Healer of My Heart

by Sheila Turner Johnston

  Her mother was in the kitchen before her in the morning, calm and neat. Her face showed signs of strain, her eyes still slightly puffy, but she tried to sound cheerful when Robyn appeared.

  “Let’s go shopping this morning,’ she said. “It would do us both good.”

  Robyn poured a bowl of cereal and sat at the kitchen table.

  “Mum, I’m sorry…”

  “Please don’t talk about it again.” Anne turned away to the sink to rinse some dishes, hiding her face. “It doesn’t do any good.”

  “But what will, Mum?” Robyn asked quietly. “What will help?”

  Anne swung round, agitated. “Help? Who needs help? We have the rest of our lives. We make what we want of it. Let the past go. Forget it.”

  She put down the dish mop, snapped off the yellow kitchen gloves and sat at the table opposite her daughter.

  “Robyn, please make a fresh start. Maybe try giving Neil a chance? No, listen to me. He’ll help. He’ll take you. He’s been smitten with you since he was at school. He’s had a few girlfriends but he always drops them. He’s a good man, he’d look after you; I know he would.”

  Robyn waited while the words, “He’ll take you”, circled round her mind and settled in the place where all the other words were kept. Then she looked at her mother’s earnest expression.

  “Do you still think there’s such a thing as a good man, after all that happened to you?”

  “Robyn, please, I want to see you settled with a family. Once you have a family, you’ll have a future. It’ll keep the depression at bay. Make a new life, a happy life. Do it right, not the way I did. I want that for you so much.” She reached out and tried to take her hand.

  Robyn stood and brought her bowl to the sink.

  “Where do you want to go shopping?”

  4

  LATER THAT DAY they went for a walk in the local park. Robyn wasn’t surprised that they just happened to run into Neil. Anne’s “What a surprise!” wasn’t even passably spontaneous. Neil lightly touched the loose, crocheted sleeves of Robyn’s pink tunic. Her hair bounced over her shoulders, rippling like a cape in the light breeze.

  “You should have brought a coat, Rob. It might rain later.”

  “Don’t fuss.”

  The town’s park was as familiar to each of them as their own houses. They had played here as children, daring each other to go higher and higher on the swings – although usually Neil’s sister Gemma won because she was so fearless. They strolled past the slide and Robyn remembered her childhood fear of it. Once, Neil had persuaded her to climb the ladder by promising to climb behind her and catch her if she fell. But when she was nearly at the top, nerves had overcome her and she insisted on climbing all the way down again, trampling down past him and past six other impatient children who were waiting for her to take her turn. He had been embarrassed and furious.

  “I said I’d catch you!” he yelled.

  “You might have dropped me,” she yelled back.

  Her brother Stephen, almost a teenager, snorted. “Girls are stupid.”

  Today, the sunny afternoon had brought a new generation of children to riot round the brightly coloured playground. Anne swerved to a bench and sat down.

  “I’m a bit tired. I think I’ll just people-watch for a while.” She waved a careless hand. “You two go on. I’ll catch up in a few minutes.”

  This was so planned. But it was a lovely day and Neil’s challenge – “Come on, race you to the boat!” – was tempting.

  She was fast and he was not as light as he had been. It was no contest. She was over the wooden side and sitting on one of the planks across the hull when he climbed in beside her, panting.

  She laughed. “You’re getting tubby!”

  He waited till his breath steadied. “I want to talk to you.”

  Instantly all the joy of the day left her and apprehension made her head drop. He took her shoulders and pulled her round to face him. At his touch, a sleeping nugget of panic deep within her tensed and trembled.

  “Look at me. Look at me!” He shook her until she met his eyes. “You know how I feel about you. I know you do. I’ve never seen you show an interest in anyone else.” He gave a bark of frustration. “God knows, I’ve tried to get you out of my head but you’re stuck there even though I know the…” He stopped, looked away for a moment, changed tack. “…even though I’ve tried to be with other women. Damn it, Rob, we could be married by Christmas.”

