by Carrie Elks
Simon arrives a few minutes after seven. He has that ‘straight from the office’ look. His shirt is lightly crumpled and his sleeves rolled up. From the way his thin hair falls in disarray, I don’t think he checked himself in the mirror before he left. Still, as soon as he sees me sitting at the table his expression softens and a genuine smile forms on his lips.
“You look beautiful.” He presses his lips to my cheek. “How are you?”
“I’m good. How are you?” I sound polite and measured. This is how relationships die; one careful word at a time.
“I’m okay.” He pauses and guilt unfurls its wings, fluttering in my belly. “Getting used to things.”
Thankfully, the waiter chooses that moment to interrupt us and bring our menus over. Simon orders a whisky—stronger than his normal aperitif—and takes the wine list, asking if I’d prefer red or white. When we’ve ordered he removes his reading glasses, and I notice the bruise-like circles under his eyes.
“You look tired.”
“I haven’t been sleeping well. It’s not the same without you there. I keep worrying about you.”
The guilt-bird nesting in my stomach takes flight.
“I’m fine, honestly. The room is nice and my flatmates seem friendly enough.”
I don’t tell him I haven’t been spending much time there. I’m not cruel, plus there’s a big difference between honesty and rubbing his nose in it. Still, I owe it to him to be truthful, and that’s a big reason why I’m here tonight. Things are getting serious between Niall and me, and I don’t want Simon hearing that from anybody else.
When the waiter brings the wine over we stop talking. Simon tastes the red, pausing to sample it before nodding at the waiter. It’s achingly familiar, as if we’re part of a play repeating itself night after night. The script would have us finish our food and go home, where I would take off my makeup and crawl into bed, while Simon puts on his reading glasses and picks up the latest Lee Child. Instead we are winging it, ad-libbing where the script requires strict adherence. I can’t help thinking I’m happier with our new situation than he is.
“How’s the clinic?” His question takes me by surprise, not least because I don’t know how to answer it. Do I tell him these past weeks have been difficult, that I’ve been crying more, scared for the fate of a little girl who doesn’t belong to me?
“It’s good. Especially now the gala’s over.” I give him a small smile. “At least until I need to organise next year’s event.”
“You did a good job. You always do.”
Silence falls again and I wonder how things became so awkward between us. Part of it is me. I’m hiding something and my lack of candour is colouring our conversation. My chest tightens when our first course arrives and I realise I need to say something soon. But I look at him—the man I married, the one who saved me when I thought I was unsalvageable—and it just seems so cruel. As though I’m breaking his heart all over again.
Putting his knife down, he looks right at me. “When are you coming home?”
“What?” My brows knit together.
“You’ve made your point. I get it. I neglected you, I should have paid you more attention. There’s no need to string it out, you can come back home now.”
This isn’t the first time he’s asked me to come back to him. Yet every time I tell him it’s over, it doesn’t seem to sink in. He’s still talking to me as if I’m a child. The prodigal daughter, waiting to return.
“Simon…” I’m not good at this. How many times can you break somebody’s heart? My own feels as though it’s cracked in two.
“You know I can take care of you. We work best when I’m making the decisions. Stop fighting me.”
He’s talking about a Beth I’ve left behind. I don’t want her back, I like being me, and the way I can make my own decisions. I don’t want to be the little wife anymore.
Sometimes, you have to be cruel to be kind.
“I’m seeing somebody.” I blurt it out in my usual cack-handed way. “I wanted to tell you face to face.”
I watch as emotion clouds his expression. Confusion morphing into surprise. “As in seeing a boyfriend?”
I nod. “It’s early days. I just thought you should know.”
Simon stares at me silently. I look down at the chorizo and scallops congealing on my plate. Any appetite I had has long since been stolen by my words.
“Do I know him?” he asks.
My hands start to shake. “You know of him. He’s an artist. Niall Joseph.”
