Love Until It Hurts

by Fiona Blakemore

  She rises, and everyone stands. Then she picks up her notes, smiles at Ruth, and with a bow of her head, turns and disappears. The court usher holds an arm out towards Ruth.

  Ruth’s legs feel hollow and, as she stands, she can feel herself swaying. As soon as they are out of sight of the public, and back within the confines of the Family Room, Val gives her a hug.

  ‘Accidental death?’ stutters Ruth. She has so many questions still. Forged prescriptions. His acute anxiety. His financial dealings. Her eyes prickle with tears.

  ‘Look at it this way,’ says Val, ‘it’s another hurdle completed.’ Her words recede as Ruth sinks into a soft chair.

  The door opens and the usher appears again, radiating calm and benevolence. She hands Ruth a leaflet. ‘If you have any further questions, my dear, this leaflet may help.’ Ruth takes this as her cue. They need to leave. The Family Room is needed for relatives connected to the next case.

  ‘Listen, you guys,’ says Val, as she presses the car keys into Mike’s hand. ‘I’m desperate for a wee. You go without me and I’ll see you back at the car.’ She disappears.

  The colour has drained from his Mike’s face. ‘Accidental death,’ he echoes. He looks at Ruth, his eyebrows knotted. ‘I suppose that’s the only verdict she could reach, given all the facts. You know, the bad weather conditions, the state of the car, the fact the shrinks had said he wasn’t suicidal.’ He moves closer to Ruth and hugs her tightly. As she brushes his cheek it feels sweaty, sticky. ‘I’m sorry, Ruth. I’m really sorry.’

  Ruth’s emotions jumble, like odd socks tossed around in a tumble drier. It’s not like Mike to get so upset. But Val’s right. This is one more step towards closure.

  ‘Thanks, Mike. Give me two minutes. I just need to sit and compose myself before we go outside.’ She leans forward, and closes her eyes. Her turn to be self-centred now. Dominic’s dead. Poor selfish bastard. She looks up and nods. ‘Okay, I’m ready.’

  Mike offers his arm and she links with it as they make their way out into the bright sunshine and across the car park. The man in the beige gilet is there, hiding behind a camera. There’s a hail of shutter clicks, then he disappears, camouflaged against rows of glinting wing mirrors. The configuration of the car park seems to have completely changed. Mike looks at her with questioning eyes. ‘I can’t remember where we parked, can you?’

  Ruth shrugs her shoulders and casts a look around. At the far side of the car park she sees Val, shaking hands with a man who has his back to her. Val spots her and quickly moves away. How odd. Ruth focusses on the shoulders and head of the tall individual who moves swiftly under the shadow of the aspen trees, which tremble in the wind. She’s not sure why, but the cropped hair and suit look strangely familiar.

  50

  Ruth

  Other than a solitary dog-walker the tow path is deserted. Ruth digs her hands in her pockets, content to appreciate the space and calm of the day. For the most part she and Val walk in silence, the only sounds being the chirrup of a chiff-chaff from the branches overhanging the river, or the distant chug of a narrowboat.

  ‘Good idea of yours to come out here,’ she says to Val, after they pass the sign indicating half a kilometre to the lock-keeper’s cottage. ‘I’d forgotten how peaceful it is.’

  ‘Mike and I would sometimes come up here on a Sunday afternoon. In the days before kids. By the time we finished the loop from Tadwick Mill to the boathouse we had put the world to right.’ Val laughs, as she sidesteps a barbed bramble.

  ‘I had a phone call from Varsha yesterday,’ says Ruth. ‘Bella’s interim care order is up for review this week.’

  Val carries on walking, stumbling over a hidden dip in the path.

  ‘She’s been discharged from hospital,’ Ruth continues, ‘and is in temporary foster care, but Social Services won’t say where she is.’

  ‘I guess that’s to be expected, isn’t it?’

  ‘Poor Bella. I love that little girl.’ She waves a buzzing insect away from her face. ‘Varsha gave me a date for the court hearing too. Twenty sixth of September. She says I can apply to join the proceedings, to hear what’s being discussed.’

  ‘I thought that would be automatic, given you’re seeking custody.’

