The Fallout

by Rebecca Thornton

  ‘How exhausting for her.’ I laugh but Mary looks serious.

  ‘Well, the thing is,’ she takes out a plate from under the island. ‘Ella is one of those people. She’s just never tired. She’s had her fair share, after all.’

  I want to ask Mary what she means by ‘fair share’ but, before I can, I’m beset by the thought that Ella is exactly the kind of person that Gav should have married. Always on it. Always looking good with everything under control. As I think about this, I smooth a hand over the island surface trying to get rid of any crumbs. Just as Gav likes it – he’s an absolute neat-freak.

  ‘Now look here, what would you like to eat?’ Mary guides her hand around the food offerings. ‘She dropped off these lovely home-made salads. Immune boosting, she said. So you feel strong.’

  ‘Mmm, that looks lovely.’ My mouth waters at the sight of the juicy, fresh strawberries on a bed of green leaves. Crisped noodles and shallots and the smell of tangy dressing. ‘What a treat. I never eat like this any more.’

  Since Gav and I started to lead totally separate lives, using the kitchen at different allocated times, I can’t remember when I’d last actually prepared anything more for myself than cheese on toast. I watch as Mary uses two wooden salad servers – I can’t work out if they’re even mine or not – to lay my plate with food. She passes it over, along with an ice-cold drink of water.

  ‘There we go, love. Eat that down and then get straight to bed.’

  I nod. No one has looked after me like this since before Jack was born. I remember the way Gav used to care for me, rubbing my neck at the end of every day of the pregnancy. How it had all stopped soon after.

  ‘It’s OK, love, he’s in the best hands,’ Mary says. And then I realise guiltily that I hadn’t even been thinking of Jack.

  ‘I know,’ I tell her, crunching on a roasted cashew. ‘It’s just that – I don’t know. It’s all so quiet here.’

  ‘Don’t you worry. It’ll soon be loud enough.’

  ‘I don’t want to get too used to you, Mary,’ I laugh. ‘It’s going to be a shock when you are gone. Mary Poppins. My Mary godmother.’ I give a tiny laugh and think about what will happen when she is gone. And the thought of being alone. How appealing the idea of being in Sarah’s flat is. Away from the horrid, oppressive atmosphere of the house. The knowledge that Sarah and Tom would always be around. Especially at night.

  ‘You OK?’ says Mary.

  ‘I’m fine. I’ve just got a headache. I know it’ll stop me from sleeping.’

  ‘Oh love. I’ve got these with me.’ She goes over to her bag and unclips the clasp. ‘I take them when I stop doing night shifts. To get my timing back to normal. In fact, Ella introduced me to this. It’s all herbal. Natural. She had them made up for me when I couldn’t sleep one morning after I’d looked after Felix during the night. She did a course in all that herbal healing remedy stuff when …’ She looks like she’s said something she shouldn’t and then quickly changes the subject. ‘Anyway, I’m sure it’s fine with breastfeeding. In fact, I know it is because Ella fed whilst taking them.’

  ‘How does she know all this?’ I ask, wanting to find out what she’d been talking about just now.

  ‘Well, she just does.’ Her eyes darken. ‘Don’t ask me why. Or how.’ She hands over a couple of small, greyish-coloured pills and starts to pour me a glass of water. ‘Go on, you’ll be fine. Don’t stand there too long, you need to get to bed or you’ll be no good to anyone. Take them.’

  I don’t have the strength to argue. I think about the alternative. The insomnia and what that will do to me. I get a flash of Jack, just after he was born. And then of me and everything that followed. The grip of blackness that I couldn’t shake off and how that had made me behave. I shut my eyes to make the thoughts disappear.

  ‘Thank you.’ I take the pills, feeling them in my hand, like small sweeties.

  ‘What you waiting for? Don’t you worry. Drink some more water too. And look at this little one.’ She picks up Thea from her bouncer and pats her head. ‘She’s just beautiful. You’ve done a great job. You’re a fabulous mother. Very lucky, those kids.’ I feel a stone of guilt drop right through me.

  ‘You think?’ My voice sounds tight.

  ‘I do. Right. Sleep. Now. Oh by the way, I met your friend. Sarah was it?’

