Who Are You? (23 page)

Alex tightens his grip on the wheel and speeds faster, the needle hitting 105 mph. The road is almost clear, with vast gaps between himself and the next pair of lights in the rear-view mirror. He should feel like the king of the road, but instead he feels like he’s imprisoned. He thinks he will never, ever escape, and the sense of helplessness is so utterly overwhelming that he can’t think clearly … just ‘Please, sir, please sir … no … sir, it hurts … please … STOP, sir … please …’ And then afterwards the filthy old bastard would sit Alex on his knee and try and calm his sobs.

‘There, there … it wasn’t so bad, was it? Our little secret. Don’t you ever tell or I’ll kill you, understand?’

‘Kill you. Kill you. Kill you …’ over and over and over in his head as he glides down the motorway. What if? What if he just twisted the steering wheel the slightest degree to the right, what if the car crashed into the central reservation at 110 miles an hour? He sees it hitting the barrier, he hears the explosion of metal against concrete, the car flying into the air, somersaulting over and over and then coming to rest. The car smashed, his body inside smashed. But what if he survived? Injured, helpless … no, not the way to do it. It would need to be controlled.

At the next exit he leaves the westbound lane and turns around to head back to London. Slower, now. The tears are beginning to flow. The adrenalin is fading, he reckons. He hates himself; no, hate is not strong enough. He despises himself so much that he doesn’t know how he can live with himself. His head is now filled with Juliet and what he did to her. The tears flow faster and heavier so that he has to wipe them away. His nose is running. Weak. Look at him, a snivelling, weak little coward. He doesn’t want to think about what he did to her. It wasn’t him. He was somebody else. Sir, his father, anyone – please let it be anyone other than himself. He couldn’t do something like that. But he
did
. He
did
do it and there’s no taking it back. Another moment of madness in his life to add to all the others. She will go, he realizes that. And she’ll take Ben. And then he will be left with nothing but himself. He laughs to himself – through his tears – as he thinks of the phrase, the cliché, a fate worse than death. Yes, it fits – a fate worse than death.

CHAPTER

15

Juliet has checked her emails at least half a dozen times but still nothing from Lil’ Miss Happy. And she’s also tried to call Alex several times. Eventually she calls the children’s ward at the hospital and asks if they’ve had a Benjamin Miller admitted. At first the nurse on the other end is cagey, no doubt wondering why a mother wouldn’t know where her own son is. Juliet explains that it was all a bit of an emergency, that she’s returned home from a visit and her husband couldn’t get hold of her, and now she can’t contact her husband on his mobile. She gives Ben’s date of birth, the name of his GP, his symptoms and eventually the nurse confirms that yes, Ben is there. ‘He’s had an emergency appendectomy and he’s back on the ward, but he’s still drowsy from the anaesthetic. Yes, his father was there, but now she doesn’t know where he is.

Much as Juliet is desperate to go to the hospital, she’s too scared of Alex and what he might do to her. He might tie her up again, or even keep her locked in their room so that she’d be completely at his mercy. He’s just so bloody unpredictable. She has no alternative, even though it breaks her heart, but to wait at home until he deigns to speak to her. All night long she lies awake, fully dressed on top of the bed, in case he should call, and so that she’s ready to leave at a moment’s notice. And she tries to stop herself from wondering how Ben is feeling, scared and in pain in a strange place, without his mother by his side to comfort him.

It’s seven a.m. when her phone finally rings.

‘Alex! Why the hell didn’t you call me?’

‘The battery on my phone was dead.’

‘I just wish I was there. I just want to hold him,’ Juliet’s voice catches. ‘I should be there. How is he?’

‘The surgeon said everything was fine.’

‘And how long will he have to stay in hospital?’

‘I’m not sure – three or four days. I expect he’s going to be feeling quite sore.

‘Where the hell have you been? I hope you stayed with him … You did, didn’t you? You didn’t leave him all alone in there?”

She hears Alex sigh. ‘Look I’ll be home soon, OK? I’ve got to go.’

Juliet puts the phone down and leans against the bedroom wall for a moment. Her legs feel weak and shaky. She’s not sure how much more emotional and physical turmoil she can deal with. She can’t bear the thought of Alex returning home without Ben. Her son has had an operation and she wasn’t even there. She should have been at his side. Alex could have called her. He could have asked to use a telephone to let her know what was going on. This was just one more way that he could torment and punish her.

