Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Juliette sat up in bed, gasping for breath. Sweat poured from her in the heat of the night. She looked around, disorientated until she realised she’d been having a nightmare. Then she flopped back with exhaustion, tears pouring down her face.
In her dream, she’d seen Emily in the hospital bed.
The medical staff were holding her back as they attached tubes and machines to her daughter’s tiny body.
She’d wanted to reach out to her, but the nurse kept wheeling the bed further away from her.
No matter how fast she ran, Emily was out of reach.
Although her screams of anguish must have awoken her, it wasn’t the first time.
It was a regular occurrence since Emily’s death.
It had been so unexpected. Then again, Juliette mused, when is sudden death anything but?
The night before she fell ill, Emily had been excited to go to school to show off her new backpack.
The next morning she’d been feeling ill with flu-like symptoms and a high temperature.
Juliette had kept her off school and Emily had slept for most of the day, under a duvet on the settee where she could keep an eye on her as she worked.
But when Emily had gradually worsened, Juliette would never forget lifting up her pyjama top to find red blotches all over her skin.
She’d called an ambulance and then she’d got Danny out of a meeting.
There’d been a frantic race to the hospital, meeting Danny outside the doors as the ambulance pulled up.
They’d rushed through A&E with Emily lying on a trolley bed, so tiny, so vulnerable.
As they’d parked her in a bay, Emily hadn’t recognised either of her parents, no matter how many times they said who they were.
The memory of their daughter being in so much pain still haunted them.
Meningitis had come on so quickly and was already destroying Emily’s organs.
She was put on life support for two days before they had to make the painful decision to switch it off.
There was nothing left of Emily. She was being kept alive by machines.
All their plans went out of the window in a matter of a week.
Juliette had done a lot of research into meningitis afterwards.
Of course most parents knew the glass test, but Emily had had no rash until later.
They thought she might survive by losing a limb or two and that would have been traumatic but fine.
They could have dealt with that because Emily would still be with them.
But Emily had dropped into a coma and hadn’t come round from it.
It had devastated them both, their families too. How could it have happened so quickly?
Juliette had sunk into a deep depression after the funeral, refusing to socialise with anyone.
Staying at home, not going out unless absolutely necessary.
Most people she knew had children and she realised that half the invitations she’d received before her death had been for Emily.
Play dates, birthdays, trips to the cinema or ballpark.
It was there she’d spent time talking to the other mums. It could no longer be a part of her life.
Her work suffered but she managed to get help until she felt more able to cope. Her clients had been understanding if things were a little late, although she made sure she never missed an important deadline for them.
That was when she and Danny started to talk about moving away from the city.
At first it had been small talk but gradually their conversations about it had become longer.
There were too many memories, too many missed opportunities to goad them.
And at least here she could concentrate on her goal to have another child, when the time was right.
She got up and opened the curtains, already knowing the day was looking good by the sun’s rays that were bursting through the edges of the window. She glanced outside: not a cloud in the sky. Great for working outside on the terrace.
After a quick shower she made her way downstairs, pausing halfway down. The front door was open. Her shoulders sank as she remembered closing it last night. Had the medication she’d taken been affected by the wine? Why would she come downstairs again, open the door and then go back to bed?
With the shake of her head, she closed the door and went through to the kitchen.
But her hand shot to her mouth when she saw one of the French doors open too.
Frantically she checked the rooms downstairs but there was nothing out of place.
There couldn’t have been anyone else inside the house.
She prayed there hadn’t been. It must have been her.
Whatever had happened, it unnerved her enough to ring and speak to Danny.
‘Hello, it’s early,’ he replied. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Yes, fine,’ she fibbed, unable to tell him now she had the opportunity. Hearing his voice was enough to ground her again. There must be some valid explanation. ‘I thought I’d catch you before you go to work. What are you up to today?’
‘The usual. Meetings interspersed with tube journeys. It’s so hot here.’
‘It is here too. I have a few hours of work, which I’m going to do in the garden, and then I’ll mow the lawn.’
‘I can do that at the weekend.’
‘It’s fine. I want to try out the new machine.’
There was a long sigh down the line. ‘I wish I was there with you.’
‘Me too, but it won’t be long now.’
‘I hope so. Have a good day.’
After disconnecting the call, Juliette sat down with a thump at the kitchen table. Why would she have been out in the garden in the middle of the night? Try as she might, there was no explanation. Unless she had started to sleepwalk all of a sudden?