Healer of My Heart

by Sheila Turner Johnston

  She peered at her watch. It was half one. Where was he at half one in the morning? And who was he with? She speculated for a moment then rolled over and went back to sleep.

  15

  ANGUS FRASER WAS puzzled by what he was seeing.

  There wasn’t enough cover for him to get too close, but he had been able to duck under the slide in the children’s playground just at the back gate to the Botanic Gardens. From there he could look along the embankment to the other side of the road, towards the bridge.

  The traffic interrupted his line of sight but he recognised the man who walked slowly to meet Robyn. It was her man friend. She seemed to be keeping some distance from him. Any time he tried to narrow the gap between them, she lengthened it again by taking a pace back along the railings.

  Angus watched patiently, then cursed as cramp gripped his leg. He stood to flex it. When he looked again, she seemed to be agitated, gesticulating, waving her hands wildly. She was easy to see in her light red jacket and denim jeans. A lorry obscured his view momentarily. When it passed, Robyn was spinning away from the guy, her hair flying like a cape. Despite seeming to be in some pain, the man followed her and grabbed her arm. In an instant Robyn turned and smashed the flat of her hand into his face. The guy staggered against the railings, both his hands to his face.

  Robyn ran past him and came towards Angus’ hiding place, slowing to a brisk walk as she approached. She took something out of her pocket – it was a phone – and stabbed at it. She was ringing someone. No, she wasn’t, she had dropped her hand to her side, still holding the phone. She was crossing the road, hardly paying any attention to the traffic. He pulled back out of sight. She passed him and hurried up the path to the park.

  He came out of hiding and swung round to look back towards the bridge. A blonde woman was with Neil, her arm supporting him; with her other hand she was dabbing at his face with a tissue. Angus looked over his shoulder in the direction Robyn had gone. Then he turned back to the couple by the railings. After a moment’s thought, he quickened his step and went towards them.

  “Are you all right? Need any help?” he called.

  A light breeze was making the pages flutter as David studied the rules and regulations of the camp in Florida where he was going as a helper for three weeks in August. He was looking forward to it. This would be his first major trip abroad alone and he was more than ready. He stretched, then caught a sheet of paper just as it slid off his knee. The garden bench was in an alcove of lawn in the back corner of the luxuriant garden. The sun came round to it in the afternoons, but on this dry summer morning, it was a pleasant retreat.

  His mother was at work and his father had taken Manna with him to visit neighbours. David was heartily glad because his father was a poor patient, fretting and restless, impatient with idleness. David swivelled and put his feet up along the bench. Wedging his papers under his knees, he threw his head back to look up through the branches above him. Tufts of cloud floated across the bright blue sky. David spread his hands and raised his arms high, feeling that he was smiling up into the face of God.

  Three weeks and then back to the final push to exams. It would be a crucial year, and he was determined to do well. When they had moved east, he had wanted to go to the Further Education College to finish his exams, but his parents wanted him to qualify from a prestigious school. Eventually he had given in although, older that his peers, he felt out of place. RE would be the difficult one, but he found it fascinating. He was fairly confident of English. His lips curved in a slight chuckle. Did she know she put her tongue between her teeth when she was concentrating? As for Geography, he would probably be OK there too. His thoughts darkened. Fraser made him uneasy. Had be been watching Robyn in the park?

  His phone bleeped. One message received. ‘Where r u?’

  He swung his legs to the ground. It was sent from Robyn’s phone. Puzzled, he replied: ‘home. you?’

  After a moment the message came back: ‘r u busy?’

  David thought for a moment. Then he thumbed: ‘where r u?’

  ‘park’

  ‘c u there’

  He waited a moment but there were no more messages. As he passed the green car in the drive, he considered taking it, but decided that he’d probably be quicker on foot. You don’t have to look for a parking spot for your feet.

  Jogging through the gates of the park, he looked around for the red jacket he was fairly sure she would be wearing. He found her pacing up and down the path by the Palm House. She was in a fury. Without even saying hello, she launched into a tirade.

