by Ella Harper
‘Thanks for coming back here to see me.’ Dylan leant heavily on the bar. ‘I could have got on the train, though. I can do all sorts, even with this pretend leg.’
‘I’m sure you can.’ JJ ordered a beer. ‘Just thought it might be easier. So how are you coping?’
Dylan chinked beers with him. ‘Not so bad, mate. Not so bad. My girlfriend hasn’t left me, so that’s a bonus.’
JJ laughed. ‘Aaaah, that’s good. I mean, it would be pretty bad if she left you over losing a leg, but I guess it happens.’
‘More than you’d think.’ Dylan rubbed the top of his thigh, presumably just above his ‘pretend’ leg, and winced. ‘I have a good few mates from the army who’ve lost their partners as well as their legs or arms.’
‘That’s terrible!’ JJ was shocked. ‘I honestly find that really hard to get my head around.’
‘I know. Hardcore. So how’s life treating you? You look bloody great, by the way.’ Dylan grinned. ‘You always were a good-looking bastard, but you’ve gone a bit over the top on the muscle front, haven’t you?’
‘Piss off! But anyway, it’s my job – I have to look good. Imagine trying to convince people to work out if you didn’t look the part.’
‘I miss my six pack,’ Dylan moaned, pulling a woeful face. ‘I’ve been having so much rehabilitation and counselling, I haven’t really put much into my training. Got a bit depressed for a while, ate too many pies. You know how it is. Well, shit… you probably don’t, actually.’
JJ held his beer up. ‘Really? I drink far too many of these to be truly healthy and I’ve been a tad overweight myself in my time.’
‘No way!’ Dylan scoffed. ‘I don’t believe that for a second. You’re far too dedicated. You were always the most committed at the gym back in the day.’
JJ stared past Dylan. Why had he brought up being overweight? That brought back horrible memories, just… horrible. He remembered being deeply unhappy. Hating himself. Not thinking he was worth anything at all. ‘Eating his feelings,’ as the psychobabble went. Or rather Layla – and actually, JJ knew he shouldn’t mock. Layla had talked about this once in relation to a nameless patient and it had made perfect sense to JJ with regard to his own situation. Not remotely capable of facing up to what was happening to him, JJ had sunk into a deep depression and his weight had spiralled. It had been years ago, but it had scarred him. Along with the reason for his weight gain, of course. Getting back to the gym had saved him – literally. He had lost the weight, found his self-worth again and most importantly, JJ had felt strong. Physically strong. And with that, came an intense feeling of relief. And empowerment. He felt that he could defend himself, should he need to. That he had every chance of coming out the victor.
‘JJ.’ Dylan snapped his fingers in front of JJ’s face. ‘You OK? Lost you there for a moment.’
‘Sorry. Drifted off into the past. It’s being back here.’ JJ forced a smile onto his face.
Dylan lifted an eyebrow. ‘Oh? You don’t come back here much?’
‘Nope.’ JJ kept it short and sweet. He wasn’t about to air his demons with Dylan.
‘Fair enough.’ Dylan looked unfazed. ‘So I was going to ask you about the gym. The best exercises to get rid of this.’ He patted his tummy. ‘And this.’ Stroked his jowls. ‘With one of these.’ Pointed to his missing leg.
JJ laughed. ‘Of course. There are loads of exercises I can outline for you. To do at home, firstly, and then you can move on to the gym. There’s a PT who specialises in this stuff… I’ll dig his details out for you.’
‘Ah, thanks, man.’ Dylan gave JJ an appreciative smile. ‘I just want to get my life back on track, you know? Feel good about myself again.’
‘Of course.’
‘Got yourself a girlfriend yet or still shagging everything that moves?’ Dylan motioned to the girl behind the bar to bring them the same again.
‘Neither. And I’m not sure it’s table service here.’
‘It’s not. What can I say? Sometimes I use my good looks to get drinks brought over. Or rather, I play on my disability like a pro.’ Dylan let out a laugh. ‘And what do you mean “neither”? You can’t possibly have joined the monastery.’
‘Well, no. Just… thinking about someone I had huge feelings for once.’ JJ wasn’t sure why he was opening up to Dylan of all people. He wasn’t even drunk.
