Aidan felt as though he had only just closed his eyes when he could hear crying. It was Rowan. She was calling him. Caught between sleep and wakefulness, he tried to answer her, but the words wouldn’t come out. She was tugging his arm and he reached out to her, but there was just empty space where his wife should be.
He woke with a start and opened his eyes in panic. He saw Milly was standing at the side of his bed in her pink gingham pyjamas, her hair a wild tangle around her face and clutching Mousey to her chest with her working arm.
‘What's happened?’ he asked, quickly jumping out of the bed trying to work out what was going on.
She stood sobbing, trying to catch her breath. ‘I had a dream.’
‘Come here, little one,’ he said, lifting her into his arms.
She threw her arm tightly around his neck and her small body softened against his.
He switched on the bedside lamp using one hand and saw that Milly was red in the face as fat tears fell.
‘What's going on?’ a sleepy Jack came into the room after them. ‘Why is Milly crying?’
‘It's all right, I think she just had another bad dream,’ Aidan said. In the time since she had come home from hospital, Milly seemed to be plagued with bad dreams. He wasn’t sure if it was memories of the crash or the grief of losing her mother that was causing them. The earliest appointment he could get with a play therapist wasn’t until January; they all had crazy waiting lists. He hoped they would be able to guide him on what to do to help his daughter but until then he would have to navigate this path himself. Luckily, he had been able to get the boys a counselling session. Well, Jack had gone in, Callum wouldn’t get out of the car when it was his turn, so Aidan, seething with anger, had started the engine and turned for home. Callum had refused several more attempts to see the counsellor so Aidan had given up trying. Callum seemed to be consumed with fury since his mother’s death and Aidan just didn’t know how to help him.
Milly’s small body was still trembling in his arms. ‘I think you should sleep with me again tonight,’ Aidan said as he stroked her face, gently pushing strands of hair back off her cheeks, which were sticky with tears. She had wandered into his bed every night since she had come home from the hospital.
‘Can I sleep with you too, Dad?’ Jack asked, climbing into the bed beside them. ‘I don't like being on my own.’
‘Yeah of course, son.’ Aidan moved over to make room for Jack. At ten it had been a long time since Jack had crept into his parents’ bed during the night, but it obviously helped him feel safe and Aidan was glad to be able to offer him that security when there was little else he could do to fix his pain.
Soon the three of them drifted off to sleep again wrapped in each other’s warmth.
Aidan woke sometime later to find himself clinging to the edge of the king-size bed, caught in a tangle of limbs. He looked around the room with its high ceilings and ornate plasterwork running along the perimeter and central ceiling rose. Rowan had painted the walls a deep smoky green colour a few years back. Aidan had never really liked the shade, he found it too dark, too oppressive. As he lay there in the bed they had once shared, he found himself wondering when they had last made love. Shamefully, he couldn’t remember. Had that been a sign that things weren’t well in their marriage? he wondered. Or perhaps their relationship had been stale all along and he hadn’t realised it.
He got up and quietly crept into the bathroom taking care not to wake the children. There were reminders of his wife everywhere. Her toothbrush still stood in the holder in the bathroom cabinet. Her make-up and glass bottles of perfume with notes of amber and bergamot stood cluttered on the shelf. Her floaty dresses still hung in the wardrobe. Would he just leave them all there forever, gathering dust, getting holey by moths? It seemed easier to let them sit there, until… well, he wasn’t sure when he’d ever be able to face boxing them all up and putting them in the attic or maybe donating them to the charity shop. He knew he would need to tackle it eventually but that was a job for another day, right now he was just trying to concentrate on getting through each day.
He left Jack and Milly to sleep on, then descended the stairs. He entered the peaceful kitchen and made himself a strong coffee. In another life, he would rise early on a Saturday morning, leaving Rowan to sleep on in their bed. He would flick through the news on his phone, savouring the calm before the chaos that the children’s activities would bring later. Dashing to and from rugby matches, guitar practice, swimming lessons, Milly’s ballet class. He would use the time to catch up on some work too; how important he had once felt, staying on top of it all, being the person who replied to emails on the weekend. They used to argue about it; Rowan would call him a workaholic, she would say that the company wouldn’t fall apart if he didn’t reply to his emails out of hours and he would argue back, full of self-importance, that he was providing for his family – that if she wanted the nice house, the holidays, the private schools, then someone had to pay for it. He cringed now at the memory. Ironically, since the crash, he hadn’t given his job a second thought; it was crazy now to think how much of his life his work had once taken up. How his priorities had changed.
Aidan took a sip of his coffee and stretched out his neck; it was stiff from the awkward angle he had slept at the night before. He saw the pile of condolence cards still sitting on the island. He hadn’t been able to face opening them. He had had so many people sending messages of support; his freezer was full of casseroles and lasagnes that had been dropped off and he had numerous offers of help from well-meaning friends. Rowan’s friend Annabelle had dropped over a canvas that Rowan had been working on in the gallery in the weeks before she died that she thought he might like to have. He knew people cared, but it felt as though there was an invisible force field between him and them and he now realised what a lonely place grief could be.
He looked at the collage of family photos Rowan had hung on the wall. His eyes landed on their wedding picture and the pain of her loss seared his heart once more. The photographer had taken it just before they said their vows and they were standing facing one another with big grins on their faces as they held hands before the altar. Aidan could still remember the pride he had felt that day as they shared their love with their friends and family.
He got up from his stool and lifted it down from the nail it was hanging on and held it in his hands. He traced his finger along the outline of her face. He still couldn’t believe she was gone. He felt tears push into his eyes again – when would they ever stop? Every time he thought he was all out of tears, new ones would arrive. It hurt too much to look at her. He opened a drawer and put the photo inside.
