If Ever I Fall

by S. D. Robertson

  Part of me was relieved by his note. Before opening it, I’d imagined all sorts. I’d even prepared myself for a formal start to divorce proceedings, although on reflection I’m sure he’d never hand me such a document via Ruby.

  And yet, the more I thought about it, the cold functionality of what he had written bothered me. A heartfelt outpouring about his hurt feelings or even a furious rant about how much he hated me would at least have given me something to work with. I had no idea how to respond to this, so I left it a while. But once Ruby was in bed, I decided to phone him. I had a feeling he wouldn’t take the call if he knew it was me, so I blocked my number.

  ‘Hello?’ he answered after three or four rings.

  ‘Dan. It’s Maria. Please don’t hang up. It’s important.’

  ‘What? Is Ruby all right?’

  ‘She’s fine. It’s—’

  ‘Listen, Maria, unless this is about Ruby, I’ve nothing to say to you. I thought that would be clear from my note.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you, Dan. I really—’

  He hung up before I had a chance to finish. And every time I tried calling back after that, I got voicemail.

  ‘Come on, Dan,’ I said, leaving a message on the fourth attempt. ‘Please talk to me. I have things I need to say to you. I can’t bear this.’

  It’s ironic, isn’t it? Dan’s stuck with me through all my troubles, putting up with my bizarre behaviour; my rants and rages. He’s always been the one determined to repair our relationship, even after I threw him out of his own house. He’s been desperate to talk about ‘us’ for ages. Now that I’m finally on board and beating my OCD, he won’t speak to me.

  I knew he’d need time and space – anyone would – but I didn’t expect him to shut me off like he has. I never saw this coming.

  I’ve no one to blame but myself and I don’t expect you to feel sorry for me, Sam. But I am in a bit of a fix here and I’ve no idea how to get out of it. I genuinely want to sit down with Dan and try to work things out. It must all look very fickle. Like I’m a person who only wants what she can’t have. But honestly, Sam, it’s more than that. I feel like I’ve had an epiphany and finally seen what’s been staring me in the face all along.

  I pray it’s not too late.

  Rosie went through some relaxation techniques with me in our last session, as promised. I think now would be a good time to try out the mindfulness CD she gave me. It should help me unwind and take a step back from my problems, rather than slipping into OCD. If I’m lucky, it might even guide me towards some solutions.

  Love as always,

  M

  Xx

  CHAPTER 31

  BEFORE

  Tuesday, 8 September 2015

  ‘I’m heading home.’

  Maurice’s words and the hand he placed on Dan’s shoulder snapped his mind into focus. Sitting on the bottom stair, he’d zoned out, glad to escape the reality of what was going on around him.

  ‘Sorry, I was miles away. Thanks so much for coming. It’s appreciated.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Maurice was one of a small group from the office who’d attended the funeral, including Jane and other members of Dan’s direct team. Talking to his fellow editor reminded Dan of the ill-advised decision he’d made to return to work a few days after Sam’s death. He’d hoped it might give him some focus – take his mind off the gaping wound that was everywhere he looked at home – but he’d not even lasted two hours.

  He remembered Maurice more or less picking him off the floor last week, when he’d broken down after going outside for a cigarette.

  ‘You shouldn’t be back at work. It’s too soon. You’re not ready.’

  ‘I’ll be all right in a minute,’ Dan replied, embarrassed; fighting back the tears. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’

  ‘Come back inside the office. Let me get you a coffee or something.’

  Dan shook his head. ‘No. I can’t go back in there. Not like this.’ He looked at the main entrance and saw someone else coming outside – a woman he didn’t recognise. She had a pack of cigarettes in her hand and was heading their way. ‘Shit,’ he said, turning and heading for the car park.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Maurice asked, following him.

  ‘To my car.’

  ‘I’m coming with you, then.’

  They stayed in there, smoking and talking, for nearly an hour. It was the first time Dan had really spoken to anyone about how he was coping. It really helped. Maurice was a great listener. Eventually, he reiterated that it was too soon for Dan to be back at work.

