by J. A. Baker
Too late. His hand sprang free from his pocket, his fingers slippery with perspiration. The phone remained hidden deep within his clothing. As if pushed by an invisible hand, he was propelled forwards, unable to control his own body movements, unable to stop the fall, his unwanted descent into a world of nothingness.
He didn’t feel anything. It was all too fast, his bid to stop his staggering movements all too late. The metallic screech of brakes as the train ground to an unplanned halt was a sickening sound, filling the emptiness of the station, reverberating and bouncing off the bare brick walls. The echo of death.
Afterwards, police scrutinising the footage simply saw a lone figure, a silhouette struggling at the edge of the platform before jumping close to the edge and tipping forwards into the path of the oncoming train. Nobody knew what was going through his head before the impact. But people guessed, incorrect theories were tossed about, lies told, stories made up to feed the frenzied masses. They thought they knew, were convinced of it. They knew nothing.
The funeral was a private affair. His family gathered in the church, heads bowed, tension rippling through them. Grief tearing them apart. It was their lowest point. They thought that Maria’s premature death then Lucy’s horrific demise was as bad as it could get; yet here they were again, in the same church, seated in the same pews, listening to yet another eulogy of a child who should be at home with his family, not lying cold and alone in a stiff oak casket.
His parents held hands, unable to think, unable to voice their grief, their terror at spending the remainder of their lives without their son. Another child lost.
They still had a daughter. A troubled daughter. But they clung onto the fact that they still had a child. She was difficult, damaged; yet still easy to love and hard to dislike despite all her issues and anger. She was theirs and always would be.
The boy’s father squeezed his wife’s hand. Just the three of them now. They would make it work. They had to. No choice now their boy was gone. The girl was all they had. She was their life, everything they ever wanted, even though they didn’t feel as if they were a part of hers. Soon she would come round, soften, her fury dissipating as time moved on. She couldn’t stay angry at them for forever, could she? At some point she would weaken, her hatred for them melting away to reveal her softer side. The part that used to love them.
It was time to start again, to forget the past, to move on, wipe away all the grime and rage that had festered for so long in their little family unit. It was all behind them. A new fresh wind was blowing through the cobwebs of their past and they had to embrace it or crumple under the strain.
They knew what choice they would make. All of their love would be directed towards their remaining child.
Whether she wanted it or not.
20
Present day
Leah is lying on her bed listening to Grainne screeching outside her door. It’s easier to pretend she can’t hear her. That’s the only way she can deal with it – by blocking it out. Pretending it isn’t happening is far less stressful than trying to dig herself out of the hole she has found herself in.
Grainne kicked her out three days ago. The backdated rent Grainne requested didn’t magically appear so she did some poking around and exposed Leah’s lies. Her quiet, middle-class landlady was quite the detective and confronted her over the purported death of her parents. Leah winced as she listened to Grainne’s outburst. Hearing her own terrible, desperate lies thrown back at her wasn’t the easiest thing to stomach. She had watched and waited, meekly handing over her keys as Grainne finished, her face flushed with the effort of being so angry, so completely out of control.
‘What sort of sick fuck would tell people her parents were dead when they’re still alive? What the hell is wrong with you, Leah?’ Grainne had shouted, her usual poise absent. For all she was prone to swearing and cursing, Grainne still had a way about her that exuded charm, precision and reserve. That had evaporated as soon as she discovered Leah’s lies. She insisted that Leah pack her belongings while Grainne stood over her, watching her throw a few measly items into a bag. Leah owned more things than she had realised, most of them unnecessary which made loading up her bag a lot easier. She only took what she needed and left the junk for Grainne to sort out. Served her right for being such a cold, calculating bitch.
Leah hadn’t intended to use the extra keys she had had cut to let herself back in the house, but sleeping rough was far worse than she ever anticipated. She spent the first night with an old acquaintance who offered her the sofa after Leah knocked on her door tousled and distraught. She and Daisy had worked together for a few years and occasionally kept in touch. They weren’t exactly friends but neither were they enemies. Daisy had a kind heart and even as she knocked at her door, Leah knew that Daisy would let her in. Telling her that she had had an argument with her boyfriend and just needed a warm bed and friendly face, Daisy had cocked her head compassionately, offered her sympathies and stepped aside to let Leah into her house.
The next morning, Daisy had explained that she was having family over to stay and had stood, watching Leah as she lay on the sofa, waiting for her response. That was her cue to go. Leah doubted the story about the family visit but wasn’t about to challenge her. The sofa had been appreciated and she left, thanking Daisy, insisting they meet up for a drink, knowing it would never happen. It was a weak platitude, a way of thanking Daisy for giving her a roof over her head on a cold wet evening.
The second night, she spent wandering around town, waiting for the sun to come up. Every shadow, every sharp movement of the local wildlife had had her nerves jangling, her brain screaming at her to move away. And so she had walked and walked and walked. That was the only way to stem her innate fear of being attacked while she slept, the only way to stop the lethargy from setting in. By the time it was light she had a blinding headache from lack of sleep and her mouth felt like somebody had tipped the contents of a dustbin into it. She washed in the local public toilets and swilled her mouth out with cold water.
