Safe With Me

by K. L. Slater

  ‘She’s a tough old bird,’ he shrugs. ‘Trouble is, she doesn’t seem to know when to put her feet up.’

  Or keep her big mouth shut.

  It doesn’t take long to get to the hospital. I keep the conversation light for the rest of the journey. I don’t want to pressurise Liam in any way before his appointment.

  I can wait.

  I sit outside the treatment room while Liam sees the doctor. I almost offer to go in with him but think better of it in the end. I’m not the sort to interfere.

  Liam is seeing a doctor today who hasn’t got a clue about his medical history or the trauma he has been through. Why you see somebody different every time you come to these places I don’t know but it must waste a lot of time while each doctor gets up to speed.

  Nevertheless, after just fifteen minutes in there he emerges from the room holding his crutches but not using them.

  He’s quite a bit taller than me, and I like standing next to him. Makes me feel safe.

  ‘Doc says everything is knitting together nicely,’ he grins. ‘Next appointment is in two weeks, and I’ll be starting physio soon.’

  ‘It doesn’t take long for them to lose interest,’ I grumble loud enough for the receptionist to hear. ‘Can’t wait to get rid of you to free up the bed these days.’

  Liam says he could do with a coffee so we head into the café, and I sit him down at a table while I queue for the drinks.

  It’s strange to think I was here myself only a few days ago when I cut my hand. The wound seems to be healing fine despite me rushing out of Triage, although it still aches and is very sore if I accidentally catch it.

  I take the drinks over to our table on a tray.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ I say, as though the thought has only just occurred to me. ‘I could move in to yours for a few days, if you like. To help you both out, I mean.’

  He looks at me but he doesn’t say anything.

  My head starts to pound, and I can feel my face heating up.

  ‘I’m just thinking of you and Ivy.’ I’m trying to make it easy for him. ‘She is struggling to look after you, and I’m sitting at home every afternoon with little to do. It seems the obvious solution.’

  I realise he is probably just emotional and is finding it difficult to find the right words to thank me. I wait.

  At that moment, a woman with bright red hair and lips to match stops at our table and beams at Liam. I stir my latte and try to ignore the furious itching at the back of my neck.

  ‘Hello you, I’m Nurse Linda. Remember?’

  Liam smiles at her politely but it’s obvious he hasn’t got a clue who she is.

  ‘I was on your ward for a couple of days when you first came in. How are things?’

  Liam is sitting here with crutches, looking far too pale and thin. How does she think things are?

  She is dressed casually; obviously off-duty but still worryingly overfamiliar considering Liam is a patient.

  I sip my coffee and busy myself looking around the café. I catch her glancing my way a couple of times, trying to draw me into the conversation but, of course, I completely disregard her efforts.

  The two of them have a stilted conversation for a few moments and then finally she moves on, waving at Liam like an old friend.

  Infuriatingly, the moment we had before her appearance is now lost, and Liam starts droning on about some wildlife series he’s been watching on TV.

  I’ve no doubt he is simply too embarrassed to bring up my offer again, even though it is what he wants.

  When we’ve finished our coffee, I have to virtually force him to use one of the visitor wheelchairs again so we can move quickly through the hospital corridors and out to the car.

  ‘I feel stupid stuck in here like an old invalid,’ he grumbles, holding the crutches across his knees. ‘A bad headache doesn’t stop me from walking.’

  ‘It isn’t for long,’ I scold, secretly wishing he was confined to a chair all the time so I could monitor his whereabouts and better assist him.

  Once we are back in the car, I broach the subject again.

  ‘As I was saying before, Liam, I am more than happy to stay over at yours for a short time until you get on your feet again.’

  He looks out of the window and stays quiet. If we are to become closer as friends, he has to learn to open up to me.

  ‘If your gran has a heart attack or, worse, dies, think how guilty you’ll feel. Especially since it could all have been avoided by a simple arrangement.’

  ‘Can I be honest with you, Anna?’

