by K. L. Slater
The simple fact of the matter is that she doesn’t belong with him. She’s getting in the way and acting so selfishly.
Her two sons are just pawns in the game. Defenceless boys who are being dragged along against their will.
Someone has got to help those children. Even if one of them gets hurt in the process.
Collateral damage… that’s what they call it, isn’t it?
Twenty-Five
‘You’re like a different person,’ Steph says, watching me intently through narrowed eyes while I busy myself around the kitchen. ‘You laugh more, you look… I don’t know, brighter. Are you on a new vitamin supplement or something?’
Brenda nods encouragingly, and I laugh but feel a spike of nerves when I think about what I have to tell them both today: that I’ve been seeing someone and in fact am now in a full-blown serious relationship. Admitting that it’s the doctor who saved Kane’s life at the adventure park is just plain embarrassing.
Yet Steph is right. I am feeling much brighter and I do laugh more. I’ve started eating smaller portions and making healthier food choices, and as a result, I’ve lost five pounds. I’ve had my hair done and purchased a few new make-up items – a highlighter and a smoky eye pencil – and updated my look with the help of some YouTube ‘how to’ videos. Plus, I’ve found renewed enthusiasm for my yoga classes.
It’s not much, but it’s made a great deal of difference to my outlook. I keep catching myself thinking about the future in a positive light and it still feels like a novelty.
‘I just feel… better than I’ve done for a while,’ I say mildly.
‘Are you coping all right, Darcy?’ Brenda asks. ‘With the boys?’
‘Yes, Brenda,’ I reply shortly. ‘Oddly enough I am. Everything is fine.’
Brenda and Steph’s exchanged pointed glance doesn’t escape me but I ignore it.
I take the vegetable lasagne I made earlier out of the oven and place it next to a bowl of mixed salad. I carry a glass jug of sparkling water with ice and sliced lemon over to the kitchen table, too.
‘Well, this looks like a lovely, healthy lunch.’ Brenda beams as we take our seats. ‘It’s so nice to see you cooking again, Darcy. I’m glad you’re feeling a bit brighter; it’s been a long time coming.’
I glance at Brenda. Although she’s being friendly enough, her words sound a bit stilted, as if she’s over-thinking everything she says. They both seem slightly on edge.
When Joel was alive, cooking was my go-to activity. Not only for family necessity, but also as a way to wind down and relax. If I felt stressed, I’d make a batch of scones. If I wanted to take my mind off work, I’d bake a date and walnut loaf. Joel was always grateful and very complimentary about my culinary efforts, seeming to genuinely appreciate the effort I put in to creating every meal from scratch.
Brenda and Leonard would come over for tea at least twice a week when the boys were small, so she knows just how much I used to love cooking. But when Joel died, my enjoyment of it disappeared overnight – along with every other interest I had, come to think of it.
My nerves are jangling in my stomach now and the smell of the melted cheese from the steaming lasagne makes me feel a bit queasy. I don’t feel remotely hungry, but I sit down and gulp half my glass of water, though my mouth still feels dry.
I’ve had to make a real effort to get myself looking decent this morning. I’ve barely slept, rehearsing endless ways in my mind of broaching the issue. My relationship with George is getting serious; I really can’t put that fact off any longer.
‘You’ve got quite a thirst on.’ Steph points at my half-empty glass. ‘Want me to serve the lasagne?’
I smile and hand over the large spatula. She stands up and wields it above the earthenware dish.
‘It was a lovely surprise when you suggested lunch,’ Brenda says. ‘It seems a long time since we did this.’
It is a long time, I think a little guiltily. The three of us used to meet at Brenda’s house about once a fortnight and share a light lunch. But the closer I’ve grown to George, the less I’ve wanted to do that sort of thing, largely because I haven’t told them anything about my new relationship and it’s easier to keep shtum when I don’t have to see them. But also, since I’ve started to feel a little better about my life, their interfering nature has been harder to ignore.
Steph serves a large square of lasagne onto Brenda’s plate and I slide the salad bowl over to her.
