Jane had never been what she called a proper cook. And she was certainly no match for Felix, on the rare occasions nowadays when he made the effort. But she was reasonably adept at putting good healthy meals together, and, by popular demand, sometimes not so healthy ones for the children. Felix always said that he loved her cooking. Mind you, he would say that, wouldn’t he, if it meant he didn’t have to do it. Jane smiled indulgently. However, she knew she cooked a mean steak, and that this simple meal was a favourite of Felix’s.
She lit the gas burner beneath the griddle pan and turned to face Felix as he entered the kitchen. He was smiling. He had a lovely smile, Jane thought, which rarely failed to lift her spirits, even if only a little.
‘You’d never guess what little Stevie just said to me …’ he began. ‘I told him I loved him and he said, “I love me too, Daddy.”’
‘Oh, that’s funny, Felix,’ Jane said.
‘I know,’ Felix replied, smiling that smile again. ‘Maybe we’ve bred a stand-up comic.’
‘Maybe we have,’ responded Jane. ‘Although it might be just a little early to start booking theatres.’
Felix remained in the kitchen with her until the steaks were cooked and plated, then picked them up and carried them into the conservatory.
He began to tuck into his meal at once, somewhat unusually not returning to the kitchen to select a bottle of wine from the rack. Jane was glad about that, although she would have made no comment had he done so. But she knew that if he consumed any more alcohol after a heavy earlier session he would become quite drunk again almost immediately.
An old friend of her late mother’s, who’d had an alcoholic husband, called it the chemical tip. Not that Felix was an alcoholic, she reminded herself. And even if he were, that would surely be her fault too.
But, just for the moment, she really was not going to let her thoughts drift down that particular road.
This was turning into the kind of evening when she almost began to believe that they could be a normal family again, living a normal family life.
Felix was behaving quite like the old Felix. She made a conscious effort to try to behave like the old Jane, instead of the angst-ridden neurotic she knew she had become.
After dinner they watched a movie, sitting together on the sofa, not quite the way they used to, when Felix would wrap a long arm around her and she would settle contentedly into his nook. But it felt to her that they were close that evening. Both physically and mentally.
Indeed, so much so that Jane wondered if Felix might make a move towards the love-making which had once been at the very core of their marriage, and was now such a rare event.
Or even if she might dare make a move on him? Something she would once never have hesitated to do. But nowadays she feared rejection too much. She believed, or certainly she hoped, that Felix did not reject her because he no longer wanted her. No. He rejected her, or at least showed no active desire to make love to her, because of his fear of what would come after. The sleep which would surely follow. The sleep which brought her no rest at all. And all too often destroyed his.
But perhaps tonight would be different. She had been ten days, a whole ten days, without a problem. She had, of course, barely allowed herself to sleep. Nonetheless, could this be the start of a new beginning?
The movie ended. Felix turned to her, reached for her hand. Her hopes rose. Her heart soared.
Unfortunately, Jane’s hopes were about to be dashed. In every possible way. This was the night that was to change everything. This was Black Monday.
‘That was fun,’ remarked Felix with a smile. ‘I’ll go on up then. Let’s hope for a peaceful one, eh?’
Jane smiled back, careful not to show her disappointment. She knew exactly what he meant, of course, but neither of them liked to talk about it.
‘Yes,’ she murmured obliquely. ‘I’ll be right behind you.’
She watched him make his way from the room, trying to move softly, as they both did after the children’s bedtime.
Jane had for some time been all too aware of the cracks in their perfect life. And continued to believe the blame lay almost entirely with her.
She couldn’t even remember when it all began. However hard she tried. Not exactly anyway. And she had no idea of the cause. Although sometimes she didn’t think Felix believed that.
There appeared to be little she could do about it. The nights were worse, of course, far worse, but the fear was always with her, twenty-four-seven. All day long it wrapped itself around her like a blanket of ice-cold fog. And it had been so much worse lately, since the cause of it all had so very nearly revealed itself to her.
