The Fallout

by Rebecca Thornton

  The reason I’m telling you all this is because I would now like you to please, please, just leave me alone. The minute you walked back into my life, I’ve had nothing but trouble.

  I know how people view me. How everyone thinks I have it so easy. My so-called ‘perfect life’. I recognised that look in your eyes too. The casual dismissal of me and my feelings. Because – well – why would I have anything difficult to face? Why would I have any challenges? Look at me! I’ve got everything. And I see now that you wished for my downfall, because then in part you’d be vindicated, wouldn’t you? You would have been right all along. No one can be *that* perfect. Well, now you know. And I lied to you too. I knew about the Hilda Zettenberg Home not because I used to work around there. But because I’d been going there for years, after my pregnancy and Daisy’s death triggered a relapse of an eating disorder I’ve suffered badly with since I was a teenager, and for which I’ve been hospitalised on many an occasion. So little Miss Perfect Ella Bradby turns out to be not quite so perfect after all. I hope you feel better about that and can now console yourself that you were right, after all. Lord knows why I feel the need to defend myself to you.

  But now, my advice to you is to get some help.

  Move away from here if need be but just get some perspective. Anything. Forget about all the shit – the unnecessary noise. Forget about the other judgy mothers (and some fathers!). Forget about everything that you can forget about. And just focus on what I know you are really good at. Which is loving Casper, your sweet and kind little boy.

  Sarah: Typing …

  Ella has left the group.

  ONE YEAR LATER

  ‘Everybody’s damaged. It’s just a question of how badly, and whether you’re healing or still bleeding.’

  — Angela N. Blount, Once Upon a Road Trip

  To: LizaBarnstaple@btinternet.com

  From: Sarah_Biddy@hotmail.com

  Dear Liza,

  I hope you don’t mind me writing out of the blue like this. I also hope you got my letter. I know that you said we could never speak to each other again. I’ve always wanted to respect that, which is why I haven’t tried to contact you before now.

  I’m not sure how much you know – if anything – of our lives now. After that autumn half-term, I couldn’t face the school gates any more – the whispers and the rumours. I should have braved up to things and just got on with it. I know that’s what you would have done if you had been in my position. But I couldn’t. And I’m trying to come to terms with that too. But I constantly felt like I was under the microscope – even though I know that in reality, everyone’s got better things to think about than my mistakes.

  Soon after everything that happened, Tom got asked by his company to set up an office in Cheltenham. And in truth, I think he was so relieved that the decision had been made for us. That he didn’t have to carry on pretending that everything was ok. With me. With him. He suffered a lot more than I thought he did, after Rosie. Another thing I got wrong. But I’ve been trying so hard to repair that.

  So we packed up and left – renting a small cottage in a tiny village near Mum. Never thought I’d say those words! But she’s happy we’re here and she’s spent so much time with Casper that it’s been totally worth it for that alone. Things worked out on that front, at least.

  And I got a job as – would you believe it – school admissions admin assistant at the local primary here. It’s just a part-time thing. But it brings in a bit of extra cash and it keeps me busy. And Casper’s little face lights up when he sees me in the office.

  The change has been good for us and for our marriage. Ella told me I needed to get away. She was right, as usual. Again. Never thought I’d say those words!

  Which brings me to the real reason I’m writing. I wanted to let you know that Tom and I had a baby girl last week. Isla Elizabeth (9lb 11 – my pelvic floors are screwed forever). Anyway, I don’t know why I felt so strongly that you should hear it from me. And I don’t want you to feel emotionally obliged to reply, especially after we agreed not to be in touch – so please, don’t feel that you have to write back.

  But I did also want to tell you that since Isla’s birth, I’ve been thinking so much about Rosie. About what happened, with you. I’ll never, ever forget what you did for me the day that my first daughter was born. The way you quietly, ferociously, gripped my hand when the doctors took her away from me was something that only a true friend could have done. I never really thanked you for it. I suppose I’d buried it so deeply that I never got to tell you what your friendship – particularly at that time – meant to me. You did not deserve what I did to you. To Jack. And I’m so sorry. I’m trying not to make this about me – so I’m not going to go on about how much of a bad person I feel. But for what it is worth, everything that happened with you and Jack, it changed me. I have changed.

  To that end, I think that’s why I wanted to tell you about Isla – she reminds me of you. A fighter with a strong spirit.

  I know that we’ll never be in each other’s lives again – but I also know that I’ll never regret our friendship. You taught me so much about myself. About how to live. And about how not to live. I think of you all the time – you, Gav, Jack and Thea. Not a day goes past that my heart doesn’t feel heavy without you all in my life. I wish you every happiness, joy and luck with everything. And if our paths ever should cross again – I hope we can remember the good times that we shared.

