Gav. Everything becomes very clear to her now. Everything. It meant that she’d never tell the truth now about what happened about The Vale Club. It would all get too ugly, for Liza. If Gav for one minute thought that Liza had been neglectful in her maternal care, that she had chosen to take Sarah’s word for it, things could get very dangerous for her friend indeed. A series of images scroll through her mind, each one making her gasp aloud. No – she could never, ever let Gav find out.
She’s going to be decisive in her actions. Liza needs protecting. She needs love and support from her friends. Not snarky comments and bad behaviour. Sarah feels horrendous about the earlier harsh words spoken between them. But, thank God she hadn’t replied to the journalist. Thank God she had moved Liza in, safe from harm. And thank God she hadn’t yet spoken to the club. She’d had a constant low-level thought that she’d just come out with the truth at any given point, the facts bursting from her like an unchecked dam. But, now, if anything is going to set her decision about what she was going to tell them – it was this.
She wipes her face, tears all over her cheeks. Her absolute worst fears have been confirmed. The thoughts she’d stumbled upon and tried to dismiss – to bat away because they were too awful to contemplate. They are true and she needs to hurry and do something, before her friend is put in a very real and present danger.
LIZA
I hadn’t initially thought about dressing up for Gav tonight. After all, he seems so disinterested in me I didn’t think he’d even notice. But after I’d seen Sarah’s expression before I’d got into the shower this morning – eyes wide and mouth dangling open before she’d quickly snapped it shut, no doubt gawping at the flab of my belly and my untamed body hair – I decided I need to make an effort. There was after all, I told myself, a difference between dressing for a man and a little bit of self-respect.
I think about mine and Sarah’s earlier row. In five years of friendship, we’ve never raised voices at each other, yet her insistence that I stay away from Gav had made me completely lose it. Sarah – once again getting fixated on an idea, thinking she knows best, burying her way into people’s lives, their relationships. Like with Ella Bradby. Why can’t she just keep out of it and focus on the train wrecks in her own life, I think, with a stab of guilt. I resolve to try and focus on mine and Gav’s supper tonight and put our argument to the back of my mind. I’ll see if she comes and apologises to me later – after all, it’s her who’s been acting so strangely.
‘Hey Franny,’ I shout to Jack’s tutor, ‘mind if I take Thea really quickly to the shops? You all right to stay here with Jack? Jack darling, is that OK?’ He doesn’t reply. I hope he hasn’t been affected by mine and Sarah’s argument; we didn’t exactly keep our voices down.
‘Course,’ says Franny. ‘I’m here for another two hours so take your time.’
I go and buy the finest fillet steak from the local butcher’s. Then I get a nice bottle of red. By the time I get home, there’s even enough time for me to do a full beauty routine.
I choose a jumpsuit from Whistles, which I’ve never worn. One of those that I’ve been saving for a special occasion, the likes of which had never really turned up – meaning it was still in its packaging in my drawer. I wax, moisturise, slip on the jumpsuit and put on some make-up. I even straighten my hair. I feel lighter, somehow. The guilt still simmers away; about the fall and that memory of Gav and Jack all those years ago, and the things said and done afterwards. But it is time to move on, despite what Sarah says. A small part of me wonders whether she is right, or if she can see something I can’t. But tonight, we are going to be a family, and whatever his intentions are – to stay or go – I’m going to be an adult about this. Besides, Sarah knows nothing about the side of things that I’ve kept behind closed doors.
By the time Gav arrives, I’ve managed to put Thea down. I reapply my make-up, rolling on another layer of deodorant.
‘Gav,’ I open the door. He responds well to me. Smiles that great big grin of his and walks right on through, as though there’d never been anything wrong in our marriage in the first place. I think about when we’d first met. And our wedding day – under a tree with his mates’ band playing in the corner of his aunt’s Hampshire garden. Me in a flowing, vintage gown, him in a suit looking dapper, a top hat in his hand. Both my parents had been alive, Mum in her wheelchair waiting for me at the end of the aisle. Those were better days. I can’t quite compute that this is where we are now. But of course we are, I tell myself. Where else would we be after I’d done what I had?