At night the fear tightened its grip until she felt as if she were being suffocated, until she believed that she could no longer draw breath. Indeed, in her blackest moments, she thought that was what would ultimately happen. That she would just stop breathing. At least it would all be over then.
Bedtime had become an ordeal. Felix remained kind and supportive. Most of the time. But she could see the strain within him, eating him up. She was asking too much of him. And she knew it.
She rose from the sofa and walked from the sitting room into the kitchen, then back again, several times, keeping her footsteps light, taking long deep breaths. Exhaling slowly. Inhaling again. She had been told that she should ensure that she controlled her breathing before attempting to sleep. That she needed to develop a rhythm, a discipline, in order to contain the more extreme ramifications of her mind.
She gave Felix fifteen minutes or so before following him upstairs. She didn’t want to cause him the embarrassment of feeling he had to pretend to be asleep when she entered their bedroom, as she knew only too well that he had on a number of occasions.
She moved as quietly as Felix had done, slipping almost imperceptibly into the room. The bedroom door always stood ajar and the light from the landing was left on after dark, in case the children, or indeed anyone else, stirred in the night. Felix’s face was gently illuminated.
She could see that he was already sound asleep in the big double bed. And he definitely was not pretending.
His chest rose and fell in perfect rhythm. He was lying on his back. Felix, although his hair was a light sandy blonde and his complexion fair, had a heavy beard. His chin already bore a faint shadow which would need immediate attention in the morning. Felix would shave as soon as he rose. He did not subscribe to the modern style of designer stubble. He was more the clean-cut type, square jawed, classically handsome, like the hero of an old-fashioned boys’ comic.
Jane smiled. She loved Felix, and told herself she should not doubt that he still loved her. In spite of everything.
Watching him sleep gave her pleasure. How she envied him though. He was so at peace. He slept with his mouth very slightly open, lying so still that when they had first come together she had sometimes put her cheek almost to his lips to gently check that he was breathing.
It also gave her pleasure to think of those early days together, when they had so deliriously explored each other’s bodies and minds.
Almost at once they’d started to plan a life together. They were lucky, Felix had told her. They would have plenty of time to play, plenty of time for holidays and nights out, particularly in the early years. And they would at the same time acquire a beautiful family home. And then the family to go in it would arrive. Just like that. Effortlessly.
And so it had come to pass. Pretty much how Felix had promised from the very beginning. Their twins, Stephen and Joanna, were now tucked up in the bedroom just on the other side of the landing.
Jane walked softly across the room into the en-suite bathroom where she changed into her night things in order not to disturb Felix. This had become a more or less nightly routine, and one she did not like at all.
When she returned to the bedroom she paused by the window, looking out across the River Torridge to the lights of Appledore. The curtains were open, as they both preferred.
Jan
e told herself how lucky she was. She tried to convince herself that if she counted her blessings, the demons might cease to plague her. After all, she had Felix, two fabulous children, and a perfect home.
If she believed it, wished with all her heart for it to come to pass, maybe, just maybe, she would be left alone. Jane had also been told that if she could think calm happy thoughts before she slept it would help. And indeed, it had. Up to a point.
The night was so still. The tide was high, and the moon reflected a rippling silver on the dark water. It was so peaceful, and Jane longed for peace.
She had everything else, after all, and she reminded herself of how she and Felix were the envy of most of their friends and neighbours. Therein lay the rub. They didn’t know, of course. Only Felix knew. Really knew. And he preferred not to dwell on it.
Her husband stirred very slightly. He curled himself a little more into the foetal position, quickly settling again.