  My heart is pounding but I try hard to concentrate on the road. His warm tone feels like he’s confiding in me.

  ‘For some reason Gran has this silly hang-up about us relying on you too much. You know how she values her independence, even though I agree she could do with the help.’ He pauses. ‘I just don’t think she would entertain the idea of you moving in, even for a short time. It would be like admitting she couldn’t cope, you see. She’s always been the same.’

  My head jerks round at him and then back to the road.

  ‘You remember how she used to be?’

  ‘Not as such.’ He shrugs and shakes his head. ‘I mean she’s been the same since I had the accident.’

  I have this overwhelming sense that we’re at a pivotal moment in our relationship. It is clear to me that Liam is actually trying to say he’s very fond of me and would accept my offer.

  If it wasn’t for Ivy being difficult about it. So I make an instant decision.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Liam yelps as I suddenly swerve the car into a lay-by.

  Chapter 47

  Once we are safely parked up, I turn off the engine.

  Before I can properly give consideration to the best way to tell him, the words are spilling from my mouth.

  ‘I know you’ve had an awful lot of stuff to take in the last week or so, Liam,’ I begin. ‘But I need to tell you exactly why Ivy is so afraid of me getting closer to you both.’

  I turn my body so I’m facing him but he still won’t meet my eyes. My breath quickens, and I think about reaching for his hand. But in the end, I just can’t do it.

  ‘You have to promise that this stays between us, for now.’

  Liam shifts awkwardly in his seat, staring stubbornly out of the window.

  I have no choice. I can feel the words stacking up in my throat, words that need saying.

  ‘I don’t want you to think I’ve been snooping because that really is not the case,’ I begin. ‘But when I took the towels and bedding upstairs at the house, I couldn’t help but see that Ivy had left some documents out on the bed.’

  His head whips round, and his eyes search my face as if he is trying to second-guess what I’m about to say.

  ‘There were letters. Papers and things,’ I falter. ‘Obviously I didn’t open anything but one or two of them. . . well, they were open anyway, and as I tidied them I couldn’t help but get the gist of what was being said.’

  I stare, fascinated, as his cheeks develop two dark pink spots of colour.

  ‘What did you see?’ Tiny spots of perspiration pop up on his top lip. ‘Anna?’

  ‘There’s something you will have forgotten because of the accident and—’

  ‘Just tell me!’

  A muscle flexes in his jaw; his tense, broad shoulders turn towards me.

  I don’t feel afraid of Liam, of course I don’t. That would be silly.

  But I’m beginning to wonder if I have picked the right moment.

  ‘I found an old report upstairs on Ivy’s bed,’ I say, looking past him through the car window. ‘A psychological report.’

  ‘You’d no right to go snooping.’ He grabs the wrist of my injured hand, and I let out a yelp.

  ‘Liam, please!’

  He lets go, and I rub my wrist but it doesn’t dissipate the bolts of sharp pain.

  ‘Sorry,’ he says, running a hand through his unruly hair. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you
, Anna.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ I say but I stiffen under a growing urgency to just drive him home.

  His fingers drum his knee urgently.

  ‘You were saying. . . about the paperwork?’

  I have no choice but to carry on now.

  ‘It was a report about Ivy. Did you know she’s had psychological problems?’

  He laughs. ‘I don’t think so; hard to know with no memory but I seriously doubt it. I mean, she’s a daft old bat alright but not proper bonkers.’

  ‘She’d signed it off herself,’ I say, carefully. ‘The report, I mean. So the things it says must be accurate. An official medical opinion.’

  Liam shrugs. ‘I don’t see what that’s got to do with anything.’

  His mood is all over the place. It must be the head injury messing things up.

  ‘You’re allowing her to make all the important decisions, that’s my point.’

  The ghost of a smirk drifts past his lips but he doesn’t say anything.

  He glances at his watch and lets out a long breath. I can almost feel the irritation prickling off him but I still can’t let it go.