  ‘Go home,’ he said. ‘Be with your family.’

  ‘I can’t. I’ll have to tell someone.’

  ‘I’ll square it away for you. No one expected you back this quickly. Are you all right to drive yourself home?’

  Dan nodded, taking a deep breath and looking away from Maurice as he felt himself welling up again. Maybe his colleague was right. If the mere thought of someone being nice to him was enough to set him off, editing a newspaper probably wasn’t a good idea.

  Back in the present, Dan reflected that today was the first time he’d seen Maurice since then. Although only a matter of days ago, it felt like ages. By the same token, it seemed almost inconceivable that only eleven days had passed since Sam’s death. Had he really spoken to her less than two weeks ago?

  ‘Have the others from work already gone?’ Dan asked.

  Maurice nodded. ‘I was just talking to your mother-in-law.’

  ‘Lucky you.’

  He smiled. ‘She and your father-in-law are staying here, I believe.’

  ‘Only for a few days.’

  ‘And your mother?’

  Dan had explained to Maurice about the Alzheimer’s when they’d spoken in the car. He’d been unsure at that point whether or not to have her at the funeral.

  Shaking his head, he explained: ‘I had a long chat with them at the care home and we decided it was better she didn’t come. It feels wrong, but she wouldn’t have known what was going on. They said it was likely she’d have got confused by the change of surroundings and could have ended up causing a scene. I’ve already told her twice about Sam’s death now, but it’s not sinking in.’

  ‘How are you holding up?’

  Dan shrugged. ‘I’ve been dreading today. Now I’m ready for it to be over.’

  ‘What a lovely service. I know that’s what everyone says after funerals, but I mean it. When the choir from her school performed, it was beautiful. And the eulogy you and Maria gave was so touching. How brave of you both to stand up there like that.’

  A numb weariness had set in after the raw emotion of the service and the short family-only cremation that followed. Dan had glided through the wake as if in a dream and now, as it was finally drawing to a close and the numbers in his home were thinning out, he wanted to sleep. To disappear from reality for as long as possible.

  ‘I’ve never properly thanked you for how you helped me at the office the other day,’ he said. ‘I was a mess and you were fantastic.’

  ‘It was nothing. I’m a father too. I can only imagine the hell you’re going through.’

  ‘I meant to speak to you earlier; it’s been crazy. Will you thank all the others from work for coming too? I’ll do it myself when I get back, but I want them to know that it means a lot. So many sent cards as well. It’s overwhelming.’

  Maurice nodded. ‘Of course. All the best. I’ll see you when you get back.’

  ‘You don’t have a spare cigarette, do you? I’ve smoked all mine.’

  ‘I have some baccy. I can roll you one.’

  ‘I don’t want to put you out.’

  ‘It’ll only take a minute.’

  He whipped out a pack of papers and got to work before Dan could argue otherwise.

  ‘Here you go,’ he said, handing over the roll-up in no time. ‘Enjoy.’

  ‘Cheers. Do you mind if I keep it until later? I ought to say a few more good
byes.’

  ‘Of course.’

  After seeing Maurice to the door, Dan stashed the roll-up in the front pocket of his shirt. He circulated among the remaining guests, thanking them for coming; hoping they would leave soon.

  Maria, he noticed, was deep in conversation with Mrs Forester, the head teacher of Sam’s high school. Thankfully things looked a lot calmer than last time. He was considering joining in until Helen, his mother-in-law, beat him to it. Instead he headed upstairs to check on Ruby.

  Her bedroom door was shut to keep the noise out, but when he opened it – taking care to be as quiet as possible – he saw the light was still on and she was sitting up in bed reading.

  ‘Hi, love,’ he said. ‘Can’t sleep?’

  She shook her head, her eyes red and puffy.

  ‘How are you doing?’

  Ruby shrugged, not meeting his gaze.

  ‘Fancy a hug?’ he asked, sitting down next to her on the bed.