Jane continued to watch him. She couldn’t actually remember the last time they had made love. The physical side of their relationship had once been so good, from the very start. Until bedtime began to turn into a horror story. She wondered if Felix was missing it as much as she did. And not for the first time, she wondered if he was seeking release elsewhere. He had given her no reason to believe that, but he was still a young man. One thing was certain, if Felix had found an occasional sexual alternative to his angst-ridden wife, and she didn’t see how he could fit much more than that into their lifestyle, then, again, Jane blamed only herself.
She pulled her dressing gown close, wrapping her arms tightly around her body. She wasn’t cold, just forlorn. Her attempts to focus on the happy positive aspects of her life had not worked well.
She made a last effort. She let the dressing gown fall loose again and set off for the children’s room, carefully pushing their door open just a little more, in order not to wake them.
The twins, in their matching wooden beds – Stevie’s painted pale blue, Joanna’s pale yellow – were sleeping as deeply and as peacefully as their father. Their room was also painted in shades and shapes of blue and yellow. In the days when she had still felt able to bother about interior decoration, Jane had considered pink and blue to be a tad too obvious for boy and girl twins. And, in any case, blue and yellow, whilst such nice colours for little ones, were also rather stylish. The colours of Monet.
Each child lay very still. Stevie had his thumb in his mouth, and was half lying on his toy bear. Joanna, a bunny hugger through and through, was clutching her white rabbit close. Actually Loppy, Jo’s favourite cuddly toy since she was a baby, wasn’t really white any more, but rather more a murky grey.
Jane made a mental note to pop Loppy in the washing machine in the morning, whilst Joanna was at school.
Feeling slightly better again, she returned to the master bedroom, removed her dressing gown, and slipped beneath the bedclothes alongside her husband, moving as little as possible in order not to wake him.
She pulled a pillow from the pile at the head of the bed and wrapped her arms and legs around it. Sometimes she thought that helped her.
She’d barely slept at all for three nights. And not a great deal for more than a week before that. She’d got into the habit of deliberately keeping herself awake half the time. In spite of the resultant all-consuming exhaustion, it was often preferable to the alternative. That night she knew she would not be able to do so again. Her body craved sleep. So did her mind. The warmth of the bed cocooned her. Her husband’s gentle breathing soothed her, enticing her to forget her fears. Ultimately, she had no choice but to let go, telling herself everything was going to be all right, and she could be well again, as she gave in to the waves of sleep washing over her.
The next thing Jane was aware of was the sound of screaming. Desperate loud screaming. A child’s screaming. And her own screams too. As one. Close yet distant.
At first, she couldn’t see anything. She didn’t know where she was. She had no idea what was happening. She had no concept even of whether she was awake or asleep. Had she gone blind? No. Her eyes were closed. She opened them. And immediately wished she hadn’t. She was still screaming, unable to stop. The screaming child was her daughter, Joanna, whom she was holding tightly in her arms. Too tightly. She slackened her grip at once, desperate to find a way of comforting her daughter.
‘There, there,’ she mouthed.
It was too late. Joanna did not respond to her mother’s voice. Not at all. She continued to scream, and she looked terrified. Was Jane responsible for that? Jane supposed she must be.
She was still trying to work out how she could calm and sooth her daughter, whilst she was herself still in the grip of a panic attack, when Joanna was snatched from her arms.
Felix was tousle-haired and bleary-eyed, clearly fighting his way back from a deep sleep. He also looked absolutely furious. Angrier than Jane had ever seen him. Yet he held Joanna tenderly, and his natural gentleness had a swift effect on the little girl, whose screams abated as she snuggled into her father’s chest. The look he focused on Jane was anything but gentle.
‘Go back to our bedroom,’ he instructed her. His voice was level but icy cold.
Jane wanted to try to explain. To apologize. But at the same time to reassure. To tell him she would never ever harm their children. Not under any circumstances. But the words wouldn’t come out. And she wasn’t even sure that they were true. Not anymore. She just stood there, looking at Felix, trying to control her breathing, fighting to calm herself down.
‘Go back to our bedroom,’ Felix repeated, his voice low but all the more foreboding for that.
