JO SAT IN a hard chair outside the consulting room, holding a plastic cup full of tea that she did not want. Her shoulder throbbed and her whole body ached, despite the painkillers she’d taken. Inside, someone from Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services was talking with Lydia. They had asked Jo to wait outside, maybe go for a cup of tea in the canteen, and whilst Jo understood the reason, understood it was to make sure that Lydia wasn’t hampered in discussing anything by the presence of her family, it brought home to her the weight of what had happened. In the emotion, in the adrenaline rush of trying to save Lydia, and then being saved herself, she had been able to forget that this crisis wasn’t the work of a day or two. It was months – years – during which Lydia had been suffering and she had been looking the other way.
Lydia had tried to commit suicide. The people in that room with her were trying to determine whether she was likely to do it again, and whether she would be allowed to go home. The fate of her own child was utterly out of her hands.
They’d been in hospital for hours. Jo had sent Honor home in a cab, her arm in a cast. Apparently she had arranged for Richard to pick up Oscar and Iris; a phone call had confirmed it. Richard had wanted to know what was happening, but Jo had said she’d explain later. It was difficult enough for her to deal with everything that was in her head without subjecting it to Richard’s scrutiny. Honor would have told him all he needed to know. And probably added a few choice words in Russian for his girlfriend.
Jo smiled despite herself. They had saved Lydia, she and Honor together. And then Lydia and Honor had saved her. Whatever happened, that was something. Where there’s life, there’s hope, her mother used to say, crippled with MS.
Yet with her body aching, her daughter behind yet another closed door, she couldn’t convince herself that everything was going to be all right. Or that it wasn’t all her own fault that Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services were interviewing Lydia right now.
She’d never even noticed that her own daughter was gay. Or that she was in love with her best friend – the same best friend who spent huge amounts of time under Jo’s roof. She’d known nothing about the bullying.
She got up and put the full cup of tea in the bin. Lydia had shut her out, yes. But she had been too busy to notice the reasons why. Too busy looking on the bright side, getting remarried, having children. Having an affair. She’d thought she’d been trying her best as a mother, doing everything she could for her children, but from Lydia’s point of view, she was needy. Small and desperate.
What had she thought she was doing?
‘Jo,’ said someone, and even before she consciously recognized who it was, her heart made a great thump of gladness and relief. Marcus was standing there in the corridor, in shirt sleeves and a tie, car keys in his hand. He opened his arms to her and she went straight into them, resting her head against his chest, and as he held her tight she realized for the first time what she had been doing.
She had been falling in love. That was what she had been busy doing while her daughter was going through hell. Not having an affair. Not carrying on with the neighbour. Not using a younger man for his body.
Falling in love.
Marcus tilted up her chin. ‘Are you all right?’
‘How did you know we were here?’
‘We heard that something happened with Lydia at the bridge. Is she hurt? Are you hurt? Why do you have your arm in a sling?’
‘Lydia was … she thought she wanted to jump off. It’s the same place where her father died.’
He tightened his hold on her. ‘But she’s OK?’
‘She’s all right. I mean, physically. She’s all right.’
His scent, the grey-blue of his eyes, the way his hair curled against his neck. The way her body fitted into his. The way he was looking at her. Why hadn’t she noticed the meaning of this, either?
‘What’s the sling for?’
‘I was on the bridge with her. On the ledge. I fell off, but she caught me.’
Marcus’s face went white. ‘You fell?’
‘She caught me. And Honor caught her. And then the police were there.’ She touched his cheek: he looked frightened to death. ‘We’re all alive. Honor broke her wrist. I dislocated my shoulder and tore some tendons. Lydia’s got a few bruises and scrapes, that’s all. She’s with the consultant now. Talking to her about why she did it.’
‘My God,’ whispered Marcus. He kissed her forehead, her cheek. He stared at her face, as if he couldn’t believe she was there.
What had he been doing all this time they were together?
‘I knew she hadn’t turned up for her exam,’ Marcus was saying, ‘but I didn’t think that she’d … I came right here as soon as I heard.’ He smoothed her hair back. ‘Why did she do it, Jo?’
A nurse walked by. She didn’t pay any attention to Jo and Marcus, but Jo extricated herself gently from Marcus’ arms.
‘She’s broken up with her best friend,’ she said. ‘And she’s being bullied because she’s gay.’
Marcus was still pale. ‘How did I miss this?’
‘I missed it too. She said it was on Facebook.’ Jo took her phone from her pocket and called up Facebook. ‘She’s such a sensible girl that I haven’t checked this for a long time. I should have …’ Lydia’s page came up and Jo gasped. The comments, over and over. Some from children that Jo recognized. Instinctively she went to press the button to get rid of the website but Marcus took the phone gently from her hands. He swore, and dug his own phone out of his pocket and dialled a number.
‘Ahmed?’ he said into it. ‘I need you to go to Lydia Levinson’s Facebook page and take a screenshot of it. Yes, in Year Eleven. There are some comments that are going to be deleted soon and we need to have a record of them. Thanks.’
Jo’s hands were shaking and she was cold. ‘I know those kids. They’re children.’
