Living with Shadows (29 page)

As she walked, her thoughts kept turning to Jim and she wondered where he could have gone. She was still angry with him but didn’t relish the thought of another night in the house alone. She remembered all those lonely nights when she was married to Dave; when he worked away for weeks at a time. She would lie awake listening to every sound, real or imagined, terrified someone might break in and do them harm. One night she couldn’t sleep and eventually got up and made herself a cup of tea. Looking out of the window, she saw the security light had come on and convinced herself someone was snooping around. She took a knife out of the drawer, went back to bed and placed it underneath the mattress.

One weekend Dave returned home after a stint away. Before long they were embroiled in a row. Typically when they argued, he went out to the pub. She hadn’t been in bed long when he returned home drunk. He staggered into the bedroom spoiling for a fight. All she wanted to do was sleep so she asked him to be quiet before he woke the children. He came towards her, fists clenched, threatening. She pulled out the knife and he backed off. She could still remember the look of shock on his face. He called her a mad bitch and stormed out of the room. She ran and locked the door after him and lay back trembling, the knife discarded on the bedroom floor, the feel of its handle still lingering on her hand.

Kate looked up and saw she was nearing the top of the hill close to the castle. She sat down on a boulder. Jade lay down next to her, her tongue lolling from the side of her mouth, breath coming in quick gasps. From here villages were visible in the distance nestling between woodland and open fields. The view could often be obscured by mist, but today it was clear and bright and already she felt a sense of tranquillity rise in her. The sweet smell of grass on the hillside, a soft breeze and the warmth of the sun when it peeped out from behind a cloud helped calm her troubled mind.

The peace was soon shattered by the sound of her mobile. She had considered leaving it at home but her curiosity as to whether Jim would reply to her call had overridden her pique. She looked at the small screen and saw his name, deliberating a moment before answering.

‘Hello.’

‘I want to try and sort things out.’

‘Wouldn’t it be easier if you were home to do that?’

‘Yes, I’m sorry. I needed to think things over.’

‘Where are you?’

‘I’m on my way to work . . . I stayed in a hotel.’ His words stung and she searched for something to say but he spoke before she could gather her thoughts. ‘Look, Kate, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I do want to help Ben, but . . . it was a shock—an addict. It explains everything. We should have . . .’

At that Kate found her voice. ‘Oh, it’s “we” now.’

‘Please, Kate, let’s talk. I don’t want to fight.’

‘OK. We’ll talk.’

‘I’ll see you back home . . . I’ve missed you.’

‘See you later.’ She rang off and slipped the phone back into her pocket. It was some small consolation to her to hear him say he wanted to sort things out. For weeks now she’d felt they had been slipping apart, both of them preoccupied with other things, ignoring what was happening to them. She felt it wasn’t just about Ben or Michael or work, though God knows, it was enough.

She took a last look at the view before getting up to begin the long descent back to the car.

Jim drove around for hours, his mind in turmoil. To think that only a few weeks ago he had stayed with Angela and Tim and neither of them had divulged what they knew about his daughter.
His
daughter
. The words seemed alien to him. For the past fifteen years he had heard nothing from her, had no knowledge of her childhood, her teenage life, and now motherhood. He had never forgotten her, how could he? But it had been for the best. Her mother had told him so and he believed it at the time. Was it fair to bring a child up with two people who made each other’s lives a misery? It had been easier . . . no, not easier, fairer to his daughter, to walk away. Now he thought of all those years not knowing anything about her. He wondered whether she looked like him, spoke like him, shared his temperament. All he remembered was a five year old child, happy, loving,
his
.

Eventually, he came across a hotel on the outskirts of some town or other he’d just driven through. He longed for rest, together with the chance to reflect on what was becoming an increasingly complicated life. A bleep from inside his jacket told him he’d received a message and he reached for his mobile as he drove into the hotel car park. It was Helen. No, he wouldn’t reply. There would be no point in burdening her with his problems. Apart from anything else, he didn’t want company, not even Helen who was so easy to get along with, undemanding, warm and loving. The thought of being intimate with her at this moment repulsed him. It repulsed him because he no longer felt like the same person he was this morning. Then he was plain Jim Stuart with a wife, two children no longer dependent on them and a mistress who excited him in a way he hadn’t felt in years. Now he was a grandfather and stepfather to a heroin addict who he was supposed to take back under his roof without question. He knew all too well the horrors of drug addiction. The memory of it was still painful to him after all these years.

It was 9.10 pm when Jim booked into the hotel. He ordered a sandwich and beer from the bar and took it up to his room. Though by no means plush, it was clean and adequate for his needs. He switched on the T.V. and flicked through the channels but nothing took his attention. Instead he opted for the radio purely for the comfort of some background noise. As he ate his sandwich and drank the cool beer, his mind turned to his adolescence and Matt.

They were at school when they first met. Right from the start Jim was attracted to him. He oozed charisma and soon this fascination turned to hero worship. Matt had qualities that made people want to be around him, good looks, brains, personality. He was the most popular boy in school but chose Jim to be his best friend. They soon became closer than brothers and were constant companions. Matt was tall with blue-grey eyes and blond hair that reached to his shoulders, breaching the school rules. He always had a faithful following of male and female company but when he tired of them, he would want to go somewhere quiet, just the two of them, to sit and discuss more serious issues over a few beers and the odd joint. They both had their fair share of girls, but life was too exciting to start dating seriously.

