by Ella Harper
If I Fall
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
I
Prologue
2003
Fifteen Years Later
Connie
Jonas
Layla
JJ
The Dinner Party
Connie
Jonas
Layla
JJ
Connie
Jonas
Layla
JJ
Connie
Jonas
Layla
JJ
Connie
Jonas
Layla
JJ
Connie
Jonas
Layla
JJ
Connie
Jonas
Layla
JJ
Connie
Jonas
Layla
JJ
Connie
Jonas
Layla
JJ
Falling
The Saviour
Six Months Later
Copyright
If I Fall
Ella Harper
Dear friends,
I’ve thought long and hard about this and I just want you to know that there is nothing any of you could have done differently. I’m a big mess but it’s not anyone’s fault. I can’t change what’s happened and the future looks too bleak for words.
I’m really sorry for what I’m about to do, but I just don’t want to be here anymore.
Thanks for everything and TTFN, as we always used to say at uni.
‘What’s that?’
The senior paramedic held the piece of paper up. ‘Suicide note.’
‘Oh.’ The other paramedic looked pained. ‘Makes sense. This person really wanted to go.’
‘Yep. Hate these call outs.’
The paramedic nodded as they prepared the stretcher. ‘Me too.’
The person standing nearby spoke up. ‘Sorry, what are the chances here? Is it… is it a done deal?’
The more senior paramedic stepped forward. ‘Difficult to say. But… prepare for the worst, just in case. OK?’
‘OK. God. Really? God. This… this can’t be happening…’
‘I’m so sorry. And I might be wrong.’ The paramedic reached out a hand. ‘Well done for getting here when you did, though. And for such fantastic resuscitation skills.’
The friend shrugged helplessly. ‘I should have done more; should have got here sooner…’
‘Don’t blame yourself,’ the paramedic said firmly. ‘When someone wants to do this, they’re determined. They’re hell-bent and in my experience, they’ll do whatever it takes. Listen, we need to go now, OK?’
The friend looked devastated. ‘Yes, of course. I’ll follow on behind.’
‘Great.’ The senior paramedic gestured to his colleague and they expertly manoeuvred the stretcher through the doorway.
The friend stood for a moment, motionless. How the hell could this have happened? What could possibly have been so terrible, so unbearable, that suicide was the only answer? And how on earth could none of them have known what was going on behind closed doors? They were all friends, for goodness’ sake! They should have been looking out for one another; they should have known. They should have been able to stop this from happening.
But they hadn’t. One of them had been spiralling into despair and they had all been too blind to see it. And now that person was probably gone. What kind of friends were they to have let this dreadful thing happen? Hadn’t they always said they would look out for one another – look after one another?
The friend rushed out to follow the ambulance, overwhelmed with guilt. And hopelessness. Because one of them had fallen, and despite all of their mutual promises, despite everything they had been through, no one had been there to catch them. And that was unforgivable.
2003
‘Wow.’ Layla turned to face Connie on the picnic mat. ‘Last day of uni. I never thought we’d get here, did you?’
Connie pushed her dark fringe out of her eyes and stared up at a clear, blue sky. Perfect, bar two puffs of cloud in the distance. ‘Tell me about it! Finals – what a bloody nightmare. I only left the house to sit exams. And buy fags.’ She held an arm up to Layla and glanced at her legs, which stretched out under torn-off denim shorts. ‘Look how pale I am! I haven’t seen the sun in weeks. My freckles are fading.’
‘We’re making up for it today,’ Layla said, shielding her eyes. ‘What gorgeous weather! And technically, I’m not actually leaving yet – I still have to complete my master’s.’
‘A master’s degree? To listen to people’s problems and say “and what do you think it all means?”’ JJ propped himself up on his elbows and winked. He tucked the edge of his pristine, white t-shirt into his denim shorts. ‘And… “how did it make you feel?”’
Resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at him, Layla pulled a face instead. ‘I know. Shocking, isn’t it? Anyone would think you could literally just invite people into your front room willy-nilly and give unsolicited advice.’ She opened a can of cider; it let out a satisfying hiss. ‘Do shut it, JJ. Some of us actually intend to use our brains.’
‘Ouch!’ JJ pretended to look injured, his thick brows furrowing. He joined her by opening a can of cider. ‘I do have a brain, actually, Lay, but as I was also blessed with good looks and big muscles, I decided to use those instead.’
‘Yawn,’ Layla replied lazily. ‘Big muscles, small…’ She left the comment hanging.
JJ guffawed. ‘Oh really? Do I have to prove something to you?’
Layla shuddered. ‘God forbid…’
‘You two are like an old married couple,’ Connie said, scrabbling around for her cigarettes. ‘Are you sure you don’t fancy one another?’
Layla scoffed, but knew exactly why Connie had asked her oh-so-innocent question. ‘Christ, no.’
JJ smiled and looked away. Layla was a very pretty girl, but as Connie well knew, JJ preferred brunettes. Ones with faded freckles. He let his eyes wander back to her. Had he made the biggest mistake of his life? Or was he right in thinking that he was simply way too young to settle down?
‘You shouldn’t smoke,’ Jonas commented, nudging Connie. As if realising his tone sounded reprimanding, he reached out to touch her cheek. ‘I worry about you, Con. Can’t help it.’ He turned to his friend. ‘Back me up, JJ. Tell her it’s bad for her. Do the whole “I’m going to be a personal trainer” thing.’
JJ shook his head, laughing. ‘Don’t get me involved in a lovers’ tiff over fags! Besides, I don’t think anyone can tell Connie what to do.’ He met her eyes and held her gaze.
Connie’s eyes flickered for a moment and she felt her stomach fizz slightly. JJ was so… so… well. It didn’t really matter what JJ was anymore. It had, once. Once, it had mattered very much indeed. But Connie had had to get over that. So now JJ was just her friend, instead of her best friend. And everything else he had been for a while.
‘I’m glad someone knows to leave me alone with my cigs,’ she said lightly, feeling she should respond. She smiled at Jonas. ‘I guess I’ll give up one day, but today, I’m still a student and I’m making the most of it.’
Jonas smiled back. ‘Fair enough.’ God. Did Connie have the same feelings he did? Jonas felt a flash of panic. Connie gave him a glance that spoke volumes and Jonas relaxed.
JJ watched them for a second before putting his sunglasses on.
‘Are you really going to be a personal trainer?’ Layla asked, eyeing JJ’s broad shoulders. ‘I mean, you look the part, but do you think you might get a tad bored?’
JJ tucked his hands behind his head, giving her the benefit of his impressive
biceps. ‘I shouldn’t imagine so, no. I think it’s a job with the potential to be immensely… satisfying.’
Layla grinned. ‘Whipping bored housewives into shape? In and out of the gym?’
JJ pretended to smirk.
Connie bristled, then mentally told herself off. What did she care about what JJ did now?
‘Fat city workers more like,’ Jonas joked, patting his stomach. ‘Well, not yet, but who knows, in a few years’ time…’ He squeezed Connie’s bare knee. ‘Only joking. I intend to hang on to my svelte physique for as long as I can.’
Jonas unconsciously sucked his stomach in. He was rather more worried about losing Connie than his average abs. She was slightly out of his league, Jonas knew that, but that only made him want to try harder. Which, as his father – an eminently successful solicitor with his own company – had always taught him, was never a bad thing.
‘Ha.’ Connie lit a cigarette with some defiance but blew the smoke away from her friends. Smoking had been making her feel rather sick lately, but she didn’t want it to look as if she could be told what to do. She had felt under the weather for a few weeks now, but then, she had been working herself into oblivion to try for a first.
‘Let’s face it, it can only go downhill for all of us from now on.’ Connie wasn’t sure this was entirely true, but she liked to throw out the odd semi-controversial comment. It was the would-be journalist in her. Hopefully, the actual journalist soon.
