But you know, if your baby is screaming like that and won’t stop, you might think you were missing something. You read all those stories, don’t you. Twisted intestines, the beginnings of sepsis. All the rest. And of course your rational brain is telling you: You’d know if something was wrong. And then there’s that other constant little tic: What if you’re wrong? What if your child is dying and you did nothing? Then what? And it’s hard to keep a check on it. Isn’t it? When they’re new. You’re learning on the job.
Anyway, at the hospital they got totally the wrong end of the stick. Thought that Liza had walked out on Jack. Silly really. I’d rung the police earlier, you see, as I couldn’t find her. Funny how your mind goes into all sorts of strange places. Especially when you’ve had no sleep. I couldn’t get hold of her so assumed the worst. I don’t know what I assumed in fact. That something bad had happened anyway. It sounds so utterly ridiculous now I say it out loud. But anyway the police went out looking for her around the area and all that time she was out smoking in the garden. Right as rain she was and we’d never even thought to look there. The back door was shut. She hadn’t wanted any smoke to get into the house. We’d even looked out of the window, but she’d gone right behind the garden shed, terrified I’d catch her out. And later she was flabbergasted and horrified that the police had been looking for her all that time. I mean, we can laugh about it now. Sort of.
If I’m honest I’m really glad that social services checked up on us after that. That they worked with the police, even though it was a closed case. It made me trust in the system. That if people needed help, I mean really needed it, there would be someone there for them.
You want to observe the kids? Go right ahead. You’ll see them for what they are. Happy, well-adjusted children. Well – obviously we’re in unusual circumstances at the moment, poor Jack, it was a terrible accident, but he’s doing so well. Thea’s obviously only just over two months. But you’ll absolutely see that we’re brilliant parents. Liza’s on the PTA. I used to be a school governor before Thea came along. My kids are wonderful human beings. So I think, Mr Travers, that it’s time for you to leave. Thank you, thank you for your concern. We appreciate it. I’ll show you out, shall I? I’ll just show you to the door.
You have a good day now, won’t you?
SARAH
Sarah knows she’s intruding. But she can’t help but stare at Liza, who has draped herself around Gav’s neck. ‘Oh my God, Gav,’ she’s saying.
‘It’s all right.’ He’s patting her on the back. ‘You can breathe. It’s OK. It’s over now. I promise.’
Even Gav looks like he’s close to tears. She had no idea that it had been that bad for them both. None at all. Liza, who is so emotionally sturdy, in the hospital at two in the morning for the sake of Jack’s colic? She’d never said a word despite their constant flow of WhatsApp chats. And all that funny stuff about the police?
‘You promise?’ Liza’s shut her eyes now. ‘You promise it’s over?’ Sarah wonders if they are aware that both she and Katy are watching but before she can open her mouth and explain more, she feels someone tugging at her arm.
‘Come with me now.’ It’s Katy, leading her to Jack. ‘Let’s leave them. Give them both a moment, shall we? I’m so glad you’re here. I meant to ring you. I wanted you here. Whilst I go through the scrambling. I mean – not right here. But I thought it would be useful if you could wait outside the room. Just so I can come and get you if I need to jog his memory about what happened. Would that be OK?’
‘Sure,’ Sarah says, knowing it’s absolutely not OK. Nothing about this is OK.
‘Ready?’ Katy asks. By this point, Liza and Gav have gone silent and are watching her too.
‘Sarah?’ Liza walks over, blowing her nose. ‘You’re going to help?’
‘Oh,’ Katy exclaims, as though she’s just popped some chewing gum. ‘I’m so sorry you didn’t know the sequence of events, Liza. I spoke to Gav about this last night. Did he not tell you?’
‘No. But it’s OK. It’s fine. No worries at all. Sarah, you can do that?’
Sarah nods her head and says OK, but she can’t actually hear any noise come out of her mouth. She’s going to lie, about what happened to a five-year-old, in front of him, his therapist, and his parents. She can’t. She can’t do it. She’d done it at The Vale Club. But this is different. A five-year-old child. And if it comes down to it, it will be his word against hers. She swallows back a sour taste in her mouth. But then again she can’t slow down her thoughts enough to work out what else she should do. She’s completely stuck in her tracks. Ella would know. Ella would know exactly what to do.