  She remained still through this speech. Then bit out through clenched teeth, “In what charm manual did you read that proposal?”

  He released her and stood, throwing his leg over the plank in front and the next and the next until he reached the prow. By the time he turned, the spark had left her. She felt flat, spiritless. He raised his voice.

  “My God, woman, here I am, a man who’ll look after your every need for the rest of your life and you… you look depressed!”

  She looked up slowly. “I’m a bit of a failure at relationships. I’m afraid.”

  “But you’ve never really tried!”

  He spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. A clutch of children barrelled up the slope, intent on a game in the boat. The leader jumped in, swinging on the mast, brandishing an imaginary sabre and yelling directions to his pirates.

  Neil was furious.

  “Hey, get lost! The boat’s occupied.”

  The chief pirate, a street-wise youngster of about ten, eyeballed Neil before leading his marauders away sullenly.

  “We could have moved on, you know.” Robyn said. “This is meant for children.”

  “They can come back later.”

  With a quick snarl of frustration he strode back. He took both her arms and pulled her towards him. Her arms came up to his chest to push him away with a strength fuelled by panic and anger. Over the side and running. She reached a fallen tree trunk and in one swift movement had climbed it, back against a jutting branch and knees drawn up to her chin.

  Neil heard giggling and looked around. The pirate gang were hiding in a bed of shrubbery, convulsed with laughter. Furious, he strode across the grass to the tree trunk.

  “Thank God we’re out of sight of your mother.”

  Her right arm hugged her knees; she was rubbing the heel of her left thumb rhythmically against a rough piece of bark near her foot, shredding the skin until blood showed. Her voice was slow and deliberate.

  “Don’t ever try that again.”

  “For God’s sake, Robyn!”

  He walked some paces away and back again to give himself time to cool down. Slowly, she uncurled and dropped beside him.

  Unexpectedly, she leaned forward – he was only an inch taller – and kissed him full on the mouth. She stood back, her eyes closed for a moment as if she were wine-tasting. When she opened her eyes, they were unreadable. A waiter would not have known if the wine had pleased.

  “Friends, Neil,” she said, “or nothing.”

  He looked at her hand. “Look, you’ve cut your hand by this silliness. We’ll have to go back and get a bandage before it gets infected.”

  5

  ON MONDAY EVENING, finally back in her flat after staying late at school as usual, Robyn poured a mug of tea, winkled a biscuit from a new packet and took it to her chair by the window. She thought about what she had seen as she had walked down the drive after school earlier. A low wall topped by tall railings ran along the perimeter of the school grounds. At the end of the school day, these railings disappeared behind the crowds of pupils waiting for lifts, buses; gossiping, arguing, flirting. Later in the afternoon, there was rarely anyone around. So Robyn was surprised to see two figures seated low on the protruding ledge.

  The pale thin girl from David’s class was talking earnestly to him. David was looking at the pavement between his feet, his hands clasped loosely between his knees. His attention was so totally on the girl – Robyn remembered her name was Penny – that he did not seem to hear Robyn’s footsteps as sh
e passed a few metres from them.

  David might have some explaining to do if Chloe heard about that tête-à-tête.

  The ironing board slouched behind the kitchen door. Extracting it was one of the few activities that reduced Robyn to swearing. She pulled, the board swivelled – and the open packet of biscuits shot from the ledge to the floor. The jarring of the doorbell interrupted the scene. Mood rather threadbare, she stepped over the pieces of broken biscuit and went down the stairs to open the street door warily.

  It was a large yellow teddy bear. “Hello, Rob,” it said.

  Neil’s head appeared around its ear.

  “What are you doing here?” Robyn asked, heart sinking.

  “For you.” He thrust the bear at her.

  She took it and squeezed its tummy. “Thank you.”