‘Aaah. Lost love. That’s the worst kind. Do you think there might be something there?’
JJ shook his head. ‘Doubt it. She’s married with two kids. And doesn’t look like she’s going anywhere fast.’
‘Doesn’t mean a thing,’ Dylan said confidently. ‘Anything can happen. Trust me. My leg got blown to smithereens. Wasn’t exactly in my life plan.’
‘Good point. Cheers.’ JJ raised his glass and felt uplifted.
* * *
A few hours later, JJ wasn’t feeling anywhere near as uplifted as he had at the start of the evening. In fact, he felt rather crap. He made sure Dylan made it into a cab and wandered down towards the train station, needing some air. He wasn’t drunk-drunk, but he was pretty far gone and he needed to walk it off. But he still didn’t want to be here. Not here. It made JJ feel sick.
He walked and walked and walked, feeling angry and nauseous and oddly tearful. And then he stopped, feeling shocked to the core. How on earth was he back at the place that had given him horrendous nightmares for almost thirty years? JJ stuffed his hands into his pockets. Inadvertently, he had walked to his old house.
JJ sucked his breath in and leant against a nearby tree for support. He hadn’t been back here for years. For years. There had been no reason to come back here and there had been any number of huge reasons to stay away. And yet. He stared at his old house. At the front, the upstairs window that had been his. His bedroom. He remembered staring out of that window night after night, desperate to escape. Desperate for someone to come and save him. But no one had. No one had rescued him, despite his silent – and sometimes noisy – frantic, despairing pleas for that to happen. But he had escaped. When he had been old enough to run away, he had done it. And it had been the bravest and the best thing he had ever done in his life.
Out of nowhere, JJ felt like that petrified seven-year-old all over again. Helpless, hopeless, vulnerable. He could barely breathe. He wanted to cry and he wanted to scream out in fury. He wanted to run, but his feet were firmly planted on the ground. And part of him didn’t feel he should run, because he hadn’t done anything wrong.
JJ stared at the house, realising lights were on. Was he home? Was he sitting inside that house without a care in the world, his atrocities dismissed and forgotten? Or had he moved, and someone else was inside the house, oblivious to the fact that the walls had witnessed terrible, unimaginable horrors?
Struggling to catch his breath, JJ realised that his phone was ringing. My God, was it him? It couldn’t be. What were the odds? JJ hadn’t had a repeat phone call since that one the other month, but he couldn’t help fearing the worst. Drawing his phone out of his pocket, JJ saw that it was Layla. He steadied his breathing and answered.
‘Hey.’
‘Hey. Where are you?’
‘I’m… in Hackney.’
‘Really?’ Layla sounded surprised. ‘I thought you said you’d never go back there.’
‘Never say never,’ JJ said, glancing at the house again. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Not really. I was wondering if you might be able to come over. Glass of wine and a chat?’ Layla gave a short laugh. ‘Beer and a chat, I should say. I know you hate wine.’
JJ paused. What else was he going to do? Knock on the door and possibly open Pandora’s box? No way. Layla’s suggestion was perfect.
‘I’ll grab a cab,’ he said, turning away from the house. ‘Can’t be bothered with the train.’ Truth be told, he just had to get the hell out of this place. He started to walk. ‘I’ll be with you shortly.’
‘Cool. See you soon.’
Some time later
– JJ’s cab driver had driven all around the houses, literally – JJ arrived at Layla’s. She opened the door before he knocked and let him in.
‘What’s up?’ he said, giving her a hug.
‘Did I say anything was up?’ Layla smiled and led the way upstairs. In the kitchen, she handed him a beer. ‘I’ll tell you in a minute,’ she added.
JJ opened it and drank most of it in one gulp. He let out a jerky breath.
‘What’s up?’ Layla asked, watching him.
JJ shook his head. There was no way he was going to talk about any of his personal stuff. Layla would probably be the perfect person because of her job, but JJ wasn’t about to open up tonight.
‘So what’s going on?’ he asked instead.
