Two Years After ; Friends Who Lie ; No More Secrets

by Paul J. Teague

  It felt like Vera was only gone for a matter of seconds, but as she focused on the digital clock on her bedside table, Rosie saw that she’d been on her own for an hour or more. And if Vera thought she was up to getting out of bed, she was badly mistaken. It was as much as she could do to open her eyes.

  Vera was gone again. But there was a movement in the room. Rosie tried to prise her eyes open. She’d had a lovely dream, that she was a little girl and she and her mother were cooking. She wanted to be back there, at a happy time, away from the realities of the present.

  Someone was touching her leg. Was she being bed-bathed? The drugs had kicked in. She couldn’t fight the tiredness. But somebody was running their hand up her bare legs. They were smooth hands, a woman’s perhaps. And she couldn’t move her mouth to ask them to stop.

  She woke again, not sure how long afterwards. She couldn’t even see who it was. They were stroking her hair. Who was stroking her hair? Nobody would do that except Liam, and he was dead. She shut out the thought and forced the darkness away from her mind, drifting off again.

  Where was Vera? She wanted Vera back. Who was this person in the room? If only she could wake up properly.

  Rosie heard Vera’s voice along the corridor, attending to the patient in the next room. She didn’t even know her neighbour’s name yet, and she didn’t care. Just getting through the day was enough to cope with.

  The person who was with her in the room tensed when Vera’s voice became audible, as she made her way back. Were they even supposed to be there? Through the haze of oblivion, Rosie’s heart quickened. What if this person meant her harm? She couldn’t move, couldn’t even cry out. As she faded back into nothingness, she sensed the person moving towards the door. They were speaking, but the words were distorted in her head, echoing around her mind so that wasn’t even sure whether she’d imagined it.

  ‘I’ll be back, Rosie. We’re not done yet. I like it when you’re all mine. I like it when we’re alone, and I can do what I want to you.’

  Chapter One

  She’d had better days. Her only consolation was that she’d also experienced much worse – terrible, dark, frightening days. And lots of them.

  Sam appeared to have saved up every bit of toddler bad behaviour possible just for that morning. Her first day back at work in two years. Two years! It seemed incredible.

  Rosie looked at the checklist she’d prepared the day before to help her dad manage everything. Potty – snacks – wipes – toys – emergency contact numbers. She was sure it was all there. They were blundering through this together, but at least she only had to survive for two days that week. Thank goodness her first day back was on a Thursday.

  She took a glass from the worktop and half-filled it with water, then fumbled around inside her bag until she found the box she was looking for. Duloxetine, the only thing that would get her through the door of that high-rise office and past the first day.

  She gulped down her pill and added a couple of Ibuprofen to the mix. There was no way she’d get through the day without the usual cocktail of drugs that she’d relied on since the accident to dull the pain. She barely knew what she was mixing any more, but there’d be plenty of time to wean herself off them.

  Sam threw his half-gnarled banana on the floor and began to scream at her, as if he could sense what she was feeling inside. If she could have taken all her fear, anxiety, depression and sadness and rolled it into one human being, it would have looked like Sam at that very moment.

  There was a knock at the door. Her poor dad, sacrificing his retirement for a seven o’clock start. She handed Sam his non-spill beaker and rushed to the door.

  ‘Hi Dad!’ she said, moving in to give him a hug. He’d always been such a strong man, but he felt so thin these days.

  ‘How are you, Rosie? Up for the challenge of the day?’

  She shrugged. He knew she wasn’t ready for it; they both did. But what choice did they have? Her father could only just manage his rent on a state pension and she’d pushed her own finances as far as they would go. Everything had run out, including her maternity pay. If only she’d got some compensation from the accident. But no, she was on her own and she had to work.

  ‘I’m sorry to drag you out so early, Dad. But I want to go and see Liam before I go into work. It’ll make me feel better, what with it being such a big day.’

  Iain Campbell reached out and squeezed her arm gently, as he had done so many times since the crash. He didn’t look so good either. They were both hanging on by a thread.

