“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine; you make me happy when skies are grey. You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you; please don’t take my sunshine away.”
The softly sung nursery rhyme edged into James’ sleep, pulling him away from the promisingly erotic dream he was having about his new secretary. He surfaced from slumber and sat up in the darkness, wondering what had woken him. His erection strained against his pyjama trousers and disappointment curdled with shame as he recalled the vague pleasurable feeling of the dream Amy Collins pressed against him. Absently, he stroked himself, contemplating the idea of masturbating before he went back to sleep.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine; you make me happy when skies are grey. You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you; please don’t take my sunshine away.”
His erection deflated instantly when he heard the quiet singing coming from upstairs. James climbed out of bed, slipped his dressing gown on and went out into the hallway. Elise’s door was open and the room was in darkness, however he could see her bed was empty. Muttering swear words under his breath he walked, slowly, up to the attic.
Elise was sitting on the floor, near the bloody creepy wooden horse, crooning softly and rocking, slowly. Quietly, James moved across the room so he could see her properly. Her eyes were open, although she didn’t appear to notice him, and her arms were circled as if she was cradling a small child against her. He waved his hand in front of her glassy gaze, but she didn’t even blink. She simply carried on singing and rocking.
The memory of the night Noah had been delivered knifed through him and his knees nearly buckled beneath him. After all the miscarriages Elise had suffered, the blame she’d heaped upon herself and her desperation to have a baby, he had thought that nothing else could ever make him feel completely helpless. However, those hours in a hospital room watching his wife bite her bottom lip to hold in her cries as labour pains wracked her exhausted body and she pushed out a baby that everyone in the room knew was dead, had taught him a new bitter lesson.
That night, when she sat and cradled her stillborn child in her arms; rocking, crooning lullabies and kissing him, had showed James what helpless really meant. There were no words that could offer her any kind of comfort and no embrace warm enough to help her forget what she had been through and what she surely now had to accept she would never have.
In the weeks afterwards he had hoped and believed he would find the words and strength to help them move on, but her grief was like a devastating earthquake that ripped away their weak foundations. He had watched her replay those brief hours, holding her son; deluding herself over and over again into believing that the baby was alive, until James thought she would drive him as mad as she was becoming.
Now, he couldn’t help but recall the fear that had been his constant companion when he had watched his wife sinking into madness with every day that passed.
The doctors had told him she was better. She had promised it was over and that they could start again and leave the past behind, but she had packed her emotional baggage and brought it all with her. He pitied her; however, more and more he found himself resenting her. He wanted to grab hold of her and snap her out of her selfish fugue, but he was afraid he’d shake her until she was limp. The anger that churned inside him was violent and acidic. It shamed, excited and scared him in equal measures. He had no control over it and the realisation of what he was capable of sat in his stomach like a worm eating away at his insides.
She stopped singing, suddenly, and he thought she had woken up, but her eyes were still empty and unseeing. She stood up, completely oblivious to him only a few feet from her, and walked out of the room. He followed behind her, watching her walk downstairs and get back into her bed.
He was losing her again. This time, though, he didn’t know if he wanted to try and save her.
******
The following morning, a few minutes after James had left for work, Ben knocked on the door. He smiled, cheerfully, and accepted Elise’s offer of a quick cup of coffee.
“I have just enough time before I go to work,” he said, following her into the kitchen. “I spoke to my friend about what you told me yesterday and she thinks we should try to communicate with it, as soon as possible.”
Elise raised an eyebrow at him and said, sarcastically, “How do you suggest we do that? Shall we send it an email?” She sighed, wearily, instantly apologetic. “I talked to it once or twice, but it didn’t answer me. I don’t think it’s interested in having a chat, Ben.”
“My friend, Kay, said she could come here if you’d like her to. She has experience, more than us anyway, in this kind of thing.”
Elise pulled a mocking expression and waggled her fingers at him. “Ooh, Ben, do you mean she dabbles in the dark arts?” She laughed, pouring his coffee and passing the mug to him.
Ben ignored her teasing. “She offered to help you, Elise. Shall I say yes, or no?”