‘It’s Mum. I think she has dementia.’ Layla shuddered slightly, as if saying that out loud had been a big deal to her. ‘She’s getting worse and worse and I can’t really leave her alone and it’s affecting my job. And my social life. And I don’t think I’m ever going to meet someone because it’s like I’m her carer. I mean, I’ve met this guy and I really like him, but I can’t text him back because I have no idea when I can go on a date again. My life is… it’s a bit shit right now.’
‘OK.’ JJ realised he had sobered up a fair amount during the long cab ride. And thank God, because that was a lot to take it. It sounded like Layla had needed to off-load. But this was good. It would take JJ away from his thoughts and that was just what he needed.
‘Get your laptop, Layla. Firstly, let’s look up your mum’s symptoms.’
Layla did as she was told and, grabbing a glass of wine for herself, they sat next to each other at the kitchen table. JJ asked the questions, Layla provided the answers and JJ trawled the internet.
‘Right.’ He read through a comprehensive page he’d called up. ‘I think you’re right. I think your mum has dementia. From what you’ve said, I think she might have a particular type called “frontotemporal” because of the thing you said about her appearing selfish and unsympathetic. And because of the language issues you mentioned.’
Layla burst into tears. ‘Oh God, sorry,’ she sniffed. ‘It’s just so… real, now that you’ve said all that.’
JJ nudged her gently. ‘Hardly. I’m not a GP. And it’s not really right to diagnose using the internet. So you’ll phone your doctor tomorrow and get your mum seen?’
‘Yes.’ Layla nodded and pushed her blond mop of hair out of her eyes. ‘I will, I promise. I’m so sorry about this, JJ. It’s just… my dad died years ago. I’m an only child, as you know. It’s… it’s always just been me and Mum.’
‘I know.’ JJ gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘You’ve always been so close, you two. It must be really hard for you.’
Layla sighed. ‘It’s just so upsetting. Seeing her this way. Seeing her change from this person I knew into a stranger.’
JJ nodded, but said nothing.
‘And now I just don’t know what to do.’ Layla wrung her hands. ‘Getting this diagnosis… it will seem so final, you know? I – I won’t be able to pretend that things are normal anymore.’
‘Is that what you’ve been doing?’ JJ looked surprised.
Layla felt embarrassed, but she was big enough to admit what she was feeling inside to JJ. ‘Yes, I think so. I’m a therapist. I know the signs.’ She gave him a rueful smile. ‘I’ve been doing Avoidance 101.’
‘Well.’ JJ shrugged. ‘That’s OK. We all do that at times.’
Layla glanced at JJ. She wanted to delve deeper, but now didn’t seem like the right time. JJ looked uptight and uneasy for some reason and certainly not in the mood to open up about his stuff.
‘I feel a bit stupid, is all,’ Layla said, relaxing back onto the sofa. ‘Avoiding reality. It’s not like I don’t know the signs. It’s not like I don’t know how silly it is to push something to the background like this and not deal with it.’
JJ stared at her. ‘Sometimes it’s for the best. And don’t beat yourself up, Layla. So you’ve dragged your heels a bit. I’m sure it will all get sorted.’
Layla let a breath out. She really hoped JJ was right.
‘So what were the other things you said earlier? That you’re worried about.’ JJ swigged from his beer bottle.
Layla looked up for a second and paused. ‘Sorry, thought I could hear Mum. The other things… well, they mostly relate to my mum and her situation, I guess. Not having a social life, not being able to meet someone.’
‘And you like some guy you met,’ JJ remembered. ‘What’s the problem – isn’t he interested?’
‘I think he is. I had these texts from him.’ Layla showed him her phone. ‘Don’t worry; no dick pics.’
‘Thank fuck for that.’ JJ had a quick read. ‘OK, so that’s all good. He’s keen, but playing it cool. Typical dude.’
Layla got up and took another beer out of the fridge. ‘Maybe I can’t pursue it right now? Maybe I’d be better off with something more casual. I really like him, but I don’t know…’
‘Maybe you’re over-thinking,’ JJ suggested, accepting the beer. ‘Maybe you need to just get your mum sorted and chill out a bit. Worry about the other stuff later.’
Layla sat on the edge of the table. ‘OK. You’re right. Maybe I’m worried about meeting up with Alfie because I’m a bit… erm… rusty. You know?’ She blushed. ‘It’s been a while. Maybe I need a bit of fun first. Does that make sense?’
