No sooner had I read the ruined time-sheet when the front doorbell rang. I glanced up at the clock. It would be the kids, home from school. Although my handbag was sticky and inky I shoved both the time-sheet and the pen back into it and chucked it onto a dining chair. As I opened the door to let the children in I noticed Abi locking her car and walking up towards the house. I didn’t think I could cope with another conversation but I waved and manufactured a smile, which I hoped was both welcoming and reassuring.
‘Are you OK, Mum?’ Rose said. ‘Have you had a good day?’
I kissed her on the head and told her I had. Michael gave me a high-five, which I took to mean that he was feeling better about himself already. The kids dashed past me, and charged upstairs. I wondered where Abi’s children were. As I moved towards her to give her a peck on the cheek she baulked.
‘Are you OK?’ she said.
‘I’m going to punch the next person that asks me that,’ I said, smiling again.
‘It’s just that you look…’
She stood back and examined my face. It was very disconcerting.
‘Look what?’ I said.
‘You just look like you’re not very well. Like you’ve been poorly or something.’
Rose screamed. And I heard a bump coming from her room, followed by hurried footsteps.
Even before the scream stopped I realised that I had forgotten about the vomit on her bedroom floor.
‘I’m sorry, Abi,’ I said, backing away from the door. ‘I spilt something in Rose’s room earlier — I was just going to clear it up when you arrived.’
‘Do you want a hand?’ she said.
‘It’s fine really, it will only take me a minute.’
I heard Rose running down the stairs. It sounded like she was crying.
‘Sorry, Abi. I’ll give you a call. Later on. Is that OK?’
Rose was starting to shout now — in a moment she would announce that someone had puked on her floor. Abi looked over my shoulder at the commotion.
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘For bringing them back. I’ll call you.’
I held my hand up like a phone to my ear and pushed the door shut as quickly as I could without being rude.
As I turned round, Rose bashed into me, her face wet against my jeans.
‘Someone’s been sick in my room,’ she screamed. ‘It’s all over my carpet.’
I heard her brother coming down the stairs now. He would have run in to her room to see what all the fuss was about and then come down to make some gross comment about it.
‘I’m so sorry, darling,’ I said. ‘I was just going up to clean it when you got home. I was a bit poorly when I was in your room earlier. It will all be fine. I’m so sorry.’
Michael decided now would be a good time to stir the commotion up even more.
‘What were you doing in her room anyway?’ he said. ‘Have you been in my room too?’
Rose stopped crying and looked up at me.
‘What were you doing in my room?’ she said.
‘I was just dusting it and airing it a bit. I open the windows in the house every now and then, just to let the air in. So it’s all nice and fresh for us.’
Rose turned her head to look at Michael. He nodded at her.
‘It’s disgusting,’ she said. ‘Please will you get rid of it.’
‘I’m going straight up to do it now.’
‘I thought you said you were OK today?’ Rose said.
‘I was OK. Just apart from that one little thing.’
‘It doesn’t look very little.’
‘I’m going up now, Rosie. Why don’t you see what’s on the telly while I sort it all out.’
No wonder she had screamed. It looked much worse on her carpet than I had remembered. And the smell was horrendous. It was a wonder she hadn’t been sick herself.
By the time I’d finished rubbing away at it, and squirting carpet shampoo over the area, it looked pretty good. Cleaner than the rest of the carpet. I opened her bedroom window and left the door ajar.
When I got downstairs she was watching a cartoon.
‘Leave it for a bit to dry,’ I said. ‘About half an hour should do it.’
‘Is it all gone now?’ she asked.
‘It’s all gone. I’ll vacuum once it’s dry. You’ll never know it was there.’
A stupid comment, I know, and she gave me a frowny look to say as much.
I threw the cleaning cloth in the bin and put the bowl in the sink in the kitchen. I had just finished washing and drying my hands when the phone rang. My heart jumped. What on earth else had I done in the missing time? I wanted to let the call go to answer phone, but I heard Rose already on her feet and heading for the extension. I grabbed the phone.
‘Hello?’
‘Hello? Is that Mrs Marsden?’
Soft voice. Irish accent. Reassuring.
‘Mr Connell?’ I said. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine, thank you. More importantly, how are you?’
For some reason his question shocked me. Perhaps he had spoken to Doctor Jones. But I didn’t think the doctor would tell him about my blackout. Surely that was confidential. I could tell him I had just been sick on my daughter’s bedroom carpet. It occurred to me that I might have driven to his house as well as Donna’s in the new missing chunk of time?
‘I’m fine too.’ I said.
‘OK. I did try ringing your mobile number first, but it went straight to voice mail.’
I had no idea where my mobile phone was. I didn’t remember seeing it my ink covered handbag. I scanned the kitchen to see if it was lying around somewhere. It wasn’t.
‘I’m not sure where my mobile is. It’s probably run out of batteries somewhere. Sorry about that.’
‘I’ve spoken to Trevor Jones at the Health Centre. We had quite a long chat about you.’
Oh shit.
‘Really?’ I said. ‘What about?’
‘Just about whether or not you were to be referred or not. We both felt that, given your circumstances, it would be appropriate to refer you.’
‘OK.’ I said. I wondered what he was referring to when he said “circumstances”. ‘So what does that mean then?’
‘Well, it means that you can come and see me, and the cost will be covered for you. We agreed that an initial period of ten weeks might be suitable. We can then review it after that. Normally ten weeks is plenty.’