  “Who the hell do they think I am? They really do think they own me! They really do.” She rounded on him, making him take a step backwards. “How dare they? How dare they?” She paused for breath then stormed on. “They want me to go back with them. They have it all arranged. A friend of Gemma’s is coming up tomorrow and he’s so happy to take me and Neil back with him!”

  David recovered from his initial shock and held his hands up. “Hey, calm down. I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

  This only incensed her more. “Calm down? Calm down! Why the hell should I?”

  David made a mental note never to say that to a woman again. He stayed quiet, hoping that her anger would eventually run into sand.

  “Why does no-one believe me?” She stormed away and whirled round on him again. “Am I invisible? Do my feelings not matter? Just because something is my opinion, it doesn’t mean it’s no opinion at all. And he didn’t say sorry.”

  People were staring. David took a quick look round and realised just how public this was. Aware that some of the observers could be pupils or the parents of pupils, he took her arm firmly and steered her to the Palm House. He moved so fast she stumbled on the steps but he pushed her ahead of him through the squeaky doors and almost into the middle of the foliage of a tall plant with spindles of bright red flowers.

  She swung round on him and the edge of his eye caught the movement of her right hand as it streaked towards his head. His arm shot out and caught her wrist. She was stirring his own temper. He tightened his fingers. Anything to shock her out of this fit. Because that’s what this was. Some switch had been thrown. He raised his voice.

  “Robyn! Whoever you’re angry with, it isn’t me. Stop this now.”

  She blinked, seeming to come out of whatever madness had taken hold. He waited a moment, then pulled her wrist down and opened his fingers, letting her arm rest on his palm. The white imprints of his fingers scored across the faint scar. With his other hand, he traced a finger down the line of it, stopping where the pale mark met the crease at the base of her thumb. His gaze was transfixed on the vulnerable translucence of her inner wrist.

  Desire hit him like shrapnel.

  She was watching his movements intently, her voice a whisper.

  “I’m sorry, David.”

  He dropped her arm, feeling shaken, dizzy. He took a deep breath, fighting his way back. “I should hope so. You were so cross, you might have knocked me out.”

  She smiled slightly, embarrassed. “I don’t think so somehow.”

  “Tell me,” he said, “if I hadn’t come, who would have suffered instead?”

  Her shoulders sagged wearily. “Same person as always. No-one.”

  He stooped to look into her downcast eyes. “Bet I’m better than him.”

  She looked up then. “Miles better.”

  Pretending that he had no idea what had happened at the railings, Angus put a solicitous arm under Neil’s and helped him along.

  “I think we’ve met before,” said Angus. “Aren’t you a friend of Robyn Daniels? You called at the school one evening at the end of term.”

  Neil, breathing heavily, gave him a black look. “That’s right.”

  They reached Gemma’s house where Angus lowered Neil carefully onto the couch. Gemma disappeared briefly and returned with a plaster.

  “The wound’s opened again, but I don’t think it’s too ba
d.” Neil held up his face as she tapped the plaster onto the corner of his mouth. “That should do it.”

  Angus studied her bottom appreciatively as she bent over her brother. He looked away quickly as she turned.

  “Thank you very much for your help.”

  Angus called up his most charming smile and held out a hand. “No problem. Angus Fraser.”

  Gemma shook his hand. “Gemma. Neil’s my brother.”

  “Ah, so you’re not two-timing our gorgeous Robyn then, Neil,” he joked.

  “Can I get you something? Coffee? Coke?” said Gemma quickly.

  “A coffee would be nice.”

  When she left the room, Angus sat easily in an arm chair and beamed across at Neil who was lying with a face like thunder. “I remember the evening at the school. You called for Robyn and she wasn’t ready to go. You left without her.” He crossed his legs. “I took her home.”

  Neil watched him from under lowered lids. “There’s no need for us to detain you, you know.”

