Sleep Peacefully

by NC Marshall

  *

  I turn a sharp corner and head closer to the lake. I had lived in this town all my childhood since birth and yet still, whenever I return, the beauty of the place takes my breath away.

  The lake spans out as far as the eye can see, shimmering under the bright low autumn sun. It’s approaching lunchtime now. There are people everywhere as I drive through the small town centre. I watch them contently as they lap up the atmosphere produced by the lake, enjoying spending time with family and friends on such a delightful afternoon. The lake itself is a hive of activity today, with canoes and pedalos littering its waters. The small village-style shops are bustling with people peering in the windows, while weekend visitors walk the old cobbled alleyways, clutching bags from the nearby gift shop and traditional confectionery.

  I leave the town centre behind and turn down the avenue leading to my mum’s house. The broad pavements are lined with tall trees on both sides of the road. The leaves on the trees are thick and starting to show signs in their colouring that the season is now changing, a hint that winter is fast approaching. Every so often, the bright sun peeps through the gaps in the shade they provide.

  I pass a few houses before I get to the end of the road. The second to last house, standing closest to ours, is where Matt used to live growing up. Our families had been close friends since the O’Brian’s had moved into the house, shortly after I was born. Matt is the same age as Jess was, so they had grown up together and had been close friends since they could walk. They’d gone through school and college together, then even on to the same university, remaining close throughout. It was inevitable that they would continue on to fall in love and get married; it had been a prediction for them since they were kids.

  Matt’s parents still live in that house. Although we don’t see much of his dad these days, his mum remains a close friend of ours. I’m glad that Mum has someone living so close that she can turn to if needed, and Mary has been a great friend to her over the years.

  I pull onto the light gravel driveway, which crunches under the tyres as I approach the house. Stepping out of the car, I breathe in, filling my lungs to capacity with the intoxicating fresh air surrounding me. The air here always seems so light and pure. If I could bottle it and sell it, I have no doubt I would be a tremendously wealthy woman. Putting up my hand to shield my eyes from the bright sun, I look out over the lake. Its waters are calm and mirror-like today, dazzling under the sun’s rays and reflecting back the cloudless sky.

  Mum’s house is situated at the very end of the avenue. It sits alone, with the most striking view looking south down the lake. It stands high and proud, with steps leading up to a large wooden porch which wraps around the whole house.

  I open the back door of the car and Josh barges past me rudely, running as fast as he can, making his way up the many steps and onto the boarded wooden floor of the porch. My mum appears at the front door and greets him by rapidly scooping him up in her arms and squeezing him tightly.

  “Hi Grandma!” he shouts in excitement. I wave as she acknowledges me, and I make my way up to join them.

  Alison Lawson has always been a smart looking woman and now, as she approaches the age of sixty-five, that fact has never changed. She has mid-length bobbed hair which she dyes a rich auburn colour, and the same deep hazel eyes as my sister and myself. She is a petite woman with a small frame, and always looks immaculate. I admire her strength. Even after losing both her husband and daughter in such a short space of time, she still always looks like a million dollars, and has a positive outlook towards anything that comes her way. I am proud to say she is my mum and hope that one day I will possess the same levels of strength that she does.

  “Hello, darling,” my mum says, squeezing my shoulders tightly as I join her. She looks fabulous as always, wearing wide legged black trousers and a thick white cowl neck jumper. A red and white checked apron covers her front, hanging loosely to her knees. I hug her back tightly and follow her through into the living room, where she leaves me to head back to the kitchen.

  The living room is large and adjoins a dining room that looks out over the back garden. The front area has a huge bay window looking out over the lake. The walls are dotted with family pictures dating back four decades to when my parents had first been married. There is an open log fire slowly burning. The room is as warm and inviting as it always has been.

