The Things You Didn't See(17)

‘I’ll go check on Hector.’ He reaches for the handset to the phone on my bedside cabinet.

‘Leave it there, please. If the hospital calls, I want to be the first to know.’

Reluctantly, he replaces it.

When I’m alone, I listen.

I can hear Daniel talking to Dad in our spare room at the end of the hallway, a low rumble with bouts of silence. I know what he’s asking, and what Dad will reply: no, he doesn’t need anything. Nothing will help.

I’m hot and push the duvet aside, looking down at my body. Pale and saggy. Scarred. The stomach of a woman who had a child and didn’t do enough exercise afterwards, despite her partner owning a holistic gym. I was too busy enjoying Victoria.

Daniel could have chosen any woman he wanted. His lover before me was a world-class athlete and in the photos, I’ve seen how lean she is, how fit. But he isn’t superficial – he doesn’t just improve people’s bodies, he improves their lives. People travel miles to see him. He’s a healer, a reiki master, and an advocate of samphire juicing. People call his radio show for advice, doctors refer patients to his gym, people stop him in the supermarket with questions. And he never resents it; he always gives people what they need. Whenever hidden doubts surface, I know it’s my insecurity taking over – my fear that a wonderful man like him can’t really be happy with me. I never was confident, was I, Mum? Never learned to stand on my own two feet. If you die, I’ll have to start.

On my left bicep, I notice a bruise, the dusky grey shade of an unripe grape. I touch it and find it’s the length of my middle finger. Why didn’t Daniel say anything when he saw me naked?

Then I remember Saturday morning, and Jet jumping up at me, knocking me back against the door frame. I hadn’t realised how hard I’d knocked myself, but the mind blocks out pain when it needs to. It’s like those stories you hear of people on mountains, who walk to safety with broken ankles. The body shuts down when the mind has other things to concentrate on.

I close my eyes and hope for oblivion. I don’t know when the tears start but they seem like they’re not going to stop. I’m weeping for you, Mum. I can hear Daniel putting the chain across the front door. It was already there when we bought the house, but we’ve never used it before. Does Daniel think the same then, that this wasn’t a suicide attempt? That bad things happen, even in sleepy Suffolk?

I’m woken by a single ‘tring’ coming from the handset beside me, meaning the second phone in Daniel’s study has been picked up. I stare at it as if to hear through the cream plastic. Through the wall, I can hear his voice, low and indistinct.

I slide from the bed and tiptoe along the hallway to listen.

I hear him say, in a low voice, ‘It’s difficult right now, things being like they are. She’s very sick.’

Then he’s silent, listening. Finally, he says, ‘I know. I promised, didn’t I? It will happen. Nothing has changed, Monica.’

Monica. I return to the bedroom and hide under the duvet.

I close my eyes and wait for sleep.





DAY 2

SUNDAY 2 NOVEMBER





8

Cassandra

When I wake, I hear an unfamiliar voice and then an animalistic keening. I dress quickly and, holding the banister for support, go downstairs, bare feet registering cool kitchen tiles. The whining isn’t human, it’s dog. Jet throws himself at me, bangs his tail on my legs, his black-and-white muzzle pushing between my legs until I shove him away.

‘Jet, stop it!’ I look up, and Daniel is quickly by my side. ‘Has something happened? Is Mum . . . ?’

‘Everything’s fine, love. It’s only the dog being returned.’

‘By me,’ says a loud, rather arrogant voice. ‘I had him overnight to help you out.’ There, in a cold waft of air that tells me he’s just arrived, is the headmaster at the primary school. Mr Godwin.

‘Thank you, sir.’

Even though he hasn’t taught me in twenty years, old habits die hard. He’s often in the library asking me to put up his posters, his pinched face emblazoned on them, alongside shouty slogans. Since the campaign began, he’s been hanging around the farm.

I agree with him – the Port Authority shouldn’t buy the land – but I doubt he’d approve of the plans for Samphire Health Spa either.

Daniel guides me to a chair. ‘I’ll get you a Samphire Sparkle, love.’

Uninvited, Godwin runs a hand over the pine settle as if to clean it, then sits. ‘I haven’t had a chance to say how concerned I was to see the ambulance at the farm yesterday. The police officer at the gate wouldn’t tell me anything.’ He shakes his head, as though this is the tragedy, rather than the ambulance. ‘How is Hector?’

Daniel turns from the juicer and says quickly, ‘It’s Maya who’s been injured.’

I see a reaction from Godwin, a lift in his lips that looks horribly like relief, until he rearranges his face to show sorrow. ‘Poor Maya. Injured, you say? Oh dear, they do say the home is the most dangerous place.’

Daniel turns the juicer on, and the silver blade masticates apple, samphire and ginger.

I feel myself sinking, elbows heavy on the table. I rub my face, feeling dry skin on hard knuckles, even while I flinch at Jet’s barking. He pushes his muzzle into my waist and I shove him away but he persists, jumping up and clawing my backside.