Her Greatest Mistake by Sarah Simpson (30)

Cornwall 2016

My heartbeat disturbs me. I open my eyes; blackness is everywhere. I hold my hands up in front of me. I see nothing. I pinch my thumb and index fingers together; I have feeling though. I lie still and listen to my heart beating in my ears. Droplets of sweat, between me and the sheets.

I feel you just the other side of the glass. We can feel each other, though you can no longer see me. You are wondering if you should now leave. Just one last sniff of the air, you decide, the air we share, nothing but glass between us. Both of us together, counting each breath. Did you think I was dead, that night? You didn’t know, did you? You just wished I were dead, we were dead. You lost control.

I feel for my legs, slightly numb, almost bruised to the touch. A psychosomatic delusion. I drag them one by one, cautiously placing disoriented feet on the floor. One at a time. I stand, and move towards the glass. On the last step forward, I see the stars. Tiny spotlights looking down on us in judgment. A moment of confusion on the outskirts of sleep hounds me; my feet search for familiar grounding as I touch the pane of my bedroom window. I’m not in the car; I’m in the safety of my bedroom. Just another flashback. I peer out at the starlit darkness. Still, I see you. A dark vanquished shadow retreating. You would have come back that night, wouldn’t you, if you’d known we didn’t die? Have you come back this time for the flash-drive, or, as I now suspect, for me?

Because I am still breathing. Scarred, but breathing.

I’m not so afraid any more. Even the dreams cannot harm me, however real they first seem. I didn’t wake for the dream; I woke, sensing you, outside my window. Calm, resolute, betrayed. Have you shrunk in size? Your shoulders less broad, your back less upright? Though your subdued shadow does not fool me.

Evil doesn’t die, if it still lives.

I creep in darkness to Jack’s room; old habits take a long time to perish. He’s deep in sleep. I hope his dreams are somewhere safe, normal. His mobile sits goading me across the room, winking at me, daring me to take a peek. No, I will not give in to paranoia. I shiver as a chill darts across my shoulders. We are nearly there, Jack, nearly there.

Returning to my bed, I pray for sleep.

*

‘Mum,’ whispers the familiar voice. ‘Mum?’ I feel the bed give way near my legs. ‘It’s time to get up. We’ll be late again.’ I prise reluctant eyes open to see Jack grinning down at me. ‘You really should get yourself to bed earlier. No wonder you can’t get up in the mornings. Don’t you realise how important sleep is?’ he mimics me.

‘Cheeky little monkey.’ I prod him.

‘Hey, not so much of the little – have you checked these biceps out?’ He flexes his muscles. ‘And, you may have noticed—’ he straightens his back, getting broader by the week ‘—I’m quite a bit taller than you, now.’

‘Hmm. Now, get yourself down those stairs, and make me some coffee? Please?’

He stands up and wanders out, seemingly without a care in the world. ‘What’s it worth?’ he says.

‘Being fed and watered,’ I call after him.

I must only have dropped back off to sleep an hour or so ago. I feel like death warmed up. Each and every muscle aches, beneath the surface, bruised and battered. Moments later, Jack barges back through the door, spilling the coffee from the overflowing mug, wiping it away with his foot. ‘Oops, think I’ve overfilled it.’

‘Thanks, Jack.’ I reach for the mug, and slurp. ‘You’re definitely my favourite. I can drop you in this morning – I’ve early clinic – or would you rather go on the bus?’

‘Cool. No, I’ll come with you. The bus takes forever.’ He turns away.

‘Are you home on time tonight?’ I need to know how much time I have later.

‘Yeah, think so. Should be. Why?’

‘Just wondered,’ I say. ‘Quick with the shower, please. I’ll jump in after you.’

I flick my mobile into action, scanning down the contact numbers. It’s still there. I was paranoid I’d accidentally delete it. I study it. I still can’t decide if you slipped up with one of your silent calls. Or, if you intended for me to have it? I called it anonymously, before sending that first text, just to make sure; you didn’t answer. But you were studying the screen, searching for a non-existent caller ID, weren’t you? You knew it was me.

Do you also know I’ve decided today will be the day? The end of the end.

Jack will be home on time, I’ll return as normal, then, once I know he’s safe, go back out, not for long. It won’t take long. I release my breath. Do I really know what I’m doing? Do I know who I can trust? Have I considered all the possible outcomes? I flick back through my mobile to the last message from Billy. It arrived late last night.