  ‘Oh?’ I can’t think how she would have met Sarah. If she’d been told about her by Ella, or had met her somewhere else, but my mind is too foggy to continue the conversation. ‘Ah lovely.’ I turn away from Mary to signal I don’t want to continue chatting. Thank God she seems to get the message, I’m just about finished. I watch as she starts to clear the island, Thea in one arm. She stacks all the bowls, wipes the surfaces and keeps whispering into Thea’s ear.

  ‘And what’s this too?’ I follow her eyeline, to the small Le Creuset dish that we use every day – the one that I bung anything and everything into, any old leftovers I can find that look vaguely palatable. ‘Looks like some potato thing. Ella didn’t bring it, so it must have been here before …’ She swallows. ‘Before you left.’

  ‘God knows, Mary,’ I shrug. ‘It’s probably been there for days. I’d chuck it if I were you. Dread to think what the hell it is. It looks gross from here. Probably poison us all. Some old fish pie. How embarrassing. We’re not normally such slobs.’ I don’t look too closely. But then she picks up a couple of small, yellow Post-its.

  ‘These too?’ She positions her glasses at the end of her nose. ‘I can’t quite read the writing. Must have got wet.’

  She passes the notes over to me but again I’m too exhausted to look. I think of the bottom of my pram. How messy it is. The piles of rubbish, unpaid bills, empty boxes that I threw there. A bottomless pit of admin and stuff, all confined to one area. I almost tell her to go and put the Post-its in the pram. But then I shake my head. No more crap, I think. Streamline things. I’m going to have to now, if I want to be on top of things for Jack.

  ‘Chuck it.’ I wave my hand at the pieces of paper. ‘If you can’t read them, just chuck them. And that too.’ I point to the Le Creuset. ‘If that’s OK.’ Normally I’d do it, but my bones feel like they’re turning to lead. ‘I’ll just go up now for a sleep. I’m so grateful,’ I start to say but Mary puts a finger to her lips.

  ‘Shhhhhh.’ She waves her hand at me. ‘Go. Just go. I’ll deal with the rubbish here and the leftovers.’ I watch gratefully as white slop pours into the bin, the Post-its crumpled up in her hand. ‘There we go,’ she says. ‘All gone.’

  WhatsApp group: Renegades

  Members: Liza, Sarah

  Sarah: Thea ok? Thinking of you so much.

  Liza: She’s great. Thanks so much for watching her. Back home now for a quick kip. Got back to a load of candles, incredible salads all laid out on the island. And I’ve just come upstairs to find my nightie laid out on this incredible cashmere throw. All from that shop we love down in Chiswick. WTF? Can you believe it? Ella is an angel! In disguise! Sending a maternity nurse and everything. Feel bad how I dissed her earlier.

  Sarah: Was there anything else?

  Liza: What do you mean?

  Sarah: Anything else you noticed? Any other food or anything?

  Liza: Anything else? Surely she’d done enough! A maternity nurse, all those gifts. No, nothing else. Steady on Sa! I know she’s amazing but there’s a limit!

  Sarah: Ah – I didn’t mean that. I just … never mind. Just thinking of you and Jack and hoping that you are ok. Quick, go to sleep now and make the most of it. I’ll check in later. Ok? Loads of love to you.

  Liza: You too. By the way, will you come over when Jack gets out of hospital, whenever that is? I need you there with me. I’m already feeling shaky about it.

  Sarah: Of course. I’d have been there anyway.

  Liza: I know. Thank you. X

  SARAH

  She’s exhausted. Her mind’s in a spin. Casper is watching telly again, which is making her feel horrendous. They ha
ven’t even done his half-term homework. ‘Find different types of autumn leaf, stick them in a scrapbook.’ Nothing to it and she hasn’t even managed that. Liza can’t have noticed the fish pie. Or everything else she had done. The cleaning and sorting, emptying the dishwasher. She must have thought Mary had picked up Thea from her house. Not that Sarah cared. She didn’t want praise. She didn’t want gratitude. She just didn’t want Liza to think that she’d done nothing. At least Liza had asked her to be there when Jack gets discharged from the hospital. She is still needed. She flops down on the sofa next to Casper and squeezes his small, sockless foot.

