Beneath The Skin Episode 47

It was as if sharing Tom might lessen the pain, when all Walt wanted to do was hold on to it. The pain was all he had left of Tom, of the men they both had been. He slumped down on the couch, sucked in a ragged breath.

“Yeah, Tom was my mate. We grew up together. The Three Musketeers – Tom, Steven and me. Used to get in a lot of scrapes, believe me.”

Glancing up, he shared the ghost of a smile with her. “We enlisted together, went through basic, got posted to Afghan. He bought it on our second tour. Lost his legs. Died as they were evacuating him.”

Suddenly she was on the couch beside him, and her hand found his. It was a tiny gesture, but he squeezed her fingers until she flinched.

“Did he have a family?”

“A wife, Sara. Two little kids, and his mam and dad, of course. They still live next door to my folks. It’s hard to see them, really hard.”

“Tell me about the rope.” Her voice was gentle, coaxing. He glanced at the bed. “It’s my mam’s washing line. Been tied to a tree since Adam was a lad, but one day I cut it down. Made a noose.”

“Oh Walt.” She stroked the back of his hand.

“It’s okay, I didn’t make a good job of it – obviously!” He tried to turn it into a joke, but it sounded hollow. He swallowed. “Steven found me, cut me down. They carted me off to the hospital, but it’s hard to patch up something you can’t see.

“My family were gutted, but I came out all the more determined to finish the job. I just didn’t want them – me mam – to have to witness it. So I took off. Left a note. Left my wallet and my phone.

“I camped in the hills for a while. I don’t remember how long. I packed the rope in my Bergen. It was my safety valve, a constant reminder that if things got too bad, I had a way out.”

It seemed like brutal logic when he said it out loud. He was scared to look at Mouse. Just when she’d made him feel good on the inside, it was all starting to come apart. She’d been right. What normal person carries around a rope?

Suddenly William’s voice piped up from behind them. “You should just get rid of it, Walt.”

How long had he been standing there? How much had he heard?

Mouse jumped to her feet, still in just a T-shirt and knickers. She grabbed her jeans from the back of a chair. “Didn’t I tell you to get dressed?”

“I am dressed.” William looked offended. “Don’t you think Walt should just dump the rope?”

“I think... I think that’s Walt’s decision.” Fully dressed, she tried to steer the kid from the room. She paused in the doorway, but the light coming in behind her made it hard to read her expression.

“Come on, let’s get some breakfast. think Walt has some choices to make.”

He let them leave before getting up slowly from the chair. She was right. He could choose to let this destroy him.

Or not. He looked at the rope, nestling in the flowery duvet, and the rope looked at him.

He made a decision.

Final break-up

I

Ur not the same guy any more.

The final break-up is played out in text messages. He stares at his phone, not knowing what to reply. The truth hurts. Jo has always been truthful. That’s what he loved about her. Loves.

We need a break.

It was the best he could do. Wasn’t that the modern way, to have a break? There’d been two days of radio silence after the station incident followed by a bleak meeting over coffee in a shopping mall. Nothing had been resolved and they’d parted awkwardly, chairs scraping back with a noise that scratched his heart. And now the texts.

Yeah. Get help Walt. I will. I am. Text me when ur fixed.

He is laughing at that, and the laugh comes out silently, like a dry sob. It comes from somewhere deep down.

He’d thought all the raw, hurt parts had been exposed with the therapy, with all the help he’d been getting, but there’s always more to discover, always something untapped, a fresh ache.

He decides that he will never be fixed enough for Jo.

Looking for approval

They were both sitting at the kitchen table when he came down. William was ploughing his way through a bowl of cereal,

Mouse buttering toast at the kitchen counter. Walt’s heart opened painfully. Could he allow himself to believe that he was a part of this?

William looked up and smiled, cheeks bulging like a hamster.

“Walt, can you help me build a Lego train today? After school?” Walt made a noncommittal noise, looking to Mouse for approval; she usually had some excuse ready, some barrier to hand that he could never hope to get over.

Now, she placed the plate of toast on the table between them and gave him a look he couldn’t fathom. “That depends.”

His eyebrow shot up. “On what?” “On how good you are with Lego!” She shot him a grin and whirled away, back to the sink, picking up her cloth, wiping away crumbs. She was humming to herself. Smiling, he pulled out a chair and plonked himself down.

“I’ll have you know I’ve served my time at the Lego yard.”

“Really?” William’s eyes grew round as saucers.

“Oh aye. I’ve built a pirate ship and the Battlestar Galactica. I’m no novice.”

The kid looked suspicious. “Who did you build them for?”

“My niece and nephew.”

“How old are they?”

“Ooh... bit younger than you.” “What are their names?”

“Ella and Jack.”

“Where do they...”

“William, eat your breakfast. There’ll be time to talk later,” said Mouse. She looked pointedly at Walt and placed a mug of tea in front of him.

“Thanks for the tea this morning, by the way.” He thought of the two mugs, stone cold and abandoned on her bedside table, and caught her eye.

Something shivered between them. “Tomorrow morning,” he said. “You’ll get tea in bed tomorrow morning.”

He’d thought all the hurt parts had been exposed with all the help he’d been getting, but there’s always more to discover

More tomorrow.

Beneath The Skin, by Sandra Ireland, is published by Polygon, £8.99. Her latest book, Sight Unseen, is out now.