The Fallout

‘Liza,’ says Ella. ‘Look who I just bumped into.’ Aha, Sarah thinks. So you do remember. ‘How are you?’ Ella sounds almost sympathetic. Now why would that be, Sarah wonders. Ella and Liza were never close, were they?

‘Oh hi, both of you.’ Liza looks at Sarah – something accusatory in her expression and then, the strangest thing, she spills a bit of her coffee, and drops her phone.

‘Oh God, silly me,’ Liza flusters. ‘So cack-handed today.’ Most unlike Liza, Sarah thinks. It’s almost as if she’s been thrown off balance. Usually, in circumstances like these, Sarah would cast Liza a glance. One that says a multitude of things: I know. I’m sorry, but come on, we can get the gossip. We can find out what the hell she’s been doing all these years. I’ll steer the convo so you don’t have to make any effort. I’ll make it up to you.

‘So how are you?’ asks Ella.

‘I’m well. Thank you. Very well. Nice to see you,’ says Liza. ‘And another little … boy?’

‘Wolf,’ Sarah interjects. ‘Isn’t he gorgeous?’ Liza raises her eyebrows but manages to nod.

Sarah inwardly begs for Liza not to be in one of her narky, don’t-carish moods. She doesn’t have the energy to overcompensate when she’s already trying to be as welcoming as she possibly can.

But then Liza jumps. ‘Shit,’ she says. ‘Sarah, did you see Jack by the way? Is he OK?’

Fuck. Jack. Fuck, shit. Shit. Sarah glances outside, but he’s not to be seen. The wooden post he was climbing earlier is set back behind a tree, out of view from here. If she angled herself correctly she might be able to glimpse him, but it’s too late for that.

She absolutely cannot admit to Liza that she had seen him. That he was higher than he should have been on that bloody post, and that she’d been distracted before she could call out to him. Distracted by Ella Bradby, of all people. She can’t admit that in that moment, in that very moment that she’d seen her, both Liza and her beautiful, well-behaved little son had become totally dispensable.

‘Yes.’ Ella sounds almost bored. She sticks a leg out. ‘Yes, she saw him.’ She pulls out a menu from the wooden holder, her grey eyes scanning the protein shakes section. ‘He’s fine, isn’t he?’ she says, without looking up. Liza looks at Sarah, pointedly. Sarah knows that look. Why the fuck are you letting her answer? But before Sarah can say anything else, she finds her head moving up and down, mouth open, like she’s one of those freaky Mama dolls.

She tries to work out why Ella would have said that. But it’s too late now to do anything else and it saves her the bother of having to admit that she had sort of done her job. But not quite.

Sarah looks at Ella and thinks she catches a tiny wink. Almost imperceptible. A warm glow spreads across her chest. Something to tie them together. She forgets about her shitty work. She forgets about the tug of her womb. She forgets about the way she’s been feeling lately. Restless and edgy. Who gives a damn about marketing an old people’s home after all? She sits up straight, buoyed by these thoughts and the connection with the woman sitting next to her. But then she thinks about those moments outside on the balcony.

The moment when she’d seen Ella Bradby. The moment that she forgot about the promise to her best friend.

She looks over to the window again, desperately trying to quash the memories of everything that Liza had done for her last year when Tom had been away on business in Sydney.

She’d been twenty-eight weeks pregnant when she’d rung Liza and told her she had a ‘bad feeling’ and some pains. Tom had scoffed down the phone when she’d insisted on paying for someone to take Casper whilst she went into the hospital.

‘Fine,’ he’d said. ‘But we can’t keep doing this every time you have a “bad feeling”.’ But then, the silence as the ultrasound technician glided the Doppler over and over the same area on her stomach. ‘Just one more second,’ she’d said, pressing harder. Moving it around a bit more. Nothing. Liza had been her go-to then. Liza had been the one who had gripped her hand during the long, drawn-out labour, as she had given birth to the little girl they’d named Rosie. No. She will not think of that now.

She shifts her focus onto the other parents outside watching their kids. She notices a lady craning her neck over the fence at the back of the playground – undoubtedly looking at the new tennis courts. If Jack is in any danger, she thinks, someone will have spotted it. And he’d probably have clambered down from that post now anyway. He would be under the pirate ship and they’d have twenty clear minutes with Ella Bradby. To make up for all that lost time. She clears her throat and turns to Liza.