  She nodded, throwing both arms around his middle and pressing her head sideways into his chest. Dan returned the embrace and, without further words, they stayed like that, comforting each other, for some time. He felt like he ought to say something wise to help her make sense of what had happened, but he had nothing. There was no making sense of it. Sam’s death was a horrendous waste of a young life. A life he should have been there to save. How the hell had he not seen warning signs?

  ‘Daddy?’ Ruby whispered. ‘Do you believe in Heaven?’

  ‘Um,’ Dan grunted, clearing his throat and feigning a coughing fit in order to buy himself some time. What to say now? He wasn’t religious at all. He was a card-carrying atheist. But he and Maria, a lapsed Anglican, had agreed to let Sam and Ruby make their own minds up. It wasn’t something they talked about much at home. And the last thing he wanted at that moment was to deprive his daughter of any comfort she might find in the prospect of her sister being in a better place.

  The best he could come up with was to turn the question back on Ruby, asking her what she believed.

  ‘Well, Grandma says there is. But she and Grandpa go to church and we don’t. Does that mean Sam won’t be allowed in?’

  ‘No, I don’t think that matters. If there is a better place after this, then I’m sure your sister will be there.’

  ‘Does that mean we’ll see her again one day?’

  ‘That would be nice, wouldn’t it?’ Dan replied, part of him wishing that he did believe in an afterlife, so that he could take comfort in the prospect of an eventual reunion.

  ‘She was in my dream last night.’

  ‘Really? That’s nice. What was she doing?’

  ‘I don’t remember much. Just normal stuff, I think. But it was like she hadn’t died. Then I woke up and realised it wasn’t true, which made me cry.’

  It broke Dan’s heart to hear these words leave his daughter’s mouth. He could feel himself starting to cry, but he refused to give in to the tears, determined to stay strong for her. He didn’t feel strong. He felt weak and helpless, like his very essence had been shattered into a million little pieces. But he was still a father – and that meant being a rock for Ruby whenever she needed him. That meant holding things together no matter what.

  ‘You should have said something, darling. Did you tell Mummy?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Please do tell one of us next time, Ruby. You don’t need to go through these things alone. We’re both here for you any time you need us, day or night. Okay?’

  ‘Okay, Daddy.’

  ‘It’s good to think about Sam, though. She’ll always be in our memories and there are lots of happy ones to help us get through the sad times. Do you know what I was thinking about earlier?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Out of nowhere it came to me that when Sam was little, before you were born, she used to call handbags ham bags.’

  Ruby gave Dan a blank look.

  ‘Like they were made out of ham,’ he explained.

  ‘Oh, right. I get it now. It sounded the same when you said it.’

  ‘Exactly. They do sound very similar, which is why we didn’t notice she was saying it. Then one day she and I were doing some Christmas shopping and I bought a new leather handbag for Mummy. Sam looked at me, dead serious, and asked why it was still called a ham bag if it was made out of leather and not ham. I didn’t laugh in front of her, because I knew she’d be embarrassed, but it made your mother and I giggle for a long time afterwards.’

  Ruby smiled. ‘When did you think about that?’

  ‘As we arrived at the funeral. I’m not sure what reminded me of it, but it helped with the sadness for a few minutes.’

  ‘You cried a lot at the funeral, Daddy. I’ve never seen you do that before.’

  Dan hadn’t seen Ruby’s comment coming and struggled to gulp down the huge lump in his throat. He took a long, deep breath and replied in as calm a voice as he could manage: ‘I miss her terribly, Ruby. I wish she was still here with us.’

  ‘Me too.’

  Later, after everyone had left and they’d broken the back of the cleaning up, Dan, Maria, Helen and Geoff all turned in for the night.

  After an hour of tossing and turning in the dark, Dan peered over towards the shape of his wife on the other side of the bed.

  ‘Are you still awake, love?’ he whispered.

