The Fallout

by Rebecca Thornton

  SARAH

  It’s coming up to eleven o’clock. Time is ticking quickly and Sarah just wants to be polite and extricate herself from any long conversation with Charlotte G. Bran muffin. Coffee. Home. Instead, she knows she’s going to have to listen to Charlotte go on and on about absolute rubbish. Her mind grapples for an excuse. And then her phone goes. She glances down at the screen, not caring that Charlotte will undoubtedly complain to another parent about this later.

  Liza. Shit shit shit. She scans her message. Gav has told her he’s been at the doctor’s. What the hell is she going to say? She wishes Liza would just tell Gav where to go. Sarah has no idea how her friend can let him get away with his behaviour.

  ‘Sarah?’ Charlotte peers closely into her face. ‘You OK? I mean, I know things must be pretty stressful with Jack. You heard any more by the way? About what happened at The Vale Club? Apparently they’re in awful trouble. For letting that happen. There’s going to be an internal investigation into it, I hear.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Sarah tries to keep the anger out of her voice but then she registers what Charlotte G has said. ‘Just full on,’ she says. ‘Kids and stuff. And yes. Obviously, Jack. And The Vale Club thing? That’s just people being nosey and disrespectful.’ She gives Charlotte a warning stare. ‘People trying to create gossip. No one knows what’s going on at the moment. Everyone’s main concern – which of course as it should be – is the welfare of Jack, and Liza.’

  ‘Well, of course. I know that. But, well, it’ll be interesting to hear what they have to say.’ Charlotte G sniffs censoriously. ‘And management’s reaction to it. I mean, you’d think for the price we’re all paying …’

  ‘Where did you hear that stuff, by the way?’

  ‘Hear what?’ Charlotte G stands up to full height.

  ‘That there is going to be an investigation?’ Sarah is trying to act casual but out of nowhere she can hear the rush of her heartbeat in the depths of her eardrums.

  ‘Oh, well.’ Charlotte G’s clearly delighted to oblige. ‘On The Vale Club Facebook page, of course. Everyone’s going mad, saying they’re not taking their kids back there until there’s been a proper, full-on investigation into the health and safety of the club.’

  ‘Right.’ Sarah gulps. She wonders if she can bring herself to look later. She hopes it’s not gaining too much traction with The Vale Club members – given that half of them are parents at Casper’s school. Not only might she be caught out, but every single person on the planet could find out what she’s done. ‘Oh yes. I do remember hearing something about that.’

  Her skin is prickling. Sarah desperately needs this conversation to end. She thinks of Gav again too, and wonders what the hell she’s going to say to Liza. She quickly types a message that will buy her some time and gives a short, sharp smile in Charlotte’s direction. One that says, Listen up, bitch. Say another word and I’ll have you for breakfast. Unfortunately, it doesn’t quite translate as she hopes.

  ‘Oh, Sarah. You do look exhausted. I know how stressful it is. Yes. Of course I do.’ Charlotte gives her a patronising smile. ‘What with part-time work at the shop. Three children under three and no real help at home. It’s just exhausting. But of course I’m so lucky to have Mike. He’s such a present and loving father. One must count one’s blessings.’

  Oh do fuck off, thinks Sarah.

  ‘Getting ready for the Christmas fair then?’ Charlotte G continues. Shoot, thinks Sarah. Shoot, damn and fuck. She hasn’t even asked the shops for the raffle prizes yet. Her one task for the fair today and she can’t even remember that.

  ‘Yes, it’s going super well,’ Sarah says. ‘Got some fantastic prizes. And I’m starting to make real headway with the sponsorship money. I hope you’ll be at the meeting after half-term?’

  ‘Ah, the meeting.’ Charlotte G has a strange look on her face. If Sarah didn’t know better she’d think it was almost one of pleasure. They both go silent, until Charlotte can’t help but break out into a full-on smile. ‘You do … you do know, don’t you?’

  ‘Know what?’ Sarah feels her lips freeze. She can’t take much more of this. Her head is still reeling with Gav and the talk of the investigation.

  ‘The meeting?’ Charlotte’s voice grates, like a toddler playing the recorder. ‘Oh, have you not been on your WhatsApp?’

  Sarah pulls out her phone again. She has studiously ignored the reams of messages that she muted earlier that morning. She can’t concentrate. She can’t even seem to punch in her security code.

