AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I nodded, a gasp of a laugh that might have been a sob.
‘I’ve only been talking to people,’ I said once I’d got it together enough to speak. ‘That’s all I’ve done.’
‘What d’you mean? What else would you have done?’
‘Nothing.’ I took a moment, steadied my breathing. ‘Only there was that girl the other month, stabbed near the Red Admiral. Killed, like, you know. And then that homeless man strangled outside St Michael’s church just a few days later. And I was near both places both times.’
She frowned. ‘I didn’t hear about the homeless man. But what’s any of that got to do with you anyway?’ I heard her shift. Next thing, she was at my side, her arm around my shoulders. ‘Hey, hey. Come on, Rach. Don’t cry. Or do cry, actually. Cry all you want – a few tears never bothered me. But you can’t be worrying about those things. You can’t be taking on the weight of the entire world. You’ve got enough on your plate, love. It’s a tough time, the toughest. Even without the hormones and the bits going south quicker than a swallow on a world cruise.’ She rubbed my back. ‘You have to stop reading the news the way you do. Keeping those stories… it’s only going to make you feel worse, isn’t it? You’re hurting yourself, love.’
‘I know. I know I am, but I can’t help it. It’s something I need to do. I can’t explain it.’ I could; I could explain it perfectly. ‘It’s just… that man, I saw him… on the way to the chippy, and the girl… Joanna, Jo, I spoke to her. I spoke to her that night, Lis. And then later she was stabbed and left for… she… she died. And I have these memory losses. I’ll be on my way home and I’ll get home and I’ll have literally no idea how I got there.’
‘But that’s normal, Rach. Autopilot, that’s all that is. Remember I went to see that hypnotist for stress when Patrick left? That’s the state they put you in. That’s how he explained it – they get you to that disconnected place like when you’re driving your car home, or to somewhere you’ve been a thousand times. You do the gears and all that and you get home but you can’t really remember the actual journey unless you saw something unusual or something happened. Like a road accident. Or a streaker that’s the dead spit of Ryan Gosling.’ She held me tighter to her. ‘That’s all it is, Rach. It happens to everyone.’
‘But what if I’ve done something terrible and I can’t remember? I mean, the blanks… and then there’s these nightmares that wake me up at all hours, and the thinking… imagining I can read people I don’t know.’
‘Youcanread people. I told you that. You’ve always known what’s going on with me – before I know it myself sometimes. That’s just listening to the world, Rach. Seeing people.’ She leaned her head into mine. I could smell her soap, her perfume, her. ‘There is no way you’ll have assaulted some homeless man—’
‘Henry Parker.’
‘Whatever his name is, and even less way you could’ve harmed that young girl.’ She kissed my hair and sat up. A moment later and she was handing me a tissue. ‘Here. Nutjob.’
I blew my nose. ‘Thanks.’
‘I do FaceTime sessions as well, if you’re interested. Fifty quid an hour. And I’m not going anywhere, me, unless I bump into Patrick Swayze in Tesco.’
‘Patrick Swayze’s dead.’
‘Oh aye.’ She wrinkled her nose.
The two of us sat there in silence. There was something she wasn’t saying. I could feel it. When I looked at her finally, I saw it, but whatitwas, I couldn’t tell you in words.
‘What?’ I said.
She bit her bottom lip. ‘Rach. I mean, do you… do you think you might… I don’t know, maybe you need some help, like. Hormones can play havoc – you know that better than anyone.’ She was staring at me. For a second I didn’t know what she was getting at. But then it dawned.
‘But that was years ago,’ I said. ‘And it was a post-natal thing.’
‘I know, but… the change of life is another hormonal thing, isn’t it? It’s a tough one. I mean, we talk about it between us but I don’t know many other women who do. It’s like this big taboo. I mean, when you’re pregnant, you tell your GP and you get put in some sort of system. Healthcare. Check-ups, leaflets, weigh-ins, support groups, what have you. You get a midwife who tells you off for eating too many bacon butties, makes you put your feet higher than your head when your ankles balloon. With the menopause, it’s do you want HRT or don’t you? And if that doesn’t work, it’s just tough, you’re on your own to somehow figure out how to cope with it all.
‘And some women cope better than others. No, that’s not what I mean; I mean some women have it tougher than others and then you’ve got empty nest syndrome combined with kids that still need you and ageing parents or dying parents and you can barely hear yourself think for the sound of the new jowls no one told you you’d get slapping on the laminate floor… and I don’t know about you, but…’ She took a breath, but as funny as she was trying to be, when she spoke again the words came out ragged and her eyes filmed all over again. ‘I’m not sure I know who I am without my girls, you know, and… I can’t even put the radio on in case one of our songs comes on because I know that would finish me, so God only knows how you’re feeling, that’s all I’m saying.’
I shifted away from her, couldn’t meet her eyes. My insides were burning, an all too familiar rage bubbling up in my lungs. ‘Are you saying I’m madder than most people? Because of what happened twenty years ago? That’s what you’re really saying, isn’t it?’
‘Of course not.’ She moved away from me, only an inch, but still.
‘Maybe this is why I’m walking the streets at night. Maybe I’m looking for someone who understands rather than someone who’s ready to ship me off to the nuthouse.’
‘I didn’t say that. Come on, I would never do that. For God’s sake, Rachel, this is me, Lisa.’ She laid her hand on my arm, ducked her head to try and meet my eye. I looked away. ‘Remember Lisa?’ she insisted. ‘Can down a pint in less than ten seconds and fit a whole small pork pie in her mouth for a bet? Come on, I’m only asking if you’re OK. Really OK, I mean. If I don’t ask it, who will? I know you. I know you, Rach. Rach?’
I gave in, looked at her. ‘What?’
‘Don’t be like this. Just tell me, are you OK?’
‘Course I’m bloody not.’ I sighed. ‘I’m a murdering lunatic, our Katie’s a grumpy cow and Mark’s still breathing.’
Half an hour later, Lisa saw me out. It had taken us every minute of that half hour to recover.
‘Don’t worry about Katie,’ she said, leaning on the door frame. ‘Jodi was a beast before she left home. Now that she’s had to wash her own pants for a year and pay for her own food, she sighs when she opens the fridge and saysoh my God, you’ve got sliced ham.Honestly, she’s almost human. And as for Mark, he’s just… he’s tired and feels just as crap as you do.’
