(2013) Four Widows (30 page)

I expected to lie awake in the darkness, bedridden and trapped but a flash fever burned out insomnia and I fell into an exhausted sleep. At last, a cure for sleeplessness: 40-plus temperature. The heat hurt the back of my eyes.

I go to sleep; a deep unconsciousness washes over me. I rise to the surface whenever I dream I am drowning, which turns out to be huge soaking sweats. Cece drifts into the room, guiding me like a sleepwalker to the sofa at the foot of the bed while she changes sheets. She administers paracetamol with water, which I gulped down greedily.
Aspirin
, I almost whisper.
For the heart
.

Then I realise I don’t care. Do not resuscitate. Let me go.
Ab ovo
. When did Harrison look at Gee for the first time?

When I wasn’t sleeping, I sobbed uncontrollably into the pillows, crying more now than I ever did when Harrison died. I cried for my father. I cried for everything. So much so I saw tears in my dreams, washing away villages and towns. I had no idea where it was coming from; a large two-litre storage tank of tears in storage underneath my heart; continually filling and emptying over and over. The pain in my chest confirmed what I already knew; my heart was breaking over again.

Harrison. How did I miss the signs?

Jim would sit with me. I would pretend to be sleeping. This didn’t deter him from talking, though. He would go through the flatplan and swap pages around, asking my opinion. I still said nothing.

He had stepped up at work and covered for me without saying a single word to the team about what had happened. I was out of the office and the world goes on.

I grew used to darkness and its velvety texture wrapped around me; I found comfort. I had a routine going on that went something like: sob excessively, drink water, crash into comatose sleep buffeted in blackness. No desire to make changes.

Unfortunately, Cece had other ideas. One morning, she came into the room, as she does, bouncing off the door handle. Even with the covers over my head, the light hurt. I pressed fingers over my eyelids as she pulled up the blinds.

She announced, “It has been seven days.” Like this was significant. Seven years to become a different person–I had some way to go.

I turned over, facing away from the light.

“It’s time to get up, Lori. The girls are coming over and I’ve made breakfast. Cherry pastries. Coffee.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“No, I don’t think I can.”

“Half an hour. Then go back to bed.”

“It hurts too much.”

She rested a cool hand on my forehead. “I know.”

Seven days since I found out about Gee and Harrison. It felt as though I had been lost in the dark for a decade.

“Suzanne’s here?” I croaked.

Cece sounded emotional. “We all are.”

I shuffled into the room, wearing one of Cece’s vintage kimonos; its vibrant red contrasting with the pale puffiness of my face. I took small steps as though my feet were bandaged, each step exhausting.

Suzanne was first on her feet, reaching out to put her arms around me. Kate took one of my hands and squeezed while Cece stood behind me and rubbed the small of my back. Me in the middle. I couldn’t fall down.

I started crying again–couldn’t help it; salted tears that could erode rock. I put my hands over my face so the others wouldn’t see the mess. “I’m sorry,” I sniffed, barely coherent, while realising Suzanne was crying too.

Cece bundled tissues into our hands and steered me towards a chair. She was brisk and efficient, instructing Kate to pour coffee while Suzanne was ordered to slice pastries and pass them around on plates.

When I peeped over the tissues, one look at Kate’s face confirmed the state I was in. She handed me a mug of steaming coffee and I accepted obediently, taking small sips to placate Cece.

Suzanne spoke first. “I’m so sorry about the things I said. I needed to lash out. I was angry at Ted but I couldn’t fight with him. I was too scared to lose him again.”

I sat further back into the chair, relieved I was not expected to speak. It was like I had walked into the Art Bar for the first time; conversation continued around me.

“What I said was awful,” Suzanne continued.

Kate sighed. “What you said about me was true.”

I nodded. Suzanne had delivered harsh home truths.

The heat had broken–this change was heralded by a sharp crack of thunder and I saw clouds collecting.

“Can we open a window?” I asked.

Cece flung one wide so we could hear the rain hit the scalding-hot pavements. I inhaled the distinctive molten-wet smell and closed my eyes.

