Not even sure where he wanted to go or what he wanted to do, Harry just drove, his thoughts dark and his heart heavy.
After half an hour he stopped for fuel, alerted by the light on the dash that his fuel tank was empty. While in the petrol station, he grabbed a bacon sandwich too. Although he didn’t really fancy eating, he knew he should because he’d skipped breakfast. The dry bread and the over salty bacon didn’t do anything for his appetite. Feeling full after one half, he threw the rest in the bin.
Harry followed his nose along the A38, driving through Plymouth, and around the south-easterly edge of Dartmoor National Park until he reached his parents’ home in a village on the outskirts of Exeter. If he’d realised that was where he was heading, he’d have taken the A30 which was more direct. The hour and forty minute route had taken him over two hours with the rush hour traffic he’d hit in Plymouth in the morning, but he didn’t care.
As if to add to his torture, he’d driven along the stretch of road that had taken Karin’s life. Before he’d realised it was that particular bit of road, he’d been unable to change his route. No evidence of a wreckage now, clearly, after two years, only his memory remained of the fateful day. Although the stretch of road was set at the national speed limit of sixty miles per hour, it was straight and clear; accidents happened rarely on this part of the road. So why had it happened to Karin? Even to this day, he couldn’t make sense of her accident.
‘Harry! How lovely!’ His mother, April, answered the door. Her expression changed from trepidation about who on earth could be ringing her doorbell to joy and surprise upon seeing it was Harry.
‘Hey, Mum.’ He tried to smile.
‘Why didn’t you call and let me know you were coming? You’re lucky you’ve caught me in,’ she said. Her expression sobered quickly, seeing his grim, cheerless appearance and she ushered him through the front door. She glanced up at the clock in the hallway. ‘Go through to the kitchen; I need to make a call first.’
Sitting at the solid oak kitchen table, he took in the familiar surroundings of his old home; the various old plates his mother had collected over the years hung on one wall, a welsh-dresser displaying her best crockery, the kitchen always immaculate. Leaning on his elbows, chin resting in his hands, he could hear his mother making a call to a friend. ‘Hi, Sue, it’s April, I’m so sorry to do this to you, but can we reschedule lunch? My son’s surprised me with a visit … yes, yes, that’ll be perfect … thanks. Bye, love.’
‘Right then, that’s sorted,’ April said, entering the kitchen. ‘Shall I put the kettle on?’
He shrugged and didn’t say much. His mother made conversation while the kettle boiled, telling him what they’d been up to, that his father was at work and had a number of gardening jobs on at the moment, what his sister, Cathy, was up to. Cathy preferred to be called Cat, but he hadn’t the energy to correct his mother. April had never liked the nickname Cat.
‘So, how are things with you?’ He could hear the hesitation in his mother’s voice, not sure if she wanted to know or not.
‘Work’s good.’ He wasn’t lying there.
‘Aren’t you seeing a new woman? Maddy … is that her name? So how’s that coming along or don’t I dare ask?’ His mother’s caring, loving face looked at him, as she placed her hand over his. Her blue eyes were a little darker than his own, and she wore her mousy blonde hair bobbed, framing her attractive face.
He rubbed his face with his big hands, exhaustion washing over him. He hated himself. Replaying the incident over and over again, if he’d done things differently, would Karin still be here? But if she were, he wouldn’t have met Maddy.
Harry was afraid of how he felt about Maddy. These feelings were what had made him bolt. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time … not since Karin. He wanted to love Maddy … but there was this fear, an internal struggle, that if he got close, if he opened up and truly loved her, the same thing could happen. He couldn’t bear losing another woman.
And then there was the guilt. Was it right to love another woman again, perhaps even more than he’d loved Karin?
However, regardless of how he felt, Maddy probably deserved better than him, someone who could love her without fear, without the depression.
Did his mum deserve to go through all this again? But he had nowhere else to turn …
With this mixture of guilt and self-loathing roiling around inside him, he suddenly needed to be on his own. He wanted to go to bed.
‘Mum, do you mind if I go to my room for a bit?’
‘Yes, yes, of course, darling.’ She ruffled his hair as if he were still ten years old. ‘I’m here when you want to talk about it.’
She knew how to deal with him. She’d helped him when this had really taken a savage hold of him, and they hadn’t been quite sure what it was. At first, they’d thought it was the grief of losing a loved one, but then they’d realised it was so much more.
Harry slipped off his shoes and lay on the bed, on top of the duvet, too warm to actually get into bed. He still called it his room, yet it looked nothing like it had when he was a child growing up. His mother had put a double bed in with a bedside cabinet placed either side, and there was a chest of drawers squeezed in opposite the bed. It was now the guest room, tastefully decorated in creams and reds, with one wall – the headboard end – papered with big printed red and silver floral wallpaper. A feature wall, as Maddy had suggested to him in fact. Much more fashionable than the chintzy wallpaper in his house.
For the first time that day, Harry looked at his phone and saw there was a text message from Maddy. Should he reply? Then his phone battery beeped and died. In frustration, he threw the phone across the room. The splitting, cracking sound of it hitting the wall didn’t bode well for his phone’s life. He certainly wasn’t making things better for himself, only worse.
Did he really care?
Harry stared at the ceiling, his heart weighing him down so he didn’t want to move. The tension in his chest knotted, growing larger and larger, tightening his throat, forming tears, the only way the pressure would release. He didn’t know what to do for the best. This is where a crystal ball would come in handy. He wanted someone to tell him that his future would be okay, he’d survive, and he’d live happily with someone … have children, grow old, that sort of thing.
But would it be with Maddy?