‘Hang on.’ I reach over to the glovebox and rummage through the junk.
‘And?’
‘It’s not where he usually keeps it.’
Then I spot it. Still in the ignition. I can’t believe I didn’t look there first.
‘Found it.’
‘Great. Let’s go.’
I wonder for an instant how Sam can hear me, but there’s no time for that.
‘Head down the track to the main road,’ she snaps.
I bite the bullet and turn the key. Time to see if I can actually drive. You can do it, I tell myself. I’m not entirely convinced, but I push that doubt to the back of my mind and go for it.
I drop my left hand to the gear stick without looking at it. My right foot finds the brake; my left the clutch. Mirrors, shoulder, handbrake. Yes, this is happening.
Wait. Seatbelt. Mustn’t forget that.
And then I’m lifting the clutch, rolling backwards, turning the wheel. I ease to a stop. Find first gear. Deep breath. And …
Thump, thump, thump.
I nearly jump out of my skin.
‘What the hell, Jack?’
It’s Miles. Our eyes meet through the window. He’s livid, foaming at the mouth. He wasn’t there a second ago. Where did he come from? Now he’s opening the passenger door. I panic. Floor the accelerator. Pull away before he has a chance to get inside.
I’m racing down the bumpy track and, glancing in the rear-view mirror, I see Miles picking himself up off the ground, red-faced and shaking a fist at me. I’m glad he’s all right, but I need to get away from him, so I continue forward, as fast as I dare, glad to turn a corner and lose sight of him.
The passenger door flaps open, hitting a tree, as I take another corner. ‘Crap,’ I say, stretching over to pull it shut but not quite reaching.
‘What’s happening?’ Sam’s voice asks through the speakers.
‘Nothing.’
‘Doesn’t sound like nothing.’
‘It’s fine,’ I say, eyeing the mirror as I slow the car to a halt and reach over again, managing to shut the door this time.
I half expect Miles to appear behind me as I look back before pulling away again. But all I see is a rabbit, light brown with a bushy white tail, hopping across the track.
I push on, keen to get as far away from Miles and the house as possible.
After a few intense moments of concentration, glad I know how to drive but far from confident, I speak to Sam again. ‘Where to at the main road?’
‘Have you reached it already?’
‘Not far. Am I heading for the village?’
‘I’ll let you know in a second. Bear with me.’
I see the road when I turn the next corner and, after a moment of elation, my heart sinks as a red tractor turns off it and on to the track ahead of me.
‘Come on. You’ve got to be joking.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘A stupid tractor’s appeared. It’s blocking the way.’
I slow the car, scouring the track ahead for a passing place, but find nothing. I start checking my rear-view mirror again, even though I know Miles couldn’t have caught up with me yet on foot. There’s nothing to do but keep on going and hope for the fool in the tractor to get the message and back up. But it keeps on coming and, as we get closer to each other, I see the driver is waving at me.
‘Bloody idiot,’ I mutter. ‘You can wave all you like, but you’re the one who needs to get out of the way.’
Sam’s gone silent. I’m about to ask her for directions again when the tractor driver comes into focus and I slam my foot on the brake in shock. What on earth? It’s impossible. I shake my head, but he’s even closer now and there’s no mistaking him: Miles, still waving and wearing a manic grin. But how’s this possible when I only just left him behind me, scrabbling around in the dirt? How can he be here now, coming at me from the other direction?
‘Sam, there’s something seriously weird going on. It’s Miles. I mean, it can’t be. I left him behind at the house, but … he’s the one driving the tractor. And he’s heading straight for me. What the hell do I do now?’
‘Get away from him.’
‘Where to?’
‘Can’t you reverse?’
It’s banked up on either side of me and walled with thick hedgerows. Driving backwards along this bumpy, winding track is the last thing I want to do, but I’m out of options. The tractor’s almost upon me and showing no sign of slowing. I slam the gearstick into reverse and, twisting my neck to see behind me, pull away. I only make it a few metres before one of my back wheels hits a pothole and the rear of the car spins out, jerking to a halt sideways in the track. I look out of my window, helpless, as the tractor keeps coming.