She winced at the word ‘help’ and nodded. She knew she was lucky Ben hadn’t laughed at her when she’d told him about the incidents she’d experienced since moving in. She couldn’t afford to alienate him and his friend with stupid jokes that might offend them, or she’d have no one to confide in. It was only Ben’s validation that was stopping her from admitting she might be going mad…again.
“She can’t come here when James is around, though,” Elise said, quietly.
“I guessed that much already. I have a free afternoon on Friday so I’ll pick her up after work and bring her over around at 2ish.” Ben gulped his coffee down in three long swallows and sighed, regretfully. “Thanks, for that Elise, but I really must go.”
She wanted to ask him to stay, but she nodded and smiled easily when she saw him out. The lonely silence that enveloped her seemed starker than usual in his absence. She shouldn’t feel so comfortable with him for she barely knew him, but she suspected that was exactly why she felt no need to raise her emotional drawbridge. He didn’t know her past and he had no preconceptions about her. He took her at face value, instead of analysing everything she said and did; waiting and wondering if she was in her right mind.
She hadn’t realised how much being around James exhausted her, until she’d met Ben. Her honest responses to the man who lived opposite only served to emphasise the distance and the walls between her and James. The constant face off in their Cold War had left her weary and drained. Every slight, every icy silence, every insult they threw at each other were vicious weapons that they used with accurate efficiency. It seemed that since the move to Porth Kerensa the battlefront had only grown more hostile, despite their best intentions.
******
James couldn’t stop his face from flushing red when Amy Collins arrived for work that morning. Her bright smile and cheerful hello tumbled him back into the vague memories he had of holding her in his dream the night before and he mumbled a greeting and carried on checking his emails. The last thing he needed right now was to develop a crush on his pretty secretary. Deep down he knew the only reason she had intruded on his dream was because she wasn’t Elise.
He recalled the look on his wife’s face when he’d found her on the floor of the attic and he shivered. He was losing her again and it scared the shit out of him. When he was alone in the darkness of the night he could fool himself into thinking he would file for divorce, but in the cold light of day he knew he could never walk away and leave her to drown in the memories that tormented her. How could he ever live with himself if he left her when he had promised to love her in sickness and in health? But if he had known what was ahead of them would he have made the promises or would he have turned tail and ran?
******
As a CPS barrister Elise had led a hectic life, especially when she and James eventually began, what turned out to be, gruelling years of trying for and losing so many babies. Some nights she had been so tired she would be asleep before her head hit the pillow. There had been cases to prosecute, hospital appointments for tests to discover why she kept miscarrying and so much disappointment weighing her down.
They hadn’t struggled to conceive their own child during those horrible years, but not one of Elise’s pregnancies lasted longer than nine weeks and when it became apparent they couldn’t go on that way anymore they had made the decision to try IVF using a donor’s sperm and they’d signed up to as many adoption agencies as they could.
It had been harder for Elise to conceive a stranger’s child than her husband’s, and the IVF failed twice, eroding her confidence and faith a little more. They agreed to try one more time and that was when she’d fallen pregnant with Noah.
Elise’s last pregnancy was completely different to the any of the others she had lost and she blossomed throughout it. In the seventh month she took her maternity leave and began to count down to her due date. She had eight weeks to go when she realised one normal Tuesday afternoon that she hadn’t felt the baby move inside her all day and she’d rung James at work to tell him she was going to the drop-in clinic to see the duty midwife. She remembered that her voice had been calm and practical when she told him she was just going for a check-up and there was no need to worry, despite her own inner fear and panic.
She knew before the midwife said a word that the baby had died inside her…exactly the same as all the others before him and Elise had been surprised by how resigned and detached she felt when the realisation washed over her. The midwife had been gentle and kind, telling Elise that they could perform a caesarean if she would prefer, but she had shaken her head and told her that she would like to give birth naturally.
She knew that James had wished she’d chosen the operation and that a part of him resented her for making them go through the labour. She knew he didn’t understand that she needed to feel the agony because the numb dead feeling inside her scared her far more than the pain ever would.
She had been an idiot to think the volcano of grief bubbling inside her needed any help to erupt. She realised much later that the numbness had been a blessing she should have clung to. In the long grief addled days after Noah died she blamed herself; reliving it over and over again, tormenting herself with ‘what ifs’. The madness had descended quickly and she’d lost herself in the darkness.