‘Fun? Come out with me and my mates then.’ JJ thought for a second. ‘I have a friend at the gym whose sister is a carer, I think. I’ll get in touch with her and see what we can sort out. And once your mum is properly diagnosed, we can put a plan into place to make sure you have a social life.’
JJ smiled as Layla gave him in an impromptu hug. ‘Thank you,’ she said into his shoulder. ‘You’re fab.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ JJ shrugged the compliment off with as much charm as he could muster. ‘Have you heard from Connie yet? Or… Jonas?’ he added swiftly.
Layla looked away and shook her head. ‘No. I mean yes. We keep missing each other. I hope Connie messages again soon, though.’
‘Why?’ JJ frowned. Layla sounded weird. ‘Is something wrong?’
Layla turned back and bit her lip. Said nothing for a few moments. ‘No,’ she said eventually. ‘I’d just like to know they’re having a good time.’
JJ swigged his beer. What a night. A real blast from the past. Dylan, Hackney, his old house. Layla and her troubles. And Connie. Was something wrong that Layla wasn’t talking about? Something going on between Connie and Jonas? JJ had no idea. All he knew was that somehow, some way, everything always came back to Connie.
Connie
Connie stretched out on her sun lounger. Tuscany was beautiful. The villa was stunning. The food was incredible. She felt almost relaxed.
Almost.
Connie sighed and opened her eyes. The sun was hazy above her, shrouded in light clouds that were steadily burning away, but the warmth on her skin was delicious. The villa was actually situated on the hillside of Lecchi in Chianti and the views of the surrounding Tuscan countryside and hills were exquisite – acres of olive groves and cypress trees. Inside, it was beautifully maintained, with antique tiled flooring and traditional Tuscan ceilings throughout. There were three lovely bedrooms and it had been surprisingly easy to allocate them out. One of them was tiny but boasted the best view, so Hannah had bagged that one, and one had a balcony that Bella had fallen in love with as it reminded her of Romeo and Juliet. There was also a rustic-style kitchen and each room had an en-suite bathroom.
Connie knew how much the villa had cost for the week and it was spoiling her enjoyment of the holiday somewhat, because she knew Jonas was stressed about money. Well actually, Jonas was stressed about many, many things, but money was definitely one of them. She sighed. They had even taken the girls out of a school for a few days around the weekend for the first time to soften the blow of the huge cost, but even so, Tuscany wasn’t cheap. Even when
it was self-catering. To keep costs down, they had only eaten out twice so far, dining on pappa al pomodoro, a soup made solely of tomatoes, bread and good olive oil, and potato tortelli served with a game meat sauce that had been to die for, but Connie had been happy to cook the other days because it gave her something to focus on other than Jonas.
Connie sighed. She was enjoying the break, but Jonas had seemed upset and angry every day since they had arrived. Connie brought her attention back to the swimming pool – a simple basin, but glorious in its setting: a sunken, well-kept area with clipped grass and luxurious, burgundy loungers. Their villa overlooked four others in the same area, but they were well spaced out and of the five of them, their villa offered the most privacy. And Connie was grateful for that as Jonas had raised his voice constantly since they’d arrived. Both on the phone to work and to anyone who was in the vicinity. He stomped around furiously, his brown deck shoes slapping against the antique tiling, and Hannah and Bella had been fleeing in opposite directions to get away from him.
‘Do you want some water, Mum?’ Bella held out a glass with ice bobbing in it.
Connie sat up. ‘Thanks.’ She sipped the water. ‘Where’s Dad?’
‘Shouting on his phone in there somewhere.’
Bella’s lip curled as she stretched out on the lounger next to Connie. She was wearing a turquoise string bikini that clashed with the burgundy lounger and made the most of her lovely, slender figure.
‘Where’s Hannah?’ Connie asked, inwardly sighing at hearing that Jonas was talking to work again because that didn’t bode well.
‘I lent her my phone for a bit. Should keep her quiet for a while.’ Bella slipped her sunglasses on and lay down. ‘She’s in that tiny room she loves so much. Although God knows why she’s not out in the sunshine. She seems hell-bent on not getting a tan.’
‘I can hear you, you know.’
