He scratched his head. ‘Listen to me, talking away as if you’re sitting there listening to me! But y’see what I’m saying, sweetheart? It’s good for me to pop in next door. It keeps me up with what’s going on, and it gives me summat to think about. Moreover, it’s nice for me to look after Eileen of a morning. We have a laugh. We get on really well together, and you know what?’ He gazed directly at his late wife’s photograph. ‘Eileen and Libby make me feel I’m needed, if y’see what I mean?’
While his gaze lingered on her pretty face, his old heart flooded with guilt. ‘I’m really sorry, my lovely. I don’t mean to make you jealous, or hurt your feelings or anything of the kind, but I do love Eileen. Oh, not in the way I loved you. I could never love any woman like I love you.’
He gave a quiet smile. ‘I’m not saying we never argued, because you know very well we did, and there were times when you drove me to distraction.’ He did not want to think badly of her; to him, she would always be his first and only real love. ‘I’ve always loved and adored you, and I always will.’
Pressing two fingers on his lips, he transferred the kiss onto her photograph. ‘The thing is, we none of us know what’s round the corner. Fate can be a giver or a taker. Sometimes she’s kindly, and sometimes she causes terrible pain. Things happen and we’d rather they didn’t – and however desperate we are to change them, we just can’t.’
Returning the photograph to the sideboard, he went across the room, heavy with regrets, and as always, wishing his wife was still there. Sinking into his familiar, cosy armchair, Thomas let his mind wander back over the years.
There had been so many wonderful times which he would not change for the world, but there were other, more recent memories that brought him little comfort. He also had a deep regret that he and his wife had not been blessed with children. And now, he was left to face the future alone.
He had always been a practical man. He believed there was a reason for everything; though for the life of him, there were times when he struggled to fathom what that reason was. Overwhelmed with emotion, he leaned forward in the chair, spread his hands over his face and, frantically rocking back and forth, he began to cry. When the dark memories flooded his mind, the sorrow was more than he could bear. ‘I miss you, my lovely,’ he whispered. ‘And I’m so sorry.’
In that crippling moment, he thought of everything he had suffered since his woman had gone. First, the raw shock of it all. Such pain. Such grief. And then the unending loneliness.
The trauma of losing her would never leave him. Grief and pain he had learned to live with. But the loneliness was the worst punishment of all.
‘YOU’RE LUCKY THE specialist had a cancellation and could fit you in so quickly.’
‘Don’t be afraid to say it, Molly,’ Jack reminded her. ‘He’s a psychiatrist!’
‘Look, Jack! Don’t let’s go through all this again. Just go and see him. For my sake, if not for yours. Neither of us have had a good night’s sleep in ages!’
‘No need to get agitated, Moll. I haven’t said I won’t go and see him!’ Jack wondered what he might be letting himself in for, and he was not looking forward to seeing the psychiatrist. I think you’re over-reacting. I know I’ve kept you awake, but like I said, I’ll move into the spare room. It’s not a problem for me.’
Molly would not hear of it, ‘You’re wrong! It is a problem – for both of us!’ Snatching up the breakfast-plate, she slid it onto the sink-top. ‘I’ve told you before: sleeping in separate bedrooms would be the beginning of the end of our relationship.’
‘Huh! That’s not saying much for our relationship then, is it?’
‘We’re already drifting apart, Jack. I can’t help but wonder how long it will be before I’m out of your life altogether.’
‘That won’t happen. Not if I have anything to do with it.’
‘Look, Jack. I know it isn’t easy for you, but you must go and see him, even if it’s only to talk.’ She paused, recalling all the things he had told her, about the childhood drawings, and the dark images. ‘I don’t see what you see, when you’re dreaming,’ she conceded quietly, ‘but I’ve seen how the nightmares affect you. You have to talk with someone who might be able to help you. This is your chance, Jack,’ she coaxed. ‘What have you got to lose by keeping the appointment?’
When Jack gave no answer, Molly grew angry. ‘For pity’s sake, Jack! What the hell is wrong with you?’
‘You don’t understand.’
‘Then tell me!’
She placed her hands over his in a gesture of reassurance. ‘I’m frightened of losing you, Jack. I’m frightened that if you don’t get professional help, there might be no way back.’
Jack gave a harsh little laugh, ‘That’s a bit dramatic –no way back!’ He knew what she meant, but wouldn’t admit to it.
In truth, there were times when he thought the same. Lately, he found it increasingly difficult to cope.
‘JACK!’
Molly’s raised voice startled him.
‘Will you keep the appointment, or not?’
Collecting his plate and cup, Jack got out of the chair to place them in the sink. ‘Look,’ he explained, ‘if I seem reluctant to go, it’s just that I went through a lot of this stuff when I was a kid.’
He remembered it as if it was yesterday: the long hours in a stuffy room; the questions he found hard to answer; the fruitless tests and meaningless suggestions, and later the snide remarks from the other kids at school.
Afterwards, for a time the nightmares went away, but they soon came back, stronger than ever.
He had promised never to put himself in the hands of strangers again, so he learned to live with his fears. He became clever at putting on a front for his parents and teachers. When the dreams took him, and he woke with the darkness and the images still clinging to him, he would walk the floor of his bedroom until he was able to relax into a kind of shallow sleep. They never knew. And he never told them.
Consequently, the sessions with the child psychologist eventually stopped altogether. But not the dreams and not the darkness, because they were still there, in that other place. The place where his mind took him.
Over the ensuing years, he had hidden his secret well. Until Molly came into his life and began to sleep with him.
‘You win, Sweetheart.’ Walking over to the sink, he put his arms around her. ‘As soon as I get to the office, I’ll talk to the boss and arrange an extra-long lunchtime.’
‘Good! And I’ll do the same.’
‘Why would you do that?’ he asked defensively. ‘To check up on me? To make sure I get there, is that it?’ He did not want her too involved.
Molly protested, ‘No! It’s just so you won’t have to go on your own, that’s all.’
‘But that’s just it,’ Jack told her. ‘I want to go on my own.’
‘No! That’s not right. You need me there.’
‘Molly, listen to me. I prefer to be on my own.’ Sometimes, she was like a dog with a bone. ‘I don’t want to worry about you being there – if I freak out, or anything. You see, once the therapist starts digging into my brain, who knows how I might react? Like I said, I’ve been there before, so I know what I’m talking about.’
‘All the more reason for me to be there for you.’
‘No, Molly