She had tried to go back to work after her stay in the psyche hospital; however it became apparent very quickly to everyone around her that she was different and that she’d lost more than Noah. Elise had lost her edge. There was no fire in her belly and no passion in her soul. She’d lasted a few weeks before she handed in her resignation and left the career she had once loved.
Now, sitting alone in the dining room of the white house, the day stretched ahead of her and she had no idea how she was going to fill it. She knew she shouldn’t allow herself to slip back into the habit of sitting silently and unmoving, waiting for James to come home and force her back into life. She had to find things to do. She had to keep busy, because reflection and self-torment were a sure-fire path back to the black.
She had told James she planned to make more of her painting and sketching, yet her art things lay untouched still in the shopping bags at the bottom of her wardrobe. There was a whole garden she could dig up and replant, but she couldn’t muster the enthusiasm for anything. She sat at the table and stared ahead of her, unseeing and unblinking, lost in thoughts and memories that battered against her defences like the tides at the base of the cliff.
Elise stood up and looked at herself in the wall mirror above the sideboard. Her green eyes appeared sunken into a thin wan face that was framed by long lank dull hair. She looked like a woman who had given up caring what the years threw at her. She looked nothing like the young girl she had once been. Secure in her present; looking forward to the future she had planned in her mind.
She had been the girl who would become a barrister and eventually a judge; with a big house and a huge loving family surrounding her.
It was all bollocks, she thought, angrily. It was all a crock of utter shit.
She was a woman who had experienced the tearing painful failure of eleven miscarriages. She was a woman who had given birth to one much loved and craved child, knowing that all she would have at the end of it was a brief few hours cradling his cold dead body.
She was a woman who knew what loss really meant.
From the corner of her eye she thought she caught a glimpse of the little boy behind her, but even as she swung around to face him she knew he wouldn’t be there. Every inch of her skin prickled, nervously, as she hurried into the mudroom, grabbed her tools and escaped out of the house.
The anxious feeling didn’t leave her though, even outside. All afternoon, as she moved around the garden, weeding and digging, she felt as if someone was watching her. By the time she heard James’ motorbike roar into the driveway she was wound up tighter than a snare drum. She waited for him to come out say hello, but after ten minutes she stood up, slowly, feeling the sharp knives of winter on the North Cornish coast slice through her.
She watched him moving around in the illuminated kitchen, and she remembered the days when they would cook together, laughing and kissing. For a few seconds she allowed herself the fantasy of going to him and telling him everything she’d seen and heard since they’d moved to the white house. Instead she walked into the house, put her tools away and washed her hands before joining him in the warm kitchen.
“You timed that well,” James said, stirring her tea and handing her the mug. “I can’t be arsed to cook, so I thought we’d order a Chinese?”
Elise nodded and smiled, absently. “How was your day?”
James thought of Amy Collins and his dick twitched. He shifted away from his wife and nodded his head, nonchalantly. “Yeah, it was ok. Everyone seems very nice, which makes it easier to settle in. What did you get up to all day?”
“Not much,” Elise replied, shrugging. “Mostly gardening and the little bit of housework there is.”
“You didn’t do any painting then?”
Was it her imagination or did his expression darken? She turned away from him, hiding her face while she looked for a takeaway menu and lied, “I have got a couple of sketches I’m working on.”
“That’s good.” James smiled and echoed her thoughts from earlier. “I don’t like the idea of you sitting around here with nothing to do; it’s enough to drive someone mad.”
“Quite,” she replied, faintly.
James had the grace to look uncomfortable at his choice of phrase. “Sorry, you know what I meant.” He ran a hand through his thinning brown hair and smiled, slightly. “Can we make this a night with no fighting, El?”
She nodded and returned the smile with one as polite as his. “Why don’t you order our dinner, James? I’m going to have a shower before it gets here.”
He risked a cheeky grin. “Do you want me to come up and wash your back?”
“No, I don’t,” she replied, shortly.
He moved out of her way and she rushed past, awkwardly. He wanted to grab her and kiss her. He wanted to take her upstairs, run the water for both of them and strip her slowly. He wanted to force her to see that he was more than what she’d made him. He turned away and stared at his reflection in the window. He was a balding middle-aged man with sad eyes and wrinkles lining his forehead. That was all Elise saw these days.