‘Yes,’ she says. ‘Yes. He was at the back of the sandpit.’ That much is true at least, she thinks. ‘I waved at him. He’s absolutely fine.’

WhatsApp group: Stuff

Members: Sarah, Camilla

Sarah: Guess who I’ve just spotted at The Vale Club?!

Camilla: Holy shit! Don’t tell me the hottie from SCD? I read that he was there in the Mail yesterday! Couldn’t come up today. Taking Elodie to dentist.

Sarah: Ella Bradby!

Camilla: Oh – yes! Gosh. How was she? Never heard from her again, did we? Did we ever find out why?

Sarah: Didn’t speak to her yet. Still looks the same. Just trying to resist cake. Will try and speak to her later and get the goss.

Camilla: You ok? You looked upset this morning at school drop off. Tried to catch you but didn’t want to get stuck talking to Carmen.

Sarah: Yes. 2WW. I think I’m about to get it though. PMT off the charts.

Camilla: You peed on a stick yet?

Sarah: No. Can’t bring myself to see a neg.

Camilla: Oh I’m sorry, love. I know I’ve offered before but if you want my IVF doc name, just LMK. She’s in Chiswick. Easy.

Sarah: Will you come with me? Just for the registration then I’ll tell Tom. Don’t want to put too much pressure on him just yet. We can go for lunch after? That new restaurant on Turnham Green Terrace?

Camilla: Course. I’ll book the appt. Next Thurs morning ok? When the kids are back at school? I know there won’t be anything wrong by the way but she’ll do all the investigations anyway.

Sarah: Sounds great. Thank you. Thank you so much. X

Camilla: No worries. I’m there for you anytime. X

LIZA

Just as Ella and Sarah start up a new conversation, there’s a piercing scream. It’s not Jack. But somehow, call it maternal instinct, I have a feeling it might be to do with him. I half get up, then sit down. Silly. Don’t pander to anxiety. Of course it’s fine. But by then, people have begun to rush through the café, and my heart is slamming around my chest, the blood rushing to my head. The waiter is coming with our coffee. He’s stopped too and is looking over towards the noise.

Everything has me on edge at the moment. The slightest sound. Someone banging into me. When Cecilia Williams had given me a ‘look’ earlier when I’d bribed Jack to shut up with some crisps, I’d even used the ‘F’ word. I know, I know – I’m not proud of it. It was a shitty thing to do. But not that shitty. And the only reason she doesn’t do such a thing is because she has ten hundred nannies. And, well, Jack just wouldn’t freaking stop. And then I’d given him another whole fistful of crisps in front of her, out of spite.

And anyway, Jack was fine only a few minutes ago. Sarah had said so. And Ella had too.

I start to feel calmer, waiting for things to revert back to normal. But then the entire place goes silent. Sarah keeps flicking her eyes over to the window and Ella – well, Ella keeps clearing her throat and looking down at the menu and I’m thinking, really? What’s the point? You know you aren’t really going to order anything other than that sodding green juice, so why bother? Or is she just calculating how many calories she’s managing to restrain herself from? But then the silence continues and that’s when I can’t hold out any more.

‘Jack,’ I cry. And I swear to God, I swear it, I catch a look between Sarah and Ella. I can’t read it. I would dissect it later but, right now, it’s a look that says: Oh my God. Look at her. Look at the crazy bitch overreacting.

And I think – maybe I am? Maybe I am crazy? All this shit going on in my life, maybe it’s sent me over the edge. I think about how much Sarah knows. If she knew the whole truth, she’d be doing more than just giving Ella a look. Honestly – what had she been thinking bringing her over here? I’d outright told her that I wasn’t interested in being in touch with her again. When I’d seen her earlier in the soft-play, that bad feeling came over me. Why had I pointed her out and put Ella back onto Sarah’s radar again? I wonder what part my subconscious had to play in it all. I’d told myself not to be so silly. That maybe I was projecting. I’m full of bad feelings at the moment, but now she’s here, giving Sarah those looks; maybe I wasn’t so wrong after all. Not only has she brought back associations of everything that happened, but it seems the minute she walked back into our lives, mine and Sarah’s friendship has been immediately thrown slightly off balance – I’d been trying hard enough to keep it steady for a while now, what with Sarah’s moods and the way she takes everything to heart, but now everything feels uncertain.

