Chapter Seven

Evie

Evie dropped the cover and bumped herself to the end of the bed. ‘I’ve seen you naked thousands of times.’

‘When I was a child. Things have changed.’

‘We’ve both changed. You wait until you’re my age. Believe me, you’ve nothing to be embarrassed about.’ If she could make Tess laugh, she might loosen up and tell her the real problem. ‘You’re spring, and I’m autumn.’

‘I’m a sensitive teenager and you’ve had two children. You left your dignity at the maternity unit. Remember?’

‘I lost it before then.’

‘Mum!’

‘All right. I’m going.’ Evie slid her feet into her slippers, and pushed herself up from the bed. ‘I’m glad you’re feeling better.’ Concerned her good wishes weren’t clear enough, she added, ‘From your sick bug.’ She patted Tess’s covered legs and padded out of the room.

Tess had changed. No longer was she the tiny spot of a girl, in flashing trainers and pink dresses, clutching Old Ted to her flat chest – she was a young woman, with purple Doc Martens, artistic piercings, and feminine curves. She was her own person, and Evie, with all her running around caring for Logan, fretting over Griff, and looking after Dylan, had missed her charming little duckling transform into the beautiful swan.

Guilt came with a nasty, bitter taste.

Evie collected her phone from her bedside table, sighed at the empty message screen, and wandered downstairs. Surely Dylan would be home soon.

Ozzy greeted her in the hall.

‘Hello, my boy. I can feed you, but you’ll have to wait for your walk.’

As she entered the kitchen and opened the blind, her eye was drawn to a glass container on the windowsill. It was as transparent and empty as she felt, the irony being, this was her Happiness jar.

She unscrewed the lid, pulled out the solitary piece of paper, and unfolded it, sighing at the memory it prompted. She read the words again: We all sat down for New Year’s Day dinner – Griff, Tess, Dylan and me.

For the children’s sake, Evie and Griff had managed to set aside their problems for a few testing hours, and eat together as a family – as if Logan had never asked Evie to help him. As if Griff had never left.

She returned the paper to the jar. There should have been a handful of slips for company, but there’d been nothing positive to write about. And if Evie had scribbled a few lines each day, they would have been trivial or fake. Forced.

There was certainly nothing to add since yesterday.

Her mobile rang, startling her from her thoughts. ‘Is Dylan okay?’ She knew it was Griff. In a moment of humour, she’d programmed Elton John’s ‘Someone Saved My Life Tonight’ as his call tone. Appropriate, under the circumstances.

‘Dylan’s fine,’ he said. ‘We both are. The doctor does his round at eight, so we’ll be here another hour or so. How’s Tess?’

‘She seems a little better.’ Evie was touched by Griff’s concern. ‘She just needs to get some sleep.’

‘Her and me both.’

‘You sound tired.’ Evie lodged the phone between her ear and shoulder before screwing the lid back onto the jar. There was no point leaving it open. Until she’d seen for herself that Dylan was well, she had no reason to add another note. ‘You didn’t rest?’

‘No.’

Griff’s succinct reply prompted her into returning the phone to her hand.

‘I was watching over Dylan,’ he said. ‘Did you sleep?’

‘No. Not a wink.’ A tired hum of acceptance travelled the line. ‘We can catch up later.’

‘What about the family lunch?’

‘Your dad can’t come here. I can’t risk him catching this bug.’

‘We can’t risk him catching this bug.’

As much as Griff was a man of responsibility, it was strange to hear him stake a claim in his father’s care.

‘So, you’ll cancel lunch?’

He was definitely pushing for an answer.

‘I’ll cancel the family lunch,’ Evie said, ‘but Logan still needs help.’ That was the next problem. Talk about divided loyalties. Somehow in the next hour she had to be confident Tess was well enough to be left alone, get to Logan’s and help him prepare for the day, and then be home to take care of Dylan. She held her forehead in her hand. The day had barely started and she was already stressed. And hot. Not sleeping was taking its toll.

She removed her palm and blew onto it, but it remained clammy. ‘You could go.’

He wouldn’t, but Evie had to try. At some point the two men had to put their differences behind them. Things needed to be resolved before it was too late.

If Griff saw how poorly his father was it might stir him into taking action, but not telling him about Logan’s rapid decline was another of the old man’s stipulations.

‘Yes, it would be good to make peace before I go,’ Logan had said. ‘But if Griff comes to see me, it has to be because he wants to, not because he’s duty-bound or driven by guilt.’

