If I Fall Page 8

  ‘You’re really worried about her,’ Connie observed.

  ‘Yes. She’s getting worse and worse.’ Layla picked up her glass of Prosecco. ‘And then on other days, she’s totally normal and fine. It’s exhausting. So up and down.’

  ‘Will she come and join us?’

  ‘I’ve asked her. But she’s watching one of the TV shows she can’t tear herself away from. I really want you to see how bad she is. I need help with her.’ Layla ran a hand through her hair. ‘She was going on about Jonas being good-looking just now.’

  ‘Was she?’ Connie laughed. ‘Well, I’m not sure I’d say that. He’s nice-looking rather than good-looking, I reckon.’

  ‘Definitely. I… was wondering if she might have confused him with JJ.’

  Connie’s eyes flickered to meet Layla’s. ‘Really? Ah well. We all make mistakes.’

  ‘Yes indeed.’ Layla nodded. ‘So anyway. Do you know if Jonas lost this case he was worried about?’

  Connie sat back on the sofa. ‘I don’t know for sure as he hasn’t spoken to me about it. But not coming home the other night because he got blind drunk? I’d say it was a fairly good bet to say that it’s all gone badly.’

  ‘Good point.’ Layla cocked her head towards her mum’s door, not sure if she could hear movement. ‘What does that mean, though, losing this case? It’s not a sackable offence or anything, is it?’

  ‘I shouldn’t think so.’ Connie sighed. ‘I was talking to the girls about Jonas the other day. About how we met. And I remembered how he used to be, you know?’

  ‘Funny?’

  ‘Yes!’ Connie sat up. ‘See, the girls didn’t believe me when I said that about him. Because for ages, he’s just been this angry, stressed out person.’ She looked down. ‘So stressed out. So… aggressive.’

  ‘Is there more to it than that?’ Layla softened her expression, something she did with her clients when she sensed they might be ripe for letting something out.

  Connie bit her lip and lifted her head. Tears sprang into her eyes and she quickly dabbed at them with the edge of her sleeve.

  Layla stared at her. There was a look of sheer agony in Connie’s eyes. And Layla knew she hadn’t imagined it. She was very familiar with such looks; she saw that kind of thing in her therapy room every day. Connie seemed so sad, broken even. What the hell was going on?

  Connie hesitated. ‘I… I… it’s… I want to tell you, but I, I…’ Her voice trailed away.

  ‘You know you’re safe to tell me anything you want?’ Layla asked gently. ‘Anything at all. I don’t want to sound like I’m doing my day job, because I’m not. This is me being your friend, OK?’

  Connie swallowed.

  ‘I won’t judge you, I won’t give you advice if you don’t want me to.’ Layla really hoped Connie trusted her. ‘And I definitely won’t trot out any therapist speak.’

  Connie took a shuddering breath. And opened her mouth.

  ‘Connie. How lovely to see you.’

  Layla’s heart sank. Of course her mother would choose that exact moment to emerge from her bedroom.

  Connie closed her mouth and somehow managed to plaster a smile onto her face.

  ‘Evelyn. You look well.’

  Layla frowned. Connie was clearly just being polite.

  ‘Thank you,’ Evelyn said, taking a seat.

  Layla stared at her mum. Connie wasn’t just being polite. Her mum had made a huge effort; she looked completely different to how she had when Layla had spoken to her before. She had brushed her hair and changed into a neat, navy dress. She hadn’t bothered with tights or shoes, but she had put some lipstick on. Bright red, but hey.

  ‘Are you OK, Mum?’

  Evelyn regarded her with some surprise. ‘Yes, darling. Why wouldn’t I be?’

  ‘Er, no reason.’ Layla inwardly sighed. Her mum was obviously having one of her ‘normal’ moments. Which was great on the one hand, but really crappy on the other, as Layla had hoped Connie might see her mum at her worst, so she could understand why Layla was so worried.

  ‘So how are things with you?’ Evelyn said chattily, turning to Connie. ‘Ooh, Prosecco. May I?’

  Layla got up to get her a glass. This was what was so confusing. One minute her mum was acting like a child; the next she was back to her normal self.

  Evelyn took a sip. ‘I’ve always loved bubbles.’

