Sleep Peacefully (7 page)

Lately,
however, Jess’s work had started to slip. Her article was now a lot smaller after
Greg had taken the decision to cut back on its space due to falling sales. Its
reviews were plummeting, and it lacked the depth it had once boasted. It had
become unimaginative and appeared repetitive and dull, losing the flair that
had set her writing apart from other articles in its genre.

She
had also taken far too much time off work. This was usually due to nursing a
hangover or being simply too tired to be bothered with attending. Even the
times that she was there, she was always running late. Although Greg supported
her in any way he could, I suppose his patience had ultimately worn thin. He
had been left with no choice but to let her go. I thoroughly understood from
his point of view.

Jess
had continued on with the story of her day. She waved her hands in overly
dramatic gestures, as she called Greg all the names under the sun. The poor guy
didn’t deserve it. All he had ever done was look out for Jess and had given her
opportunities she was oblivious to.

Vodka
from her now almost empty cup spilled onto the expensive white leather sofa.
She looked down at it, unbothered. I leapt to my feet, searching the kitchen
for a cloth to mop it up, suddenly finding her nonchalant demeanour somewhat
frustrating. I tried to console her in the best way I could, telling her that
she would find something else but that she needed to pull herself together, and
she understood that only she could do that. We also talked about her going to
counselling, a subject that had been mentioned throughout the family on numerous
occasions recently. We were all so concerned about her well-being. She hadn’t
gotten over Dad’s death, that was obvious to see. The way that it had happened,
and the fact that she hadn’t been there when he died would always haunt her.

The
conversation had ended with her agreeing that counselling would be a good idea.
Although, I didn’t know how much of her willingness was just the drink talking.
I desperately hoped that this wasn’t the case. She had objected to the idea so
many times previously.

Finally,
Jess stopped crying and calmed down. She had started to look tired, and I could
see her eyes growing heavy. I helped her into the bedroom, and she staggered to
the bed to lie down on her side. I pulled the covers over her and drew down the
blinds to the windows overlooking the city below. The sun was just starting to
set and cast a bright yellow glow across the whole room. The room instantly
darkened from the shade, so I turned on the small bedside lamp. I stood next to
her until her eyes closed; she immediately fell asleep. I went back into the
living room and called Matt on his mobile, explaining what had happened. He was
on his way back from work so I knew he wouldn’t be long. I busied myself
tidying up the messy apartment. I cleaned the kitchen surfaces, then got rid of
the almost empty bottle of vodka that had still been standing on the kitchen
counter. I threw the small amount that was left in it down the sink, then put
the empty glass bottle in the outside recycling bin. It’s not that I was trying
to hide the evidence from Matt, but he didn’t need to witness the extent Jess’s
drinking had reached that day.

Matt
arrived home soon after and thanked me again for being there. He went into the
bedroom to check on Jess, who was still sleeping deeply. I felt truly sorry for
him, as I knew how much he loved Jess, but she was always pushing him away. He
couldn’t get through the barriers that she had built up around herself anymore.
He looked so tired. It had broken my heart to see him in the state that he was
in. I think that at that stage he had lost both the strength and determination
to keep trying anymore.

At
that point, I remember feeling guilty at the fact I was so happy with my own
life, while my sister’s was steadily falling apart around her. I left the apartment
that night feeling a strange sense of gratitude for what I had. I hoped and
prayed as I never had before, that Jess would get herself pulled back together.
Hopefully, with some professional help, her life would be built back up,
bringing back with it the woman that she used to be.

Unfortunately,
that never happened.

Back
in the present day, and at this moment in time, I don’t possess the same
feelings for Matt that I once had. Up until now, I had felt sorry for this broken
man who had lost the love of his life and had been left battling for a new
start, forced to face the world alone. Now, I’m not so sure that everything is
as black and white anymore. My confusion is growing, and with it I am beginning
to develop a feeling of unease around him, which I admit is totally
unjustified. I hadn’t yet allowed him to tell his side of the story, but I
can’t shake the feelings I am having. I’ve known Matt his whole life, but I am
now wondering if I truly know him at all. Once again, I scold myself about
these feelings, I know that there is not one ounce of real and substantial
evidence in sight.

Matt
comes back over to the sofa and hands me a cup of tea. I take a sip too hastily
and burn my tongue.
Ouch damn it!
Matt balances himself on the arm of
the chair opposite where I sit as he looks at me, cocking his head, as if
wordlessly questioning my reason for being here.

