The Fallout

by Rebecca Thornton

  ‘Really? What about when you are apart?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s like he senses when there’s tension and he flips out. Gets all moody. So I’m trying desperately hard with Gav, I need to stay on his good side.’

  ‘Ah Liza. You have to forget just thinking about Gav. You need to look after yourself.’

  I’m not entirely sure what she means by that. If she thinks I’ve given myself over to Gav, she’d be right. But, then again, she doesn’t know the full story of everything that has gone on in our relationship.

  ‘It’s just that I think Jack has been way more traumatised about all this than I realised.’ I don’t want Sarah thinking it’s all about me and Gav. I can’t cope with her breathing down my neck about him as well. She’d been hinting to me for ages that she thinks he’s getting too involved in the way I parent. And then I’m struck with the persistent thought I might not be able to sleep again tonight, which in turn means I probably won’t. And then the panic sets in. I think back to how the insomnia affected my parenting before. How I can’t let that happen now – not with things as they are. I’ll have to do something about it, and quickly. Just then, the door whooshes open and Gav’s standing there with two more boxes.

  ‘Interrupting something, am I? You two putting the world to rights?’

  ‘No.’ Sarah crosses her arms, turning her back towards him and looking down at her phone again.

  It’s like she can barely look at him. How weird. For all Gav’s behaviour towards me in recent times, he and Sarah usually had some sort of banter going on. Does she know something I don’t?

  ‘Could you just put those boxes out there?’

  Gav looks at me, frowning. I shrug. He leaves the room.

  ‘Has Gav said something to you?’ I ask. ‘Or has he offended you somehow? You seem—’

  ‘No,’ she interrupts. ‘I just want things to be absolutely perfect for when you move in. I’m just making sure everything is right for you and comfortable for Jack. OK?’

  ‘All right. Thank you. You have no idea how much we appreciate it. How nice it is not to be alone. Especially now that Mary has gone.’

  ‘I bet. But Gav was with you before, wasn’t he? I mean, he didn’t move out and you said he gets up when you deal with the kids at night?’

  ‘Well, he gets up to … Oh, never mind. It’s all very tedious.’ I barely have the strength to deal with my own life, let alone others’ judgement of it. ‘I just need to focus on Jack.’ But it seems that Sarah’s wheels are set in motion now.

  ‘So Gav said he wanted a break – for a bit. Just after Thea was born. Don’t you think that’s a bit odd? And he still hasn’t explained to you why, but he thinks he can still tell you what to do? Is that right? Please,’ she pulls down her T-shirt over her thighs – a move she usually makes when she’s feeling deeply uncomfortable, ‘correct me if I’m wrong.’

  I want to tell her she’s being like a headmistress. But then I think of the pact we had made, Gav and I. How I’d broken it. How I couldn’t possibly tell Sarah – anyone – what I had done. How in parts, Gav has actually been protecting me and our family. If Sarah knew the truth, I doubt she’d ever want to be my friend again.

  ‘Anyway,’ Sarah goes on. ‘The day Gav was late to the hospital. Remember? When you told me he said he had a doctor’s appointment. Did you find out more about that?’

  If she’s somehow hinting that she’s got some sort of information on Gav, I don’t want to know what it is. But then I think of how he’s been taking more care over his appearance recently. His new washboard stomach. The way he’s been late to various things.

  ‘What? Sa – I don’t know why you’re bringing this up. What the hell have you got against Gav all of a sudden? You’ve had weeks to get used to the fact that he left us. Well, me. He left me.’

  ‘It’s nothing.’ She sighs. I think it’s all over but then she takes another deep breath and cocks her head. ‘So?’

  ‘So what?’

  ‘Did he tell you where he went? Why he was late? There must have been a good reason. You were furious, remember?’

  ‘Sarah, come on.’ I feel my whole body fire up. The way it does when I try and fall asleep at night. ‘Stop. You’re being weird. And super aggressive. I don’t like it. And you’ll wake Thea and they can probably hear you outside.’

  ‘Oh God.’ She slides her phone back into her pocket. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just very protective over you. That’s all. I didn’t like the way he was behaving towards you before all this happened. Even before you separated. It was like he wouldn’t let you have your own life.’

