The Fallout

by Rebecca Thornton

  ‘Ella, my God. I think I’ve made an awful mistake. I’ve got to go.’ She straightens her back. ‘They’re going to take the kids. Oh my God. Jack. They’ll think …’ She can now barely get her words out she’s crying so much. ‘They’ll think that the fall was their fault. They’ll think, oh my God. Ella, you promise you’ll be here with me?’ she presses, one more time. ‘Promise?’ She cannot do this alone.

  She’s fully expecting Ella to tell her where to go. To give her that annoying once-over she does, eyes sweeping the full length of her body, lips in a barely there pout. But Ella doesn’t. She stands up off the sofa, and then reaches an arm out. This is the very moment that Sarah realises how bad things have got.

  And then her phone pings. It’s Liza.

  Social services are here. What the hell?

  ‘Oh my God,’ she gasps. ‘Ella. They’re there. They are there already. Social services. I thought I had time. I … I … I only rang early yesterday evening.’

  ‘Well, I suppose if they thought kids were in danger,’ Ella says helplessly. ‘They’d move pretty fast. Wouldn’t they? Even on a weekend.’

  Sarah’s legs have frozen. She tries to pick one up but cannot, like she’s stuck in quicksand. ‘What have I done?’ But then she feels Ella’s fingers digging into her skin.

  ‘Sarah, listen to me.’ Her shoulders are being shaken now. ‘You need to move. You need to get there quick. Do you understand me?’ Sarah tries to speak but nothing comes out. ‘You need to go now. Are you listening? Do you want to fix this?’

  ‘I do,’ the words come out in great gulps, as though she’s surfacing from being held down underwater. ‘Yes. Of course.’

  ‘Then go,’ Ella says quietly. ‘You need to run.’

  West London Gazette editorial notes, October 2019

  J Roper interview transcript: Freelance mums’ group, The Vale Club

  Ade: We started this club – a freelance working mums’ club for those of us who have just had babies and are slowly getting back into work.

  Jane: It’s to save our sanity. After we became mums we lost our senses of selves really. So we needed the company. We all met here.

  Frankie: And we can do our exercises and then meet up and work together on our various projects whilst the kids are with the nannies. There’s a few of us now. We help each other out. Because it can be really lonely otherwise. New mums trying to identify with an old self that’s nearly disappeared.

  Georgina: Yeah – straddling these two different worlds – we want to be our old selves but we don’t know quite how to follow the rules of our ‘new’ post-baby selves. It’s quite a learning curve so it’s amazing to have other people going through the same thing.

  Jane: Yeah – at least we’ve got each other now.

  Ade: It’s true. I struggled the most with my first holiday with bub. I went with loads of mates who weren’t parents. Some of them don’t want kids. Some of them aren’t ready. Christa was only six months. I tried to be my old self with them all – putting Christa to bed and then getting absolutely smashed like I used to. I’d then have to get up at six a.m. whilst the rest of them would lie in bed all day and I’d be alone with the baby waiting for everyone to wake up. I know better now – but it’s that weird in-between stage that’s the toughest. Look – I’m not moaning. We all know how lucky we are. I mean, some of us have been through gruelling rounds of IVF to get here.

  Georgina: Yeah, it’s this weird thing where people think we’re ungrateful if we say it’s tough.

  Jane: We’re getting there, though, aren’t we? But – anyway – we were all there the day of the fall and actually we didn’t see what happened. It’s just that we wanted to show that mum some solidarity. We’ve all seen the hate and rumours and online vitriol towards her. But it wasn’t her fault. I mean, I’m sure when our kids are old enough we’ll be doing the same thing.

  Ade: It’s so true. I’m so glad we spoke out. If we can make her feel a tiny bit better after what happened, we will.

  LIZA

  ‘If you could just …’ Craig from social services motions towards Gav. ‘I need time with Liza. Alone. Thank you.’ Gav is too shocked to say or do anything but stand there with his mouth open.

  ‘What is this all about?’ Gav shushes Thea and picks up her bottle. ‘Can you at least tell me? This is my wife and my kids we’re talking about. This is my …’ He shuts his mouth before he realises it’s not his home. ‘You think I’m leaving you alone with them?’