“I’ve
had another dream,” I say bluntly, wanting to get quickly to the point for both
our sakes. My voice is monotone. I barely recognise my own dark, heartless
sound. Matt looks concerned and moves forward towards me. I edge away from him.
The move is only slight, but I still think he’s noticed.

“The
recurring one you've been having... about Jess?” he asks, nodding, apparently
interested in what I have to say. I know that Ryan told him about the dreams a
while ago, so am not surprised by his knowledge of the matter.

“Yeah,
only it’s not recurring anymore,” I say, glaring at him hard and straight in
the eye, holding my stare. “The dream has moved on. It’s changed now and taken
a turn that has quite honestly freaked me out a bit.”

“What
kind of turn?” Matt asks, moving forward and putting his coffee down steadily
on the table, frowning. I resist the urge to back myself any further away from
him.

“Jess
called you, the night she fell, asking you to go and meet her. Were you there,
Matt? The night she died, did you go to see her?” I ask.

The
question snaps out of my mouth before I even have a chance to control my words.
One part of me instantly wants to take it back, to pretend nothing is wrong,
but another is relieved that I had the vigour to ask.

Matt’s
mouth drops open and a look of utter astonishment momentarily crosses his face.
He looks as though I just stabbed him in the chest with a red hot poker. I now
know I have his full attention as I proceed to tell him the whole dream, in
detail, describing the images just as I had seen them. I fall silent when I
finish, and wait anxiously for his reply.

Matt’s
response isn’t quite as I had pictured. After staying quiet for a few seconds,
he suddenly erupts, his face red with fury. I see a glimpse of a side of him
that I would never have imagined he possessed. He stands up, abruptly folding
his arms and then places one hand under his chin. He paces the floor back and
forth in front of me, before finally responding to my shock accusation.

“So
you think that I lied to the police, and to everybody else that I’d not seen
Jess that night?” he retorts. His voice is uncharacteristically loud, it’s tone
irate. “You know damn well that isn’t true Natalie! I hadn’t seen anything of
her since early that morning when she packed some stuff in a rucksack and went
to stay with your mum at the lake.”

I
knew that part was correct. Jess had called me on the morning of the day she
died, telling me that she was going to stay at Mums for a couple of days. She
didn’t go into any detail, but said that she and Matt had hit a brick wall,
that she had needed some time to clear her head. She thought it was the best
move for both of them. Matt had agreed.

“Jess
did call me that night and left me a message to meet her, but I was so hammered
I can’t even remember listening to it. Your brother even had to put me to bed,
I was so out of it.” He bows his head, lowering his aggravated voice and stares
at the floor. He fixes his gaze on one spot and doesn’t look up at me as he
speaks.

“I
was hurt. We had words before she left for the lake. As far as I was concerned
we were pretty much over. To be honest, I didn’t feel like talking to her,
never mind going all the way to Milton Point to meet her. In any case the state
I was in I don’t think she would have wanted to talk to me either.”

“What
did you argue about?” I ask directly. I knew they had argued that day, but had
never known the reason. Jess had died before she had the chance to talk to me
properly about the row she and Matt had.

Matt
pauses as if carefully working out an answer to give me. “The usual, just how
she was being distant and pushing me away again,” he says. He’s lying, I know
he is. I’ve known this man too long to be unable to spot the tell-tale signs
that he isn’t being truthful with me; his blatant unease and change in
mannerisms makes it evident. It’s like looking at him when he was twelve years
old. The time Jess broke the kitchen window with a football, and Matt took the
blame, unsuccessfully lying to our parents in case she got into trouble. His
ability to lie certainly hasn’t improved with age.

“Ryan
had put me to bed that night. It must have been about ten. The next thing I
knew, it was two in the morning, and the police were hammering on my front door
to tell me my wife was dead.”

I
sit back in my seat with my hands tightly grasped together as he continues,
wondering what they had argued about. It wasn’t their normal argument, that’s
just what Matt is leading me to believe. Whatever it had been must have been
bad enough for Jess to walk out and to make Matt feel that their marriage was
over. I want to ask him again about the reasons she left that day to stay with
Mum for a while, but I resist, knowing that it’s really none of my business.

“I
wished I had spoken to her that night,” says Matt, his voice now lowered. “I
listened to her voice mail the following morning. It was only then that I
understood how much she had needed to meet me. She was desperate for us to
talk, but by then it was too late. She was dead, and there was nothing I could
do to change that.”

So
she had called him that night. The dream was right.

Matt
slumps back down on the seat opposite me, holding eye contact as he rubs the
side of his face. His soft silky tone returns and he now talks calmly, back to
the Matt that I know.

