Beyond Angel Avenue

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

  I can’t, though. I’ll frighten him.

  I can feel in every nook and cranny of my body, I’m tense and tight. I’ve had an anxiety attack in my sleep. It’s why my dreams were so fucked up.

  I’m cramping everywhere. I need water.

  I lift myself gently, checking the clock. It’s 5.30, so thankfully nobody will be up yet.

  I creak across the floor gently, avoiding waking my husband.

  “Jules?” he mumbles into a pillow.

  “My bladder, go back to sleep.”

  In our en suite, I sit on the toilet. The anxiety has churned my guts and it’s lucky I made it to the toilet and don’t have a Laura situation going on, too. I dare not look at myself but I lift off eventually and stare at myself in the mirror above the sink.

  The bags under my eyes are grey.

  I look drained.

  It’s like I’ve slept a thousands sleeps, and I’ve only made myself a thousand times more tired.

  I scoop water from under the tap into my mouth and my parched throat eventually gains some succour from the cool, rectifying liquid. I pat my face with cool drops, trying to revive myself.

  I feel utterly depleted.

  My limbs ache and my heart feels wrong. I’d probably break any blood pressure gauges right now and the cramp in my calves is so painful, I’ve sort of gone numb trying to combat it. Checking my mouth, I see I’ve bit my lip and I may have to start wearing a mouth guard for bed once more if these bad dreams become commonplace again – like they were when I was a teenager. I had to have dental work to rebuild teeth I’ve ground a lot in my sleep.

  I run the taps in the bath gently. I don’t want the thundering water to wake anyone in the house. While they’re running, I take out two aspirin from the cabinet and swallow.

  “I can’t work today, not when I’m feeling like this,” I whisper to myself.

  I remember mornings like this when I was a teacher. I’d wake from an exhausting night’s sleep, I’d pop some pills, maybe even reach for a snifter, and a few cigs would sort me out. Now I can’t do any of these things to rectify myself. Well, I could, but I won’t. Nowadays I have to be the strong one in case stuff happens to other people.

  In the dreams, I always know there’s something wrong. It’s a deeply subconscious thing and even though a part of me knows I’m dreaming, it all seems so very, very real.

  I peek my head out of the crack in the door to check Warrick is actually still alive. Thankfully, he is. Whew.

  It was all a dream, it was all a dream, I tell myself, but the anxiety is there, right in the middle of my chest. It feels so heavy on my heart, I can’t explain it except it’s all consuming and nothing can take away how I feel. I can’t rectify this. My dreams are an explosion of bitter, unresolved issues and they’re very real to me because they mean so much. They’re the problems I want to face but can’t. I don’t have the strength to.

  I sink down into a lukewarm bath and rub some salt scrub into my calves, trying to iron out the cramps in my legs. It’ll be because I was so tense in sleep, my muscles don’t know how else to react.

  “Jules?” Warrick whispers and pushes open the door, letting himself in. “Whoa, what’s happened? Your alarm just woke me.”

  “I can’t go in today, don’t ask me to explain, but I can’t. I’ve had an anxiety dream.”

  He looks concerned and sits by the side of the bath next to me, stroking my hair gently. “You didn’t wake me up though? You used to have these dreams when I was doing undercover work. Your noises would always wake me up. I can’t believe this, because you haven’t had one in ages.”

  “Did I really used to wake you up?” I can’t remember. I touch my mouth and try to think back.

  “It was half the reason why I let you go that first time. I thought you were better off without me. You were having nightmares and I used to wake up next to you, grunting and grinding in your sleep. You’d be covered in sweat and so deep under, I’d change the bed while you were still laid there, getting rolled about while I made it clean and dry for you.”

  “I don’t remember any of that. I’ve always had deep, vivid dreams, yeah, but most I forget as soon as I’m awake. The one last night… I remember every minute of. The really vivid ones I still remember afterwards are rare. Otherwise I’d normally wake up feeling like someone had walked over my grave… unable to remember why. When I’d wake up, I’d know I was ill but it would pass, because I’d forget. This morning, I’m left in a constant state of anxiety because it all still seems so real. It seemed so real last night. My dreams have never seemed as real as they did last night,” I repeat, trying to find some sanity.