Suzanne repeated the apology. “I really am
truly
sorry. I wanted to get in touch before now but didn’t think anyone would want to speak to me. I was so ashamed. I behaved so badly. You were only trying to help.” She hung her head.

Cece moved closer and sat on the arm of her chair. “We rushed in, ambushed you.”

“When I heard about the little girl, I thought, you can hurt me; you’re not allowed to hurt a five year old. And Ted knows this too.”

Kate asked. “Did you tell him how hard it’s been?”

“He couldn’t believe I waited for him–”

“I bet,” muttered Cece. “Did he offer great explanations?”

Suzanne’s lip wobbled. “He wasn’t happy. And I didn’t notice. Everything got to him–the death of his parents, lack of work. I think he fell out of love with me.”

“Call me American,” said Cece gently, “but marriage counselling?”

Suzanne sniffed. “He’s not a talker.”

“Evidently.”

“Where did he go?” Kate wanted to know.

“He travelled north–worked on fishing boats then somehow ended up in Crieff where he met–” She couldn’t bring herself to say Sophia’s name. “I guess the longer he was gone, the harder it was… to… you know…”

Cece asked. “Then he just shows up?”

“He saw me in
Corset Magazine
. And read the interview.”

“He did?” I spoke, voice hoarse, feeling somewhat responsible.

“He said he was so sorry. So stupid–so very sorry.”

“Did you tell him you never gave up on him?” asked Kate.

“I didn’t need to. He knew.”

“Your life is better without him,” reassured Cece.

Suzanne shrugged. “I told him to leave because I didn’t know how to stop loving him. His daughter won’t know how to either.”

“He listened?” asked Cece, dubious.

“He’s gone back to Crieff.”

“You’re so brave,” said Kate, squeezing Suzanne’s hand.”

“It was the right decision,” replied Suzanne without hesitation. “But part of me thought…” she paused, shakily, “how easy it would be to keep him.”

“We know,” said Cece.

We know
, I thought.

“I’m okay. You know, I’d started to move on before Ted turned up. I’m glad about that. I’m head over heels about work. And even though Ted treated me badly, I’m happy that he’s alive.” She spoke through a handful of tissues. “I still think… it’s a miracle. It’s God’s work.”

Cece stood up to make more coffee. She looked at us, emotional. “It feels so
right
to be together again.”

Suzanne left her chair to kneel next to mine. “Cece told me what happened.” She gripped my hand. “There is nothing I can say to make you feel better other than we’re here. We always will be.”

I nod. Tears threaten. I want to speak. I can’t speak.

Kate cleared her throat and accepted a refill from Cece. “Suzanne, I’m so glad you’re okay but it doesn’t excuse my behaviour. I would have done better sorting out my own life.”

Suzanne put up her hand. “Please, don’t. I have nightmares over what I said about Neil.”

I clutched a handful of tissues and felt genuinely sorry for Suzanne. She looked acutely mortified.

“Through and through,” said Kate, intensely thoughtful. “The bullet passed through, leaving both entry and exit wounds. The police told me.”

We glanced at her. He Who Must Not Be Talked About.

“I couldn’t talk about it,” Kate continued, “because I didn’t stop it.”

Suzanne went very quiet by my side while Cece, who was just about to refill coffee cups, thought better of it.

“I’ve spent four years looking for clues, wondering
why
. I turned detective, I guess. I thought something sinister had happened. Bank details, corruption, extortion–I trawled through everything. Christ, at one point I thought he was a double agent.” She laughed weakly.

I shifted in my seat, stricken, but Kate didn’t notice, drawing her knees up to her chest. “The only clue I had was one throwaway line: he said
his head was full of mistakes
. Did he mean
I
was a mistake? Our
children
were mistakes?”

“Did you ask him what he meant at the time?” asked Suzanne.

“He said he needed to be more organised; said it meant nothing more than that.”

“He was depressed?” questioned Cece.

Kate shrugged. “I don’t think so. I don’t
know
. As I said, I poured over bank accounts, emails, anything that might help me but I found nothing. No answers.” She shook her head, frustrated. “Just one great blank.”

Suzanne’s forehead furrowed. “Did he take medication?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” She sipped her coffee carefully. “If anything, he was always so…
upbeat
…”

I hugged my coffee cup, knowing too well it is impossible to know someone completely. People are full of surprises.