“So
you see Natalie... your dream is just that—a dream. We all have them. Do you
think I don’t still dream about her? It’s just your imagination, making up
images and stories that seem real, but aren’t.”

He
laughs gently, a sudden sadness clouding his face. “I wish we hadn’t argued and
I wish I’d fought harder for her to stay. If I had, she wouldn’t have been at
Milton Point that night, and she wouldn’t have fallen.” A single tear slips
silently down his cheek. He rubs at it angrily.

I
don’t know what to say. I want to believe him, but at this moment I can’t. The
dream is fixed so sturdily in my mind that I can’t just forget it, as I would
like. I had hoped that having a word with Matt would have made me feel better,
but instead he has told me facts that I already knew and my confusion is just
stronger. The room is silent and stays that way for a good few minutes. It’s
Matt who finally breaks it.

“I
think you should leave Natalie,” he says unemotionally, rising to his feet. His
words are icy. I look up at him. My face is most probably full of guilt, but he
doesn’t falter. He turns away from me, swallowing hard. I take on board that I
am no longer welcome in his house and nod in response. I slowly move to my
feet, pick up my handbag and make my way past him to the door.

I
want to say I’m sorry, I want to apologise for making any false allegations.
However, until these dreams end or show me otherwise, I simply can’t do it.
Maybe I am just totally screwed in the head. Tears start to sting my eyes and I
bite my tongue in an attempt to try to delay them. I lower my gaze as I walk
out of the door. Matt follows me. I can feel his stare burning into my back as
I leave. I have overstepped the mark to a massive extent. I leave Matt’s
apartment silently. As I pass, I glance at the closed door of Ryan and Lola’s
apartment a little further down the corridor, before I make my way back
downstairs.

As
I head outside, back towards the car, I have an intense sensation that Matt is
still watching me. He’s most likely standing at the apartment window watching
me leave. I have the urge to turn back around to look up and face him. But for
reasons unknown to me, I'm too scared to. I’ve known Matt forever, but today
I’ve been forced to see a side to him unfamiliar to me before now. So, instead,
I keep my eyes focused forward until I’m safely back on the road and on my way
home.

I
call Kate as soon as I am in the car. It’s only just gone two o’clock, but I
know she has an earlier finish from work on a Monday. Josh is going to his
friend’s house for tea, so I don’t have to pick him up until after five. I
don’t fancy going back home to sit in the empty house alone and allow my mind
to start roaming again. Kate tells me to meet her at work as she will be
finishing soon, then we could go for something to eat in town. I gladly accept
the invitation. I need someone to talk to, a logical brain to inject some kind
of sense into this madness.

I
pull into a multi-storey car park near the salon where Kate works, then leave
the car and begin the short walk towards the salon. It’s now a cold and
miserable afternoon, and the wind is freezing as I turn the corner to the large
glass fronted salon on the main high street. I am glad of the warmth from the
door heaters hitting me as I enter. Just a few minutes from the car park and
I’m already numb through.

I
am politely greeted by the salon staff as I walk in. Of course, they all know
me well. A lot of them have worked here since Kate opened the salon four years
ago. It was a far cry from the small little corner hairdressing place that she
used to have. I am immeasurably proud of her for what she has achieved.

The
salon is large, filling two levels. Street level is where the hair styling is
done. The second tier above is used for beauty treatments. It is very
fashionable, and the reputation of the place just keeps on exceeding itself.
I’m sure Kate would have never imagined herself to own such a great place when
she first started out all those years ago as an inexperienced, but ambitious
teenager. Today, although Mondays are usually a quieter day, the atmosphere is
buzzing as stylists rush round. Loud pop music blares through the speakers.

An
overly confident, jolly voice interrupts my thoughts, cutting effortlessly
through the pumping dance music. “Well hello, gorgeous,” says Marcus as he
comes running down the spiral staircase near where I stand. He air kisses me on
both cheeks. I can’t help but chuckle at him. “It’s been far too long, Nat,” he
announces loudly, blatantly looking me up and down, then giving me a warm smile
followed by a nod of approval. “Are you here to see Kate?”

“Yeah,
is she nearly done?” I ask, smiling back at him.

Marcus
is Kate’s senior stylist and the salon’s deputy manager. He has been by her
side since day one. They are close friends, and he has always been there for
her, watching her back through good and bad. He is a likable character and his
camp and theatrical actions only add to his fabulous and flamboyant
personality. He’s a stunningly handsome man. Kate and I often joke that the
female population has missed out on a treat. He has recently been married in
Canada to his long term partner, Drew. He wastes no time in taking a seat next
to me in the salon waiting area, and proceeds to tell me all about their big
day.