‘I’m going to see what’s going on.’ I stand up. ‘Sounds like something bad.’ I’m trying to be casual. Acting like I’m just a lame old nosey parker but my voice gives me away. I gesture for Sarah to watch Thea but just as I’m about to walk off, I hear the Tannoy.

‘Mr Blue arriving soon, please keep access clear.’ Now it’s Sarah’s turn to exchange looks with me. She brings a hand up to her mouth.

We know that the club has code announcements for different emergencies. Silly ones like, ‘Can Mr Harry Potter please come to the front desk’ (a child has gone missing) or ‘Can Mr Snape call into reception’ (I’ve got a really difficult customer, please send back-up). But I hadn’t heard this one yet and the speaker doesn’t draw breath before she announces it again. I hear something whisper as it falls to the floor, and I realise I’ve dropped my parka. Before I know it I’m running towards the café but there’s no one there. And then I see a commotion by the playground.

I look around, my head twisting across the space. Then I see him. On the grass. The cricket pitch. How on earth did he get there? The only way to reach the pitch from the playground is if he had climbed over the high fence that was obscured by a tree. But – he wouldn’t have done that. Surely. He wouldn’t be capable? Or maybe he had walked back into the building and out again, via a different exit. But … but … I start to hyperventilate.

‘Get out of the way,’ I scream. ‘What’s wrong? What’s wrong with him? I’m his mother.’

Someone’s opened the gate to the cricket pitch. I run through. No one budges at first. Of course, people always look twice, given how dissimilar we are. But then I push someone, hard.

‘Move,’ I hiss. ‘That’s my son.’ And that seems to do the trick. Everyone moves to one side and there I see his little body, his black hair flattened across his head.

I lean down over him, but I’m breathing and shaking so hard I’m worried I’ll hurt him even more. At first, I can’t discern what’s wrong. His large brown eyes look at me and then to the fence.

‘I saw him. Falling,’ screams a lady. Her hands are by her mouth and she’s trying to swallow but she keeps making this weird, gasping noise.

‘Where’s the ambulance?’ I’m hysterical now. ‘Are there any doctors here? Put a message out.’ I’m trying so hard to be calm but it’s like the breath is being squeezed right out of me.

There are no obvious injuries on him, but something tells me it’s serious. His small chest flutters up and down. He’s still breathing OK. But his eyes look desperate. A small whimper escapes from his mouth.

‘Oh God. My darling. My boy. It’s OK.’ I stroke his head, careful not to press too hard. ‘I love you. I love you so much. You’re going to be OK.’ Another whimper.

I think about picking him up. I shift myself back but then I feel force on my shoulder.

‘Ma’am. Don’t move him.’ I turn my face to see that the paramedics have arrived. I hear the sound of their stiff uniform as they bend down. The quickness of their breath. There’s two of them. A man and a woman. I hold Jack’s small hand for a bit but then the man asks me to step aside.

And then I remember. Thea. But when I turn around, she’s already there. Oh God. Sarah’s at the side of the crowd, holding her in one arm, clutching Ella’s elbow with the other. Both of them white.

‘I’ve got her,’ Sarah mouths, nodding down at Thea, who looks so tiny in her arms. I shut my eyes briefly. I think I’m about to be sick. Everything’s falling apart. And then a voice inside my head. No, that happened already long ago.

One of the paramedics is talking to the woman who said she saw Jack fall. I can’t hear exactly what she’s saying. Part of me doesn’t want to know. Part of me just wants him in safety. But then I hear something about three-point protection. I think about where I’ve heard that phrase before. In an old episode of Grey’s Anatomy. Bile swills around in my stomach.

‘Darling,’ I say. ‘You’re going to be OK. I promise you. OK?’ I think about Sarah and how she’d checked on him only moments before.

Yes, she had told me. Yes. He’s absolutely fine. Sarah. Poor Sarah. I know how bad she’ll be feeling. Thinking that she should have brought him in with her. That she should have stayed with him.

I’ll tell her. After this whole horrendous nightmare is over, I’ll tell her. No one could have done anything different. It was just one of those things, I’ll say. He’ll be fine. He has to be fine.

And then it crosses my mind that I should have been watching him more closely and that I shouldn’t have left it to Sarah. But she’d seen him. It was OK. And then the thought swiftly disappears. I have more urgent things to worry about.

‘Please, God,’ I mutter. ‘I know I’ve failed you many times. But if you are there, please, please help my little boy.’