  He presses a kiss to my forehead and strokes my cheek, looking very worried.

  “Okay,” he says softly, tucking hair behind my ears, his eyes scanning mine for signs of trauma, “what happened in last night’s dream?”

  I clear my mind and tell him clearly, “I was training, we were in the office, and William Barker was training us. I came home from the first day of training and found Joe in bed upstairs, with a girl. It wasn’t Shana, but some scruffy little thing. I told him off, told him that you would kill him if you found out. The dream jumped to my first day on the job and I was paired up with a woman called Lilah.” I stop to take a breath and he strokes my arms, encouraging me to go steady. “We did our rounds and some clients were awful, some were sweet and kind, just a little lonely. Janice was there, she had drugs in her bag, and I texted Ronnie to tell him. He said lay off and then there was Lilah, who said William Barker was the one running it and she mentioned Miranda’s real name was–”

  “Kim Scales?” Warrick says immediately.

  “Yes, god, how did you know? How did I know?”

  He shakes his head, his big eyes bugging. “I don’t know. So, what else happened?”

  “I rang Ronnie and he seemed to already know William Barker was in on it. When I was speaking to him, I remembered a scene from when I was young, and I remember Kim and my mum were old school friends. I missed some of what Ronnie was telling me and then he said, ‘watch out for Lilah’ and I didn’t trust him because Lilah had been so good to me that day. So then I was driving over the bridge and saw Anna running to the walkway. I pulled the car in and chased her. I tried to stop her jumping but you turned up and she tried to push me over instead, she wanted me dead and wanted you to suffer but you saved me and, she jumped anyway. When she didn’t survive, you couldn’t handle it. Joe was there. He was watching his dead mother being brought to shore and you just turned, you turned, something inside you took over and you were gone and the black monster inside you had you and I couldn’t stop you. You jumped, too, and that’s when I felt like my heart had stopped. I felt dead inside. And, I woke up!”

  I get to the end and he pulls me close, and I burrow into his shoulder, sobbing wildly. I can’t live without him. He’s my whole reason for being. I love him so much. I can’t describe how much he means to me.

  “In the dream, it was like Miranda was dead too, like actually dead. I can’t explain it but I really think Miranda or Kim, whatever her name was, is dead.”

  “Hush, Jules. You need to try to relax, baby. You need to calm down, baby. Please, I’m frightened for you. You’re shaking so hard.”

  He kisses me all over my face but I can’t stop shaking. He tests the water and it’s gone cold so he helps lift me out and wraps me in a big bath sheet, pulling me into his arms, on his lap on the floor. He cuddles me tight and strokes my face while I cry.

  “It’ll never be over, Rick. Never. I went away and as soon as I came back, it all flooded into me again, all my past. It’s like there is something that happened, something I forgot. It’s haunted me for years and I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this. It makes no sense.”

  “Please don’t cry, my baby, please.”

  “Warrick, it’s like feeling so hopeless, so defenceless, there’s nothing you can do to put it right. There’s nothing you can do, nothing at al
l.”

  “We’ve ignored what’s been going on with Anna for too long,” he says, “nobody else is willing to help her. Your dreams are just warnings of what might happen. She might, you know? Joe told me just last night that a week ago, she barged her way in here with a paying customer, fucked him on our bed with the door locked and left. She’s turned into a prostitute.”

  I look up and into his eyes. “What? How did she–”

  “She’s been sacked. She raided or hacked, whatever, confidential records to find our address. Joe says he must have left the door unlocked by accident and she knew we wouldn’t be here. She must watch us and know, she knows when we’ll be out.”

  “In our bed?” My blood runs cold, when I should be raging with anger, but I watched her jump and I know what the pits of despair can be like.

  “Joe,” Warrick hiccups, coughing on his own tears, “bless him, he changed the bed for us and was terrified of telling me. Terrified.”

  “Oh, Warrick.” I cry with him, because he’s hurting so much. “We’re still the only thing that makes sense. The only thing.”