‘Hello, you look nice.’ He passes me a bunch of flowers. ‘I thought you could do with these.’
‘Thank you. I’ve made you steak. Jack is awake still but I’m going to put an audio story on for him in a bit. You go in and talk to him. I’ll get dinner finished.’
‘Wow. Thanks.’
‘And I’ve got that wine you like too.’ I feel my cheeks reddening. ‘I mean, I know this is not, like … it’s just that I thought you might like some. I’m not drinking tonight. Got awful insomnia.’
‘Sure. A glass would be lovely.’ He walks over to Jack. I hear them laughing together. I put some poivre sauce on the hob and take him a glass of red and some Twiglets, his favourite snack. It feels comforting to be like this. As a family, despite this limbo. I pour myself a ginger ale and sit, waiting for Jack to sleep.
By the time he’s gently snoring, supper is on the table.
‘You seem – stronger?’ Gav says. ‘Better than I’ve seen you for ages.’
I want to tell him everything – that I actually feel so fragile, and where I’d been yesterday. But I keep my mouth shut. I don’t want the night to end in tears, in memories and recriminations. And, worst of all, Gav’s panic.
‘Thank you.’ I pour him some more wine. ‘You good?’
‘I’m well. Thank you.’ He tips his wine glass towards me. ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers,’ I say, holding up my drink.
‘We haven’t done this for a long time, have we?’
I want to tell him that that’s not down to me. But again, I’m quiet. It seems that everything is loaded. ‘I know. We should do it more often.’ I nod my head towards Jack’s direction. ‘For the kids’ sake if anything. Be grown-ups about it all.’
‘I don’t think it was me who wasn’t being the grown-up,’ he says. I snap my head up. Here we go. But I look up and see he’s laughing. ‘Just kidding. I know how I can be sometimes.’
‘Do you?’
‘I do. And I know that, well – I could have played things differently that time. After Jack was born.’ I watch the bob of his Adam’s apple. ‘Perhaps we wouldn’t be in this mess now. I think perhaps – maybe we should have spoken to someone. Together.’ I want to interrupt here – tell him what I’ve done – but he is rarely this open, so I let him carry on. ‘Not buried our heads in the sand. It sank us – what happened. Didn’t it?’
‘Yes it did. I’m learning too, Gav. I am.’
‘Cheers again.’ He lifts his glass into the air.
‘Oh, that reminds me,’ I say. ‘About speaking to someone,’ I falter. ‘I thought we should get Jack some therapy. Of some sort. Talk to someone about the fall. I don’t know what kind. But he’s having trouble. He’s really struggling. He’s been OK with you but he hasn’t seen you that much.’ I try and keep the accusation out of my voice. ‘I mean, I know how much you’ve been checking up on them,’ I add quickly, ‘I’m not saying …’
‘I know you aren’t. It’s OK. Don’t worry. Sure.’ I know Gav’s trying to level out his own emotions too. ‘That’s a good idea. I think that would be helpful. It had crossed my mind too actually.’
‘I was worried you’d dismiss me.’
‘Oh God. Liza. I’m sorry you thought that. For all your no-nonsense you’re quite a softie at heart, aren’t you.’ He reaches over and takes my hand again. ‘I know someone actually. Katy. She deals in post-traumatic stress disorder. And she’s just start
ing to take kids on. She’s great. She used to go out with Gordo. Remember him?’
‘That funny guy who went to Zimbabwe for work and ran off with someone?’
‘Yup. That’s the one.’
‘Well – what does she do? Can she help? I’ve asked Jan to look into it but if you think this is better, then I’m all for it.’
‘I’m absolutely sure she can. She owes me a favour or two. She does something called scrambling. Helps people relive the moments before a trauma. Then she helps them replay the memory, whilst scrambling it.’
