You Let Him In Read online

  ‘He will always be in here, my sweet little boy.’

  I show Daniel a hand to my heart and the tears roll down my face – hard and heavy as the floodgates open. He comes running to me and clings to my leg to show his affection. Daniel can see that I am choked up and it saddens me to watch him try to make this situation better. Especially since he is so young. He shouldn’t have this worry or burden on his shoulders. Nothing can take away the mental pain that I feel day in and day out.

  ‘Mummy will be all right. She’ll have some of her special juice. That will make Mummy better.’

  I take hold of his hand and walk him into the living room after I turn off the oven. Unbeknown to him, my special juice now consists of the white wine in the back of the fridge. It doesn’t ease the pain but it’s helping me to sleep better at night. There’s something about alcohol that shuts off my thinking mechanism while blocking out the grief, albeit it for short periods. But I’m trying to get a handle on it. I’ve got enough problems already.

  The television is already on his favourite cartoon channel and I manage to get him seated on the chair with his beloved teddy bear. I stand by the door and watch how his mind can divert so quickly between the toy and the television. It’s a gift that we leave behind as adults: being able to switch off our concentration on one thing to divert it to another. I wish I could be like that.

  I wish I could switch off from the way I am feeling.

  I know that I have an hour before Gary arrives. By that time, Daniel should have eaten some of his dinner, gone to his bedroom to settle down and eventually fallen asleep. Michael’s wedding ring must be somewhere and I hope that Gary can remember everything in more detail tonight.

  I need closure.

  Twenty-Three

  Gary

  My frustration has calmed down in the time that I have walked from the corner of the street to Jenny’s house. I can’t screw this meeting up. I can’t ruin everything this early in our friendship. I parked my van at the end of the street, a few doors down from Jenny’s house and concealed behind a few trees. It’s far enough away to allow me to compose myself and control my nerves. I want to make a good impression.

  I wish I could learn to control my temper. I’ve reached that stage now with life where I wonder what the point is. No good can come of my actions anymore. I’ve lost everything that was good in my life and what I had left I seem to have destroyed. If my wife hadn’t left me I doubt that I would be feeling this way. I miss her.

  Would I have made the same mistakes?

  I see everything more clearly now. I can’t change what has been done but I can make amends. I can fix this. My brain is working overtime to overcome the battle of Jenny’s resistance. I know that she is desperate to know more about Michael’s wedding ring. I know exactly what she wants to hear. I’ve practised the story over in my head a few times before I left the house. It has to be word perfect. I want to draw her in so that she can spend more time with me. Jenny has made me rethink about my life. She’s also vulnerable and lonely and maybe we could be there for each other in our current despair.

  I knock twice on the front door. I look around to see if anyone is watching me. I spot the neighbour across the road twitching the curtain. I switch instantly into character with a cheerful expression as Jenny opens the door. It’s as if time had slowed down as my eyes try to take all of her in. She looks so different. Her hair is tangled. She hasn’t even brushed it. Jenny’s pale face has patches of dry skin that make me doubt she has washed. Her appearance is so much more unkempt and unattractive than the last time I met her. I was not expecting her to look like she had just gotten out of bed. I thought she would have made more of an effort for me. She knew I was coming over, so why hasn’t she got dressed?

  ‘I’m sorry I’m a little bit early. I thought the traffic would be a lot worse than it is.’ I explain, disappointed. ‘Have I come at a bad time. Should I come back later?’

  I hope Jenny doesn’t think that I am being rude.

  ‘No, now is fine. I’ve put Daniel in his bedroom to bed down and dinner is in the oven. Now is as good a time as any so come on through.’ Jenny says. ‘I’ve made plenty to eat. I hope you’re hungry.’

  I remind myself why I am here without getting too caught up in my emotions. I have no idea how a family could live in such a small house. Mine is a four-bedroom detached property with a garage, study and an annexe in the garden that I once used as a home office. It’s still in the same trashed state from how I left it. Empty and desolate as am I.