  ‘Apparently not. I need permission from the Judge. And that’s not all. I have to consent to a psychiatric report at the request of the Local Authority.’ She stops in her tracks. ‘That’s worrying me. Not only that, but the police are conducting their own investigations in parallel for the Crown Prosecution service.’

  Val whistles through her teeth. ‘Jeez. Anything but straightforward, eh, but I suppose a protracted business is to be expected.’

  ‘Surely it’s in my favour that Dominic was taking drugs that weren’t prescribed for him? He’d have to be taking them of his own volition. They couldn’t try and pin that on me.’ She searches Val’s face. ‘Could they? Even with those prescriptions that were clearly forged?’ She thinks back to the carefully executed signature on the green notepad, too meticulous in its precision to be genuine. ‘The trouble is…’ Her voice trails off.

  Val stops walking and turns towards Ruth. ‘What?’

  ‘Bella. I’m not sure that I’m the right person to commit my life to looking after her now.’ She sniffs. ‘Assuming that the court finds in my favour, of course.’ She searches Val’s face for a reaction. ‘And I feel so guilty for thinking that.’

  ‘You know what I think?’ says Val, screwing her nose up in the sunlight. ‘I think that, first and foremost, you need to look after yourself. This has all happened in such a relatively short space of time. Hard as it is, you’ve got to look to the long term and not put yourself through more anguish and pain.’

  ‘But that’s just selfish, surely?’

  ‘But don’t you see? You’ve always put others first, whether it’s your patients, or those close to you. Your own wellbeing has got to be a priority if you want to carry on doing that. Ruth? Ruth?’

  She knows Val is right. Hadn’t she convinced herself already that she needed to be selfish if she was going to get through this? She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a tissue. When she finishes dabbing her eyes Val is smiling. ‘Another five minutes or so up this path should bring us to the Tadwick Lock Café. C’mon, I could do with a coffee,’ she says and leads on.

  The café is decked out in primary colours with decorative toleware adorning every shelf and counter. Even the outside tables have little enamel ashtrays painted with peonies and oxeye daisies. They draw up two chairs and Val checks her phone. ‘No news is good news,’ she says. ‘Either that or Mike has fallen asleep in front of the telly whilst Alice is running riot.’ She places the phone on the table. ‘I’ll give him a ring in a minute. What are you having?’

  ‘A filter decaf thanks.’

  Val nods and disappears inside. The sound of laughter prompts Ruth to look to her right. The lock gate is about one hundred metres away and a red and blue narrowboat approaches. It’s going so slowly that a man in a striped sweatshirt steps off it onto the towpath, whilst shouting instructions to a young girl who stands on the prow, her little body bulked out by the cumbersome floats of a lifejacket. She looks to be about six or seven years old. Ruth watches their body language as the man, presumably her father, bends down to pick up a thick rope. She tries to imagine herself as a parent. At one time it was the single most important aspiration in her life. But at what cost?

  A jarring noise distracts her. Val’s phone vibrates on the tinny table-top, and rattles towards her. Val spoke too soon. They had told Mike they would be a few hours. Surely it could wait. She wonders if she should answer it and looks down to see a name pop up which startles her. Mac. Mac? The same Mac who escorted her through the hospital and into a waiting police car? An image flashes through her mind of the mysterious figure talking to Val in the car park of the Coroner’s Court. Mac. Yes, the ver
y same. She feels panicked. If she ignores it, it will go through to voicemail and Val could deny it ever existed. It’s on its third ring and she needs to make an instant decision. She presses the ‘answer’ icon and waits.

  ‘Hey, Val. Some more good news.’ The Scottish burr is instantly recognisable. It speaks again, filling the space between heartbeats. ‘Val? Val, can you hear me?’

  ‘Here we are,’ says Val, appearing with a tray, ‘I succumbed to some almond polenta cake as well. I couldn’t resist.’ Her face constricts with concern as Ruth scrapes her chair back and holds the phone out towards her.

  ‘For you,’ says Ruth, her voice rising in indignation. ‘A mutual acquaintance.’ Her cheeks smart with humiliation as she stomps back down the towpath, her head down to avoid making eye contact with the young man, who is instructing his daughter not to lean over the side of the boat. She can hear her name being called but she quickens her step. Eventually there is a tug on her sleeve.