  “Oh, not at all. I’m delighted to meet you again – and your delightful sister.” Angus made an expansive gesture. “She’s quite a girl, Robyn, isn’t she? I’m not surprised you were a bit mad at me.”

  “I wasn’t mad at you at all. You’re hardly her type.”

  Angus’ brows shot up. “Whatever you say.” He looked nonchalantly round the room then back at Neil. “What happened to you?”

  “Car accident,” said Neil.

  “Shit. Still, at least you’re alive to talk about it.”

  Gemma returned and handed Angus a mug. She sat on a low stool, angling her legs sideways and crossing her neat ankles.

  “So do you teach with Robyn?” she asked.

  “Just the last month or so. She’s just in subbing for a maternity leave. She’s very young and inexperienced, but extremely popular.” He paused, took a sip of his coffee. “Very popular. With both teachers and pupils.”

  “That’s interesting,” said Gemma. “She’s always been a bit of a loner. She never seemed that easy with people when she was growing up. She was always the shy one. We were at school together,” she explained.

  “Really?” said Angus. “Isn’t it amazing how people change?”

  “She has changed.” Both Gemma and Angus looked round at Neil in surprise. He shrugged. “Damned if I know why. She was always very reasonable, was able to see things from my point of view.” He thumped the back of the couch. “Now she seems to have a mind of her own and it’s making things bloody awkward.”

  Even Angus was startled by this little speech.

  “Well,” he drawled, “maybe she just wants to spread her wings a little. She’s in new company, first job, new colleagues.” He swirled his coffee thoughtfully. “She’s not that much older than some of her pupils either. Takes a while to remember you’re not a student any more. Some of the older boys lose sleep over her.”

  Gemma smiled. “Schoolboys with crushes! Yeah, I can believe that. It happens everywhere.”

  Angus put his mug on the fender. “Indeed. Most teachers, of course, don’t encourage it.” The room went silent. Angus stood up lazily. “I must go. I hope you’re on the mend, Neil. Perhaps we’ll run into each other again some time.” He made for the door, then turned back. “Plenty more fish in the sea, mate.” He winked broadly and left.

  The bronze statue, Woman in a Bomb Blast, sat on a low plinth in the middle of the dark atrium at the far end of the original museum building. David had brought Robyn here because of its tranquillity. He came here alone himself sometimes. The bronze exhibit was new; he had never seen it before. It was about half life size, and depicted a woman blasted almost horizontally backwards. Her blouse was blown up over her face; her legs flew upwards, twisted and helpless. Her arms were flung out in desperation. Her right arm ended in a hand contorted into a claw. Her left arm reached behind her, hand flailing. One of a series by FE McWilliam, it had been cast in 1974.

  Perched on a long stool in a window embrasure, her jacket rolled up on the floor, David listened as Robyn told him about Neil; about his obsession with her; about trying to get him to leave her alone.

  “It’s as if he’s a child throwing a tantrum because he’s not getting what he wants.” She clenched her fists and shook them. “And it makes me so angry. And then I feel angry with the whole world.”

  “I noticed.”

  She put a hand quickly, lightly on his arm. “But you get mad sometimes too? I know you do.”

  “I’ve been very angry with myself and with some people. I don’t think I’ve blamed the whole world for everything yet.”

  “I have.”

  The bitterness in her tone jarred with him. “Why?”

  “Because it’s a bad place full of bad people. And we live in a spectacularly good example of it.” She gestured at the bronze.

  David studied the statue. “That’s not the only way to get screwed up.”

  She looked at him. “You know that too?” she asked after a moment.

  He looked down, away from her eyes. “I know that too.”

  They were silent for a while. Then she said, “I was born on an anniversary of the Kings Mills massacre. My mother always said it was a bad omen.”

  “She said that? To you?”

  “She did. Do you know about it?”

  “I’ve heard of it, that’s all.”

  “There was a bogus checkpoint set up. Twelve armed men stopped a minibus with ten Protestant building workers in it. The driver was a Catholic. They told him to get lost, then they lined up the workmen and shot dead all but one. The survivor had eighteen bullets in him.”

