The Stranger Within (4 page)

His face disappears and now I am back in the delivery room, giving birth to my silent baby. I reopen my eyes and summon the strength to continue. “And after that I haemorrhaged. They had to do an emergency hysterectomy.”

              Heavy silence fills the room. They were not expecting this, I’m sure.

              “I’m sorry,” DS Connolly says. “That must have been hard.”

              Beside him, his colleague offers me a half-smile, one that says she is also sorry, but she remains silent.

              After a moment, DS Connolly resumes his questioning. “So you’re saying everything was good between you and your husband?”

              Still squeezing back tears, I struggle to get the words out. “No…things were better than good.”

              Silence fills the room once more and I wonder if it’s because they are unsure what to ask next. There will be so many things they want to know and, even for them, it will be a struggle to form a logical order. Logic does not come into this.

              “So I take it things got worse after you tried to change everything in the house?” DS Connolly says.

              I nod, then remember I need to speak up for the tape recorder. “Yes. Much, much worse.”

Chapter Four

For three days I endure the boys’ silence, and somehow it is worse than their snide comments and digs, worse than their refusal to listen or obey. Worse even than their cruel disappearing act. It gives them power over me because there is nothing I can do, no way to force words to leave their mouths.

              James and I have a long talk and he apologises for the boys’ behaviour. “I should have changed things around the house ages ago. It wasn’t fair on you to live here with everything how Lauren had it. I’m sorry, I just didn’t think. I’ve told the boys it’s staying how you want it.”

As he speaks I see the pain in his eyes. He is caught in the middle and knows he can’t please everyone. “They’ll come around. It’s just hard for them; this house is all they’ve got left of their mum.”

My heart aches for their loss but it can’t be good for any of us to live with Lauren’s ghost. Even so, I know she will not go anywhere. She will always be in this house, in my head, even in my bed. How can she not be all around when she is so much a part of James? But there is no way I can vocalise these thoughts; they must stay safely contained in my head.

              Each morning, the sight of the bright citrus walls brings a smile to my face. A small victory. Something in this house is finally mine.

              But the boys are not content to let things lie. James knows now that I overslept the other morning and didn’t wake them up. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks. “It’s no big deal. In fact, it’s about time they got themselves up for school.” I grab his hand and squeeze it, to let him know he is a good man.

              We still haven’t gone out for dinner, but James promises we will tonight. “It will be lovely,” he says, “just the two of us.” So, trying to be positive, I allow myself to look forward to the evening.

              I spend the morning working on my assignment. Immersed in learning, I am filled with excitement that soon I will be helping people who have nobody else to turn to. I think of Dad. How he would never consider talking to anyone about anything. Once I am qualified, perhaps I can offer him something, but I know it will have come too late.

              At lunchtime I tear myself away from the laptop to make a peanut butter sandwich. I am still eating when James calls to tell me Emma has offered to babysit. I would prefer Mrs Simmons, or anyone else, but at least Emma is not unkind to me. A bit cold, judgemental even, but not cruel. And it is good for the boys to be around her; she was Lauren’s best friend and practically an aunt to them so that is all that matters.

              By three p.m. I have finished my assignment, and I submit it online. As soon as I’ve clicked the send button, the familiar panic sets in. What if I’ve not written an essay at all, but typed the same word over and over until it made up two thousand words? What if that word is obscene? I quickly reopen the document I’ve just sent and read through it again, checking every line, just to be sure.

              Now it is twenty past three: time to go downstairs and greet the boys. All I’ll get is silence, of course, but I can’t give up. I am the adult, I need to fix this. Wouldn’t I feel exactly the same if I were in their position? If Mum had died instead of walking out on Dad, wouldn’t I hate any new wife Dad might have found? And I am not Lauren. My stomach twists in knots at this thought. I am so different from her. From everything I’ve heard, she was calm and poised, while I am panicky and scatty. She made people love her, while all I do is inspire cold silence and arguments. And she would never have accidentally caused the boys harm. How can I hope to live up to her perfection?

              But still I stand at the door, holding it open while Dillon and Luke enter, engrossed in conversation, turning blind eyes to me. I clear my throat. “How was school today?”

              No reply.

              I try again. “Anyone like some orange juice? Smooth with no bits in it.”

              They dump their bags under the coat rack, instead of hanging them on hooks, and bustle into the kitchen, shutting the door on me. Even though I’ve been expecting this treatment to continue, it cuts like a blade. I am lost and alone, in a place that’s supposed to be my home. I know I have James, and he loves me, but we are not the family I imagined we’d be. I didn’t expect it to be easy, but I never thought it would hurt like this.

Tonight I want to look my best. Not just for James, but for me too. I choose the cobalt-blue dress I wore on our first proper date; it’s demure, but the high slit at the side hints at possibilities. James’ eyes were glued to me all night when I wore it last and I wonder if it will have the same effect tonight? Or perhaps I have changed beyond recognition. Externally I may look the same but it’s not just about that. It’s about James’ deeper feelings for me.

              I think of Tabitha’s flawless make-up as I apply mine slowly, careful not to smudge my lipstick. With the hair straightener, I iron out the annoying wavy kinks in my hair. I am pleased with the result and I almost feel human again. I am more than a detested, fake mother.

              “Wow, look at you!” James appears behind me, grinning from ear to ear. He has probably forgotten I can look half-decent. “You look hot.” He kisses me and a layer of lipstick transfers to his mouth. “I need to have a quick shower. Will you let Emma in? She’ll be here any minute.”

              I almost say I’m surprised she doesn’t have her own key – this feels more like her home than mine – but I stop myself. Tonight I will be positive. Emma does have more history here than I do and there’s nothing I can do about that.