  ‘Hi Sammy!’ he beamed as he walked into the kitchen. Sam’s face lit up immediately, delighted to see his grandad. Rosie tried not to notice her son’s preference. There were too many other lacerations across her heart that needed to heal before she could tackle her problems with Sam. One day at a time, that was the best way.

  ‘Everything ready to go?’ Iain asked.

  ‘I’ve gone through the checklist five times,’ Rosie replied, more defensively than she’d intended. ‘If those tossers from social care can’t see that I’m better now, I’ll scream. There are thousands of kids all over the country being neglected, yet they did that to me. I’d never harm Sammy; they should know that.’

  She choked up, and Iain moved in to give her a hug.

  ‘Nobody is questioning whether you’re a good mother,’ he said gently. ‘They’re just – well, it’s just a precaution, while you fully recover. It’s been a tough couple of years. You’re nearly there, Rosie. And it’s this little one’s second birthday on Saturday. That’s something to look forward to, isn’t it?’

  Sam gave a squeal of delight. Rosie pulled herself away from her father and looked him in the face.

  ‘Thanks, Dad. I mean it. Thank you. I don’t know what I’d have done without you. Sometimes I feel like I’m going mad, but you’re the reason I’m still here.’

  ‘Don’t say that, Rosie. You have so much to live for. You’ll see. I know it’s hard. I felt like that when your mother died. You’ll get through it, Rosie; honestly, you will. Just keep going, you’re nearly there.’

  Rosie kissed him on the cheek and walked over to Sam. She knelt down by the highchair and forced a smile.

  ‘See you later, Sam, be good for Grandad!’

  She put on her coat, picked up her bag and gave them both a wave.

  ‘Back by six,’ she said. ‘Unless the tube goes into meltdown, in which case, it may be days.’

  Iain smiled, and she was pleased that she’d managed to squeeze out a flippant comment as they parted. It was the best she could do to put his mind at ease.

  It may have been two years since she’d done this, but now she was dressed for work, her old bag packed for the day, it felt like it was only yesterday. If only it had been Liam sending her off to work.

  It was only ten tube stops up the line from Lewisham, not bad for a London commute. She’d visit Liam at Greenwich, then hop back on the train and be at the office for a prompt nine o’clock start.

  Haylee had sent her all the gossip since the buyout. A new HR guy had arrived, bringing brand new systems and processes for them all to learn. At least she was on a phased return, and they’d cut her some slack.

  She was lucky that David Willis had been asked to stay with the firm for a year to see through the handover. He’d fought hard for her extended sick pay, while the new personnel department had been gunning for her from day one. If it wasn’t for David, she’d have been out on her arse long before she could even contemplate a return to the workplace.

  The tube seemed to have got worse. Last time she did this, it was busy but bearable at 7.15, but today she almost missed getting a seat. She still got so damn tired. Perhaps it was her medication.

  Rosie got off at her stop and grabbed a coffee. At least she’d made one good decision, choosing to have Liam and Phoebe buried in the same cemetery as her mum. It worked well, three stops away and easy with the pushchair when she didn’t have to navigate rush hours. She’d spent more
time speaking to Liam than she should have. The key to recovery would lie in moving on, but she still needed him; she wasn’t ready to do it all on her own just yet.

  Rosie knew she shouldn’t have used the first entrance the moment she walked through it, but she couldn’t help herself; she had to force herself to see Phoebe. The tiny gravestones – fashioned into the forms of teddy bears and child-like angels – were surrounded with fresh flowers, soft toys and balloons.

  What would her daughter have been like if she’d made it alive out of that wreckage instead of Sam? She still had no words for her dead child, the overwhelming surges of grief leaving her cold and numb. Rosie wanted to cry forever for the baby she’d lost, but there were no tears left.

  She moved on, walking up the narrow asphalt path towards Liam’s headstone. It wasn’t right that father and daughter weren’t buried together, but she’d been too out of her head on medication at the time to fight for it.