It was after eight when Milly entered the kitchen.
‘Me hungry, Daddy,’ she said as Aidan pulled her up onto his knee.
‘I can make pancakes?’ he offered, remembering happier mornings when Rowan would make pancakes for everyone as a Saturday treat.
‘But you don’t know how to make the Mickey Mouse ones that I like, only Mama knows.’ Her small face crumpled and Aidan felt a lump in his throat.
‘Well how about I try and you can help me?’
‘Okay, Daddy. Mammy keeps the mould in here.’ She tore off across the kitchen, happy once again, and pulled open a drawer filled with baking equipment.
Aidan was just mixing the batter when Callum came down and sat on the sofa at the end of the room, his head buried in his phone. He was pretty sure Rowan never allowed him that much screen time, but he didn’t have the energy to face the battle. It was easier just to ignore it and say nothing. Whenever Callum wasn’t out with his friends, he stayed holed up in his room. On the rare occasions when he did venture downstairs, it was usually to stir up trouble with Aidan, and Jack often bore the brunt of his moods too. He knew his son was in pain – he was like a wounded animal kicking out when you tried to help it – but Aidan was at a loss what to do with him. Rowan would have known what to do, a voice echoed in his head. Yeah, well Rowan isn’t here, he snapped back at the imaginary voice.
‘I’m making pancakes if you’d like one?’ he tried, but he was stonewalled again.
Jack entered the kitchen next.
‘Ah good morning, sleepyhead,’ Aidan greeted him. ‘Did you sleep well?’ Aidan asked.
‘I slept great,’ Jack said. ‘Your bed is so comfy.’ He grinned at him. At ten years old, his adult teeth were still sitting with some of his baby teeth, giving his face a goofy appearance.
‘Jack the big baby sleeping with Daddy,’ Callum jeered from the sofa.
‘Stop it, Callum,’ Aidan warned. He was really testing his patience at the moment. He was constantly riling his younger brother, to the point that Aidan was worried it was turning into bullying. He was creating an unbearable atmosphere in the house for everyone. This behaviour was so out of character for him and it all fell squarely upon Aidan to fix it.
Aidan, Jack and Milly ate their misshapen pancakes in silence. Callum’s mood seemed to have rubbed off on them all.
‘How about we go for a cycle,’ Aidan suggested, trying to lift the tension a little. A bit of fresh air was probably what they needed. They were all getting cranky being cooped up in the house. ‘It’s a nice day out there.’
‘Can me get a hot shocklat after?’ Milly asked.
‘Of course. Let’s get this place tidied up a bit first and we’ll go then.’ The housework seemed like a never-ending battle he just wasn’t able to get on top of.
Callum stood up and went into the utility room, before coming back into the kitchen again with his coat.
‘Where are you going?’ Aidan asked as Callum slid his arms down into its sleeves.
‘Out.’
‘But I thought we were all going for a cycle?’ Aidan said.
‘Stop trying to be Dad of the Year,’ Callum roared at him suddenly. ‘Just because Mam is gone, you can’t start trying now. It’s too late.’ His whole face was turning puce with fury.
‘Callum… I…’ Aidan tried. He reached out and placed a hand on his arm.
‘Get off me,’ Callum shouted, pushing Aidan’s arm away.
Milly put her two hands over her ears to block out the noise. ‘Oppppp, Callum,’ she screamed.
Callum walked past them all, his feet pounding over the floorboards in the hallway until they finally heard the slam of the front door.
‘I don’t like it when he shouts,’ Milly sobbed. ‘It makes my ears owee like the scary bang.’
Aidan’s heart stopped. He bent down on his haunches so that he was on her level. ‘Do you mean the crash, Milly?’
She nodded fearfully, biting down on her bottom lip. ‘Me was scared.’
‘Oh, Milly,’ Aidan said. How he wished he could erase those memories from her brain. He pulled his daughter in tight against his chest. ‘I’m sorry, sweetie, that must have been so horrible for you. Callum didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘He’s very angry,’ Jack agreed.
‘I think he’s missing your mam,’ Aidan said. Even though Callum’s words were the words of an angry child, they had stung. Aidan knew Callum was right, he had spent so much time working long hours, but he had done it all for them. Now, with the benefit of hindsight, he couldn’t help question if he could have been present more. Would it have been so hard to collect them from school now and then? he wondered. He tried to make all their matches at the weekend but how many school plays and award ceremonies had he missed because he had a meeting he couldn’t get out of or a looming deadline? Even when he did manage to make a match or concert, he would get distracted by emails pinging on his phone. It would be a while yet before he would be going back to the office, but things were going to change. Never again would his work come first.
‘We all miss her,’ Jack stated, ‘but fighting with everyone isn’t going to bring her back.’
Aidan’s heart swelled with pride at his youngest son’s maturity. ‘You’re right, Jack. I’ll have a word with Callum later.’ Callum was really testing him, but Aidan had lost his wife and he wasn’t going to lose his son too. These kids were his world. He didn’t know how he was going to do it, but he would find a way to get through to Callum, to get beneath his prickly layers of grief.
He pulled both kids into a tight hug, when suddenly the doorbell went. He guessed it was Callum returning with his tail between his legs, having forgotten his key in his temper. Maybe he had calmed down and regretted his behaviour. Aidan felt a glimmer of hope; maybe his son wasn’t as far out of reach as he thought.
‘I’ll be right back,’ he said to the kids as he left the kitchen.
He walked down the hallway where light flooded through the fanlight, throwing segmented shapes along the walls. He pulled back the door, but Callum wasn’t standing there. It was Helena and James.