  ‘Ella,’ Charlotte goes on. ‘She’s pulled in the sponsorship money.’ She takes in a big gulp of air. ‘Would you imagine? The entire lot. I added her onto the WhatsApp chat just a few minutes ago. She wants to head up the Christmas fair this year.’

  ‘Head it up?’ Sarah feels like someone is clawing at her throat. ‘I said I’d do it. Take over. To help Liza.’

  Part of her is thinking: phew. She really, really can’t be arsed to do it anyway, and she’ll be cutting off her nose to spite her face if she kicks up too much of a fuss. But alas, the pride engulfs her before she can shut her big trap. What the hell is Ella playing at now?

  ‘I mean, I’d organised everything.’ Sarah immediately wishes she could take back the lie. But it’s too late. ‘I’ve been working all hours.’ What the hell is she saying? Her mouth just will not stop, despite her brain telling her otherwise.

  ‘Really?’ says Charlotte, her eyes bulging with the pleasure of imparting such important information. ‘Well, Ella’s managed to secure ten thousand pounds in sponsorship. Ten thousand! Typical Ella. Probably just had to introduce herself and the business owners would be climbing over each other to sponsor us. So – you know – we need to think of that, really. Don’t we? Maybe it could go to vote? I mean, if you’ve organised everything already then maybe you could …’

  She takes a long swig from her Thermos flask, which has a sticky label with Charlotte G written on it, in small, black writing (of course it does, thinks Sarah, bitterly).

  ‘Y’know. You could, like, do it together? What a fabulous idea. I mean, that saves you having wasted all your time. And it lets us keep the sponsorship money that Ella’s raised without, well, offending anyone.’

  Sarah wonders if she should offer her the Nobel Peace Prize.

  ‘I’ll ping everyone now, shall I?’ Charlotte pulls out her iPhone. Sarah watches helplessly.

  ‘There,’ she says, waving the handset in the air. ‘All done.’

  ‘All done,’ Sarah echoes. Just to think, this time last week, she would have jumped up and down at the thought of spending time with Ella. How her heart had swelled when she’d first seen her again after all those years, gliding around The Vale Club. Her thoughts had swiftly tumbled through the imagined scenarios of their burgeoning and sisterly friendship, before Jack’s fall had ripped everything apart.

  All of it seems so plain sailing for Ella. Even in the direct aftermath of the accident. Not an eyebrow out of place – her clothes effortlessly crease-free. She is just so clean and crisply turned out. How easy and how much better Sarah’s own life would be if she’d just been born into Ella Bradby’s shoes. But, she tells herself again – no one can be that perfect.

  And how in hell has Ella brought in all the money anyway? And why? Is this all part of her perfection? Or could it be something more sinister? Sarah’s mind is now racing like a trapped hamster on a wheel. Liza had already spent weeks working to pull in funds. The more Sarah thinks about it, the stranger it seems.

  She looks at her watch. And now she’s late. No relaxed coffee and muffin. She could try and ring Liza on the bus. Or at least WhatsApp her. She reminds herself about being there for Jack’s homecoming but the thought swiftly disappears, to be replaced by images of Gav and that lady, and the echo of Charlotte’s yapping in her ears. She needs to think about what she’s going to do. She’s filled with a deep, rotten hatred towards Charlotte G.

  ‘Isn’t that brilliant?’ says Charlo
tte, bouncing up and down on tiptoes. ‘You and Ella steering the ship together?’

  ‘Absolutely brilliant,’ replies Sarah. ‘Brilliant.’ She picks up her shopping. Screw the bran muffin, she thinks. She says goodbye to Charlotte, and marches off in search of the most sugary, buttery, icing-covered pastry she can find.

  LIZA

  It’s all quiet when we get home. The ambulance drivers stretcher Jack in and take him straight into the living room. Never in my life have I imagined having to see my own child in this situation. The relief he’s home is momentarily overshadowed by ‘what if’ scenarios and I’m flooded with feelings of anger, mainly at myself, that this has happened. He’s here. He’s OK, we can all move on from this, I tell myself again and again.

  ‘Here?’ the stocky, blonde-haired lady interrupts my thoughts. ‘On this one?’ Gav has managed to assemble a bed from upstairs which has been in boxes for months.