His eyes narrow and he drops his head. “The one you’ve been working with?” When he opens his mouth to say more, my phone rings, and I shuffle through my bag to find it, embarrassed that I’m subjecting the whole restaurant to the sound of chiming bells. I’m about to switch it off when I notice the caller. My hand freezes in the air, shock stilling any momentum it might have had.
It’s Daisy MacArthur.
“I need to take this call.” I look up, but Simon’s staring at his plate. Maybe a few minutes to let him collect himself is a good thing. “I’ll be back in a moment.” My chair scrapes across the polished wooden floor when I stand up and walk to the front door. Pressing accept, I put the phone to my ear and walk out into the cool, evening air.
“Daisy, is everything okay?” In the silence that follows I find myself wondering whether she’s dialled me by mistake, or is merely working up to giving me another earful. “Daisy, are you there?”
The sound is so quiet I can barely hear it at first. I press the phone closer to my ear, trying to drown out the cacophony of traffic and conversation reverberating through the street. Then it gets louder until I realise she’s crying, and the drawn-out sobs chill me to the bone.
“Daisy?”
“I can’t wake her up.”
I stop breathing. It’s not Daisy’s, but Allegra’s voice I can hear through the phone.
“I keep shaking her but she won’t open her eyes.”
“Allegra? What’s happened? How long’s she been asleep?”
“I don’t know... I was at Shona’s... her mum cooked us... some tea. When I came back... I found Mum... on the floor... like this.” Between the crying and the sobs it takes her a while to get the words out.
“Is she hurt? Are there any bruises?” Of course, my first thought is Darren. If he’s beaten her up again and Allegra’s seen it...
“She’s been sick, and there’s blood on her nose. Can you help me wake her up? Please help me.”
I feel myself start to choke, but I need to hold it together. “I’ll be right over. In the meantime I need to call an ambulance, okay?” Please God, let Daisy be all right.
“Don’t hang up. I’m scared.” She starts to wail louder. “Please don’t leave me.”
“I won’t leave you. Not ever.” Suddenly, I couldn’t give a damn about the posh restaurant and any sense of decorum they may require. I run back inside and grab Simon’s arm, demanding he dial 999. A hush falls over the room as everybody listens in to our conversation and my garbled explanation. Even the waiters freeze on the spot. Moments later I have two phones in my hand, and am relaying instructions across to Allegra as she listens and cries.
Simon throws a pile of cash on the table and we leave, hailing a taxi with one hand while he holds me with the other. When a black cab pulls up he yanks open the door and we climb inside, Simon’s expression a mixture of horror and concern. He says nothing as we pull away, just reaches out to wipe the tears that are pouring down my face as I keep talking to Allegra, telling her I won’t be long. And though I don’t say it, from every response she gives to my questions, I know that Daisy is in deep trouble.
27
My mind works overtime as the cab winds its way through the dusky London streets. I can almost hear it whirring as I try to work out the distance between us and the estate, leaning forward to check the cab’s milometer to get an estimated time of arrival. I whisper reassuring words down the phone in an attempt to keep Allegra san
e, trying not to wince at her shuddering breaths echoing down the earpiece. Since the initial shock has worn off, I’ve found myself becoming calmer.
Allegra deserves to have somebody be strong for her. It’s a role I find myself stepping into without question. I take on the mantle of white knight gladly. If anybody needs a champion on a steed, it’s her.
When the cab pulls into the estate I jump out, leaving Simon in my wake. He’s about to follow me toward the tower block when I lay a hand on his shoulder, halting his movements.
He looks shell-shocked. Old. A flash of pity washes over me.
“Can you stay in the cab and wait for the ambulance?” I ask. I don’t tell him he’ll be a liability if he follows me up the stairs. “When it gets here, tell them the flat is on the fourth floor, on the second corner. I’ll have the door open for them.”
Simon hesitates and I take it as a submission. He stays seated.
