Nearest Thing to Crazy (23 page)

I turned the card over and over in my hand and traced my finger across the handwriting. It was addressed to the Bristol office, so it was sent a long time ago, certainly more than fifteen years ago. It could be, what, eighteen – even twenty – years old, this postcard. And he’d hung on to it in his box of treasures. Calm, I told myself. Keep calm. It was a long time ago, a long time ago . . . I repeated the mantra to myself. ‘A
long
time ago.’ Not now. This wasn’t happening now. Whatever had happened was in the past. We had had a lifetime together since then. I kept on taking deep breaths, trying to steady my racing heart. The box yawned wide open in front of me. I hadn’t done with it. Oh no, I hadn’t finished with it yet. My masochistic urge to hurt myself was not yet assuaged. I needed to feel myself bleed as surely as if I was wielding a blade against my skin. It made me feel real; it made me feel that I wasn’t going crazy.

I started to empty out the entire box. Then I found a book of matches with the name of a hotel, the Majestic, Roma. What had he said when I’d confronted him? I’d been stupid. I’d been neurotic, possessive, jealous . . . suffering from depression. I needed help . . . oh yes, I remembered all right. He had used my own Achilles heel of insecurity to fuel my neurosis – to make me believe that I was imagining things, that my mind was playing tricks on me – and he’d succeeded in convincing me. And now, here in my hand was the evidence. And weirdly, the only thing that popped into my mind was how stupid of him. How very stupid of Dan to keep these little mementoes so that one day I could find out, have it all confirmed. Maybe he wouldn’t suspect that I’d go snooping into his personal secrets, but he might have thought that one day, if he happened to drop dead, someone – Laura or me – might have discovered these things.

I folded my arms over my abdomen and crouched forward on my knees, trying to ease the soreness in my stomach as a wave of profound sadness washed over me. Oh Dan. Why?

I don’t know long I’d been sitting there, numbly thinking about things, mulling everything over in my mind, trying to piece together the fragments in order to make some sense of it. When the phone rang it made me jump. Caller display told me it was Dan. I let it ring until it went onto the message service. His voice mail told me he’d got a breakfast meeting at 8 a.m. and so he’d decided to stay in the company apartment. I felt a huge sense of relief that I’d got a respite from having to face him. I had another day to recover my senses, if that was possible. But I also wondered, could it be a coincidence that he’d chosen to stay away on the day he was having lunch with Ellie?

At dusk I set off down the lane wearing a pair of ancient trainers and some baggy tracksuit bottoms so that if anyone noticed me they might assume that I had taken up some new keep-fit regime. I didn’t need to run, exactly. I was more of a power-walk kind of girl, and within a few minutes I was level with Ellie’s. I accelerated as I passed, finding it hard to keep my head down so that I wouldn’t be spotted, while at the same time trying to make sure that it was actually Ellie’s head that I could see through the window. But, no, it was definitely the back of her head, seated at her desk, presumably tapping away at her keyboard, spewing poison. I could also see the dog, perched on the window sill, barking its stupid little head off at me. I ran even faster down the road and then I heard the front door open and Ellie call out ‘Cass? Is that you?’ I know it was stupid, but I couldn’t think what else to do, so I leapt into the hedge and curled into a low ball amidst the vegetation, hoping that the cow parsley would hide me. I could feel the sharp sting of nettles against my bottom. ‘Shit!’ I said, under my breath. And ‘Ouch!’

I waited for the sound of her footsteps but none came, and after a few more seconds I heard what sounded like the front door closing. The dog was still letting out muffled, intermittent yaps as if to say, ‘She’s still there . . . I know she’s still there . . .’

I waited for the yaps to subside and then stood up and brushed myself down. The bloody barking started up again. I had a choice. I could either set out across the fields and do a huge circuit along the footpath to get back home, which would probably take about twenty minutes, or I could simply head back along the road and hope she didn’t see me. Because if she did see me, I could guess what she’d say: ‘I’m really worried about Cass, she was lurking outside my house last night . . .’ It was beginning to get dark, and I didn’t have a torch and, to be honest, I always found pitch-black open spaces a bit spooky at night. I waited for a few moments until the barking stopped, and then I set off, trying hard to sprint on the tips of my toes, but as I neared her house, the barking started up again. I bent low against the hedgerow on the opposite side of the road and continued running, but I tripped the sensor on the security light and so there I was, lit up like a rabbit in a headlight. I couldn’t stop myself from glancing towards Ellie’s front window, and there she stood, looking out at me, with this big silly grin on her face, waving.

That went well, I told myself, as I slammed my own front door shut behind me.

I was halfway through a bottle of chardonnay when the telephone rang. The sound made me jump so much that I spilt cold wine over my hand. Lately I seemed to jump out of my skin at the slightest thing, like I was primed, on heightened alert for attack. I hadn’t had anything solid, bar a couple of cheese-flavoured rice cakes, all day. It was Dan’s mother, and I was worried she might notice the faint slur in my voice.

‘Cass, love. It’s me.’

‘Hello, Pat,’ I said. ‘How are you?’

‘Mustn’t complain.’ Pat never complained about anything, she always seemed to be inexplicably contented with her lot. Widowed for years, her son living two hundred miles away, but at least she had Dan’s sister, Maggie, close by. Maggie and Dan weren’t close. She thought that Dan had got above himself, putting on airs and graces and turning his back on his working-class roots. If Dan was a champagne kind of socialist, Maggie was more of a bitter shandy sort of girl. I know that she resented the fact that Dan and I didn’t see enough of Pat. But, then, we did live so far away. Sometimes Pat would come and stay for a few days, but I guessed she never felt really comfortable. Perhaps she didn’t want to feel she was interfering, or getting in the way. She was thoughtful like that. A proper sort of mum.