  ‘Hi, Liam,’ she whispered as she arrived at his headstone. Although the cemetery was vast, she could pinpoint his grave like a finely tuned GPS.

  ‘Back to work today. It’s been two years already – can you believe that? Wish me luck. It’s going to be a difficult day.’

  As she knelt down to adjust the flowers that she’d left there the previous weekend, Rosie realised that something wasn’t quite right. It took her a moment to spot it. She’d had a small, circular plate added to the headstone, onto which a photo of Liam had been printed. They’d seen it done abroad, and it was something they’d both liked. It seemed to humanise the graves a little.

  Liam’s plate had been torn off the headstone. It took her two minutes to locate it. It had been cast aside, thrown into a cluster of shrubs nearby.

  ‘Bloody vandals,’ Rosie cursed. But as she looked around at the other graves, she realised the only stone they appeared to have defaced was Liam’s.

  Chapter Two

  As Rosie ascended towards the thirteenth floor, she wondered if David still had the goatee. Apparently, he’d visited her in the psychiatric unit, but after a while, they’d all stopped coming. The nurses had said it didn’t seem to be helping her. She never acknowledged any of them anyway, not in those first days.

  She couldn’t remember any of their visits and hoped that she hadn’t done anything too embarrassing. Surely they’d forgive her; she was a sedated mess at Liam’s funeral, so what did they expect?

  It felt like no time at all since she’d made that journey. She’d worked at the company for over five years at the time of the accident and she was happy there, with her life set out before her. They had had their lives set out.

  Rosie watched the numbers in the elevator as it headed towards her floor. It was always the same: floor thirteen was too high to take the stairs, but with the endless stopping and starting at that time of day, it could take up to ten minutes just to get through the front door of the office.

  The lift doors slid open, and she walked out onto her floor. So much had changed, even in that short time. The tech company opposite their offices had closed, and the unit was empty. As she looked through the windows into the office space, she saw a cubic capacity that would make a commercial lettings agent get a stirring in their pants. But with business rates so punishing, minimum wages increasing and worker rights ever-growing, it was becoming almost impossible to exploit a workforce like you could in the good old days.

  And so, businesses like Cutting Edge Cyber Ltd had to close, no doubt reincarnating as online services either based in a cheaper home office set-up or recruiting remote staff in a region of the world where you could still employ graduates for peanuts.

  At either side of Willis Supplies Ltd were two smaller concerns. WonderDeals Insurance brokers had always been there, at least ever since Rosie started working in the building. Insurance brokers were like cockroaches, and they still refused to die in spite of the competition from web-based providers. The first year she’d worked in the building, she insured her own vehicle there; later, she switched to the fast deals of the internet. Had she stayed with a broker, Rosie might have been a little more on top of the paperwork.

  On the opposite side of the hallway was a second new business. This was some laser eye surgery establishment, sleek and hi-tech. What might have been more useful this high up was a sandwich shop, but they tended not to locate themselves in high-rise buildings in the middle of London’s commercial centre.

  She turned towards the entrance of Willis Supplies Ltd. The sign had been replaced by something that looked like it had been through the hands of several expensive brand managers. Silverline Supply Chains. That was her new employer. Even though she reported to David Willis – for the time being, at least – her salary slips had displayed the new logo for the past five months. With David still at the helm, it would just be the decor that had changed, surely?

  Rosie pushed through the glass door and walked into reception. There was an immediate corporate feel, the air conditioning was immediately refreshing, and Haylee Madison looked like she was on the set of a US legal drama. Her eyes lit up when she saw who it was.

  ‘Rosie!’

  She jumped up from behind her desk, came out from her console and gave Rosie a big hug.

  ‘David said you were back today. It’s so good to see you. Are you okay now? You’ve been away so long.’

  Rosie was prepared for this. Those first awkward moments. At least she only had Thursday and Friday to get through. Once all the initial nonsense was out of the way, it would all settle down, so long as she could make it through the first two days. That was her first target.