  I follow Jenny through to the kitchen. She pulls out a chair and I take my place at the table. If she had been married to me, I could have given her so much more than this. She would have had better.

  ‘Is this where Michael usually sat at the table?’ I ask. You could hear a pin drop as the expression on Jenny’s face dropped. ‘Did you all eat here together as a family quite regularly, or was he too busy?’

  I watch and focus on her face as I see that I have unsettled her emotions. I sit here, staring at her body language with an innocuous smile. When I cause a reaction, I like it that she displays a vulnerability that I feel in control of. She reminds me of my ex-wife in that way too. Jenny is emotional, but defensive. I bet she’s feisty when she gets going.

  ‘Yes, it was. Michael hardly ever cooked but I didn’t mind,’ Jenny replies and I watch her hesitate. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘Just curious because it still feels strange being in his home,’ I reply. ‘I bet he was a great father to Daniel and a loving husband. Those photographs of you around the house as a family – you all look so happy. Family time together is so important.’

  Jenny pauses for a moment but I can see she is thinking. She doesn’t realise the pauses give away her moments of concentration. I’m starting to be able to read her like a book.

  ‘He certainly was. We were a family. A solid, happy family.’

  Jenny turns around to face the window. I can tell she is lying. She should have been honest with me. From her tense body language I can tell she is uncomfortable. Michael was out of the house, working away. This wasn’t a happy marriage.

  Why isn’t she being honest?

  ‘My wife and I always ate at separate times because I worked away from home a lot. I think that was another reason we drifted apart,’ I reply. ‘It’s odd how hindsight changes everything. If I knew before our split what I know now, I would have spent more time with my wife when we were married. Time is precious.’

  The grief has taken its toll on her. I notice how rundown she looks and I’m disappointed because I have made the effort to get smartly dressed in the hope that she was looking forward to seeing me. I don’t see any sign of enthusiasm from her.

  ‘Did you like the flowers I brought over last time?’ I ask, thinking back to when I stole the best bunch from Michael’s memorial spot. ‘I hope you didn’t think it was inappropriate. I wanted to do something nice. To say thank you?’

  Jenny takes two plates from the cupboard, turns and smiles at me.

  ‘No, they were lovely,’ she says. ‘They didn’t last long though. Died in a couple of days.’

  ‘Nothing stays the same forever, does it?’ I respond, watching her pull the lasagne from the oven, ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

  After insisting that I remain seated because she has everything under control, Jenny plates up and slices the garlic bread onto a separate plate.

  ‘What first attracted you to Michael?’ I ask, watching as she serves the hot food. ‘I’ll be honest with you, on first impressions I wouldn’t have placed you two together. No disrespect but you give me the impression that you are home all the time with your son. Did he hold you back?’

  I watch her become uneasy with that question. Due to being such a polite woman, I doubt she has the confidence to put me in my place. I hope it makes her realise that her potential was wasted.

  ‘It’s complicated,’ Jenny explains. ‘Michael wanted what was best for me, for al
l of us. He made some bad choices and I’m slowly finding things out after his death. I mean, he’s still surprising me, put it that way.’

  I want to ask more, but it’s not the time or the place. I’m intrigued by what she knows but I don’t want her to push me away. Now we approach the conversation of the wedding ring. Jenny has half eaten her meal and stopped for a break or completely lost her appetite. Surprisingly I managed to eat more than I thought I could but the bread was too tough.

  ‘I had a flashback earlier,’ I explain as Jenny concentrates on my every word. ‘I remember holding Michael’s hand and I definitely think I felt something like a ridge. I remember it now. It must have been the wedding ring. The more I go over and over it in my head the more I can almost visualise the glint of the metal reflecting in the light. I’m convinced he was wearing it.’

  ‘Can you be absolutely certain, though?’ Jenny asks. ‘I need to know if you are sure. You have no idea what this means to me.’