I read it a couple of times, to make sense of it. I texted back, asking him to explain; he just answered, TTYS. I looked it up, with no idea of its meaning; he would talk to me soon. It didn’t take much to decipher the code, what his intentions were. I can’t let him do it. He’s suffered enough, his life already cursed from such a young age. He’d be taking my place in my metaphorical cell; we both deserve freedom. I need to act quicker than him.

Forty-five minutes later, Jack and I leave the house, ready for another not so normal, but usual day. Just as we’re about to drive off, I notice Gloria pottering in her front gated area.

‘One minute, Jack, wait here.’ I leap from my seat.

‘What? Mum, come on, you’re going to make us late. I play footy before registration.’

‘Wait there, I’ll be one minute.’

I leave him huffing and puffing, to scamper back up the pathway.

‘Gloria?’ She doesn’t hear me, and makes her way to her front porch. ‘Hi, Gloria?’

She turns, her wizened face lights up. ‘Oh, Eve, love, how are you? I’ve not had chance to see you for a little while.’

Kind eyes study me; I instantly know she hasn’t done anything wrong. How could I have thought otherwise? ‘I know, I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy. We’ll catch up soon, promise.’ She smiles warmly at me, reaching for my hand. ‘I haven’t got much time to stop, Gloria, need to get Jack to school, me to clinic, but can I ask you something?’

‘Yes, love, of course. Anything. What is it?’

‘You may not remember, but the other day you asked me if I’d enjoyed the surprise? Or something to that effect.’

‘Yes, love, I did, I remember. I was very excited for you.’

‘But you were not referring to the cake you made, were you? It’s just, that’s what I thought you meant at first.’

‘Oh, no, love, no. I was talking about your friend, from overseas. Such a lovely girl, isn’t she?’ Gloria covers her mouth with her hand. ‘Oh, have I just ruined the surprise? I thought you knew, thought you’d found her letter.’

‘No, of course not, it’s fine. You mean the letter you put in my briefcase?’

‘Yes, love. Well, she asked me to keep it secret. She was only here for a little while, wanted to surprise you, could I put the envelope somewhere you’d definitely find it, she said. Then afterwards, I thought, why on earth did I put it in your briefcase? Of all the places, it could get lost in your files, and with them being so private too, I shouldn’t have. Then, when you didn’t mention it, I thought I better had. Hope I haven’t done wrong.’

I squeeze her hand. ‘Of course you haven’t, it’s absolutely fine. But, can I just ask, not that it really matters, but, why didn’t you just leave it in the house? I’m only curious.’

‘Well, love, that’s what I asked her too, why not just put it through the letterbox? But she said she wanted you to get the surprise personally. She was worried Jack might open it first otherwise.’

‘I see, now it makes sense,’ I say. ‘Right, I must be off, hopefully see you over the weekend. Pop by for a cup of tea, won’t you?’ I say.

‘I’ll look forward to it, love.’ A slight frown appears as I release her hand. ‘I’m assuming she didn’t catch up with you, then, your friend?’ she asks.

‘No, not as yet,’ I say. ‘Not really had the chance.’

‘Because, she came back, you know, hoping to catch you in. We had a natter. I did say before, you’re rarely here in the daytime, but she was passing by, so tried her luck. Shame.’

‘Right,’ is all I manage. ‘Was she here long?’

‘No, love, a few minutes. She seemed as if she was in a hurry. A little on edge. Humphrey liked her though. Made a proper fuss of her.’

The smell on Humphrey. ‘Did he, now? She made a fuss of him too, I suppose?’

‘Oh, yes, picked him up, loved him,’ she says. ‘After she’d gone, I let him at yours – meowing, he was, on the window sill.’

‘You gave him some food, too?’ I ask, everything beginning to make sense.

‘I did. Bless him. Then I was worried he’d be trapped in the house. It was a lovely day, so I opened that small window in the utility, thought he might find his own way out if he needed to.’

*

Thirty minutes later, weighty feet carry me up Lemon Street; headstrong gusts push against me as autumn leaves loop my shoes. I still can’t believe I’ve misjudged Sam so badly. How did it escape me, all those years ago, she was my chief bridesmaid, at the same time as having a torrid affair with the groom? I thought I knew her. Who else did I underestimate along the way? I climb the few steps, shoving at the door into clinic. I should have stayed off work today, but I have to keep my routine as normal as possible. Ruan raises his hand to me, engrossed in a telephone conversation. I continue through to my room. Minutes later, he delivers me hot coffee, still glued to the handset. Life does go on, it seems, even if you don’t feel part of it.