  ‘I know. But you don’t need to be. I’m fine, I can handle it. Jack is OK. We’re good. OK? So no need. Promise?’ But she doesn’t reply. She just looks to the door where we can hear Gav singing a song to Jack. I can’t possibly tell her a thing. And then we hear Gav’s phone ring. She looks over at me but I pretend not to notice.

  ‘Right. Sure,’ he’s saying to the person on the other end of the line. Who could he be speaking to?

  Then the door swings open and there he is, phone in hand, looking serious, his features pinched. I stand up, fearful of what’s coming. What could it be? Has something else bad happened? I can’t take any more bad news. He clears his throat.

  ‘I’ve just spoken to the manager at The Vale Club.’ Phew, I think. It’s OK. An update. I turn to Sarah and for a brief moment I think she’s got the hiccups. Her hand is placed flat against her breastbone, as though she can’t get enough air into her lungs. Gav looks over at her too, eyebrows raised.

  ‘Look, it’s all right,’ he says. ‘It’s just that they want you both in.’

  ‘Who?’ Sarah asks, as though she can’t grasp a single word of what Gav has been saying. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘The Vale Club. They’ve finished writing up the health and safety. They want you to go in so they can chat to you about what happened. Just before the fall. And during.’ I hear Sarah gasp again. ‘But, Sarah,’ Gav continues. ‘Apparently they’ve been trying to get hold of you? Said they’ve rung and left a few messages. I’ve told them I’ll email your number again or that you’ll go up. Maybe they took the wrong one down?’

  Sarah pulls her phone out from her back pocket and makes an exaggerated show of unlocking her screen, scrolling through her numbers. I notice she’s shaking.

  ‘No.’ She tries to put her phone back into her pocket but it clatters onto the floor. ‘Shit. God. No. Sorry. Weird. I’ve had no missed calls. Must have been the wrong number.’

  ‘OK,’ says Gav. ‘Well, they’re speaking to people, it’s good they’ve got the ball rolling. I’ve talked to someone already from the West London Gazette. Sarah, I said you’d be happy to talk to them too – in fact maybe they’ve already been in touch?’

  Sarah shakes her head again. ‘No,’ she says. ‘Weird. I’ll check again.’

  ‘And apparently some other news orgs are looking into it. A good sign. It means they’re taking it seriously. I want The Vale Club to know we won’t take this lying down if they are culpable in any way. And if they aren’t, then we need to raise awareness of this kind of thing happening. Get to the root of what happened.’

  I turn to Sarah and see she’s still got a hand clamped to her chest; she looks a little pale.

  ‘I might push the press a little bit more, too,’ continues Gav. ‘Make sure they don’t try and sweep it all under the carpet. You know how these places can be.’ He sounds lighter all of a sudden. ‘I told them they had to wait to speak to you properly. Liza, I know you’ve already given a statement but they want more details. That OK? And you, Sarah, I think I’ve mentioned this a few times, but they definitely want to speak to everyone who saw or spoke to Jack before the accident, so if you don’t hear from them could you drop in? Like, soon?’ He takes a breath, his eyes flickering to both of us.

  ‘Of course,’ I say and look over at Sarah whose anger towards Gav seems to have taken on a new life form. I think
about stepping in but Gav needs this – his control over The Vale Club investigation. It’s his way of making everything OK again. ‘Sa?’

  ‘Yup.’ She clasps her hands together. ‘Whatever you need.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ says Gav. ‘Thank you all. Right.’ He’s taken on an entirely new demeanour. ‘Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?’

  He doesn’t look at either of us – just walks out of the door, totally oblivious to the atmosphere he’s left behind. Sarah doesn’t even say goodbye, so I look over to her – the colour in her face is gone and she’s pulling out individual strands of hair, wrapping them tightly around her fingertips.

  ‘Sarah? You OK?’ I walk across the room. ‘Do you want a tea?’

  But she doesn’t respond. I’m about to yell to her again – tell her to wake up – but then I catch the look on her face. Those brown eyes of hers, frozen in one position. It’s almost like she’s not here, with me. As though her mind’s completely gone – like she’s trapped in her very own waking nightmare.

