by Paula Daly
She finds Avril in a cubicle. She’s already been booked in, her nose has been packed by a nurse and now she is waiting to see a doctor. ‘Fast service,’ remarks Tess, and Avril answers by blinking her eyes twice. She’s having difficulty talking, Tess presumes, so she sits beside Avril and waits in silence for the doctor to arrive. This takes close to an hour and during this time Avril does not say one word.
‘Are you OK?’ Tess asks her every fifteen minutes or so and Avril blinks her response. Eventually a young medic pops his head around the curtain and upon seeing Avril’s bloodied nose, as well as her eyes – which are already starting to blacken – he asks if Avril’s been offered pain relief.
‘Yes,’ she manages bravely.
He smiles and comes closer. He angles the lamp towards Avril’s face and says, ‘I’ll need to take a proper look if that’s OK?’ And then he pulls on some surgical gloves before gently beginning to extract the packing from inside Avril’s nose.
Avril’s eyes widen in fear. She makes a primitive sound, a sound almost bovine in nature, as the packing begins to come loose, and Tess winces and has to look away. She’s not a natural when it comes to ministering to the infirm. In fact, Clive reckons she would’ve made a ‘bloody godawful nurse’, but she thinks that’s unfair.
Twenty minutes later and Avril is freshly packed, a large dressing across her nose, and for some reason she is now being remarkably stubborn. Tess has been arguing with her for some time and cannot fathom what on earth is wrong with the girl.
‘He’ll want to know,’ repeats Tess sternly.
‘I don’t want him to know,’ replies Avril.
‘But he’s your boyfriend.’
‘So?’
‘So he needs to know.’
‘I don’t want him to know! I don’t want him to see me like this!’
Tess exhales. They’d left Avril’s car in a layby this morning rather than make the journey to Morecambe in two vehicles and Tess is not happy to leave it there overnight. But after the amount of pain medication Avril has received, she’s not happy about Avril driving it home independently either. She could really do with speaking to William about this, arranging to collect him and dropping him at Avril’s car, but Avril is flat out refusing.
‘Look,’ Tess tries now, a softer approach, ‘he really cares about you. He’ll want to help and he won’t want you to go through this without him knowing. Let me call him and stop being so silly.’
Avril shakes her head.
And Tess has no choice but to press her further.
‘Pass me your bag,’ she tells Avril. ‘I’ll call William and explain what’s happened. I’ll tell him you’re pretty banged up so he’ll know what to expect. He’s not going to dump you, Avril, just because you got your nose broken. I can’t believe you’re worrying about this.’ Tess reaches across the bed and grabs Avril’s handbag. She’ll just have to overrule her in this instance for safety purposes and if Avril has a problem with that then—
‘Don’t,’ Avril says and she seizes Tess’s hand.
Tess pulls her hand away, crossly. ‘What d’you mean: Don’t? You’re always going on about what a caring guy he is. Well, let’s see him in action, because he’s really not going to—’
‘Don’t call him.’
‘Why not? C’mon, Avril. This is getting—’
‘Because he doesn’t exist!’ Avril cries out.
Tess stops.
Her mouth drops open and she looks at Avril as if to say, You have got to be kidding me.
‘I made him up,’ whimpers Avril. ‘I’m sorry, but I made him up.’
Tess closes her eyes. ‘Jesus Christ.’
Now
‘YOU THINK I’M ridiculous,’ says Avril.
Tess does. A little bit. But she’s trying not to show it. They are in the hospital canteen, both nursing cups of coffee, and Avril’s battered face is drawing questioning looks from both nursing staff on their breaks and visiting relatives. ‘I don’t think you’re ridiculous,’ says Tess.
‘You think I’m pathetic for inventing a boyfriend.’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘You must.’
Tess puts down her cup. ‘Why are you telling me what I’m thinking? You don’t know what I’m thinking.’
‘You think I’m stupid.’
‘I don’t,’ Tess tells her. ‘I’m not judging you.’