‘Scrambling? Like … eggs?’
‘They put the memory to funny music, or speed it up. Put some comic motion to it so the memory loses its poison. She helps the body release the trauma too. Something I’d have dismissed as crap in my twenties.’ He bites his thumbnail. I think of Gav and the things he’s been through too. The foster care and the generally shitty upbringing.
‘Sounds amazing,’ I say. ‘Thank you.’ We’re still holding hands. There’s no weirdness surrounding it. He squeezes my fingers. I can do this, I think. Whatever happens, I’ve got this. The room goes silent, both of us lost in thought. He looks like he wants to say something, but then we both hear a thud coming from upstairs.
‘What the hell was that?’ And then screams and shouts. It’s Sarah. My first thought is that she’s been burgled. But then I can hear Tom too.
‘No,’ he’s shouting. ‘I refuse to believe it.’ I know that voice of Tom’s. Irritation with a creep of panic. Then I can hear footsteps.
‘He’s here,’ Sarah’s shouting. ‘He’s here now. He’s in the downstairs flat.’
They’re coming closer to the door. My heart speeds up. I look at Gav. He’s holding one finger up to his lips.
‘What the hell?’ I whisper but the words get stuck in my throat. And she’s going on and on. I wonder if I should mention to Gav what happened earlier, the argument. Tom is telling her to be quiet but she’s getting louder and louder, her screams are getting more and more shrill. And then it goes silent, except for small sobs that I can hear not far from where we are sitting. She must be sitting right at the top of the stairs that lead down to our basement. The swishing in my stomach is becoming almost unbearable. I reach for Gav’s glass.
‘What’s going on?’ he says. ‘What the hell is going on?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say, but I’m shaking. ‘I haven’t heard them before now, I didn’t know you could hear anything upstairs.’
And then it goes totally silent. Nothing. Which in itself feels even more disconcerting. I get up and crane my neck towards where Jack is sleeping. No movement.
‘What did she mean, he’s here?’ Gav says. ‘Was she talking about … me? What’s the big deal?’
‘I don’t know what her problem is, it’s scaring me,’ I tell him.
I’ve been hiding so much, from everyone and myself, it feels good to finally speak the truth. I say it again. ‘I just don’t know.’
West London Gazette editorial notes, October 2019
J Roper interview transcript: Angela Harrington, witness, The Vale Club
I was there when it happened. The poor mother was inside – watching her kid from the table that overlooks the playground.
All I hear now is that everyone’s talking about her, saying what a bad parent she is. Well – all I can say that it was totally different in my day. None of this new-fangled helicopter-parenting and the likes. That poor woman probably just needed a little break. She doesn’t deserve all of this nasty stuff.
It seems that everything now is based around this strange parenting anxiety in these modern times. People terrified that the world is going to end up in chaos – what with political and climate change. Economic uncertainty. So of course they do everything they can to protect their kids from all of that. And then there’s the internet. I’m a member of this grandmas’ site. Support for grandparents who do some of the childcare. I’m always aghast at what’s on it. And then on the mums’ sites too: ‘breastfeeding only, no sugar, no playing in mud because of parasites, play in mud because if you don’t get germs then you’ll get leukaemia, sleep with your kids for a year, don’t sleep with them or they’ll get too attached …’ It’s never-ending.
No wonder the parents nowadays have so much pressure on them. It’s awful. But then there’s not the childcare support to go with it, is there? Unless you’ve got pots of money.
You see in my day none of this existed. We just played outside, entertaining ourselves in this blissful ignorance.
So really, I just thought to myself that this poor woman – she was probably just tired. She probably needed a break, and to sit down and have a cup of coffee. And well – bad stuff happens.
