Now I’m starting to feel queasy. ‘I think it’s best you just say what’s on your mind, Matthew.’
‘How close were you to Cary?’
Considering I haven’t seen or heard from Cary for a little over four months now, I’d say not very.
‘We understood each other, at the time.’
Oh dear, that sounds awful.
‘I know you haven’t seen each other in a while, but forgive me, I don’t have the full story. I haven’t seen him since the third week of July, myself.’
That’s just before the weekend I stayed over at Cressida’s.
‘Is there a problem?’
‘Yes, but it’s complicated. Look, I will level with you. I think he’s been in the house alone for much of that time and I’m worried about him.’
My head begins to spin.
‘Alone? What about Nicholas? And isn’t Cressida back there with him now?’
A muffled sound of movement, like the phone almost being dropped or something, stops him. When he resumes, his tone is anxious.
‘I’ve just found out that he let Nicholas go.’
What? I’m stunned. ‘That’s awful! I can’t believe Cressida has allowed it.’
‘She doesn’t know, Leesa, and neither of them know I’m turning to you for help. There isn’t time to explain everything in detail as I only have a couple of minutes, but there’s a big favour I need to ask of you. I have nowhere else to turn. I can’t inflict this worry on Laurence and Sally as she’s in hospital at the moment. The baby could come at any time and Laurence has his hands full. I rang Robert, who recently returned from a trip abroad, because I still can’t get any reply from Cary at all. Robert has walked up to the house several times over the past two days but can’t get a response, either. This morning Robert even waylaid the postman, who confirmed Cary has been there, as he signed for a letter one day last week. I just need to know he’s alright. I wondered if you might elicit some sort of response from him. I’m indisposed at the moment, or I’d be round there battering on his door, myself.’
Clearly, Matthew thinks there was more between Cary and I than was the case.
‘Matthew, I seriously doubt Cary will respond to any contact from me after all this time. He cut me off after a misunderstanding without giving me a chance to explain. Perhaps he needs some time alone. I doubt he will ignore you for long.’
Matthew clears his throat, nervously. ‘I’m waiting for the doctor to arrive and it might involve some running around afterwards, or a little trip to the hospital. Leesa, I wouldn’t ask unless I was really worried about him and I am.’
Matthew can’t hide the anxiety in his voice and it sounds like he has problems of his own to contend with.
‘I’m sorry to hear that, Matthew, and I do hope you get well quickly. Of course, I’ll try to get hold of him and I will report back. But I really do think that Cressida is probably the only person he will respond to.’
He exhales slowly, as if I’ve just taken a huge weight off his shoulders. ‘Let’s hope that’s not the case. Thank you, Leesa, you have no idea what this means to me. I’m being pulled in all directions and even though I’m terribly worried about Cary, I’m virtually stuck here, unable to travel very far.’
Ironically, Cary was worried about Cressida’s health, when maybe it was Matthew he should have been watching more closely. That’s so sad to hear and obviously Cary is totally unaware of the situation.
*
After leaving two messages and several texts with no sign of a response, my annoyance is growing. How selfish is Cary, cutting everyone off like this, fully aware that his family will be worrying about what’s going on with him? I do the only other thing I can think of to force his hand: I jump in the car and head to Porthkerry.
Halfway there, the Bluetooth suddenly kicks in and it’s Zack.
‘Hi Leesa. We’re waiting for Abbie’s ankle to be plastered up. She’s fine, but it’s quite a bad fracture and she’s totally immobile at present.’
‘I’m so sorry to hear that, Zack. Is there anything I can do?’
‘No. There will be more waiting around and then when we get home we’ll figure out how we’re going to cope. It’s a bit of a nightmare and we’re lucky that Abbie’s parents could step in and are looking after Tilly overnight.’
‘Well, don’t even think about work. You have a nice run of time off now until after Christmas. I was going to hand you a cheque at our festive lunch tomorrow. It’s a Christmas bonus and it comes with my grateful thanks. I’ll do a bank transfer instead and I hope it will give some cheer after what you’ve been through today.’
