As I walked back into the health centre waiting room, Abi stood. She looked concerned.
‘Everything OK?’ she said.
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Fine. Let’s go.’
She took my arm. I felt like an invalid being helped to the car. I didn’t take my arm away.
‘Coffee?’ she said.
‘Please,’ I said. ‘But let’s go somewhere not too near. I need to get my thoughts together.’
Abi drove and said nothing.
Something was bothering me.
It wasn’t the question about mental illness in my family. I told him that there was none. I thought that Mum and Dad were totally transparent, what you saw was what you got. And as far as I knew, their parents and siblings were too. If they were hiding any kind of mental issues they were making a damned good job of it.
But before he’d asked the question, while I sat listening to him drone on, something had clicked into place in my mind.
I opened the car window a little and breathed in. Abi still said nothing, allowing me the time I needed.
The sky was turning the colour of milky charcoal. No doubt more shitty weather on the way.
Come on Christine — think.
A splat of rain hit the car windscreen. I watched it spread out. Watched it drip down the glass.
And it came to me. The little bit of something that had stuck to my mind, fluttered.
The wet flannel. When I had woken up in Rose’s room, I had the wet flannel behind my back.
In the latest dream I had covered the girls face with a wet cloth.
Goosebumps popped up on my back. I had been re-enacting the dream — with the flannel, in Rose’s room. But I hadn’t had that dream yet. And the pain in my leg was from a wound inflicted by the girl as she fought me. She used the bottle that I had taken and hidden in the gorse. Either it had broken in the struggle, or she had managed to smash it herself, and she stabbed me with it. But I’d had the leg pain ever since the skateboard attack, not just since this dream.
I shivered. I felt as though someone was watching me. I glanced over at Abi, but she was looking for somewhere for us to stop.
Now I knew what the flannel and the pain in my leg were, but what did it all mean? Was this something that was going to happen in the future? Was I going to kill Rose? Did someone I know intend to go out killing young girls?
‘Is over there OK?’ Abi said.
She was pointing at a small coffee shop I had not been to before. It was tucked between a betting shop and a bank.
‘Great,’ I said.
Perhaps my dreams were actually nothing more than my mind trying to make sense of the feelings and actions that had already happened to me.
Perhaps my dream concocted the attack in order to make sense of why I had an inexplicable pain in my leg. Perhaps the cloth in the dream was only there to help explain why I had a wet flannel behind my back in Rose’s room.
And perhaps all of the dreams, visions, voices and sensations were simply my mind fighting back after being attacked. All the memory loss, all the horrors that I had felt. Perhaps they really were all nothing more than my brain, swollen and bruised since the injuries, fighting its way back to normal and fighting the attacker that I was unable to fight in real life at the time.
Abi parked the car against the pavement.
‘My treat,’ she said.
The coffee shop was empty of customers, but had two staff behind the counter. The smell of fresh coffee beans was glorious. We ordered our coffee and sat down at a table by the window. A suited businessman strode in and asked for an expresso and a muffin to take out. Once he was gone, the only noise came from the street outside and the clanking of coffee pots and mugs in the shop.
‘So how was it?’ Abi said.
I realised how shallow my breathing had become. I took a deep breath and blew the air out of my mouth slowly.
‘I may have to go for a psychiatric assessment,’ I said.
Abi tried to keep the shock from her face. She obviously didn’t know what to say.
‘He’s going to look through my notes and talk to colleagues. Then he’ll let me know.’
Abi found her voice.
‘Do you really think you’ll need that?’
I shook my head.
‘I have no idea, Abs. Perhaps it’s just what I need.’
She took a sip of her coffee. Hid behind the mug for a moment.
‘Did you mention Michael and Rose?’
‘No. You and Neil thought it was a bad idea, and to be honest, so did I. I think I just wanted to make sure they were safe, so perhaps I wasn’t thinking quite straight.’
Abi smiled.
‘I’m pleased,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you did the right thing.’
‘I have made a decision about what I’m going to do though,’ I said.
She put her mug on the table. Steam drifted up from it.
‘I’m going to go and stay with my mum and dad for a bit. If they’ll have me.’
‘OK?’ she said.
‘That way I know I won’t be any harm to Michael or Rose.’
‘What about your mum and dad?’ she said.
She had spotted the flaw in my plan.
‘I know,’ I said. ‘But I’ve been thinking about this. I don’t think I’m much of a danger to adults. All the dreams and visions and feelings have been directed towards children.’
The clanking behind the counter stopped and I realised how awful my last sentence had sounded. I lowered my voice.
‘Apart from the woman I thought was in my car, nothing else has had anything to do with adults. I don’t know, maybe it’s to do with the fact that I was attacked by someone relatively young.’
Abi picked up her mug and sipped.
‘I just need to know that the kids are safe,’ I said.
‘Why not come and stay with us for a while?’ she said. ‘We’d be happy to have you.’
I thought about Oli. Thought about the hassle I would be to them both. And I thought about Josie and Jess.
‘It wouldn’t be right, Abs,’ I said. ‘Thank you for offering, but I would worry about Josie and Jess.’
She thought for a moment.
‘Why don’t I have Michael and Rose stay with us then?’ she said. ‘Josie and Jess would love it. It makes sense. I pick them up and take them into school anyway at the moment. Why not have them stay?’
‘I knew you’d offer to help, Abs. But it would be a real hassle for you and Oliver.’
Abi sat back in the chair and laughed.
‘What hassle?’ she said. We have a spare room that they could both use, or Rose could go in with Jess. Seriously, Chris, it would be easy to do. Then you know the kids are safe and you don’t have to put your parents through anything.’
She leaned forward across the table.
‘Besides,’ she said. ‘I would need to look after them until Neil got back from work anyway.’