  ‘Me too,’ Connie said. She shot a regretful glance at Layla as if she had been looking forward to off-loading.

  ‘So how is your husband?’ Evelyn asked.

  ‘Jonas,’ Layla inserted quickly.

  ‘Jonas, I know,’ Evelyn said, giving Layla a frown. ‘He’s the solicitor, isn’t he? Barrister… oh, I’m not sure what. But he’s in the legal profession.’

  ‘He certainly is,’ Connie agreed with a smile.

  ‘I love a legal drama on TV,’ Evelyn said, sitting back comfortably. ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘Not so much,’ Connie replied, curling up on the sofa next to her. ‘I get enough legal speak at home. Unless it’s Suits. Because everyone likes Suits, right?’ She winked at Layla.

  Layla laughed. Connie had the biggest crush on the main character, Harvey Specter. Layla watched her mum chatting away to Connie. God, she seemed totally normal! This happened now and again, but not usually for this long. The moments of normality were usually just that; moments. But this felt like the old days. As though nothing was actually wrong. As if her mum was the person she had always been. Vital, relaxed, fun. Coherent, sharp and competent.

  Oh, if only she could stay this way, Layla thought to herself. Life would be so much more fun if she and her mum could sit and chat like this in the evenings. Share a glass of Prosecco now and again. It was almost hard to imagine her mum as the child-like person she had become when she was like this. Hard to imagine that she often emerged from her room with her hair resembling a bird’s nest, wearing a dirty dressing gown and totally incapable of finding the bathroom.

  ‘So. What do we need to do to find Layla a lovely young man?’ Evelyn said coquettishly, smiling at her daughter.

  ‘I don’t know if I want a young one,’ Layla protested. ‘But a lovely one would be great.’

  ‘A lovely one would be great,’ Connie agreed.

  Layla glanced at Connie. She looked almost wistful. Something was definitely going on.

  ‘I really want you to have your own life,’ Evelyn said suddenly, turning to Layla.

  Layla smiled back at her mum as she carried on chatting to Connie in a completely normal way, feeling tears coming when they shouldn’t. She knew she had a lot to be grateful for and she hated whining about stuff, especially stuff she couldn’t control. But if her mum stayed like this all the time and wasn’t over-filling the bath or blowing the kettle up or screaming out for Layla when she was with a client, Layla probably could have her own life. She would be able to go out and meet a nice guy – she wouldn’t need to rely on horrible dating apps.

  But it wasn’t her mum’s fault. She couldn’t help being ill. And even though her mum was acting as though she could easily remember how to make a cup of tea right now, Layla knew it would only be a matter of hours before such a situation reared its head again. Surely this was just a temporary lapse? Surely her mum would shortly revert to not being able to complete simple tasks and struggling to speak properly?

  It was all so sad. Layla went to the fridge and took out another bottle of Prosecco. She opened it and returned to the lounge, pausing in the doorway. Her mum had been such a fun person to be around before this had happened to her, so caring and kind. It was a cruel thing, whatever it was. Dementia most likely, Layla knew that. Not all the symptoms fitted, but it had to be something like that. Layla supposed she should get her mum diagnosed, but she knew that as soon as she did that, life would change. It could get easier, of course, but Layla wasn’t ready to face up to confirmation that her mum wasn’t herself anymore. And she had done enough personal therapy to recognise exactly what she was
doing and why; she wasn’t in any kind of denial. Just… not quite ready to have the problem she knew was there spelt out.

  Layla poured out some more Prosecco and watched Connie and her mum chatting. For tonight, her mum was back to her old self and Layla was going to enjoy it. There was plenty of time for her to get a diagnosis and deal with whatever was going on.

  ‘Do you have any photos of the men you’re chatting to on your dating sites?’ Evelyn asked innocently. ‘Connie says they send you photos.’

  Shooting an evil look at Connie, who was falling about laughing, Layla wondered how the hell she was supposed to explain the concept of dick pics to her mum.