  I keep my voice level. ‘Ivy doesn’t always know what’s best for you, Liam.’

  ‘What do you want me to say?’

  I realise I have never noticed those silvery flecks in his dark blue eyes before. It’s probably just the angle of the light but they shift and shimmer until I’m not sure of the dominant colour at all.

  My heart performs little blips every few beats and, looking at Liam’s dark expression, my big reveal about Ivy doesn’t seem like such a good idea.

  ‘I know it’s hard to take in, and I know it’s none of my business but I think you have a right to know.’ I try again.

  A swell, a kind of longing, fills my chest area.

  I lay my hand gently on his arm, and he looks down at it. His face has lost some of its crimson colour, and his posture seems to have softened.

  ‘Thanks, Anna,’ he says, more like his old self again. ‘You’re a mate.’

  My heart dips in my chest a little but then I have always known that’s how he sees me. I’d be an idiot to hope for anything more. Then he speaks again.

  ‘That’s wrong, you’re more than a mate.’

  I feel like I’m holding my face up to the full sun under the heat of his words.

  ‘You’re special to me.’

  ‘I think she’s scared of being left on her own,’ I start to babble, feeling my own cheeks inflame. ‘After your dad and sister died in the accident, you were all she had left, and I think she’s scared of you and I getting—’

  He shakes his head in a strange, jerking fashion, and his colour comes back up.

  ‘She likes Amanda,’ he says vaguely, letting his hand fall away.

  ‘Don’t you see?’ It feels like something is nipping at my stomach. ‘Amanda is terrified the police will prosecute her, so it’s her mission to befriend you. And with her mental health issues, Ivy is not the best person to be managing communications with the police.’

  ‘You must’ve been mistaken, by the way,’ he says, ignoring everything I just said. ‘I asked the doctor and they haven’t had a child in.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘You said Amanda had knocked a child off a bicycle. She didn’t.’

  ‘Oh, the nurse must have been mistaken when she told me that,’ I say, swallowing hard. ‘Amanda can’t be trusted. Just a feeling but I’m quite intuitive like that.’

  He is putting a cool face on: acting as though he isn’t overly concerned.

  ‘Amanda thinks if she wins you over, you’ll speak up for her and the police won’t take their investigations any further.’ I decide to push this time. ‘There’s something not right about Amanda Danson. She isn’t who she appears to be.’

  ‘Who is she then?’ Liam grins and his lips look sore, like the skin is stretched too far.

  ‘Someone you would be well advised to keep away from. Trust me.’

  He says nothing, and we just sit quietly but the silence isn’t uncomfortable.

  Then, at last, he turns to me.

  ‘I’ll speak to Gran,’ he says. ‘I’d like you to stay at the house for a while.’

  My heart feels like it’s going to burst, and I clasp his hand, hard.

  Chapter 48

  Thirteen years earlier

  Carla Bevin opened the curtain a touch and watched as the cluster of reporters and TV cameras gathered outside the house.

  Men and women, some with mobile phones trapped between their ear and shoulder, scribbling onto notepads. Others were looking around the street, eyes darting, brain working out new ways of getting the neighbours to talk to them.

  She pulled the fabric back again, battling the lumpy knot that was trying to free itself from her throat

  Two days earlier, on a stupid, stupid whim, she had paid an unauthorised, unscheduled visit to the Clarke family home.

  She’d knocked at the door, picked off bits of peeling paint as she waited, thoroughly prepared to be given short shrift, when it opened.

  ‘Yes?’

  Daniel’s mother wasn’t what she expected. A petite woman, she was dressed in checked capri pants and a silky white blouse. An elegant gold cross nestled in the hollow of her throat.

  She had a pert nose and full lips. Her make-up had been applied a little on the heavy side, but still.

  ‘Mrs Clarke? I’m Carla Bevin from Cumber Meadows Comprehensive.’ She held out her hand, and Monica Clarke shook it. ‘I wouldn’t normally just turn up like this but I need to speak to you about your son, Daniel.’