‘Wait,’ she says. ‘Of course I can. But Ella’s on her way. And we need to wait. I need Ella with me because …’ She fumbles around for something to say. ‘Because Ella is helping me with some breathing techniques.’
‘Breathing techniques?’ Liza snorts. ‘What the hell are you talking about, Sarah? You’ve never gone in for that sort of stuff.’
‘I’ve just been feeling, well, panicky lately. That’s why. Ella said she’d help.’
‘Oh Sarah.’ Liza moves over from Gav to her. ‘Why didn’t you say? You’ve been acting so bloody odd, for goodness’ sake. I thought, well, I don’t know what I thought. I wish you’d told me.’
‘It’s fine. And anyway – I’m so sorry about what happened back there. That was me. I called them. I’m so, so sorry.’
‘It was you?’ Gav shouts. Sarah takes a step back; he looks like he’s about to pounce on her. ‘You called them?’
‘Calm, calm,’ Liza holds her hands out. ‘Why did you actually? I was so shocked I haven’t managed to break that bit down. Wait Gav. Please. Let’s just hear what Sarah has to say first, shall we?’
‘I don’t know.’ Sarah can’t admit to Liza she’s been snooping on her. That she had opened up her Uber app and found out where she’s been going. She takes a deep breath. She knows what she’s about to say might break a relationship irrevocably. But what choice does she have? ‘I’m so sorry, Gav. I thought you were … I’m not sure why. I must have been mistaken. I know I was mistaken, rather. I think I misinterpreted something Liza said.’
‘What did she say?’ Gav roars. ‘What the hell has Liza been saying?’
‘Nothing, it’s—’
‘Then I expect you to do better than that.’ She can feel Gav’s breath on her arm now. Liza fending him off. ‘Better than,’ he adopts a trembling voice, ‘I think I misinterpreted something Liza said.’
‘Look.’ Katy claps her hands like she’s a school teacher. ‘Jack can hear absolutely everything you are saying. So shall we just start his session? Sarah, why don’t you go into the other room and wait there until I need you.’
Sarah nods. She scurries into Liza’s bedroom and sits down, head in hands. She can hear Gav hissing at Liza in the kitchen.
‘She’s a fucking …’ he’s saying. ‘You should never have … trusted …’ She places an ear to the door but can’t make everything out. Although she can certainly hear a few choice words. Fucking and imbecile being just two of them.
She texts Ella. She cannot do this alone. She thinks she might throw up all over the bedspread. Any minute now, Katy’s going to come bursting in and ask her about the moments before the fall. And it’s make or break. She either tells the truth, that she lied to Liza, or comes clean – and if she does that, she’ll have to move out of London. She can’t face Liza’s hatred towards her. She can’t face the other mothers and fathers – they hate her enough already after the WhatsApp she’d mistakenly sent to Ella. Shereen has been texting her updates to say that no one is talking to her. She’ll be vilified at the school gates. Perhaps she’ll ask Ella to walk in with her tomorrow. That would give everyone something to gossip about. She could do a massive distraction stunt. Then she hears Liza whispering.
‘She’s been through enough, Gav. Last year. Really brutal. I mean, really. You weren’t there to see her. At the hospit
al.’
Sarah can’t hear any more but she knows her friend is sticking up for her and, after everything she’s done, with Jack and the fall, this reduces her to tears.
Stop it, she tells herself, sadness beating her down like a tonne of bricks. This interminable, deep, deep sadness that’s plagued her since Rosie had been born, that has burrowed right into her subconscious and stuck there.
No time to feel sorry for herself now, though. She has Jack to think about. Ella texts her back. I’m on my way. Thank God. She will follow Ella’s lead. She no longer trusts herself. To either say, or do, the right thing. She thinks of little Casper at home, and this again reduces her to tears, his jaggedy fringe and his small hand over her stomach as she’d come home last year from the hospital telling him she’d had a small ‘thing’ done to her. It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to tell him the truth. She had, but somehow the words simply wouldn’t come out.