  ‘I don’t remember physically seeing it,’ I reply and her expression shows the disappointment clearly. ‘I am convinced it was there. I know I felt something, saw something. However, with all the drama, my eyes were focused on his face. I kept telling him to hold on and be strong.’

  ‘Maybe after the funeral, I will go back and look around at the hotel,’ Jenny says, still desperate for answers. ‘We had an argument but I can’t bring myself to believe that Michael would have removed his wedding ring that night.’

  Jenny starts to cry but it’s only a short outburst. I want to reach out to her, hold her hand and have her cry on my shoulder. The more I watch her, the more I want to make things right but there’s nothing I can do to make this any better. Jenny is going to have to face up to the reality one day or another.

  ‘It might turn up eventually,’ I reassure her. ‘I can always help you look for it at the hotel if you want someone there with you. I don’t mind taking you there?’

  ‘Thank you, I appreciate it,’ Jenny replies, and that smile gets me every time. ‘I could use a friend right now. Thanks for listening. Sorry if I am going on a bit. No one seems to care about the ring. Everyone assumes that it was lost, but if he took it off, that’s a sign to me, a sign that he—’

  ‘Don’t say it,’ I interrupt her. ‘It’s ok. I know what you’re saying.’

  Jenny moves her hand towards mine. I don’t hold back and I place it on hers.

  ‘I’m here if you need me, so don’t be embarrassed to ask for anything,’ I explain. ‘I’m only a phone call away, you’ve got my number. I understand what it’s like to feel alone with no support. It’s times like these when you find out who you really can rely on, isn’t it?

  Dinner has come to a natural end with neither of us touching our plates. Jenny listens as I explain how traumatic it was for me to rebuild my life. I connect with her on some levels because I recognise the loneliness and the confusion. The more she discusses Michael’s parents, the more I wonder if they are trying to control her. Donna sounds overbearing and like she is trying to take over with Daniel. Peter comes across as a people pleaser to keep the peace. Neither Peter nor Jenny stand up to Donna by all accounts and she’s used to having her own way.

  ‘There is some help I could use if you are free before the funeral?’ Jenny asks. ‘I have most of Michael’s clothes packed in bags upstairs ready to be taken to some charity shops. Could you help with your van? You don’t have too?’

  ‘Absolutely, like I said, anything at all,’ I reply without any hesitation. I stand up from the table to stretch my legs. ‘How about I load up the van now? It’s only across the road. Now’s as good as any other.’

  I see the hesitancy on her expression as I put her on the spot. Insensitive of me, maybe, yet there is no better time like the present. It proves I do mean it when I say I would do anything for her.

  ‘I don’t know about now. I was thinking more about when the funeral is over. I’ve not packed away everything, I just made a start.’

  I take the keys to my van from my pocket. I stand beside her. I want her to see the best thing she can do now is remove them from the house. They have no purpose here.

  ‘I understand you. I really do. When I removed all of my wife’s clothing that she left behind, it felt like another blow – another reminder that she was not going to be around. It’s going to be difficult no matter what the time of day. Do it now, it makes sense.’

  Jenny nods but says nothing in reply. She walks past me and heads to the stairs. I follow behind her and can hear her son talking away to himself.

  ‘Let me have a look first,’ Jenny says. ‘A few bags of the old stuff wouldn’t hurt. Things he never wore anyway but struggled to let go of. He was a hoarder.’

  I follow Jenny upstairs and stand at the door to her bedroom. I can’t help but stare at the black bags filled with clothes. Some are just spread across the floor, others piled on the mattress. I pick up a couple of bags filled with clothes and I turn the other way. It would be better for her if she got rid of his things so she didn’t have reminders of him anymore.

  ‘You’ll feel better for this in the long run,’ I say, heading down the stairs. ‘The longer you keep them, the harder it will be to let go.’

  Michael’s gone. He’s never going to be around again, never going to sit at the dinner table or ever hold her back any longer.

  I think Jenny and I really are starting to become friends now.