  ‘Mummy loves you darling,’ she pulls at his little toe. ‘I love you very much.’ She feels her eyes close. Just half an hour. One more episode of PAW Patrol. That would allow her twenty-five minutes of rest. Time in which she can let go of her absolute fury with Ella Bradby. I’ve sorted something for Liza indeed. Then she’d get up and go to the park with Casper before Tom got home. Just as she’s sliding into a deep, black sleep, she hears a key in the lock. She jumps. It can’t be Tom already? But then she hears a soft, Irish lilt.

  ‘Only me.’ Fuck, she thinks. It’s Friday. Helen is here to clean. And she can’t very well be lying on the sofa now, can she? (‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Liza had told her time and time again. ‘You’re paying her, you can do what you want.’) But before she knows it, she’s stood up too quickly, feeling like she’s about to pass out.

  ‘I’m just in here, Helen,’ she shouts too loudly, in a bid to disguise the sleepiness in her voice. ‘Just sorting out Casper’s toys.’ Her eyes dart around the room to a small box in the corner, which she leaps towards. She empties out all the plastic crap into the middle of the room and scatters it about her person. ‘Just doing a big tidy-out. Very busy,’ she says but Helen has already walked to the kitchen and is pulling out the Hoover from under the stairs.

  ‘It’s OK, love. I’ll just start upstairs and then I’ll come and say hello to my favourite little boy when you’re done.’

  Sarah slumps back down onto the ground, shoving the toys back into the middle of the room with a sharp kick. For fuck’s sake. She rests her head on the wooden floor. What a mess. She needs to do something. But instead, she just lies there, feeling the guilt weighing her down, like it’s going to push her right through the floorboards into the dust-filled cellar below. But then what would happen? Would anyone find her body? Would anyone care enough? Would the police turn up with Casper sobbing for his mummy? Get a grip for crying out loud.

  By the time Tom gets home, she’s still catatonic. Casper is fast asleep – thank God. She’d managed to time everything perfectly so that he didn’t get too hyper before bed. She can congratulate herself on that much, at least.

  ‘Takeaway,’ she mumbles from the sofa. ‘I’m sorry. I went shopping for Liza. Didn’t even remember our supper.’

  ‘Want me to nip out and get something now?’ Tom asks.

  ‘No. I need to talk to you. We’ll get a delivery.’ She holds her breath, waiting for him to say something about money and how he’s trying to get fit. She watches as he grabs his stomach and starts to say something before giving up.

  ‘Fine,’ he says. Thank God for that, she didn’t even have to guilt-trip him into it. ‘Thai?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She’s relieved he hasn’t gone off-piste. She can’t face a row and some revolting food that doesn’t satisfy her voracious need for comfort.

  ‘Great, your usual?’ She thinks carefully about her order. Pad Thai. No chilli. Pork dumplings. She really should go for something a little different. Try something new. She’s always promising herself she’ll push her own boundaries, after all. And her takeaway order is as good a place to start as any. She runs through all the other options in her mind, none of which are to her taste tonight.

  ‘Fuck it,’ she sighs. ‘The usual.’

  ‘Fine.’ He swipes his mobile and taps the screen in three deft moves. ‘All done.’

  ‘Red or white?’ She gets up. ‘Or something else?’ A glass of something is exactly what she feels like but she can’t even decide what she wants to drink.

  ‘Should you be?’ Tom slides his phone into his pocket and looks over at her. ‘I mean, didn’t we decide the night before last that would be our last? We need to get your …’ She stops in the doorway, feeling a swell of anger radiating around her.

  ‘Tom,’ she clenches her teeth. ‘I’ve had a fucker of a day. And yesterday. A glass of red wine isn’t going to kill me off. Nor is it going to affect my—’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I don’t. But what I do know is that if I’m as stressed out as you’re making me now, it’s never going to happen. I’ve been off my head before when I’ve got pregnant.’ She watches him bite his lip, the familiar bolt of pain settling itself at a midpoint in her chest.

  ‘Fine. Red.’