  Yours,

  Sarah

  To: Sarah_Biddy@hotmail.com

  From: LizaBarnstaple@btinternet.com

  Dear Sarah,

  I’m so pleased to hear about Isla. And I’m pleased you told me, too. Thank you for sharing your good news and letting me know how you are all getting on. I know that Gav is sad that he lost his friendship with Tom, so I’ll make sure I pass on everything you’ve told me.

  Gav, Jack, Thea and I are all really well. Jack has grown up so much and is now loving judo. Thea is now walking and saying her first words. (Bread – she takes after me.) I’m with the kids during the day – thinking about what to do in the future – and Gav has set up a business with Katy Loftman. He’s training in PTSD and trauma psychology.

  He is much happier now. And to that end, we will be renewing our vows next year in Somerset. (I know!) But last year felt like, in some ways, a chance to start afresh. We went to counselling together and tried to come to terms with the idea that we can’t control everything. Since then, we’ve learnt to take each day as it comes. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t. But that’s ok too. We had some family sessions as well (minus Thea!). We are all much closer because of it and we’ve learnt to accept others, and most of all – ourselves.

  You don’t need to say thank you to me about being there when Rosie was born. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. It was an absolute honour to have met her, to have held her hand – and yours. And I think of her often. She was absolutely beautiful and she looked so like you. I know that Isla will never be a replacement, but I know that she will bring you as much joy as Rosie would have done – and her memory will always live on.

  I wish, somehow, I’d managed to ‘access’ you more after her burial. Looking back, I can see how much you and Tom were struggling, despite never really talking about what happened. Perhaps that was my fault. Perhaps I was so consumed with everything that was going on with Gav that I hadn’t realised the depths of what you were feeling. Perhaps I should have insisted you went to counselling, or got some sort of help. Perhaps that’s where I went wrong in all of this – because – well, as I get older, I realise things aren’t always that one-sided.

  I also realise we all felt totally lost after Jack’s fall. But of course, we were lost before then too. We had blamed ourselves for things that weren’t necessarily in our control. I hope you know that there was nothing in this world you could have done to prevent Rosie’s death. You mentioned this at the hospital – that you blamed yourself. That you thought you could – o
r should (that wonderful word!) – have protected her. You were a wonderful mother to her and there was nothing you could have done differently. You were so harsh on yourself afterwards. You tried, so hard, to carry on and do what was best for everyone, and to live up to an invisible standard. To do what was expected of you from everyone else – swallowing your own pain to satisfy other people’s opinions of you (why do we all do this?!). And then you berated yourself for doing that too. All the time. I did it too, with certain events of my life. We told each other it was ok – so why didn’t we tell ourselves the same thing?

  And then came Ella – perfect Ella – who took on the mantle of all that we thought we should be, but that we could never quite achieve. And who highlighted the disconnect between our own public and private personas – especially for you, who was so fragile at the time. But for the record, to me, you were always perfect just as you were. And as it turns out, Ella wasn’t so great after all, was she?

  I’m aware she had her own pain to deal with. But despite that, I guess she never felt the need to make her apologies for who she was. She already felt seen. She already felt she was enough. And Sarah, you are too.

  I am still sad about what happened – and angry – and all the other emotions that I went through after Jack’s fall and all the bits afterwards, and although I know I can’t go back to how we were, I do still miss having you all in my life too. I miss you all very, very much. Jack still asks for Casper often. I tell him this: that friendships come into our lives and do incredible things but just because they leave us sometimes, it doesn’t negate the impact they made. Or that the impact they made doesn’t mean it isn’t right, when it is time, for us to let them go. That the love doesn’t fade, even if the people leave, because he is worth loving. Just as he is.

  And so the days pass, don’t they? I wish you happiness, Sarah, I truly do – in all the rest of yours.

  Liza

  WhatsApp group: Christmas fair ’20!!!

  Members: Charlotte G, Ems, Bella, Mehreen, Millie, Amina, Charlotte T, Charlotte M, Amelia, Shereen, Fizz, Becky D, Becky G, Isa, Marion, Mimi, Nabila

  Charlotte G: Hello All! You lovely PTA lot! It’s that time of year! Now as we all know – last year’s fair didn’t quite work out as we’d hoped. We put Ella Bradby’s sponsorship money towards a playground extension, but we missed out on many of our children’s enrichment funds, due to everything that went on after that. I’m here to take charge now – and will ensure we do the VERY best for the future of our children.

  Aren’t we lucky! And best of all – you have me – your very own Charlotte G, running the show!

  Isa: Thanks Charlotte. Happy to help in any way I can. I’ve spoken to the local deli and they’re happy to donate some cakes.

  Marion: Great stuff! I’m in too to help in any way that I can. @Amelia – I also just wanted to tell you that my son Adam tells me Ellen has been rifling through his school bag during the day. We’ve had some things go missing lately. An expensive pen I bought him.

  Amelia: I hope you are not suggesting Ellen has taken Adam’s things. On a public forum.

  Marion: I am just repeating what Adam told me.

