There’s a slight pause on the other end of the line and then her mother takes a faltering breath. ‘OK.’
‘I love you, Mum.’
She tries hard not to spill the tea as she carries two mugs through to the living room with shaking hands. Ben is still slumped on the sofa. Phoebe’s mind races, picturing her parents finding her grandmother sprawled unconscious on the bathroom floor. But the expression on Ben’s face means she has to push those thoughts away.
With all her strength, she tries to keep her voice level and steady as she says, ‘I’m here now, Ben. Do you think you might be able to tell me what’s going on?’
His dark eyes flick up towards hers and he sniffs loudly.
‘They closed it. It’s over.’
‘They closed what?’ Phoebe watches him closely. He’s never exhibited any signs of psychosis before, but it’s something she’s always alert to. The word ‘they’ is an alarm bell.They’re watching me. They put something in my food. They told me to do it.
‘I heard a rumour yesterday. Something about cuts. I didn’t want to believe it. But today they told us it’s definite. It’s being scrapped for good.’
‘What’s being scrapped?’
Ben looks up again, his eyes meeting hers. He looks so lost and suddenly much younger than nineteen.
‘The football club. Today was the last session.’
To most people, the closure of a local football group might seem like a small thing. A shame, but not the end of the world. But Phoebe knows that this group has become Ben’s world. She’s seen the difference meeting up with other young people with mental health struggles has made to his confidence and mood. Before he started going to the sessions, he was barely leaving his flat. And now he has job interviews lined up. But with that support network so suddenly ripped from his life, his future suddenly seems precarious.
She’s hit by an intense feeling of failure. It’s her job to look after him. The closure of the football club might not be her fault, but it still feels as though she’s let him down. Just like she’s failed her nan by not being in touch. She recalls her mum’s faltering voice on the phone just now and thinks she has probably let her down too.
‘I’m so sorry. That must be so tough for you. I know how much your football sessions mean to you.’
Ben stares down at his mug of tea. She spots the red patches around the sides of his fingers where he’s been chewing the skin there.
‘I’m going to try to sort this for you. There must be something I can do.’
He looks up then, a glimmer of hope appearing in his eyes, which immediately makes her regret her words. She shouldn’t make promises she can’t keep. But what else is she supposed to do? She knows all too well what happened the last time he lost hope, is reminded of it every time her gaze falls on the scar on his left wrist.
‘Really?’ he says in a tentative voice. ‘Please. I don’t want to go back to how it was before.’
His words make her feel as though he is reaching out and clinging on to her to stay afloat. The trouble is, she suddenly isn’t sure if she’s strong enough to keep them both above water.
CHAPTER 32
Kate consults the small black notebook full of handwritten recipes as she stirs the pan and hums to herself, Rosie happily kicking her arms and legs in the sling. The notebook was a gift from Rosemary, but Kate hasn’t used it in a long time. Either Jay has done the cooking because she’s been too tired or they’ve resorted to ready meals or the one Chinese in the village. But after her conversation with him yesterday, she wanted to do something nice to show that she can look after him, just like he’s been looking after her. Especially after he made space this morning for her to go down to the river again.
After her swim and then the impromptu meet-up with the Tired Mums Club, she arrived home feeling refreshed. When Rosie had spent the next hour cluster feeding, she let herself sink into the sofa and just enjoyed the feeling of her daughter in her arms rather than feeling frustrated. She sang to her, rotating through her limited repertoire of noughties classics.
Now that she’s opened up to both Jay and the women who seemed like strangers at first but now feel like new friends, Kate itches to get real with other people in her life, as though honesty is a new addiction.
She pauses from stirring the pan and reaches for her phone, opening the WhatsApp group with her mum and sister.
Hey Mum, hey Erin. Hope you’re both having good weeks. It feels a while since we last saw each other! I’ve got something to tell you – I’ve started wild swimming! Down by the river here in Farleigh-on-Avon. It’s so beautiful and I’ve met some really nice women. I was wondering if I could tempt you both into the water with me? There’s a café there, so we could get cake after. The weather looks nice over the weekend, so maybe Sunday afternoon?
Erin’s reply comes in quickly.
That sounds great, sis. I haven’t been swimming since last summer! Would be great to go with you xx
Kat smiles, reaching for the pepper grinder and adding a generous sprinkling into the pot where spring vegetables bubble away. She glances again at the recipe for ‘Rosemary’s favourite soup’ and takes the fresh loaf she bought from the deli out of the bread bin, ready to serve alongside the soup with hearty slatherings of butter from the local dairy.
Her phone buzzes on the counter.
Mum:Sorry, girls, but I can’t do this weekend. You have a great swim! Lots of love xx