  JJ

  JJ slowed down. Out running in his local park, he hadn’t noticed the time, but it must be just after school kick-out time, because the park was overflowing with mums and kids. The park was beautiful – a huge stretch of grass with crazy golf and tennis courts, and a large play area for children that had recently been re-vamped to include some cool gym machines and a skate park. Back in the day, JJ might have seen being in the park this time of day as a prime opportunity to have some friendly chats and see if there were any single mums out there, but he really didn’t have the inclination these days.

  What on earth was wrong with him? JJ did a couple of stretches to avoid stiffening up, barely noticing a pretty mum frantically flipping her hair in his direction as she walked past with a hyperactive toddler. Was he finally ready to settle down, is that what it was? Surely not. The whole idea still filled him with horror. Well, not settling down as such. But the fact that none of the women he met seemed to interest him for more than a few hours. And JJ wasn’t a shallow Lothario; he knew he wasn’t. He had done an extremely good job of portraying that image for a number of years but it really wasn’t sitting well with him at the moment.

  JJ had no idea what the hell was going on with him, though, and it was driving him insane. He pulled up the collar of his tracksuit and started walking briskly back to his flat. He felt out of his comfort zone… not himself. He had spent so long living a certain kind of life, it felt strange not to be looking forward to hanging out in bars with his mates and meeting women. To be fair, only a few of them were doing that now as most of them had met the one they wanted to settle down with or had already had kids, but JJ knew he only had to dial a few numbers and some of the boys would be up for a night out. Which was a shame considering the fact that JJ really couldn’t be bothered.

  He paused and watched a father push his son back and forth on a swing for a moment. The boy was laughing his head off at the sheer fun of it and the father was laughing too. He pulled the boy out of the swing, kissed him on the forehead and cuddled him, saying something in the boy’s ear. JJ felt his heart melt and clench at the same time, which was an odd sensation, but an acknowledgement of the fact that he had just witnessed something cute – something that demonstrated how family life was meant to be. And perhaps there was a part of JJ that wanted that too. Perhaps. JJ wasn’t sure he was fully ready to take that role on yet, but he felt that it was definitely in his future. And he sure as hell knew what kind of father he wouldn’t be.

  Feeling his heart clench again, JJ got back to his brisk walk and did what he did best in these situations; he ignored them. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, JJ pulled out his phone. He had a couple of clients later, but he had some time to kill first. He had the strangest urge to call Connie but he had no real idea why. Instead, he called Layla.

  ‘Hey. How are things?’

  ‘Not too bad. You?’

  Layla sounded oddly flat.

  ‘Not too bad. What’s happening with your mum?’

  ‘She was brilliant the other night. Connie came over and Mum was just like her old self.’

  ‘Connie came over?’ JJ was annoyed at himself for picking up on that part. He should be asking Layla about her mum.

  ‘She did.’ Layla paused. ‘I don’t think things are that great with her and Jonas.’

  JJ stopped walking and frowned. ‘In what way?’

  ‘I’m not sure. She started to talk about it and then my mum came in acting all normal and we got distracted.’

  ‘Right.’ JJ wondered what was going on. He should have called Connie. He knew he should have called Connie. ‘What do you think might be wrong?’ He heard Layla hesitate. ‘Go on. Say what you think, Lay. You’re obviously worried about her.’

  He heard Layla sigh. ‘I don’t know exactly, JJ. I don’t want to say anything as I might be way off beam.’

  JJ felt frustrated. Why wouldn’t she say what she thought? ‘But you’re a therapist,’ he said calmly. ‘You must have a sense.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Layla clearly didn’t want to say what was on her mind.

  JJ had no choice but to let it go. Otherwise he’d sound like a mentalist. But he didn’t feel great about what Layla might have been hinting at. It sounded as though she was concerned about Connie, not just saying that she and Jonas were rowing or something.

  ‘So. Your mum. What’s the latest on her?’

  ‘She’s pretty bad,’ Layla admitted. ‘I don’t know what to do about her.’

  ‘You need to get her diagnosed, Lay. She’s probably got dementia, or a form of it. You need to get her assessed and then you’ll know what you’re dealing with.’

  ‘I know, I know. I’m just having trouble bringing myself to do it.’

  JJ shook his head. Layla was a therapist. Surely this stuff should be straightforward? But maybe not when it was her situation, not someone else’s.

  ‘Can I help at all? Come to the doctor’s with you? Look up some information that might help?’

