Читать книгу Mindsight - Chris Curran - Страница 11

Once I was alone in the quiet flat again, I thought about Lorna. She had been kind, but she couldn’t really help me. It was the same in prison when she used to tell me I should let Tommy visit, and I knew she was right, but I just couldn’t do it.

Oh, I kidded myself I was thinking of what was best for him. Ruby saw her kids, but there were plenty, like me, who persuaded themselves they wanted to spare their children: to save them the heartache of being separated again and again, blah de blah. The truth was, we were ashamed to face those clear eyes, the inevitable questions.

I had to face them now if I ever wanted Tommy back with me; to be a real mother to him. I picked up the phone: desperate just to hear his voice again.

Alice answered and I asked, ‘Is he all right? Do you think it went OK yesterday?’

I heard sounds, as if she was moving to another room or closing a door. ‘He’s been very quiet since, but apart from that… What about you?’

‘I’m all right, better, I think. I’ve emailed Emily, just to say hello.’

‘That’s good, I know she really wants to see you.’ Now her voice came from a distance, calling to Tom. ‘Yes it is. Come and speak to her.’ Then close to the phone again, very gently. ‘Here he is.’

Silence. I tried to speak but my throat had dried so much it came out on a cough. ‘OK, Tom?’

‘Yeah.’

Keep it light. ‘What are you up to?’

‘Nothing much.’

This was awful. ‘I was hoping to get over again tomorrow,’ I said. ‘It’s Sunday, so we’ll have a bit more time together.’

‘Oh, no, I’ve got a table tennis tournament all day tomorrow and I’m going to Mark’s after, for tea, so I won’t be back till late.’

‘Oh… Fine. Of course… ’

‘Sorry.’

‘That’s OK, don’t worry about it.’ The silence stretched between us. ‘Well… good luck… hope it goes well.’

‘Thanks.’ I heard his breath, loud and fast in my ear, but he said nothing more and I couldn’t manage anything either. I asked to talk to Alice again.

‘I’ll get her. Bye.’ The phone clunked down, as if he’d dropped it, and I heard his footsteps, a mumble of voices, then the sharp crack of his laugh followed by a chuckle from Alice.

‘I am sorry, Clare. I didn’t know about the table tennis, or the tea for that matter,’ she said when she came on. ‘I try to keep track of dates, but he’s getting worse and worse at letting me know.’

‘It’s fine. I can’t expect him to put everything on hold for me.’

‘Why don’t you come over anyway and have lunch with me? Or I could check what he’s got on Monday and Tuesday and we can arrange something then.’

I promised to ring her the next day and said some kind of goodbye. Then I sat holding the silent phone, rocking back and forth as I bit the inside of my mouth, hoping the physical pain might somehow help. I had no idea what I’d expected, but at least I’d hoped to see him soon. Hoped he would want to see me.

What bothered me was the way he seemed so remote. And the way he’d laughed with Alice. So different from our few stumbling words.

Of course, it was bound to be awkward at first, and I should have planned what to say more carefully – I promised myself I would do that next time. And I couldn’t put the blame on Alice or anyone else. It was my own fault, all of it. How stupid I’d been to ban him from visiting me.

Some of the women in prison were honest and admitted they’d never wanted kids in the first place and the one good thing about doing time was that it freed them from those clinging bundles of dependency. Most were like me, lying to themselves. I told myself it was better if he got on with his own life and forgot about me. But the truth was that seeing my child would have been unbearable because it would have reminded me of all the ways I’d hurt him.

I decided to write to Ruby. She’d told me not to, told me to put prison and everything to do with it behind me, but I knew she would be happy to hear from me. And she was the only person I could tell everything.

But when I’d finished pouring it all out onto the page, I realised I couldn’t send a letter like this. The screws would read it before Ruby and I imagined that big bitch Maureen having a good laugh at my pathetic ramblings. I tore the paper into tiny pieces and scattered them on the table, pressing my fists against my temples as I muttered curses to myself, to the bastard screws, and even to the crumpled sea for lying there so grey and sluggish.

Unbelievable as it seemed, I wanted nothing more at that moment than to be back in prison, with Mike to tell me to put the past behind me, and Ruby to cheer me on when I began to hope I might have some kind of future outside.

It had been terrible in the early days. I was sure I was innocent and could only grieve for the family I had lost and obsess over the agony of separation from Tommy. The one thing that kept me going then was believing my appeal must succeed and I would soon be back with him. But even before the appeal failed I realised I had to be guilty, and for a long time after that I could hardly imagine how to carry on living. Didn’t want to go on.