“Don’t let the cab leave without you, okay? I’ll stay with Allegra and call you when we get to the hospital.” I feel as if I’m talking to an elderly gent, but he’s such a fish out of water here I’m scared he’s an easy target. Even the cab driver seems jittery, and I hear the clunk of the car doors locking as soon as I walk away.
I’m nearly at the tower block when Simon winds the window down and shouts out. “You can’t go up there alone.”
I don’t have time to quell his fears. I still have Allegra on the phone, her wailing replaced by a more ominous silence. There’s no doubt she’s my number one priority right now.
“Yes I can.”
Making my way across the littered square and into the stairwell, my high heels bang against the hard concrete. Though I consider taking off my shoes to speed my ascent, the thought of broken glass makes me rethink. Instead, I put my weight on the balls of my feet, eschewing my heels altogether. I pull the hem of my dress down in order to look halfway decent.
It’s fairly quiet when I get to the fourth floor. I make my way to Daisy’s flat, all the while speaking softly down the phone. “I’m nearly there, sweetheart. Just another minute, okay? Keep breathing.” By this point Allegra’s unable to talk. The only sounds I hear are soft sobs and the occasional gasp. I want to hold her and tell her everything is okay. But it isn’t; it hasn’t been for a long time. We’ve let her down, every single one of us. Made this eight-year-old child grow up so quickly.
“I’m outside the door, can you open it?” Taking a deep mouthful of air, I steel myself for what’s inside. There’s a rattling, followed by the complaining creak of a hinge, and the door swings open. Allegra launches herself at me, her head slamming into my chest. Her loud wails cut through the silence and it takes me a minute to realise she’s actually trying to say something. Chant it, really. I have to stoop down to make out the words.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Like a litany, she says it over and over.
I stroke her hair, murmuring gentle words in an attempt to calm her. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”
“It is, it’s all my fault. I lied, I said he wasn’t here. I told them she wasn’t taking drugs. Please don’t hate me.”
“I don’t hate you, I love you.” I hug her close, trying to show how much I mean it. Allegra’s cries become louder, almost hysterical. I bury my face in her hair. “I need to go inside and check on your mum. Do you want to wait out here?”
“Don’t leave me.” Her small hands make fists against my chest, clinging onto my dress as if she’s trying to hold me back. For the first time I hesitate, torn between an unconscious woman and her distraught child. When I see Daisy’s neighbour poking her moon-face around her door, I almost want to smile.
“Hey, can you come and help?” I look directly at her.
A flash of recognition passes over her face. She must remember me from our conversation a few months ago. The last time I found Daisy in her flat.
“What’s up?” She leans on her door jamb and crosses her arms, looking down at Allegra. “Has that bastard hurt her again?”
“I don’t know what’s happened. All I know is Daisy’s unconscious in there. Can you look after Allegra while I go inside?” When I say her name, Allegra clings on tighter. I have to unclasp her hands finger by finger. I go to move away and she starts to shake, her whole body wracked with shudders.
“Don’t leave her. I’ll go in and check. If that arsehole’s in there I’ll fucking cut him.”
I don’t know what it is about this woman, but I’m impressed by her. She’s fierce, but if she has your back, you’re golden. She doesn’t wait for an answer, just pushes past us into Daisy’s flat. The door swings behind her and Allegra grabs hold of me again, pressing her face against my shoulder as if she’s avoiding looking inside.
We stand on the balcony, clinging onto each other, and listen to the faint wail of sirens in the distance. They’re moving ever closer to the estate. In the moments that follow, bright blue lights flash as an ambulance speeds toward the building, flanked by two police cars. I’m not surprised to see the police are here; this place is too dangerous for the paramedics to come without backup. Only fools like me would make that kind of misjudgement.