Miles is staring down at me from the cab, eyes wide and laughing. And then he changes right before my eyes into someone else: a huge man hunched over the wheel in a leather coat. His long grey hair flaps around the leathery, pockmarked skin of his red face. Only the manic grin remains the same.
He looks familiar, I think, as the tractor ploughs into me at full speed.
CHAPTER 33
Thursday, 4 May 2017
Dear Sam,
I can’t believe it’s a whole week since I last wrote to you. There’s good news and bad news. I’ll start with the bad, shall I? It’s your father. He still won’t speak to me and now he and Ruby have fallen out too. On Tuesday morning he sent me a text message (the only form of direct communication he’ll have with me) saying he wanted to pick her up and take her out for a pizza that evening. I agreed, although goodness knows why he couldn’t have done it over the Bank Holiday weekend instead. I was hoping it might afford me a chance to break the deadlock, but once again he refused to get out of the car when he picked her up and dropped her off.
Ruby was upset when she got home. I could see she’d been crying when I answered the door; she ran straight up to her bedroom.
‘What’s the matter, love?’ I asked after following her upstairs.
‘Nothing,’ she replied, lying stomach down on the bed, face to the wall.
‘It doesn’t look like nothing.’
‘Leave me. I’m fine.’
I wasn’t taking no for an answer. ‘If you don’t tell me, I’ll have to ring your father and ask him.’
‘He won’t even speak to you.’
‘Is that what this is about?’
She claimed it wasn’t, but I know her well enough to recognise when she’s lying. ‘Come on, Ruby,’ I said, perched on the side of her bed, gently stroking her curls. ‘You can tell me. Bottling it up will only make you feel worse. I want to help.’
‘Fine. I had an argument with Dad.’ She said it like it was no big deal, but a moment later she was bawling.
‘Oh, darling,’ I said, taking her into my arms. ‘That’s right, let all your emotion out. You’ll feel better for it.’
After calming down a little, she explained that Dan had been really grumpy in the pizza place. A waitress had knocked over his drink and he’d shouted at her, totally overreacting in the situation.
‘It was so embarrassing, Mummy. And then he told me off for the way I was eating,’ she said, bursting into tears again. ‘I don’t even know what I was doing wrong. You know it’s hard with my arm in plaster.’
I was fuming, wondering what the hell Dan was playing at, but I bit my tongue, saving it for later. The family dynamic was bad enough without me siding against him in front of her.
I listened to what she had to say, nodding supportively, as she explained that the real row had come in the car on the way home. Dan had asked her to relay to me the arrangements for this weekend – when he’d pick her up and so on – and she’d said no.
‘I told him I was sick of passing messages between you two and he should do it himself.’
‘And what did your dad say?’
‘He shouted at me.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. So I told him I didn’t want to stay at his flat at a
ll. I said I hated being with him.’
They were already in the driveway at this point, Ruby explained. She stormed out of the car and he drove off.
‘I don’t really hate being with him,’ she said. ‘I was angry.’ Her lower lip was wobbling and I stroked her hair, feeling the softness of it under my fingers.
‘I know, darling. Don’t worry. Your father will understand.’
I couldn’t quite get my head around what I was hearing. It really didn’t sound like Dan. I’m not saying I didn’t believe Ruby; of course I did. But I felt like I should at least hear his side of the story. I couldn’t help feeling it was somehow my fault. What if my revelation about sleeping with Rick had driven him over the edge?
As soon as I’d got Ruby off to bed, I called his mobile. He didn’t answer, of course, so I left a voicemail and sent a text asking him to call me back urgently. Two days later, he’s still not done so, despite several more attempts on my part to contact him. I even tried getting hold of him at work, but no luck there either. It’s not on. Ruby’s still really upset about what happened and it needs resolving. You can’t treat a child that way. If he hasn’t got back to me by tonight, I’m going to have to go over to his flat in person.