‘Leesa, that’s really nice of you and much appreciated, believe me. I feel bad as there are a few things I wanted to wrap up before the hols began. I thought I had another two days to get it done and now this happens. I assure you that I will be jumping online as soon as I can, to get that sorted. Have a great Christmas, Leesa, and I’ll see you in the New Year, then.’
A little windfall is always handy, especially at this time of the year. It feels good to be able to recognise hard work in a financial way.
I turn off the main road and begin travelling along the narrow lane. Even before I catch sight of the extended porch, with the impressive stone lions standing guard, my stomach begins to flutter nervously.
In the gloom of the early evening I’m surprised there is no welcoming light to guide visitors to the front door. Suddenly, the anger I’ve been carrying around with me over Cary’s ambivalent attitude towards other people, rises with a vengeance. Matthew is worried sick about him but does he care? No.
Okay, I know why Cary has been avoiding me: because he’s egotistical, self-obsessed and a coward when it comes to facing up to his feelings. So instead of admitting that he’s afraid to commit, he picks on something ridiculous, like thinking there’s something going on between Tim and me. And rather than admit that, he accuses me of using Tim as a… what did Cary say? Shield? But the more I think about the situation, the odder it becomes and I know that’s part of the reason I’m here. I need to hear him say there is no us and it never was real because I’m done with being dragged back into his life when he messes up.
It’s obvious that someone is home, as I can see a solitary light coming from the winter sitting room. Pulling onto the gravelled drive, I notice Cary’s car isn’t here. Then, I wonder if leaving the light on is an added security measure and he isn’t here at all, but travelling abroad on either work or pleasure. How am I supposed to know what’s going on?
When I get out of the car, I stand for a few moments looking up at the façade of this beautiful old building, grand even in the darkness. One I never thought I’d see up close, ever again. How can I feel nostalgic for a life that was never mine?
I ring the bell and stand back, but nothing happens. After a few minutes I ring again. Then I hammer on the door with my fist. Still nothing. The jacket I’m wearing isn’t very thick and I shiver as the cold night air starts to permeate through. Why none of the garden lights are switched on, I don’t know, but I figure my best bet is to walk around to the back door. In the dark it’s not quite as easy as I thought it would be, and once or twice I stumble, having to save myself from ending up sprawled across the frozen dirt.
There are no lights on at the rear of the house at all. It’s beginning to feel a little creepy if I’m honest and the last thing I want is to be wandering around in the dark if I’m here all alone. Even if I cried out for help, there are no neighbours within earshot. Instinctively, I keep going, using the wall as my guide and testing one step ahead rather gingerly with my foot before advancing. Eventually, I can reach out to grab the backdoor handle to check it and, rather shockingly, it turns. With much trepidation, I step inside. I have absolutely no idea where the light switch is located. All I can do is call out and hope someone is home. Someone who belongs here.
‘Cary? It’s Leesa. You didn’t hear the doorbell.’ I call out in the shadowy darkness, as loudly as I
can.
Suddenly, a quiet voice rears up out of the gloom, making me jump.
‘I heard the doorbell. I didn’t want to answer it.’
Well, hello to you, too.
‘Matthew asked me to drop by to see if you are alright. Is there a reason you’re walking around in the dark? Is there a problem with the electrics?’
The downstairs switches must be working, as there is a slight glimmer of light seeping in around the edge of the partially open kitchen door. It’s not enough to lighten the room and my eyes are still adjusting after the pitch-black darkness. I have no idea where he’s standing. Without warning I hear a click and suddenly everything is bathed in light.
‘No. Drop by?’
I squint at him, trying not to look shocked at what I see. Cary is unshaven and has been for a couple of weeks by the look of it. It’s strange seeing him with facial hair and he has quite a defined beard and moustache now. Overall, he looks haggard; wearing a crumpled shirt and jeans, most unlike him. Has he been sleeping in his clothes?
He’s staring back at me, a blank expression on his face.
‘Robert called around, too. You haven’t been answering your phone and Matthew was worried. Is your phone working?’
