16. Sarah
16. Sarah
‘Right then, yoos two,’ Jenni says to the twins when we finish our dinner. ‘Bath time!’
She picks up Toby and carries him upstairs while Cherub, roaring, chases Noah out of the living room and up behind them.
When the sound of Noah’s giggles finally disappears, Carl leans forward in his chair.
‘Sarah,’ he says gently. ‘Sarah?’
I’m so used to not talking about Danny, to covering up the sadness that I always carry with me, never articulating what has happened to him, it’s only now I see how incredibly lonely I’ve been. Tears spring into my eyes.
Carl reaches across the table to take my hand. ‘Talk to me,’ he says.
Carl cared about Danny deeply, I know that, and suddenly it feels selfish, not telling Danny’s friends the truth. They, surely, would understand. Maybe even help.
Carl’s eyes soften. ‘Talk to me,’ he says again, but even more tenderly this time.
I swipe at my tears with the back of my hand and let out a shuddering breath.
‘Things haven’t been right since we got back home,’ I begin. ‘Little things would set him off at first – like a car’s hazard warning lights, or the sound of a car alarm. He said they reminded him of the trucks that were loaded with explosives in Afghanistan.’
Carl nods, as if he understands, and I go on.
‘His eyes would glaze over, and his face would take on a strange expression. Like he wasn’t seeing what I was seeing, not hearing what I was hearing. Physically he was there, but mentally he would just up and leave, paralysed by whatever it was he was remembering, unable to speak. As the weeks went by, he disappeared inside himself more and more, and he became more and more on edge. Until …’
Carl gently squeezes my hand. ‘Until …’ he repeats.
And it all comes tumbling out.
Danny trying to strangle me.
Me reaching for the vodka bottle, the bottle smashing on the floor, me holding my arm above my face to protect myself.
The doctor in A&E telling me Danny had PTSD.
How I’ve been frightened to be alone with him ever since.
And how I’m even more frightened that he won’t get better.
The minute I finish, I feel guilty for betraying Danny. Carl is his friend. There was a time when he would have hated for Carl to think badly of him.
‘He didn’t mean it,’ I say quickly. ‘He was devastated when he realized what he’d done. I know somewhere deep inside him the old Danny is still there.’ I start to cry again, because I don’t know if I believe that any more.
Suddenly Carl is kneeling at my side, gently brushing away my tears with the tips of his thumbs. Then he pulls me towards him and holds me tight.
I breathe him in, let my head rest against his body which feels strong and solid and safe.
The room is quiet but for the sound of the dog snoring in front of the fire.
‘Sometimes I think it’s my fault,’ I say, pulling back. ‘And I feel like I’ve failed him because I don’t know how to take away his pain. That maybe if I loved him more …’
At this Carl shakes his head. ‘Sarah, this is absolutely not your fault,’ he says, his voice firm. He puts his hands on my shoulders. ‘You do know that, don’t you? This has got absolutely nothing to do with you. You mustn’t blame yourself.’
I nod, and Carl swings back on his ankles. He goes back to sit in his chair.
‘Poor Danny,’ he says. ‘And poor you.’
For a moment neither of us says anything. Upstairs there is a shriek of laughter, and we both smile.
‘Do Jenni and Cherub know?’ he asks.
I shake my head. ‘They know he has PTSD but not how bad it is. It’s easier to pretend everything is fine. A relief, actually. When I’m with them I get to forget about it, at least for a little while.’
‘But you shouldn’t have to cope with it all on your own. Is Danny getting any help? Are you?’
‘He’s supposed to be on medication, but he won’t take it. He’s supposed to be going for therapy, but he refuses. The only medication he’s interested in is alcohol.’
We hear Jenni’s footsteps on the stairs.
I rub fiercely under my eyes, to wipe away any tell-tale black streaks of mascara.
‘Everything okay?’ Jenni asks.
‘Just feeling a bit tired,’ I tell her. ‘I’ve been on early shifts all this week.’
‘I know what will wake you up,’ she says, grinning. ‘Shots!’
She reaches into the cupboard above the fridge and pulls out a bottle of tequila. She twists the red plastic sombrero hat off the top of the bottle, fills it with tequila, and promptly downs it in one.
‘Oh God,’ Cherub says, walking into the kitchen. ‘The tequila’s out. This never ends well.’
Jenni holds out the bottle to him.
Cherub looks at Carl.
Carl looks at me.
‘Go on, then,’ I say, laughing. ‘Time for a proper celebration.’
Cherub swallows a shot and then hands the bottle to me. With a sharp tilt of my neck, I slug back the capful of fiery liquid.
And immediately regret it.
I’ve drunk so much wine on top of the tequila – we all have – that an hour or so later, when Jenni suggests the four of us learn a special dance to do at the wedding, I find myself saying yes.
‘Absolutely not,’ Carl says. ‘Not under any circumstances.’
‘What he said,’ says Cherub.
Jenni claps her hands in excitement.
‘So that’s a yes,’ she says, reaching out to turn the music up. ‘Dad’s girlfriend is a dancer, or used to be, on cruise ships. She can teach us.’
Cherub dives across her, deftly moving her hand away from the volume button. ‘You’ll wake the kids,’ he says, putting his arms around her. ‘Come on, Tequila Lady. Let’s get you upstairs. Good night, all,’ he says over his shoulder as he leads Jenni, giggling, out of the room.
‘Goodnight, yoos two,’ she calls out. ‘Make yourselves at home.’
Carl crosses to the CD player. His broad back flexes as he takes a disc out of its box, loads it into the machine and hits play.
He turns, and for a long moment we just stare at each other.
Then he holds out his arms. ‘I don’t know about you, but if Jenni wants us to do a dance at the wedding, I could seriously use the practice.’
He smiles at me. I smile and walk towards him.
He places one hand on the small of my back, the other on my shoulder. Then I lean in and bury my head in his chest and, slowly, we start to sway in time to the music.
After a few minutes, he pulls his body back so we are looking at each other again.
He cups his hands around my cheeks. ‘I can’t stand the thought of anyone hurting you,’ he says quietly.
Without thinking, I reach up.
But then, just as I’m about to kiss him, I pull away.