Page 51 of The Happy Family

‘Can you help me upstairs, please, Dad?’ I ask my father, who is only too happy to oblige, and once he has assisted me onto my bed, I ask him if I can use his laptop.

‘I thought you were resting,’ he says sceptically.

‘I will do. I just need to check something,’ I say, and he reluctantly hands over his laptop, clearly worried that I’m going to spend hours surfing the web instead of sleeping like I should be. But I will rest, just not yet. First, I want to log in to my social media accounts and check my messages. I haven’t been online in such a long time and I’m curious to see who might have got in touch. My best friends have been sure to stay in regular contact with my parents since my coma and I will see them all soon. But what about my other groups of friends, people who might have heard I have been through a hard time and might have reached out to express their concern or extend their sympathies?

Checking my social accounts, I see that I do have several messages to read through. Sure enough, news has travelled that I have been out of action for so long. I can see that all sorts of people from my past, from school friends to parents of my children’s friends, have left messages at varying times over the past year, letting me know that they hope I am okay. It’s very sweet and I appreciate them all. It’s also what I need to remind myself that, beyond my two children and my parents, there are plenty of people who care about me and only want me to do well.

It takes me a while to sift through the messages, but I reply to as many of them as I can before I feel a massive headache coming on, a sure sign that someone recovering from a brain injury should not spend too much time on a computer. But before I close the laptop and then my eyes, I notice a more recent message that is still unread. I don’t recognise the name of the sender, someone called Jack, but I open it to give it a read.

Hi, Sadie. You don’t know me, but I know all about you, and I really think we should talk. I believe you are out of your coma now, which is great news, and I hope your recovery is going well. When you are feeling better, please reply to arrange a meeting. It’s very important. It’s about Luna…

THIRTY-FIVE

LUNA

Our drive home is a peaceful one, or at least as peaceful as it can be with three children in the car with us. Arthur and Ruby are on the backseat, squabbling about something like many siblings do, while in between them, Jude is strapped into his car seat and snoozing away. I’m up front with Reid, my man at the wheel and looking a little tired, so I reach across and take his hand when he uses it to shift the gearstick.

‘I love you,’ I say to him as he stops at a red light.

‘I love you too,’ he replies.

‘Was it weird?’ I have to ask then.

‘Huh?’

‘Seeing Sadie holding our baby?’

‘Erm, no, not really,’ he says, but it could be a lie. Then again, Reid doesn’t tend to lie to me, so I trust him.

‘I’m glad she seems okay with me. I’m glad it’s not as awkward as it could have been.’

‘It’s only like this because you are making such an effort,’ Reid tells me, giving my hand a squeeze. ‘Thank you for that. It’s really making all of our lives easier and that’s what we need now more than ever.’

‘I know,’ I say with a smile before the light turns green and Reid sets up back into motion again.

As we cruise on, Arthur and Ruby still arguing about something, but not being loud enough to disturb Jude, I lean back against my headrest and keep smiling.

I went to see Sadie to ensure that her memory hadn’t returned and now I am more than satisfied that it hasn’t. Unless she was pretending back there, but surely she isn’t as good an actress as that. If she was, she wouldn’t have been just another suburban mum when I met her. She’d have been on the big screen out in Hollywood, scooping Oscars, and there’d have been no way I’d ever have had the chance to steal her life. No, she’s not a good actress, she’s just exactly what she is, which is a sad, lonely woman with a brain injury.

Perfect.

To add further fuel to my confidence that Sadie still has no idea about my threat, I think about how she asked to hold my child. Surely, she wouldn’t have wanted to do that if she hated my guts. That gesture was a big one, showing that she was willing to set aside whatever differences we might have had because some things were bigger than that, like a baby, for example. It’s why I made a similar gesture in not only accepting her request to hold my baby but also handing him over myself.

All is well between Sadie and me.

Peace reigns.

I get what I want.

As always.

I feel nothing could spoil my mood at the moment, not even the two bickering children on the backseat or if Jude happened to wake up hungry and cry. But as a few raindrops start to fall on the windscreen and Reid turns on the wipers, I realise that with everything going on lately, I haven’t had the time to consider the more fun aspects of life. Like a holiday. But now, in the depths of winter and more rain on the way, I have an idea.

‘I was thinking…’ I say, leading into a new conversation with Reid.

‘Oh no. This sounds dangerous,’ he replies, and I laugh at his lame joke.

‘How about we take a holiday soon? Get away from this cold, wet weather and go somewhere sunny? Our first family holiday as a five. What do you think?’