She frantically tried to locate him, her voice got louder and louder. ‘Tom! Tom!’ Desperate tears welled in her eyes. ‘Why isn’t he answering?’ she asked. ‘Why isn’thehere?’
She felt Dan’s hand onherarm.
‘Annabel,’ he said. ‘It’s time toletgo.’
Annabel bolted upright. Gasping for air, the darkness confused her and, in that moment, she couldn’t work out where she was. Her heart raced, so fast that she could feel the blood pumping through her veins, every beat pounding in her ears. Tears streamed down her face, the fear of not being able to find Tom stillwithher.
She tried to control her breathing, forcing herself back to the here and now. ‘It’s not real,’ she said. ‘It’snotreal.’
Annabel managed to compose herself and switched on the bedside lamp, its brightness blinded her for a second. She reached for Tom’s photo off the bedside cabinet and immediately hugged it close to her chest. Finally, her heart rate began tosettle.
Feeling calmer, Annabel checked the clock. It was 4.30 a.m., she knew she should go back to sleep, but after throwing the covers off of herself, she felt too shaken to even try. She didn’t want to risk falling back into the same dream. Except it wasn’t a dream anymore, it was anightmare.
After swinging her feet off the bed, Annabel wondered what it all meant. ‘What’s happening to me, Tom?’ she asked. Waiting for an answer, she hoped against all hope that this time he would appear to answer her questions. She needed him to tell her everything was going to be fine. In the continuing silence, however, her anticipation turned to disappointment. As usual, she was going to have to figure things out forherself.
Annabel grabbed her dressing gown and headed for the bathroom. She turned on the cold tap and began slushing her face with the running water. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, she looked tired, something she supposed understandable at this time of the morning. While examining her features though, she knew it was more than that. It was as if she was losing her grip on the life she’d built for herself. Everything about her seemed to be changing and now she might not even have her dream for comfort. A dream that felt so real, it was the one tangible link she still had to her husband and it scared her to think that that could begonetoo.
She made her way downstairs to the kitchen. After coming to the conclusion that a cup of tea might help, she clicked the kettle on, the sound of the water boiling cutting through the early morning stillness. She wondered how many others out there couldn’t, or didn’t want to sleep either, and stared out of the window, looking for signs of life. Out in the darkness, it didn’t surprise her to find there weren’t any. Everyone else was far toosensible.
Maybe that’s the problem?thought Annabel. Perhaps in her heart of hearts she was sick of being sensible too. Ever since Tom’s death, she’d kept both herself and her memories wrapped up in an invisible wadding of cotton wool. Over time, she acknowledged, a part of her was bound to want to break free. She sighed. If she gave in, where would that leave the part of her that didn’t? Annabel felt a sudden urge to get out into the fresh air, and racing upstairs to get changed, she hastily swapped her night clothes for a pair of jeans and a sweater. She raced back down again, and grabbed her keys, phone, and a jacket, before heading outside. She took a deep breath and, after feeling the cool morning air fill her lungs, she set off down thestreet.
Without a clue as to where she was going, Annabel just walked and walked. After a while, she started to hear refuse collectors in the distance, the stopping and starting of the rubbish truck as it made its way along its route; a sign that soon everyone would be up and about ready to get on with their day. Annabel thought how nice it would be to simply click her fingers and bring everything to a halt, to freeze frame the moment; such thoughts suddenly reminded her of the run up to Tom’s funeral when she really had wanted the world tojuststop.
All those people milling around, she recalled, business as usual, when her life had come crashing down. They had to sense that the world had shifted, to realise something was wrong. They had to see it written all over her gaunt, expressionless face, and in the sadness of her eyes. Yet in reality no one seemed to notice anything, or care for that matter; a fact made more than clear when Rebecca dragged her out to buy a funeraloutfit.
She remembered the numbness she felt, forced to go through the motions of checking dress sizes. They were both on automatic pilot, but rather than see their pain, the shop assistants merely followed them around as if they were a couple of would-be thieves. Of course, red-eyed and distracted, in Annabel’s desperation to just pick something, anything, the two of them could easily have been mistaken for a couple of drug addicts looking to turn a quick buck for their next fix. However, as far as Annabel was concerned, that wasn’t the point. The shop assistants didn’t care beyond what they saw. Noonedid.
A dog barking somewhere interrupted her thoughts. She hadn’t noticed the daylight creeping up on her, or realised how far she’d walked. ‘Maybe you’re listening to me after all,’ she said to her deceased husband. She took in the familiar church spire, it felt nice to think he might have beenguidingher.