Evie was in an impossible situation.

If anyone could talk Logan round, it was his headstrong son.

A lengthy silence preceded Griff’s reply. ‘He needs you, not me.’

With no energy to argue, Evie responded with a muted, ‘You’re wrong. I’ll see you when you get back.’ She ended the call, giving Griff no chance to reply, and laid the phone on the table. Had she any fight left, she’d have knocked both men’s heads together. Both needed to see sense. Both needed to understand one another. They were more alike than either wanted to admit – assertive, strong-willed, wanting to stay in control of the world around them. Make the big decisions alone. If only they’d work together. If only they’d see what a formidable force they’d be.

And had they come together, her marriage wouldn’t be in pieces.

She turned as Tess shuffled into the kitchen. ‘I’m not sure you should be up.’ She ushered her into a chair and studied her pale features. Tess didn’t have much colour when she was well – it was a little frightening to see her so white. The dark circles under her deep-set eyes were adding to the overall effect. ‘Can I get you anything? Toast? A cup of tea?’

Tess declined. ‘I’m okay. I might get myself something later. Is Griff on his way back?’

Overriding Tess’s plan, Evie filled the kettle and slipped a slice of bread into the toaster. ‘They’re waiting to be discharged, but that won’t happen until the doctor’s been round.’ She checked the clock above the kitchen door. ‘Another hour or so, probably longer. You know what hospitals are like.’

‘Poor little feller.’ Tess glanced at Evie. ‘Poor you.’

‘I’m all right,’ said Evie, putting Ozzy’s breakfast in his corner. ‘But I’ll be happier when they’re home and I can see Dylan for myself.’

‘It must have been scary, though?’

Evie had spent most of the night awake reliving the moment she thought her son had died. She was certain the image of his small body, lifeless on the floor of his bedroom would stay with her forever. She was building quite an album of pictures like that.

What happened to Dylan terrified her, and she never wanted to go through that again, but he was okay, and that was the thought she had to cling to. She waved away Tess’s question with far more buoyancy than she felt, and turned her attention to tea making.

‘I want you to have this and then you’re to go back to bed.’ She stirred sugar into one of the mugs and passed it to Tess. ‘Don’t pull a face. The sweetness will do you good. And so will this.’ With a feigned flourish, she tossed the hot toast onto a plate, applied a thin smear of butter to the slice, and dabbed a few blobs of Marmite over one half. ‘It used to be digestive biscuits in my day.’ She presented the dish to Tess and gestured for her to start eating.

‘Aren’t you having anything?’

‘I had something earlier.’ Evie dismissed the lie and busied herself with her own drink. Her appetite would return eventually.

‘You’ve got to eat, Mum. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Ever since your bust-up with Griff you haven’t sat down for a meal.’

Evie’s chest contracted. The last thing she wanted was for Tess to worry, but she was testing the theory that what Tess didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

The theory was proven wrong. In the last few seconds it had become apparent Evie was yet to give her daughter a convincing reason as to why Griff had left. She was yet to produce a reason Griff would accept. But she couldn’t tell them. She’d given Logan her word.

She sipped at her tea. ‘Things will sort themselves out.’ She approached the table and sat next to Tess. ‘I promise.’

Tess gave a gentle shake of her head. ‘Things don’t sort themselves out, you know that.’ She moved a hand from under the table and seemed to go to place it on top of Evie’s, but at the last minute, pulled her dressing gown sleeve down and retracted her arm. ‘I thought you were through with hiding from the truth.’

‘I’m not hiding from the truth. I’m not hiding from anything.’ Evie swiped up her mobile and stared at the screen, hoping there’d be a message or an alert – something to send the conversation in a different direction. She jumped as it vibrated in her hand and Logan’s siren sounded. ‘He’s wondering where I am,’ she said, grimacing at Tess. ‘I thought maybe I could nip there and back before Griff brought Dylan home, but I can’t leave you on your own. Not when you’re so unwell.’

‘I’m okay,’ said Tess. ‘I’m feeling much more with it.’

Without replying to either Tess or Logan, Evie muted the phone and slid it onto the table. It had done its job in taking the attention away from her. ‘Would you like me to wash your hair?’

The look of seriously? Tess supplied encouraged a faint smile to play on Evie’s lips. ‘I’ll take that as a no,’ she said. ‘You used to love me washing your hair.’