Matt’s family were wealthy and as soon as he turned seventeen, his parents bought him a red sports car. He passed his test first time and Jim remembered the summers they spent together, driving all over the country looking for new adventures. Life couldn’t have been better for Jim. And then Matt became restless. The odd joint wasn’t enough anymore and he began to experiment with LSD and other drugs. He went from one trip to another, chasing the ultimate experience. Before long he was hooked and Jim watched helplessly as the drugs took hold. Jim told him he was ruining his life, that if he didn’t curb his excessive drug-taking he wouldn’t live to celebrate his twenty first birthday. Matt laughed, called him dull and boring. Even when his life began to fall apart, Matt wouldn’t listen. He dropped out of college, alienated his friends and constantly argued with his parents. When his parents stopped dishing out money, he’d steal whatever he could from the family home and sell it for drugs. Over the next few years, he saw his friend turn into a mental and physical wreck.

When he was eighteen Jim’s mother died of a stroke. There had been no warning; she just woke up one morning complaining of a bad headache. By the time they realised there was something seriously wrong, it was too late. His father took it badly and Jim’s plans for university had to be abandoned. Instead, he found a job with a local building firm and contributed his meagre wage to the running of their home. It grieved him all the more to watch Matt give up a place in university and waste his life on drugs.

One evening Matt turned up at Jim’s house. It was obvious he was high on something. Jim remembered his father turning from the television to see who had come. He briefly acknowledged Matt out of courtesy but the look on his face said he wasn’t really welcome and Jim quickly took him up to his room.

There, Matt seemed to calm down and grew serious. ‘I’ve decided to go away.’

‘Where to?’

‘I have an aunt in London. I’m sure she’ll take me in. Thought the sun shone out of my arse when I was younger.’

‘Does she know . . . ?’

‘About my ill-fated life? Yes, but she’s the type who likes to try and sort people out. You know, like Florence Nightingale.’

Jim sat up. ‘The chance of a new start? I’m glad, Matt. It’s what you need.’

‘We’ll see. Anyway, I thought I’d let you know.’ He stood up and looked uneasy. ‘I won’t stay. I know your father doesn’t approve of me, and I don’t blame him.’

Jim was embarrassed. There was a time when Matt would come around and chat with his father for hours.

Matt pushed his hands into his pockets and looked Jim in the eye. ‘I want you to know you’re the best friend anyone could ever have. I remember when we first met, in school. I liked you straight away. No, it was more than that, I admired you tremendously. You always seemed to have an inner strength, something solid and dependable. You’ve never failed me, Jim; not like I’ve failed you . . . everyone.’

Jim remembered the look of sheer despair in Matt’s eyes as he fought back tears. Matt had taken his hand in both of his and shook it vigorously.

‘You’ll beat this,’ Jim told him.

Matt gave a nervous laugh and released Jim’s hand. ‘Goodbye, Jim. I’ll see myself out.’

Jim had sat alone for some time thinking about what Matt had said and wondering whether he would have the strength to quit drugs. He was touched and surprised to hear that Matt had always admired him; to give someone hero status, as Jim had Matt, and then to be told by that very person he may have felt the same about someone as unremarkable as himself was something he could never have believed. He prayed his aunt would be able to help him.

The next day Jim read the news in the local paper. “Man Killed in Road Accident”. It was Jim’s father who broke the news to him later that evening on his return from the pub. There was no doubt it was Matthew Denning. It had happened in the early hours of the morning, sometime after he had called to say goodbye. Jim recalled their conversation and began to have doubts about Matt’s state of mind. Somehow it didn’t add up, this aunt who was to be his saviour, travelling to London in the middle of the night, the personal tribute he’d paid to Jim. Also, it was the first time Matt had acknowledged he had a problem. Usually he made out other people had the problem, living their mundane lives with no experience beyond their own little world when there was so much more to explore by taking a few pills or smoking herb. Jim began to wonder if it really was an accident. If only he’d kept him talking all night, tried to persuade him not to run away but to stay and get help where he still had a few friends.

Jim cursed. He opened the hospitality bar and took out a small bottle of whisky. Kate would have her work cut out with Ben, he knew. He really didn’t want to get involved in trying to clean up a drug addict knowing how futile his last attempt had been. But what choice did he have? When he married Kate, he had taken on the role of father to her children, but at what stage in their lives did that responsibility end? If it was up to Kate it never would. As far as he could see, it was pathetic for someone of Ben’s age not to take responsibility for his actions.

He thought of Helen. Free to do whatever she liked, no family to worry about, attractive, talented. Even if she wanted him, how could he ever fit into her world, a simple workman whose only sense of fashion was a pair of jeans and a handful of supermarket T shirts? His thoughts turned to Sharon, sitting on his knee ready for bed clutching her pink teddy bear, washed so many times it could no longer hold its head up. He wondered if she still had it. He sipped his whisky.
Grandfather.
The concept already made him feel so much older. His phone bleeped. He looked at the message, saw it was from Helen and switched it off.