*    *    *    *    *

Colours don’t have language barriers. Instructions, descriptions, conversations, these all need interpreters, but anything visual is universal. That’s why the directions to the various hospital departments are colour coded, with corresponding arrows and lines marking the route out like underfoot rainbows. Colours have associations and identities that everyone can relate to. It doesn’t matter if you don’t speak the language because everyone knows the language of colour. Blood. There is nothing that crosses the boundaries of race and creed like blood. Skin, hair, eyes, language, culture, religion, education and class divide us, but blood is the thing that unites us. Alex has seen so much blood; enough to know that even blood has its own variation in colour. Nothing so red as rich arterial blood, nor as black as the baked-on dried stuff on a two-day-old corpse, nor as scarlet as the blood from a fresh flesh wound. The feel and scent of it, viscous and sour. He tries to block the thoughts. A sudden image of a man beside him – one minute functioning, swearing, alive, and the next in pieces. Alex splattered with flesh and blood but unable to assimilate it, because he has a job to do. He has to keep on firing, keep focussed; what’s left of his comrade must be ignored for the moment. Yet one more body bag to be half-filled with what’s left.

The stink of the hospital, of the disinfectant, the waxed floors, the overheated air thick in his nostrils, makes him feel ill. Juliet walks beside him with her head down. She has made herself up and styled her hair in a way that covers the gash on her head. Alex is satisfied that she won’t raise any eyebrows or invite difficult questions. They continue following the blue lines to the children’s ward. They have to press a buzzer, disinfect their hands and then have their identity confirmed before they are allowed to pass into the ward. Alex is aware of Juliet putting her hand to her mouth when she sees Ben in the bed at the far end. There is a drip stand at the side of his bed, and a tube going into his nostril. His face is white and his eyes are glazed. Alex knows it is a look of pain; not the sort of extreme agony he has witnessed many times, but the more bearable, gnawing discomfort that puts a mask of strain over the face. He sees it in the way Ben’s mouth is tight at the corners and the tension across his forehead. Juliet bends to kiss him. ‘Poor darling,’ she says. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Sore, Mummy.’ His voice is barely more than a hoarse whisper. ‘I want to come home.’

‘Soon, sweetie. But you have to get a bit stronger. Just another day or two.’

There is a cannula on the back of his hand where the drip connects, and Juliet picks up his hand and says, ‘There, there, baby. Is this hurting you?’

‘A bit. I hate this thing in my nose. Make them take it out, Mummy.’

Alex is standing at the side of the bed, looking at the picture of his broken family. Inside he feels himself hurting so much it’s as if there is some kind of giant parasite gnawing at his guts. He needs to make everything better and yet he feels powerless to do so. They could have lost Ben. Juliet is doing her best to be cheerful.

‘Darling, look, we’ve brought you a drawing book, and some chocolate but we’ll have to ask the nurse if you’re allowed to have it. That’s one of the nice things about being in hospital, you get lovely treats. And Mummy’s going to stay here with you now, darling, so you won’t be lonely, OK?’

‘Please, Mummy. Please stay.’

She leans over and kisses his forehead. ‘Everything’s going to be all right, my darling. You’ll soon be better, and no more nasty tummy aches now that naughty appendix has been taken away.’

‘I’m sleepy, Mummy.’ Ben’s eyes close and his breathing deepens. Then a nurse arrives and checks the drip.

‘Everything OK?’ she asks cheerily.

‘I don’t know, you tell us,’ Alex says bluntly.

‘Oh young Master Miller is doing very well. We’ll take the drip down tomorrow and then he can go onto oral antibiotics. It was lucky they were able to do keyhole surgery, so he’ll be on the mend a bit quicker. The ward’s quiet because we’re not doing any routine stuff over Christmas. No children want to be in hospital when Father Christmas comes. So at least he won’t get too disturbed.’

‘Is it all right if I stay here with him?’ Juliet asks.

‘Oh yes. We find that nearly all parents stay in with their little ones. You could have been here last night …’

Juliet looks at Alex accusingly and then responds: ‘I wanted to be, I really did, but my husband
insisted
I wait at home.’