SARAH

Thea won’t stop screaming. Sarah flings out a load of rubbish from the bottom of the pram that Liza had left – biscuit wrappers, apple cores, old juice cartons, about three crumpled-up boxes of medicine – but she can’t see any pumped milk there, or in the nappy bag. Sarah tries shushing Thea, but her arms keep giving way, what with all the adrenaline. She begins to feel maternally useless, further adding to her anxiety.

‘Please. Shhh. Shhhh. Please. I’m begging you. Be quiet.’ But Thea’s tiny mouth keeps getting wider, lips quivering as her screams reach their peak.

Sarah can no longer hear the ambulance. The blare of the siren had gone on for what felt like hours. She imagines how Liza felt in the back and she can’t stop thinking about Jack. His small face as he’d been stretchered out. Shhhh. Thea. It’s OK. And then she remembers her earlier promise.

I’ll check on Jack. Don’t worry.

She thinks of Liza again with her at the hospital, after her daughter had been stillborn. How her friend had silently been there for her and now she’s repaid her with this.

‘What the hell,’ Sarah turns to Ella. ‘What the hell do we do? You told Liza I’d checked on him. Why did you do that?’

‘You didn’t object. You didn’t speak up. You could have gone back.’ Ella’s speaking so slowly and calmly. As though nothing has just happened. Like she could be talking about her summer holiday plans. Sarah wants nothing more than to slap her. All of the earlier allure has gone. Vanished into blackness.

And then her feelings turn in on themselves. It’s her. This whole situation is all her fault.

Don’t try and defend yourself. Just admit it, says an inner voice. You’ve caused this by dumping your friend – and her son – in the shit. You’ve repaid your friend’s kindness and loyalty, with this. She wonders if it would make it worse, or better, that she had only made a flimsy attempt at checking on him. That she knew full well that Jack had been halfway up that post. She swiftly decides it makes things ten times worse. Or does it? Besides, it’s too late now. She should have said something at the time. It would look too bad if she admitted it now. But before she knows it, she’s opened her mouth.

‘Listen, Ella. Actually, I did check on Jack. Or rather, I saw him. Outside.’

‘You did? Fine,’ says Ella. ‘See? It’s all OK.’ She looks relieved. As though she, too, is off the hook, her grey eyes almost glittering. Didn’t she for one minute think about Jack? She’s not going to get away with this, Sarah decides. If she tells her the whole story, Ella becomes complicit.

‘I did. But.’ Ella’s stopped listening now. She’s pulling a thread from the bottom of her T-shirt with much concentration, like she knows there’s more coming; a petulant child with its hand over their ears. ‘Listen. Are you listening?’

‘Hmmm hmmm.’

‘I saw him up that post.’ Sarah takes a step towards Ella. ‘Did you hear me? I saw him. He was halfway up. It looked like he was coming down. Or at least I thought he might have been. I don’t know … I meant to shout out to him. To get down. But then you …’

‘Me?’ Ella’s chin sets forward. ‘You what? You aren’t actually trying to blame me here, are you?’

Sarah feels the energy around her change into something dangerous. ‘No,’ she takes a step back. ‘No. I just, that’s what happened. Should I tell Liza?’

She thinks she should perhaps relinquish some of the power back to Ella and diffuse the situation before matters get much worse. After all, that’s what Ella wants. Girls like her are all the same, she thinks. Or women. They’re women now. Grown-ups. Oh God. Look at everyone here, playing grown-ups, not knowing what the hell they’re doing most of the time. And now this has happened.

‘No. Don’t say anything. There’s no need. Why did you tell me that?’

‘Because …’

‘Because you wanted me to carry half the burden of guilt? Am I right?’ Sarah gives a half nod. This is the most she’s heard Ella speak in one go.

‘Look, Sarah. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt, it’s that you can’t change things. It won’t help if Liza knows. Will it? It won’t change things. It still happened. It still would have happened. And Liza’s strong.’

Sarah listens intently. Ella’s right. In a way. But she should do the morally correct thing. And how dare Ella presume she knows what’s best for Liza.

‘You don’t know anything about Liza.’ There’s the funny look again. Sarah ignores it. ‘Listen. Ella, I don’t even know why we are having this conversation. We just need to focus here on Jack. On Liza. Making sure they’re both OK. All right? I don’t really care about anything else.’

