There Is More Light Than Dark

Chapter Fifty Five

Sunday March 20

Avery Prosser knocked on the door of the Sampson house.

Behind her she could hear a car door close and she turned to see an elderly lady carrying a shopping bag inside her gate. Her garden was beautiful but a little overgrown.

She had wanted to do this for some months after Vincent had increasingly cried out in his sleep. Initially she ignored it and was annoyed he would disturb her sleep but then she heard snippets of actual words and she started to listen, and worry. He'd also started to spray a few angry words when he'd had too much to drink and there was something in the way he'd swing his head around and speak with a sharp, percussive streak that unsettled her.

Once, when he'd appeared to wake with a start and sat up sweating and crying she calmed him and he lay back down, but he'd been screaming 'Dad!' and a few minutes later she realised he'd urinated in the bed. Avery was smart and thoughtful, and she went to sleep in the spare room, waking in the morning to the sound of the whir of the washing machine. She told him she'd had a stomach-ache and took the day off work to prove she was unwell. He'd said to her he was keen to make a good start to the week and hence had stripped the bed and put the sheets in the wash already.

She had taken a long time to ask him anything about his night terrors and when she did she was careful and made sure to sit next to him and be cuddling, to ease his approach. Slowly he said a few things but it was vague and dismissive and Avery knew it wasn't the truth. She'd push him just enough to have his night times repeat, hoping beyond hope he would reveal something or be pushed to seek help but she knew he kept her at arm's length.

She didn't know he kept himself at arm's length also, but for confiding in Mason when he appeared.

Peter was another story altogether. On any of the odd occasions they'd met he had scared her; just by being near him she felt frozen.

He'd never said or done anything, in fact he'd never been anything but a perfect gentleman. That bothered her – he was perfect in every way, except that he made her feel like staying close to an exit and that was when she was with Vincent.

She'd felt Vincent stiffen too, the few times they would see him or even talk about him. Not just discomfort but something more primordial; more visceral.

But occasions where they would see him started off rare and, over the few years they'd been together, became basically non-existent.

He would never talk about his Mum. Avery Prosser, even with all her intuition and sweet, comfortable goodness, couldn't coax anything from him at all about her. That was locked and hidden. And she never wanted to be her, but she couldn't help looking like she tried to compete in the eyes of Vincent.

And Mason.

So now here she was, hearing the big front door swing open and she didn't even really know what she was going to say to the man who might help her make his son's path easier and more happy.

'Hello Avery, what a lovely surprise!' His big hand shot out and took Avery's in it; a manly greeting was all he had in him.

Avery felt that immediate discomfort and berated herself internally for doing this – what had she been thinking? The will to help Vincent, that is what. And that had better be enough.

They walked through the entranceway to the huge rear renovation Peter had completed last year some time. Her and Vincent had not been there since that had been started. She glanced down the hallway to the bedrooms and noticed that same door was shut; always shut.