Sherry drew in a sharp breath of her own. She’d guessed he would ask, eventually, it being so obvious that Laura was struggling.
‘I’m not trying to poke my nose in where it’s not wanted, or to upset anyone,’ he went on as she debated how to answer, how much she should tell him, ‘but I’m concerned for her. I want to try and help her, but without the facts …’
‘Yes, I imagine you do,’ Sherry said at length. ‘We all do, but Laura’s so determined she doesn’t need our help.’ She paused, a combination of long-suppressed grief and anger sweeping through her as she recalled how Laura had retreated into herself after the ‘incident’, as her daughter had termed it. Would that it was just that, something that had occurred that had a beginning and an end. It seemed to Sherry that it would never be over, that the nightmare would never end. She’d felt so powerless to help Laura afterwards. The girl had barely spoken, unless to mumble and stammer. Barely ate, staying shut in her room, no matter how much she and Grant had tried to persuade her to come out. When she had finally emerged, it was to tear their world further apart, traumatising them all over again with her nightclubbing, drinking and drug-taking. Sherry had almost been glad when she’d left. She’d soon realised she couldn’t lose contact with her daughter, though, that she would always have to keep tabs on her, know where she was, how she was, what she was doing and thinking.
Taking another breath, she attempted to compose herself. She doubted this young man would be easily fobbed off. ‘You know she sleepwalks?’ she asked, guessing that by now, he would.
‘That’s partly why I’ve called,’ he said, his tone cautious. ‘Also to ask why you two have fallen out so badly. You obviously care about her, or you wouldn’t have sought her out.’
‘I do, very much. I want to be there for her, but …’ She faltered. It was too complicated to explain how impossible it was to be there for Laura when the girl had steadfastly accused her of never being there for her. Sherry had given birth to her at eighteen years old, for goodness’ sake; a dreadfully difficult birth – Laura had been a difficult child since the day she was conceived. Before she’d met Grant, she had worked her fingers to the bone to feed and clothe her daughter and keep a roof over her head when she realised the man she’d stupidly moved in with had only one skill in life: collecting debts to fund his drinking habit. Her days – depressing, dark, lonely days – had been filled with soiled nappies and endless crying, her nights spent on the production line at the biscuit factory. She’d lost her second baby there – she swallowed back the hurt and humiliation fresh in her throat – right there on the factory floor. And Laura had the nerve to say she’d never cared for her? Of course she had. She would always care, if only the stubborn girl would realise it. Could she not understand that she was simply trying to protect her? That she was scared for her? She didn’t know how long she could go on like this, though. She pressed a hand to her badly palpitating chest. The stress really was too much. Her blood pressure was rising so rapidly she was sure she could feel the blood pumping.
‘She seems to be searching for someone,’ the man continued carefully. ‘When she sleepwalks, she appears to be trying to find someone. She had another episode last night. I found her in the garden.’
‘But she doesn’t remember anything?’ Sherry checked.
‘I doubt it,’ he said, sighing tiredly. ‘I haven’t spoken to her yet, she’s still sleeping, but she generally has no recollection whatsoever.’
‘She gets confused,’ she explained. ‘I suspect the sedatives are largely to blame.’
‘Benzodiazepines,’ he confirmed.
‘She’s taken them for years, out of necessity.’ Sherry sighed expansively. ‘They can have side effects, as you may know: confusion, memory problems. Events in her past are skewed, I’m afraid. She imagines certain things happened that didn’t.’
‘I see,’ he said at length.
She doubted he did. ‘We fell out years ago, sadly, Laura having convinced herself that Grant and I were to blame for the tragedy that traumatised us all. She went completely off the rails after that,’ she revealed, wanting to reinforce how muddled Laura was. ‘Drinking, taking drugs. She wouldn’t see me. She even changed her name rather than have anything to do with us. That broke my heart. It was as if she were trying to erase me from her life.’ She paused, needing him to realise what kind of impact that had had on her. ‘It breaks my heart now that she still tortures herself, that she refuses to have any kind of a mother-and-daughter relationship …’ She stopped, her throat catching. ‘I won’t give up, though, Steven,’ she went on resolutely, using his name so that he would know she’d taken him into her confidence. ‘I intend to try and keep in contact with her, even if she’s not that thrilled at the prospect.’
He didn’t reply immediately, plainly processing what she’d told him. Then, ‘What was it, Mrs Caldwell? This tragedy that’s clearly had such a profound effect on all your lives?’
Sherry was silent for a long moment, letting him know how painful this was for her. How selfish it was of her daughter to make her keep reliving it over and over. ‘She’d taken sedatives,’ she said tearfully. ‘On the night it happened. She’d taken more than one, I suspect. She didn’t have anything to do with it, though,’ she added defensively. ‘I’m absolutely sure of it. A mother knows her own daughter, after all. And I suppose it’s natural that she looks for someone to blame. It’s just …’
‘What happened, Sherry?’ he urged her, clearly impatient to know.
‘Her dear little brother,’ she said eventually, her voice cracking. ‘He went missing.’
‘Her …? Your son?’ He sounded astounded. As Sherry had guessed he would be.
Twenty
Sarah
‘Here we go. Home sweet home. You can snuggle into your nice comfy bed now. Much better than my bumpy old car, hey?’ Joe talked softly to Ollie as he carried him from the car to the house.
He’d fallen asleep on the way back from the pub. As he was stuffed full of toad-in-the-hole and fresh strawberry sundae, Sarah wasn’t surprised. She’d only been surprised that Laura hadn’t whipped up some culinary masterpiece for lunch, making sure he was too full to enjoy his evening meal. She’d immediately felt guilty for having thought it. Laura had been nothing but smiles when they’d arrived to pick him up, and full of concern said that he’d had a bad dream early that morning. She’d been worried it might have had something to do with his trip to the zoo – he’d been frightened by one of the bird exhibitions apparently. Sarah had reassured her. He did have bad dreams occasionally, she’d said, possibly because of his overactive imagination. She’d had to work at not sounding pointed.
Going into the hall before Joe, she stepped aside, allowing him to negotiate Ollie carefully through the front door. ‘Straight up?’ he asked, indicating the stairs.
Sarah nodded. He hadn’t brushed his teeth, so she would have to persuade him to the bathroom, but she guessed he was worn out enough to go straight back to sleep. With trips to the zoo and pub meals, his weekend had definitely been a full one. Carrying the overnight bag, she followed Joe up, marvelling at how he pressed his hand protectively over the back of Ollie’s head as he carried him. He might not have children of his own, but his parenting instincts were intuitive. He’d wanted children, he’d confided that much, but would he want to be a father to another man’s child? She was jumping the gun a bit, but assuming they were over the current hiccup and continued to see each other, it was something she had to consider. As would Joe. It would be a huge decision for him, making such a commitment. She’d been concerned about the disruption to Ollie’s life when Steve had announced he was moving in with Laura. She was worrying now whether Joe’s presence might be far more destabilising if he suddenly disappeared from it.