  “The weekend… well.” He spread a hand. “We’re still friends at least.” She rubbed the bear’s nose while he fidgeted. “Look, do I have to just stand here? I’ve something to tell you. I was going to talk about it at the weekend, but…. Can’t I come up?”

  She looked up at the sky.

  “I don’t think it’s going to rain for a bit. Let’s just take a walk. But only half an hour or so. I’ve stuff to do. And you still have the drive home.”

  She went back up for her jacket and door key, leaving him on the step.

  “So what ‘stuff’ have you to do?” he asked. “School’s done half way through the afternoon and you’re only filling in for somebody anyway.”

  They were strolling towards the city. Robyn kept a distance that ensured they wouldn’t touch.

  “You haven’t a clue, have you?” she said. “I had lesson plans to do at the weekend. It didn’t happen. Remember the folder I brought with me? The folder in the boot?”

  It had been an almost silent drive back to the city. He must have stayed in the city overnight.

  “Oh that.”

  “That.”

  “What are lesson plans? Don’t you just…” he shrugged, puzzled, “teach stuff?”

  She couldn’t be bothered to reply. There was something in her shoe. She kicked it off and shook it. It was a piece of biscuit.

  They sat in the window seat of a coffee shop and Robyn spooned the froth on her cappuccino. Neil flicked his hair back with one hand.

  “I’m moving to Belfast.”

  Surprise made her freeze momentarily, spoon in mid air.

  “What?”

  He smiled at her expression. “I’m moving to Belfast.” He sat back and spread his hands wide. “Congratulate me. At last I’ve signed a deal on new business premises. I signed on the dotted line today. It’s perfect, designed for a technology company.”

  Carefully she set her spoon in the saucer, tipped her head back, hitching the dark curtain of hair behind one ear. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

  “Quite a while. But I didn’t even tell Gemma.”

  “Goodness.”

  “I suppose it was seeing the new office blocks going up that started me thinking.” He nodded at her hand. “Why have you taken the bandage off your cut? You should have kept it on for few more days.”

  “It’s fine.”

  He lifted his cup. “You really need someone to look out for you.” He took a sip. “When I move up here I’ll be able to do that.”

  “But what about your staff?”

  “What about them? They’ll be fine, they’ll get other jobs. Some of them have interviews already.”

  “You mean the staff know about this already? And you didn’t say anything even to Gemma? You’ve always told Gemma everything.”

  His bark of laughter made her jump. “Oh, there’s things about me that even Gemma doesn’t know.”

  In that moment, Robyn didn’t like him at all, not at all. There was a shadow of nastiness in his tone. In a sudden change of mood he clattered his cup down and sat back.

  “It’s so perfect, don’t you see?” He waved a hand earnestly towards her. “I’m going to buy a house, the first house of my own. And House of Collins will have a whole new image.”

  Robyn lifted her cup and sucked down the last of the froth. “It’ll be quite a move.”

  “I’ll show you round as soon as I get the keys. There’s a bit of money business to sort but I’ve been told it’ll be fine.”

  “Your mum and dad will miss you. And so will my mother.”

  “Oh, your mum’s thinking of moving up too. Didn’t she tell you?”

  She choked on a swallow. “Quite a cabal, you two, aren’t you?”

  The frost in her tone passed him by. “What’s a cabal?”

  “Never mind.” She reached for her jacket. “I must get back.”

  On the street at the door of her flat he put one hand on her shoulder. He ignored her instant tension, brought his lips close to her hair. His hand moved to her chin, finger and thumb. Close. Too close.

  “Think about it. We could be good together. I know we could. Just think about it.”

  She pulled away but he gripped her chin tighter until she felt the hurt. His voice became hoarse.

  “Please, Rob.”

  She felt his breath and her own fear all in the one moment, snakes twisting round each other. It was going to happen again. No matter what Neil did now, it was going to happen again.