There’s silence in the other room now. She’s filled with an absolute terror. She can feel it all over her body. It’s closing in on her. Maybe she should voice everything that had happened the day Jack fell. Maybe then the fear would go away. But now she knows she can’t just think about herself. That she can’t just be selfish and try and rid herself of the poison that’s seeped into her body. Because of course, it’s Liza, and Jack too. They have to move on from this with as few traumatic effects as possible. She starts to shiver.
Just as she’s prepping herself on what to say (Yes he waved. At least I think he did. He was just at the back of the sandpit. Near the bottom of the post. He saw me. I saw him. I was with Ella), she hears the doorbell go. It’s her. Ella. Thank God. Her nemesis has come to save her. She leaps up and goes to open the door, but Liza gets there first.
She sees Ella at the door, looking impossibly glamorous, despite the casual clothes she’s wearing. Leggings and a baggy white T-shirt with a pattern on the front, which she’s artfully tucked into her waistband. Sarah recognises that pattern. Her gaze rests on the T-shirt and her mind flickers from memory to memory. She doesn’t have to think long to understand where she’s seen it before. The logo on the letter she’d seen at Ella’s house. The one that said that the sum of money had been withdrawn and donated straight to their chosen field. WLPA. Oh my God. The school – how could she have been so bloody stupid. The school fund. West London Primary Academy. She’s seen it written down enough times, after all. And then her mind tracks back to the launch party photographs she’d seen on Ella’s Facebook profile. The party to launch … hang on – she remembers googling this – Ella’s company. She remembers searching for the company name: Echo Limited. And then her mind shifts into gear. A flash of the Christmas fair meeting. A paper with the sponsorship money details on it. The sponsorship money for the Christmas fair. With Ella and Christian’s company logo on it. Except, she’d never declared that it was their company. She remembers distinctly, Ella waving her arms dismissively. ‘It was hard work,’ she had said. Good heavens. Ella had sponsored the Christmas fair with her own money. What on earth is she playing at?
Is she trying to dodge tax by giving to charitable causes? Ten thousand pounds! Imagine having that kind of money. Sarah thinks about how easy it would have been for Christian and Ella, all they had to do was dip into their pockets. Yet Liza had had to sweat blood and tears to get sponsorship sorted. It’s all getting stranger and stranger.
There’s a knock at the door. ‘Sarah? It’s Katy. Your friend Ella is here too. She says she was with you during the fall. That she can help you with this.’
Sarah opens the door and shuffles closer to Ella, whilst staring directly at her T-shirt. It’s not the time or place, but she can’t hold it in any longer.
‘The sponsorship money.’ She lowers her voice and points a finger at Ella’s chest. ‘Your company. I know now.’ She’s pleased with herself for having joined the dots. ‘What on earth are you doing? Why the big secret?’
Ella has the decency to go a shade of red. Even that looks fetching on her.
‘I can explain,’ she hisses. ‘But now is not the time. What are you playing at, bringing this up now? Digging around trying to find things out about me. Talking about all this nonsense from nine years ago. If you want to know about that text message at The Vale Club, I’ll bloody well tell you. But not now. Totally inappropriate. This is your best friend’s son. Now focus.’
Of course, Ella is right. Sarah presses her hands against her cheeks. What on earth is she thinking? They both look over at Jack. His tiny body underneath his duvet. He’s almost lost inside it. His face looks sunken and some of his limbs are jerking around the bed.
‘Don’t worry,’ says Katy. ‘That’s good. He’s releasing the trauma from his body. This is working. He’s done so, so well, haven’t you darling.’
Jack breaks out into the biggest grin.
‘Is it over now?’ he says. ‘I want it to be over now.’
‘It’s over soon. Just one last scramble. But we have to now focus on the bit you’ve forgotten. The moments before the fall.’ She leaves a silence to let him digest what has been said. ‘Then we’ll work on replaying the whole memory at once and that will be the last bit of our session today.’
