Her Silence

Chapter Twenty Three

"But there's nothing worse than being numb and feeling no more." Julia Martinez

Two weeks have now passed since the overwhelmingly odd evening. Sitting here, staring out into James's garden, I numbly sip on my coffee completely unaware of its temperature. It's probably scalding. In the reflection of the mirror I see James walking into the kitchen and making his way over to me, so I turn around on my chair to greet him. He pulls me into bear-hug and kisses the top of my head.

"Harry's all tucked up in bed. He doesn't even need to be asked anymore." I smile, thanking the Lord for blessing Harry with perfect behaviour. "How are you feeling?" I shrug my shoulders and tilt my head as if to say, 'no better, no worse'. This was our second weekend looking after Harry. We have him on Thursday evenings, and Friday into Saturday until he is picked up by Joan. When meeting with her for the first time since she left so ambiguously, I wasn't sure what to expect. To be told she risks having pneumonia wasn't even a consideration of mine. She had said it without a care in the world, though as the days have passed, I know deep down she is absolutely terrified. Who wouldn't be? And if she had simply her heating fixed, I'm nearly certain that this whole ordeal – ordeal being used loosely, of course – could have been avoided. I didn't let her have a say in the matter when I told her that James and I would begin to look after Harry as often as we could. She was adamant that Monday's to Wednesday's she could absolutely do, but I wasn't allowing her to have him anymore days of the week. I'm not sure whether it's because I'm paranoid, but each time I now see her she looks weaker and weaker. It was agreed that she would pick Harry up on Saturday's at any time she liked, usually by midday, and take him straight home to his parents. James and I couldn't get over the fact that his parents hadn't even questioned their son staying with complete strangers: I thought my family was dysfunctional.

"Has there been any news on my Mother? Any sightings?" I ask James. He shakes his head. I don't like to ask him too often as I know it's driving him up the wall that she disappears like smoke. My gut feeling had been right, and the crash that held Joan up on the first Thursday we looked after Harry had involved my Mother and the driver of James's replica car. She had realised it wasn't us in the car when the driver had done a complete round of the town and ended driving back past the police station. To this day I don't even want to know what she did. Luckily no one was hurt, but she ran off as soon as the damage was done. The wreckage of the car was taken to be searched and low and behold the boot had a false bottom: all of the kitchen knives were in there and are now back where they belong. It bothers me greatly not knowing what her intended purpose was with the knifes. There hadn't been a single recent report concerning a knife attack, nor recent CCTV footage of her at Tidy's. Wondering whether she had been following James, Harry and I with the intention to use them on one of us – God forbid – makes me sick to the stomach, but thinking about the possibilities keeps me a little less insane. Though it has left me sitting in wonder more frequently than I'd like to admit, it's something to wonder about nonetheless. I break out of my thoughts when I hear James clattering around in the cutlery draw, putting back the now dry utensils from dinner. I rinse out my mug and allow a wave of exhaustion to drench me. "I think I'm going to head to bed James. I cannot possibly keep my eyes open any longer."

"Okay baby, I'll be up in a bit. I'm just going to tidy up and then I'll shower. Hopefully you'll be done in the bathroom by then, slow coach." He says, winking. I roll my eyes smiling and make my way to James's room. Ever since Harry has been staying over, I've started sharing a bed with James so that Harry can have mine – James's house is only two-bedroomed, and I don't think he ever envisaged sharing it with two more people. Harry was delighted to see the double bed that was now 'his'. Initially I thought I would only be staying in James's room on the Friday night, but he pleaded and practically begged for me to continue sleeping with him. His reasoning? "Rosie, we are both adults and you're a human radiator." I was easily swayed, of course. As I brush my teeth I can hear soft murmurs from Harry's room. I quietly peek through the gap in the door to check on him, and he looks content. He has a small smile on his lips, and talks quietly. I can only hope he's having sweet dreams and that his mind isn't too preoccupied with worry over his Nana. I really do wonder how he is the way he is with absent parents. Joan has raised him perfectly, and I like to think she takes pride in that.

I wake up to James unwrapping his arms from me and haring through the bedroom door, running down the stairs. I hone into reality and can hear hammering on the door, and then a confused Harry on the landing.

"Who is that? It's only eight fifteen." I shrug, telling him I haven't got a clue. I get out of bed to put my dressing gown on, taking Harry's hand as we venture down the stairs to see who is causing the racket. To my complete astonishment, two very well dressed, business-looking people are standing in James's porch, James himself looking equally as shocked.

"Ah, there you are. Ready to go Harry?" The woman asked. I then come to the realisation that I am standing in the presence of Harry's parents.

"Mummy I only just woke up. I haven't even brushed my teeth or made my bed." Harry states, still clinging onto my hand. "Why are you hear so early? Nana usually picks me up before lunch, not before breakfast." His mother grimaces.

"Things to do, people to see." She replies monotonously. I inwardly scoff at the lack of ardour the two strangers have. The man hasn't even raised his head to look at his son, completely absorbed in his phone, but then speaks.

"Come on Harry don't just stand there. We need to get a move on." Simultaneously, Harry shoots up the stairs and James looks completely stunned.

"Mr Rodgers?" He asks. How on earth does he know these people? Mr Rodgers turns around and rudely squints at James before widening his eyes in amazement.

"James Murphy?"

"You know him?" Harry's mother asks, seemingly for both of us, as I'm just as confused.

*****

How do you think James knows these people? Check out the next chapter to find out!

I'm really enjoying writing about Rosie and Harry's friendship - they both adore each other, I think they are the brother/sister they never knew they needed!

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