by Michael Wood
‘I don’t feel very strong.’
‘You won’t. You’ll feel like the entire world is against you. I’m here to show you that it isn’t.’
‘If I’m such a strong person, why do I feel like a complete mess?’
‘Because you haven’t come to terms with everything that has happened. James died and Carl Meagan disappeared at the same time. Both events were huge blows to you and your brain didn’t know which one to cope with first so it just shut down. You need to make sense of them, question why they happened, but you can’t as every time you think of James, Carl jumps up and vice versa.
‘It was Adele’s idea for me to arrange a time to sit down with my wedding album and grieve. For example, say at six o’clock every evening, sit down and have a good cry for an hour or so then go back to being me in the present.’
‘That’s a very good idea. You should be paying Adele,’ Sheila said with a smile.
That was the first time Matilda had ever known Sheila to make a light-hearted comment. She found herself relaxing and smiling in return.
‘I can’t keep relying on Adele though, can I?’
‘No you can’t. Adele sounds like a wonderful woman and she’s perfect for you to have as an ally, but not as someone to cling to when you go through a bad patch. By all means, ring her up and moan about having a bad day, etcetera, but don’t use her as a crutch. She’s a friend, not a counsellor.’
‘Well she is a doctor,’ Matilda quipped.
‘A pathologist. If you want her to cut you open, then let her, but I doubt it will help.’
Another light-hearted comment. She was a long way off being called funny, but it was an improvement. Like she said, the first step to recovery is actually wanting to get better in the first place. Maybe Sheila was lighter because she knew her advice would be heeded now.
‘If I’d been more receptive to therapy from day one, would I have been better than I am now?’
‘Definitely,’ Sheila said without hesitation. ‘But I can understand why you weren’t receptive. Like I said, you’re a strong woman; to be told to seek help is not what you wanted to hear from your boss. You thought you were coping with it in your own way but you weren’t and you couldn’t see it. Now you can.’
‘So where do we go from here?’
‘You tell me what’s wrong?’
Matilda let out a heavy sigh. ‘If I said everything was wrong what would you say?’
‘I wouldn’t believe you. Can you go to the shop to buy a newspaper?’
‘Yes,’ Matilda shrugged.
‘Can you drive to work in the morning?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can you cook a meal?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can you make a cup of coffee?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. White, no sugar, thanks.’
OK, now that was funny.
‘Seriously,’ Sheila continued. ‘You can do all of those things and so many others. You are stronger than you think. We need to reprogramme your mind so that you believe you’re more worthwhile than you currently think you are. You can get out of bed in a morning, get dressed, put in a full day at work, come home, have a meal and go to bed, and do it all again the following day. On that level, there is absolutely nothing wrong with you.’
‘So what is wrong with me?’
‘Your thought process. You’re going through a period of mourning and you’ve become stuck. We need to get you out of that funk.’
‘And how do we alter that?’
‘One step at a time.’
‘One step at a time,’ Matilda repeated. ‘Thank you,’ she nodded.
NINETEEN
‘Dad, what does rape mean?’
The question was powerful enough to stop time itself. The entire room descended into silence as all heads turned to look at Thomas Craven. He hadn’t used sign language. His muffled voice resounded around the silent room.
The whole Craven family, minus Lois but including her mother, Margaret, were sitting around the dinner table eating a meal prepared by Martin. He was famous for his home-made spaghetti meatballs and the kids always enjoyed it. Tonight, though, everyone seemed to have lost their appetite as meatballs were pushed around the plates and pasta slowly twirled around forks to give them something to do.
Margaret was eating little. She constantly felt sick since the attack on her daughter, especially since she’d been to the hospital and seen the condition Lois was in. It was heartbreaking. Martin had been picking at bits of food all day so was no longer hungry. Jack and Anna were just going through the motions. Only Thomas was eating with any gusto.
‘Where did you hear that word?’ Martin was shocked. He spoke loud and clearly so Thomas could lip-read. He didn’t dare release his grip on his cutlery to expose his shaking hands.
‘Molly at school said that Mum was raped; that’s why she’s gone away. What does it mean?’ This, he signed.
Anna’s lip quivered. She pushed back her plate, and ran out of the room and up the stairs. Margaret quickly followed, eager to comfort her granddaughter.
‘Thomas, rape is a very nasty word. You shouldn’t know words like that. Now, your mum has had a bit of an accident and she is in hospital until she gets better.’
‘Can I see her?’
‘Not at the moment. Soon, though.’
‘What happened?’
Martin looked up at Jack. Their eyes met and they both saw a look of grief, sadness, and horror in each other. This was eating away at the entire family. Anna had hardly spoken since Martin told her what had happened, Jack was his usual quiet self, Margaret was full of questions and Martin was just trying hard to keep it all together for the sake of his children.
‘Thomas, your mum was in a car accident. She wasn’t badly hurt but she just needs to spend a bit of time in hospital until she’s better. Then she can come home.’
‘Will she be home in time for my birthday?’
‘Of course she will,’ he lied convincingly.
‘If I waste my meatballs do I still get afters?’