He’s nodding his head but he looks confused. Like he’s trying desperately, desperately to remember but he can’t. It’s OK, Sarah thinks. He won’t remember. She’s safe. They’re safe. But then will the scrambling work? Will the trauma be released from him? She couldn’t bear to do that to a five-year-old. Potentially ruin the rest of his life. She thinks back to last year. Rosie. Her subsequent battle to get pregnant again. She knows full well what trauma does to your body.
‘I can’t remember at all what happened.’ His little face scrunches up. ‘I’m trying. I’m really trying.’
‘Sarah?’ Katy calls. She feels Ella squeezing her arm. The heat of her flesh. ‘The floor’s yours. Perhaps if you tell Jack what you remember, he’ll recall and then we can work on the release. Jack, this is very important for you to know that this isn’t your memory, it’s Sarah’s. All right darling? Imagine Sarah is watching you. Imagine from her eyes. You’re looking at yourself.’
Come on, Sarah thinks. How’s a five-year-old meant to get that?
But sure enough, Jack nods. ‘Sort of like I’m watching myself on the television?’
‘Exactly like that. What a clever little man. Right. Sarah. You ready?’
She nods her head. And then she notices Liza staring at her and Ella. And just as she’s watching her friend’s expression, she sees it darken. Liza looks frozen, shocked, her mouth wide open. As though she’s just remembered she’s forgotten to turn her hair straighteners off when she’s four hundred miles away. Weird. She wonders what Liza saw just now to make her react like that? But she can’t carry on the thought because she’s focusing on getting air into her lungs.
She clears her throat. She looks right back at Liza, then at Ella and finally at Jack. Tell the truth, lose a friend, tell a lie, keep her close. Which one? Come on Sarah. Think. She’s waiting for Ella to do, or say, something but she too is stock still.
‘Sarah?’ Katy tilts her head. ‘I know this must be really difficult for you too. But please know that whatever you say now is going to help Jack enormously with his recovery. There’s no right or wrong answer. If bits of the memory aren’t quite clear, that’s fine. Just start with maybe something else – who you were talking to, if anyone. The weather. Anything at all that you can fix on. Usually if you start talking about the surrounding memories, your mind will do the rest.’
‘OK,’ Sarah says. She’s made her decision now. One that will no doubt stay with her for the rest of her life. And, like it or not, she’s going to have to go with it. She’s screwed up enough lately. ‘It was grey that day. That’s what I remember the most. Waking up. Everything was grey, grey, grey. Liza and I had been having coffee,’ she pauses. Is this relevant? She doesn’t know. But the words keep coming out of her mouth. ‘And I said I’d check on
him. I said I’d check on Jack.’
She shuts her eyes. She doesn’t think she can go on, but her mouth is still moving in different shapes. Words, carrying across the air.
‘And so I went. I walked through the café and I got us some drinks. I then went to the balcony to look for Jack. On the way I bumped into Ella. We had a chat and—’
‘And?’ Sarah’s unaware of who has asked the question.
She tries to carry on. But she keeps getting flashes in her mind. Jack lying on the ground. His eyes, searching, searching. The look on Liza’s face as Ella had told her that yes, yes she had checked on him. She hadn’t really dwelled too much on that before now. But right this second, it’s as clear as anything. A look of gratitude, and relief. Thanks, my friend, it said. Thanks for having my back. And then she can no longer hold it in. She lets out a great sob.
‘I’m sorry,’ she cries. ‘I’m sorry.’ It’s all she can say. Nothing else. Nothing more. ‘I’m really, so very sorry.’
West London Gazette editorial notes, October 2019
J Roper interview transcript (phone): Sally Hargreaves, main witness, The Vale Club
I’m currently in South Africa on holiday and didn’t see your emails or calls until this morning. I saw him fall, yes. I just happened to look up at that moment. He didn’t see me, though. But I looked up just as he was trying to get someone’s attention. He was waving his arms and then he was mouthing the words: ‘Look! Look at me.’ At least that’s what I think he was saying. But I shouldn’t imagine that anyone saw him because he started waving harder at that point.
The Fallout Page 29