I was never sure when things changed, but one day I found myself talking to Ruby, and later to Alice and Lorna, about seeing Tommy again and trying to be a mother to him once more. I had been so determined to make it work that I remembered a few days when I had felt so hopeful it was almost like happiness. If I could hear Ruby’s voice again, maybe I could recapture that sense of hope.

In the end, I wrote her a short note, saying I just wanted to make sure she still had my address and phone number. I would buy a phone card and slip that into the envelope hoping she would understand it as a plea to call me.

But almost as if I’d actually spoken to her, I could hear what she would say. It was no good dwelling on how badly I’d dealt with things in the past. I had to give Tom what he needed now and that meant taking his questions seriously, and trying to find some answers, no matter how difficult it was for me. It would mean probing into things people would rather forget. And, above all, trying to force my own stubborn brain to reveal what it was hiding. It would hurt, I knew that, it might even turn Tom against me, but it was the very least I owed him.

I would have to start with Emily and Matt. And the place where it happened. I hadn’t seen Matt since that night. But Emily was there through most of the trial, spoke up as a witness for my defence, although she didn’t know much, and then sat and watched, smiling and nodding encouragement at me. Later, she came to see me regularly in prison until I refused her visits.

‘I don’t know how you bear it,’ was what she’d said, oh so kindly, the last time she came. And I looked up to see myself, tiny and far away, reflected in her eyes – a specimen behind glass. It was the word bear that did it, and I knew she didn’t mean, how did I endure the loss, or stand the grief, but how did I bear the burden of my guilt. That was when I told her I didn’t want to see her again; that was in the days before I knew I was guilty.

After the way I’d treated her, I could hardly blame her if she didn’t want to see me. And even if she did, how would she and Matt feel when I started asking questions about that night? I thought how dreadful every wedding anniversary must be for her and how the strands of my guilt entangled all the people I loved.

God knows how I could raise it with either of them, but they were the only ones who knew everyone at the wedding and I needed to ask if they had any idea of who might have given me the pills. If I could find that out, maybe I could also discover why I’d wanted them.

The sessions with Mike in prison had shown me how easily it could happen. There were others, like me, who claimed to have been clean for months, or years, but always there was a trigger to send them back to the vodka, the speed or the smack. Ruby’s man came home from wherever he’d been, beat her and gave her heroin to cheer her up. Jo had her kids taken away, and Lillian’s husband left her. They all agreed, though, that torturing yourself over the whys and wherefores was a waste of time.

I’d accepted it then. It seemed to make sense. But I knew now there was no way I could even think about rebuilding my life before I found out why I’d destroyed it.

And I had to show Tom I was taking his theories seriously. Lorna could help me with how Dad had handled the drug scandal, and if there had been any unpleasantness. Matt had worked for the company too, as a chemist, and it was just possible he could shed light on the way the labs worked; might even have known the doctor who wrote the report that caused all the trouble.

My mind was buzzing with so many thoughts I could feel a headache brewing and nothing seemed to make sense anymore. I needed to get out of the flat, to walk until I was tired enough to stop thinking for a while. Long walks were one of the things I missed most when I was inside, and another reason I’d chosen Hastings was because I knew there would be hills to tire me, sea views to soothe me, and long stretches of countryside to exhaust me. It was too late to go far, so a fast tramp up the nearest hill would have to do.

The clouds had lifted again to make a beautiful evening, the sun still high in the sky, the sea calm, and I clamped down on my thoughts and concentrated on putting one foot in front of another. Turning towards the town, I found a convenience store open and bought a phone card, slipped it in with the note for Ruby, and posted it. Then I headed sharp uphill between the jumbled old cottages, along one of the steep cobbled alleyways the locals call twittens.

Before I’d gone far, the alley turned into a flight of almost vertical steps and I was grateful for the handrail, but, all the same, by the time I reached the top my calves were aching and my chest was tight. The climb had left me hot and sticky, but up here a cool breeze blew across the wide stretch of grass, and I was glad to find an empty bench.

To my right was the ruin of William the Conqueror’s castle. Ahead, beyond the grassy cliff-edge, the sea was dotted, even at this hour, with small, dark boats. Coloured lights twinkled over the little funfair and amusement arcades, and a miniature train slid silently along beside the beach. To the left was the other hill, the East Hill, where the wooden carriage of a funicular lift hauled itself to the top. And, huddled between the two hills, the clustered houses, cafés and pubs of the Old Town bustled with activity.

