Sleep Peacefully

by NC Marshall

  An overly confident, jolly voice interrupts my thoughts, cutting effortlessly through the pumping dance music. “Well hello, gorgeous,” says Marcus as he comes running down the spiral staircase near where I stand. He air kisses me on both cheeks. I can’t help but chuckle at him. “It’s been far too long, Nat,” he announces loudly, blatantly looking me up and down, then giving me a warm smile followed by a nod of approval. “Are you here to see Kate?”

  “Yeah, is she nearly done?” I ask, smiling back at him.

  Marcus is Kate’s senior stylist and the salon’s deputy manager. He has been by her side since day one. They are close friends, and he has always been there for her, watching her back through good and bad. He is a likable character and his camp and theatrical actions only add to his fabulous and flamboyant personality. He’s a stunningly handsome man. Kate and I often joke that the female population has missed out on a treat. He has recently been married in Canada to his long term partner, Drew. He wastes no time in taking a seat next to me in the salon waiting area, and proceeds to tell me all about their big day.

  I glance around the busy salon. Eventually I spot Kate in a corner, finishing off a young girl’s hair. Kate always looks so trendy for her years. Today she is dressed all in black, her tight vest top showing off her curvaceous figure and flawless pale skin. Her eye makeup is dark and smokey. Her long hair is tousled and messy. She pulls off the sexy, just got out of bed look faultlessly. She holds a mirror to the back of the young girl’s perfectly curled locks and the girl nods approvingly. Kate pats the girl on both shoulders before pointing in the direction of Charlotte at the front desk, to take care of her from here. Her eyes soon catch mine, and she signals with her fingers that she will be two minutes, then heads upstairs to get her belongings. I settle in next to Marcus as he produces his phone and starts to flick through his many wedding photos.

  *

  An hour later and we are sitting in a local pub that I know well, based near Wallis and Spoors. This morning seems so long ago. I briefly wonder how Richard’s meetings went, and what time Sophie will manage to finish work; she had told me she had quite a bit to do when I left.

  The pub has been refurbished since I was last here. Its once traditional English country theme has now been replaced by a more modern minimalistic finish. I used to meet regularly here with Kate and Jess, when we had all worked in the city. We liked coming here after work to vent off about our crappy days, making each other feel better if one of us had suffered a worse day than the others.

  I sit down at an empty table near the window while Kate goes to get the drinks. I can remember us all in the same spot laughing and joking together. I can still hear Jess’s loud, unmistakable and infectious laugh so clearly in my mind.

  A short while later, we sit with food in front of us as I try my best to make small talk. Kate tucks into an enormous burger with fries while I pick mindlessly at a tuna topped baked potato.

  “So are you going to tell me what’s up?” Kate asks, finally finishing her enormous meal and wiping her hands on a napkin. She raises it to her lips, dabbing away a small spot of ketchup on the corner of her mouth. I smile at her ability to read me like an open book, even when I’m trying to remain closed. I push my half eaten food to the side and take a sip of my orange juice as I start to tell Kate the story. She already knows about the dream that I've had since Jess’s funeral, but is naturally shocked by the new addition to the series. Once finished, I lean back and wait for her reaction.

  “Oh my God,” says Kate. Her eyes are wide as she takes a large sip from her coke then puts her glass back down on the cardboard coaster, not taking her eyes off my own. “Do you think Jess was really there? Do you believe that these dreams are connected to her in some way?”

  “I really don’t know,” I answer. “All I know is this one felt so much stronger than the others have. I just don’t know what to make of it. I mean we all have dreams... right?”

  Kate nods. “Yeah, but they aren’t normally accompanied by our dead sister’s image taking over our own body, then manifesting itself in our hallway mirror,” she says quickly, her tone serious, not mincing her words, as frank as ever. “You hear about things like this all the time,” she adds, a little too excited for my liking.

  “Like what?”

  “You know, sisters still being linked when one of them dies, especially when they were close. You and Jess were close, weren’t you?”