  “I know,” he mumbles, “this world is so fucked up, baby, so fucked up.”

  It’ll fuck us up, if we let it, I remind myself. But I can’t be without him again, I just can’t.

  After we cry a bit more, Warrick helps dry me and then carries me back to bed. We lie quietly in each other’s arms, recovering from our mutual, emotional outpouring. At seven, I call William Barker and tell him I’ve changed my mind. He doesn’t take the news badly, in fact he takes it as if he expected me to chicken out. I don’t care what he thinks, because if he’s involved in drugs, my husband is going to nail him.

  When the twins wake, we take them downstairs and begin the morning routine. Joe joins us all in the kitchen soon enough and gasps, “Jules, you’re still here?”

  He runs up to me and kisses me, even. Grabbed in his arms, he hugs me fiercely.

  “What’s this in aid of?”

  “I thought you’d be gone already to that… job.”

  I shake my head. “Changed my mind.”

  “I’m glad, because it seemed like a bad idea if you ask me.”

  He breathes a huge sigh of relief, shocking me to realise Joe thinks so highly of me, to be worried about me getting into trouble.

  “Your dad told me about your mother,” I pause, waiting for the news to sink in, “we have bigger things to worry about, don’t we?”

  “Oh.” His face falls, and with it, his heart. “Is that why you look all pasty and grey this morning?”

  “Suppose so,” I reply, sheepish, trying to cover the real reason why I’m still shaking and my heart, racing.

  “You want a shake, Dad?” he asks, “after I’ve showered?”

  “Nah, son. I’m gonna give work a miss today and stay with Jules. She’s feeling a little shaken, that’s all. I’ll stay home, and everything will be fine.”

  “Okay, no worries. Shake for one then.”

  Joe jumps the stairs, heading for the shower. I rub my cheek and try to stop myself crying. I squeak, “Do you think he’s still a virgin? Was the dream right?”

  Warrick shakes his head. “He can’t keep anything from me, Jules. He’s always hated lying otherwise he wouldn’t have told me about Anna. It really hurt him to tell me about that, you know? It took guts.”

  I nod slowly. “I understand.”

  “If he’d done it, I’d know. He’d tell me, if only to make sure he hadn’t broken something!”

  “What?” I snigger.

  “It hurts for guys too, Jules!”

  Warrick cuddles our babies together on his lap. Because they have each other, Harry and Charlie are always so content. I quickly fire off a text to Kitty, letting her know we’re all staying home today because of a bug. She seems fine about it.

  When Joe’s gone to school and we’re all dressed, Warrick turns to me and says, “So, what are we going to tell Ronnie?”

  I nod, swallowing my nerves. “Tell him to meet us at my father’s farm.”

  Warrick nods jerkily too, feeling the same nerves as me.

  Chapter Thirty

  Jules

  Warrick’s driving us across the bridge and today, everything looks normal. The sky’s powder-grey and clouds are moving steadily across the horizon. Water tips slowly at the basin of the estuary and there are no rescue boats in sight, nor any jumpers hanging around.

  “We might have to get a book of bridge tickets if we’re coming over here all the time,” he warns me.

  “I hope not.”

  As he’s taking us slowly over the bridge, our babies asleep in the back, I rest my head back against the seat and shut my eyes a moment. I’m so exhausted still.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  “Fine,” I say, “just resting my eyes.”

  “Go for it. Don’t fall asleep though. We’ll be there in ten if there’s no traffic.”

  My eyes shut, I listen for his gear changes and the engine noises, knowing when he’s stopping at a roundabout and when he’s pulling into a country road or a built-up one.

  Gently, my mind wanders and I’m seeing another vision of the past…

  “Julianne, stay out of this,” my mother asks, and I trudge upstairs, unhappy.

  They’re fighting again and I don’t know why. I’m curious to know why. I’m seven and I want to know, WHY, WHY, WHY! It’s all a seven year old wants to know.

  I stomp the stairs, making like I’m going up, but then I creep back down after they seem convinced I’m gone.

  “You need to stop dealing, Julian.”

  What’s dealing?

  “Can’t. You know that.”

  “Stop or we’re done.”

