The Babysitter(44)

Mark sighed despondently. He really didn’t have a clue where to start.

Jade reached to squeeze his arm. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘You can tell me all about it while you have your nightcap.’

Picking up her mug, she headed for the lounge. Mark followed, grateful for her understanding, and for the fact that she didn’t seem to be about to give her notice and bolt for the door.

Curled up on the sofa, Jade waited while Mark poured himself a large whisky. Taking a breath, he swilled the amber liquid contemplatively around the glass and then swigged back a large gulp.

‘You looked as if you needed that,’ Jade commented, as Mark waited for the whisky to hit the spot.

‘Yeah.’ Mark ran his hand through his hair and took a seat in the armchair. ‘Strange night.’

‘Do you want to talk about it? I mean, I know you probably feel like a bit of a traitor with Melissa lying asleep upstairs,’ she added intuitively, ‘but I’m a good listener, if you need one.’

Mark nodded. Traitor pretty well summed it up, but what choice did he have? Jade clearly knew there was a problem anyway. He just hoped she wouldn’t think it was too big a problem to deal with.

‘I suspect Mel might be suffering symptoms of depression. I’m not sure yet, but the signs are there. She’s suffered with it before. Severe depression.’

He paused, looking at Jade for her reaction. The sad fact was, some people simply couldn’t cope with mental illness, which was the basis of Mel’s fury with him for discussing it behind her back. The rest, her imagining that he might be having an affair, was fuelled by the negative view of herself she would have right now. Mark was aware of it, but it didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

Seeming to digest the information, Jade nodded.

Her expression was concerned, but not shocked, Mark noted. He took a breath and went on. ‘We lost a child. A while back. A son, six months old.’ Having studied the subject endlessly in his attempts to help Mel get through it, he was also aware that there might not be an apparent cause for the onset of symptoms, that the sufferer might not even be aware of it, but he felt Jade should know the circumstances around it, for Mel’s sake.

Jade paled, now definitely looking shocked. ‘Oh God, Mark, that’s awful. Poor Melissa.’

‘It was.’ Mark took a swig of his whisky. ‘Bloody awful, to be honest. There was a point where I thought I might lose Mel as well. I felt I’d already lost her emotionally. She came back to me, eventually, but…’

Mark trailed off. He hadn’t realised he’d finished his drink until Jade walked across to relieve him of the glass. ‘Another?’ she asked him kindly.

Mark glanced from her to the glass. Alcohol was small comfort, in reality. He’d depended on it too heavily in the past, but now he felt the need to anaesthetise himself, at least for tonight. ‘Better make it a small one.’ He smiled. ‘Thanks, Jade.’

‘You were saying?’ Jade urged him on, as she poured a small measure.

‘It’s not something you just get over,’ Mark confided. ‘Mel really had to work hard at it. She took antidepressants, prescribed on a trial and error basis, had psychoanalysis. She hated it. Hated herself for it. She’s lived in fear of slipping back there since. I suppose we both just hoped it had gone away.’ He’d certainly hoped, desperately. Obviously, he’d buried his head in the sand, rather than realise she might never be truly ‘cured’.

Leaning forward, Mark dragged his hands exhaustedly over his face, and then looked up, surprised, as Jade placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, Mark,’ she said sympathetically. ‘I know how difficult that must have been for you. It’s hard on the sufferer, but it’s hard on loved ones too.’

Accepting the drink she offered him, Mark eyed her curiously.

‘My mum,’ Jade elucidated, smiling sadly. ‘She struggled with depression for years. I do understand, honestly.’

Mark felt a huge surge of relief, and then concern, as he recalled her personal circumstances. ‘That’s not how she…?’ He stopped, not sure how to ask whether she’d had to deal with the worst kind of loss possible.

Jade shook her head. ‘No, I lost my parents in a car accident,’ she said, heading back to the sofa. ‘The car caught fire, actually,’ she said, seating herself in the corner and drawing her legs up underneath her. ‘A gruesome coincidence.’

Christ. A graphic flashback slamming violently into him: images of the dead child who haunted his dreams, calling ceaselessly out to him. Mark almost choked on his whisky.

‘Are you all right, Mark?’ Jade asked, unfurling herself and getting to her feet. ‘You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’

Mark drained his glass. ‘Yes,’ he managed, nodding. ‘Just exhausted.’ Definitely exhausted, he realised. He needed to sleep. And he really needed not to be drinking this stuff on top of endless nights broken with nightmares bordering on hallucination. ‘You must be, too.’

‘A bit,’ Jade admitted.

‘I’m sorry, Jade. About your parents,’ Mark offered. ‘That must have been so hard to deal with.’

‘It was. But we cope when we have to, don’t we?’ Smiling stoically, she shrugged, and then turned quickly to the door as the unmistakable sounds of Evie waking reached their ears.