Even up here the grass was heaving with life. A dog bouncing after a stick, a group of teenagers grabbing and squealing at each other, families with children, and a few elderly couples, arms linked as they strolled along. As I watched, a woman left the café that stood near the cliff-edge and began to lock the door, looking back to the road behind her to wave a beefy arm at a passing car.

I was close to them all, but felt as distant as if I was behind glass. Were they all as carefree as they looked? The two girls, one skinny, one plump, their pretty faces contorted as they zigzagged across the grass, taunting a couple of boys; the young couple, her arm round his waist, his hand tucked into the back pocket of her jeans; the little family, Mum with a baby in a buggy, and Dad pushing a little boy over the lumpy grass as he strained pink-faced on a bike with two wobbly trainer wheels.

Did we look like that, not so long ago, Steve and I, with our twins? And were we happy? I had thought so, but now I wasn’t sure. I always told Steve he saved me because I realised I was loveable, despite everything.

I met him shortly after Mum died and I’d cleaned up my act. I was doing a temp job at Dad’s firm, mostly helping Lorna in the office. A few of the guys had slimed round me once they knew who I was, but Steve was different. He was working for Dad, too, as a freelance gardener. I thought he was absolutely gorgeous; tall, blond, and with a kind of gangly grace that turned my insides liquid. I started eating my lunch on a bench outside and one day Steve asked if he could join me. And that was it.

When I became pregnant I thought nothing could make me go back to my old ways: to the drugs or drink. So what happened?

Although I hadn’t been able to stop thinking, the walk and the fresh air had done something positive and I came down almost at a run. I was suddenly very hungry, and giving silent thanks to Alice for stocking the freezer with ready meals. But as I came in sight of the flat I saw a tall man turning away from the front door. I slowed my steps. If it was Nic’s ex I didn’t want to meet him, and even if it was the mysterious upstairs tenant, I wasn’t keen on a conversation right now.

I took out my mobile phone, pretending an interest in it, to avoid looking at him. But he had stopped at the garden gate and was staring along the road at me and after a minute or two I had no option but to raise my eyes.

It was Matt, Emily’s Matt. He looked a little older and rather more solid, but it was unmistakably him.

The shock of seeing him here made me step back and the hedge of the house I was passing pressed into my back. He was coming towards me, his hands outstretched, but all I could do was stare.

‘Clare, I thought I’d missed you.’

His arms were round me, my face pressed into his crisp blue shirt. He was very warm, but smelled only of citrusy aftershave. When he pulled away he held me at arms’ length, nodding and smiling.

‘You look great.’

‘You too.’ It was true. The weight gain suited him and with a tan and designer sunglasses he looked really good. ‘But what are you doing here?’ I cringed at how that sounded, but he laughed, threading his arm through mine and walking us back to the house.

‘Came to see you, of course. And I’ve been hanging about for half an hour, so I hope you’re going to ask me in.’

‘I’m sorry, that sounded awful. I was just so surprised to see you.’

At the front door of the house, he leaned against the wall as I fished out my key. ‘I’ve just come back through the Tunnel – conference in Le Touquet – so I was almost passing,’ he said. ‘Emily phoned to tell me you’d emailed and she’s desperate to know how you are and made me promise to persuade you to come visit us soon.’

It was just as well that, as I let us into the flat, he walked straight into the living room and over to the windows, and he couldn’t see me scrub at my eyes, because if he’d opened his arms to me again, I would probably have sobbed on his chest.

He was looking out of the window, swapping his sunglasses for an ordinary pair as he did so.

‘Hey, nice view. Must make a change from what you’re used to.’

I laughed, ‘You could say that.’

He turned, pulling a face. ‘Sorry, but you know me, not the most tactful of men.’

‘It’s fine, I’d rather keep it out in the open.’ It was true. I certainly didn’t want to talk about prison with strangers, but it was a relief to be with people who knew. And I’d always liked Matt. There was a warmth about him, a sense of reliability that had something to do with his size, but was more about his personality. Now he sprawled on the sofa, seeming to fill the room, and looking more like the Matt I was used to in his dark-rimmed spectacles. I headed for the kitchen. ‘Coffee?’

A chuckle. ‘If you don’t mind I’d rather have tea. If I remember right, your coffee is strong enough to stand a spoon in.’