My blood raced a bit. At one point I had considered Colin Connell as a potential murderer and a possible suspect in drugging me. I knew that those considerations were all highly dubious and based solely on a chaotic imagination, paranoia and fear. But nevertheless, once you have thought of someone in that way, it’s hard to see them any different.
‘That’s… great,’ I said, trying to sound like it really was.
He obviously picked up on my tone.
‘If you’ve second thoughts,’ he said ‘or if you’d prefer not to come to see me, we can arrange for you to see someone else. Of course you don’t have to have counselling at all if you’d rather not. We would recommend it, but the choice is yours.’
‘When were you thinking of starting it,’ I said.
‘The sooner the better. I have a slot tomorrow at 10 o’clock if that suits. And then at that time every week. We can always give it a try, and if you find that it’s not helpful then we can just stop at any time.’
Shit.
Come on, Christine.
‘Tomorrow at ten is absolutely fine,’ I said. ‘Do I need to bring anything with me?’
‘Not really,’ he said. ‘You might find it helpful this evening to write down everything that’s been happening since you were attacked. All the things you’ve felt, physically, mentally and emotionally. If you can put dates against each item it would help you to get a good picture of what you’ve been feeling. Also, if you’ve any questions you might want to ask me, you can jot them down too. You don’t have to do this, of course, but it may help. And if you do, you don’t have to b
ring your writings with you, I don’t need to see them, unless you want me to. It’s just to help you get everything down.’
Perhaps he wasn’t a murderer after all. And maybe he hadn’t tried to drug me. He sounded nice. More importantly, he sounded professional.
‘Thank you, Mr Connell,’ I said. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow at ten.’
‘No problem,’ he said. ‘And please do call me Colin.’
Neil was late home again. Almost forty-five minutes. He hadn’t rung me. I didn’t know if he had texted because I still couldn’t find my mobile. He kissed me on the cheek. I smelled no alcohol. No trace of spicy food. And no perfume. In fact, he smelled a bit like he had been exerting himself. Not sweaty and not body odour, but maybe one level below that.
As his lips and nose touched my face I shuddered. His face was icy cold.
‘You’re freezing,’ I said. ‘Where have you been?’
He dropped his briefcase on the floor by the shoes and coats and took his overcoat off.
‘Nowhere,’ he said. ‘Apart from work, and driving home. Did you get my text?’
I put my hand against his cheek. He moved his face away.
‘You’re face is so cold,’ I said. ‘What on earth have you been doing?’
‘I haven’t been doing anything. I had the window open on the way home, just to get some air. I did text you to say I was still having to work a bit late.’
‘I’m not sure where my mobile is. I must have put it down somewhere. I think it’s out of battery. You didn’t ring.’
‘Because I sent you a text.’
As greetings go, I knew this wasn’t a very good one. I really wanted to ask him how his day was, and for him to ask me about mine. I wanted to tell him about my visit to the hospital, the MRI, that I blacked out again, that I was apparently hanging around outside Harry’s house and that I had been sick in Rose’s room after “waking up” there with a wet flannel hidden behind my back.
I wanted to tell him that I was booked in to see Mr Connell the next day. And I wanted to tell him that I (or someone) had scored through my time-sheet and written the word “Bitch” on it.
And part of me knew that the real Neil would want to hear about those things too. But he wasn’t the real Neil at that moment. And I certainly wasn’t the real Christine.
But I knew that we were both strong individuals, and that we had been even stronger together. And right then, our strong wills were stopping us from communicating.
Rose broke the impasse.
‘Mum was sick in my bedroom today,’ she said from behind the sofa. ‘I nearly stepped in it when I got home from school.’
She poked her head over the sofa and smiled at Neil.
‘Oh no,’ he said ‘poor Mum.’
He looked at me, and this time his face showed more than just eyebrow movement. Despite his comment to Rose, I saw no concern or sympathy in his eyes. His brow furrowed and the sides of his mouth drooped slightly. He looked like a man who had just been told he had lost the race. Even though he had given his all, given his very best, it had not been good enough.
‘Come into the kitchen,’ I said. ‘I’ll make us a coffee.’
I told him about my day. I hadn’t seen him so animated for a long time. He listened intently, made appropriate sounds with his voice, generally at the right times, and he seemed (at last) interested and concerned. He seemed particularly concerned, even worried perhaps, when I showed him my time-sheet, and I think he had to stop himself from saying something when I told him about looking down at Rose’s bed. I don’t think he was entirely worried just for me.
At one point, he reached out for my hand.
Being The Mighty Atom, I held it together pretty good.
‘I’m not going to let bloody insanity get the better of me,’ I said. ‘Just let it bloody try.’
Neil returned my smile of defiance with a smile of something else. Pity, I think.
‘I mean it,’ I said. ‘I’m not going to let some bastard with a skateboard fuck up my life.’
Neil’s eyes flickered at the comment. His face seemed to momentarily change colour. It was so fleeting that I wasn’t sure if it reddened or whitened. It was as though someone had temporarily knocked him off balance. Less than a second later, he was back.
‘What’s this Colin Connell like?’ he said.
It sounded a little like he was changing the subject.
‘He seems nice,’ I said.
Neil raised his eyebrows.
‘Not in that way,’ I said. ‘He seems like a nice person. He has a daughter in University and his wife died in an accident about six months ago.’
‘What kind of accident?’
I pictured the new rug in Colin’s study.
‘I have no idea,’ I said. ‘I didn’t think it was right to ask.’
‘Well, he’d better not try anything funny. Or he’ll end up having a bloody accident.’
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