‘It’s alright, my love, I’ve got you.’ Having whipped her out of the warm water, Remy swaddled her daughter in a huge white bath sheet and, with her safely on her lap, rocked her, using the loo as a makeshift seat.
‘What do you think it is?’ She wanted Midge to give her the answers. It was what he did. Her rock, her guide, her great, great love.
How they had got together, seven years ago now, was still the stuff of all good rom-coms. Remy had not been looking for a relationship. The opposite, in fact, as scars on her face and body were matched by the scars on her heart, carved by her short-lived,disastrous marriage to Jamie. Riven with shame at what she now saw as a lack of sound judgement, it had eroded her confidence, making her doubt her choices to the point when even choosing between coffee and tea had felt like a ridiculous pressure. In the face of her assault, her life had become small, her bedroom tiny, her horizon within reach, all of it wrapped in subdued loneliness. She had, however, resigned herself to it; there were, she knew, far worse lives for her and her daughter than being in a warm, safe environment, where they were both so loved. The memory of Jamie’s damp flat where she felt anything but welcome was there for perfect recall.
Then Midge appeared, took her hand and led her into a wide, open space, a whole other universe where she learned not to berate herself over what had happened with Jamie, understanding that she was reeling from the after-effects of the attack, searching for something, anything that might act as a safety rope. The marine never stopped trying to fill her with confidence, to make her feel loved, and she knew that if she could spend her days with him by her side, she would want for nothing else. It was a peaceful, happy and fulfilling life, based around her little family. Being with him kept her fear at bay, and living a happy life meant she no longer hankered for degrees or to prove herself in any way. It was enough. She had enough.
And it had all started on that day seven years ago, when having finished her shift at a local builders’ merchants, where she inputted data and chased payments in the chaotic office, she had collected Sophie from school, thinking it was any other day. Still living at her parents’ house, she could hear her mum and dad chatting to someone in the sitting room.
‘That’ll be Remy, now!’ She heard her mum and, curious, had poked her head inside the door.
There he was, the nice-faced helper who had given her his jacket. It was only the sight of him that made her remember the jacket. She had no idea what had happened to it but hadn’t seen it since she’d arrived at the hospital. It was shocking, surprising and yet wonderful to see him, remembering how his face, his words, his kindness had provided something good to focus on amid the bewildering chaos of that rotten night. She’d told Tony all about him and he’d teased her lack of nous in getting his number. It had then fallen to her to remind him that she had been a wee bit preoccupied, to put it mildly.
When, eighteen months after the attack, he had finally crawled from his dark hibernation, her beloved Tony had listened intently about the tall man who had appeared from nowhere with his mates, and quite simply saved his life.
‘Like Batman?’ he’d queried.
‘Yes, exactly like Batman. But without the tights.’
Midge had, true to his word, disappeared to the Falkland Islands, and she had all but forgotten about him. In truth, of all the vivid memories of that horrific night, meeting Midge and him giving her his jacket had not ranked highly. She did, however, remember his parting words:See you in a bit, as if confident that he would.
It had been a nice thing to say.
In the intervening years, reeling from her best friend upping sticks and shipping off to Sydney, where his brother lived, concentrating on getting through every day, she had felt the icy grip of solitude. Ashleigh was understandably preoccupied with her business, which was taking off, and Tony moving so far away was a wrench. She felt the loss of him keenly, still did. Not that she blamed him, not a bit. The attack had changed her best friend, as it had her. He lost his sparkle for a while, his confidence too, his ability to hold eye contact, his sense of humour, not that you’dknow it to see him now, flying high! He was a photographer, well known for his stunning portraits, and was deeply and madly in love with his maths teacher beau, Raul. She was so very proud of him and loved him still. Would love him always.
See you in a bit, yes, that was what Midge had said, and there he was as she’d hung her coat on the hook in the hallway, turning the day into something extraordinary, a beginning no less.
He had stood from the sofa, mug in hand, his sharp intake of breath the only clue that he might be a little nervous too. ‘Hello.’
‘If you’ve come for your coat ...’ She smiled.
It was good to see him, really good. He stared at her as if taking her in and it was one of those moments when the world stopped spinning and the planets aligned and she felt the warm spread of possibility trickle through her veins at no more than the proximity of him. Something that felt a lot like desire leapt in the base of her gut and all she could do was laugh, because it was bonkers! Utter madness! This man who had come to her aid when she had needed it most, Batman, no less, was now in her parents’ sitting room and was drinking tea.
‘I remembered what you said, Brett. Church Lane, Broadhaven.’
‘Apparently so.’ She did her best to contain the crackling fire of joy that threatened to burst from her, sparked at no more than the sound of his voice.
‘He’s a Royal Marine!’ her dad chimed.
‘I know, Dad.’ She’d nodded.
‘Muuum! Can I have some crisps?’
He’d looked towards the sound of Sophie in the kitchen, and she half expected him to pop the mug on the table and leg it. But he didn’t, he hadn’t.
‘Yep!’ she called in response.
‘I did say I’d look you up.’ He spoke confidently, as if they weren’t being observed by her parents.
‘That was a long old tour. Did you get lost?’
He laughed then. ‘In a manner of speaking, yes.’ His double blink told her that he too had a story. And she knew right there and then that it was a story she wanted to hear.
‘Muuum!’ Sophie called now from the bedroom. With her hands full, Remy watched through the open bathroom door as Midge ran into the room, grabbed the decoupaged waste paper bin from the floor and held it under Sophie’s mouth as she too was very sick.
Shit ...Her worst fears were realised: this was no Jammy Dodger-fuelled incident.
‘What are we going to do?’ Midge read her mind.
