Too Close
Page 26
He smiled and put his arms around me and pulled me close. I rested my head against him and felt more peace right then than I can remember. Both of us were quiet, listening intently to the tinkle of the brook, interrupted sporadically by Annie’s husky voice confidently bossing around Mental Sita: ‘Fetch! Good dog!’
I suppose I’m not the same person as I was before, Dr R. I suppose middle-class sixteen-year-olds are not meant to keep babies in our society, are they? It’s against our principles of focused achievement. Then again, middle-class women aren’t meant to have breakdowns and become family annihilators, are they? Oh no, we leave such nastinesses to the others, to the uneducated, to the neglected, so we can get on with listening to The Archers and running the show; let the disenfranchised, the dispossessed conceive young! The disappointment for them is so much less when the show implodes because their lives were shitty to begin with. And what, after all, Dr R, is this show we are so eager to get up and running?
Another breath of wind rained pink petals down on us. For the first time I thought seriously about getting out of here, of finding somewhere to live, of getting better, of being a parent again, a grandparent if need be, of what else was waiting for me, getting myself back to work. A future.
‘Hurry up and get the hell out of here, will you?’ he said, as ever in tune with me. ‘Ness told me to tell you that you can stay in her parents’ cottage when you get out … down in Suffolk. They said it was fine.’
I was surprised by this. I thought about it. She hadn’t mentioned this to me.
What do you think Ness wants from me, Dr R?
I think I know what it is. She wants what you want, Dr R. What I want. She wants forgiveness. And I thought of you and the way you could forgive me my actions, but you couldn’t forgive your own. And the way I can forgive her but I can’t forgive myself. And the way she can forgive me but can’t forgive herself.
How do we forgive ourselves? Josh might say, Guilt? What’s the point of it – it’s just you telling me you’re a nice person. But I disagree. What are we without a conscience? We’re just animals, survivalists: eating, plundering and fucking. You were right to make me remember, to take me through it, to feel the pain of my actions, to feel the guilt. Because surely guilt means we are self-reflective and therefore able to change. Anyway, I’m not sure it’s about self-forgiveness at all; I think it’s more about self-acceptance. And I’m not there yet, that’s for sure.
But maybe that’s just me telling you I’m a nice person.
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank Matthew Hamilton for his laid back but relentless encouragement, his meticulous editing and his Captain-esque capacity to keep calm and carry on – all in all, for just being such a great agent. I must also thank Lesley Thorne for her constant support, her professionalism and her naughtiness. I am so lucky to have two such honest and fun agents. Thank you to all the foreign publishers who showed such enthusiasm so early in the writing, giving me much confidence. And, of course, to Darcy Nicholson, for picking up the baton here – I am very grateful.
I want to thank Mel Hudson from the bottom of my heart for her generosity in sharing information, specifically about the use of benzodiazepines – and for generally being an inspiration.
I cannot underestimate the value of my wonderful book-club for their early reading and unerring frankness, kindness and love: Nita Instrall, Becky Harris, Justine Vaughan, Susannah Doyle and Lori Shaul. They are my props.
On a familial note, thanks must go to my fabulous boys: Sydney and Noah for their love and support, my sister and brother, Natalie and Daniel, for their constant encouragement with this work and all things. It is lovely to know that my back is watched!
About the Author
Natalie Daniels is the pseudonym for screenwriter, author and actress Clara Salaman who you may recognise as DS Claire Stanton from The Bill. She lives in London and in Northern Spain.
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First published in Great Britain in 2018 by Transworld Digital
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Corgi edition published 2019
Copyright © Natalie Daniels 2018
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