Chapter 49
FORTY-NINE
ANNA
Gray was alive. I saw him in the garden, the low autumn sun shining behind him so that at first I wasn’t sure it was really him.
But, from the upstairs window, I could clearly see a figure below me, sweeping the ground.
I could hear the swish of the broom over the flagstones and the rustle of the leaves as they piled up against the base of the silver birch tree.
There was another sound too – music. I could hear it only faintly, and when I tried to open the window to be sure I found that the sash was stuck.
Frustrated, I turned and hurried downstairs.
But when I reached the kitchen, it was chaos – unwashed glasses and leftover food everywhere, the aftermath of a party.
I’d have to clear up before I could go outside.
I began gathering up plates and glasses, but realised that there was no dishwasher where it should have been, nor any sink.
I was going to have to stack everything in a washing-up bowl and carry it upstairs to do in the bath, the way I had for months during the house renovations, when we’d had no kitchen.
Why had we thrown a party in a building site? It seemed we had. Perhaps our guests were still there, outside, and that was why music was playing.
I could hear it more clearly now: the notes of a piano drifting in like feathers carried by a breeze.
And there were feathers too – thousands of them, as if it was snowing indoors.
Augustus must have caught a bird. I would have to find its body and clear that away too, in case one of the children saw it, before I could trace the source of the music.
But the call of the sound was too strong. Abandoning the messy kitchen, I pushed open the glass doors leading to the garden (how were they there, when they had been installed after the rest of the kitchen?) and stepped outside.
Somehow, it was no longer autumn but full summer.
The climbing roses Gray had planted along the fence were in full bloom – perhaps it was their petals I had seen drifting in the air, and not feathers after all?
But I didn’t look at them, because there, in the centre of the garden where the birch tree should have been, was a grand piano.
The sun glinted off its polished top, making it almost too bright to look at, as if it was topped by a mirror instead of a piece of mahogany. But, despite the glare, I could see Gray sitting there, smiling, his hands floating over the keys, the music everywhere.
I sat next to him on the stool. I could smell his cologne – violet and sandalwood – and feel the warmth of his body next to mine.
‘I’ve forgotten how to play,’ he said. ‘I’m out of practice.’
I said, ‘Let me help.’
I reached my hands out and placed my fingers on the keys.
I didn’t know how to play – I’d never got past ‘Chopsticks’ as a child.
But now the notes came easily from under my hands, my fingers moving in sequence like ballerinas on stage.
I played faster and faster, but I couldn’t keep up with the tune alone until Gray’s hands joined mine, his fingers slotting into the spaces between my own.
The music surged, louder and louder, faster and faster. We couldn’t sustain this pace – the notes were becoming discordant and jumbled.
‘We’ll wake the children,’ Gray said, and I remembered him saying that once before, when we’d had sex out in the garden on a summer night after too much champagne.
I said, ‘They’re fast asleep. It’s after midnight.’
But our rhythm was broken now.
‘Stop,’ I said. ‘This isn’t working.’
Gray didn’t stop, even though I asked him to over and over, struggling to hear my own voice above the crashing chords. Somehow he was still playing even though I could feel his hand on my shoulder, shaking me almost roughly.
‘Mum.’ I heard Barney’s voice; we’d woken the children after all. ‘Mum? Are you all right?’
Now I could recognise the tune we had been playing – it was the alarm going off on my phone. The piano stool became the sofa in the front room – the ground floor space that we seldom used. Why was I there? I must have fallen asleep there after Laurel had left.
I opened my eyes and my hangover hit me like a brick.
‘You were having a nightmare,’ Barney said.
He was squatting down next to me, his face full of confusion and concern.
With difficulty, I sat up. I was fully dressed except for my shoes, which I must have kicked off before I fell asleep. I must have set an alarm too, but I had no idea why.
‘What time is it?’
‘It’s six o’clock. It’s nearly dinnertime.’ Barney’s tone was almost accusatory. ‘You were saying, “Stop, stop.” Was someone hurting you in your dream?’
‘No.’ I wiped my face with my hand. I’d been drooling – how, when my mouth was as dry as sawdust? ‘I was having a dream about Dad. He was still alive.’
‘I have that dream too,’ he said. ‘Lulu does as well.’
‘I suppose it’s a thing.’
‘Mum. You don’t usually sleep on the sofa. Were you…?’
‘I’d had too much to drink, when Laurel was here earlier.’ And more after she left. In fact, come to think of it, I’d been drinking solidly since meeting Seren that morning. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘That would be lovely. Thank you, darling.’ Then my memory began to snap into focus, and I asked urgently, ‘Is Lulu here?’
He was already halfway down the stairs. ‘She’s been in her room all afternoon. She’s watching YouTube videos about nurse training. I’m keeping out of her way in case she tries to practise first aid on me.’
Thank God for that. Perhaps only Barney would realise the state I was in.
I struggled to my feet and made it to the ground floor loo, where to my relief I didn’t throw up.
Then I went downstairs to find Barney. The kitchen was tidy – a surprise, because the shadow of my dream was still hanging over me. There were a few crumbs of food in Augustus’s bowl. Barney was fishing a teabag out of a mug.
‘You’re an angel,’ I told him. ‘You cleaned the kitchen and everything. Thank you.’
‘That’s all right.’ But his face was wary, and he couldn’t quite meet my eyes.
I sat down and he brought me my tea. It was stewed dark, with just a splash of milk, exactly the way I liked it.
‘Barney,’ I said. ‘About all this – this afternoon. You seeing me like that – I’m sorry.’
‘That’s okay,’ he muttered. Then he added, ‘You know what Dad said, before he – you know.’
‘What was that?’
‘He said, “Take care of your mum.” And me and Lulu promised.’
Jesus. I felt my face burn with shame. At the time, I hadn’t understood what lay behind Gray’s words, but now I did. Now I knew, because of what Seren Chamberlain had told me, what taking care of his mum had meant to Gray.
Those years of looking after the person who should have looked after him. The chaos, the uncertainty. And I knew what it had led to: the decision to leave it all behind – to erase his childhood entirely. To reject his mother completely, even after she had tried to take her own life.
If I carried on like this, I’d be doing that to Barney. I’d be replaying the teenage years his father had endured. And I’d be risking my son – my precious boy – hating me and leaving me behind forever like Gray had left Louisa.
And I mustn’t – I couldn’t. This would have to change. I would have to change.
But first, there was something I needed to do to chase away the last of Gray’s demons.