I told my daughter-in-law all of this when I dropped off Gracie but she got very cross with me. Said that if this mum couldn’t look after her kid then maybe she should get childcare. I said maybe she couldn’t afford it and then she went mad and said if she could afford The Vale Club, she could afford childcare. I don’t think that’s true. She just chose to spend her money on the health club. And she needed a rest. But I daren’t say that at all. I once had a big row with them and I wasn’t allowed to see my Gracie for a fortnight. So now, I just shut my mouth, you see.
Except really, it seems like I’m the only one. It’s all anyone can talk about around here. Wherever I go – shops, tea parties, lunches – the rumours, the whispers about what really happened, about who is to blame, they’re everywhere. It seems I’m best out of it. I don’t really want to join that vipers’ nest, even though I was actually there when it happened. But that’s the decision I’ve made. To sit there quietly whilst the noise buzzes around me. I shut my mouth and get on with it.
SARAH
Her whole body aches. Her eyes sting, her muscles clenched tight. She’s been sitting on the same step for twenty minutes now, stroking patterns into the carpet with her fingertips. Tom has stormed upstairs and Casper is watching PAW Patrol.
She had told Tom everything. The minute he’d walked through the door. He’d barely had a chance to take his coat off before she launched into the whole sorry lot.
‘Here!’ She had thrust her computer under his nose. ‘Look what I found, Tom. Look – this is where Liza went yesterday. You know anything at all about this?’
He had put down his old, black briefcase and held up his hands. ‘Hang on, Sa, I have no idea what you are talking about. Just give me a minute. I need the loo. And listen. I can’t. Not right now … I’ve got a lot going on at work. Can this all just wait?’
She had waited for him right outside the bathroom door. ‘No. I need to talk to you,’ she had persisted, over the flush of water. ‘Listen to this.’ She explained the bits of the puzzle that she had pieced together from years ago. She’d remembered other bits too, after she’d spent hours staring open-mouthed at the computer screen. Things Liza had said that now made sense. ‘Did you know that this was happening?’
‘Sarah – you are off your nut. What the hell is up with you at the moment? You’re talking rubbish. Listen, I need to speak to you.’ But before he can finish his sentence she starts to shake his elbow and jabs her finger on the keyboard. ‘Look. Can’t you see now what’s been going on?’
‘Sarah, they’ve been our friends now for over five years. I think we’d know if there was anything amiss. Or rather, anything as bad as this. Don’t you? Listen please, just take a breath for a minute and stop being irrational.’
‘Irrational? Are you going to tell me I’ve got PMT too?’ She starts to shriek at this point, the tone of her voice wandering into alto territory. ‘Tom, you need to fucking well listen to me. Think about it. Liza disappearing after Jack was born. Gav going AWOL. Liza not breathing a word of it to me – her best friend. It’s really weird, Tom. Something is going on – has been for years. I never thought to question it that time Liza went off the map. Just thought she had postnatal depression after Jack. I mean, I was hardly in a position to help too mu
ch, was I? I did as much as I could. But now I see – it wasn’t that. It wasn’t that at all. And now Gav going off again and that weird controlling thing? And if you must know, he’s seeing someone else.’
‘What? Sarah, seriously. You’re beginning to scare me. You’re frantic, come and sit down …’
‘Are you listening to anything that I’m saying?’
‘I am. I hear you. But you’ve been behaving so oddly lately that I’m not sure if anything you’re saying is rooted in reality.’
She knows she shouldn’t question her own mind. That everything surrounding the accident has made her feel stressed – but she also knows what she saw. She knows that Liza is not in a safe place. She knows that Gav is dangerous.
‘You arsehole,’ she hisses. ‘Don’t try and fuck with me. Listen to what I’m telling you.’
‘Look, see? You can’t talk to me rationally. You’re letting this get out of control, Sarah. Gav’s a good bloke. Sure, they’ve had rough patches, but you can’t seriously think …’
It’s at this point that she’d turned on her foot, stormed from the room and slammed the door. She is so enraged at Tom’s reaction that she can’t think straight. He’d looked at her like she’d totally lost her mind. Maybe she had? She doesn’t know anything any more.
The Fallout Page 23
