and excited tone of voice. I laugh at him, knowing full well what he is calling me for, but wanting to hear the news from him first.

  “I’m taking it the answer was yes, then?” I ask, unable to stand the anticipation.

  The line is still quiet a few seconds later. I grin again, because I know that the answer was never going to be a ‘no.’

  My younger brother Ryan is twenty-eight and an all-around fantastic guy. With all of our dad’s characteristics and charm, he is the most honest, generous and selfless person I know. He looks so much like Dad too, with his slim build, dark eyes, and handsome boyish features. It melts my heart to look at him. We have always been close, and Jess’s death has only brought us closer. Today, he’s called to tell me he has eventually gotten around to proposing to his girlfriend, Lola.

  The family had all known about the surprise proposal, I even helped him pick out the ring a month or so ago. He had taken Lola on a short break to Paris, and yesterday proposed on bended knee, in the middle of a bustling Champs Elysees. Apparently, they even received an enormous round of applause by passersby who had realised what he was up to. Trust Ryan to be different and rebel against the famous tradition of popping the question at the top of the Eiffel Tower. The pair had returned home on a flight early this morning, but he couldn’t wait to announce their news and I was the first one he wanted to tell. I can’t be any happier for them both. I know Jess would have been thrilled, too.

/>   Lola had been a good friend to Jess. They first met at a wine bar that they both worked in during their time at university, and they had hit it off immediately. Lola would later go travelling with Jess, and although Jess came home early due to our father’s state of health, they remained close friends until her death.

  Jess had adored matchmaking and played cupid to a number of couples over the years. So, when she arranged a party to welcome Lola home from her travels, it wasn’t a surprise when she introduced her to Ryan, and they fell in love almost instantly. Jess was ecstatic when they announced they were officially a couple, followed by the news a short while after that they had a baby on the way.

  “We’re all going out tonight to celebrate,” says Ryan excitedly, still sounding like he is on cloud nine. “I’m hoping you and Dan can make it?” I snap back to reality and don’t hesitate in answering him.

  “Of course,” I reply, “where and when?”

  We arrange to meet at eight o’clock that night. Ryan has booked a table in one of my favourite Italian restaurants in the city, so I’m looking forward to it. I call Dan to tell him. He will be away with work next week and taking a flight to London tomorrow morning, but tells me he will just take it easy with the beers and will be okay. I hang up and clap my hands together, before setting them loosely back on the steering wheel and focussing my eyes firmly on the road ahead. Finally, something to celebrate, exactly what my family needs.