  ‘Please, come in.’ Monica showed Carla into the kitchen. ‘I’ll make us a nice pot of tea and then we can talk.’

  Carla had been quickly made to feel both welcome and respected.

  Monica took her into the middle room which, in contrast to the white kitchen, was dark and dreary. Lots of dark wood furniture lined the room and religious artefacts filled the walls.

  Over tea and biscuits Carla gently began to talk to Monica about her children.

  ‘So Anna approached you in the school car park?’ Monica remarked.

  Carla nodded. She thought Mrs Clarke looked concerned and a little upset.

  ‘I’ll have a chat with her. Young girls and their hormones; her imagination has been running away with her lately. It’s difficult, you know?’

  Carla did know. She remembered her and her sister at each other’s throats at the same age Anna was now.

  ‘So Daniel isn’t in grave danger, Mrs Clarke?’

  Monica put down her cup and saucer and gave a light laugh. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to make light of the situation but Daniel in danger? He doesn’t move away from his computer games long enough to be in peril in the real world, Miss Bevin.’

  ‘Carla, please.’

  Monica picked up her cup again and watched Carla over the top of it.

  ‘At school, I’ve been trying to get Daniel to talk about any problems he might have.’ Carla watched her reaction. Monica Clarke didn’t seem to have any concerns about her son. Maybe he was hiding things from his mother. ‘After speaking to you, I wonder if Anna might benefit from some counselling sessions, too.’

  She had caught the brief flicker of shock on Mrs Clarke’s face then and, at that moment, realised that Monica had been unaware of Daniel’s sessions.

  Moreover, Carla had to face the fact she herself had assumed Daniel’s problems were confined to school when, in fact, she wasn’t at all sure that was now the case.

  Mrs Clarke excused herself and disappeared upstairs for a few minutes to speak to Daniel.

  Carla looked around the room at the crosses. Dozens of them, large and small, dotted about the walls, on shelves, the dark oak Welsh dresser and even on the windowsill.

  A shiver crept over her skin, and she wrapped her cardigan a little tighter.

  A few minutes later, Monica reappeared at the stairs door.

  ‘I’m afraid Daniel is qui
te sleepy. He’s refusing to come down.’

  ‘Kids,’ Carla faltered. ‘Perhaps you’d be interested in coming into school at some point, to attend some parent-child therapy sessions.’

  ‘Sounds perfect,’ Monica nodded. ‘Just let me know where and when.’

  This pacified Carla. The leadership team would no doubt be delighted she’d been able to persuade Monica Clarke to engage with the school at last.

  She thanked Mrs Clarke and headed home, back to her glass of wine to toast this unexpected and very welcome result.

  Chapter 49

  Present day

  Anna

  Jim Crowe had mentioned an impromptu work meeting to me only that morning, and I agreed to go back into the delivery office early in the afternoon in order to attend it.

  He didn’t say specifically what it was about but, if it was regarding new round allocations, then I’d be sure to get myself there to fight my corner.

  When I agreed, I calculated that I’d have plenty of time to take Liam to the hospital, have some lunch and drop him off before I had to go back in to work for two o’clock. But time whizzes by so quickly: I have to drop Liam back at home and get straight off again.

  It is a fifteen-minute drive to the office and, despite nagging thoughts at the back of my mind about my problems at work, I feel euphoric at how well my discussion with Liam has gone.

  Up ahead there is some kind of delay on the road; the traffic slowly backs up and then stops moving altogether. Instead of getting stressed I put the handbrake on and settle back to wait for the cars in front of me to move again.

  I push work worries to the back of my mind and begin to plan my move into Liam’s home. I wonder if he is already having the conversation with Ivy. If so, he may well be expecting me to bring my stuff over tonight.

  I luxuriate in the warm feeling that is spreading through my bones. I can barely remember what it feels like to belong but I think it might feel like this.

  Hopefully Ivy will allow me to help her at last. We can all help each other.