Now he looks back at me, rather confused. ‘I didn’t know.’
It’s obvious something is wrong here. It’s not simply the state he’s in, or the state the kitchen is in now I’m able to look around. But Cary’s reactions are slow and I catch sight of a collection of empty wine bottles.
‘You’d better sit down before you fall down. How much alcohol have you had? I’ll put the kettle on and start clearing up this mess.’ The smell isn’t at all pleasant and I’m shocked he would let things deteriorate to this point. ‘Have you eaten anything other than takeaways since you’ve been staying here?’
I slip off my jacket, fill the kettle and begin binning the rubbish that has been abandoned on virtually every available work surface. And this is a big kitchen. Some of the pizza boxes are empty but there’s also a lot of wasted food here. It’s as if he ordered in, then changed his mind when it arrived.
Fifteen minutes and one large mug of coffee later, Cary is still sitting at the island and continues to watch me, not a word having passed his lips. I’ve disposed of three black sacks full of rubbish and the worktops have been cleaned with an antibacterial spray and buffed.
‘Have you eaten today?’ I ask him and after an inordinate pause he answers.
‘No.’ There’s another pause, then a good couple of minutes later, ‘I don’t think so.’
What’s even more worrying is that he needs to stop and consider what I’m saying as if the words aren’t making any sense to him.
There’s little point in questioning Cary while he’s in his alcohol-induced haze. Instead I dive into the freezer, pull out some bread to defrost in the microwave and then grab some butter and cheese from the fridge.
‘Cheese on toast coming up,’ I inform him.
‘I think I ate yesterday,’ he adds.
He doesn’t seem aware that his behaviour is odd and I hope the caffeine and some food in his stomach will rally him. I’m wondering now whether this is the result of having sunk into some sort of depressive state. His face is thinner and his skin has a sort of pallor to it. I wish I was more clued up but the truth is that inside I’m panicking. I’m the last person anyone would call in when someone is ill. As I gaze at him, he seems unaware of my concerns and I wonder if he even knows what day it is.
When I place the plate in front of him he automatically picks up the knife and fork to begin eating. His movements are slow and methodical. It’s as if he’s simply going through the motions because that’s what you do when someone puts food in front of you. I tell him I’m popping to the cloakroom, but instead I head out into the hallway, turning on lights as I go. Just inside the front door I locate the switches for the outside lights and flick them on, dialling Matthew’s number as I walk. What if I’ve misjudged the situation? His speech isn’t slurred, so maybe alcohol isn’t at fault here. A cold chill begins to work its way around my body and what I feel is a real sense of fear.
‘It’s Leesa. I’m here with Cary and there’s something wrong with him. Can you come over, right now? I’m not sure if he needs a doctor.’
‘I have a bit of a situation going on here and I’m waiting for a nurse to arrive. I’ll give Robert a call and tell him it’s urgent. He’ll get there quicker than I can, anyway. Just keep Cary talking, Leesa. And thank you, my dear. This is so unlike him that I feared something was wrong. I’m more grateful than you can know.’
I hurry back to check on Cary, but he’s still eating and hasn’t seemed to notice my absence at all. The seconds tick by until eventually the sound of the doorbell makes me physically jump; my nerves are on edge and my hands are trembling.
‘Robert, thank you for coming over so promptly. I’m really scared. At first, I thought he was simply hungover, so I made him drink some coffee and eat something. Now I’m wondering if that was a huge mistake. Most of the takeaway food hanging around was almost untouched, so he hasn’t been eating. What if he’s taken an overdose? I’ve been here probably half an hour, though, and he wouldn’t still be conscious if that was the case – would he?’
‘I doubt it. Sounds like we should phone for a doctor, though, just in case. Let’s take a look at him first.’
Robert’s presence is calming and the sensation of panic subsides a little. I hadn’t realised how fast I was breathing and I try to control it, gradually slowing down my pounding heartbeat.
As we walk into the kitchen Cary slowly turns his head in our direction.
‘Cary, my friend, how are you doing?’ Robert greets him, cheerily.