She saw a man she knew exactly how to hurt.
******
Elise stood in the hot water, listening to James moving around downstairs. She thought about his flippant offer and her instant dismissal of it. She was surprised he’d even bothered asking. Once upon a time her body had responded to his every touch. Sometimes all he had needed to light the spark between them was a certain look in his eyes and she would be ablaze with desire for him. Now she felt cold as ice.
She remembered the night he had found her asleep on his bed and the small flicker that had tried to take hold before Elise had ruthlessly quenched it. Sex was an expression of love, desire and reconciliation, but it was also bribery and it was a weapon. Elise and James, like every couple, had learned that very early on and they had taken it in turns to wield it. Withholding it had become a punishment that both of them used over the years.
She climbed out of the shower and grabbed her towel, however, as she shook it out, hot sticky blood filled her nostrils with its coppery scent, clung to her hands and dripped on the floor. Elise dropped the towel with a scream and backed away from it, trembling and confused. The vivid red liquid began to pool out of the drenched material into a growing puddle on the floor. Tears poured down her face and she covered her eyes with her arm, like a chastised five year old trying not to be seen.
James banged on the bathroom door, making her jump and she screamed again. He didn’t wait for her to answer him and he barged into the room, looking around wildly for whatever had made her cry out.
He turned to look at her, shivering naked in the corner of the room and he bent down to pick up the towel from the floor. “What’s the matter, Elise? What’s going on?”
“So much blood,” she stuttered, still hiding behind her arm. “I don’t know where it came from, but I got it on my hands.”
She held her hands out towards him, wringing them, and he glared at her, puzzled, before unfolding the crumpled towel. He frowned and thrust it at her. “Is this some kind of sick joke, Elise?”
She opened her eyes and stared down at her hands. There was nothing on them and the towel that had been soaked with blood was now bone dry with faded coppery stains on it. He threw it at her and his entire body visibly bristled with anger as he stepped closer to her. “Why, on earth, would you be so cruel, Elise? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
The realisation that she had imagined the entire thing washed over, flooding her with relief and humiliation. She held the towel in front of her and stood with her head bent as hot tears dripped onto her naked chest. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, mortified.
“Dinner is here,” he replied, stiffly. He whirled away from her and stalked out of the room. He was furious with her for reminding him of the day he’d discovered her on the floor with her wrists slashed open. However he suspected the anger he felt was because he’d also remembered the brief seconds that he had imagined what his life would like if he left the house and pretended he hadn’t found her covered in blood.
He was frostily polite when she came downstairs five minutes later. He had dished up their food and he sat watching Eastenders and eating his dinner. Elise took her plate and sat at the other end of the sofa. After a few minutes she said, “I’m sorry, James, my imagination ran away from me.”
His voice was cold when he said, “It has a habit of doing that. I thought all those months in hospital were supposed to help you control it.”
“I wish I knew what to say that could make everything better,” she murmured, apologetically.
James felt the rage settle on him, as if someone had draped a cloak of anger around him. Without warning, he hurled his plate of food across the room and she watched in stunned silence as it crashed against the window and splattered across the floor.
“Nothing you can say will make it better, Elise. There are no words to take away the memory of finding you on the bathroom floor with your wrists slashed open and blood pissing out of you. You’re a fucking fool if you think there are.”
Elise hardly dared to move when he stood up and she wondered if he was going to hit her, but he paced over to the window. “I don’t even know why you kept the sodding towel. Why would you want something that reminds either of us of that day? There’s something wrong with you, Elise. I think you came out of hospital too soon; in fact I can’t help but wonder if you should have come back at all.”
He left the room, abruptly; clattering down the stairs with barely a glance in her direction. She sat, trembling, as she listened to him bang around downstairs and a few minutes later the slam of the front door echoing through the house and his motorbike roaring away into the distance.
With snot and tears running down her face she cleaned up the mess and threw away their dinner. She left the porch light on and locked up before going to bed. But she lay awake for a long time, listening and waiting for him to come home, wondering if she could ever find the words to heal them.