‘There didn’t seem much point in both of us being here, and he wouldn’t have known if you were here or not, after the anaesthetic. He was deeply asleep when I left him.’

Alex senses the nurse is picking up on the tension between them. She looks at each of them in turn and says diplomatically,
‘Quite right. He had a peaceful night, apparently, and he managed some breakfast. We’ll be getting him mobile tomorrow. But if you want to stay we can arrange a comfy chair or a camp bed. I’m afraid it’s not the most comfortable hotel in the world. And there’s also a little kitchen you can use, with a microwave and fridge, so if you want you can bring in some food. There’s tea and coffee, biscuits and stuff, so help yourselves.’

‘Thanks, that’s very kind.’

Alex picks up a chair from a nearby bedside and places it on the opposite side of the bed to Juliet. Her antipathy towards him is tangible in the way she doesn’t want to look at him; her eyes drift everywhere around the ward, at Ben, at the medical paraphernalia, but every time her eyes risk settling upon him, she quickly glances away.

‘Juliet, we need to discuss Scotland.’

‘Do we? What’s to discuss?’

‘Whether we go or not.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Ben can’t possibly travel. We’re talking about three days’ time. He may not be out of hospital.’

‘Yes, I know. But my mother would be very disappointed. I know how much she looks forward to it.’

‘So what are you suggesting?’

‘That perhaps I take her. You can stay with Ben and I’ll only be gone for two nights.’

‘Yes, I suppose that does make sense. If you’re happy about that.’

‘I’m not happy about leaving you both. Naturally.’

‘No, but as you say, Geraldine will be terribly disappointed. I think it’s a good idea.’

‘Fine, then.’ For the first time she looks at him directly and Alex can see the relief in her eyes. It hurts him to see it, but he’s helpless to change it. Who can blame her? If he was truly honest with himself he’d admit that the violent episodes were getting worse. He didn’t mean to hurt her. He just wanted her to understand him, to really understand who he was and what he really wanted for them as a family. If she didn’t have such a bloody-minded, stubborn will of her own things could be so different between them. What was that expression ‘If you really love something let it go … and see if it comes back to you?’ or some rubbish like that. He knows he’s taking a risk, leaving her home alone with Ben, but sometimes one has to set the hare running in order to capture it. He never wanted to have to view Juliet as the enemy, but he knows she can’t be trusted, and that she has an agenda of her own which goes against all of Alex’s best interests, and so she leaves him no choice. Well, he just might have to let her go in order to make her see that she would be making the biggest mistake of her life, that she would experience only regret and unhappiness. He’d make sure of that.

CHAPTER

16

Alex has gone home, leaving her alone with Ben. Juliet has found out from the nurse that there is an internet café and is desperate to hear from Lil’ Miss Happy about the possible refuge and so when Ben drifts off to sleep she tiptoes away from his bedside and sets off with her iPad.

Hi there Sparrowhawk or can I call you Juliet? Thanks for letting the mod have your email address and hope you’re feeling a bit better than you were last time you were online in the forum. How’s your little boy? Was it appendicitis? He’s quite young, isn’t he? You must be going out of your mind with worry. I am really sorry for what you are going through right now and I’ll try and help you in any way I can. Are you really sure that you can’t stay and work it out with your OH? I guess it depends on just how bad it’s got for you, but sometimes it can make things worse – harder to sort things out if that’s what you ultimately want. You mentioned he’d been in the forces so maybe it’s a post-traumatic thing? None of my business, but I can’t help thinking they deserve a bit more sympathy cos of what they’ve been through, rather than some bad-arse mean bastard who just beats up women for the fun of it. Anyway, just my opinion fwiw. Only you know what’s best for you so good luck with whatever you decide. I don’t know if this will be of any help to you, but my brother has got a cottage in Herefordshire near Brecon. It’s rural but not too cut off and he doesn’t want very much money for it and it’s available now. Let me know if you’re interested and I’ll put you in touch with him. Oh, and cos he’s my brother he knows all about the sort of things you’ll be going through. He’s used to listening to me rant about my ex, so feel free to rant away to him. Let me know how you get on, obviously, and just email me if you want to ‘talk’.
He’s called Mark Price and his email is
[email protected].
Hugs and take care
Lil’ Miss Happy aka Claire Price