Another Love (17 page)

‘Then why do you do it?’ she asked, softly.

Jasper placed his juice on the table and folded his hands in his lap. ‘It’s the only thing my parents understand, sending me away. It makes them feel better to be doing something and then when it doesn’t work, they feel less guilty because at least they tried something. And they get even angrier with me because of how much they’re spending, but it’s just a clever ruse, they say that’s what they’re angry about, the cost, the futility, but really they’re angry because I killed their son. So it serves a purpose. And I understand. I do. They don’t really keep track of where I’ve been and for how long, but you get my point.’

He thumbed his nose and reached for his juice with a shaking hand. ‘I guess it’s a routine that’s familiar for me too. When I was eight I was sent away to boarding school and then after the accident I was sent to live with my gran up in Scotland, then when I failed to get any A-levels, despite a very expensive education, they sent me to work in an orphanage in Africa and then when I came back and started serious boozing, they started sending me to rehab. My mum likes to read about places on the internet that offer fabulous cures, the more innovative the better, and she sends my dad the link and he books them there and then.’

‘Do you work?’

Jasper shook his head. ‘No, I’m too busy marching up and down the Sierra Nevada looking for a decent bloody hotel!’ And just like that, they were back to joking.

‘Do you work, Red?’

‘Yes. I’m an entomologist.’

‘What’s that? Is it something to do with mummies and the Sphinx?’

‘No, that’s an Egyptologist! Quite different.’

He flashed her a smile that told her he knew very well what the difference was. His expensive education clearly hadn’t been entirely wasted.

‘I work for a biopharmaceutical company, but I’m on leave at the moment.’ She nodded. ‘I don’t know when I’ll be going back. Everything is a little hazy in terms of dates and milestones and I think that’s the thing I find hardest. If I knew I had to go through this for x number of days but would feel better by y, then I could hack it; it’s the uncertainty, the vagueness that I struggle with.’

‘Because you’re a scientist. You deal in facts, data.’

‘Exactly!’

He laughed. ‘Well, I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you, but that’s pretty much the only certainty you have as an alcoholic: the uncertainty. That horrible feeling that you never quite know what tomorrow is going to look like, no matter how determined you are when you fall asleep.’

‘I’m not an alcoholic.’ She realised she had said it out loud. Pausing, she looked at Jasper, who smiled and once again gathered his juice into his hand.

‘I tell you what, Red. I’ve seen a few in my time and you do a fucking good impression of one.’ He shook his head as he sipped at the mashed beetroot.

The morning Dad told me we were going to visit Mum was the first time it even occurred to me that she might be ill. I’d lived for weeks with my stomach bunched into a tiny ball, imagining all sorts. At first I genuinely believed she was working away. But then I’d hear Dad whispering into the phone, too quietly for me to get what he was saying but loud enough to know it was secret. I knew there was something terrible going on. I’d crawl into the gap under my bed, staring into the dark, too scared to even move, trying to guess what was happening and watching the tiny alien mayflies crawl up and down the mattress over my head.

My main thought was that they were giving me away and didn’t know how to tell me. Mum had gone to get the people they were giving me to, while Dad was quietly making the plans. Whenever Dad was extra nice to me, I thought it was because my departure was imminent. I used to lie ramrod straight in the gap, close my eyes and promise to keep my room tidy and to try and eat broccoli and not to be so noisy; anything just as long as I could stay.

So it was quite a relief when Dad told me where we were heading. I’d been waiting for him to say ‘Get in the car’ and I held my breath, expecting to hear where my new family was and where he was taking me. When he told me we were going to visit Mum and that she was in a kind of hospital, I laughed out loud. But then I started to run through a list of reasons why she might be sick. Did she still have all her limbs? Would she recognise me? I bit my nails right down and tried to stop the squirm in my tummy that made me feel sick.

‘She’s really looking forward to seeing you.’ Dad smiled.

‘Has she still got all her arms and legs?’ I asked.

A little confused crease appeared at the top of his nose and then he smiled again and stroked my hair. ‘Her illness isn’t anything to do with her arms and legs. It’s a bit more complicated than that, but I promise she’ll be feeling a lot better, a lot calmer and kinder.’