  ‘Ruth, I can explain everything,’ says Val, in short staccato breaths.

  ‘I trusted you!’

  ‘Please, let me explain. We’re doing our best to help you. You’ve got to believe me.’

  Ruth grabs Val’s wrist as their eyes connect. ‘We? What the hell is going on, Val?’ I deserve to know the truth.’ Val doesn’t flinch.

  ‘Okay. But first let me make a phone call to Mac. Then I’ll explain.’

  Ruth lets go of her wrist and walks back up the path to the café, where the coffee and cake are untouched. She slides into a seat and drains her cup. Mac? Why is he involved in some kind of subterfuge with Val?

  She jumps as she feels a pressure against her legs, then the wet muzzle of a dog snuffling her hand.

  ‘Sorry, love,’ says a middle-aged woman who is scurrying up the towpath in the down-draught of her Labrador. ‘He has a nose for a piece of cake.’ She smiles, clips his lead to his collar and drags him away. Paranoia lurks everywhere. Further down the path Val is pacing, still mumbling on her phone. After a few minutes she re-joins Ruth. She’s pale. A pinched smile. No words.

  ‘Well?’

  Silence.

  ‘What’s going on, Val? Why are you in cahoots with Mac? Don’t forget he’s the one who fucking arrested me! Answer me!’

  They both look around. The woman with the Labrador is far down the towpath, out of earshot. The outside tables are deserted.

  ‘I need to come clean with you, Ruth. This is not easy.’

  ‘Too fucking right it’s not easy.’

  ‘Please hear me out. I want to tell you everything.’

  A deep sense of unease crawls over Ruth’s skin.

  ‘It’s probably best if I start at the beginning.’

  ‘I’m all ears.’

  ‘Some weeks ago I remember having a conversation with you in our back garden.’

  Ruth shifts in her seat.

  ‘I mentioned that Madeleine and I had a disagreement six years ago.’ Val’s face twists, as if in pain.

  ‘And?’

  ‘It was about Dominic. It was before Bella was born.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Dominic and I had an affair.’

  ‘What?’ says Ruth, her voice rising an octave.

  ‘I know, I know. It was wrong. How could I have been so stupid as to fall for his charm?’

  ‘Oh my God. You bitch!’ Ruth swipes her hand upwards but Val grasps it before it strikes her face.

  ‘Ruth, don’t. Please!’

  ‘How long did this go on for? What about Mike?’

  ‘It was brief. I know that doesn’t excuse it. It was when Mike and Dom were working in London. I was a junior doctor. We all worked crazy unsocial hours. Dominic was charming, good looking, persuasive. It was a fucking huge mistake.’

  Ruth can’t quite believe what she’s hearing. How the fuck was she so naïve? She’d told Val all her secrets. And now Val was scheming behind her back.

  ‘I was so bloody stupid,’ Val continues, ‘but it was the risk-taking that was so intoxicating. At first, that is. Until Dominic became threatening.’

  Ruth resists the temptation to walk away. She needs to hear more. ‘Go on.’

  ‘He was very controlling. Demanding. Used to getting his own way. Then at other times he was as docile as a kitten. Kind. Gentle. Deserving of sympathy for the tough upbringing he’d had. I saw the error of my ways and it came to an end. I tried to blank it from my mind. But not before I told Mike.’

  Ruth sits in stunned silence.

  ‘We went through a very rocky patch, Mike and I, but, thank God, we stuck together. Dominic never found out that Mike knew and we decided it was better that way.’

  She jumps to her feet and rounds on Val. ‘Honesty is the best policy,’ she says in a mocking tone.’ That’s what you told me in the police cell, after I’d been banged up on suspicion of harming Bella. You fucking cheat.’

  She turns her head into the breeze, hoping it will stop the smart of tears. She’d been so gullible. She’s so messed up. Events had happened so quickly over the past few months that her actions had outrun her emotions. Did she love Dominic? She thought she did but now she’s not so sure. He hadn’t loved her. She walks further down the path, her back to Val. Love hurts. It fucking does. She quickens her pace, anxious to put some distance between her and her friend. She needs space to think this through.