  To: G.Paphides@westlondongazette.com

  From: J.Roper@westlondongazette.com

  Hi George

  I’m so sorry to disturb you on your holiday. I know you told me not to and I’ve just been getting on with things. But I’ve been looking into the boy’s fall at The Vale Club. I hope you got my original email about that. I was just looking into it for a very small online report to keep members up to speed with things. But it seems to have caught on. And the preliminary investigations I’ve done make me think something is amiss. Just that – no one’s quite being straight with me. And a waitress overheard something pretty odd. And it doesn’t match with what the boy’s father is saying. Nothing concrete yet. Just a journalistic hunch so to speak! Could I look into it more? I would really love to get a cover story. I think this would be perfect.

  J

  From: G.Paphides@westlondongazette.com

  To: J.Roper@westlondongazette.com

  I’ve just caught up with your emails – I’ve been in the middle of a game reserve with no wifi.

  May I remind you that the West London Gazette is a family-friendly local paper – and may I also remind you that The Vale Club is one of our main sponsors for this year’s lifestyle magazine?

  Happy to give you a cover story when you find something in line with our editorial. I know you’ve been working hard and we appreciate it. You’ve done a great job since you started here and you’ve sailed through your internship and probation period. How about doing a more meaty feature – something about the new W4 development? A positive slant on what it’s doing for the community?

  If you want to look at something a bit more ‘investigative’ then please do something on the dog poo problem on the Chiswick / Acton fringes.

  Cheers,

  George.

  PS back in a week. Please hold the fort until then.

  WhatsApp group: Christmas fair committee

  Members: Ella, Ems, Liza, Sarah, Bella, Millie, Amina, Charlotte T, Charlotte G, Charlotte M, Amelia, Shereen, Fizz, Becky D, Becky G, Isa, Marion, Mimi, Camilla, Hozan, Weronika

  Created by Ella Bradby

  Ella: Typing …

  WhatsApp group: Stuff

  Members: Sarah, Camilla

  Camilla: Hang on – I thought you were doing this? Ella Bradby? How come she’s suddenly in charge? She’s been typing for hours. What the hell can she be saying?

  Sarah: Don’t. She’s taken over the whole thing now. Charlotte G organised things so that we’re now in charge ‘together’.

  Camilla: God. It’s mad. Anyway we can discuss over a nice lunch. I’ve managed to get a booking at the new rezzy! My treat. By the way … ALL the sponsorship money? Where the hell from?

  Sarah: Oh shit – thank you. I’m so sorry. I should have done it myself. Just had so much on. And who the hell knows. I can’t face asking. Can’t face the smugness of her reeling it all off. God help me.

  Camilla: Don’t worry at all. I said I’d help.

  Sarah: Oh for fuck’s sake. Incoming from Ella. What are they all on about now?

  WhatsApp group: Christmas fair committee

  Members: Ella, Ems, Liza, Sarah, Bella, Millie, Amina, Charlotte T, Charlotte G, Charlotte M, Amelia, Shereen, Fizz, Becky D, Becky G, Isa, Marion, Mimi, Camilla, Hozan, Weronika

  Ella: Dear all. Hello and welcome to the Christmas fair committee WhatsApp group!

  Sarah and I will be running the show. Please come to us with any questions. Let’s raise the roof for our children’s enrichment fund!!! Give them the best possible start in life.

  Please follow the school guidelines for the group: This group is to be used for Christmas fair committee communication ONLY. Sarah’s organised the coffee morning after drop-off today. Sarah, please ping the group with details and we’ll see you there.

  Charlotte G: Typing …

  Sarah: 10am at the Green Café. Looking forward to it.

  WhatsApp group: CFC board

  Members: Sarah, Ella

  Ella: For any Christmas fair committee communication between us two! Off the record, of course! And given I’ve got all the sponsorship money so far, you may want to take ownership of something for yourself. Just so it looks like things are fairly divided. We don’t want people thinking I’m doing all the work now, do we?

  Sarah: No. Of course not. I know there’s a lot to be done behind the scenes – I always hear there’s so much more to the school fair than just the money. Community spirit, for one. I’m sure you’ll agree. Anyway, see you later!