* * *
The police make their way to the fourth floor. I notice they’re armed, wearing thick bulletproof vests that remind me of a muscle suit. By this point Allegra has all but collapsed against me. I realise how heavy she is when I try to support all of her weight. Shock has strange effects on people, and with Allegra, it’s sending her to sleep. As if it’s the only way for her to maintain a semblance of sanity. I can empathise with that.
“Can you tell me what happened?” A policeman steps in front of me. He’s an older guy, maybe in his early forties, with one of those faces you want to spill your secrets to. Open and honest.
I hug Allegra a little closer. “She found her mum unconscious on the floor. When she tried to wake her up there was no response. That’s when she called me.”
“She was alone?” His face says it all. The situation is appalling.
“Yes. It’s just the two of them. She’s only been back for a while. Was in care before that.”
“So it’s just her mum in there?”
“No. One of the neighbours has gone in to check on her. She’s from four-ten.” I point at the open door and he nods. It’s interesting, the way he takes everything in. I get the impression he’s noticing a lot more than he lets on. Perhaps he’s weighing up the risks, assessing what the next steps should be. I just wish he would hurry up and get Daisy some help.
“Anything else I should know?”
“She has a boyfriend. He’s a dealer.” I can’t bring myself to say his name. “He went away for a while but I’ve heard he’s back. I don’t know if he’s involved but he isn’t here at the moment.”
It isn’t even worth lowering my voice. Trying to shield Allegra from the cruelty of life is futile. She’s seen everything, heard it all, and been knocked down by reality before she’s even learned to stand.
When the paramedics are given the all-clear, they enter Daisy’s flat, carrying bags and equipment, conferring with the policemen who accompany them inside. I’m immediately struck by the lack of action. There’s no shouting, no running in and out. Such a difference from when I found Daisy beaten up on her bed. That time there was a lot of noise, loud attempts to stabilise her condition, before moving her down to the ambulance and rushing her to hospital.
This time, however, their silence seems ominous, almost unbearable. My heart drops when Daisy’s neighbour finally emerges from the flat, her lips turned down and her eyes barely meeting mine. When I do catch her gaze, she shakes her head slowly and I know for sure what I’ve suspected all along.
Daisy’s gone.
That’s why they aren’t hurrying or shouting, and that’s why there’s no frantic dash to the ambulance as a paramedic covers her mouth with an oxygen mask. There’s no urgency when she’s already left us. Time can run a little slower for the dead
.
Instinctively, I pull Allegra closer. Then the kind-faced policeman walks out, his cap held in his gloved hands. There’s a pale tinge to his face when he comes to a stop in front of us. “Can I have a word?”
I gesture helplessly at Allegra and his expression softens. He seems like the kind of guy who has his own kids. Knows exactly why I’m hesitant. “Maybe Dee can look after the little one?”
I must look confused because he points at Daisy’s neighbour. It takes me a moment to realise she must have a name. Dee. So average and normal for somebody in such a messed-up situation. The banality of her name somehow makes everything feel worse, as though the world is off kilter. I try to shake the feeling off as I pass Allegra to her. She’s barely aware anymore, her consciousness shut down like an overheated computer.
The policeman waits patiently. When I’m free he places his hand on my shoulder, leading me out of Allegra’s earshot.
“Are you a relative?”
“Of Daisy’s? No, we’re friends. Or at least we were.” I frown, recalling the last few weeks. “I work at a drug clinic where she’s being treated.”
Not anymore, the little voice in my head says. I feel myself choke up.
“Do you know of any relatives at all? Any who live nearby?” He’s still softly spoken. Non-judgemental.
“She doesn’t talk to her mum. Hasn’t seen her for years…” I trail off, trying hard to think. “I don’t remember her mentioning any other relations.” I’m not including Darren. He’s not a relative, he’s a parasite.
“In that case I’m going to need your help.” He looks over at Allegra. Dee is leading her into her flat next door. Her arm is wrapped protectively around her. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you that CPR hasn’t worked. They tried to revive your friend for the last ten minutes, but there’s no sign of life.”
