The Day She Came Back(77)

Daksha’s reply came through.

Too early. Go away. (Just to clarify – this is a genuine go away and not a sarcastic one) D X

Victoria laughed out loud.

There was a knock on the door and Sarah poked her smiling face in.

‘Morning, sweetie!’ she called, and it made Victoria’s heart lurch. ‘Breakfast ready in about ten . . .’

‘Thank you.’

‘How did you sleep?’

‘Good.’

Sarah hovered, as if she wanted more. It would have been a hard thing for Victoria to explain, how she might have been cosy and welcome under her mother’s roof, but these people were to all intents and purposes still strangers and she felt shy about pulling back the duvet and leaping up for the day.

‘I thought . . . erm . . .’ It was then that Victoria saw the paper bundle in her hands. ‘The letters I scanned and sent to you. I thought you might like the actual letters, rather than reading them on a screen. I think it will help bring them to life. That’s what Jens said.’ She raised the stack of envelopes, tied with a wide, glossy red ribbon. And having met Jens, she felt none of the flicker of jealousy that he had been privy to her history before her, none at all.

‘Oh.’ She wasn’t sure what to say. ‘Okay. Thanks.’

Sarah walked forward tentatively and carefully placed them on the desk. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then. Ten minutes or so?’

Victoria nodded and Sarah closed the door behind her.

She peered at the neatly fastened bundle of correspondence. Taking the stack of letters into her hands, she felt the weight of it in her palm; mail considered so precious by its recipients it had been kept, stored and hidden for her whole life. She ran her fingers over the aged paper then put them back on the desk and stared at them for a bit longer, until, with her breathing calm and her head clear, she pulled the ribbon and shuffled the papers, finding the letter she was to read next and very carefully opening it. She could almost feel the weight of Sarah’s hand on the sheet and her heart twisted at the words written.

June 2001

Sarah Jackson

Henbury House

West Sussex

Mum,

Can you please call me?

Please. I can’t use the phone. They won’t let me, it’s part of the fucking programme! But you can call me. Please. Please.

Urgent.





S


July 2001

Sarah Jackson

Henbury House

West Sussex

Mum,

Your visit was unexpected.

It felt odd and good at the same time. Thank you for coming all this way.

I had forgotten just how guilty you make me feel. That permanent look of disappointment on your face that tells me what you are thinking: that if life had gone how you planned it, I would be taking my law degree and you would be telling everyone at the tennis club how marvellously I was doing. Instead, I am in this shitty facility, trying to quash the desire to put heroin into my body. It was getting easier, I felt a shift in my craving, my wants, but since Marcus’s death I am folded in half with grief and I hate that this sadness, which flows through my blood, goes straight into the veins of my unborn child. She deserves better, I know she does, you are right. I hate that this is her start. I have to keep reminding myself that things for her would be a whole lot worse if I were using.

This I cling to.

I have just read this letter back, and to read that Marcus is dead – it’s like I hear it for the first time every time and my tears are falling and I don’t want to live without him. I don’t. I can’t care about anything. How can I live in a world where he is not? How could he leave us? My heart is in tatters. I am so broken. I am beaten. I want to go to sleep for ever . . .





S


‘Oh my God . . .’ Victoria whispered into the ether. Her dad died and her mum wanted to join him. The facts were as hard to digest as they were upsetting. Not that this information was new, but to see it written . . .

July 2001

Rosebank

Epsom

Surrey

Oh, Sarah, my love!

That was not disappointment on my face. It was pain: your pain, because if you hurt, I hurt. You are my child, my only child, and I love you. I will never forget how frail you seem, despite that glorious baby bump.

I have spoken to the counsellor to tell them of my worries that you might be in danger, and they tell me they are concerned too. You tried to hurt yourself? I wept when I found out. Sarah, my love, I urge you, please think of that little baby – cling to the idea of her and the thought of how your life will change.

I might not have liked Marcus, but I know you grieve for him and any grief that fills you up is so very hard for me to bear. I can see he had his demons and I feel sad for his family, sad for you, sad for that little baby who will never meet her dad. But I would be a hypocrite if I didn’t also say that no matter how hard it feels right now, this is your chance to start over.

Don’t give in to the pull of destruction. Don’t you do that!

If I could take your sadness from you and wear it like a cloak for eternity, I would.

I only want for you to be happy, and I want this little baby to be happy. You are both my flesh and blood.

Please hang in there, darling. I asked the doctor if you would be better off coming home, but he said he feared for you if you were not under such close medical supervision. I want you home. I want you home healthy and safe. That is my wish.