  “Yeah, very close.”

  Kate nods, picking up the straw in her glass and sucking on the end of it thoughtfully.

  “I watched this thing on TV the other night, about spirits not being able to cross over until they have sent a message to a loved one.”

  I laugh aloud, almost choking on my drink in the process. “This is real Kate, not some made up TV show,” I reply, “Don't be so daft.”

  Kate has been into all things supernatural for all the years that I have known her. She regularly visits numerous fortune tellers and spiritualists, believing that these people with so-called ‘special powers’ will tell her which way her life will lead, and communicate messages from the other side of the grave. I, on the other hand, have always been sceptical regarding anyone like that, firmly believing that they are preying on vulnerable and naive people to make a quick fortune.

  Kate truly believes that Jess is trying to send me a message in some way, she’s been telling me this for a while. I find this very hard to believe, and laugh off her suggestion every time she mentions it. Although, now a small part of me can see the point she has been trying to make. She agrees that I did the right thing by going to see Matt. Even though it was uncomfortable and may have caused a rift between us, it needed to be done. I wouldn’t have settled until I asked him if he had gone to meet Jess that night.

  I feel a lot better after speaking to Kate. I hug her goodbye as we leave the pub. We arrange to meet up at hers next week. She tells me to call her if I have any more dreams or even if I just need someone to talk to. I thank her for her kindness and thank God that I have a friend like her at times like these. It’s starting to get dark outside as I get back in the car and leave the city, heading towards Josh’s friend’s house to pick him up.

  *

  It’s raining lightly as I turn up the deserted country road that leads to our house. Although I love living here, I often wish that there was more street lighting. The winter nights are so gloomy. It always feels a bit creepy in the darkness, especially on a miserable night like this one.

  I reach the end of the long road. As I turn onto our drive, I notice the motorcycle parked outside the garage door. My brother stands in the shadows, leaning against the bike. I can see the smoke from his cigarette as he puts out the leftover stub under his booted foot.

  I get out of the car and open the back door for Josh. As I near the front door, our security light clicks on and brightly illuminates the whole driveway. Ryan pushes his weight off the bike, puts his helmet on the seat, and slowly heads over towards me.

  My brother has always been a keen biker. It’s a passion he has held since he was seventeen and passed his test, much to the disapproval of our mum and dad. He possesses a streak in his personality which attracts him toward anything with a thrill attached, rendering him entirely immune to the dangers likely to be linked. Much like Jess had. Give Ryan a high bridge and a bungee cord he would be at the front of the queue. Jess was just as bad. She had loved adventure and the excitement of something new, driven by impulse and spontaneity. I’m known as the safe and sensible one out of the three of us, quite happy to stay cautious and danger free. Boring, I suppose.

  At one point in time, not so long ago, Ryan spent more time going out biking than anything else. Now he doesn’t use the motorbike as much as he would like due to his job, but makes sure he does at any chance he gets. It’s become a regular pastime for him to jump on it at a weekend and head off. Usually, he ends up at our mum’s on a Sunday afternoon. Secretly, I think he worries about her being alone, and he
does try to see her as much as he can, as do I.

  Josh soon notices who our surprise visitor is and runs over to greet him.

  “Uncle Ryan!” he shouts, throwing his school backpack to the ground. He runs towards him, raising his arms as he reaches my brother.

  “Is Liam with you?” Josh asks, looking around as if Ryan has hidden his cousin somewhere.

  “Hey Josh,” Ryan says, smiling. He picks Josh up and pops him straight onto his leather clad shoulders as if he weighs no more than a feather. “No, sorry Liam’s at home, but you’ll see him soon, I promise.”

  “Aww. Can I have a ride on your motorbike?” Josh asks, looking behind Ryan at the bike expectantly, clinging tightly around Ryan’s neck.