I
glance around the busy salon. Eventually I spot Kate in a corner, finishing off
a young girl’s hair. Kate always looks so trendy for her years. Today she is
dressed all in black, her tight vest top showing off her curvaceous figure and
flawless pale skin. Her eye makeup is dark and smokey. Her long hair is tousled
and messy. She pulls off the sexy, just got out of bed look faultlessly. She
holds a mirror to the back of the young girl’s perfectly curled locks and the
girl nods approvingly. Kate pats the girl on both shoulders before pointing in
the direction of Charlotte at the front desk, to take care of her from here.
Her eyes soon catch mine, and she signals with her fingers that she will be two
minutes, then heads upstairs to get her belongings. I settle in next to Marcus
as he produces his phone and starts to flick through his many wedding photos.

*

An
hour later and we are sitting in a local pub that I know well, based near Wallis
and Spoors. This morning seems so long ago. I briefly wonder how Richard’s
meetings went, and what time Sophie will manage to finish work; she had told me
she had quite a bit to do when I left.

The
pub has been refurbished since I was last here. Its once traditional English
country theme has now been replaced by a more modern minimalistic finish. I
used to meet regularly here with Kate and Jess, when we had all worked in the
city. We liked coming here after work to vent off about our crappy days, making
each other feel better if one of us had suffered a worse day than the others.

I
sit down at an empty table near the window while Kate goes to get the drinks. I
can remember us all in the same spot laughing and joking together. I can still
hear Jess’s loud, unmistakable and infectious laugh so clearly in my mind.

A
short while later, we sit with food in front of us as I try my best to make
small talk. Kate tucks into an enormous burger with fries while I pick
mindlessly at a tuna topped baked potato.

“So
are you going to tell me what’s up?” Kate asks, finally finishing her enormous
meal and wiping her hands on a napkin. She raises it to her lips, dabbing away
a small spot of ketchup on the corner of her mouth. I smile at her ability to
read me like an open book, even when I’m trying to remain closed. I push my
half eaten food to the side and take a sip of my orange juice as I start to
tell Kate the story. She already knows about the dream that I've had since
Jess’s funeral, but is naturally shocked by the new addition to the series.
Once finished, I lean back and wait for her reaction.

“Oh
my God,” says Kate. Her eyes are wide as she takes a large sip from her coke
then puts her glass back down on the cardboard coaster, not taking her eyes off
my own. “Do you think Jess was really there? Do you believe that these dreams
are connected to her in some way?”

“I
really don’t know,” I answer. “All I know is this one felt so much stronger
than the others have. I just don’t know what to make of it. I mean we
all
have
dreams... right?”

Kate
nods. “Yeah, but they aren’t normally accompanied by our dead sister’s image
taking over our own body, then manifesting itself in our hallway mirror,” she
says quickly, her tone serious, not mincing her words, as frank as ever. “You
hear about things like this all the time,” she adds, a little too excited for
my liking.

“Like
what?”

“You
know, sisters still being linked when one of them dies, especially when they
were close. You and Jess were close, weren’t you?”

“Yeah,
very close.”

Kate
nods, picking up the straw in her glass and sucking on the end of it
thoughtfully.

“I
watched this thing on TV the other night, about spirits not being able to cross
over until they have sent a message to a loved one.”

I
laugh aloud, almost choking on my drink in the process. “This is real Kate, not
some made up TV show,” I reply, “Don't be so daft.”

Kate
has been into all things supernatural for all the years that I have known her.
She regularly visits numerous fortune tellers and spiritualists, believing that
these people with so-called ‘special powers’ will tell her which way her life
will lead, and communicate messages from the other side of the grave. I, on the
other hand, have always been sceptical regarding anyone like that, firmly
believing that they are preying on vulnerable and naive people to make a quick
fortune.

Kate
truly believes that Jess is trying to send me a message in some way, she’s been
telling me this for a while. I find this very hard to believe, and laugh off
her suggestion every time she mentions it. Although, now a small part of me can
see the point she has been trying to make. She agrees that I did the right
thing by going to see Matt. Even though it was uncomfortable and may have
caused a rift between us, it needed to be done. I wouldn’t have settled until I
asked him if he had gone to meet Jess that night.

I
feel a lot better after speaking to Kate. I hug her goodbye as we leave the
pub. We arrange to meet up at hers next week. She tells me to call her if I
have any more dreams or even if I just need someone to talk to. I thank her for
her kindness and thank God that I have a friend like her at times like these.
It’s starting to get dark outside as I get back in the car and leave the city,
heading towards Josh’s friend’s house to pick him up.