I held onto his every word like it was a promise. It was the first time I’d been introduced to the concept that Mum might be ill and wasn’t just being mean to me. I thought about the time I crept up behind her in the kitchen, she was standing by the sink and I planned on giving her a hug, but as I reached up to touch her, she turned around and yelled. The dark green bottle in her hand smashed down in the sink and I heard the glugging sound as something that smelled like perfume trickled down the sink. She screamed, her eyes flashing and she shouted at me, ‘for fuck’s sake! All I want is five minutes peace alone, that’s all just five fucking minutes!’ I think that was when I started to think that maybe her life would be better if I wasn’t in the house at all. I hadn’t meant to make her jump or make her spill her drink. So dad’s insight was helpful. It made it easier, in some ways, like she hadn’t chosen to be horrible or to leave me.

I don’t remember much about the place she was in, except for the way it smelt, like synthetic lemon. It reminded me of air freshener. Everywhere was clinical, shiny and white. I know she was pleased to see me. I remember her hugging me too tightly and I wanted her to let go. It felt like the time when Aunty Sara trapped me in the fort made of cushions. It felt like suffocating.

‘Are you warm enough?’ His tone was overly formal as he turned the dial from blue to red on the dashboard.

‘I’m fine.’ She hated the stilted awkwardness that sat between them like a sheet of glass, making them strangers.

‘Celeste has made you a gift. It’s a jewellery box, I think.’ He smiled at the road ahead. ‘But be warned, when I left, she and my mum were trying to figure out how to disguise the big hole in the middle. I suggested she fill it with jewels, but she wanted to put a candle in the middle, so God only knows what you’re going to walk into. You might want to practise your delighted face.’

‘I don’t have to practise it,’ she said, affronted. ‘I’ll be delighted just to see her, hold her. I’ve missed her so much.’

‘Of course.’ He coloured in apology.

‘I know it’s only been four weeks, but it feels like a lot longer. It’s so isolated there, it makes you feel removed from the real world.’

‘I suppose that’s the idea.’

‘Yes. Probably.’ She nodded, unwilling to admit that just travelling in a car, being on the motorway and having the freedom of a phone in her hand made her feel a little out of sorts, almost as if she had too much freedom.

‘How are you…? I mean, are you…?’ He tapped the steering wheel with his thumbs and bit his lip, worried about saying the wrong thing.

Seeing the man she loved so nervous around her sent a crimson blush of awkwardness over her face and chest. She adjusted her glasses.

‘I am doing great, David. I haven’t had a drink since the morning I got there and I feel healthier than I have in a long time.’ She thought it best to cut to the chase, deal with the elephant in the room, or in their case, the car.

‘So, I don’t know how to ask, really…’ He swallowed.

She twisted her body to face him. ‘David, you have to be able to talk to me. We’re a team without secrets, remember?’

Her heart raced at the prospect of having to mention her disgusting secret, the greedy need for booze that had taken hold of her for a while. She was, however, confident that she was not like the people she had just spent weeks sitting with and speaking to and observing pouring out their hearts in therapy. She liked a drink, yes, that she couldn’t deny, but these people were addicts and the two things were very different, despite what Jasper had said.

Dear little Jasper…
The half a brown envelope with his phone number on it lay folded inside her handbag; the other half had disappeared into his pocket with hers hurriedly scrawled on it. He had been sincere in his offer to be there if ever she needed anything, although she couldn’t imagine how that might come about. It was very sweet of him nonetheless.

He coughed. ‘Okay. And you’re right, Rom. So I guess what I want to ask is, are you fixed, do you think?’

Romilly couldn’t help the spurt of laughter that fired from her mouth. He glanced sideways at the passenger seat and laughed too. Her tears quickly followed. She was like a rainbow, formed by both rain and sun, with tears streaming as she laughed hard.

He placed his hand on her thigh. ‘It’s okay, Rom. It’ll all be okay.’

More tears came at the realisation that if he wondered if she was fixed, he must have considered her broken. And who wanted anything broken?
Don’t leave me, David. I need you.