‘Yeah. When I was three. Anyway, it’s my turn to look after you.’

Kind, sweet Tess. ‘It’s not about turns, my beautiful girl.’ Evie witnessed the scarlet rush to Tess’s face at the release of the word, ‘beautiful’. ‘We need to look after each other.’ There’d been enough role reversal in the past. ‘Including Dylan. You’ll need to look out for each other. I know there’s a big age gap between you, but I never wanted you to be an only child. That was never my choice. I always wanted you to have someone who’ll be there for you when I’m gone.’

‘Mum.’ Tess flicked her head to the side and refused to look at Evie.

‘What? I’m not immortal. None of us are. What’s that saying about bleeding?’

‘“If you prick us, do we not bleed?”’ Tess sighed and settled her eyes on Evie. ‘It’s Shakespeare.’

‘It’s true. And I knew you’d know it.’ She held Tess’s gaze. ‘Beautiful and intelligent.’ Tess wouldn’t accept the compliment, but it wasn’t going to stop Evie reinforcing the point. She remembered what it was to be a teenager. Especially one whose hair colour made her stand out from the crowd. What she didn’t get was why Tess insisted on emphasising her individuality. A smokescreen? She found herself considering the possibilities instead of concentrating on the conversation in hand, when the rumble of her phone brought her back. It vibrated its way across the table. ‘All I’m saying is, I’m glad you and Dylan have each other.’ Evie reached for the mobile, wishing it was a text from Griff, but knowing in her heart it was Logan trying to reach her.

With her free hand, she dragged her fingers across her forehead, attempting to relieve the growing pressure. When that didn’t work, she opened her mouth and squeezed the hollow of her cheeks. The action triggered a yawn, and her jaws cracked. She cradled the side of her face in her palm.

Tess nodded towards the phone. ‘What you’re saying is you’re glad I have someone to share the responsibility with when you’re old and grey?’

It was a playful remark, which blew oxygen into the room. Evie took a deep breath. ‘Life would be simpler if Griff had a brother or sister, but honestly, I don’t mind. Logan’s been good to us. Helping him is the least I can do.’

Helping him to live. Not helping him to die. Evie shoved the thought to the back of her mind. She was too exhausted to cover old ground.

‘I can go. You know. To Logan’s. We get on okay.’ Tess was already out of her chair and heading for the hall. ‘I’ll go as soon as I’m dressed. I can cycle.’

Evie rose and held out her hand for Tess to take. She didn’t, but she’d acknowledged the gesture and she’d wandered back into the kitchen.

‘God knew what he was doing when he sent you.’ Evie reached for Tess and pulled her into a hug. ‘I must’ve done something right to have a wonderful daughter like you in my life.’

The moment passed in silence until Tess pushed herself away. ‘We’ll get through this,’ she said. ‘We always do. But you have to learn to ask for help.’

‘I promise I’ll ask,’ said Evie. ‘But that won’t be today. You need to go back to bed. I’ll see to Logan once Dylan’s home. Griff can stay while I’m out.’

‘I don’t need babysitting. I’m fine. Logan’s going to keep calling until you answer.’ Tess swung round and pointed to the clock. ‘You could be there and back in less than an hour, home in time for Dylan’s arrival.’

With many reasons for keeping her visit to Logan short, Evie was tempted. She’d have to go back later, but the minute lunch was postponed she’d known that. It was going to be a three-trip, maybe four-trip day, so it wouldn’t hurt to make this morning’s a quick one. She rested a hand on Tess’s shoulder and spun her round. ‘Are you sure?’ She checked her eyes. The circles were more grey than black now, almost matching her raincloud irises, but her skin was still pallid. ‘No,’ Evie said. ‘You’re my priority.’

‘Bloody hell, Mother! Will you just go! I’m fine. More than capable of looking after myself. I’ll go to bed and stay there until you get back.’

‘No. Logan can wait.’

‘Logan can’t wait. He can’t even get out of bed by himself. He’ll need a pee.’

Evie raised her palms in submission. ‘Okay. I’ll go. But I want to see you in bed first, with a glass of water on your cabinet. And you best still be there when I get back.’ She waved her index finger in mock reproach. ‘And don’t swear.’

As Evie parked up, she knocked back the cuff of her coat and squinted at her watch. It wasn’t quite eight. If she worked in an efficient manner and refused to be drawn on Logan’s moral dilemma, she’d be home in less than thirty minutes.

