‘What reason did he give?’ he asks, his voice now hovering on the edge of kindness but still masking irritation. He bends down to look at me, but his staring eyes make my skin crawl and throw me off balance.
‘He didn’t give a reason.’
I know by Damien’s reaction that this is the wrong thing to say. He turns almost beetroot, the words flying out of his mouth. ‘Oh, well, the geezer will give a reason,’ he bellows down my ear, while physically turning me around and pushing me back into the office, his brief second of remorse evaporating along with my self-respect.
As I’m manhandled back inside, all the other staff members look up, their expressions trying but failing to disguise their excitement at this new bit of drama.
‘Right. Phone him back now! Nobody wastes an hour of my time and gets away with it… Oh, and Lana?’ I look up to face him. ‘Sort your face out. It’s gone the colour of boiled shite!’
Not wanting to anger Damien further, I quickly press Redial, while wiping away the unshed tears from my eyes. He doesn’t go away; instead, he hangs over me like a dose of herpes. I silently pray that he will leave me alone but my prayer goes unanswered. As the phone starts to ring, I can’t decide if I want Liam to answer.
‘Hello, Lana.’
Hearing Liam’s voice, I feel instantly better. He sounds apologetic. With Damien looking over me, I decide to go straight in.
‘Hi, Liam. I have to phone back to see why you don’t want the holiday.’
I almost laugh at this ridiculous question in this bizarre situation, but I know that wouldn’t be appropriate in front of Damien. Liam seems to understand my predicament as he lets out a tiny, light-hearted sigh. ‘Tell your boss I’ll buy one.’
Damien, having heard Liam’s words, smacks me on the back. ‘See, Lana, you just have to ask.’ He says this loudly enough for everyone to hear, before turning on his heel and sauntering back over to his desk, his winkle-pickers squeaking along the wooden floor.
‘Thanks for that,’ I say, my heart rate now reducing to a normal rhythm.
‘I’ll buy a holiday, you know, if you like?’
He suddenly sounds so very vulnerable and I perhaps understand his predicament for the first time. This is a man who truly worries about other people.
‘Don’t be daft,’ I whisper. ‘You won’t be able to travel if you’re brown bread.’
He laughs warmly and from nowhere I feel my eyes welling up yet again. I really don’t want him to die.
‘Please tell me what the matter is, Liam. This is more than you not loving your wife.’
He sighs deeply, the multiple thoughts in his head seemingly clashing together. I hear him light a cigarette and instantly feel envious. Before I can ask again, he starts to speak.
‘So, you mentioned going home to face a punishment… that you’d run away? Tell me, Lana. Tell me, what happened?’
My heart begins to thump loudly in my chest as memories of that night slap me round the face. I close my eyes in an attempt to shake them away but it’s no use, the images remain, as if they are being played back to me in HD: the body, the smell, the panic that was so strong I could actually taste it on my tongue. I choke back saliva as I reply to Liam.
‘It was nothing.’
He pauses a fraction too long. He doesn’t believe me. I’m not surprised. I’ve never been able to spin a lie.
‘I’m here,’ he says at last, an almost-whisper, ‘I’m here if you want to talk.’
I simply nod, forgetting for a moment that he is thousands of miles away and cannot see me. I hesitate, unsure of where to go now. I could kick myself for revealing too much. I’d vowed to never tell a soul, never to utter a word, and then I’d be safe. I do want to tell him, to speak it out loud, but I can’t. Not if I want to keep Amber safe. Protecting Amber is the single most important thing in my life… that is why I have to bury this secret within me, and never let it surface.
‘I’m sorry… I can’t tell you.’
There’s an awkward pause, the silence speaking a thousand words; in a matter of seconds, we have become strangers all over again, our secrets wedging an invisible barrier between us. I rest my hand on the computer mouse, the feel of it cool to the touch. Sliding it across the mouse mat, I glue my eyes to the computer monitor. The cursor hovers over the End Call button. I want to press it, to rid myself of this responsibility.
But I did that once before, didn’t I? And somebody died as a result.
‘So,’ I mutter to Liam, not sure of what I’m going to say but certain I have to keep him talking. I flick my eyes over to Damien, check he’s back on Candy Crush. ‘You were telling me about Jessica, how you don’t love her.’ I wince at my words. I never was great at being subtle, especially when I don’t think things through. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to be blunt.’
‘No,’ he replies, his voice almost apologetic. ‘I’m sorry, Lana. I never meant to snap at you. It’s just, well…’ He sighs, and I can almost feel his frustration. ‘It’s important to me that you know why I have to die. Why there isn’t another option. It’s not as simple as you think, but I don’t know how to explain. They say suicide is often a selfish act but for me it isn’t. At least I’m not doing it to be cowardly, you have to believe that.’
‘But what about Elliott? Think about him!’
‘It’s not as simple as that, Lana. You don’t understand. But just believe me when I say that all I have ever done, all the decisions I have ever made, have been for my children.’
‘Children?’ I ask, wondering if I’ve heard him correctly. ‘You mean Elliott and Summer?’
‘No,’ he replies with a sigh. ‘There was one more.’
Liam’s Story, June 2011
‘Thank God you came. I don’t know what to do with him. His skin is all inflamed and he won’t stop screaming.’
Jessica practically dragged me into the house by my arm. Crying hysterically, her mascara was running black streaks down her face as she tried in vain to calm her breathing. Feeling her distress, and hearing Elliott wailing in the distance, I practically ran into the front room and bent down to where he was lying on the carpet. He was wearing a nappy, and his pyjama top had been pulled up to reveal his stomach tube, which he’d had fitted just after the accident.
He’d been out of hospital for three weeks and I’d barely left him. Unfortunately, life had to go on and I’d been called away to work for the weekend. I therefore hadn’t seen Jessica, Amy and Elliott for four days.
Taking a closer look at Elliott’s stomach, I noticed that his skin around the tube was red and swollen. Instinctively, I winced. ‘How long has he been this grouchy?’ I asked, while feeling his forehead with the back of my hand. He was slightly hot but I didn’t think he had too much of a temperature. Almost as soon as I touched him, Elliott calmed down; his crying became quieter and reduced to an almost-hiccup.
‘He likes you, Liam,’ observed Jessica from the doorway, her own tears beginning to dry as she regained her composure.
‘What do you reckon?’ I continued to stare at Elliott’s feeding tube, ignoring her comment. The truth was, I couldn’t handle the guilt. Couldn’t handle the fact that Elliott did indeed seem to like me, after everything I had done to him. ‘Shall we take him to hospital?’ I continued to say.
‘I think it’s okay,’ she replied, perhaps a little too quickly. ‘I googled it and, apparently, inflammation is common for