While crossing the cark park, Annabel considered the number of times she’d hurried down this footpath. Today though, she felt in no rush. As she begun to leave the land of the living behind, she took the time to listen to the birds and their dawn chorus, to smell the scent of the wild flowers, and admire the hedges. Beginning to see the place in a new light, she soaked up the tranquillity, forced to give the caretakers their due. In her view, to bring such nature to what she’d always considered a very unnatural environment must’ve taken some doing. As Annabel looked around, she spotted a rabbit as it hopped behind a headstone. She could sense the serenity of her surroundings and yes, while it was still a cemetery, for the first time ever she grasped an element of realbeauty.
While sauntering along, she noticed a glint in the grass just ahead and, leaning down for a closer look, picked up a shiny new penny. Annabel looked at it for a second, turning it over in her fingers before putting it in her jacket pocket. Despite not being superstitious, she smiled. It was about time she had her share of good fortune. Even if finding a penny didn’t really bring much in the way of luck, she couldn’t help but think she needed all the assistance shecouldget.
Finally, after approaching Tom’s grave, Annabel sat down, cross legged in the dewy grass. As she tried to put her thoughts into some sort of order, she pulled out her mobile and dialled a number. She listened to the ring tone, waiting for the answerphone message tokickin.
‘Hi, this is Tom,’ said her husband. ‘You’ve probably guessed I can’t pick up the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Oh, and if this is you, Annabel, I love you,Sweetheart.’
She realised that people thought her mad for keeping his phone going all this time, but she was as scared of forgetting Tom’s voice as she was his face. His voicemail recording made her feel like she had a direct line straight to him and on those times when her memories seemed to be fading, it offered proof that their life together really did exist. Sometimes she even left him a message, but that was her little secret. If anyone knew that, then they’d definitely see her asbalmy.
Annabel clicked the phone off and tucked it away in her jacket. ‘Even though I wish to God you were still here, Tom,’ she said, while looking around. ‘I suppose having a dead husband does have its advantages. I mean, how many other wives get to bend their other half’s ear at this time of amorning.’
She pictured him chuckling at her attempt at humour, cheekily yawning as he nodded his head in agreement. In reality, when it came to one of them keeping the other awake they both knew it was usually the other way round. Tom had been the one to prevent her fromsleeping.
The number of times that Annabel sat propped up in bed, bleary eyed, while Tom excitedly chattered on about something or other. He’d talk about the wedding, the perfect life they were going to build, and come the latter days, the success they would make of the shop. Annabel had felt daunted at their starting a business, concerned that if it failed they’d end up skint or worse still, homeless. If anything, it should have been her own worries keeping her awake at night, but they never got a look in thanks to her husband. She smiled, still able to hear him as if it was only yesterday. Oh yes, Tom’s enthusiasm had been enough for both of them and she’d had the lack of sleep toproveit.
‘I do miss you,’ she said, still imagining his face. ‘When I was with you everything felt right. Perfect, in fact.’ She thought about their life together, about how happy they’d been. She thought about his death. ‘Then you had to go and die and ruin it all,’ sheadded.
‘I’m still mad at you, you know. For leaving me,’ she carried on. ‘When it happened, I felt so angry I found it hard to breathe let alone function. And the pain, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I don’t know how I got through it.’ She began to think about her darkest days. ‘I remember standing at the roadside watching the traffic, thinking how easy it would be to just step out so we could be together again. It’s ironic really. The only thing that stopped me from actually doing it was you. I realised how angry you’d be at me for not carrying onwithoutyou.’
She stared at Tom’s headstone and wished it was him looking back at her instead of some cold, stone slab. Then again, she supposed talking to herself did make things easier; it enabled her to be more honest. A bit like in one of those counselling sessions, Annabel considered, where the patient laid on the couch, revealing their inner most thoughts. She’d often wondered why the doctor always seemed to scribble his notes from a chair just out of sight. It was obviously to give the patient the space to open up. She scanned her surroundings. Maybe that’s what Tom was doing withhernow?
She sighed, ready to get back to the matterathand.
‘Anyway, I did what I had to,’ she continued. ‘I got on with it. And I was alright in the end. I had my routine. Get up, go to work, come home, go to bed … . Not what most people would call fun, but I was happy plodding along in my own little world, I could cope with that.’ She paused for a moment to contemplate how long it took to get to that point. ‘Then it was my turn to go and change things. I decided I wantedababy.’
‘Oh I don’t know, maybe things would be fine if I’d found a donor I didn’t actually like. Some womanising, disrespectful oaf of a man, instead of Dan. Katy and Rebecca think I like him a bit too much and, the thing is, I’m scared, Tom. I’m scared they might beright.’
She began tidying his grave, pulling up the tufts in the grass that had sprouted since her lastvisit.