  I watch Gav’s jaw set – his temper starting to rise. He’s been better in the past few days – but maybe now he’s going to completely lose it. Please, Gav. I breathe great gulps of air, hoping it will signal my internal danger radar to switch off. If I’m calm, maybe Gav will be too.

  ‘I showed Liza this before but please,’ Craig pulls a laminated identification from his pocket, ‘take a look.’

  Gav peers over and makes a big show of looking at the photo on the card, and then up to Craig’s face. ‘You have to tell me what you are doing here.’

  ‘I need to discuss things with your wife.’

  ‘Gav.’ I pat him on the shoulder. ‘Just let me find out what he has to say.’ I want Gav just to do as he’s told, so I can get this over and done with and find out what the hell is going on. I feel bad for my earlier suspicion that Gav has orchestrated everything – that he was being nice so that he could get social services involved. He quite clearly has absolutely no idea what is going on.

  ‘Gav.’ I speak quite firmly now. ‘You need to go. Just out for a walk. Around the block. Take Thea and I’ll put an audio book in Jack’s headphones. He won’t be able to hear us in the kitchen. Just, please.’

  Gav gives Craig one final look and moves towards the door, hoisting Thea’s pram up the basement stairs, before turning around and pointing a finger at him.

  ‘Just so you know, if you …’ But he pulls up and doesn’t finish what he’s going to say. ‘Make it quick.’ And then he gives me a look – one of reassurance.

  ‘Tea?’ When Gav’s gone, I go to the kitchen cupboard but I’m struggling to send messages from my brain to my hands and I keep nearly dropping things.

  ‘Water. Please.’

  ‘Right.’ I fill up a glass and bring it over to where Craig has pulled up an old wooden chair, well away from Jack right under the window. ‘Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on, please?’ I want to shake him to hurry up. I think that my heart might actually explode in my mouth if he doesn’t just come out with it.

  ‘I’m an emergency social services worker. And you are a priority call today. Because we’ve had a warning that you’re being hurt, Liza.’

  ‘Hurt?’ I almost let out a snort. ‘Do you mean …’

  ‘Hurt. Physically. By your husband. A Mr Gavin Barnstaple.’ I can’t quite process his words but I take in just enough that I need to check that Jack can’t hear me.

  ‘Jack darling?’ I shout, but there’s no response. I turn back to Craig. ‘Sorry? Hurt me? Why, yes he hurt me because he left me but …’

  ‘He has?’

  ‘I mean, we’re not together any more.’ I twist my fingers. ‘We …’

  ‘Could you explain further please?’

  ‘Well, we’re separated. Me and Gav. He split up with me quite recently. A month or so ago. We’re not together. So yes, he hurt me in that sense.’

  ‘Ms Barnstaple.’ I wonder what’s warranted me being downgraded – or upgraded – to the use of my surname. ‘I’m asking you if your husband is putting you in physical danger. You, or the children.’ He looks over at Jack. ‘We’ll be needing to discuss the fall with you. Jack’s fall, too. It’s quite procedural. Once a child has been in hospital. But we also got a phone call alerting us to what might be going on in your household, and of course,’ Craig picks up the glass of water and glugs it back in one, ‘my colleague tried to get hold of you and it seems you’ve been avoiding us. We know you must feel too frightened to talk to us.’

/>   This situation is all too peculiar. I’m wondering if I’ve heard him right.

  ‘You think Gav’s been, what, physically hurting me? Is that what someone told you?’ I can’t believe it. Someone’s actually rung up social services and told them Gav’s been abusing me. Who would do such a thing? Does someone have it in for Gav? Does someone believe it’s true? Oh my God. ‘I need to sit down. Sorry.’ It’s so confusing I can’t gather my thoughts.

  ‘It’s OK. Take your time.’ He slides his thumbnail down the ridge of his water glass. ‘We’re in absolutely no rush.’

  ‘No. He has never, ever laid a finger on me.’

  ‘You sure? You can trust us, Liza. We won’t be doing anything unless you ask for our help.’

  ‘I’m quite, quite sure.’

  ‘And,’ he clears his throat. ‘Emotional abuse. There’s been some concern that your husband has been, well, using methods of coercive control. With you.’