  ‘Thank you,’ I tell her. ‘That will be fine. My … Jack’s father is on his way so he can help if you need anything. He’s just gone to pick up some provisions.’

  ‘We’ve got it.’ The paramedics heave his small body up. ‘We’re used to this. You should see some of the people we have to lift.’ The woman pretends to mop her brow.

  I watch as they place my little boy onto the mattress. He stares up at the ceiling. I should have put something up there. Some pictures of superheroes. Or something. Why didn’t I think of all of this before? And then Mary comes downstairs.

  ‘Little one’s asleep.’ She puts her finger up to her mouth. ‘Oh, hello young man. Fancy seeing you here.’

  Jack smiles. A true Jack smile, for the first time since the accident. I look at the art-deco clock above the sofa – another one of Gav’s finds. I’ve never really liked it but he’d come home with it a few months ago, pleased as Punch. ‘Yes it’s lovely,’ I’d told him. ‘You can put it in the living room. Pride of place.’ Five hours until Mary leaves. Five hours until I have to do this alone – just me and an ex-husband to battle things out.

  ‘Listen.’ She walks over and puts her arm on mine. I start to cry. ‘Oh love. Listen. I thought I’d stay. Just for tonight. I’ve got no jobs until the day after tomorrow. I thought you might like some company whilst you settle in. Your … Gav, he said he was sleeping somewhere else tonight. Would you like that, love?’

  For one minute, I’m struck dumb by the kindness. At Ella having arranged for Mary to come in the first place. But then I wonder where else Gav can possibly be sleeping and how strange it is for him to do such a thing.

  ‘Oh, Mary, thank you. But I’m going to pay you. I can’t not.’

  ‘You are doing no such thing. I’d never expect payment for the likes of this little lad over here. And you.’ She walks over to Jack and perches on the bottom of his bed. ‘I’ve got a surprise for you. I’m Mary by the way.’ I watch as Jack’s throat bobs up and down. Another smile.

  ‘A surprise?’

  ‘Yup. Not from me actually.’

  ‘Ooooh, Jack, a surprise,’ I say. ‘And I know for a fact that you’ve got lots of other surprises coming. From all your friends.’ He smiles again.

  ‘This one’s a good one,’ says Mary. ‘Wait there.’ She quickly turns to me as she realises that, of course, Jack can’t go anywhere. We sit and wait and the female ambulance driver packs up and ruffles Jack’s hair.

  ‘You get well soon, young man,’ she says. ‘Now no climbing those tall posts.’ I freeze. Jack’s eyeline tracks me. I want to lean over and tell him it’s OK, but I’m so cross with her for interfering that I go down the hall and open the front door, waiting for them to leave.

  ‘Here we are.’ I go back into the room and watch as Mary comes out of the kitchen, holding a neatly wrapped parcel and a pair of scissors in her hand. ‘Jack? Are you ready?’

  ‘Yes, I’m ready,’ he says, his unbroken arm pounding excitedly into the mattress. His eyes swivel towards Mary. ‘What is it?’

  She unpeels the paper, pulls open a cardboard box. Then she slices through the tape and lifts out a small iPhone handset.

  ‘Oh my God,’ I say. I’ve banned Jack from my phone – predominantly because he is so bloody obsessed with the thing. I want to take it away from him but something stops me. I remember I’d promised Gav I’d get Jack a handset – that he’d be contactable at all times.

  ‘Now wait.’ She turns it over and peels off a little note and starts to read aloud. ‘This is not for watching videos, or for playing games. That’s for when you are a bit older. But I’ve pre-loaded a whole load of audio books that me and Felix think you will love. Maybe your little friend will come over and listen to some with you.’

  Ella. To the rescue, once again.

  I’m torn between feeling annoyed I hadn’t thought of doing that myself and guilt that I’d been so awful about Ella when I saw her at the crèche. Sarah has been right all this time. Ella Bradby is a mystery, but a good one. And then my mind turns to Sarah. It’s after lunch and I haven’t heard a thing from her. She’d promised she’d call me back. I check my phone quickly and scroll back to our last chats. There it is in black and white: Just trying to get rid of Charlotte G. Just bumped into her. Ring you in two, I promise. And then, when I hadn’t heard from her, I’d followed it up with another WhatsApp – Are you there?