  Twenty-Four

  Donna

  Daniel’s behaviour is changing all the time. I know he is reacting to his mother’s grief. It hurts to think of her as a bad mother but right now we are the only people in Daniel’s life. All this upset is no good for him. I feel responsible as his grandmother, and as Michael’s mother, to do the best I can for him.

  Michael would be appalled by her behaviour.

  We’ve been parked up outside the house since the crack of dawn. Pete is still sitting at the wheel, twiddling his thumbs while I keep waiting for the bedroom curtains to open. I know Jenny will be out of bed soon because Daniel has his breakfast by half-seven like clockwork. There are a few home truths we need to get off our chest before the funeral next week. I hope that she can see we are trying to help her but if the worst came to the worst – I will take Daniel from her and refuse to give him back. I have to be the strong one, for Daniel’s sake.

  ‘I think she’s up and about now,’ Pete says. ‘I can see movement with the curtains. Are you sure we should be doing this?’

  I roll my eyes because I want to remind him that we can’t hold back any longer. This is about our grandson’s welfare. I’m not doing this for him alone. I’m doing this for Michael. He would be devastated to see his son treated this way. Some days I notice Daniel hasn’t even been bathed. I’m surprised the teachers at the school haven’t mentioned anything before either. I’m starting to feel embarrassed to take him there.

  ‘There is never going to be a good time to tell her that she is neglecting his needs,’ I reply. ‘We’re the only two people Daniel can rely on now to speak up for him. Michael isn’t here to do it, is he?’

  Pete takes a sigh while winding up the window on the driver’s side of the car.

  ‘I just think that we should wait until after the funeral,’ Pete says. ‘Losing Michael so suddenly has been difficult for all of us but I don’t want there to be any bad feeling. She could cut us out of Daniel’s life. Think about the potential consequences?’

  ‘Over my dead body,’ I snap. ‘She can’t even face taking him to school.’

  I open the passenger side door and step outside the car. The condensation from my breath in this weather confirms how cold it is this morning. Pete follows behind me as we approach the house. I’m ready for tough conversations but Jenny isn’t in a great position to argue with me. I blame her materialistic tendencies for driving Michael out of the house to work such long hours. She’s about to lose her home if she isn’t careful.

  I knock on the door with Pete by my sid
e; we’re earlier than she is expecting us.

  The door opens after a minute. I can see that Jenny has had another night of very little sleep. The redness in her eyes is a giveaway, it always was. Pete and I follow Jenny into the living room. I close the front door and can see Daniel seated at the table, eating his cereal. He looks at us in the hallway, waving his hand to say hello. My heart melts every time I see him. I can see the resemblance to Michael and remember when he was that age as if it were only yesterday.

  ‘I hope you’re eating all your breakfast,’ I say, walking through to the living room where Pete is already seated, looking nervous. ‘I’ll come and get you in a minute.’

  Jenny is starting to anger me because she has ignored my offer of help. I explained in our last phone call that I could cook some dinners after I return Daniel home some days. I offered to help with the cleaning, shopping, but she took it the wrong way. I wasn’t trying to be controlling, I was offering my support. It’s about time she saw a doctor. This has to be depression. There’s no other explanation I can think of for her appearance and behaviour. She’s barely said a word. I recognise that she is becoming withdrawn. I understand her grief from losing my own father but I also know the importance of carrying on. Even if you feel like getting out of bed is an everyday struggle, you have to fight it because the world doesn’t grind to a halt. Jenny and I used to get on really well but now, there’s a crack in our relationship.

  ‘You might notice, Pete is with me today?’ I say. ‘I hope you don’t mind that we’re a bit earlier than you were expecting?’

  Jenny yawns.

  ‘No, it’s fine,’ she replies. ‘I’ve got him dressed and ready for school and I might pop back to bed when you’re gone. I’ve had no sleep, again.’

  ‘I can tell that,’ I respond. ‘You look dreadful. Have you had any more of your special juice?’