‘How is he?’
I blew out a sigh into my tea. ‘He’s a little better. Still a really long way to go, but he’s getting there.’
I hoped. Oh, how I hoped he would get there.
‘Have you seen him?’ April asked.
‘Only once, for an hour. We’ve spoken a couple of times on the phone. Too much outside interaction can disrupt things. There’ll be more opportunity to visit as he gets stronger.’
She kept her eyes down, voice hesitant.
‘Did he mention me?’
I took another sip, taking a moment to form an answer. ‘You remember how he was, before he went in?’
She nodded.
‘In his head, it’s like full-blown panic mode, every second of the day. He’s having to scramble to survive, only the danger is in his head, so he can never get away from or deal with it. He didn’t mention you, April. But I was sat in front of him for an hour and he didn’t mention me, either.’
‘Is he angry with me?’ she whispered. ‘For letting him get so bad? Does he think it’s my fault?’
‘Look at me.’ Slowly, she lifted her head, eyes skittering all over the place. ‘Right now, he’s ill. You couldn’t have stopped that. I couldn’t have stopped that. He couldn’t have, either. It’s no one’s fault. Okay?’
‘Okay.’
We drank our tea for a few more moments.
‘You love him, don’t you?’
She nodded, her mouth twisted.
‘You know it might not be enough? It’s going to be a long time before he can focus on anyone apart from himself. Even if he loves you, it doesn’t mean you can make it work.’
‘I know that. But it doesn’t mean I’m not going to try.’
We took our mugs into the kitchen, finding a tiny space to squeeze them onto near the sink before getting to work in the conservatory.
A while later, as we carried a broken futon out to the skip, I watched April’s determined face, and considered how hard she’d worked all morning. How hard she’d worked since September. I looked around at the Sort and Clean teams, beavering away in secret because Marilyn hated to ask for help, had tried to carry her struggles alone. I made a decision not to keep trying to carry my load alone. It wasn’t heroic. It was stupid. Maybe I could let some of my Sam junk go.
‘I can ask if they’ll let you visit, if you like.’
She stopped, nearly tripping over a plant pot as the momentum from the futon pushed her backwards.
‘Are you sure?’
‘They might not agree. Sam might not agree. But I can ask.’
‘Thank you.’
I couldn’t bring myself to say, ‘You’re welcome,’ but I’d made the offer. Made a start.
16
By one o’clock, we were starving and there were still mountains of work to be done. I rummaged around the kitchen, finding a sack of potatoes in the pantry and a tray of eggs.
Twenty minutes later, we had Spanish omelette, flavoured with red onion, chives and parsley fresh from the garden and a frugal layer of parmesan cheese. Having sent April out to buy a couple of loaves of crusty bread, I added some tomato salsa and finished off with a coconut cake thrown together from Marilyn’s amply stocked baking cupboard.
‘This is well good,’ Rowan said, through a mouthful of egg, perched on a cardboard box in the living room. ‘How did you cook for all of us that quick?’