  I stop. I think about the tactics Gav has used to keep me, well, under control. I can’t deny that some of them, in isolated cases, have been – well – what could be classed as abusive.

  ‘Well.’ I feel like I’m under oath. ‘No.’ I want to talk but I find myself absolutely silenced. Muted. Like those mime artists, I start to move my hands around. I almost burst into laughter. I look like Peter Crouch doing the robot dance.

  ‘Liza? Are you OK? Do you need some time?’

  ‘No. No – I don’t. Everything’s fine. I just don’t know why you are here.’ I panic that I’m going to get in trouble for lying. I know that’s not the point of social services. That they’re not cross-examining me. But I feel that way. ‘Please. I think you should leave now. Thank you ever so much for coming. Whoever called you made a massive mistake.’ I give a false laugh. ‘You must get that all the time. Revenge? People looking to prank other people? Weird pranks if you ask me but, you know, it takes all sorts.’

  ‘So Gav never controls you? Bullying, gaslighting? And what about the kids? Does he control the way you bring them up too? Isolate you all from your friends and family? Because these days, we class that behaviour as emotional abuse, Liza, and if it’s happening with both you and the kids – we can get you some help.’

  With the kids. That’s when I know I need him out. If he starts looking more closely – looking into our past, questioning Gav – things might come out that might destroy everything. Destroy me.

  ‘No.’ I stand up and start walking to the door. ‘Never. He’s a good husband and a good father.’ I don’t falter on the words. Gav’s behaviour has been far from perfect in the past few years, but he’s had his reasons, I suppose. And I don’t need to look very far to know what those reasons are.

  ‘OK. Thank you. Well, just to let you know that we’re here if you need anything. Our number one priority is looking out for you and your children, Liza. So, I’ll be around again to check everything’s OK and to speak to your kids. Speaking of which,’ he throws his head towards Jack, ‘how is he doing? I heard he fractured his neck in the fall. It’s so awful.’

  ‘I know, poor thing. Been a bit traumatised.’ I keep my tone light and breezy. I want him out of here as soon as possible. ‘But me and his father have done a really good job of keeping him sane and happy.’

  ‘Well, we’re going to be sending round a health visitor to see you and your son next week. Just for a check-up and to discuss things. As I said, my colleague said she spoke to you.’

  ‘Spoke to me?’ I’m totally baffled now but I don’t want to labour the point. I just want him out of the house. ‘Yes. Yes she did,’ I mutter.

  ‘Fine. I’ll get her to ring again first thing tomorrow. And this isn’t your normal home, is that right?’

  ‘That’s right. We’re on one floor here. My friend Sarah offered as the flat was going free. It’s easier.’

  ‘So I took a quick look at your notes. The hospital visits you’ve made. You’ve had your usual admissions for the past few years,’ he says, looking down at his hands. ‘There’s been the croup, and the influenza. The usual. And there was something else.’

  The lights above me start flickering. Or maybe it’s my eyes. I can’t quite tell. But I know what’s coming. Everything around me starts to lurch. He’s been waiting for this moment. To trap me. What if they take them, I think. What if they take my children? Gav and I had made a promise to each other. I hear Craig’s voice start up again and all of a sudden I’m absolutely desperate for Gav to come back.

  ‘In December 2014 your husband brought you into the hospital at two in the morning, with Jack. He was two months old. There was also a phone call, logged to the police, saying you’d gone missing, which was then retracted. Can I ask you about this?’

  ‘Sure.’ I will the words to start flowing. ‘Of course you can.’ I have them ready in my head, just in case this day ever came. It’s all so hazy, what happened around then, and, out of nowhere, I think of Ella and her face. I’m just walking the dog, she’d said that night. I shut my eyes. ‘One second.’

  Just as I’m about to start talking, we hear a strange panting sound outside the door. Like a dehydrated animal. And then a groaning. We look through the window of the basement to see a figure hunched over double outside, hair in a messy top-knot. Sarah. She’s wearing that huge coat she got from Zara that she bought because she thought it made her look smaller. She’s knocking on the window now and then she starts pummelling on the door.

  ‘It’s me,’ she’s shouting. I get up. ‘Open. Quick.’ She catches sight of Craig. Is something wrong, I wonder. I start to jog towards her. Casper? Tom? Maybe something awful has happened.