  ‘Fine.’ Just as she walks into the kitchen, she tells herself to calm down and start thinking about things rationally. Except, she tells herself, there’s nothing rational about this situation at all. She’s fucked up. Badly. She’s trying to sort it out. But Ella sodding Bradby keeps scuppering her at every turn. She grabs the first bottle of red from the wine rack. A Malbec that she’d won in the summer school fair raffle, donated by the local wine deli. She pours them both a glass, and takes a large slug from her own. And then from Tom’s for good measure.

  ‘Here.’ She walks through to the living room, hands him his glass. She puts down her own carefully on the coffee table (they had initially agreed no drinking on their brand-new sofa from Made.com, and she’d been paranoid ever since that it would be her to ruin the soft bottle-green velvet) and slumps down on the cushions. ‘Well, this is nice. Isn’t it?’ But she knows her voice sounds all sharp and forced.

  ‘It is.’ Tom frowns. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she takes another slurp. ‘It’s just that, I feel bad for Liza. That’s all.’ As the wine hits her stomach, she feels the softening of her limbs, her mind fuzzing. She hesitates and takes a deep breath before continuing. ‘You know, I wonder if there was something I could have done. Yesterday, I mean. To stop things.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Tom puts one foot up on the coffee table. ‘There’s nothing anyone could have done.’

  ‘But what if there was?’ she says. ‘What if I could have stopped it?’ She feels the spread of warmth from her stomach. ‘If I, I don’t know. If there was something I should have thought to do?’ She’s testing the water, she knows. She needs to be careful she doesn’t go too far. Tom would be horrified. He’d probably divorce her if he knew the truth. She starts to sob.

  ‘Sarah, love, don’t cry. He’s fine. He’s going to make a full recovery. You’re just probably thinking these strange thoughts because – well,’ he starts to mumble, ‘because of Rosie. You’re always questioning yourself. Like the counsellor said. But there’s nothing you could have done.’

  ‘But what if there was?’ She takes a big breath to stop herself from sobbing out loud. ‘And please. I’ve told you before. Don’t talk about Rosie like that.’

  She feels the press of his hand on her back. ‘Look, The Vale Club will be on it. Hopefully they’ll do an investigation, so whoever is to blame will get the flak. And that most certainly isn’t you.’

  ‘They are doing an investigation. See? You don’t understand, Tom!’ She’s shouting now, she can’t control it, his words have panicked her beyond belief. ‘You know nothing.’

  ‘Look. It’s fine. Like I said, I’m here. Casper’s here. It’s OK. If you need to talk, just talk to me.’

  ‘Fine,’ she sniffs. She can’t get any more words out.

  ‘Look,’ he reaches over for her glass. ‘You’re exhausted, shall we just go to bed?’

  ‘Are you fucking joking me?’

  ‘No, I didn’t mean …’

  ‘You didn’t?’

  ‘No. I thought you might need some sleep.’

  ‘Oh, so am I not
attractive to you now?’

  ‘You are. You are, it’s just that …’

  ‘I know. I’m not attractive. I’m a snivelling mess.’

  ‘You’re not. You’re beautiful. And this will all be over soon.’ She desperately wants to believe him. ‘And then we can focus on, you know.’

  ‘What?’ she snaps.

  ‘Well, giving Casper a little brother or sister.’

  She tells herself not to be silly. That Tom is being very calm and not putting any pressure on her. She should be following his lead and looking to the future, instead of getting all worked up. But, she reminds herself, he has no reason to be stressed. He can be as relaxed as he wants. He hadn’t, after all, been at the hospital when it all happened. When she really needed him. No. That had been Liza. So of course he can be calm, which is just making her feel even more enraged. And now, to top it all off, she feels like she’s about to lose it with the thought of the investigation hanging over her.

  ‘I thought we could go away for the weekend.’ His eyes glance towards the fireplace and settle on a blow-up photo canvas that she’d had made for his birthday last year. A montage of all their holidays together, pre-Casper. ‘Just you and me. Imagine. We can leave Casper with my brother? He’d like to hang out with his cousins. What do you think? Nowhere expensive. I thought I’d take Greg up on his offer of a stay in his lodge in Oban. What do you think?’

  It does sound nice, she thinks. Roaring log fires, freshly caught fish. But before she’s replied, she hears an intake of breath and only when she starts coughing does she realise it’s her own.

  ‘I can’t very well leave Liza now,’ she says. ‘What kind of a friend do you think I am?’