Rummaging in the bottom of her bag, she had discovered a £20 note. Her stomach had flipped with excitement at such a lucky find. She bought herself a toothbrush and toothpaste, and managed to book a room in a hostel, shutting out all thoughts of what she would do once the tiny amount of money ran out.
The hostel smelt like a discarded old shoe and had a stream of undesirables trailing in and out at all hours. The room was £8 a night and the mattress felt and smelled like there was a decomposing body tucked inside it. Sharp lumps and bumps dug into her spine every time she turned over. But it was better than a park bench, better than wandering around the town in the darkness praying for daylight to break.
She knew the next morning after spending a night in a noisy, damp room that bordered on squalid, that she would use her key and let herself back into her old room. Grainne was at work. She could salt herself away, make as little noise as possible, be the soul of discretion. It was doubtful there was a new tenant living there in such a short space of time. All she needed was a few days until she sorted herself out, just a few days to get her problems fixed.
And now here she is, being abused and hollered at for simply wanting somewhere to sleep at night. Curling up on her side, Leah closes her eyes, squeezing them shut against Grainne’s constant haranguing. She places her hands over her ears and rocks backwards and forwards, unsure what to do next. Would Grainne really do something as drastic as removing the door and dragging her out into the street, or worse still, calling the police and having her arrested for trespassing? Somehow, Leah can’t see any of that happening. For all of her threats, appearances still matter to Grainne. She has boundaries and levels of decorum to maintain.
Unlike Leah, there are certain depths to which she refuses to stoop. They may not be friends but Leah knows Grainne, knows her standards of etiquette and social graces and screaming at people in the street and having the police call around to forcibly haul somebody out of her house isn’t s
omething she would do.
She continues to ignore the wall of noise, to slip into a state of unconsciousness where nothing and nobody matters or exists. Only darkness, a dense blanket of nothingness.
‘Do you blame yourself for what happened?’ She is in Will’s office, uncertain of how she got here but then, isn’t that always the case? Being on unsure ground is who she is lately. Her life is a see-saw, her mind unable to grasp the simplest of concepts. She oscillates from one thing to another with no idea of how the transition occurred. She is a traveller moving through time and space with no sense of direction, unconstrained by the usual binds.
Perhaps she is losing her mind? Perhaps in reality she is safely locked away in a mental health unit and this is her subconscious self, attempting to make sense of it all. The thought makes her shiver.
‘Sort of,’ she replies, her voice croaky as she finds herself opening up to ideas and thoughts that she has had locked down for so many months and years that allowing them to be free is like a physical blow to her body.
‘Okay, this is good. You’re making progress but we still have some way to go before you’re completely better.’ Will’s voice is gentle and comforting. For once she feels relaxed, not trapped in some sort of feverish state, worried that her life is about slip away from her and that she has to grip on to it with both hands so she doesn’t lose it. Opening up to this man suddenly feels like the right thing to do.
‘Ellis was only a teenager when he died. Far too young. It was beyond traumatic for my parents. They died along with him.’
‘They still had you though, didn’t they?’
Leah’s heart crawls up her throat. Why has he made that comment? It has so many connotations and possible meanings behind it. Then she remembers that he doesn’t know. Will has no idea about her secret, her dark rotten secret. The one she created herself that has her in its clutches, refusing to let her go.
She sighs, tries to stop the quiver in her fingers, hoping for the searing pain in her abdomen to subside. ‘I wasn’t the best daughter to them. Hardly a model child and not much better as an adult.’
Will nods as if he understands when Leah knows that he doesn’t. He can’t. How can he possibly understand what she is saying or understand how she functions as a person when she doesn’t even understand it herself?
‘I’m a bad daughter,’ Leah whispers, her throat closing with the effort of speaking. ‘A bad person all round. I say and do horrible things and I have no idea why.’
The air in the room is thick with anticipation; her flesh crawls and chills. This is who she is. Time to own up to it. No more hiding, no more pretending to be somebody she isn’t. Her mask is finally slipping to reveal the real Leah Browne underneath.
She looks over at Will who appears to be immersed in his own thoughts. Did he hear what she has just said? Is he even remotely interested in her admission or is this scenario just some sort of warped role play they go through to make her feel better? More tears gather. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to stop them from falling. Her efforts are useless. Hot tears cascade down her face as she speaks, warming up her cold flesh.
‘My brother took his own life and I’m to blame for it.’ She drags her gaze away from Will, suddenly too embarrassed to see his expression as she reveals what she did. ‘There was an accident. We were on holiday, having a picnic up on the clifftop and the daughter of my parents’ friends fell over the edge. I told everybody it was Ellis, my brother, who pushed her. I said he had shouted at her and that he did it deliberately.’ Leah wipes at her eyes with her sleeve, rubbing at her face fiercely with her fist. ‘Lucy was a little girl. Just a kid. A small helpless child and I told everybody that Ellis, my fifteen-year-old brother, had killed her.’