  Barny, the dog, lies stretched out on a plush cream rug in front of the fire. He doesn’t stir as I stroke him lightly on the back, before settling down on the large sofa nearest to the window. Josh enters the room behind me and makes his way straight to the dog who, in turn, stands up and starts to wag his tail as Josh pats him affectionately on the head. Barny is a fine-looking Golden Labrador. He has been in the family since he was a small puppy. His face is now white and he is a lot slower than he used to be. He has been a loyal family friend and remains one as he enters old age.

  I look around the room as Mum busies herself in the kitchen. She must have been baking; there is a sweet, vanilla infused smell in the air of homemade cakes. I can hear her clattering around, probably ensuring that she has everything just right. She has always been ridiculously organised, almost to an obsessive level. I wouldn’t dare enter the kitchen and interrupt her methodical routine.

  I have so many good memories of growing up here, being back makes me happy inside. Whenever I return, I am always overcome by an immensely content feeling that I can rarely find elsewhere. I suppose you could say that I had an idyllic childhood, being lucky enough to have been brought up in such a delightful place, with such a loving family. It’s something I appreciate and find I cling onto even more, now that Jess has gone. I firmly believe that nothing in life can be taken for granted, because you really don’t know what is around the corner.

  I cross the room to the open log fire and pick up the framed photograph that rests next to a small gold carriage clock on the mantelpiece. Even though the place is packed full of family photos, this one has always been my favourite; in the photo stands Ryan, Jess and myself. I look about twelve years old, which would have made Jess seven and Ryan five. I pose, with my arms behind my back, dressed in a pretty pink summer dress trimmed with frills. My hair is gripped in place with glittery purple bows. Jess is on the other side, with Ryan in the middle. Ryan is holding onto both our hands, wearing a huge cheesy grin, with chocolate smeared all over his chubby little face. Jess smiles sweetly, her long blonde hair scooped back into plaited pigtails. She is wearing denim dungarees and trainers, with mud on her knees and a white plaster cast on her left wrist.

  Jess had been a bit of a tomboy when she was younger. Although we resembled each other in looks, we were complete opposites in so many other ways. I loved dressing in pretty clothes and playing with my girly toys, whereas she couldn’t stand it. When we were young, Jess would follow me around like a shadow, but as we got a little older and she formed her own personality, she started to spend more and more time with Matt.

  Jess loved nothing more than playing next to the lake with Matt, climbing trees, paddling in the lake or playing sword fights with sticks on its shore. She had numerous cuts, bruises and sprains over the years and had even managed to fall from a tree and fracture her wrist one summer, which explained the plaster cast in the photo. Mum and Dad’s persistent requests not to do anything dangerous had only fuelled her passion for more. I glance down to the bottom of the back garden, where the now old and weathered tree house that she and Matt had helped Dad to build and spent so many hours in as kids, sits alone.

  Jess and our dad had an undeniable bond. Although our father was adamant about the fact that he didn’t have a favourite child, both Ryan and I knew this wasn’t strictly accurate. It didn’t upset me, not in the slightest. Ryan maintains that it never bothered him either, but I know this isn’t true. He was a little jealous of Jess at times whilst growing up, secretly wishing he could have the same bond with our dad. But he never let it show, in fear of ever hurting her.
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  I smile as I remember every Saturday morning, when instead of accompanying me in dance lessons held at our old school, Jess and Dad would drive to the coast. They would spend the full day there, walking along the cliffs at Milton Point and taking in the sights of the bustling shoreline below. They used to sit for ages, watching the ships gather in a line on the horizon as they waited patiently for the tide to rise. I shudder at the image of the place, which is now so bittersweet in my mind.

  My head comes back into the room as my mum returns, carrying enough sandwiches, freshly cooked pastries and cakes to easily feed a family of twelve. I shake my head at her, and she shrugs her shoulders as Josh zooms past us, heading straight for the silver platter of assorted sandwiches. He chooses one for himself and another for Barny, before quickly returning to sit on the other side of the room with his new best friend.