My day is chock-a-block. I somehow manage to operate under the clinician’s hat. At times, almost forgetting the magnitude of what lies ahead. A long-standing eating disorder, a consequence of early-school-years bullying. A complicated marital breakdown, with child protection issues, and someone who has developed a chronic phobia of seagulls. A telephone conversation with Milly’s mum, as we’re reducing our appointments, and Milly is doing well. My mind buzzing from copious amounts of caffeine, and trepidation, I write up my notes, then sit back into the depth of my chair. Close my eyes, and attempt to clear my mind. Seconds later, I jump up and pad over to the bookshelf. I pick out my grandfather’s book. ‘Forgive me,’ a voice inside says. ‘I’ve no choice. I have to do it; I know you’ll understand.’ I glance at the clock; my stomach rolls. It’s time to send the text.

A familiar numbness creeps over me. Reaching for my briefcase, I locate my mobile. In my mind, I see you, sauntering somewhere, clutching your mobile, anticipating my next move. Enjoying the moment. A shiver dancing down each vertebra. In the early hours of this morning, I was more okay with this stage; things feel less real, somehow, when everyone sleeps. I can’t lose my nerve, not now. Not if I want Jack to be free. Feeling unsteady on my feet, I lower myself back into the chair. Body and mind high on cortisol, mingling with adrenaline.

I stare at the screen of my mobile just as two bodies appear from behind the door: Bea and Ruan. ‘We thought you might fancy a drink later?’ incongruent smiles ask me.

‘Umm, no, I can’t. Thanks, but—’ Wait, this might just work. ‘What time you thinking?’

‘Sixish, or whatever suits you, makes no difference to us,’ offers Bea.

‘I’ll be there all night, so any time,’ says Ruan. ‘Come on, you look like you could do with a drink. No offence or anything.’

‘None taken.’ I do some speedy calculations. ‘Actually, I might take you both up on that. I’ve something on, straight from here, but I should be there sometime around six. All being well.’

‘Bring Jack too, if you’re worried about leaving him,’ Bea says.

I think about this. ‘Thanks, but I think he’ll be fine.’

They exchange a knowing glance. ‘You sure? It’s really not a problem for us,’ says Bea.

‘No, really. I’m sure, he’ll be fine. Thanks, though.’ I indicate my mobile. ‘I’m just about to call a client.’

I watch them leave, closing the door behind them. I type my instructions and click send. It’s the ‘first foot off the cliff’ moment again, I close my eyes. Seconds later, I’m informed, it’s been delivered. Placing my head in my hands, elbows on the desk, I try and remind myself who I am or who I used to be. Before you swaggered into my life, I was carefree, trusting, contented. Do you have any idea how much I’ve needed to change, to survive? To protect our son. Would I have become the person I am now, if it hadn’t been for you? But then, would I have needed to isolate myself, scratch off anyone who was important to me, if it hadn’t been for all the misplaced perceptions of others? The lies, so many lies, not to protect you, but to protect my self-worth, Jack. I mean, who remains in a marriage with someone like you? Who becomes the wife of a man like you? The mind thief. I’ve always wondered myself.

But by the time I wondered it was too late.

You’d already walked me along the fateful path, opened the cell door, showed me in. The figurative room had many one-way windows. I could see out but nobody could be allowed to look in. You gave me the key to this room; you placed it in my naive hands, watched me lock myself in. Made no attempt to take the key from me, did you? Allowed me to believe I could escape any time. Except, this wasn’t true, was it?

Lies and deceit bolted the door from the other side.

As time went on, your weakness became my strength. Our son. You viewed him as a threat, didn’t you? He changed my perception, my context, built my resolve. Your plan backfired as much as mine did. Because of Jack, tonight, I will force myself to walk back through the creepy corridors of what is our past. The only way me and Jack can truly be free is for us both to revisit, face to face. It’s not even about what I do tonight – more what I don’t do. I can live with this. Having learned the hard way about perception and context, I wonder if you’ve remembered – no one knows you are here, other than those who despise you; you have no context. You do not exist. You will not be missed. I will have no guilt.

You’ve nothing to lose; I have it all to lose. Rumour has it, the greater of the emotions at war will always succeed.

Yours is hate, mine is love.