‘Dan’s not here, Pat. He’s staying overnight in Birmingham . . .’

‘Not to worry. How are you, lovey?’

‘I’m fine. Absolutely fine. We’re all fine, thanks.’

‘Well, you know, I was just checking you’re not getting too lonely with Laura away, and Dan working so hard. I know how you feel these things, Cassandra.’

‘No, no . . .’ But something caught in my throat and I felt the prick of tears. For a second or two I didn’t want to speak in case she guessed. A caring voice on the other end of the phone was the last thing I needed. I mean, it was lovely, but I couldn’t cope with sympathy if I was to hold myself together. Not from Dan’s mother, because she would tell Dan.

‘You could do with a holiday, you two. Some time together wouldn’t do either of you any harm.’

‘Hmm, maybe. We had our five days back in April, which was lovely.
But it’s difficult getting away, what with the agency and everything.’

‘Well he shouldn’t lose sight of what’s important – you and
Laura. The Lakes are lovely at this time of year . . .’

I smiled into the phone. ‘Yes. I believe they are.’ And of course they were very close to Pat. ‘We must come and see you, Pat. I’ll talk to Dan and we’ll try and get something sorted. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?’

‘Well that would be nice. Sometime, dear. I’d love to see you both
– and Laura, of course. But it’s you I’m worried about.’

‘I’m
fine
, Pat. Absolutely fine. And it’s kind of you to ring.’

‘Give my love to that son of mine, and tell him to take care of you.’

‘I shall. Thank you.’

I replaced the receiver. It was sweet of Pat to call, but all I could think was that Dan had spoken to her about me. Was he laying foundations? And what would she report back to him? That I sounded depressed and drunk?

The last thing I did before climbing into bed was to check my mobile. I had a missed call and a text from Laura. She of all people knew if she really wanted to talk to me she should call the landline. I opened up the text:

‘Thought u wd like 2 no had a gr8 lunch with Dad and Ellie 2day. Xx

I got back from Birmingham around six-ish. I had to go and collect Coco from Sally’s because she’d been looking after her for me. I stayed for a quick glass of wine and I told Sally that I’d met Dan and Laura for lunch because I was trying to help Laura with her work experience, internship . . . whatever you’d like to call it. I said to Sally that as things were a bit delicate with Cass at the moment that Dan had said it might be best not to mention it to her. Sally agreed that she wouldn’t mention it. I said it’s no big deal but after that row I heard, and the way she was on Saturday night, I wouldn’t want to upset her even more. I mean, with the way her mind was at the moment, she might read more into it than was there to read, if you know what I mean. So after that I went home. I settled down for a writing session and lost track of time.

I suppose it was about 9 . . . 9.30-ish – almost dark. Yes, that’s right, it was almost dark because I’d put the lights on. Coco started to bark like a lunatic. At first I ignored it, thinking it must be a hedgehog – we get a lot of those – or even a fox. But she wouldn’t quieten down, so eventually I got up to look out of the window, to see if there was anyone out there. Well, can you imagine my surprise when I thought I caught sight of a figure disappearing into the hedge? It was very disturbing, but I couldn’t be sure it wasn’t the shadows playing tricks, so I tried to settle back to work. Coco started barking again. I got up once more. It had got dark enough for the movement outside to trip the security lights, and imagine my surprise when I saw Cassandra there, all lit up and suspicious-looking. I opened the front door and shouted ‘Hello . . . Cass . . . are you okay?’but she was running away, back down the lane towards her house, pretending she couldn’t hear me. I thought it was very odd. I mean, even if she was just going for a run, then it was a bit late . . . a bit dark . . . to be doing it. And thinking about it, I reckon it was her that I’d seen leaping into the hedge. I think she was spying on me, you know. I do. I can’t think what else she would have been doing there. And of course, with hindsight, it’s obvious, isn’t it, what she was doing?

CHAPTER

12

I had yet another night of interrupted sleep, with my thoughts buzzing around my mind like flies trapped in a lampshade. Everything seemed to be going wrong: Dan, Laura, my friends; there just didn’t seem to be any corner of my life where it felt okay. The only reason I dragged myself out of bed was because I’d made a commitment, and I couldn’t cope with the fallout if I didn’t turn up, so I had no choice but to pull myself together. Perhaps some might argue that the distraction of giving a garden session to a group of care home residents was just the tonic I needed.

I approached the greenhouse with a fair degree of trepidation but when I saw about half a dozen of the residents already assembled in a little group, ready for me, I knew I’d done the right thing. Imagine if I hadn’t turned up. Matron and the staff would have every reason to believe all the dreadful things my mother said about me.

‘Good morning,’ I said, breezily, ‘I’m Cassandra, Deborah’s daughter. And I’ve come to help out with this morning’s gardening session.’

‘Whose daughter?’ said one of the two ladies I didn’t recognize, nudging the other.

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘But she’s somebody’s daughter.’

‘Deborah’s,’ I repeated.

‘Who’s Deborah?’ the second one asked.

‘Her mother,’ the first one said.

‘Right then, perhaps if we could go round and I could learn who everyone is . . .’

I introduced myself to the two ladies I hadn’t met and repeated my hellos to the others that I had, and then suggested we make a start. Fuelled by the warmth of the morning, sunshine, and penned in by wheelchairs and walking frames, I surprised myself by how much I was looking forward to our session. And so far, there was no sign of my mother.