Читать книгу If Ever I Fall - S.D. Robertson - Страница 10

Dear Sam,

Here we are: letter number two. I really wanted to write this yesterday, believe me, but it didn’t happen. Things got hectic. There were a couple of incidents, as I’ll explain later. There just wasn’t time.

Getting going with that first letter was hard, but once I got into the process, it felt good. By the end I had a real sense of achievement. You probably think that’s silly: to be patting myself on the back about something as simple as writing a letter. But it wasn’t simple. Not for me. Nothing’s been simple for a while. Not since, well, you know what.

I said I wasn’t going to dwell on the past, so I’m not. Writing to you is supposed to be a way of moving forward. But in order for me to properly confide in you, I need you to be able to understand where I’m coming from. I’m not the same person I used to be. I’ve changed a lot since you last saw me.

You could say I’ve had a breakdown.

There, I’ve said it. It wasn’t as hard as I expected. It’s been my big secret, you see. It’s not been a breakdown in the traditional sense. I’ve done it quietly, behind closed doors, keeping up a front in public; looking strong on the outside when I’m going to pieces inside.

You hear about functional alcoholics: people who maintain their jobs, homes and families despite a huge dependence on drink. I’m a bit like that. A functional fruitcake, you might say. I don’t have my job any more – I’m not that functional – but most people I know haven’t got a clue how messed up I am inside.

The official reason I stopped working was to be a full-time mum to Ruby. No one questioned that after what we’d been through. But actually I couldn’t hack it any more. I tried going back for a few days after the dust had settled and realised that if I stayed, I’d end up having a very public meltdown. At that point I could barely handle the commute to and from the city, never mind the job itself. So I handed in my notice. Thankfully, they let me go straight away.

The rest was manageable. I had enough time to make it look that way, at least. I fell apart in private and stood tall in public. Mainly for Ruby, if I’m honest. She needed me to be okay. Without her, I’d have probably been sectioned.

I never sought any help. Not until recently. That’s what led to these letters. But I’ll save that story for another day.

I’m worried that learning about this will make you feel bad, which is definitely not my intention. I don’t blame you for what happened, nor for the repercussions. It’s important you know that. But if I don’t give you the full picture, you’ll never understand. You won’t grasp how a basic task like writing a letter could be difficult for someone like me.

It’s safe to say I’m not the high-flyer I used to be. Far from it. Simple tasks have the power to confound me nowadays. My overactive brain, once the key to my success, has become my Achilles heel.

Anyway, Sam, on to other topics. I bet you’re wondering what happened with Rick, my new friend from Ruby’s school. That was what I promised last time.

Things went well to start with. We bumped into each other at the parking spot that had sparked our first conversation. He was looking every bit as handsome as I remembered, dressed in a navy suit and an open-collar sky-blue shirt. He said he’d come straight from work, but you’d never have guessed it. He looked as fresh and unruffled as if he’d dressed moments earlier.

I’d only settled on an outfit ten minutes before leaving the house: black slim leg trousers with a cream tunic top; smart casual, with my hair tied back and a dash of make-up. I wanted to look like I’d made an effort, but not as though I’d spent ages in front of the mirror. I had done, but that wasn’t something he needed to know.

The conversation flowed as we walked together to the schoolyard. He was quite the chatterbox, but in a good way. He wasn’t one of those guys who rabbit on about themselves. He seemed genuinely interested in me and my opinions, but without being intrusive. I know what you’re thinking, Sam: too good to be true. What’s the catch? Well, I was wondering the same. But every time he smiled at me with that perfect grin, daring me not to imagine his lips on mine, my wariness fizzled away.

And, yes, it felt great to see the Queen Bs’ eyes on us again. Were they as green with envy as I imagined or was I too busy enjoying the unique situation of getting one up on them? It’s hard to say.

It’s not that unusual for a dad to be at the school gates. You see quite a few, but they’re not normally as good-looking as Rick. He also happens to be new to the school and potentially single, which makes him hot property. Certainly not the kind of person the Queen Bs would expect to talk to a pariah like me. Seeing them sneering at me while muttering to one another was nothing new, but this time I felt like sticking my tongue out at them. Hardly a sure-fire way to impress Rick, though, so I settled for a smug grin or two in their direction, particularly towards Horsey and WAG. Then the girls came out of school and we all headed off together.

I must stop there, although there’s plenty still to tell you, believe me. I’ve not even got to the incidents I mentioned at the start yet. I’ll write again later today. That way I’ll make up for not writing yesterday and allow myself enough time to tell you what happened.

Love as always,

M

Xx