Brenda clears her throat.
‘To be truthful, Darcy, I’ve been a little worried about you lately. You’re fine today, of course but you’ve seemed so quiet and withdrawn – not yourself at all. Goodness, we’ve barely seen anything of you.’
She and Steph glance at each other before a slab of lasagne appears on my plate. It’s true, I haven’t called on Brenda as much and Steph hasn’t had the boys at her house since the time I was supposed to have a word with her about watching what computer games they’re playing. I never did get around to that conversation.
‘On the plus side, you do look great!’ Steph remarks cheerfully. ‘You’ve lost weight, and your skin and hair are so healthy.’ She pauses. ‘Obviously benefitting from the extra time Mum and Dad have been looking after the boys.’
Irritation snatches at my throat at the obvious jibe. Things have changed for me, and I’ve taken a step back from Joel’s family to get a healthier balance. But Steph and Brenda are used to telling it like it is, passing uncensored comment on my appearance and my life. Doling out advice without being asked.
It used to be OK; I even used to think of it as them showing me affection, reasoning that they cared about me and were just trying to help. Treating me like one of the family. But now I want my door keys back and I want a bit of space between us, like normal families have. The trouble is, I can hardly just come out and say all that in one go.
First things first.
‘Cheers to our little get-together.’ Brenda regards me as she raises her glass of sparkling water and takes a sip. ‘This lunch is very well timed, actually. I want to run possible desserts for Christmas past you both. I’m thinking of getting one of those posh Christmassy creations from Marks and Spencer. The boys will like that.’
I take a sip of my own drink and the bubbles feel like razor blades when I swallow. I take a breath and begin to speak before she can hijack the discussion with her Christmas lunch plans.
‘It’s brilliant to get together again, but I asked you here because there’s something I want to tell you.’ My voice comes out bolder than I intended, and both Steph and Brenda look up in mild alarm.
‘Is everything all right?’ Steph ventures. ‘Are the boys—’
‘The boys are fine.’ I say from behind gritted teeth.
‘Darcy, what is it?’ Brenda says faintly. ‘You’re not… ill again, are you?’
‘No. I’m not ill, it’s nothing like that.’ I put down my fork and clear my throat. ‘I wanted to let you know that I’ve met someone. I’m… well, I’ve been seeing someone. For a while now.’
Twenty-Six
My words echo in my ears, bouncing off the walls with nowhere to land. Brenda’s mouth drops open and she stares at Steph.
‘But you told me you weren’t remotely interested in dating!’ Steph exclaims.
‘Things change,’ I say gently. ‘It wasn’t planned.’
‘Is this relationship serious?’ Brenda asks nervously, as if she can’t handle an affirmative reply.
‘How long have you been dating?’ Steph demands before I can answer.
A flare of resentment burns inside my chest. Why do I feel as if I’m talking to my big sister and my mother? I only wish I had got my own family to confide in then I wouldn’t have had to rely on them so much.
‘I’ve been seeing him a few weeks, that’s all. And yes, I’d say it’s quite serious.’
I take another gulp of water so I don’t have to look at Steph’s horrified expression.
‘And does he h
ave a name, this boyfriend of yours?’ Brenda presses me.
‘His name is George.’
‘George,’ she repeats thoughtfully. ‘Where did you meet him?’
I open my mouth and close it again. I didn’t expect the Spanish Inquisition. I knew they’d be taken aback, but I feel like I’m fighting them off. It’s ridiculous.
‘I didn’t meet him online, if that’s what you were thinking.’ Every time Brenda reads a story in the news about someone who’s come to a nasty end at the hands of a psychopath she’s met online, she calls me and reads it out like a cautionary tale.
I see realisation dawn on Steph’s face.
She snorts. ‘Don’t tell me… it’s not George the doctor, from the play park?’
‘As a matter of fact, yes. It’s George the doctor.’ I press my fingers down on the table and keep my voice calm and level. Inside, my innards feel like a churning stew, and I can feel my face burning.
