34. Sarah
34. Sarah
When my head hurts, or I can’t sleep, or a vision of Danny standing in front of me, his arm raised above my head, comes back to haunt me, I close my eyes and think of Carl.
I imagine he is talking to me, telling me another one of Assami’s wonderful stories. I hear his reassuring northern accent in my head, and suddenly I don’t feel anxious any more.
My favourite story is the one about Fatima. Her life is beset with what she thinks are disasters. But after a long journey that takes her through Morocco to the Mediterranean, Egypt, Turkey and China, Fatima realizes that these terrible things that have happened to her are what eventually make her feel fulfilled.
I picture myself, like Fatima, in the bustling souks of Morocco, swimming in the warm blue sea of the Mediterranean, or staring at the pyramids in Egypt. I imagine how amazing it would be to take a tour of the Blue Mosque in Istanbul, or walk along the Great Wall of China.
Whenever I think of myself doing any of these things, Carl is always by my side. We are laughing or swimming, or he is holding my hand, making sure I don’t trip, or fall, or swim too far away. Holding me steady. Keeping me safe.
The sound of shrieking wakes me with a start. For a moment I can’t place where I am, but then I take in the swirling ocean night light by my side, the soothing blue dolphin wallpaper, and the basket of cuddly toys at the end of the bed.
I am at Jenni and Cherub’s house.
In the bedroom next door I hear Cherub roar, and then the sound of his footsteps and more shrieking and giggling as he chases scampering little footsteps across the floor.
My body – which had flooded with adrenaline – relaxes. I listen to the sound of their laughter, and I smile. This is such a happy house. It’s why I wanted to come here after I left hospital. I couldn’t bear the thought of going home, of being two streets away from Danny’s house.
No, there would be too many reminders of our life together.
Of Danny.
I know the police arrested him after the attack, but I imagine he is back home now. Still drunk. Still angry.
At least I assume he is. No one talks to me about him, and that suits me fine. I’m not ready to deal with how I feel about Danny yet. I know he still needs my help, and I will always be there for him. But only when I feel stronger. When I get better.
With my friends I stick to safe subjects like the weather and the kids and the wedding. Jenni, bless her, offered to cancel, but I told her not to be so ridiculous. Getting better for the wedding in two weeks’ time is the goal I’ve set myself.
‘For pity’s sake!’ I hear Jenni’s voice on the landing outside. ‘Will you lot keep the noise down? Poor Sarah is trying to sleep.’ The door opens and she puts her head around it. ‘Honestly,’ she says, ‘the air strip at Camp Bastion was quiet compared to this place. Are you okay? Can I get you anything?’
‘I’m fine,’ I tell her. ‘I like the noise.’
‘Well, let me know if it gets too much. I’ll go and get you a bowl of soup.’
Lovely, wonderful Jenni. She has taken such good care of me these last few days – and my mum, Jenni insisted she come and stay too.
I can hear Jenni outside my door now, asking Mum if she’d like a bowl of soup too.
My poor mum is in pieces about what happened to me. She still can’t look at my face without bursting into tears. ‘I should have protected you, darling,’ she sobs. ‘I should have been there.’
Dad was devastated too. He came to see me in the hospital with a crazily lavish bunch of flowers. He told me how sorry he was. For everything. Not just about what had happened with Danny, but about letting me disappear from his life.
‘I’ve wanted to contact you ever since I heard you went to Afghanistan,’ he told me. ‘I just never knew what to say – which seems ridiculous now, because now I know exactly what to say, and that is how very proud I am of you. And how sorry I am that this has happened to you.’
He promised he would make it up to me, and he and Mum even managed to have a civil conversation.
‘It feels good to finally forgive him,’ Mum said to me as we sat in the back of Cherub’s car on the drive up here. ‘It’s time for a new start for all of us,’ she said, squeezing my hand.
From the minute we got here, Mum, Jenni and Cherub have guarded me like the Crown jewels. If I so much as put a foot out of bed, Jenni tuts and immediately tucks me back in again.
‘Rest,’ she orders in her most matronly voice.
‘Rest,’ my worried Mum echoes at her side.
‘Rest,’ Cherub says. ‘Or Carl will never let me hear the end of it.’
Carl.
He rings every day to check on me. To ask if there is anything I need. Anything he can do for me. Often there will be a dog barking in the background, or Maggie will say something, and I hear a lightness in his voice. Today, when he rang off, I heard him laughing at one of the dogs.
It makes me happy to think of him laughing. It’s too painful to picture him sitting next to my hospital bed; his anguished expression, the pity in his eyes as he took in my swollen face.
By the time I was discharged, he looked completely exhausted. No wonder! All the time I was there, day and night, he absolutely refused to leave – insisting on sitting at my bedside.
Like a sentry keeping guard.