Tess picks her cup up again and sips her coffee. The coffee is neither good nor bad and she’s trying to remember a time when she was last served a really lousy cup. Everyone has upped their game. She kind of misses the old days. Everyone’s such a bloody connoisseur now; it can all be rather wearing.
‘I do it so people won’t ask,’ Avril says quietly.
‘Do what?’
‘I do it so they won’t be all, Do you have a boyfriend? and when I tell them that I don’t, they feel they have to comment on my weight.’
Tess raises her eyebrows. ‘People do that?’
‘Not directly. But they tell me what diet their mother’s on, or what diet’s working for their sister.’
‘How helpful,’ remarks Tess.
‘I did have a boyfriend,’ Avril continues, as if Tess hasn’t spoken, ‘in the summer. I had this guy I was kind of into. But he was sleeping with someone else.’ Avril rolls her eyes. ‘I found out she was a big girl too … so it was like a fetish thing.’ Avril adds more sugar to her cup and stirs.
‘You’ll meet someone.’
‘To be honest, I’m not even that bothered. I’m pretty happy by myself, but I get sick of all the questions, you know? People asking why I’ve not settled down. Acting like there’s something wrong with me.’
‘I think I know how that is,’ replies Tess, half-smiling, referring to Avril’s interrogation of her own love life the day before.
‘Oh, yeah, sorry about that.’
A guy in a shirt and tie with a stethoscope slung around his shoulders sits at the table next to them. He has two cheeseburgers on his tray and two cans of orange Fanta. Systematically, he eats around the outside edge of each burger until he has two perfect mini burgers left in the centre of his plate.
‘So,’ Tess says, dragging her attention away. ‘William?’
‘Oh, he was completely made up,’ replies Avril. ‘He’s not even based on a real person.’
‘You were very …’ Tess pauses. ‘You were very thorough in your description of your life together.’
‘Too much?’
‘A little. Maybe. You might want to tone it down a bit in future. It’d be kinder to the person listening.’
Avril smiles. ‘Gotcha. Maybe it’s time to be done with all that now. I reckon I’m going to take a leaf out of your book. You live your life the way you want to. You’re single; you’re independent. You don’t care what people think of the way you do things. You’re not afraid of their questions. I admire that.’
‘I certainly don’t have it all figured out.’
‘From where I’m sitting, you do.’
Avril lifts her coffee to her mouth and winces when the rim of the cup touches her nose.
Tess watches as a lone tear escapes Avril’s left eye and trickles down her face, absorbed into the dressing running across her nose.
‘It’s nothing,’ Avril says when she sees Tess has noticed. ‘My eye’s weeping from the punch. I’m fine. Honestly.’
Tess can see that Avril has a sensible reason for making up a boyfriend, she can see how that could work for her, but whatever she is saying now, however brave she’s attempting to be, Tess knows there’s a loneliness underneath regardless.
‘Don’t go thinking I have all the answers,’ Tess says quietly.
‘I don’t.’
‘We’re all fuck-ups. Everyone is just walking around doing the best they can.’
Avril is looking at Tess as if to say, Thank you for being nice. Thanks for trying to make me feel better. She smiles at Tess gratefully and Tess feels like a complete fraud.
<
br /> ‘We’ve all done things we’re not proud of,’ she tells Avril.
And Avril nods her head repeatedly, while taking a tissue from her pocket and dabbing at her eyes.
‘Everyone has secrets. Everyone wishes they were better than they are.’
‘I know. It’s all right. You don’t have to—’
Tess closes her eyes. And against her better judgement, says, ‘OK. OK, listen, this is not something I like to talk about but …’ She pauses. Sighs heavily before continuing, ‘I had a baby. I had a baby girl when I had just turned eighteen.’
Avril opens her mouth to say something, before closing it again quickly.