Martin laughed. He wished life was so simple: to move from the horror of his wife being raped, beaten, and shot to worrying about dessert in a single heartbeat. The innocence of children was beguiling. He wondered what age it was lost – when do people lose it and become cynical, harsh, and cold.
‘Of course you can have afters. Just this once.’
Thomas gave a grin that exposed the gap where his two front teeth should have been and pushed his plate to one side.
Alice Hardaker was alone in the family home on Broad Elms Lane. Her sister Jenny had taken Warren and Milly out for the evening to the cinema to give them a treat and a break from the heavy atmosphere at home. It also gave Alice some alone time to have a bath, something to eat, and maybe have a think about what to do next.
She could not come to terms with Kevin’s betrayal. Apparently the affair had been going on for almost a year. How could she not know? There were no changes in his behaviour, he didn’t spend any extra time at work, no additional meetings, no late nights. The obvious signs of adultery had not appeared at all.
Or had they? Since being made redundant eight months ago she had been spending every day looking for new work as an estate agent. She had contacts who she called and emailed on a regular basis, she posted her CV on recruitment websites and drove round Sheffield going into every estate agent office offering them her expertise. After eight months she was getting desperate. Had being so self-absorbed blinded her from what was happening around her? Had the signs been there? Had Kevin been spending extra time at work and Alice just didn’t notice?
These are the questions she asked herself as she tried to relax in a hot deep bath. By the time the water started to cool her mind was still going over the past few days, weeks, and months seeking answers but not finding them.
Alice was beginning to get yet another headache. Paracetamol was no longer working. Maybe if she had something to eat she would feel be
tter, but she couldn’t stomach anything.
Wrapping herself in a towelling dressing gown she placed her feet in a pair of novelty slippers her children had bought her for Christmas and went downstairs to find something to eat.
It felt strange being in the house alone. Usually it was busy with some form of noise; the television tuned in to a children’s channel where the programmes were loud even at low volume, a music channel with incoherent beats vibrating through the floor boards, or, if her husband was watching television, the news channel would be on, again at a volume loud enough to drown out the playful sounds of the children.
Now, the house was silent: just the hum of the fridge, the distant sound of a clock ticking, and the filter from the fish tank evidence that life was continuing.
Suddenly, Alice felt incredibly alone. The kids were gone, and although they were only ten and seven-years-old, it wouldn’t be all that long until they were grown up and had left for university. What would happen to her then? She’d be left to rattle around a five-bedroom house by herself. Would she re-marry? No, definitely not. She loved Kevin, had trusted him, and he had betrayed her in the worst possible way. How could she trust another man after all the lies and manipulation?
Alice always thought her relationship was a perfect one. Jenny, and her brother, Lucas, had hopped from partner to partner without a care; as if it was their duty to sample as many different people as possible. Every time she met Lucas he seemed to have a different woman in tow, but all Alice had ever wanted was one man, and she had found him. She assumed.
The door to the stainless-steel fridge showed evidence of the sham happy family Alice believed she was a part of. Photographs of Kevin with his arm around his children: all smiles and toothy grins, happy times on holiday, playing in the back garden on the rare occasion it was sunny and dry in Sheffield. Pictures of Kevin and Alice taken at parties: a glass in one hand, the other draped around her waist or over her shoulder. They looked happy, in love; there was no sign of Kevin’s betrayal. He looked genuinely happy. The bastard.
She opened the fridge door and looked inside. She didn’t feel hungry but knew she had to eat something. Her energy levels were dropping and she needed to be strong for the kids, for herself. She picked up some cheese and put it back, did the same with a packet of ham and a salami before going back to the cheese. A cheese toastie – comfort food.
She closed the fridge door and was given the fright of her life. Standing behind it was a figure dressed in black. A tall menacing figure, only the eyes visible through a black mask. He took three huge strides until he loomed over her. She froze in terror and didn’t move a muscle.
‘I’ve come for my money,’ his voice, thick Sheffield accent, was low and deep, scratchy and terrifying.
‘What?’ Alice gasped.
‘My money. Where is it?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘You rich bitches are always the same. You’re all talk until it comes to paying up.’
‘Honestly, I think you must have the wrong house or something. I don’t owe anyone any money.’
He plucked a photograph of Kevin with the kids off the fridge and looked at it. ‘Cute kids. You know, some people won’t hurt kids. They say they have to draw the line somewhere. Me? I don’t give a fuck who I hurt. I’ll make them watch while I rape you then slit their throats.’
‘No. Please don’t hurt my children. They’re all I have left.’ Tears streamed down her face.
Slowly, he pulled at the belt of her dressing gown and let it fall open revealing her shaking naked body. ‘Nice tits, decent body. I could enjoy myself with you. I’d fuck you better than that tosser husband of yours.’
Alice closed her eyes tight and squeezed more tears out. ‘Please,’ she begged, her voice barely a whisper.
He stepped back. ‘It’s a nice place you’ve got here. Mind if I have a look around?’
He started to leave the room then turned back. He pulled a gun out of his waistband and rammed it hard between Alice’s legs. She let out a muffled cry and almost doubled over in pain. ‘You even try to phone the police and I’ll put a bullet in you. You understand?’