She knew she should obey Felix, try to explain later, wait until they were both over the shock of the moment. But she couldn’t move.
‘She’s all right, i-isn’t she?’ she queried hesitantly. ‘I mean, I haven’t hurt Jo, h-have I?’
‘I don’t know,’ muttered Felix through gritted teeth. ‘You were squeezing her. And shaking the life out of her.’
‘I didn’t shake her,’ protested Jane. ‘I didn’t do that. I’m sure I didn’t.’
‘Yes, well that’s the problem, isn’t it, Jane?’ Felix continued, spitting out the words. ‘You’re not sure. You can’t be sure of anything. You don’t know what the hell you’re doing.’
‘But I wouldn’t harm them, never, I-I couldn’t …’
Jane was unable to finish the sentence. Felix, her Felix, was looking at her as if he hated her. She didn’t blame him.
‘Just go,’ he said, his voice low and all the more menacing for that. ‘Go back to our room before I do something I regret.’
Finally, she obeyed him, pausing at the door of the children’s room just long enough to watch him lay Joanna on her little yellow bed.
It was probably ten minutes or so before Felix returned to their bedroom. Jane was again by the window, staring out at the lights twinkling across the estuary, trying to overcome the fears that raged within her, threatening everything that she treasured in life, trying to make sense of the senseless. This had been the worst, the worst ever. Jane turned to look at him when the door opened. His face was ashen. There was a resigned grimness about him. He was trembling.
‘I’m so sorry …’ she began.
There was so much that she wanted to tell him, had to tell him.
But he didn’t give her time. His face darkened with anger. He strode purposefully across the room, and, before she could speak again, raised his right hand, the palm flat, and struck her once across the cheek. The edge of his wedding ring caught her, cutting into her flesh. Her cheek stung. She could feel wetness on her skin. She knew she was bleeding.
It was the first time Felix had ever hit her. The shock of it was far greater than any pain.
‘This is it,’ he told her. ‘I will make sure you never touch our children again.’
With chilling calmness, he turned away from her, walked over to the door, locked it and removed the key, then returned to
bed.
Jane wanted to tell him everything that was going through her head. But she was afraid to do so. And in case she hadn’t made sense of it herself yet. It couldn’t be how it seemed, could it? Did she dare confide her deepest fears to her husband? She wasn’t sure.
‘Felix, we need to talk,’ she began.
‘Jane, we’ve talked and talked,’ he replied. ‘Nothing helps. This time you’ve gone too far.’
‘Bu … but, I couldn’t help it, I didn’t know what I was doing,’ said Jane.
‘I know, and that’s the most frightening thing about it, isn’t it?’
‘All I have to do is control what happens to me. I think last night I was halfway to understanding …’
‘Yes Jane, but unfortunately, we can’t expect our children to understand, can we?’
‘Oh Felix, can’t we just talk …’
‘Look, in the morning we’ll get the twins up together. Then we’ll see …’
Felix’s voice tailed off. Jane wondered exactly what they would see. She didn’t ask the question though. Indeed, she didn’t reply at all. He was tired, and he was angry.
Felix closed his eyes and clearly had no intention of opening them again. She didn’t want to join him in bed until he was asleep. But she knew he was not sleeping, just as earlier she had been so sure that he was.
She would have gone to the spare room, for the very first time ever, but he had locked the door.
Eventually she climbed into bed beside him, and lay rigid, her legs and arms straight. Would he hit her again? Later that night, or in the morning? He had never hit her before. It was not in his nature. But she had frightened him half out of his wits. She had frightened her children, particularly poor Joanna. She had frightened herself. Not for the first time, but more than ever before.
The events of the night were laid out before her like a tableau. Mixed up with other things. Other people. Other children. Parts of dreams, or were they dreams? Parts of happenings that were nothing to do with her and her life, and her husband, and her children. Or were they?
Dreams of Fear Page 3