Connie faltered inwardly. Journalism was a super-competitive industry and even though she felt she had a talent of sorts, going out in the real world was hugely daunting. Still. She was going to go for it.
‘What a depressing thought.’ Layla lay back on the rug and twirled a lock of blond hair between her fingers. ‘But personally, I think we’re all way too fabulous to get chubby and disillusioned in the future.’
‘Are we? Fabulous, that is?’ Connie smiled. ‘Maybe it’s just us that thinks that.’
‘No way,’ Jonas said, staring at her long legs.
Layla sighed. Jonas and JJ thought Connie was fabulous, at any rate. And who could blame them? Connie was pretty fabulous. Leggy, bright… and with a face that could probably look model-esque with a few tweaks. Layla hated that she periodically felt a stab of envy over her friend, but having spoken to her tutor, who was also a practising therapist, Layla knew it was simply her inner ego airing her insecurities and occasional low self-esteem, and not anything to do with Connie at all.
‘I’m going to miss you all,’ Layla blurted out suddenly.
‘Aww, we’re going to miss you too,’ Connie said, leaning over to give Layla a clumsy hug.
Layla hugged her back. ‘I know. But Sussex isn’t that far from London, you know. We’ll still see each other loads. And I’ll be moving to London to be with you all as soon as I have this master’s under my belt.’
‘And having babies and getting married?’ Connie teased. Layla was very open about her desire to settle down once she had all her qualifications.
Layla pulled a face, but she laughed. ‘Yes. All of that.’ She did want all of that. And she hoped she wasn’t being naïve about hoping she could combine work with a happy marriage and kids.
‘And I’ll be completing my Legal Practise Course in a year,’ Jonas said. He was thrilled about the vocational stage of training he had coming up. He sipped a can of cider gingerly. He didn’t really like cider, but he wasn’t much of a drinker.
‘What else do you have to do?’ JJ asked, looking past Jonas’s shoulder at something. Or rather, someone. ‘Sounds like a whole lot of hard work to me.’
Jonas nodded. ‘It is, but it’s worth it. I need to train for two years after the LPC and then I can start working.’ He watched JJ watching a girl playing volleyball in the distance. So it looked as though he didn’t need to worry about JJ after all. Hopefully just a silly, fleeting infatuation. On both sides.
Connie snuck a glance at JJ and wondered what he was thinking. His expression was inscrutable, as always, but when he glanced at her suddenly, she found herself grinning at him for no particular reason.
JJ grinned back. What else could he do? And it was probably all for the best. He was a womaniser; he was known for it, in fact. Onwards and upwards. Connie was just one girl. There were so many girls out there; it couldn’t possibly be that he had met the best one already. Not at such a young age! And JJ felt that he deserved an easy life now. He deserved to be able to make his own choices and be… free. He paused briefly and, with practised ease, buried the thought.
‘To us,’ he said, chinking his can of cider against Connie’s. And then against Jonas’s as well, just in case his comment had sounded too personal.
‘To us,’ agreed Layla, joining in. ‘Let’s go and do all the stuff we’ve talked late into the night about doing.’
‘Look out, world,’ Connie said, wincing at her cheesiness.
‘Let’s always look out for one another,’ Jonas said, less cheesily and with more genuine feeling. ‘Let’s always have these friendships and look after one another.’
JJ propped his sunglasses onto his head. ‘Big whoopsie,’ he commented.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Jonas threw back. ‘But are we agreed?’
‘Agreed,’ they all laughed in unison.
Connie and Layla leant in towards JJ and Jonas and they shared a naff group hug to mark the moment. Life was about to begin and they were starting it as great, great friends who had huge dreams and aspirations for the future. They had all just sworn to support each other through thick and thin.
All four of them were on the brink of amazing new lives. None of them could see any reason for life to be anything but fantastic and fulfilling. It was all there for the taking.