  “Maybe when you’re eighteen,” Ryan replies. He pops Josh down next to me on the doorstep, as I frantically search my handbag for my door keys. I can’t bring myself to look up at Ryan; I can already tell by a brief look at his face that he isn’t happy with me. His intense stare doesn’t leave my face. I can feel an embarrassed flush creeping up my cheeks as I eventually fish out my keys from my bag and unlock the door.

  I rush to turn off the burglar alarm. Ryan follows me in, still not saying anything, and closes the door behind him as I punch in the four-digit code to silence the noise. I go into the lounge and take off my coat, throwing it on the sofa, then swiftly turn to face him. He glares at me hard and sighs loudly as Josh runs in behind him, grabbing hold of his leg playfully. Ryan looks down at his nephew and rubs his head affectionately.

  “Josh darling, why don’t you go and play in your room for a little bit, while Mum and Uncle Ryan talk, okay?” I ask, quietly.

  Josh promptly lets go of Ryan’s leg and heads upstairs, without any protest against my request. Even at his young age, I think he can sense the atmosphere developing in the room. I know fine well that Matt has been in touch with Ryan, and that’s his reason for being here now.

  Ryan passes where I stand and sits down on the chair opposite me.

  “What were you thinking Nat?” He sounds slightly disgusted. I feel like a little girl who has done something naughty, waiting for punishment. I stand still in front of him, unable to meet his stare as he continues.

  “Don’t you think Matt has already been through enough lately? Without you bringing even more shit to his door?” he asks, raising his eyebrows and folding his arms, waiting for an answer. I eventually pluck up the courage to look at him. “He called me when I was on my way home from work, asking me to meet him because he wanted to talk. He was really upset, so I went straight along to his apartment. Little did I know that it was you who had him in such a state, and for what, Nat? A stupid fucking dream?” His voice is still quiet, but he’s clearly outraged. I can’t remember the last time my brother swore at me. It’s not a pleasant feeling at all.

  “It’s not stupid, Ryan,” I snap back at him, unable to hide the emotion from my voice.“You know I’ve been having these dreams for a while, but this one was different, then... I saw her.”

  Ryan’s head snaps up. “You didn’t mention that part to Matt,” he says, looking at me like I’m crazy, and suddenly I feel crazy too.

  I shake my head. “I didn’t think he’d believe me. I saw her face, she was in the mirror, in the hallway. It was dark and... it was her Ryan, I swear it was her.”

  Ryan looks bewildered, “Okay, let me get this straight. So you’re telling me you believe in ghosts now, and that our dead sister is trying to tell you that her husband was up at Milton Point with her the night she died?” He sighs, tilting his head towards the ceiling, then looks back at me, holding my eyes with his. “That’s total Shit Nat, and you know it.”

  I try to say something, to defend myself in some way, but Ryan puts a hand up to my face to silence me and continues talking.

  “You know he was wasted that night Nat, he was totally out of it. I was with him, he could barely stand. He and Jess had argued. He’d been drinking all afternoon,” says Ryan bluntly. “You really think he could have gotten himself all the way to Milton Point to meet Jess?” He laughs sarcastically. “Ha, I doubt he even knew his own name.”

  “But you weren’t with him all night, were you? You told the police you had been, but you told me that you waited till he had gone to sleep, then left and went back to your own apartment,” I yell back, my voice growing louder. I walk to the other side of the room and shut the living room door in fear of Josh overhearing our argument.

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” His voice is raised now. I sit back down and back myself further into my seat, now feeling intimidated just by his presence.

  “The police questioned him and they found nothing. She killed herself, Nat. Matt wasn’t there, no one provoked her. The sooner we all come to terms with that fact the sooner we can all move on with our lives.”

  The words come out of his mouth hastily. I see the look of horror hit his face, as he realises what he has just said to me.

  “What do you mean she killed herself?” I ask. I’ve surely misunderstood what he said.

  Ryan crosses the room and crouches down in front of me so that his face is level with mine. He takes my hand and holds it lightly in his.