  ‘You’re very sweet,’ Layla told him warmly. ‘But I have to do this myself, hun. Thank you, though. Oh God, I’d better go. She’s yelling about her shoes or something.’

  ‘OK. Speak soon. Here if you need me.’

  JJ tapped his phone against his leg. Should he phone Connie? He wanted to check on her, but he could hardly phone up and say that Layla had been talking about her. And Connie was sure to guess that’s why he was phoning. He and Connie didn’t often phone each other. It wasn’t something they had ever spoken about, it was just the way they were.

  JJ stopped by a little caravan selling drinks and grabbed himself a hot tea. He felt anxious about Connie. Absurdly protective of her, in fact. He really didn’t like the thought that she was in a bad place. He had always felt this way about her, even back at uni. Even when it was over between them. JJ couldn’t really explain why, but he knew he would drop everything to run to Connie’s side if she needed him. Which would sound nuts to most people. JJ couldn’t imagine a girlfriend – should he ever get a serious one – would be too happy about him rushing off mid-dinner (as an example) if Connie phoned up saying she was in trouble.

  But JJ knew that this is exactly what he would do. They had once had an amazing connection and in JJ’s eyes, that counted for a lot. He was sure that was all it was. It couldn’t be any more than that, could it? Not now. No. Connie was with Jonas and JJ was… still floating about, trying to find the meaning of life.

  JJ’s phone rang and he felt ridiculous for hoping it was Connie. But it wasn’t. It was just a number rather than a name, but it was a number he recognised. A number he would rather forget. JJ almost dropped his tea. He sat down on a bench and put the tea down next to him. With a shaking hand, he sent the call straight to voicemail. A minute later, his phone rang again. The same number. JJ sucked his breath in. This couldn’t be happening. He sent the call to voicemail again.

  When the same number had come up six times, JJ leant back on the bench. He answered his phone.

  ‘I told you not to call me ever again.’

  ‘I just want to talk,’ said a man’s voice.

  ‘Well I don’t,’ JJ said tersely. His knuckles were white around his phone. ‘Go away. Don’t call again.’

  ‘I want to talk.’

  ‘I’ll change my number again.’

  ‘And I
’ll track you down again.’

  JJ felt sick. ‘Just leave me alone.’

  ‘I can’t. I’m your dad.’

  ‘You’re nothing to me. Nothing, do you hear me!’

  JJ realised he was shouting when a small child nearby jumped and started to cry. He ended the call and held a hand up to the mum. ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to shout like that.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ she said, giving him a smile, but she shuffled her daughter away quickly nonetheless.

  JJ put his head in his hands. If he didn’t put his mind to it, he knew he was going to be sick. Was this nightmare ever going to end? What could he do to stop this from happening?

  Completely forgetting about his tea, JJ got up and headed home, wishing more than anything that he had someone waiting there to put their arms around him and make this go away. And when he said ‘someone’, he really only had one person in mind, even though it was impossible for that someone to ever be waiting for him at home. JJ suddenly felt consumed with regret. And knew he was going to have to work very hard to bury it.

  Connie

  ‘Where’s the butter?’

  Jonas rooted around the kitchen irritably, shoving things out of the way and opening cupboard doors loudly.

  ‘In the butter dish,’ Connie said, trying not to sound patronising.

  ‘And where, Connie, is the bloody butter dish?’

  By the bloody bread bin, she thought silently. ‘Bread bin?’ she offered calmly instead.

  Bella, wearing a pair of skin-tight jeans and a cropped top that barely covered any of the essentials, rolled her eyes at Connie. Tipping yogurt over a bowl of muesli and mouthing ‘men!’ at Connie, Bella grabbed a spoon and left.

  Connie envied her daughter. She wished she could leave the room. The house, actually. Connie usually loved the sanctuary of her home but with Jonas in this mood, the entire space felt fraught. Trying to block out the sound of Jonas clattering plates and cutlery, Connie turned back to her laptop. She was writing a piece about being organised with food when you have kids, but she wasn’t really feeling it. And Connie wasn’t sure if it was because her blog just wasn’t doing it for her anymore or if it was because Jonas was prowling around the kitchen like an edgy lion craving a kill.