  “Easy for you, innit?” he growls, angry. I hear from her slight cry of terror, he has hold of her. “You’re the one who got me hooked.”

  “You’re the only one who can get yourself off. Dealing won’t help you defeat the devil, will it?”

  He hisses and lets her go, pacing the floor, his big boots squeaking on the linoleum. “If you go trying to barter with Fitzgerald again, he might not play nice next time. I’m warning you Lore, don’t. Just keep playing nice, take Julianne to school, do your receptionist job, and forget about what I’m doing. Trust me, you don’t want to get involved. I know what I’m going.”

  She laughs bitterly. “Julian, please. Quit and let’s all go. Run away. Start again. Julie is so gifted, she deserves better. She could be a dancer, you know?”

  He scoffs, “Yeah, right.”

  “I love you. I want to stand by you, but you’re making it hard for me. I want better for my daughter, it’s all I want.”

  “Oh it’s alright for you. You got off easy, didn’t you?”

  “I did not. It was the hardest thing I ever did, quitting, but I did it for Julie. She deserves better. I won’t ever go back there, never ever. I’m done with all that, I wish you were too.”

  She slams the door and goes outside, lighting up a cigarette. I creep up the stairs and try to figure out what dealing means and what it was my mum quit.

  “Jules?” Rick asks, his hand on my thigh. “Jules?”

  I open my eyes and feel tears running down my face. “I was remembering something else.” I take a hankie from my pocket and wipe my eyes.

  “Oh, baby,” he looks upset, but we’re not far from the farm, so he may as well get us there first. We pull up at the wooden gates and he leans over the central console, kissing my face.

  “Are you okay?” he asks as I try to steady myself.

  “I’m remembering the year I thought I’d forgotten. I remember it all. The weeks before she died… some of the stuff after. It’s all flooding back. It’s difficult.” I rub at the pain in my chest, the physical grief still there troubling me, and he takes my hand to kiss it.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  A few seconds later, Ronnie pulls up behind us in his black BMW. He steps out
in casual clothes and Warrick tells me, “Wait here while I talk with him a mo.”

  I take Warrick’s forearm. “I’ll be okay. Give me a mo. Don’t tell him I’m upset or anything.”

  “Okay.” He kisses my nose and leaves the vehicle.

  They stand behind our car, having a little chat. I can’t hear what they’re saying. It’s all said in whispers or whatever.

  I notice the For Sale sign still blowing in the wind. Nobody local would want this place, not knowing what might have gone here. It would have to be an outsider that might buy the farm but even then, who’d want a pig farm on the outskirts of a degenerating town? Seems like my dad didn’t keep it tidy, either, not going by the ruined pointing and the tile roof in need of replacing.

  “Jules?” Warrick asks, opening my passenger door.

  “Yep, coming.” I climb out and without a word, I walk ahead of them and push the wooden gate open to let us on the property. There’s no lock or anything.

  I walk on the gravel towards the house and the two cars follow me into the small courtyard surrounded by barns on either side, adjacent to the house. I head to the house and to the key safe, keying in the code Dad’s solicitor’s gave me. Until this place is sold, the only person who can lay claim to it is me.

  I haven’t been here in years and it’s eerie, and wrong, all wrong. He supposedly got this with lottery money but now I know, none of that is true.

  I open the front door and key in the alarm code. The bleeps stop and Ronnie joins me in the house.

  “So, what do you have for me? Why did you get me here? Why are you quitting before you’ve even begun?” I turn and examine his face. Seems Warrick’s already given him a piece of his mind out there. “He’s just warned me off so either you give me what you got, or we forget all about this and I go back to square one and find another way of ending it.”

  The house is fairly empty and I ask him, “You’ve searched this place already, I’m guessing?”

  “Yeah, of course. Found nothing.”

  I nod. “Okay. Let’s try one other avenue.”

  I gesture we head outside and I spot Warrick by the side of our car, watching the babies with the windows slightly down. I wink and he folds his arms, agreeing to keep watch as I lead Ronnie to the pig sty round the side of one of the big barns. I know this place because the lawyers sent me the land and floor plans to approve the asking price.