  He let her go so suddenly that she staggered. He stepped back and spread his arms wide. “OK. Friends. I know.” He turned as if to go, spun round again. “You know, if you would let me, there’s nothing wrong with you that I couldn’t cure.” He spun away from her. “I’d better get on the road. Give my love to the bear. Tell him he’s a lucky teddy.”

  He walked quickly towards his car, buttoning the jacket of his grey business suit. Behind him, Robyn fled.

  Neil put the key in the ignition but didn’t fire the engine. After a few moments he hit the steering wheel and swore. He’d just made a big mistake, but damn her! Frustration and humiliation brought high colour to his cheeks. He turned the key and shot into the traffic, careless of the near miss and horn blast. At the end of the road he usually turned left to head west out of the city and home. Without hesitation, he flicked his right indicator.

  In a narrow street near the city centre, a woman answered a knock on her front door. She raised her eyebrows.

  “Oh, it’s you. It’s a bit early.” She looked again and read his expression with the experience of years. Her hand came out and took hold of his tie. She pulled him through the door. Business was business.

  Robyn tried to surf the panic. She really tried. But the wave broke over her.

  She sank to the floor and crawled behind her chair. She wrapped her arms tightly around her head and body, pressing herself into the gap between the window and the bed. Incoherent fear took over, banishing reason to a far away place. When finally she stopped shaking, she lifted one arm and looked round the room, grasping for reality again. Anchor points.

  On the couch, the bear lay where she had left it. Deliberately, she rose and took a pair of scissors from a drawer. She cut through the red bow round the bear’s neck. As the bow fluttered to her feet she sat down with the bear on her knee. First she ripped open its stomach and pulled all the stuffing out onto the floor. Then, methodically, she cut the floppy remains into tiny pieces until the carpet was covered in lumps of yellow. When the eyes landed amongst the remains she stopped suddenly. Dropping the scissors, she lay down on top of the covers and curled into a ball.

  I’ll get by. I’ll get by. I will. I must. But I’m tired.

  In the tiny kitchen the ironing board still stooped over a scatter of broken biscuit.

  David Shaw straightened his tie as he waited at the staff room door. Finally Miss Daniels appeared.

  She looked terrible. The sleeping beauty he had seen before looked strained and tense as she came out into the corridor. There were black rings under her eyes. She didn’t speak, merely looked up the length of him, waiting to see what he wanted.

  “I saw you
at our rehearsal.” He paused but still she didn’t respond. Not a flicker. This was uphill. “Two of the people who were going to help out on Thursday night – you know, at the Holy Huddle gig – can’t come now. And anyway, I really need to be sure that there’ll be enough staff at it. And I just wondered if maybe you were coming? Or would come?”

  She turned away and he thought she was just going to leave him standing there. Over the few months they had both been at the school, he had gathered that she was liked and respected. It was why he was here now. He had never seen her like this. She turned back.

  “David, I’m not a good person. Why on earth would you want me at your gig?”

  He decided she must be making a joke.

  “There’ll be a few worse than you there.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Her tone was flat, dispirited. He decided to keep climbing the hill.

  “Thursday night; it starts at seven-thirty, but we need to be there by six to check all the mics and stuff like that. Could you make it? Please?”

  He finished on such a hopeful note that she gave a half smile. She walked to the window and stood for a moment, slightly turned away from him. It struck him that today every line of her was dejected and even the clothes she had chosen were dull and unflattering, such a contrast to that vivid red dress. He chewed on the thought as he waited.

  “I’ll make a deal with you.” She gave a little toss of the head as she turned back, hair shadowing her face. The ghost of herself was in it. “My store needs reorganised. It’s a total mess. I need to sort it out before term ends. If you’ll help me with that, I’ll help you at the Hooley.”

  “It’s a deal. When would you need me?”

  “Are you free after school today?”

  He thought quickly. Nothing that couldn’t wait. “I’ll come straight round.”