Who Are You? (22 page)

So she may have put Ben’s life in danger by giving him the laxative.
Oh my God
. But how the hell was she to know? It was supposed to be gentle, vegetable-based, natural – and should have done him no harm. OK, she might have given him a teeny bit more than the recommended dose, but that was just to make it look as though he had a touch of the squits, so that she could reinforce the idea of the Christmas bug and wriggle out of the trip to Scotland. But she couldn’t possibly have guessed that she’d be threatening her beloved Ben with a burst appendix. Poor darling, and all the time his little tummy was getting more and more sore, and he was really quite seriously ill. Because she feels in need of a ‘group hug’ she sends a message to the forum:

My little boy has had to go into hospital, an emergency, because he’s got a suspected burst appendix. I’m so worried I’m beside myself. And in case you’re wondering why I’m not there at his bedside, that’s because my OH told me I wasn’t allowed to go. Why? – because the medical staff might wonder how I got so many bruises. I’ve been told I can visit tomorrow if I put my extra-special make-up party face on. I expect lots of you know what I mean by that. Heavy-duty concealer, out with the BB cream again. The funny thing is he’s usually so careful not to hit me on the face – must be losing his touch. Sorry about the black humour, but sometimes it’s the only way to keep myself from crying. I wonder how I ever got into this life and I can’t see any way out of it. I keep thinking about the other people out there – the normal people – and I guess they just don’t realize how lucky they are. Hugs and hope you’re all having a better day than me.
Posted by Sparrowhawk 27-Dec-13 15.45

*    *    *    *    *

The afternoon is dragging its feet and she doesn’t feel like going downstairs and facing Geraldine, partly because she is now beginning to feel guilty about upsetting her. It’s not her fault that Alex is the way he is. She sees herself in Geraldine – the fear, the inability to escape, the powerlessness to control her life. And now Geraldine has her freedom and her money, and her family to enjoy in her old age. A son she should feel able to be proud of and grateful for, and her precious grandchildren that she can watch blossom and grow, and presumably feel content that the next generation is secure. And Juliet has ruined her happiness, such as it was, she has shattered her belief that everything was all right, and that history was
not
repeating itself through her son. So will Ben turn out like Alex, Juliet wonders, in the same way that Alex has turned into his father? Is it flawed parenting that does the damage, or is it flawed genes? If Geraldine had escaped from her abuser, would Alex have been different? Juliet has to believe that it would have saved him, otherwise how can she change Ben’s destiny? She has no alternative but to get him away from Alex, to break the cycle and save Ben from his father’s malign influence.

She lies on the bed and thinks of all the things she needs to do until eventually the light seeps from the sky and the street lights herald the arrival of evening. Juliet’s limbs are stiffening up as the bruising begins to show, and so she stretches carefully and painfully before getting up and heading downstairs where she finds Geraldine dozing in the armchair beside a dying fire. Her mouth is wide open and there’s a thin line of dribble escaping down her chin. She looks small and vulnerable, and once again Juliet feels guilty at causing her more hurt and worry when she’s already had half a lifetime’s worth. Juliet chucks a couple of small logs onto the fire and Geraldine stirs and opens her eyes. She seems disorientated, and when she focuses on Juliet she thinks she sees a brief look of something akin to fear. ‘I must have dozed off. I hope you don’t mind, I lit the fire. It was getting rather chilly.’

‘Good idea.’ Juliet moves around the room, switching on the lamps, looking out of the window and seeing everyone’s twinkly Christmas tree lights in their windows before she draws the curtains, thinking about the time they are all having in their perfect families. ‘I’ll make us a cup of tea,’ Juliet says, and then returns a few minutes later with tea and a slice of Christmas cake for each of them.

‘Any news?’ Geraldine asks.

‘Alex called. He said they were waiting for blood tests. It just seems incredible to think of Ben there, in hospital, scared and in pain and I can’t be with him.’

‘Alex said you’d had a fall. Couldn’t you say that, if anyone asks?’

‘I’m used to telling those sorts of lies. I expect you were pretty good at it too. The cupboard door, a fall – people must think I’m really clumsy.’