  We finish lunch, and Mum brings me a steaming cup of tea. We sit together, chatting casually. Josh plays happily outside the window on the porch below, with Barny following his every move. I tell Mum all about the interview on Monday and she laughs quietly, knowing that the coffee situation was such a ‘Nat’ type thing to do. I have always been a bit clumsy, mainly because I’m never one hundred percent focused on the task at hand. My mind is always on other things.

  We talk about Ryan and the night ahead, making plans. Mum tells me that she is staying with Ryan and Lola at their apartment tonight rather than travelling all the way back home from the city. I agree that it’s a good idea. I hate thinking of her alone.

  *

  The sun is setting over the lake as I get up to leave. Calling for Josh, we say our goodbyes and head towards the car. There is a chill in the air, so I turn the heat on full as I start the ignition. Summer is now becoming nothing more than a distant memory as autumn sets in fast. I scrunch my nose, thinking of soon having to dig out winter coats and boots from the back of the cupboards at home, as I surrender to its advances.

  We wave goodbye to Mum as she disappears back into the lake house, and I turn the corner back towards the tree-lined avenue. Something catches my eye as we pass. I slow down to pull over as I recognise who the figure is waving to me from the pavement.

  “Hi Matt,” I say, as I open the door and cross around the back of the car towards his open arms.

  “Natalie, hi, how’s things?” he asks, putting an arm around my waist and lightly kissing me on the cheek. Matt is the only person that insists on calling me by my full name; it’s a habit he adopted through copying my father over the years. We hug briefly and he waves at Josh through the window where he sits patiently in the back of the car, before taking a step back and shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans.

  He has put on a little weight since the last time I saw him; something he could easily afford to do and looks healthier for it. His piercing deep grey eyes, which had always been so full of energy and life, now seem empty. The dark circles under them suggest to me that he is still suffering from his wife’s death, and that the restless nights have still not entirely left him, either. His dark hair has been cut shorter, and it looks like he has ditched the glasses that he has worn since he was fourteen, replaced by contacts. The stubble on his face looks coarse and thick. He has completely lost the pretty-boy, clean shaven, slightly geeky look he once had, and now looks more rugged and manlier. Although it’s a hell of a transformation, it suits him.

  Matt is a relatively shy, quiet guy, a characteristic that hasn’t changed, nor will it ever, I presume. Even as a kid, it was always Jess who took the lead while he stood back in the distance, happy for her to take control. He remains reserved to this day. It’s a quality I have always admired in him.

  “How have you been?” I ask brightly, taking a closer look at his appearance. “You look good.”

  “I’m doing great, actually,” he says, nodding down at the ground. “I start a new job in a couple of weeks. It’s the one I wanted,” he adds enthusiastically.

  “Oh, that's great! Well done, Matt!”

  I’m proud of him for trying to move on with his life. It would be so easy just to give up and say ‘sod it’ to the world. He loved Jess with all of his heart, so her death had hit him hard. He had even left his old job at the local high school due to suffering from depression.

  It’s good to see him getting on with his life, picking himself up and pursuing the career in teaching that he had put so much work into back at university. I know it’s what Jess would have wanted.

  We stand on the pavement under the trees outside of his parent’s house, talking for a while. I’m not surprised to see him today as I know that he visits his parents every Saturday, now that he is on his own. I feel a stab of guilt at the fact I haven’t really had a lot of contact with him since the funeral. The few times that I have seen him, it’s been when I was visiting Mum and accidently bumped into him, like I have today.

  Our brief conversation ends and I say goodbye to Matt, telling him to look after himself, and wish him luck in his new job. As I climb back into the car and start our journey home, my phone rings. I answer it quickly, not recognising the number showing on the screen in front of me. God, I’m very popular today.

  A loud and forceful voice booms through the car speakers. The sound is so powerful that I rush to turn the volume down. I know instantly who it is.