Hold on …
Sorry. I had to dash to get the landline. The answerphone is still broken from that night I spent with Rick, when I spilled water all over it. Fool that I am, I thought it might be Dan. Speak of the devil and all that. Of course it wasn’t. It was a bloody call centre.
So that’s the bad news. On to the good, which concerns Rick. As I told you last time, I felt like I had to do something, even if I wasn’t going to tell Lisa the truth. So last Friday lunchtime, after missing Rick on the morning school run and still not having heard from him, I sent him a text message.
Met your lovely wife Lisa yesterday. We swapped numbers. Think we’ll be great friends.
The bit about swapping numbers was a lie, but it had the desired effect. He was on the phone five minutes later.
‘What are you playing at?’ he snapped.
‘Hello to you too.’
‘Seriously. What’s that text all about?’
‘I was giving you a heads up, Rick. Shame you didn’t show me the same courtesy before I met Lisa. Never mind. What an eye-opener. It’s amazing how well the two of you get along since you separated.’
‘What? We’re not—’
‘Yes, I know that now, Rick. I was being sarcastic.’
‘I never—’
‘Don’t even go down that path. You may not have specifically said so, but you definitely led me to believe that the two of you were no longer together. Did it never occur to you that she and I would eventually meet and she’d learn the truth?’
‘What truth?’
‘That you’re a lying, cheating—’
‘I’ll deny it. I’ll tell her you’re a lonely housewife who got obsessed with me. That you tried it on and this is your revenge because I said no. She won’t believe you over me.’
‘How many times have you done this before, Rick? You pretend to be such a great guy – this wonderful single dad – and it’s bullshit. The minute you got what you wanted from me, you lost interest. I bet you’ve already moved on to your next target, haven’t you? Who is it? Another mum from the playground? Someone at work?’
‘Maybe it’s because you were crap in bed,’ he said. ‘Did you ever think of that?’
‘Wow. What a charmer. I should have realised the truth after seeing how useless you were when Ruby broke her arm. I ought to have trusted my instincts.’
‘Leave me and my family alone. And don’t you dare criticise my parenting. I’m a damn good father.’
‘Not such a good husband.’
‘You can’t prove anything. It’s your word against mine.’
‘Does Lisa know you spent the night at my house? I could always tell her and then make some reference to the mole on your—’
‘Don’t you dare.’
‘Or the way your voice rises like a girl when you get really excited. That might ring a bell.’
‘Listen, Maria.’
‘No, you listen,’ I replied in what you used to call my ‘stern solicitor’ voice, Sam. ‘You might be interested to know that I’ve recorded this conversation. If you don’t want a copy of it ending up in your wife’s hands, you’d better keep Little Rick in your pants from now on. It’s purely for Anna’s sake that I’m giving you this one chance. But if I get wind that you’ve been up to no good again, the gloves are coming off. Are we clear?’
My question was met with silence.
‘I said are we clear?’
‘Yes,’ he replied in a pathetic little voice.
I hung up, pleased with myself. The bit about recording the conversation was another lie, but he didn’t know that. I doubt it will change him for good, but hopefully he’ll think twice next time before cheating again.
That’s it for me and Rick, as far as I’m concerned. I’m done with him. He’s of no further interest. He’s avoided me ever since then, even finding somewhere else to park near school. He’ll probably warn Lisa off me.
Now I can see Rick for what he is, I know his type. I’ve worked with plenty of guys like that and they’re masters of self-preservation. Lies trip off their tongues like their date of birth. If he hasn’t already, I expect he’ll discourage Anna from playing with Ruby too, which is a shame, but your sister will cope.
It’s as we get older that these things tend to get more painful, isn’t it, Sam? Like the girls who said those nasty things about you online. Girls you’d known since primary school.
I know I said I wasn’t going to use these letters to talk about the difficult stuff, darling, but in our last session Rosie suggested that maybe now I should. I don’t show these to her, by the way. I speak about them, but only very generally. The letters themselves are just for me and you.