Fifteen Years Later
Connie
Connie frowned at her laptop. Her piece on ‘Camping With Kids’ was almost finished, but maybe it needed an edge. Could there be an edge to an article about children and tents? Connie was buggered if she knew.
She sighed, annoyed at herself. An edge. That was such a hangover from her days at the Daily Report. Every story had needed an edge, an angle. A controversial angle, naturally. There had never just been a factual piece to write. There had to be light and shade and… an edge. Something bittersweet. A fresh, provocative thought about an already visited topic.
But that was then and this was now, Connie reasoned. That had been back in her journalism days. When she had spent every day on tenterhooks, buzzing with excitement about whether or not she could meet her deadlines. About whether or not her piece was ballsy enough, original enough. Most of the time, her pieces were all of the above. Occasionally, they fell short, but not often. Her piece about the place of women in politics (and please stop talking about their bloody clothes, for God’s sake) had gained critical acclaim.
It had been a cut-throat job, Connie mused, as she admired the colourful, modern graphics of her website. But she had loved it. And luckily, Jonas had still been training then, so childcare hadn’t been an issue. Her job at Style Trends magazine had been different, but just as challenging in some ways.
Connie stared past her laptop. She had been editor-in-chief at the end of her time there and it had been great fun. The magazine had been a mish-mash of high-end-but-affordable fashion (which, as any woman knew, was pretty hard to achieve at the best of times), heavy commentary and a good dollop of fluff. This blog wasn’t quite the same thing, of course. Writing about those quick-and-easy recipes fit for the freezer that most women needed and parenting tips and family holidays wasn’t exactly cutting-edge. It was fun and funny and it had been surprisingly well received, but still.
Connie made an impatient sound. What was she moaning about? Her blog kept her going, gave her purpose. She could be around for the girls and work from home and…
Connie stood up and walked away from her desk until she was at the open patio doors. She had a lot to be grateful for, essentially. Even just… this garden, she mused. Not yet in full bloo
m, as it was January so everything was rather barren. But it was large – for London, at least – and artfully wild and untamed, with a riot of colourful flowers at the right time of the year and lots of hidden corners with rickety but charming love seats and the odd, rather dilapidated, fairy garden. A small wood at the back Connie would often sneak to for a secret fag if she was feeling stressed out, or momentarily reckless.
Connie knew she shouldn’t ever really complain about her life. The house was messy but lovely, she and Jonas had two beautiful children and the two of them were happy together. Very happy. Fifteen years they had been together now; since they left uni. Fifteen years was a long time. Many others had fallen by the wayside by that point. But there had been a few moments that had… changed things.
Connie realised she had bitten her lip at that thought. Hard. Wow. She could actually taste blood.
‘Hey, Mum!’
Hannah came in and dumped her bag on the kitchen table.
‘Mind my laptop,’ Connie called automatically. She touched her mouth and wiped away the spot of blood she found there.
‘OK, Mum.’
Connie heard a big sigh and then she heard Hannah yank the fridge door open. Honestly. Why did ten-year-olds eat so much? Connie walked back to her laptop. And when had Hannah started calling her ‘Mum’ instead of ‘Mummy’? And how had Connie not noticed?
‘What are you writing about?’ Hannah peered at the laptop without really looking at it. She opened a pack of snack-type cheese paired with terrible squares of ham.
Connie did not write about those types of snacks being good for children on her blog. No siree. ‘Ways to Make Fruit Fun for Kids (So They Want to Eat it Every Day)’ had turned out to be a well-liked, if somewhat inventive, commentary.
‘This one is about camping with kids.’
‘Eugh.’ Hannah pulled a face. ‘We only did that once and it was horrible.’
Connie nodded. ‘Yes, it really was. I’m pretty much advising parents not to do it, without sounding as though I think they should put all the money they have into any kind of all-inclusive with a swimming pool and round the clock entertainers.’