As they pulled up onto the driveway, Romilly scraped her hair up into a knot and pinched her cheeks. A banner made of A4 sheets sellotaped together had been strung across the front door rather haphazardly, with
Welcome Home Mummy
printed across it in a riot of felt-tipped colour. The letters to the left were large, the W taking up a whole page; the ones to the right got smaller and smaller, where an impatient hand had run out of space. The effect was wonky but wonderful.

At the sound of the car, Celeste came running down the driveway. She buried her face in her mum’s chest, gripping her in a tight hug around her midriff before carefully patting both of her mum’s arms and legs. Romilly clasped her shoulders. They stood fast, neither wanting to let go, both of them thankful that they were on home territory again, not in the clinic with everyone watching.

‘I missed you, baby. I missed you so much – you have no idea!’ Romilly kissed her little girl’s face, inhaling the scent of her and enjoying the feel of her little body in such close proximity.

Sylvia hovered on the doorstep, holding a tea towel and smiling. Romilly nodded in her direction, both grateful for all she had done for David and Celeste in her absence and envious that this woman had stayed in her home and played house while she was out of sight. She stood tall and gripped her daughter’s hand, trying not to feel like a visitor to her own home.

‘I made you a present, Mum!’

‘How lovely! A present is just what the doctor ordered.’ She spoke without giving the phrase too much thought.

‘Did he make you better?’ Celeste looked up at her mum, hope written all over her face.

‘It was a she doctor actually, and yes she did.’ She beamed, quite convincingly.
I can do this, baby. I can do it for you and I can do it for your dad. I won’t let you down.

Celeste’s smile of relief split her face. ‘It’s a jewellery box, but it’s not only a jewellery box,’ she babbled as she skipped up the path, ‘it’s a candle holder as well.’

Romilly glanced back at her husband, who was lifting her bag from the boot. ‘Well, that sounds like a marvellous invention! Jewellery box candle holders, it’s genius!’

‘Welcome home.’ Sylvia planted a kiss on her daughter-in-law’s cheek. ‘There’s a chicken in the oven and a peach cobbler in the fridge. You look well, Romilly.’ She was sincere and Romilly felt guilty for the negative envy that had flared only seconds earlier.

‘Thank you, Sylvia. And thank you for… everything.’ She peeked over her shoulder and into her clean, tidy home.

‘I have a cab on the way, so I’ll leave you guys to it.’

‘Oh no! Stay and eat with us?’ Romilly levelled.

Sylvia shook her head. ‘Uh-uh. You need time with David and Celeste and I shall get out of your hair. But I’m on the end of the phone, so at any time, if you need anything, just call. London’s not that far away.’ She picked up her bag and kissed her granddaughter goodbye.

Romilly watched as David accompanied her down the driveway. As Sylvia stood holding her son and whispering into his ear, Romilly felt her aggression flare. ‘What are you two whispering about?’ she muttered under her breath.

‘Come on, Mum! Come on!’ Celeste pulled her by the arm.

She tried not to look at the cupboard door as she passed, tried not to picture the bottle that lay hidden and seemed to call to her as loudly as a jungle drum. She shook her head, pulled her shoulders back and headed into the kitchen to admire the rather lovely, if gaudy gift her daughter had made. The man-sized tissues had been discarded and the outside covered in pink tissue and large, plastic diamonds and rubies. In the middle sat a fat church candle; this too had a couple of precious jewels glued to the top. She had never loved anything more.

*

The four months following her return were happy times. Romilly felt, for want of a better word, clearer. She found new joy in her freedom and shrugged off her shyness. Celeste was a little more clingy than normal, but that was to be expected. Romilly did all she could to reassure her little girl that she wasn’t going anywhere. They enjoyed a newfound closeness, and had fun, even doing the most mundane things.

The first time they went shopping together, she smiled to herself as her little girl dithered over her cereal choice in the supermarket. ‘Come on, Celeste, get a wiggle on. They’re all the same anyway! Just blobs of cereal covered in enough sugar to topple a walrus.’

‘But I like them.’ She smiled her gap-toothed smile at her mum.

‘Yes, you like them
because
they’re coated in enough sugar to topple a walrus.’

‘And I like walrussusses.’