‘I thought I would ask Neil if he could change his working hours a little. Just for the time being. Just while I sort out my head problems.’
Abi shook her head.
‘No offence, Chris, but can you really see the bank being compassionate? They’re a huge organisation. I can’t see them taking into account the needs of an employee’s wife, can you?’
I felt like I was on the brink of caving in. I had been sure that my original idea of staying with Mum and Dad had been the right one. But now I wasn’t.
‘What about Oli?’ I said.
‘Chris, it’ll be great for us all. You know what the kids are like when they’re together. We never hear or see any of them. It will make our lives easier.’
‘I would give you money for board and food and stuff. And I can get Neil to come over and get their washing. Or I could cycle over and get it.’
Abi looked for all the world like she was going to throw the last of her coffee in my face.
‘We’re friends, Chris,’ she hissed. ‘Fuck off.’
‘Well
you must let me do something,’ I said.
‘You can. You can make sure you get better. And do it quickly, otherwise I’ll keep your children.’
I reached across the table and squeezed her hand.
‘Thank you, Abi,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
With her free hand she pointed her forefinger down her throat and pretended to be sick.
I kicked her under the table.
‘When do you want to do it?’ she said.
‘Well, I was going to ask Mum and Dad and Neil tonight, and arrange it for tomorrow. Is that too soon?’
‘The sooner the better,’ she said. ‘Get them over and let the fun begin.’
I was still squeezing her hand. She moved it away.
‘Another coffee?’ she said.
I shook my head.
‘I think I need to get home. Start washing some of the kid’s clothes, sort out towels and things.’
Abi grabbed her handbag and finished her coffee.
‘I’ll help,’ she said. ‘I’ll stay with you until it’s time to get the kids.’
I made sure I kept myself busy for the rest of the day. While I was waiting for the washing machine to finish, I ironed shirts and skirts. I made us lunch and coffees and Abi helped go through the kid’s wardrobes to find the clothes I thought Michael and Rose would want to take.
Ever since the journey home I had been wanting to broach the subject of how long the kids would be staying with Abi. I’m sure she was wondering too. But neither of us brought it up. I had no idea how long it would take me to find a solution to my loss of mind control.
When it came to picking-up-time from school I had to mention it.
‘I don’t know how long this is going to take, Abi. I have no idea at all.’
‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I’m happy to have them for as long as it takes. Months if needs be.’
‘Of course I need to run all this by Neil,’ I said. ‘He might knock it dead in the water. He won’t want the kids away for long, I’m sure. Maybe it will spur him into trying to sort something out with his work.’
‘Do you want me to mention anything to them when I pick them up? Or do you want to talk to them yourself?’
‘I think I’d like to wait until they’re home. I’d like to sit down with them both and tell them.’
Abi picked up her handbag and rummaged around for her car keys.
‘I’ll leave my bag here,’ she said.
When she was gone I opened a few more windows in the house. I took the opportunity to walk into every room and breath in the atmosphere. Our bedroom still smelled of hair-spray and deodorant from the morning. Michael’s room smelled vaguely of socks and damp. Rose’s bedroom still smelled of the carpet shampoo.
But in each room there was also the smell of the people. With my eyes shut I would have known who inhabited each room, just by the smell. Not the smell of the things in the room, but by the smell of themselves that was indelibly present.
I opened the airing cupboard and pulled some clean towels out for them to take. They smelled fresh and felt warm. I looked at the spare flannels. The sight of them made me think about Doctor Jones. How long would it take for him to make a decision about the state of my mental health? It felt like some things were now out of my hands. I hated the feeling of not being in control over my own future. I felt a surge of anger, and then power. But not the nasty power that I had been feeling of late. This was a “just” power. A “determined to win” power. Whatever it took I was going to beat this thing. I was going to fight it with everything I had.
I thought back to my trek up The Andes. Reminded myself how strong I could be. I remembered obstacles that I had overcome, determined not to be beaten.
I thought about Rose’s birth. How hit-and-miss it had felt. The cord wrapped around her neck, having to time my pushing so as not to cause her any additional problems. I had willed her to be OK. I had concentrated my mind so hard it made my head hurt. She would be OK. I didn’t realise until afterwards how common it was for a baby’s umbilical cord to become wrapped around its neck.
And I thought about when Michael had stopped breathing when he was only two years old. I had been at home alone with him. Neil was at work. I left him in his bouncy chair while I went into the kitchen to prepare his food. While I was doing it, something made me want to check on him.
His face was blue and his eyes bulging. There was no breath coming in or out of him at all.
My instincts kicked in. I picked him up, checked his throat, patted his back and prayed like hell. I switched into auto-pilot. It seemed like it took forever, but in a few seconds I had him breathing again. The hospital checked him over and he was fine. So I knew I had dealt with tough things, frightening things, in the past.
I focused back on the flannels. I was strong enough. I knew I was.
A breeze blew in through Michael’s bedroom window and rattled his blinds. I felt a chill on the back of my neck and instinctively turned around to look. There was nothing there. I closed the airing cupboard door and peeped around Michael’s bedroom door. The blinds vibrated in the breeze, motes of dust swirled off them and spun around his room. I made a mental note to clean his room while he was away.
I wondered whether I should shut his window. Then a noise made me jump.
It was only a dog. Barking in the distance, its bark distorted on the breeze and somehow enhanced as it passed through the vibrating blinds.
The fine hairs on my arms bristled. I felt once more like I was being watched. I turned again to look.
The dog-barking intensified. The gentle breeze from the window turned to a gust. It blew one of Michaels books off the window sill. I stepped into his room to pick it up and shut the window, but something stopped me just inside his doorway. Another noise.
But this wasn’t the dog or the rattling blind. It was much closer than that.
It came from downstairs, at one of the open windows.
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