  “There was a witness. A local woman. She was walking her dog along the cliff tops at Milton Point that night. She saw Jess up there standing near the edge of the cliff, looking extremely upset. The woman said she seemed distraught. She called the police and told them her concern, but by the time the police got there it was too late.” He pauses and takes a deep, shaky breath. “Jess was alone that night, no one was there with her. I don’t think she slipped at all Nat, the police think she jumped, and so do I. She purposely jumped.”

  I stand and circle the living room as if I’m trying to find an exit, an escape route of some sort, to flee from what my brother has just told me. Eventually, I give up and sink back down into the sofa, in the exact same spot that I had left only seconds ago.

  “But the police said... it, it was an accident,” I stammer.

  Ryan nods, and rubs his thumb across the top of my knuckles; his touch is warm, his skin rough. I can smell the strong scent of leather coming from his jacket, accompanied by the fainter smell of petrol fumes.

  “I was at Mum’s house when they came with the post-mortem results. They said that there was no alcohol in her system, the toxicology report had come back negative, no booze, no drugs. She was stone cold sober the night she died. Mum didn’t tell you because it was easier just to let you believe it was an accident. She asked me not to say anything to anyone and I haven’t... well, not till now. It was easier to let everyone believe it was an accident.”

  “But the police said that she fell... that she was drunk.”

  “No, the police told Mum they thought she could have been drunk. They hadn’t completed any tests at that point, it was purely speculation.”

  I stay silent with disbelief for a few moments, before I continue.

  “But there was no note. If she was going to commit suicide wouldn’t she leave a note?”

  “Not necessarily, not if she hadn’t planned it before she got up there.”

  I shake my head at him, in denial.

  “Come on Nat, think about it. Jess knew those cliffs better than anyone we know. She wasn’t stupid. She wouldn’t have allowed herself to get that close to the edge.” He hesitates a few seconds. “Not unless she wanted to.”

  The room is spinning, and my hands are shaking like mad. I’m trying hard to regulate my breathing, but my heart is hammering against my rib cage so hard that it’s virtually impossible.

  “Please, don’t hate me for telling you this Nat, but Matt is innocent in all this. He’s as hurt and upset as the rest of us.”

  I wipe at my eyes, which are now streaming with tears that I can’t control. Ryan leaves me and returns with a box of tissues, handing me one. I don’t take it. I can't move.

  For nine months now, Mum and Ryan have kept this from me, from everyone. I don’t want to believe
that it’s true. But why had she done it? I know that she and Matt were having problems, but I thought that it was just a blip, that they’d be back on track in no time. I know that she still missed Dad, but assumed she was starting to come to terms with his death. Had Jess’s last thoughts been filled with loneliness and anger? Why didn’t she talk to anyone, why didn’t she tell me how she was feeling? Were things really so bad that she had to take her own life? I don’t understand.

  I suddenly feel claustrophobic, and lurch forward towards where Ryan is still crouched in front of me. I use his left shoulder to steady myself, rising entirely to my feet, not knowing where I am heading and begin to stagger around the room in a daze. Eventually, I fix my gaze on Dan’s liquor cabinet in the corner of the room, where he stores his extensive whiskey collection. I quickly move over to it and rip open the door, pulling out the first bottle that my hand makes contact with. I glance at the label, identifying it as his most expensive bottle of double malt, the one he keeps only for special occasions. I pour a more than generous sized measure into a crystal tumbler and throw it down my neck. It tastes revolting. When the instant gratification doesn’t hit as I had intended, I presume the whole bottle is a better option and pick up the glass, preparing to fill it up again.

  “I’m so sorry, Nat.” Ryan quickly moves over to where I stand and takes the empty glass from my hand. He sets it on the cabinet top and leads me away. His voice seems distant as I furiously try to return my wandering mind back into the room.

  “I kept it from everyone because I know that we all felt so guilty already over losing her, and this might make it worse. Especially with you and Matt. I haven’t even told Lola.” His voice is full of sadness.