*

It’s
raining lightly as I turn up the deserted country road that leads to our house.
Although I love living here, I often wish that there was more street lighting.
The winter nights are so gloomy. It always feels a bit creepy in the darkness,
especially on a miserable night like this one.

I
reach the end of the long road. As I turn onto our drive, I notice the
motorcycle parked outside
the
garage door. My brother stands in the shadows, leaning against the bike. I can
see the smoke from his cigarette as he puts out the leftover stub under his
booted foot.

I
get out of the car and open the back door for Josh. As I near the front door,
our security light clicks on and brightly illuminates the whole driveway. Ryan
pushes his weight off the bike, puts his helmet on the seat, and slowly heads
over towards me.

My
brother has always been a keen biker. It’s a passion he has held since he was
seventeen and passed his test, much to the disapproval of our mum and dad. He
possesses a streak in his personality which attracts him toward anything with a
thrill attached, rendering him entirely immune to the dangers likely to be
linked. Much like Jess had. Give Ryan a high bridge and a bungee cord he would
be at the front of the queue. Jess was just as bad. She had loved adventure and
the excitement of something new, driven by impulse and spontaneity. I’m known
as the safe and sensible one out of the three of us, quite happy to stay
cautious and danger free. Boring, I suppose.

At
one point in time, not so long ago, Ryan spent more time going out biking than
anything else. Now he doesn’t use the motorbike as much as he would like due to
his job, but makes sure he does at any chance he gets. It’s become a regular
pastime for him to jump on it at a weekend and head off. Usually, he ends up at
our mum’s on a Sunday afternoon. Secretly, I think he worries about her being
alone, and he does try to see her as much as he can, as do I.

Josh
soon notices who our surprise visitor is and runs over to greet him.

“Uncle
Ryan!” he shouts, throwing his school backpack to the ground. He runs towards
him, raising his arms as he reaches my brother.

“Is
Liam with you?” Josh asks, looking around as if Ryan has hidden his cousin
somewhere.

“Hey
Josh,” Ryan says, smiling. He picks Josh up and pops him straight onto his
leather clad shoulders as if he weighs no more than a feather. “No, sorry
Liam’s at home, but you’ll see him soon, I promise.”

“Aww.
Can I have a ride on your motorbike?” Josh asks, looking behind Ryan at the
bike expectantly, clinging tightly around Ryan’s neck.

“Maybe
when you’re eighteen,” Ryan replies. He pops Josh down next to me on the
doorstep, as I frantically search my handbag for my door keys. I can’t bring
myself to look up at Ryan; I can already tell by a brief look at his face that
he isn’t happy with me. His intense stare doesn’t leave my face. I can feel an
embarrassed flush creeping up my cheeks as I eventually fish out my keys from
my bag and unlock the door.

I
rush to turn off the burglar alarm. Ryan follows me in, still not saying
anything, and closes the door behind him as I punch in the four-digit code to
silence the noise. I go into the lounge and take off my coat, throwing it on
the sofa, then swiftly turn to face him. He glares at me hard and sighs loudly
as Josh runs in behind him, grabbing hold of his leg playfully. Ryan looks down
at his nephew and rubs his head affectionately.

“Josh
darling, why don’t you go and play in your room for a little bit, while Mum and
Uncle Ryan talk, okay?” I ask, quietly.

Josh
promptly lets go of Ryan’s leg and heads upstairs, without any protest against
my request. Even at his young age, I think he can sense the atmosphere
developing in the room. I know fine well that Matt has been in touch with Ryan,
and that’s his reason for being here now.

Ryan
passes where I stand and sits down on the chair opposite me.

“What
were you thinking Nat?” He sounds slightly disgusted. I feel like a little girl
who has done something naughty, waiting for punishment. I stand still in front
of him, unable to meet his stare as he continues.

“Don’t
you think Matt has already been through enough lately? Without you bringing
even more shit to his door?” he asks, raising his eyebrows and folding his
arms, waiting for an answer. I eventually pluck up the courage to look at him.
“He called me when I was on my way home from work, asking me to meet him
because he wanted to talk. He was really upset, so I went straight along to his
apartment. Little did I know that it was you who had him in such a state, and
for what, Nat? A stupid fucking dream?” His voice is still quiet, but he’s
clearly outraged. I can’t remember the last time my brother swore at me. It’s
not a pleasant feeling at all.