  Under a riverbank willow, a fissured wooden bench comes into view. She flops down on it, her elbows on her knees. Why did Val keep this from her until now? If Dominic was so controlling why had she encouraged her in their relationship? And where does Mac come into all of this?

  She’s conscious of movement to her right. Val takes a few steps towards the water’s edge and sits on the ground a few feet in front of her, her back turned.

  They sit in silence, Ruth considering her next action.

  Minutes pass. A dragonfly hovers on the water’s edge, its diaphanous wings a cerulean blue. Ruth knows she should swallow her pride and say something but it’s Val who speaks first.

  ‘Ruth, I’ve been a damn fool. When we were at Med School it was always me who took risks after late night parties. Always me who needed cover for failing to show at early morning workshops. And you were always there for me, whether it was holding my head above the toilet bowl after a late night blinder or lending me your lecture notes so I could blag my way through vivas.’

  Ruth thinks back to the tiny terraced house they used to share as third year students. Eking out their student grants to feed the meter and using their coats as bedspreads in winter, it was so darn cold.

  ‘They say the older you get the wiser you become,’ Val continues, ‘but it wasn’t until I became a mother that everything changed.’

  Does she realise what she’s saying, thinks Ruth, the dart of pain catching her between her shoulders. She can’t bring herself to look Val in the eye.

  ‘What I mean,’ says Val, ‘is that Bella is at the centre of all this. I try not to forget that.’

  Ruth can feel the indignation rising within her.

  ‘And I don’t? Is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘Oh, Christ, I’m not explaining myself very well, Ruth. What I mean is that everything changed for me when I became a parent. And I thought it had for Dominic too. He was a changed man. Or so I thought. That’s why I didn’t warn you off.’ Swatting flies away from her face she twists round to face Ruth. ‘I made a terrible mistake. I’m sorry.’

  ‘How can I trust you anymore? I confided in you. You let me down. And why the fuck are you colluding with Mac?’

  ‘I’ve made some terrible mistakes in the past and I want to make it up to you. Mac contacted me when he was still assigned to you as your Liaison Officer. He really believes in your innocence, Ruth. He’s rooting for you. So am I.’

  ‘But he wa
s replaced by Sandra Bailey.’

  ‘Only once the police started to conduct a criminal investigation. He believed in your innocence from the beginning. He was taken off your case due to a perceived conflict of interest. Don’t you see?’

  Ruth reaches in her pocket for a tissue and blows her nose. The pressure in her head is oppressive.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Ruth, he was the one who helped me arrange your bail,’ says Val, her eyes flashing, ‘as long as-’

  ‘As long as what?’

  ‘As long as I promised not to tell you.’

  Ruth feels sick. Bail? She’d been so pre-occupied with thinking about Bella, the process of how she’d been released from custody hadn’t even occurred to her.

  ‘Look,’ Val says, standing up. ‘We’re just aware that there’s enough going on without upsetting you further, that’s all. Especially when it’s not necessary.’

  Ruth gives a derisory snort. ‘Oh, believe me, you couldn’t possibly upset me any more than I already am.’

  ‘That phone call,’ says Val. ‘From Mac. Just now.’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Do you remember the time when Mac told you about the anonymous derogatory posts that were deleted from the NHS website?’

  Ruth had forgotten about this in the aftermath of recent traumatic events, but her conversation with Mac in the café across the road from the hospital is now brought into sharp focus.

  ‘Yes. So?’

  ‘Have you heard of Tor browser?’

  ‘Tor what?’

  ‘Tor browser. It’s computer software that prevents the sites you visit from learning your physical location. In other words, Tor browser protects your privacy and anonymity when you’re browsing the web.’

  Ruth’s pulse quickens. She holds her breath for a few seconds, fearing more bad news.

  ‘When the police examined Dominic’s computer they found Tor Browser. However the NHS site had been bookmarked as a favourite so the posts could be traced. Unbelievable some of the content: ‘‘This Dr is under investigation for fitness to practice’’, ‘‘reacts badly to stress’’, ‘‘has her own emotional problems.’’’