  “Quite a birthday,” said David.

  “I was born on a bad day. It’s made me feel like a bad person all my life.”

  She started as he thumped his hand down on his knee. “Don’t be so bloody ridiculous! You’re smarter than that.”

  “Language. What would your minister say?”

  “He can say damn all. I’ve never pretended to be a typical northern Prod.”

  “You’re not a typical anything, David.”

  He reached out and took her left arm, turning her wrist upwards. As he suspected, there was a faint scar on it too. Not quite as long as the one on her other arm. Like a penance, he made himself trace this one also.

  Softly he said: “Across for an ambulance. Up and down for a coffin.” She was motionless, dropping her head so that her face was hidden in her hair. “You didn’t mean to survive this, did you?” He waited, still holding her wrist. His impatience grew and he raised his voice, gripping her harder. “Did you?”

  Her head spun round and she cried: “No, I didn’t!”

  “But you did! That makes you a survivor.” His temper finally got the better of him. He flung her arm away and stood up, turning to confront her. “You’re a survivor. For God’s sake act like it!” As he turned to get as far away from her as he could, he couldn’t help adding: “If I can do it, so can you.”

  He got as far as the main door before he calmed down. He stood still, breathing deeply. He was mad at her, but he was punishing her because he was mad at himself. Mad at what he had felt; what he still felt. Shaken because looking into her mind was like looking into a mirror. Confused because having known her properly for a few days was like having known her for ever. And that couldn’t possibly be. And it certainly wasn’t safe.

  He walked back slowly. She had put her feet up where he had been sitting and was curled into a tight ball, her back against the window frame. He put his hands in his pockets and, feet planted apart, stood looking down at her. Slowly she raised her head and her hair fell away from her white face. Her eyes meeting his were enormous.

  “Want to tell me about it?” he asked.

  Her voice pleaded for him to understand. “I can’t.”

  He took a deep breath and studied her for a moment longer. Then he held out his hand. “Fancy a sandwich?”

  She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Ham? No mustard?�
�

  “Ham. No mustard.”

  She uncurled and stood. “OK then.”

  She picked up her jacket. And took his hand.

  16

  BAREFOOT, DAVID PADDED into the kitchen where his mother was peeling potatoes. He propped himself against the ledge and picked at some freshly chopped carrot in a bowl. Elizabeth glanced up and smiled briefly. “What have you been up to today?”

  “This and that.”

  “Sounds fascinating.” She set a peeled potato in a saucepan and lifted another one. “Oh, can you do the reading at the morning service tomorrow? Dad was supposed to do it, but I don’t want him to feel under pressure to go out if he feels tired.”

  David threw a piece of carrot into the air and caught it in his mouth. “No problem.”

  Manna’s claws clicked on the tiles as he wagged his way off the carpet and over to where food was being thrown around. David tossed him a piece of carrot and Manna bounced up and crashed into the kitchen table, aware that his favourite food was airborne in the vicinity. David straightened the table and helped Manna by pointing to the carrot on the floor.

  “If we have to have a one-eyed dog,” he complained, “why couldn’t we have a smaller one? It would cause less havoc.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Poor Manna. He can’t help being that size.” She looked up at her son. “Just like you can’t help being that size!”

  He darted behind her and bent to put his arms around her waist. Lifting her with ease he swung her round and round. “And just like you can’t help being this size!”

  “David! Stop it – I’m holding a knife!”

  He propped her back against the edge of the sink and patted her head. “Midget,” he teased.

  Manna had finished his carrot and was watching with his ears flopping forward and his head nodding from side to side in puzzlement. Smiling, Elizabeth resumed peeling. David became serious. He perched against the ledge again and picked at the carrots.

  “Do you see many people who have tried to commit suicide?”

  Elizabeth looked surprised. “Thankfully, no. Not many. Some, of course, but not many.”