‘Who is George the doctor?’ Brenda frowns, completely lost now.
‘You remember, Mum, he treated Kane at the park when he had his asthma attack.’ Steph doesn’t take her eyes off me as she speaks. ‘Darcy was embarrassingly smitten by him from the moment she saw him.’
I let out a high-pitched laugh, but she’s hit a nerve. ‘I was very grateful to him, if that’s what you mean.’
I wish I could make my own voice a little frostier when Steph barks out a question, but every time I try, a slew of moving pictures fills my mind: Brenda comforting me at the hospital on the day Joel died; Steph postponing going out with her friends after work so she could mind the boys while I pulled the blankets over my head and hid away from the world.
These two women have been my rock when I needed them, but inadvertently over the past few years I’ve given them the impression they have the right to exert control over my life and influence the decisions I make.
I find myself wishing they’d just finish their lunch and go home. But I’m in waist deep now, I might as well get it over with now their hackles are up.
‘He’s a surgeon at the City Hospital, Brenda, and he lives in Papplewick village.’ I’m babbling, trying to make amends for my uncharitable thoughts. ‘I think you’ll both really like him.’
Papplewick is an affluent village and is actually located close to Ravenshead, where Brenda and Leonard live, but I doubt that’s any comfort.
‘And have the boys met this George?’ Brenda says his name like it’s a tricky word she’s never pronounced before. ‘I mean, other than that day at the park?’
I nod. ‘And they’ve met his little girl, Romy, too. She’s the same age as Kane.’
‘But they never mentioned anything about meeting your new boyfriend when I saw them yesterday.’ Brenda raises an eyebrow.
‘I didn’t introduce him as my boyfriend per se,’ I mumble. ‘I just said he was my friend.’
‘I see.’ Steph’s voice is thick with judgement. ‘You’ve decided not to tell them the truth, then? Because if there’s one thing we need to be absolutely clear on, it’s that the boys’ wellbeing is not negotiable. They’ve had enough upheaval as it is when Mum and Dad had to take them in to save them from foster care.’
I release my fork onto my plate with a clatter. ‘I invited you here to tell you because I care about you both and I’ve hated keeping this from you. But I can do without the sarcasm, Steph, and I resent you implying I’d do anything that was detrimental to my sons.’
‘Well, it’s very good of you to come clean to us.’ She turns on me, her eyes sparking. ‘But I’m just wondering how many times Mum or I have put ourselves out to look after the boys when you’re “busy” or “stressed”, and actually you’ve just been out with your fancy man… your surgeon.’
‘Steph!’ Brenda reprimands her. ‘No need for that.’
‘We’re idiots, though, Mum. I told you she’s been acting weird for ages now.’
‘I don’t need your permission to date, Steph, and much as I value what you’ve all done for me, I’m not your responsibility.’ As I say the words, I feel an unexpected rush of relief that spurs me on. ‘I have every right to start a relationship without asking for your permission.’
‘I thought we were friends!’ Steph snarls. ‘We’ve always talked about everything together, like sisters. But now you’ve obviously had your use out of me and Mum and have managed to get yourself into a full-blown relationship without saying a word to us.’
‘It wasn’t like that. I—’
‘You’re entitled to a personal life, Darcy,’ Brenda says kindly. ‘No need to apologise for that.’
‘Not while we’re putting our own lives on hold to mind her kids she’s not!’
I glance at Steph and see that her eyes are blazing, full of disapproval. I’ve felt nervous about telling her today – I knew she wouldn’t like it – but I didn’t expect such a vitriolic reaction. It’s shocked me to the core.
‘Let’s just all calm down a bit, shall we?’ Brenda gives Steph a hard stare and then turns her gaze to me. ‘If you’ve found someone you can be happy with, then I’m pleased for you, Darcy. But – and I have to ask this – do you feel well enough to deal with a new relationship yet?’
Here we go again!
‘I feel fine. I’ve never felt better.’