She is sobbing now, her face swollen and red, blotchy with remorse and humiliation. Will is a blur in her peripheral vision, his features indistinguishable amid the unrelenting flow of tears. She can’t stop. So many years of holding them back and now the floodgates have opened, she is drowning, struggling to stay afloat in her own tsunami of misery.
Leah stops, waiting for him to interject, to come out with something that will make her feel better, a pearl of wisdom designed to heal her gaping bleeding wounds, but he says nothing. His silence is worse than any words of retribution or anger or judgement. His silence says more than any words ever could.
She keeps her gaze fixed on the picture on his wall, knowing the next part of the story is the worst bit. As if anything could be worse than blaming her own brother for the death of a small child. But it is. It’s far worse and she doesn’t think she has the strength to even think about it let alone say it out loud. Instead, she sits, allowing herself to cry, allowing herself to feel regret and mortification at her actions instead of the hatred and resentment that has lived inside her for so many years. It’s exhausting being permanently angry. She feels a hundred years old after everything she has endured, after everything she has put her family through. Too late now, though. It’s all too late. Ellis is dead, Lucy is dead and she is the one who is responsible.
21
Leah had moved out of the family home at eighteen. Her mother and father didn’t want her to go. She was too young, too naïve to cope with the many trials and tribulations of the world. She had neither the ability nor the resilience to cope on her own. Chrissie and Ralph had begged her to stay but their daughter’s mind was made up. She had a decent brain and some good solid A-level results, but nothing else. And they couldn’t let her leave with nothing. They just couldn’t. They were her parents, she was their daughter, their baby. None of them deserved this outcome. They needed to soften it with something, make the move a little less painful. When they looked back at this moment, they wanted to be able to say that at least they tried.
On the day she left, they transferred £10,000 into her bank account. She never acknowledged receiving it, showing no gratitude, giving no words of thanks. But then, that was Leah all over. Not that they expected anything in return. Only her love, something she hid and displayed rarely. It gave them a small amount of comfort knowing that she had money enough to find somewhere to live. Chrissie and Ralph weren’t wealthy people, but they had savings for a rainy day and with only one child, no Maria or Ellis, they were in a position to assist her wherever possible.
As far as they were aware, she stayed local, finding a flat somewhere in Durham, only a few miles from where they lived. They hoped to see her from time to time but weren’t surprised when she didn’t show her face. She broke any dates they made with her for lunch or an evening meal at their house. That’s just how she was. Chrissie liked to believe it was because she was busy making a life for herself and was working or seeing friends. They could but hope.
Over ten years, they saw their daughter less than six times. Her final visit was the worst. Chrissie did her best to remain cheerful and upbeat despite it being the anniversary of Ellis’s death. It was just bad timing, that’s all it was. Leah had chosen to call around and see them uninvited. Not that she needed an invitation, but they simply weren’t prepared and Leah took their surprised expressions and dour mood as an insult and was immediately slighted. Chrissie and Ralph had been getting ready to go to the graveyard to see Maria.
Venturing out to the beach to see Ellis was out of the question. It was a blustery day; the tide was in and neither of them was getting any younger. The walk up to the top of the cliff to pay their respects would have proved too much. They had the memory of their son tucked deep in their souls and that was enough for them. He was never far from their thoughts and always in their hearts. Ellis would have understood their absence on that day of all days. He had always liked visiting Maria at the cemetery and they kept that in mind as they got ready to go.
Leah walked in just as they were buttoning up their coats and the look on her face said it all. The fact that they dared to consider leaving the house just as she had arrived was enough to turn her mood around. She made a barbed comment about never being made to f
eel welcome and the conversation pretty much descended into the gutter from that point onwards.
Chrissie had tried to talk Leah around, calm her down and assure her that she was always welcome but nothing she said seemed to help.
‘Do you know what?’ Leah had shouted. ‘I’ve spent my whole life on the sidelines of this family.’ An interloper in her own family was how she described herself even though it couldn’t be further from the truth.
Chrissie had tried to explain while Ralph had sat shaking his head, unable to take it in, wondering what they had done to deserve such venom and vitriol, wondering why their daughter hated them so much. There was no easy answer to that.
Leah always did have her own reasons, her own agenda. She danced to her own tune giving no thought to those around her. As a small girl it was one of her defining features and gave her a unique quality that people admired and found endearing, but as she grew older and became more resistant to change and to the ideas and thoughts of others, what began as a cute characteristic rapidly transformed into a stubborn streak that was increasingly difficult to deal with. And increasingly hard to forgive. Leah was anything but malleable.
‘She’s such a strong character,’ Chrissie would say to friends. ‘Somebody who knows her own mind, and that’s just the way we like her.’ But deep down they knew that their daughter was a difficult person with few friends.
That afternoon after many cross words, Leah stormed out, refusing to accept their explanations and requests for tolerance and forgiveness, and they didn’t see her again.
Chrissie had, on occasion, spoken to Ralph about going to visit her, but they had no forwarding address after she moved flats. She considered transferring more money over to her daughter in the vain hope it would soften Leah’s steely resolve but even that could have been taken as an insult. There was no knowing with her, no set rules. She was their daughter and they loved her, but she was an enigma and, most of the time, a complete stranger to them.