  SARAH

  Sarah’s phone hasn’t stopped pinging since she woke up this morning. She feels like throwing it out of the window. She can’t keep up. All these other mothers (again – where are the fathers in the group? Do they just silently lurk? Or do they just renege altogether? Seriously – where the fuck are they?) and how does everyone else have time to keep up with all the chats? Do they type in their sleep?

  ‘Tom, get Casper dressed for school. NOW!’ she bellows in a fit of misdirected rage. She’s still sore over the email from the journalist. The words keep ringing in her eyes, all day and all night. Gav Barnstaple said you’d talk to me.

  She hadn’t slept one wink last night, going over and over how she was going to avoid speaking to this J Roper character.

  ‘It’s late,’ she shouts down to Casper. ‘We’re going to be late on the first day back. And I’ve got so much to do.’

  Tom appears, skin red from his seemingly five-hour-long shower. ‘Sorry?’ He rubs the towel in his eardrum, shaking his hair like a dog. ‘What have you got on?’

  ‘The Christmas fair. I told you, I’m in charge. And I’ve got a meeting today too, as it happens.’

  ‘A meeting?’

  ‘A meeting.’ She still feels bad she hasn’t told him about the IVF appointment yet. But she’s since realised her silence is down to the fact that if it’s a problem on her side, she wants to find out without having the upset of seeing that delayed, lopsided smile Tom has when hiding disappointment. And if it’s her body, she’s sure the problem is going to be exacerbated from all this stress. And she can’t face him telling her he told her so. That having Liza and the kids move in with them was a huge mistake. That once again she’s putting everyone else before them.

  ‘Great. I’m so pleased. I wondered if you were getting a little bored. I thought that might have been why you were so keen to have Liza and the kids here. To fill your days a bit. Speaking of which – you can’t hear a thing, can you? Downstairs in the flat? It’s great.’

  She nods. Although she had heard ‘a thing’. In fact, she’d heard ‘things’ all night. Jack had been shouting at midnight. Thea had started to cry at two in the morning. And there was a strange clattering sound at around three thirty. And she hadn’t managed to get back to sleep. She’d lain there, heart racing its usual panicked rhythm, alternately trying to work out if she should go down and help, and relentlessly checking her email for any more communicatio
n about the fall.

  She rubs away the familiar sinking sensation from her stomach, the guilt that has been growing and multiplying like soap suds, and now with Gav prodding her to go and talk to management at The Vale Club, she can’t stop repeating her lines, over and over: He was fine. Bottom of the post. Playing. I waved.

  ‘You think I’m bored?’ She manages to keep her voice steady. Lord knows how. ‘Bored? I don’t have much time to be bored. What with Casper, and his school stuff and running the house.’

  ‘Let’s not have this row now, shall we? Casper?’ he shouts. ‘Casper? Up here now.’

  She hears the scramble of feet up the stairs. Why can’t he do that when she shouts his name?

  ‘I’m going down to do breakfast,’ she says. ‘Casper, you want porridge?’

  ‘No. Chocolate.’

  ‘You can’t have chocolate for breakfast.’

  ‘Sweets.’

  ‘You can’t have sweets for breakfast.’

  ‘Crisps.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake,’ she mutters. ‘OK, how about porridge and honey?’

  ‘Yes, yes.’

  ‘Please, Mummy?’

  ‘Please, Mummy.’

  She goes downstairs, her phone still buzzing in her dressing gown pocket. Despite being awake since the very early hours, she still hasn’t managed to get dressed. The act of putting her jeans on, a quick slick of make-up (Why do you bother? You’re only going on the school run, Tom would ask daily), felt all too much for her. She daren’t even think about how she looks at the moment. The worst triumvirate: drawn, tired and plump. She thinks about how pulled together Ella will look at the Christmas fair meeting. Stop comparing – you have attributes that Ella doesn’t have, she tells herself, but when she tries to think of them, her mind is mysteriously empty.

  She pulls out her phone. Sarah’s organised the meeting, Ella has written on the WhatsApp group. Organised? Organised! She’d told everyone where the meeting was going to be. That had been the extent of her organisation. What else did it require?