“I’ve spent too long looking for signs, a reason, when, the truth is, he was a weak, inconsiderate man. That’s why I’m, or
was
, so angry. He had children who loved him. I loved him.”

We fell silent, which exacerbated the sound of rain bouncing off the windowsill, spraying into the room. Cece made no move to close it and I pictured people running into the street, deliberately getting soaked to the skin after the drought.

“Our tumble dryer was in the garage,” continued Kate, swallowing hard. “I emptied it and reloaded.”

We waited for her to go on.

“He was sitting in his car.”

Another interminable pause.

“I noticed the silence first, the same silence that comes with snow. I couldn’t hear traffic or… voices.” Her eyes focus on the wall behind my head, as though she were watching documentary footage of the tragic event.

“I turned and looked at the car and saw him, so still. I knew something
terrible
had happened. Isn’t that weird? Why would that be my first thought? But even as I opened the car door, I had hope. At first glance, there was just a little blood coming out of his ear.” She leaned forward, caught up in the memory. “It was only when I leaned further in that I saw considerably more blood, at the top of his shoulder, down his left arm. His head was tipped back and his face was pale but it wasn’t marked in any way; peaceful even. I grabbed a clean bath towel and tucked it around him; fussing.”

Raking her hand through her hair, she took a moment before continuing. “I didn’t see the handgun, even though it was right in front of me. Then it was there, so obviously
there
. I couldn’t believe it. I could
not
believe he would do something as
stupid
as this.”

Cece spoke. “I’m so sorry, Kate. No one should have to go through that.”

We watched two large tears slide down Kate’s face, symmetrical tears moving at the same speed. “It was right that I should find him,” she said. “It was meant to be. I looked at him for such long time; I couldn’t bear to say goodbye. Shutting the car door and leaving him, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

She straightened up in her chair, realigning her shoulders. “I kept it together, didn’t cry, went to pick up Ella and Jack from afternoon nursery and school. We never returned to the house and I never saw Neil again.”

“Kate, I’m so sorry,” I whispered. It was unbearable to hear her go over the details.

“Did he not know how much we loved him?” whispered Kate, crying harder now. “Somehow, did we not make that clear? I don’t understand why he didn’t tell me how desperate he had become. How
irrelevant
do you have to feel before you put a gun to your head?” She looked physically sick.

I heard Suzanne let out a stifled sob and it set me off. Then Cece started crying, too.

We all sobbed. Cece couldn’t find more tissues so handed out orange-print Orla Kiely tea towels for us to cry into. We sniffed and howled simultaneously.

Meanwhile, rain bounced. Jumping down drains and drumming off surfaces determined to make up for lost time. The peculiar heat persisted, though, unleashing streets of steaminess and warm muddiness into the atmosphere. Through tears and an open window behind Suzanne’s head, I see more steam rising and a wilderness covering much of the landscape.

Kate, eventually, spoke through her tears. “Actually, though, I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

She started laughing and I joined her. Suzanne looked unsure at first, then threw back her head and roared. Cece stared at us as though we’d all gone mad.

“Did I miss something?” she asked, pointedly.

No one could speak for laughing.

Cece couldn’t help but smile. “Y’all sillier than witchetty grubs in tequila.”

Suzanne threw a tea towel at her.

“I think Kate means she has moved on,” I said, unsure if I was laughing or crying.

“It’s true,” gasped Kate, sitting up straighter in her chair. “Fix up your wings, ladies. We’re moving on.”

Kate folded a tea towel precisely into four, smoothing down the edges. “You’ve all been so kind and patient with me when all I’ve been is angry and morose. Fraser Davies has been wonderful, too.”

“You just needed time,” reasoned Suzanne.

Kate sighed. “I just needed answers. And forgiveness. I was supposed to rescue him; find him and stop him pulling the trigger. That’s all I had to do.”

“You rescued Jack and Ella,” said Cece firmly. “You
never
fell apart. You’ve
always
been there for them.”

Suzanne and I nodded. Kate’s expression told us that she would take some convincing, but at least she looked happier.