  She sighed. ‘Yes. All your wriggling about and fidgeting isn’t helping.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  She turned to the middle of the bed, groaning as if it required great physical effort, and the whites of her eyes shone at him. ‘I feel so empty. Like I’ve cried out everything that matters and nothing’s left.’

  Dan reached his hand out to hers, so their palms were touching and the tips of their fingers intertwined. He exhaled deeply. ‘I know.’

  The two of them had hardly spoken all day. Of course they’d been at each other’s side, at least until the wake, but few words had passed between them. What was there to say? Nothing that would make any difference. Nothing that would change what had happened and bring their daughter back.

  ‘What now?’ Maria asked.

  ‘We carry on. We have to for Ruby’s sake.’

  ‘What if I don’t feel like carrying on?’

  ‘Do it anyway.’

  ‘I kept looking for them at the funeral, you know.’

  ‘Looking for who?’

  ‘The ones who did this to her. I was scanning all the faces in the congregation, wondering if any of them had the gall to turn up.’

  ‘You shouldn’t do that to yourself, Maria.’

  ‘Why not? They killed her.’

  ‘You can’t say that.’

  ‘You’re defending them?’ Maria asked, pulling away and raising her voice.

  ‘Shh. Keep it down or you’ll wake everyone up. No, of course I’m not defending them. I’m sorry if that’s how it sounded. It’s been a long, hard day. Let’s not turn on each other. That’s the last thing we need.’ He leaned over and planted a kiss on his wife’s forehead. It hurt to feel her recoil at his touch, but he let it pass. ‘I saw you and your mum talking to Mrs Forester earlier.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What did she have to say?’

  Maria ran a hand through her hair. ‘Nothing she hasn’t told us already.’

  ‘The investigation?’

  ‘Still ongoing, apparently. She’ll let us know as soon as it’s done.’

  Dan thought back to the last time the three of them had met, in Mrs Forester’s office at the school, a few days ago. Maria had lost it, veering from crying fits to shouting and screaming, although ultimately things had calmed down. The head teacher had seemed genuinely devastated. She’d said she was determined to get to the bottom of whether there was anything the school could have done differently to stop it; whether there were any warning signs they should have spotted. And yet Sam hadn’t even been at school when it had happened. It had still been the summer holidays then, although they were back now
, one pupil short.

  It appeared that Sam had given no indication to her friends or teachers of there being a problem. While frustrating, Dan found this tough to dispute, since neither he nor Maria had spotted any warning signs either.

  He resisted congratulating Maria on keeping her cool with Mrs Forester this time, knowing she’d take it the wrong way. ‘It was nice of her to come,’ he said instead.

  ‘Nothing’s going to happen to them, is it?’ Maria added after a lengthy pause.

  ‘You don’t know that.’

  ‘Even you don’t think they’re responsible.’

  Dan picked his words carefully. ‘I think they’re just kids, like Sam was. Kids are impulsive. They do things without thinking about the consequences and sometimes they go terribly wrong. But that’s not the same as—’

  ‘How can you be so bloody rational? Our daughter’s dead. Don’t you care?’

  ‘Are you seriously asking me that, Maria?’ Dan hissed, unable to stop the fireworks exploding in his head. ‘I found her. I had her lifeless body in my arms. I can’t unsee what I saw that day. It’s there every time I close my eyes. And I don’t know why she did it. I just can’t understand how things got to that point without us realising. How did we not know that our daughter was suicidal? How the hell could we not see it?’

  Only when he stopped his rant did Dan notice the speed and heaviness of his breathing. It sounded deafening as he stared through the dark at the outline of his wife, willing her to reply – to give him an answer. But there was nothing apart from a quiet sob.

  ‘It makes no sense,’ he offered after a long moment, calmer now. ‘I know you want someone to blame. I understand that, believe me, but I honestly don’t think the answer lies with these kids. It’s not enough. It doesn’t add up. There must have been something more. Come on, Maria, you have to know what I’m saying. Do you truly believe she took her own life because of a few nasty comments?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Maria whispered eventually. ‘I just don’t know why she did it.’