She nodded. Alice was shaking, every muscle in her body tensed. As soon as the masked intruder left the room it was as if her spine had been ripped out. She fell to the floor in agony as the tears rained down.
TWENTY
Matilda felt positive when she left Dr Warminster’s office. That was a first. Usually she wanted to put a couple of bricks in her pockets and jump into the River Don. Before tonight, therapy had been a chore, something she had to endure. Now it was her choice and she found she had a new respect for Sheila.
Sheila? I’ll be inviting her over for dinner next.
She hadn’t told her therapist everything, though. Matilda still wasn’t at the stage where she completely opened up. The anonymous note, the feeling of being followed – until Matilda could make sense of what was going on she was going to keep those to herself.
While Matilda was still feeling positive she gave Adele a call and invited her and Chris over for dinner. Chris was out with the lads but Adele was never one to turn down a free meal. She was waiting outside Matilda’s house by the time she pulled up in the drive. A bottle of wine in each hand.
‘Bloody hell, I only phoned you about five minutes ago.’
‘I’m hungry.’
‘I thought you didn’t approve of me drinking,’ Matilda said noticing the bottles.
‘You can drink under adult supervision.’
‘When’s the adult getting here?’
Matilda had been hoping for a good thirty minutes before Adele turned up to get a head start on the meal but instead they prepared it together, enjoying the wine with Matilda filling Adele in on her therapy session.
‘So it was helpful then?’
‘I hate to admit it, but yes it was. It was like starting all over again.’
‘Well you seem brighter, just after one session. Are you sure she didn’t slip you something?’
‘Yes, we had a few snorts before I left.’
‘Are you going to be OK?’
‘I think so. It’s not going to be easy, obviously, but I’m going to be fine. I know it.’
‘Well don’t forget you’ve got me and Chris too.’
‘I know. I really do appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Adele.’
‘I should hope so too. Bloody hell, have we polished off a full bottle already?’
‘Well you have. I’ve only had two glasses.’
‘What is this anyway? All I seem to be doing is chopping. It’s like being at work.’
‘It’s Carbonnade a la Flamande,’ Matilda said, reading from a recipe book.
‘It looks like beef stew.’
‘It is beef stew.’
The doorbell rang. Matilda wiped her hands on a tea towel and went to answer the door.
‘If that’s Aiden Turner, tell him I’m busy,’ Adele called out.
A few seconds later Matilda returned to the kitchen with her neighbour, Jill Carmichael, in tow.
‘Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had company,’ Jill said. She was playing with the sleeves of her sweater and backed out of the doorway. She looked tired. Her hair was lank and lifeless, her skin blotchy and dry.
‘Don’t be silly, come on in. Adele isn’t company, are you?’
‘No. I’m practically furniture. Glass of wine?’ Adele proffered the bottle.
‘I better not, thanks. I just came over to beg an onion. I could have sworn I put them in my trolley but I couldn’t have done.’ She ran her fingers through her hair, or she tried to at least. They became caught up in the knots.
Matilda handed her a large onion from the fridge. ‘Anything else?’
Jill remained rooted to the spot, staring straight ahead.
‘Jill?’ Matilda prompted.
‘Sorry?’
‘Is there anything else you’d like
?’
‘I … No that’s it, thank you. I’ll buy you a replacement when I next go to the shops.’
‘Don’t be silly. It’s only an onion.’
‘Thanks. I appreciate it. I’d better get back. Sebastian will start wondering where I am. Nice to have met you,’ she said to Adele.
Matilda showed her out while Adele poured two more glasses of wine.
‘She looked rough,’ Adele said when Matilda returned.
‘I think she’s having a hard time with the baby. Her husband works a lot of hours so she’s looking after her on her own practically.’
‘Poor cow. She was a bundle of nerves. Mind you, if she’s not sleeping properly she will be. Wine?’ She handed a glass out for Matilda.
‘You’re a bad influence on me, do you know that?’
‘That’s really sweet of you to say, thank you.’
While the beef stew cooked Matilda and Adele sat in the living room. A fire was lit and the curtains were drawn. It was starting to go dark.
‘How’s it going with the shooting?’ Adele asked.
‘Slowly. I had an email from Sian when I came out from therapy. The tech guys have finished with Lois’s phone. Seems she deletes everything on it at the end of every day but nothing is permanently deleted, as we know. There are some steamy conversations between Lois and Kevin.’
‘Ooh, send them over to me. I could do with a bit of steam.’
Matilda was just about to reply when the doorbell rang again. She looked at her watch. ‘I wonder who this is.’
‘Maybe word has got out about your Carbonnade a la Flamande and people from all over Sheffield are flocking for a taste.’
‘You’re a sarcastic bugger, Adele.’
Matilda opened the front door to a bored-looking delivery driver in a dishevelled uniform.
‘Matilda Drake?’
‘Darke.’
‘Sorry?’
‘It’s Matilda Darke.’
He squinted at his clipboard in the fading light. ‘So it is. Got a delivery for you.’
‘Oh right, thank you.’
He slouched to the large van and lifted up the back doors. ‘I might need a hand,’ he called out to her.