‘My mother died in a car accident,’ Tess explains. ‘I was driving. Not my fault but … well, maybe I thought it was my fault. Anyway, that’s not why I got pregnant. My dad had shacked up with another woman overnight, and I suppose I couldn’t cope with it. I hated her for being there. She was always there, cooking in my mum’s kitchen, lying in her bath, lying in her bed. She was there all the time and the worst thing was that my dad acted like a completely different person around her. He was like a stranger and it was weird, uncomfortable. Unbearable, actually. So I … well, I’m not exactly sure what I was thinking, I was very young, but I started going out a lot. I didn’t want to be in the same house as them and I found a friend who also had a shitty home life and she wanted to be out as much as possible too. So out we went and needless to say we got attention from the wrong type of men. Older men. Men who should have known better but didn’t. They saw these scrappy, angry, skinny girls and they gave us attention. And alcohol. And we had sex with them because it made us feel powerful and, I don’t know, the attention made us feel a little less angry for a while, I suppose.’
‘And you got pregnant.’
Tess nods. ‘Yeah, and my dad kicked me out. But I didn’t get pregnant in the way you might think. I got pregnant because I wanted to get pregnant. I did it on purpose. I think I must have been desperately lonely, craving love, missing my mother, all of those things, and I thought, stupidly, I could create my own family. I thought I could get all the love I needed from a child.’
‘What happened to her?’ Avril asks carefully.
‘Ultimately, I couldn’t look after her. I tried really hard, but, you know, babies cry, she actually wouldn’t stop crying, and even though I knew all of that before I got pregnant, when you’re on your own, and it’s endless, and there’s no one to help, and you’re broke, and scared, and you begin to not trust yourself around your own baby because of something you might do, well …’
Avril is quiet. Taking it in.
‘I’m sorry that happened to you,’ she says after a moment.
‘Yeah.’ Tess shrugs. ‘It was my own fault though. I could tell you I tried my best, but I know in my heart that I didn’t. I could’ve tried harder. I could’ve done more to keep her. I gave up on the whole thing. I gave up too soon.’
‘I’m sure you did everything you could, you were so young, you were only eighteen—’
‘No, Avril. I gave up.’
Four Years Ago
CARRIE DOESN’T KNOW how long she’s been locked inside the police cell as she isn’t wearing a watch. She can smell vomit on her clothes and her throat is dry and sore. She has been offered a microwavable lasagne but declined. She cannot eat. She wonders if she’ll ever be able to eat.
They won’t answer her questions. She’s asked about Mia. Asked if anyone has told Pete that he needs to collect Mia from school. But all they’ll tell her is that she needs to keep calm and someone will deal with her shortly.
What if Mia is waiting? What if she’s panicking because Carrie isn’t there to pick her up?
Carrie bangs on the door again. ‘Please!’ she shouts. ‘Please, someone help me in here.’
But no one does.
They think she’s murdered Pete’s girlfriend. They think she’s capable of murdering another living, breathing human being. She looks down at her hands. She examines them, turns them over so that the palms face up. What is it that’s led them to think this way? What has she done to make them jump to this wild conclusion?
There’s a noise: the sound of a bar striking metal. Carrie looks at the door and sees the service hatch is open. The top of Gillian Frain’s face fills the rectangular space and she surveys Carrie coldly before speaking. ‘You can make a phone call.’
‘What about Mia?’
‘You can make one phone call. Are you calm, Carrie? I don’t want a repeat of what happened earlier.’
‘What about Mia?’
‘Can we trust you to remain calm?’
Carrie hesitates. There’s so much she needs to tell them. So much they need to know before they keep her here like this. ‘I’m calm.’
The detective closes the hatch and Carrie hears the bolt being thrown back. The door opens slowly and of course Gillian Frain is there, as well as another officer who is new to Carrie. ‘There’s nowhere to run,’ Detective Frain says. ‘Can we trust you to walk slowly and sensibly to the custody officer without making a scene?’
Slowly and sensibly.
Inside her head she’s screaming no. The noise is deafening. It’s so loud she can barely think. ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘No scene.’
Carrie’s eyes dart from side to side. She knows there is no way out, but this doesn’t stop her from frantically trying to find an escape route. She feels Gillian Frain’s hand on her elbow, guiding her, and she wants to shake her off. ‘Just to the right,’ Gillian says, and Carrie lets herself be guided like a docile farm animal. No scene, she’s saying over and over inside her head. No scene.