Cary frowns and the long pause causes Robert to shoot me a look of concern.
‘Robert. Why are you here?’
I’m already dialling the emergency number as Robert leans in to me and whispers, ‘Doctor it is, then.’
‘I was passing by,’ Robert explains. He walks over to Cary, taking the seat next to him.
I turn and head out into the hallway as a voice answers and the questioning begins. A few minutes later Robert joins me just as I’m about to hang up. The man on the other end asks if there is anyone here with me who can look out for the vehicle. I confirm, grateful for the way he has drawn information out of me when my head is all over the place.
‘Someone’s on their way. Robert, do you know what’s been going on here?’
He turns to look at me.
‘I haven’t a clue, Leesa. Wish I did, but I only flew back from Italy a couple of days ago. Matthew rang me yesterday and asked me to pop in and check on Cary. I walked up three times during the day and twice again this morning, but there was no answer. And no sign of any movement inside the house when I peered through the windows. Cary’s car wasn’t parked up, so naturally I assumed he wasn’t here. It must be in the garage. You stay with Cary, I’ll have a quick check around upstairs before I head up to the top road. If it’s not just alcohol, there might be pill bottles or something we can show the doctor when he arrives. I don’t think for one moment it’s an overdose but best keep him talking if you can.’
*
It seems like I wait forever, as I sit next to Cary. Having convinced him that he was better off lying on the bed, he said he couldn’t stand having the light on and we’re sitting in the gloomy darkness.
He fell into a troubled sleep within minutes, so deep that twice I’ve leant over him to check that he’s still breathing. Suddenly, his voice shatters the eerie silence.
‘It’s all wrong,’ he yells. ‘It wasn’t my fault… I screwed up…’ His words tail off, but he lashes out with his left arm, as if pushing someone away. ‘I didn’t tell her,’ he half-sobs. ‘I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I was scared and now I’m so cold.’
I jump up as Cary twists and turns, trying to avoid his flailing arms while I tuck the duvet in around him for comfort and warmt
h. This is beyond painful to watch. I wonder if he thinks I’m Cressida?
‘I love her, Grandma,’ he adds, softly, confirming my suspicions. ‘I love her and that scares me because she’s hurting. What if I hurt her too? What if I hurt her… too?’
He lapses into silence and I brush away a solitary tear that trickles down my cheek, as I throw my arms around his body to keep him warm.
31
The Rescue Remedy… is Me
‘You have no idea what you’ve put me through in the last two days, Cary Anderson,’ I admonish. ‘And now you wake up demanding a bacon sandwich! What do you think I am – your personal nurse, general dogsbody and now a chef, rolled into one?’
‘Be grateful it’s only a short-term position,’ Cary laughs, pressing down on the bed to lever himself into a sitting position. ‘However, I know what I am and that is a very lucky man.’
I place a bottle of mineral water in his hands, an empty glass and a sachet from the tray, and instruct him to drink it before I return.
‘Well, I’m deadly serious when I say that if there was anyone else who could sit with you I would be driving up that lane right now. This is definitely not my calling.’ My voice softens. ‘But I am relieved you aren’t rambling any more. You are hard enough work when you’re being your usual, stubborn self but that was something else.’
I’m also thankful the doctor didn’t whisk him off to hospital but trusted me to look after him. Who would have thought that would happen? It was scary but I didn’t want to leave his side for one single moment. I turn my back on Cary as he begins to pour water into the glass, and head downstairs.
Cooking in someone else’s kitchen is a nightmare, especially one as grand as this. But having taken delivery of a large online order to put a stop to the takeaway meals, I’m the official chef by default. But it does feel surreal. I remember watching Cary preparing lunch and not being able to visualise myself ever feeling at ease here. And certainly not finding myself in charge of the cooker, but here I am. Hopefully, tomorrow Cary will be fully rested and back on his feet; my nursing stint will have come to an end, thankfully, and I will have survived. Miraculously, so will have the patient. But this has been my worst nightmare come to life.
Magic Under the Mistletoe Page 31
