Chapter Fifty-Two
Jennifer
Nessa has suggested Ed and I go for a walk together, giving me a wink that said she knew exactly what my hair treatment and red lips meant I was after. Ed is grumpy: I’m not surprised; I suppose I’d be grumpy if the roles were reversed and he was the one who was psychotic. I Googled it last week: ‘Psychosis is a mental health issue that can cause patients to interpret things around them differently from others. This can be through hallucinations or delusions.’ See? Psychotic.
I finish the strawberry ice cream that Ed has just bought me, and we walk hand in hand as we approach The Nook. The Nook is a part of the park that is hidden almost, an overgrown archway leading into a small square courtyard. Off to the right, through another barely visible archway, is a hidden garden. The kids think it’s magical; we told them it’s not even visible to other people and there is some truth in that, you could almost miss it. We duck beneath the ivy that hangs down and almost obscures the small patch of mossy grass. Trees arch over the hidden space protectively, the leaves hanging beneath a pentagram of sky. Fragments of sunlight skittering through, giggling in quiet whispers as they dance and court the silver of the birch tree trunks. We lie back – hand in hand – in the centre of the grass. The ground beneath us is mossy and warm and I feel it yield against me, cushioning my frame. Kerry has left; it’s just the two of us. The tablets have relaxed me: my breathing is deep and calm, my skin tingles and fizzes. The Nook is working its magic.
‘Is she here?’ Ed’s breathing is quicker than mine, his body tense, his limbs balancing on the moss rather than sinking into it. I prop myself up on my elbow and look down at him, brushing a stray piece of hair away from his forehead.
‘No.’
‘Are the tablets working?’
Kerry – shaking and pale – in the bed next to me last night, shimmers, the image just out of reach, like a dream that you try to remember.
‘I think so.’ I lower my lips and kiss him. His taste and the softness of his lips swallows me; I lower myself into the moment, the magic of The Nook, the fire inside, the fizzing of my skin . . . I wonder if this is what heaven feels like.
‘Is this heaven, do you think?’ I question against his mouth, my hands slipping beneath his shirt, my leg hooking over his. I feel so alive . . . is that what heaven is, feeling more alive than when you were living?
His hand reaches for mine but holds it firm. ‘Stop, Jen. We need to get back to the kids.’
‘The kids are fine, they’re with—’
‘The kids are not fine, Jen.’ He looks up at me, concerned. ‘Is that what you think?’
His words fire like bullets, each one shattering part of the scene, pulling back the curtain. The ivy loses its luscious greens and instead is ropy and framed by nettles. The moss-like grass feels hard; patches of it are sunburnt yellow and are dry and itchy across the back of my legs.
‘I’m getting better, Ed. I promise I will get better, she’s hardly here at all any more.’ I try to kiss him again. I want that feeling, to be loved and cherished by my husband. I lean over him, letting my hand glide down his body towards his flies.
‘Jen, please . . . stop. We can’t.’
‘Shush, there’s nobody around,’ I giggle. His hands hold mine firmly, though.
‘It’s not that. You’re not well and I—’
‘I feel fine.’ I straddle him and go in for another kiss, but his head turns from me. This startles me and I sit back in shock. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Nothing, I just, I . . .’
I lift my legs off his and face him. My skin still holds the fizz, but it’s more than the gentle popping of lemonade in a bottle; my skin feels the sting of electric, the burn as it slices through the hairs on my arms.
‘You’re not well and I’d feel like I’m taking—’
‘Advantage of me?’ The words tumble from my mouth, the hurt behind them sending my body reeling, The Nook suddenly cold and dark.
‘Yes. NO. It’s not like that, you, you’re, you’re acting differently, it would be like I’m being unfaithful.’
‘Unfaithful?’ My voice is tinged with disbelief. ‘To whom? The woman who washes your clothes and cleans your house? The woman who picks out furniture and irons tea towels? That woman? Is that who you’re being unfaithful to, Ed? Is that who you’re missing?’ I can hear the hysteria in my voice as I stand up.
Kerry is leaning back against the tree like she hasn’t a care in the world. ‘Go easy on him.’
‘You’re just as much to blame for this,’ I tell her; I don’t even try to hide her from Ed.
‘He’s trying his best.’
‘Oh, shut up! You’re not even here!’
‘The devil convinced the world he didn’t exist . . . it was his greatest trick.’
‘You’ve never even watched The Usual Suspects,’ I reply from under my breath.
I should have died. The words float around my head, but I grab hold of them.
‘You should have let me die!’ My anger sends the dancing light scurrying away, hiding in the shadows and cooling the air. ‘I’m supposed to be dead.’ The light ducks its face around the corners of the shadows.
‘What?’ Kerry asks, looking affronted. ‘I saved you. I saved you and look at you . . . Look at how you’re behaving!’
A family have found their way into The Nook and are making a hasty retreat back through the archway.
‘It’s because of you that I’m shouting at thin air!’
‘Stop it, Jen, take a breath,’ Kerry says.
‘Stop telling me what to do!’ I bend down and rummage into my handbag, pop open the pill bottle, fire two to the back of my throat and swallow.
Kerry holds her stomach and raises an arm to the sky dramatically, falling to the floor like the Wicked Witch of the West. ‘I’m melllllttttting!’
I raise my eyebrows at her and bite my tongue as she sinks. At least I know she’s seen The Wizard of Oz . . . we loved it when we were little.
She breathes deeply and smiles up at me. My anger dissipates. I know what she’s doing, she’s goading me into taking the pills just like she would when we were kids and I didn’t want to do something. I take a step towards her, an apology on my lips. But Ed is behind me and is pulling my hand back towards him. I look away from Kerry and meet the worry in his eyes. I return my concentration to where Kerry was lying, but she has gone.
‘Let’s go back home.’ Ed avoids my eyes and picks up our things from the floor.
‘Home?’ I question; my thoughts are becoming muggy, warm and sticky.
‘Back to your parents.’
I shake my head. ‘No. I want to go back to Nessa’s . . . she’s the only one who doesn’t make me feel like I’m insane.’
‘I didn’t mean to make you feel like you’re insane.’
‘I know.’ I gulp down the rest of the sentence: you may not have wanted to, Ed, but you did.
‘You OK?’ Nessa asks.
I flash a glance in Ed’s direction and bite my lip. He’s apologised over and over on the way back. But I can’t seem to forget the way he turned away from me as I tried to kiss him, how he didn’t want to ‘take advantage’.