‘I can’t tell you how painful it is for me to see you like this; to know that Alex is capable of doing this to you. He’s my son and I love him, of course, but to know now … that he’s like his father … that you have to go through what I went through.’ Geraldine’s shoulders lift and sink as she takes a sigh that seems likely to burst into a sob at any moment. She shakes her head and puts her hand to her mouth as if she is fighting the urge to vomit. ‘It’s almost too much to take in. I thought he was all right … different, you know. I was so proud of him; but to know that he could do this …’

Juliet feels so badly for Geraldine that she can hear the words forming inside her mind: ‘It’s not that bad … I provoked him … he’s not normally like this … he’ll never do it again …’ All of which would be lies. She sits down on the chair nearest to Geraldine and speaks gently.

‘His experiences on tour, the things he saw, the things he had to deal with … Something’s broken. He’s just not Alex any more.’

Geraldine is nodding. ‘So what are you going to do?’

‘I don’t know – leave, I guess. I don’t think I can do anything else. I’m afraid – and please don’t think I’m being melodramatic, because I’m not – but I’m afraid if I stay he might kill me. I’m also afraid that if I leave he’ll be so angry that he’ll kill me anyway. Christ, Geraldine, I don’t know what to do. It’s as if he barely recognizes me any more. In his mind I seem to have become dehumanized, like this is a war and I’m the enemy.’

She has a momentary flashback to after he’d raped her, to when she’d pleaded with him to come back to her, to look at her, to realize who she was, but he had that dead-eyed stare that showed he wasn’t seeing her at all. Perhaps in his ravaged mind he was getting his own back on that headmaster all those years ago. Another of his wars. Who knows?

‘So I have to get away. And I don’t have any money, and I don’t have anywhere to go.’

‘If there was something I could do to help … to make things better for you all …’

‘I believe I’d be an unfit mother if I let Ben grow up with Alex’s influence, like this. I can’t allow Ben to turn into Alex, in the same way that Alex has turned into his father. I want Ben to grow up happy and unafraid. I don’t want him to have to stand between Alex and me. I don’t want him to have to witness … God forbid, Alex murdering his mother. I can’t think what else to do. Staying here, letting things go on as they are isn’t an option. I mean, just look at me, Geraldine.’

Geraldine coughs, and then Juliet realizes it isn’t a cough at all, but a big, choking sob. ‘Oh my God. What have I done? What have I created? It’s all my fault. I should have done something. I should have left. I thought I was doing the right thing, keeping the family together –’

‘But you were scared. It was too difficult … and you didn’t have access to any money, so you were trapped, like a prisoner … like me.’

Juliet lets her words sink in. She needs to give Geraldine time to think, to feel the guilt and the responsibility. Juliet
needs
Geraldine to come up with the solution all by herself, so that she doesn’t feel that Juliet has coerced her into it; and Geraldine needs to feel that by helping Juliet she is somehow assuaging her own conscience, making amends for all the things that she didn’t do as a mother but that she can now do as a grandmother. Not for Juliet, but for Ben. As the silence lengthens between them, Juliet prays that Alex doesn’t choose to telephone now. Everything hangs on what Geraldine is thinking, and what she chooses to do.

‘You really think that’s the only solution – to leave him?’

‘I can’t think of anything else to do. And it’s not safe to do nothing.’ Juliet thinks that this would be the moment to cry. She needs Geraldine’s sympathy and support. She needs to appear as vulnerable and desperate on the outside as she feels on the inside. She lets her eyes fill and then, as the tears begin to overflow onto her cheeks, she sits on the floor in front of Geraldine’s chair. ‘Will you help us, Geraldine?
All
of us. Will you help save your son and your grandson?’

‘Of course I will. Although – God help me – I feel I’m betraying Alex …’

‘You mustn’t think that. You’re not. You’re helping him, Geraldine. It’s like this is his last chance. And you’re doing it for Ben. You’re breaking the cycle. It’s up to us, Geraldine, it’s up to us women to make it better, to make them better. It will be the kindest thing you’ve ever done for him.’

‘What do you need?’

‘I need somewhere to stay with Ben, while Alex gets himself sorted out. Somewhere he can’t find us until he’s had treatment, when I can be sure he’s better … and safe.’

‘How much money do you need?’

‘Ten thousand pounds.’

‘That much?’

‘I’ll need to place a deposit on a rental property. I’ll need money for a lawyer, to set up the legal process to protect us … And then there’ll be bills to pay. Maybe ten thousand won’t be enough, I don’t know. But just remember that we’re doing this not just for Alex, but for Ben too.’