              “And can you tell the boys they’ve had enough TV now? It’s homework time.”

              All day I have been expecting James to cancel our dinner. It would be easy for Tabitha to arrange a last-minute photo shoot and James would never sacrifice a work opportunity. But he is here now and we will soon be alone.

              Downstairs, the boys are still playing their hurtful game and don’t look up from the television when I appear. “Okay, it’s homework time.” My voice is firm, completely at odds with how I feel inside.

              Neither of them moves. The canned laughter from the comedy programme they are watching feels as if it is directed at me, and I’m sure Luke is smirking. I try again. “Your dad says it’s homework time. Now.” This time they get up, with exaggerated slowness, but still don’t look at me as they leave the room.

              “Aunty Emma’s here!” Luke suddenly shouts, and they both run to the front door. I haven’t heard the bell ring and wonder if they are lying. Another of their pranks. But they can’t know I’m uneasy about Emma.

              Through the glass I see her shadow, tall and bulky. Dillon flings the door open and she steps inside, ruffling their hair and throwing her arms around them. The scene is a complete contrast from whenever I am the one standing at the door.

              After a moment, Emma notices me and nods. “Callie. How are you?”

              “Very well, thanks. You?”

              “Great. Busy at work. The hospital is so understaffed I feel as if I’m doing three people’s work.” She shuffles further in and closes the door, Luke clinging to her as if he will never let go.

              I admire Emma for being a nurse. I couldn’t do what she does, taking care of people’s physical needs day after day. It is painfully intimate and I have no stomach for strangers’ blood and sickness. She is, ultimately, a good woman. Just as her best friend was.

              I decide to try an experiment. “Boys, homework, remember? You can talk to Emma when you’ve finished.”

              They both ignore me and turn to Emma, expectant looks on their faces. She looks at them, then back to me, as if trying to identify the struggle taking place. “Okay,” she says. “Listen to Callie. Upstairs, finish your homework and then we’ll have a session on the PlayStation. Okay?”

              The boys grab their bags and rush upstairs, Luke howling with excitement. Part of me wants to believe they are putting on an act for my benefit, but I know it’s not that. This is a genuine show of love for Emma.

              Once the boys have disappeared, she asks where James is.

“Good,” she says, when I tell her he’s in the shower. “We’ve got time for a quick chat then.”

In the kitchen, Emma sets about making us coffee as if this is her own house. She knows where everything is, and is unashamed to root through the cupboards. But how can I stop her when she must have done this a thousand times in the past, long before I came along? I sit on one of the stools and chew my lip. There must be a reason she wants to talk to me before James emerges, but I’ve no idea what it is.

“One sugar, isn’t it?”

I nod and she places a mug in front of me before perching on a stool. She sips her coffee, watching me for a moment, then stares at her lap, as if struggling to spit out her words.

“Look, I owe you an apology. I haven’t given you a chance and I fully take the blame for that.”

I am taken aback by her statement. “I…um…”

“It’s my fault. I’m just overprotective of James. But I see how happy you make him, Callie. So, again, I’m sorry.”

“Well, let’s have a fresh start, then.”

“There’s just one thing, though. Dillon called me the other day. He claimed you forgot to cook them dinner and said he had to go and buy them some fish and chips with his last bit of pocket money. Now, I know that’s rubbish, but I’m worried about their behaviour. About what’s happening to all of you.”

And then I open up to the woman I have always felt uncomfortable around, telling her things I haven’t even told James. Explaining my daily struggle with the boys.

Emma listens patiently until I’ve finished. “Look, of course it’s hard. This happened so quickly for them and they’re resisting you at every step. But what you’ve got to think about is what it’s doing to James. All this arguing and tension. He’s stuck in the middle with no idea how to keep everyone happy. I just think it’s putting a lot of pressure on him.”

I watch her mouth moving as she speaks and I know she is right. I shouldn’t be running to James every time the boys misbehave. I need to sort it out myself. Keep him out of it as much as I can. For his sake. “You’re right.” I say. “So does James talk to you about this a lot?” I try to keep my voice casual, to hide the fact my stomach is flipping.

Emma nods. “Yes, he does. But it’s only because he doesn’t want to upset you. It’s not that he’s going behind your back or anything.”

“I know.”

“It’s just such a difficult situation. But he knows you’re trying your best for Dillon and Luke.” Emma takes another sip of coffee and puts down her mug. I still haven’t touched mine. “Look, I know Lauren was my best friend, but I just want James to be happy. I was thrilled when he told me he’d met someone, even though it was quite soon. Even the age gap didn’t factor in, but then...” She trails off, probably remembering Luke’s face that day. The wails that wouldn’t stop, even hours afterwards. “The accident, Callie. I just can’t get my head around that.”

“I –”

“It doesn’t matter. I just don’t think it’s helped things.” She stares into her mug and avoids looking at me. Clearly it
does
matter. It matters a lot.

Chapter Five

My mood is shot by the time we get to the restaurant, but I try my best to focus on James. I am lucky to have him. He is a good man, a good husband. I need to cling to that, and hope the rest will fall into place.

              We are at our favourite Indian restaurant, in Wimbledon Village. James wanted us both to have a drink so he suggested we walk here and get a taxi home later. I was happy with this plan because it meant leaving the house earlier, escaping from the boys’ hatred, but now my ankles are sore, the skin raw from rubbing against my new shoes.

              “We don’t do this enough,” James says, studying the menu. After a moment he looks up and smiles at me. “D’you remember we came here on our first date? Our first official date, that is. We’d had plenty of coffees together in The Coffee Bean, hadn’t we? I was so nervous, Callie, my palms were sweating.”