‘Actually, after the dishwater I’ve been drinking for five years, I’m making it a lot weaker. Still, tea it is.’

When I brought the tea and sat in the armchair opposite, Matt leaned over and touched my knee, with a big friendly hand. ‘It really is good to see you looking so well, Clare, and Emily can’t wait for you to come and stay with us in Cumbria.’

‘Well, I’ve got a job.’ He put down his mug, a broad smile on his face, but I shook my head. ‘Only in a flower shop, working for a friend of Alice, but it’s good to be back in the working world. I’m still part-time, though, so I should have a few days free soon.’

I knew Emily was finally pregnant after years of trying, IVF and so on, and we talked about that for a bit. The baby was due in a few weeks and Emily had stopped work and was staying at their house in the Lake District all the time. Matt still had to be in London and was using their flat there. ‘So poor Em gets lonely. I’m working extra at the moment to have more space when the sprog appears. In fact I’ve got some meetings in town tomorrow.’

‘On a Sunday?’

‘Well since the Yanks took over the firm, it’s breakfast meetings, late night conference calls, you name it. To be honest, I can’t wait to get out, but they’re cutting the chemistry departments in the universities and there’s a glut of people like me looking for a change.’ He ran his hand through his dark blond hair, looking more like his old scruffy self by the minute. ‘Still you don’t want to know about all that. How you are, really? How are things with Tom?’

I took a breath, better to start as I meant to go on. ‘It’s early days, but so far so good. There is one problem, though, Matt. He’s convinced himself I wasn’t to blame for the accident. Wants me to look into the whole thing again.’

He rubbed his hands over his face. ‘Blimey, that’s a bummer. So what have you said?’

‘That I’ll try to find out what I can.’

He drained his mug. ‘Look, I should be going. Only stopped to deliver the message. If I remember, it’s a long and winding road from here to London. Just tell me you’ll definitely visit us soon and my job here is done.’

‘I promise, but why don’t you stay for something to eat?’

He stood up. ‘Better not, I have some work to do before these meetings tomorrow.’

I couldn’t let it end there. ‘I wanted to ask you a couple of things. To help Tom.’

His spectacle case had slid down the side of the sofa and he bent to fumble for it. ‘What’s that?’

‘Well, I’ve always wondered about who could have supplied me with the speed. It must have been someone at the wedding, you see.’ It was difficult to talk to him while he was pulling out the case, then opening it and rubbing at the sunglass lenses, and I was very aware I was holding him up. ‘You and Emily knew everyone there, so I wanted to know if there was anyone you could think of?’

He’d put the sunglasses on again and was looking more like the stylish guy I’d seen outside the house. ‘It’s a long while ago, Clare, and if any of our friends did have a habit we didn’t know about it. And to be frank I wouldn’t want to give you their names if I did. Can you imagine how they’d feel if you turned up asking questions like that? And the chances of them telling you if they did supply you are zilch I’d say. Besides it was more likely someone from the catering company.’ He leaned close and kissed me, his cheek just a little stubbly. ‘Let it drop, sweetheart. Tom’ll forget about it once he gets used to you being around and starts enjoying having a mum again.’

After I’d seen him out I closed my front door and leaned my head against it. I’d made a complete hash of that and I knew I should have waited until I’d thought out what to say more carefully. I microwaved a pasta meal and ate it at the kitchen table, wondering how I’d got myself into this when I should be focusing on making a new life for Tom and me.

The day, and the sleepless night before it, had drained me completely and I wasn’t even tempted to turn on the TV. Instead, I threw off my clothes, pulled the curtains to shut out the glow of fading sunlight and climbed into bed.

The pillow was smooth and cool but I was wide awake again, my mind racing. I turned on the bedside light and picked up the photo frame. Steve and my boys smiled at me. The eight-year-old Tommy in the picture was still more real to me than the awkward teenager I was trying to get to know. And Toby – the gap where he’d just lost a tooth making his grin cheekier than ever. My dear little boy would never be a teenager, never grow up, because of me and I could never look at his face without that agonised throb. ‘I’m sorry, Toby,’ I whispered.

My husband was standing behind the boys, smiling his wide, white smile. One hand was on Toby’s shoulder, the other pushing strands of fair hair away from his own face. Little Tommy leaned back against him. ‘Oh, Steve…’

I smoothed their dear faces with a fingertip, then pressed the photo to my chest. But it was only plastic and glass and it gave no comfort.