‘I’ll sort it for you. I just hope you know what you’re doing, Juliet. That this really is the right thing to do. In spite of everything, he’s still my son.’

‘I know,’ Juliet says soothingly. ‘And my husband. We both love him, and we’re doing the right thing. We’re going to ensure that he gets help.’ She takes hold of Geraldine’s hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. ‘We need to try and get the real Alex back. Trust me, Geraldine. It’ll all be OK. Promise.’

*    *    *    *    *

Alex sits in the waiting room, elbows resting on his knees, fists clenched together, the muscles in his forearms stiff with tension. There are other people in the room, but Alex is so deeply buried in his own head that he is unaware of them. At first he was able to do a few essential bits and pieces on his iPhone, but the longer Ben is in surgery, the harder it becomes to focus on anything other than him. His son. Helpless, frail, so young and so small and so vulnerable. He feels empty; so empty it’s as if his innards have been scraped out of him. It is extraordinary how much pain the body can suffer despite the fact that there is no visible, physical injury. But the injury inside – the emotional injury – stays with you always. OK, sometimes it might lie dormant and manageable for a while, and you might even begin to believe that it’s
safely
filed away with no pain memory, like physical pain. But it’s not. It never will be completely healed because it can flare up again without warning, and when it does, it devours you. Alex thinks it’s possible he might have moaned aloud, but when he opens his eyes and looks at the strangers across the room, still wrapped up in themselves, it is clear that his despair remains invisible to the outside world, still locked inside himself. He checks the time. Ben has been in surgery for forty-five minutes. Alex knows something isn’t right. It’s too long … But just as he stands up, not really knowing what he’s going to do, but needing to do something, even if it’s only to pace up and down the corridor, a young woman registrar comes towards him. ‘Mr Miller?’

‘Yes. How is he? Is he all right?’ Alex is reading her face intently. Is she about to give him the worst news of his life? He’s expecting it. His worst nightmare, every sinew in his body is tensed, waiting to hear what she’s going to tell him.

‘He’s fine. He’s in recovery. And he’s sleeping. We’re happy with his progress. Would you like to come and see him?’

Alex stands over the bed. There are tubes and monitors everywhere and Ben looks so very small and defenceless. His blond curls are sticking to his head, but his skin colour looks healthy – far healthier than it did earlier. Alex bends over him and places a light kiss on his forehead. Ben smells of antiseptic and starched linen, and vaguely of vomit. His chest lifts and settles reassuringly; there’s a heart beating soundly, blood flowing through his veins, oxygen feeding his cells. He is alive. Christ! He’s alive!

And yet Alex’s head is feeling all wrong; sick, faint, unfocussed. Ill. He has to get out. ‘Sorry … I have to go …’ he murmurs to the duty nurse as he strides past her. He rushes for the exit, and has to wait while security opens the door for him. Outside it is raining, pissing it down. Alex is wearing just a thin shirt and jeans but he doesn’t feel the biting wind, or the icy temperature. He’s numb. Numb is good. Alex climbs into his car. He fires up the engine and noses onto the road. He drives towards home, but he doesn’t want to go home. He needs somewhere else to go … somewhere where he can breathe … where he can be alone … somewhere quiet. Christ, somewhere he can have some fucking peace. Some rest. Some respite from himself. But he has to take himself with him. He puts his foot down, racing towards the M4, not caring about speed traps or traffic police, not caring about anything other than wanting to get the fuck away from the voices in his head. His father’s voice: ‘You miserable little specimen, you stupid little excuse for a boy.’ Naughty. Bad. Stupid. Useless. Ashamed … yes, that’s it … his father was ashamed of him. Why? Because Alex pleaded with him not to be sent back to school. Aged eleven, Alex actually begged. ‘Please, Daddy, don’t send me back. I hate it …’ And his father telling him: ‘Be a man, face up to it and don’t be a little coward.’ And then when his mother intervened, his father telling him: ‘It’s good for him, character-building. Knock some spine into the snivelling little idiot.’

And sir. Oh yes, sir. ‘Come in here, Miller. I hear you’ve been inattentive in class, Miller. I see your test results are not up to scratch. Not good enough, Miller! Know what I’m going to do to you Miller?’