  “Sorry to call you at this time on a Saturday,” says Richard Wallis. “But I wanted to call you personally with the news.”

  “Richard... hi,” I stammer, not able to hide the surprised tone now etched in my voice. I can't help it as a smile starts to curl at the corners of my lips. I settle back into my seat and begin to listen to what he has to say, still a little taken aback.

  Apparently, even though I had spilt hot coffee all over him and was clearly nervous, Richard had liked the way that I managed to compose myself at the interview. He thinks that my experience and skills match what he is looking for to perfection. His secretary called my last workplace, where my old boss Stephanie gave me a glowing reference, leading to his decision to offer me the position. My contract will only be temporary, on a part-time basis, and I will work alongside his other PA (I assume this is the beautiful Barbie doll I met on the day of the interview.) The hours are ideal. On the days I work, I will be home in time to pick up Josh from school. I will be doing some training over the next few weeks, then the role will officially start in January.

  We finish talking, and I thank Richard for taking a chance on me. He tells me there was no chance to be taken, and he is looking forward to me being on board. We say goodbye and Josh can’t stand being left out, shouting “Bye, Bye Richard!” at the top of his voice from behind me.

  Richards laughs, a profound and hearty laugh, before the line goes silent. I look out the windscreen towards the image of the countryside, now creeping into view. Home isn’t far away. For the first time in a very long time I actually feel that my life is taking a turn for the better.

  Chapter 6

  Jess

  Seven years ago...

  I pace back and forth outside the airport entrance and glance at my watch for what must be the hundredth time in the past half hour. As usual, she’s late, and now we’re going to be cutting it fine to make this flight to London. I tap my foot against the pavement, feeling my anxiety levels rise considerably. I knew we should have travelled to the airport together, but Lola had insisted on meeting me here because she wanted to go to say goodbye to her family first, who live out of town. If we miss this flight, then we are going to automatically miss our connecting flight in Hong Kong, and then we’re screwed.

  I’m now officially in full panic mode. Matt is standing only a couple of feet away from me and can easily see my flustered state. He looks slightly amused by it, which makes me mad and only adds to my frustration. We have always been like chalk and cheese in this respect. He is so laid back he is practically horizontal, to the point that it infuriates me, especially at times like these.

  Matt moves next to m
e and hits me playfully on the shoulder, sending me a little off-balance and causing me to grin. I’m glad he’s here to see me off; he’s helping to keep me calm, even if it’s in an annoying way. I know fine well that if Matt wasn’t here, I may have had a nervous breakdown by now. I’d said goodbye to my family back at home. I knew if they had come to the airport to see me off I would have been reduced to a babbling mess, and so would they.

  “Don’t worry Jess, what's the worst that can happen if she doesn’t show up?” Matt asks, in a serious tone, his face straight. “I’ll just have to come travelling with you instead of Lola.” He smiles at me with his dark eyes twinkling, as if he’s thinking something he doesn’t want me to know. I look up at him, his tall frame overpowering my own.

  “Yeah, I bet you’d love that! The chance to ogle over me in a bikini every day,” I say, hitting him back and laughing. He closes his eyes and wolf whistles.

  I’m going to miss Matt so much. He’s my best friend. Although Lola and I are really close, it’s Matt I always go to with my worries, and for a shoulder to cry on. He’s always been there for me for as long as I can remember, ever since we were little kids. He’s such a huge part of my life. Two years away from him seems like such a long time, but he couldn’t have come with us. I’d graduated a couple of months ago, but he’s studying to become a secondary school teacher so needs to stay on an extra year at university before he is fully qualified.

  “Here she comes,” says Matt, breaking my train of thought, as he points to the taxi drop off station situated at the opposite end of the airport car park. I look up to see Lola making her way towards us from a parked taxi. She looks like a mad woman; running at full speed, arms flying all over the place while trying to juggle a huge rucksack which is almost as big as she is. She drops it on the ground three times before she eventually reaches us.