She approaches the desk and she’s aware of the custody sergeant’s eyes landing on the vomit crusted on the front of her T-shirt. She dips her head so she doesn’t have to meet his gaze and when he tells her she’s free to use the phone on the desk she merely nods her response. She had thought this part would be done in private. In the movies, the prisoner makes his call away from the prying eyes of those who’ve incarcerated him. But that doesn’t seem to be the case here so she picks up the phone and she dials Pete’s mobile.
It goes to voicemail.
She presses redial, without asking if this is allowed.
Voicemail again.
Her hand is shaking.
On the third attempt, he picks up.
He doesn’t speak though, he doesn’t say hello, but she can hear him breathing. His breathing is laboured and she can hear the anger in it, hear the hatred as it goes in and out of him.
‘Pete,’ she says, the word half-dying in her throat.
‘Carrie.’
‘I’m at the police station. They arrested me.’
‘I know where you are.’
Relief washes over her. Even though she’s aware of the hostility in Pete, he knows what’s happened at least.
‘Mia’s home,’ he says. ‘I told her you’d had to go for some tests.’
‘Tests?’
‘Yeah, like cancer tests or something.’
‘Pete, can’t you tell her something else?’
‘I didn’t know what to tell her! How was I supposed to know what to tell her? Don’t go lecturing me on what to say to my own daughter when you’ve done this to yourself.’
Suddenly Carrie’s mind is perfectly clear. The dissociated feeling she’s had since the police escorted her from the swimming pool is gone and she’s back inside her own body again. Finally, she can think. ‘I need a lawyer, Pete.’
‘I can’t help you.’
‘Can’t?’
Carrie looks at the custody sergeant. He’s reading the screen in front of him but he’s listening. Of course, he’s listening. They’re all listening.
She lowers her voice to a whisper, turning her back on the sergeant. ‘If we don’t find a lawyer, they’ll provide one. You do know they’re talking about murder? If I don’t find decent representation …’ She doesn’t finish the sentence. He knows how this works. She doesn’
t have to spell it out to him.
‘I can’t help you, Carrie.’
‘I didn’t do this!’ she flares. ‘You know I didn’t.’
‘I don’t know anything any more.’
‘Pete. Don’t leave me here. Don’t do that! Don’t leave me when you know I had nothing to do with this. You know I couldn’t. Christ, I didn’t even care what you were doing. You know that!’
Pete is not speaking.
But she knows he’s there. She can hear his breath sounds again. She can feel his loathing coming at her down the phone line.
She makes her voice barely audible. ‘Don’t you dare leave me here after what you’ve put me through, you fucker.’
And the line goes dead.
Now
NIGHT HAS FALLEN by the time they leave the hospital and there is a noticeable pinch in the air. The temperature is dropping fast and already the paving stones outside the main entrance are becoming glassy with frost. Avril is a little unsteady on her feet after the blow to her face, so Tess stays close, ready to catch her.
There is still the problem of Avril’s car, of course. Now that there’s no William to speak of, Tess decides it will have to remain in the layby for the night and Avril is compliant with this. She’s sure her dad will collect it with her in the morning, explaining he won’t want to come out now, as ‘He doesn’t like to drive in the dark.’
They make their way towards the car park. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way,’ Tess says, ‘but I’m kind of glad I don’t have to spend any more time listening to how great William is.’
Avril smiles. ‘Yeah, he was beginning to get on my nerves as well.’
They make slow progress. Tess has Avril’s handbag, along with her own, slung over her shoulder, and she’s taking care to pick out the best route as Avril says the dressing across her nose is compromising her vision somewhat. They cross behind an ambulance and Tess is just thinking how poorly lit the car park is when a figure steps out, seemingly from nowhere, blocking their path. Instinctively, she grabs Avril’s arm, and she feels the tension in Avril’s body escalate when Avril lifts her eyes from the floor and sees the figure before them.