  And she hasn’t even bothered to bloody answer. She’s read it, I can see that much. And she’s online. My finger hovers over the keypad, ready to chase her again – but then I stop. Why should it be me doing all the work?

  She’d also promised she’d come over when Jack got home. Surely she’ll turn up later? Really, what could have cropped up that she would jeopardise our friendship, especially at a time like this?

  I have more important things to think about. I know that. Honestly. Come on Liza. I can’t have high expectations all the time. But then I look at Jack’s face. His small hand stroking the iPhone screen like it’s a soft, furry animal. The sheer look of wonderment on his face. His other hand all strapped up. And I can’t help but think about just how attentive Ella has been.

  But then I wonder, what if something’s not right with all of this. That it’s weird for Sarah not to be phoning. Not to be texting or coming to see us. And that I should perhaps see if everything is OK. Maybe she’s having problems – like last year. Rosie. She’d made me promise never, ever to mention it again, which I’d honoured. But in return, she’d also promised she’d let me know if there was ever a problem. Just as I remind myself to ask if she’s OK, I’m distracted by the shiny screen of the handset. The list of new audio books and podcasts that flash up. Jack’s small fingers sticking out of the cast. The whiteness of the small crescents on his nails. And then Gav rings.

  ‘I was going to kip out tonight. Mary said she’d stay another night. But I think I’ll come back home after all. I was going to drop the shopping back anyway and get Jack settled. Don’t really want to be away from the kids.’ He gives a small chuckle down the phone except I don’t really know what is so funny.

  ‘You sure?’ I’m itching to ask him where he had been intending on staying.

  ‘I’m sure. See you later.’

  We both hang up and I stand for a moment, silent, still clutching the phone. Aware of the tension in my muscles I feel them freeze all over again. I hadn’t realised how much Gav’s presence had been constricting me. How his behaviour infiltrated all areas of my life – so that every action I made, every breath I took, was not without the menace of his voice in my head. What are you doing, Liza? Are you doing a good enough job? And then the other thoughts start. Memories surfacing. The birth. The blood. Jack. Those sleepless nights and the inky blackness shrouding my psyche. And then everything that followed. That night Ella had found me on the street, my skin dripping with sweat despite the freezing cold night, hair hanging damply around my cheeks. I shudder at the thought of what I’d done, desperately trying to stop those memories in their tracks.

  I put down my phone, take Jack’s
hand and squeeze it tight.

  ‘From Ella,’ I manage. ‘The mobile. She’s Mummy’s new friend. Isn’t she wonderful?’

  ‘Yes,’ says Jack settling on David Walliams, and pressing play. I think about the accident. How it could be a force for change. For bringing more positivity into my life. And if that means Ella Bradby stepping right in, I’ll welcome her with open arms. ‘Yes, she really is.’

  SARAH

  Her hair is damp from all the scrubbing and mopping. She’s changed one T-shirt already. She feels absolutely filthy and can’t wait to soak in a long, hot bath as soon as Casper has gone to bed. She glances over at her son. He’s busy working with a toy screwdriver, his tongue lolling out to the side like a dog. She is most satisfied that she’s managed to keep him off the television so far. Perhaps they’ll go up to the high street for a quick supper. She can’t even muster up the energy to cook an egg on toast. She doesn’t know why the thought of trekking out to a café in the freezing cold is easier than shoving an egg in a saucepan. But by God, it is. Her parenting standards are sinking by the minute. And her lungs are starting to feel a little tight. She picks up the mould remover and scans the label.

  It doesn’t say anything about fresh air, or toxic ingredients. But then she pulls up. Casper. What if it burns his little lungs? What if it isn’t suitable for children? Oh God.

  ‘Casper, out,’ she pulls him up by his arm. ‘Sorry. You can’t be in here.’ She feels like collapsing in on herself. What has she done now? She can’t even be trusted to keep her own son safe, let alone … oh heavens. ‘You can go and watch telly. Just for five minutes. Then we’re going to get something to eat.’

  She takes him up and settles him on the sofa and double locks the front door. Just in case. You can never be too careful, she thinks.

  ‘Listen. I’m just going to clean off the last of this stuff downstairs. OK? I won’t be long.’ But her son is categorically not interested in what she has to say. ‘Casper. Can you hear me? I’m going to the downstairs flat. All right? I’ll be five minutes.’ He manages to nod.