Brenda smiles; patronisingly, I feel.
‘Let me rephrase, Darcy, dear. I’m not just talking about your breakdown. You had some confusion after Joel died, we know that. It’s been difficult for you to accept certain things, and I understand. We all understand.’
I’m close to boiling point, but I force myself to speak slowly and clearly. I’m not going to give her the chance to say I’m unhinged.
‘There’s no confusion, and I’m not ill any more, Brenda. Joel betrayed me and lied to me and I was very, very upset about that. Still am.’
‘I’ve got news for you: you weren’t the only one,’ Steph says.
I ignore her.
Brenda smiles tightly. ‘If that’s how you’ve chosen to reframe it, Darcy, then—’
I bite down on my back teeth and pull air in through my nose. I can’t let them get to me like this. ‘All that has no bearing on my relationship with George, and that’s why I wanted to tell you about him today. I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t know if it would come to anything but… well, we’re close. Our relationship has become serious quite quickly.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Steph murmurs slyly.
Brenda’s sudden maudlin expression, the sad cast to her vacant stare, pulls at my heartstrings and my anger evaporates. This bickering is doing none of us any good. It’s obvious she must be thinking about Joel and the fact I’m moving on. And I understand that, to a degree, the fact that I’m dating someone else might feel like a betrayal of Joel’s memory.
Then she surprises me.
‘Darcy, I wonder if… Would it be possible for me and Len to meet George?’ she asks tentatively, ignoring Steph’s thunderous glare. ‘It would be nice to get to know him, if he’s to be part of yours and the boys’ lives.’
‘Of course, I’d love that.’ I’m touched by her request. It doesn’t feel like she is asking to approve my choice of boyfriend; she sounds more concerned with staying part of our lives, and that’s completely natural. The boys are her only link to Joel now. ‘We’ll sort out a time we can all get together. You and Dave too, if you like, Steph.’ I feel the tendons in my neck give a little as it seems we’ve all come to a bit of an understanding at last. ‘Now, shall we tuck into our lunch?’
‘No thanks.’ Steph pushes her plate away. ‘Strangely, I don’t feel hungry any more.’
Twenty-Seven
1995
A week after stealing the book, he had read through it, digested its grim content five or six times.
Entitled The Suicide Diaries, the book spoke to him. Its stories and descriptions filled his mind, had this way of making him feel less alone… there were other people who felt this way, people who
felt as wretched as he did!
Even when he wasn’t reading it, somehow it seemed to soak up all the available space in his head. He barely noticed his classmates’ sniggers now, the way they turned their backs when he walked by and sometimes lingered, hoping, on occasion, to join in with a conversation or two. The way he felt so completely and utterly alone.
Since the accident, as he’d come to conveniently think of it, he’d been unable to sleep more than an hour or two before waking in the early hours bathed in sweat, his heart pounding. His clothes all hung from his newly skinny frame – which he’d disguised thus far with the use of belts and baggy shirts and sweaters.
Worst of all was the lack of interest in everything he used to enjoy. Watching sport on television with his father was one of the rare occasions they spent any time together on his weekend visits home but eventually, after numerous excuses, his father had now stopped asking.
He couldn’t get excited about anything any more. He’d wondered endlessly what was wrong with him. He hadn’t a clue… until he read the stolen book.
Then, and only then, did he realise he was not alone and moreover, he controlled his own destiny.
The book taught him that many people secretly felt this way. He had arrived at the swift realisation that there was, in fact, a way out his living hell after all.
One Friday evening, just minutes after he’d arrived home for one of his short visits, he mustered the courage to tap on the door of his father’s office.
There was a brief silent pause before his father bellowed, ‘What is it?’
He opened the door a crack, enough to crane his head around.
‘Sorry to interrupt you but… I wondered if I could borrow your library card?’
The furrows in his father’s forehead dissolved.
‘Oh, is that all?’ He opened his desk drawer, dug around and brought out what looked like a plastic credit card. ‘Interested in reading now, are you? A late developer, huh?’