‘We’ll delete the page,’ Marcus told her. ‘But not till we’ve collected the evidence. Come here.’ He led her to the hard chair, and pulled up another beside it, lacing his fingers with hers on her uninjured side. ‘The school will get involved. Those kids will be punished. I’ll make sure it happens, Jo. I promise you.’
‘She never told me,’ Jo said, and all the tears that had stayed away while she’d been trying to save Lydia, while she’d been in the hospital trying to make sure everything was all right, welled up in her eyes.
Marcus gave her a handkerchief. Because he carried a clean handkerchief in the pocket of his trousers. Because that was the sort of man who made her heart melt, the sort of man who she could fall in love with.
He put his arm around her, being careful not to hurt her shoulder, as she cried. She didn’t let herself cry for long, because her daughter was behind that door and she might come out at any time, with a doctor who had the power to decide whether Lydia was able to come back home or had to be admitted for psychiatric help; a doctor who might not approve of Jo having a younger boyfriend, who might point out that it was bad for Lydia’s mental health. Just two minutes, tops, where the tears flowed from her eyes and she allowed herself to lean against Marcus, hear his breathing and feel the cotton of his shirt, the strong arm embracing her. Then she sat up and wiped her eyes and nose with his handkerchief and folded it. She looked upwards, at the Styrofoam tiles of the ceiling, taking deep breaths to calm herself.
‘It’s my fault,’ said Marcus.
‘What?’
He’d got some colour back, but his hair was messier than usual. He hadn’t shaved. His shirt had a scorch mark near the collar.
‘I should have known. I saw her every day, and those kids too. I saw all of them. I saw her run out of an exam yesterday. I’m her tutor. It’s my job to notice, and I didn’t.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s my job to notice. I’m her mother. I’ve been … too busy.’
‘You’ve got two other children,’ said Marcus. ‘But I’ve been too distracted. Every time I saw Lydia, I couldn’t help thinking about … so I never really pressed her. Never really talked. And then yesterday, when she accused me, I was shocked. I had no idea she knew about us. If I’d been paying more attention—’
‘We shouldn’t have done it. We should have stayed away from each other.’
‘I know. It would have been wiser to wait, maybe.’ He squeezed her hand, and ran his thumb over the back of it.
‘We shouldn’t have done it at all.’
His thumb stilled. ‘Jo?’
‘I can’t do this.’ She swallowed, tasting the tears that she hadn’t yet shed. ‘I can’t be so selfish. I can’t think of myself instead of my children. I was too busy having an affair with you to notice what was happening with Lydia. I can’t do it, Marcus. I have to stop now.’
‘You don’t mean—’
‘It was fun,’ she said firmly, ‘but it has to be over now.’
She attempted a smile.
He took his hand away from hers. ‘It was fun,’ he repeated. ‘After this. All that’s just happened. That’s what you think it’s been between us?’
No, I’m in love with you, and that’s even worse. Because if I’m in love with you, and you’re in love with me, we have to change everything about our lives to be together. And I’ve got enough changes to deal with right now. I have to concentrate on my children.
She nodded. ‘It’s what we were both after, wasn’t it? We knew it couldn’t be anything else.’
Marcus stood up. ‘So why am I here?’
‘Because you’re a nice person? A good neighbour. Lydia’s tutor.’
‘And someone you had fun with.’ He wasn’t disguising the anger in his voice. ‘This is why you haven’t been returning my calls.’
‘I haven’t been returning your calls because I’ve been worrying about Lydia.’
‘So have I.’
‘But you’re—’
‘Not part of your life. A bit of fun. Nothing compared to your first husband, the hero. I get it. I get it loud and clear. I should have been listening before.’ He shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘I’ll be off, then. Ring me if you need anything. I’ll help you in any way I can. But I won’t hold my breath.’
The door of the consulting room opened and the doctor stepped out. ‘Mrs … er … Levinson?’
‘Merrifield,’ said Jo. ‘Yes.’ She stood up, peering past the doctor’s shoulder to where Lydia sat in a chair, her hands clasped between her knees.
Marcus hesitated, and then he turned and left. Jo fought not to glance at him.
Inside the consulting room, Lydia reached her hand out to her mother. Jo sat close to her, in an echo of the pose she’d just sat in with Marcus.
‘I’ve had a good chat with Lydia,’ said the doctor, sitting in her own chair, ‘and I’m satisfied that she knows exactly how serious this attempt was. However, she tells me that she had decided not to go through with it, before the police intervened.’
‘Yes,’ said Jo. She searched Lydia’s face. ‘Yes?’
Lydia nodded.
‘She tells me this is at least partly in response to bullying at school and online.’
‘The school knows about it. They’ve promised to help.’ She felt Lydia scrutinizing her, the same way Jo just had scrutinized Lydia, and she turned to her and smiled. Incredible how she could smile now, here. ‘We’re all going to help. I’m not going to get distracted, Lydia. I’m going to be there.’
‘My experience is that she’ll need significant support at home.’
‘And she’ll get it. You’ll get it, Lydia. Your grandmother and I will give you everything you need. We love you and we want you to come home.’
‘I want to come home,’ said Lydia, and her voice was so small and vulnerable that Jo gathered her up in her arms, ignoring the pain from her shoulder.
‘Nothing,’ she whispered fiercely. ‘Nothing is more important than you.’