Thirty-Seven
Joe
‘Who were you calling?’ Courtney asked.
His phone still in his hand, Joe glanced towards where she stood in the kitchen doorway, dressed in the shorts and vest top he’d pulled from her dressing table. She’d lost weight, and with her arms wrapped about herself and her complexion chalk white, she looked small and vulnerable. Not the effervescent, confident Courtney he knew. She was trembling. His gut clenched.
What the fuck should he do? He’d cleared her bathroom cabinet, searched all the drawers and cupboards while she’d slept. Looked in every conceivable place, including her handbag. There were no more tablets in the apartment, but … Christ … How could he leave her after physically having to prise the capsules from her mouth? Antidepressants, sleeping tablets; a lethal cocktail. If she’d swallowed them …
A stark image of his little sister lying still and cold on her bed assaulting him, he sucked in a sharp breath. She’d been beautiful, fragile, like a perfect porcelain doll. At first, he’d thought she was sleeping. She wasn’t. Recalling the telltale trickle of fluid on her cheek, her body limp and lifeless as he’d pulled her to him, begging her with his whole heart and soul to please, please wake up, he caught another ragged breath in his chest. She’d been broken inside, so devastated by her first love gone wrong, she couldn’t find a way to go on. Their parents had split years since, their father pissed off God knew where. With their mother struggling to bring them up, Ellie hadn’t felt able to talk to her, while Joe had been too busy with his own life to make time for her. She’d thought she’d had no one.
And now this. History repeating itself. Ghosts coming back to haunt him. Did Courtney realise what it would have done to him to find her …
‘Was it Sarah?’ She cut through his thoughts, her tone resigned, devoid of any of the raw emotion Joe had heard when she’d begged him not to go, asking him to give her another chance, as if he was the be-all and end-all of her world.
‘I can’t do this on my own,’ she’d sobbed as he’d hesitated by the front door, every sinew in his body tense, a voice in his head screaming at him to walk away. ‘Please don’t go, Joe,’ she’d begged. ‘I can’t be alone, not now.’
He had gone. Closing the door behind him, his own emotions raw, he’d walked towards the lift and then stopped, his heart hammering a warning in his chest. There’d been something in her voice, that fatalistic edge he’d heard when he’d brought her back from the hospital. She wouldn’t. Would she?
He’d turned around, his blood pumping as he’d banged back through the front door. She’d been outside on the balcony, sitting on the balustrade. It had taken him a moment to assimilate, to realise she meant it. If she hadn’t found the courage to jump, the tablets she was feeding into her mouth would have ensured she fell to her death.
‘It’s okay, Joe.’ She snatched him back to the present, the dilemma he had now. ‘You can stop tearing yourself apart. It’s not your fault.’
Confused, he glanced again in her direction.
‘It’s my fault, all of it. I’ve been selfish. Stupid beyond belief letting you go. I know it’s too late. That you’ve moved on. It’s just … I’ve been feeling so empty, so lonely. I hoped that maybe … Anyway, I’m sorry.’ Stopping, she dropped her gaze.
Joe moved towards her, but Courtney held up a hand. ‘I’m okay,’ she assured him, a sad smile still curving her mouth. ‘I promise you I’ll be fine. I’d rather we didn’t … you know, hug or anything, though. I can’t promise not to get emotional again if we do that. It’s probably better if you just leave.’
‘Courtney …’ He scanned her face. Her eyes were glassy with tears. Would she be okay? He was far from sure she would be.
‘Sarah’s waiting,’ she reminded him. ‘Go to her. Don’t worry about me.’
Don’t worry about her? Joe had to work at suppressing his disbelief.
‘I rang the doctor’s surgery,’ she said. ‘I’ve made an appointment. I obviously need to talk things through with someone. Meanwhile, I’ve called my friend. She’s coming over for a while. I’ll be fine, honestly.’
Thirty-Eight
Sarah
Hearing Joe at the front door, Sarah felt a rush of relief. Their call had still been connected. He’d obviously heard the commotion. She wasn’t sure what they were to each other any more, but she felt sorely in need of a friend.
‘What happened?’ he asked, coming straight into the lounge, Sherry close behind him.
‘Daddy fell off the ladder,’ Ollie answered, climbing off the sofa, where he’d been practically glued to Steve’s side, and going over to Joe. ‘He broke his head.’
Steve laughed, then winced. ‘It’s not broken, Ollie,’ he assured him. ‘Just a bit dented.’
‘It was bleeding.’ His voice a worried whisper, Ollie slid his hand into Joe’s.
Joe gave it a squeeze. ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine,’ he said, smiling down at the little boy. ‘Your mother’s looking after him.’ Glancing at Sarah, who was trying to persuade Steve to keep the cold compress pressed to his head, he smiled tentatively.
Sarah smiled back and pulled herself up from where she was crouching in front of her stubborn ex. He’d flatly refused to allow them to take him to hospital. She hadn’t been surprised. He’d always tended to brush things off as ‘just a scratch’ or ‘a little bump’ whenever he’d injured himself at work. This was one almighty bump, though. Sarah’s heart had stopped beating when she’d seen him lying so still on the patio.
‘Did you lose consciousness?’ Joe asked, his forehead furrowed in concern as he walked across to him.
Steve glanced up, his expression wary, Sarah noted, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to think about Joe. He wasn’t the only one. Sarah had been confident she knew him, that he wasn’t the kind of man who would mess her around. Now, she wasn’t sure she knew him at all. ‘I don’t know.’ Steve shrugged. ‘If I did, it was only—’
‘Yes, he did,’ she confirmed forcefully. ‘I’ve told him he should go to hospital, but he’s being pig-headed, as usual.’
Steve laughed wryly at that. ‘Don’t change much, do you, Sarah?’ He glanced at her amusedly and then back to Joe. ‘She always was a worrier.’
Joe’s mouth twitched up at the corners, indicating that he concurred with Steve’s view of her, which Sarah might have been peeved about but for the seriousness of the situation. ‘Actually, I think she’s probably right on this occasion,’ he said. ‘You could have concussion. Might be worth getting it checked out.’
‘Not much they can do, though, is there?’ Steve replied, with another casual shrug. ‘I’ve got plenty of paracetamol. I’ll keep an eye on it and get myself there if I need to.’
‘Fair enough.’ Joe nodded, eyeing him thoughtfully. ‘You might do well to get your ladder checked out, though.’