Amy was discharged from the hospital the day after Alex had stormed out of her room. He hadn’t come back.
He will come back, she thought, as the nurses helped her dress, manoeuvring her aching limbs into her clothes; as they put her things together; as her dad hefted her backpack over his shoulder, and her mum linked arms with her; as they thanked the medical staff and headed slowly towards the exit. She looked around for him in the car park, at the sides of the road as the taxi journeyed along, in the cavernous airport check-in area, before the milling people made her feel faint and she had to sit down. But it seemed he had abandoned her. And by the time the plane lifted into the air her upset had turned to numb dismay, and she wasn’t sure if she had ever really known him at all.
52
Christmas had been going so well. Chloe’s mother had put out the turkey and a raft of vegetables with a flourish, and the four of them had delved in.
Charlie poured them all sparkling wine.
‘Cheers,’ Chloe said, lifting her glass and looking round at them.
They all echoed her, and then Anthony had given Chloe a searching look. With a sinking heart she realised what was coming, but before she could do more than give a swift shake of her head, he had continued, ‘I have an announcement to make.’
‘Oh?’ Margaret spoke for them all, sounding intrigued.
‘I’ve put my course on hold, and I’m moving to America!’ Anthony grinned.
There was silence.
Then, ‘How nice for you,’ Margaret murmured, stabbing her fork into a sprout and jabbing it into her mouth.
‘What?’ Anthony said, half-laughing, looking round at them all.
Charlie looked irritated, even though he had made it a rule never to get involved in disputes with Margaret’s children. Life was easier that way.
Chloe kept her head down.
Margaret was not to be mollified, however, and after a pause said, ‘Anthony, do you think we don’t know why you’re going to America?’
‘Mum, I really regret not having a gap year, and Tommy is over there at the moment working, so it’s free digs – the chance of a lifetime. I’m so lucky having a US passport, and I want to see the world while I’m young.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ Margaret retorted.
‘What?’
‘You’re going to find your father.’
‘Well, I might make some enquiries while I’m over there. What’s the harm, Mum, honestly? You’ve had me completely to yourself so far, you can hardly begrudge sharing a bit now.’
And then, to everyone’s surprise, Charlie stood up, knocking his chair back as he did so.
‘You ungrateful little tyke,’ he said. ‘Your mum had bloody good reasons for leaving that man, and you should be thanking her every day, not making her life a bloody misery -’
‘Charlie…’ Margaret put out a hand to try to calm him.
‘No, Mum, it’s okay,’ Anthony said, glaring at Charlie. ‘I think I should leave.’ And he pushed back his chair roughly, scraping it against the floor tiles, then stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Margaret immediately burst into tears and went into a torrent of speech, with Charlie trying to soothe her. Chloe sighed, looked at her still-full plate of delicious food, and slowly got up to find her brother.
Anthony was in his room, angrily throwing things into a bag.
‘I can’t believe you,’ he hissed when he saw her at the door.
‘What?!’
‘Just sitting there. Can’t you have an opinion? He’s your dad too.’
Chloe was incensed. ‘I do have an opinion. I agree with Mum. I TRUST Mum.’
Anthony gave a bitter laugh and shook his head. ‘Well, thanks a lot. I see that becoming a lawyer has made you able to see only one side of the story.’
‘Ant, you’re behaving like a little boy.’
‘Oh, and you’re so grown up, aren’t you, you snooty bitch.’
‘Ant! For god’s sake.’
Anthony pushed past her. ‘Don’t worry, I’m leaving.’ He ran down the stairs, calling out a sarcastic ‘Happy Christmas’ behind him, then was out the front door. Chloe heard his car rev up and spin away down the drive a moment later.
She went downstairs to find Charlie and Margaret eating silently, Margaret’s face streaked with tears. Chloe tucked mechanically into her own meal, now tepid and unappetising. She didn’t know what to say to either of them, and so the only sound to accompany their Christmas lunch was the ticking of the cuckoo clock on the wall, and the distant sounds of carols coming from Charlie’s permanently playing TV in the next room.
53
It had been a long week since Alex had got home. Christmas had passed excruciatingly slowly, his parents and Jamie tiptoeing around him, realising something was wrong but not knowing exactly what. Until tonight.
His mother found him alone in the kitchen, snacking on biscuits after the others had gone to bed. She sat down next to him.
‘Alex?’ she began, reaching for his hand.
He wanted to snatch it back, but didn’t want to hurt her, and although his hand felt uncomfortable on the table he focused his energies on keeping it there.
‘What’s happened?’ she asked gently.
The indefinable soothing quality in his mother’s voice broke him, and he began to sob softly into his hands.
‘Oh my darling,’ his mother crooned, moving her chair next to his, and pulling him into her body to cradle his head against her as though he were just a small child.
The whole story tumbled out. By the end of it, Alex was pacing the kitchen, and his mother was watching him, horrified, tears in her own eyes.
‘Oh, Alex, why on earth have you kept this to yourself for so long?’
‘I didn’t want to burden you.’
As he said it he found that was partly it, but perhaps it was also that he had thought he could hide from it by not telling people. How ridiculous that suddenly seemed.
‘Alex, that’s crazy, we’re your family. We’re here to share your load; to help you.’
It was as though she knew what he was thinking – that he never wanted to see her crushed again like she was after the onset of Jamie’s schizophrenia. He wanted to protect her.
‘We go through good and bad
‘I know.’ Alex sat down, feeling an enormous sense of relief at finally being able to talk things through with someone. He ran his hands across his face to try to stave off the exhaustion that seemed to hit him like a blow. He looked at his mother. ‘So, what should I do?’
Alex’s father was waiting by the door the next morning. He had told his mother he would get the train, but she’d insisted that his dad drive him, and wouldn’t brook any argument. He had given in, even though he wasn’t sure what he and his father would find to talk about on the long drive.