  ‘Ella,’ she gasps. ‘She was meant to be staying at home but she’s coming. I just got a text from her. She’s coming too.’ She sucks at the air. ‘I’ve come,’ she says again.

  ‘What have you come for?’ I turn to Craig and back to Sarah. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘That’s what I’m here for,’ she says again. ‘I’m here to make everything right. I’m here to sort it all out.’ She takes another deep breath, and pushes herself, her coat shushing against the walls. Just as I’m about to slam the door, I see a shadow, darkening the entire wall outside. I examine it. A long, low ponytail. Sleek, flat hair. I recognise her straight away. It’s Katy here too, early for the assessment with Jack.

  ‘I’m here. It was me. I’m sorry. I called you,’ Sarah cries, sticking out her hand to Craig. ‘It was a mistake. I’m sorry. I was,’ she looks around the room, ‘I was drunk. I’d had a row with Liza. I was angry.’

  Craig is looking flummoxed. ‘We still have to look into each and every case. So I’ll still be investigating.’ Now he looks at her with sorrowful eyes.

  ‘Katy,’ I call, as she steps into the room. ‘Can you please go and check on Jack? Is that OK? We can start his session soon.’ My voice sounds all stretched. And then just as I’m about to turn to Sarah and ask her what the hell she’s been playing at, I see Gav’s face at the window. I’m trying desperately to tell him, through some kind of weird telepathy, that Craig knows about my hospital visit all those years ago, but he’s just looking at me blankly, throwing his hands up in the air. Then he sees Sarah and looks even more confused.

  Gav, I think. Please, please. Stick to the game plan. Don’t think I’ve told Craig the truth. Please. I’m almost in tears, silently talking to Gav through the airwaves. If you do this one thing, Gav, I’ll be yours forever more. Whatever you want from me, I’ll give it to you.

  Mumsandmore forum, new thread: #boyfallatTheValeClub

  Mumofdd2: Guys – What do you make of that boy falling? I mean, I don’t want to be judgy or anything – but, where was the mum? Just wondering …

  Unicornlover: You don’t want to be judgy?????

  Mumofdd2: No. I just want to know where she was. Apparently she was nowhere near where the accident happened. Just wondered what you all make of it? I mean … I’m not saying I’m perfect …

  Unicornlover: No. You’re c
ertainly not that.

  Mumofdd2: No need to get narky @unicornlover. I’m just trying to have a real discussion here about things to do with our DDs.

  Unicornlover: The mother probably went to get a coffee or something. Have you never done that? And if not, then you’re a better person than 99.999999% of the rest of us parents. I suggest now you get a life.

  Mumofdd2: I have a life. Thank you very much. And a very fulfilled one too. I suggest you stop being so rude. I thought this was a safe space, where we could discuss things together.

  Unicornlover: Well, I thought you’d have gathered from the title of your thread that there are no safe spaces in this world, Mumofdd2. #accidentshappen.

  GAV

  So you want me to start from the beginning, do you? I can certainly do that, Mr … Craig? Sorry, I’ve forgotten what it says on your badge. Travers. Mr Travers.

  It was a tricky time, you see. Me and Liza. We’d just had Jack. So we were new parents. Anxious. Always making sure he was OK. But you know what it’s like when they’re first here. It’s all new. Lovely, lovely little boy he was. Still is. But you should have seen him when he was born. Here. Let me show you a pic. This is him. Beautiful little chappie.

  But in those first few months, he suffered from the most dreadful colic. Awful. Poor lad. Screamed day in, day out. Liza had terrible insomnia anyway. That started when she was pregnant. But it just got worse and worse. Are you a dad yourself? Then you’ll totally remember, I’m sure, what those first days are like. So we went to the hospital because – well – Liza wasn’t coping with Jack’s colic. I’d been out one night – I’d gone straight from work so I hadn’t seen them all day. I came back. Poor Jack was in a dreadful state. We were worried about him then. Really worried. Actually, I think Liza thought something was really badly wrong with him. You see, we had no reference point. They don’t tell you about things like that, do they? So she got the proper fear in her. We drove to the hospital in the middle of the night. Just to get him checked over. But they told us he was absolutely fine. That it was colic. They gave us some medicine.