  ‘David told me to send you straight in; he wants to be first to see you. I’ll buzz him now, let him know you’re on your way. Everything’s changed since you left, Rosie. Hopefully, it’ll all feel like normal now you’re back.’

  Rosie gave as much of a smile as she could muster and walked along the corridor towards David’s office. The artwork had changed. David had a love of Jack Vettriano, claiming it was accessible and had a general appeal. Those beloved prints had now been removed in favour of what was obviously a corporate artwork service. There was a non-committal range of contemporary and classic artists, something for all tastes. Silverline Supply Chains were tinkering with David’s successful formula; she wondered how that made him feel.

  Rosie was grateful that she’d arrived during the morning briefing. It allowed her to sneak into David’s office undercover, without being hijacked the moment she stepped through the door. A male voice was coming from the boardroom along the corridor. She turned off towards David’s office and moved her hand to knock on the door. She stopped mid-movement. David’s nameplate was gone, replaced by a new, highly polished, brass fitting: Edward Logan, HR Director.

  Rosie felt immediately disoriented. She ran through the office arrangements in her head. Where would David be now? He had to be in the corner office; it was the only other room that would suit somebody of his status within the company. That was the office he’d earmarked for her at Gina’s leaving party.

  She retraced her steps and found the corner office door; she’d walked straight past it on her way down. David’s nameplate was still the original, plastic version; it was attached to the door with sticky tabs like it didn’t intend on hanging around too long. She knocked at the door.

  ‘Come in!’

  David was out of his seat the moment he saw her walking through the door. He looked genuinely pleased to see her. She wished she could elicit the same response from her son.

  ‘It’s so good to have you back, Rosie,’ David said, hugging her as if every bone in his body meant it. ‘Take a seat; we’ve got a lot to catch up on.’

  She sat down and admired the view of the city.

  ‘So, how are you?’ David asked, settling back into the high-backed leather seat, fortified behind his old, oak desk. The picture of his wife was no longer there. Another person taken by cancer. Had David moved on? Maybe that’s what removing Maisie’s photo had been all
about.

  ‘No family pictures allowed now,’ David said as if reading her mind. ‘Maisie has to remain a figment of my memory, in the office at least. Silverline Supply Chains doesn’t care if you have loved ones – you’re here to do a day’s work, not get all teary-eyed about your deceased wife.’

  Rosie looked at him, searching to see if this was a joke.

  ‘I’m sorry, that’s a bit dark for your first day,’ he said with a grin. ‘It’s just that there have been a few changes around here. It’s not the company I set up. My golden handcuffs come off in five months, then I’m gone. See, they haven’t banned desk calendars yet!’

  He held up a calendar on which his departure day was marked with a big, red circle.

  ‘Anyway, enough of my gripes, it’s your first day back. Welcome. I can’t tell you how much everybody is looking forward to seeing you. There are a few new faces to get used to, of course. But enough of the old guard to make the place still feel like home.

  ‘David, I want to thank you for what you did…’

  He raised his hand to stop her.

  ‘I won’t hear anything about it,’ he said. ‘You know how much I value you as an employee. It’s done now, and it was my pleasure.’

  ‘I mean it, David,’ she pushed. ‘Two years of financial support from the company, even at a reduced rate. I couldn’t have done it without your help. Thank you.’

  ‘Well, Edward Logan soon put a stop to that, didn’t he?’ David grumbled. ‘The man has left no stone unturned in his relentless search for efficiencies and cost savings. I’m sorry that we had to pull the rug out from beneath your feet. I just hope it wasn’t too soon?’

  David Willis was old-school. He’d built up the business as a young man, he and Maisie balancing a family with a fast-expanding supply chain company. Shipping containers were his thing. He’d started with one and was now responsible for hundreds of the things, moving to destinations all over the planet. Some feat for a man who had passed no exams and had spent his life at school being called thick. It was the term they used instead of learning difficulties in the sixties and seventies.