There are some things I need to tell you, Sam, things that I’ve been bottling up for a long time. Ever since you died and the floor fell out of my world. Ever since I let you down so badly that you felt you had to take your own life.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again now, because it’s the truth: I don’t blame you for what you did. There have been private moments when I’ve unfairly blamed your father – never vocalised, thank goodness. And of course I’ve blamed the bullies and their nasty comments. Most of all, though, the person I blame is myself. I probably always will. But for my own sanity and the rest of the family’s sake, I have to learn to live with it and move on.
I can’t change the past, but I can make a difference now. Particularly by not letting Ruby down like I did with you. And that means more than being home all the time. It means actually being there for her – mentally as well as physically – and trying to undo the damage I’ve done to our family unit.
So it’s time for me to apologise to you, Sam. I need you to know how incredibly sorry I am for letting you down. Countless times I’ve thought back to that night, four days before you killed yourself, when you came to me, asked for my help, and I failed you.
‘Mum?’ you called from inside your bedroom as I walked along the landing. Ruby was already in bed and Dan had a late meeting at work.
‘That’s me,’ I replied, sticking my head through the doorway, which I was surprised to find open for once.
‘Could I talk to you about something?’ you said, a glum look on your face. You were lying on your bed, knees raised. I queried why on earth you were wearing jeans when it was so warm and got a ‘dunno’ in reply.
‘What’s the matter?’ I asked from the doorway. ‘Can it wait? I’ve got a pile of washing to get through and then some work stuff to do after that.’
You shrugged.
‘Couldn’t you have talked to me during dinner? You hardly said a word.’
Then you came out with the sentence that’s been stewing in my head ever since I lost you: ‘I’m feeling a bit depressed, that’s all.’
<
br /> Why on earth that didn’t ring alarm bells in my head, I’ll never know. To this day, I can still hear the waver in your voice as you said it. I’ve played it over and over in my mind and each time it rips me apart to think I did nothing. I didn’t even sit down to hear what you had to say. No, I was far too busy with my own thoughts, which were mainly work-related at that time.
‘Depressed?’ I replied. ‘You’ve obviously got too much time on your hands. Try spending a day in my shoes. Seriously, I’d give anything to be a teenager again in the summer holidays. You kids are so dramatic these days. You don’t know how good you’ve got it. Go and have a bath. That’ll brighten you up.’
And with that I left, didn’t I, Sam? You must hate me for that, but it can’t be more than I hate myself. I didn’t even give it a second thought, you know. Not until four days later. Then you did get my attention – and how I wish you hadn’t. I could have stopped it ever getting that far, couldn’t I? If only I’d listened to you, my darling. If only I’d heard what you were trying to tell me.
I’ve never told anyone about that night, Sam. Not your father, not Ruby, not even Rosie in one of our sessions. I’m too ashamed.
I’m sure you never said anything similar to Dan, because I know he would have done something about it. He was always much better with you than I was. On the night of your funeral, he even asked me if I thought you’d ever seemed depressed. I wanted to tell him then, but I just couldn’t. I’ve heard him question so many times why you didn’t come to us for help, keeping it to myself that you did.
I don’t know why you chose me instead of him. I never will. But letting you down is the greatest regret of my life.
One of my first thoughts after it happened was that I mustn’t let Ruby down too. I see now that I have done, by letting the OCD take me away in my head so much; by driving Dan away. Pushing her father further from us hasn’t been good for her, has it? I forced him to move out of the house and refused his attempts to heal our relationship. Now I’ve slept with another man and made things even worse, pushing him over the edge when I should have been pulling him back.
I often wonder if you meant to kill yourself or whether it was a cry for help that went unanswered. At your inquest, the coroner ruled it was an accident, citing the lack of a note or any significant evidence from school or home to suggest you were suicidal. He didn’t know about our chat. I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone, Sam.
If Ever I Fall Page 29