Evie had battled with her own moral dilemma for the duration of the journey. Tess was her child, and despite the fifteen-year-old dismissing her, Evie’s conscience was waging war, reminding her how awful and frightening it was to be alone and sick, with no one to hold your hair back as you leaned over the toilet.

Without warning, a vivid and terrifying memory seized her and held her to ransom. She clutched the steering wheel, and held her breath. Her heart was thrashing against her ribcage, her lungs were desperate to deflate and her nerves were making her entire body judder. As she gave in to her lungs’ demands, she gasped for air, coughing as the cold reality of day hit the back of her throat.

He could have been right there with her – Neil – alcohol on his breath, yanking at her ponytail, swearing and calling her useless, pathetic; yelling at her to stop puking; threatening to do her, ‘there and then’, if she didn’t stand up. He did once. While Evie vomited.

She closed her eyes and allowed the scene to play out. It was enough to make her sick, there and then.

‘Give it up,’ she whispered. ‘Set it free.’ She eased open her eyes, listened to the sounds of the world outside, and brought herself back to the empty vehicle. He wasn’t right there with her, but sometimes … sometimes she could smell him – cardamom, amber – expensive aftershave she could no longer bear. Sometimes she could hear his intimidating, insistent commands to do as he said – vile, disgusting things. And sometimes she could taste the stale mint of the gum he would push into her mouth with his tongue.

He wasn’t there; he couldn’t be there; but he would never leave.

Evie chanced a glimpse of herself in the rear-view mirror and accepted the mess staring back. A brush and a band would tidy her hair, but she didn’t tie it back these days.

She didn’t need a visual reminder of Neil’s cruel method of controlling her.

Pulling her around by her ponytail had been a favourite pastime of his.

She appreciated the sense of freedom leaving her hair down produced.

With her nerves under control, she clambered out of the car and hurried to Logan’s door, aware time was marching on. She thrust the key in the hole and let herself in.

‘Morning, Logan. Sorry I’m late.’

No answer. This had become the norm in recent days. It didn’t help with Evie’s nerves. She needed to hear a response from him. ‘I’m coming upstairs,’ she called. ‘Are you decent?’ Still nothing. Was this it? Was this the moment she’d been dreading for the past few months?

She waited outside Logan’s bedroom, her hands clasped, her knuckles kneading her mouth. What if he was dead? What if he’d managed to … No. He said himself he couldn’t open the pill containers. He was sleeping, that was all. He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. No one should die alone.

A dim glow from the bathroom window cast Evie’s small shadow onto Logan’s door, and she stood, transfixed on the shape.

This could be the moment she was released from Logan’s impossible proposition.

Horrified she’d permitted such a callous thought to run loose, she scolded herself. She didn’t wish anyone dead.

Except Neil MacDonald. And that wish had been granted.

She grasped the brass handle and edged her way into the room.

‘Logan, my love, it’s me, Evie.’ As her eyes adjusted to the gloom she saw Logan slumped against his headboard, his chin tucked to his chest and his arms hanging by his sides. She drew back the hefty velvet curtains, filling the room with positive, faith-restoring light, and examined him further. As shallow as it was, there was air passing between his lips. There were also splashes of sick on the blanket concealing his lower half. Logan’s mobile was spattered with the same. ‘Oh, Logan.’

The old man opened his eyes. ‘I called you,’ he said, his voice not much more than a whisper. ‘I called you and you didn’t answer.’ A tear tipped over the brink of his lashes and pooled in the deep trench above his cheekbone. Another, and then another, until the tiny salt lake could hold no more and water flooded his face.

Evie cradled his head to her bosom, offering apologies and hushes for comfort. She gave no excuses, no reasons for her negligence regardless of its origin. They wouldn’t help Logan, and right now that was all she wanted to do. ‘You’re not to worry, do you hear? It’s only sick. I get worse at home. It’s nothing I can’t handle.’

With those words, Logan’s body went into spasm, inconsolable sobs accompanying every one. Evie softened her hold and stooped to see him, but he refused to expose his face.

‘Don’t,’ he said. ‘Don’t look at me.’

‘Logan. It’s fine.’

His head rocked from side-to-side. ‘It’s not fine. It’ll never be fine. Never.’ He jerked free from Evie’s hold, scrunched his eyes shut and clenched his jaws together. ‘Can’t you smell it?’ The words were forced through his teeth. ‘Can’t you smell the shit?’