  Charlotte G: This is not a place to be discussing your children – if you want a forum to discuss those issues, please do so in your own specific WhatsApp group, or in private! Thank you so much!

  WhatsApp group: Is she for real?

  Members: Amelia, Fizz

  Amelia: Oh my god the absolute bitch. Is she actually accusing Ellen of stealing?

  Fizz: I think so! Ha! She’s got it in for you. She’s such a cow. Time for revenge!!!!!!!! *rubs hands together*

  WhatsApp group: Guess what?

  Members: Amelia, Lena, Bella

  Amelia: You’ll never believe it – some kid has been pushing all the children in class and in the playground. Ellen came back yesterday in tears. She didn’t name any names but she *did* say that Marion’s child, Adam, was standing *right* behind her before she got pushed …

  Lena: Oh my god! Of course we won’t tell anyone. But bloody hell! What have the teachers done? Marion’s kid – Adam? It’s got to be him. He’s a little thug.

  Amelia: I know! I’ll find out what the teachers are doing about it. I hope something – it’s awful. Poor Ellen was so upset about it all. The little poppet.

  WhatsApp group: Mums updates (dads welcome too!!)

  Members: Isa, Kristen, Ava, Jo, Arianna, Lena, Liza

  Lena: Guys – just a little warning – Marion’s kid Adam has been going round pushing the other kids. Really hard. I think someone should have a chat with Marion – or the teachers. Apparently it’s getting dangerous.

  Kristen: OMG – Amelia’s just told me. Crazy! He could really hurt someone. Pushing kids like that.

  Arianna: Do you think we should complain about it? I mean – you know – it’s in situations like these where really bad accidents happen …

  Liza has left the group.

  Acknowledgements

  Nelle Andrew, I am forever grateful for your unwavering belief in me. I am so lucky to be on your team and I have learnt so much from you, agent extraordinaire, who knows when and how to say the right thing – on top of everything else you do for your authors. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

  Charlotte Brabbin, as soon as we spoke I knew that you got me and the book – and that I’d love working with you. And I have. It’s been an absolute dream for me. Thank you so much for everything.

  And to Kim Young, Fleur Clarke, Ellie Wood, Jennifer Harlow, Claire Ward, Cliff Webb, Isabel Coburn and Alice Gomer and the entire team at HarperFiction. I’m so grateful for all the work and energy that’s gone into this book.

  To Rhian McKay – what an amazing job you did. Thank you.

  Ben Oliveira and Angela Blount for your fabulous quotes which add so much to the book.

  To all the authors, bloggers and past readers who’ve shown so much support.

  Elizabeth Day, Tim Logan and Susan Lewis.

  Asia Mackay – my writing and everything else (EAC) partner in crime. Sometimes I forget to tell my husband things because I’ve already told you. Thanks for always being there, for getting it all and for making me laugh so much. You are the best.

  Lynn West – who unwittingly gave me the idea for this novel. Thank you for that – and absolutely everything else. I am so glad we bonded all those years ago on a school outing. Lucky me to have a best mate who happens to be across the road.

  Alanna Clear – for being an amazing friend and helping me with details of the accident itself and the aftermath. All mistakes are my own.

  In no particular order and for being there all the way: Caroline Jones (as well as your constant support and friendship, I have to mention your amazing proof-reading skills!), Elizabeth Thornton, Isabel Cooper, Elizabeth Day, Gemma Deighton, Mahim Qureshi (I will never forget that laughing fit), Charlotte Wilkins, Sarah Wheeler, Maria Guven, Daniel Cavanagh, Emilie Bennetts, Edwina Gieve, Alison Hitchcock, Neil Alexander, Ayisha Malik, Josh West and Vikki Sloboda. I’m so lucky this list hasn’t changed since my first novel and I’m grateful for you all on a daily basis. Thank you guys for allowing me to be myself – neuroses and all.

  And to all my other friends who have supported me in this chapter. I can’t thank you enough. You know who you are.

  To Ching, who is greatly missed. Much love to Val, Sebastian and Francesca.

  Louisa Barnett and Jamie and Carly Spero.

  To my in-laws, Karen and Ellis. My parents, and to Emily, Jasper, Matt, Alia and Chester. I wanted to say a huge thank you for helping me so much last year. I couldn’t have done it without you all. I am eternally thankful.

  And to Olly – for everything you do for us.

  Finally, this book is for Walter and Dom, with all of my love.

  About the Author

  Rebecca Thornton is an alumna of the Faber Academy ‘Writing A Novel’ course, where she was tutored by Esther Freud and Tim Lott. Her writing has been publish
ed in The Guardian, You Magazine, Daily Mail, Prospect Magazine and The Sunday People amongst others. As a journalist she has reported from the Middle East, Kosovo and the UK. She now lives in West London with her husband and two children.

  The Fallout is her third novel.

  @RThorntonwriter

  @rebecca_thornton_writer

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