‘Fine,’ Ella says. ‘But do what I say. Just keep quiet, OK? Things will be much worse if you don’t. You’re just being selfish,’ she carries on. ‘Wanting to take away your own guilt. It doesn’t serve anyone. Least of all Liza. So just stick to your story and all will be fine.’

At the mention of Liza’s name, Sarah pulls out her phone. No new messages. And then she wonders if she should ring Gav.

‘Anyway,’ says Ella. ‘It’s time. We need to get the others.’ Oh God. Casper. Sarah hasn’t even thought about her little boy.

‘You go.’ Sarah turns Thea around so she’s facing outwards. ‘Get Felix. Then get Casper. He’s in the tennis lessons on court three.’ She feels too shaken up to move anywhere. She doesn’t think her legs will carry her just yet. And besides, she needs a few moments alone. ‘If they ask where I am, tell them that it was my friend,’ she motions towards the playground, ‘back there. Password for pick-up is Leo.’ She thinks of Casper’s lion comforter and wants to cry. ‘And after that, the kids can get a snack.’

‘OK.’ Ella walks off, sashaying from side to side. She has that unselfconscious walk of someone totally confident with their own body. Then Sarah wonders why she is even thinking of such a thing at a time like this, and what that says about her. Has she been so conditioned to be so damn … judgemental? Or is her mind just distracting itself from the god-awful thing she’s just done? She rubs her stomach, trying to make the bottomless sensation disappear, but the thought of Jack and Liza’s faces keeps looming in her mind’s eye.

She sits and waits, checking her phone every five seconds. She thinks back to what she’d seen on Ella’s screen, moments before. How she wishes that right about now everything had been different. If only she could relive the last twenty minutes. If things had gone according to plan, she’d be WhatsApping Liza under the table right about now, as they sat drinking coffee.

Just wait until you find out what I’ve got to tell you when she’s gone!

She tells herself that Jack is going to be OK. That he’s alive. But what if things never go back to normal? What if Jack never goes back to normal? What if he never walks again? What would she do then? She clenches her hands together, trying to rid them of the onset of pins and needles. How would Liza and Gav cope? Not just emotionally, but financially too? It would be a daily reminder of what she’d done. All her fault.

Just as she thinks she can’t take the not knowing much longer, Ella arrives back in sight, with Wolf in her arms and Felix and Casper on either side of her. Felix looks like something from a Boden catalogue, all neat and clean blond hair swept to one side. He’s wearing brown leather hi-tops, cream chinos and a sleeveless V-neck jumper over a striped blue shirt. Ridiculous. Casper, by comparison, looks like some sort of urchin child, with ragged tracksuit bottoms on and a black smudge on his chin. She’s lucky enough to have her little boy. She thinks of Rosie. She must make more of an effort. She holds Thea up over her shoulder and opens her arms up to her son, breathing in his smell.

‘Oh God. Casper.’ She doesn’t deserve him. Not after what she’s just done.

‘They’re closing the club early. My tennis teacher said so,’ he says in his matter-of-fact voice, eyebrows disappearing under his blunt-cut fringe. Sarah had hacked at it two days earlier, trying to save money on a professional cut. She’d made him look half-deranged. ‘Where’s Liza, Mummy? Where’s Jack? Liza promised we could have half an hour play.’

‘Jack has had a small …’ Sarah places a fist on her breastbone. ‘He’s going to be …’ she swallows back tears.

‘He fell,’ Ella says. ‘Jack fell. He’s just gone to be checked out. He’ll be OK though. Felix, go with Casper and get some biscuits. Quick. Before they shut the place.’ She presses a ten-pound note into Felix’s hand. Casper runs after him. Sarah watches his legs winding up faster and faster at the thought of a sugar-fix.

‘Jack – he’ll tell her he didn’t see me.’ Sarah turns to Ella. ‘That is if he …’

‘If he what? I think you’re being a bit hysterical about all of this. He’s going to be just fine.’

Sarah fights an uncontrollable urge to hurt her again.

‘How do you know? I was just thinking that if he does – God help us – make it out alive, he could be paralysed. Or something. So tell me, how do you know it’s all going to be OK? You don’t. Too busy looking at your special messages?’

She grabs at Ella’s phone but she snatches it away.

‘Look.’ Sarah starts to cry again. ‘We need to sort this out. I think something really bad has happened to him. If I’d just told him to get down.’ She watches as Ella glances over to where he fell. For a fraction of a second, she bites her lip, before her expression turns to one of impatience, and she throws her hands up in the air.