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Great Writing - Home > Extended > Let no man put asunder - chapter 8
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Extended Work
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| Let no man put asunder - chapter 8 | |
| By LynB | ||
| 21 November 2006 | ||
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Chapter 8 Emily waited patiently until the storm had passed, not saying a word, but just gently stroking his hair in a gesture of silent comfort. Suddenly, he sat up on edge of the bed, where he remained for a moment, his head in his hands. Then, as if nothing had happened, he reached out for Emily, saying: “Come on! Hold on to me! Let’s get you up!” “Daddy! Stop it!” “Stop what?” “Why are you pretending that there’s nothing wrong? It doesn’t make sense, daddy! A minute ago you were crying, now you’re pretending there’s nothing wrong!” “There isn’t now!” he said, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Come on! Hold on – that’s it!” Not at all convinced, Emily put her arms around his neck, and he lifted her out of bed. When she was safely downstairs, seated at the breakfast table, he turned his attention to the other three. As they all shouted at once, he wondered how the hell Donna managed it without losing her sanity! Eventually, they all sat there together, enjoying a fairly peaceful breakfast – until David flatly refused to take the expressed milk Donna had left in the fridge for him. He fixed Jon with a stubborn glare, and pursed his lips together. He could not yet speak, but he was still capable of making his intentions known! “Come on!” pleaded Jon, completely at a loss. “You’ve eaten the rusk, the next step is to drink the bloody milk! At least that’s what happens when mummy does it! Come on, give me a break!” “He likes mummy’s boobs!” said Rosie, succinct as ever. “So does daddy!” replied Emily, grinning broadly, as, for the first time she could remember in ages, his infectious laughter filled the room. When he had finally recovered, he tried in vain to be cross with her. “Emily, that’s enough!” he said, struggling not to smile. “Little ears – remember?” While all this had been going on, David had been sitting in his highchair, concentrating hard on his bottle, putting the teat in his mouth, and pulling at it. He ignored Jon’s pleas to put it down, and continued pulling, until there was an almighty pop, and he was drenched in milk. David giggled, and the girls joined in. Emily glanced at Jon, expecting him to react the same as he had to her comment of a few minutes ago. They were all stunned into silence when he stood up, and leaned over David’s highchair, his eyes blazing. “You little bugger!” He pulled a now screaming David out of his chair. “Look at me! I’m bloody soaked! Why didn’t you drink it when I told you to! And for God’s sake, stop screaming!” “He’s scared, daddy!” said Emily, her eyes wide with fear and amazement. “Don’t shout at him! You’ve made Rosie and Clare cry, too! You’re mean!” “Don’t tell me what to do!” he yelled, rounding on her. “I will not be told what to do in my own home!” “I hate you!” she shouted, tears pouring down her face. “I hate you! Leave me alone!” She pressed the button on the arm of her wheelchair, and steered herself out of the kitchen, and into the living room, where she almost collided with an astounded Donna. She had heard the noise, and had come down to see what on earth was going on. As all the children began to talk at once, trying to make themselves heard above David’s screams, she marched into the kitchen, and demanded to know what was going on. “Give him to me!” she ordered, giving Jon a look that chilled him to the bone. “I suggest you go upstairs, and get changed – and bloody cool off!” Not daring to argue with her, he did as she said. She held David close, gently rocking him, and talking softly, until he eventually fell quiet. As she sat down on the sofa with him, he gave in to sleep – he was completely exhausted. Rosie and Clare climbed up next to her, clinging on to her, refusing to let go. This was the first time they had ever seen their father lose it like this, and they were scared out of their wits. They were not old enough to understand the underlying cause of his anger, and just thought it was something they had done – but they did not know what it was. Emily positioned her chair in front of Donna, the expression on her face breaking her heart. “Daddy shouted!” said Rosie, her lips trembling. “He was really cross, mummy! He made us all cry! Why is he so cross?” “He’s been working hard, Rosie!” said Donna, trying to give her an explanation she would understand. “He’s very, very tired! Sometimes when people are tired, they get cross, and they say things they don’t mean, and sometimes they shout! They do things they wouldn’t normally do – daddy doesn’t normally shout at you, does he? Well, he shouted at you today because he’s so tired! When he’s had a rest, he’ll be all right again! You wait and see!” As she looked up and exchanged glances with Emily, she knew they were both thinking the same thing. It would take more than a good night’s sleep to solve Jon’s problems. She did not know about his conversation with Emily about Eileen, and his subsequent reaction, and Emily decided not to tell her – she did not want to worry her further. The way her childish mind worked amazed them – sometimes she seemed to be an adult in a child’s body, with wisdom far beyond her years. Later on that day, when David was asleep, and Emily was entertaining the two younger girls with the toys in the conservatory, Donna took the opportunity to have a well-earned rest. As she sat watching TV, she was suddenly aware of someone standing behind her. As she turned around and saw Jon, she was shocked by his appearance. He looked tired and ill, and had dark circles around his eyes. Although they still drew her to him like a moth to a flame, they had lost their usual sparkle, and now they were just lifeless. She had been furious with him when she had heard him shouting at the children, but right now she found it impossible to stay angry with him. She held out her hand to him, inviting him to sit with her. He hesitated for a second, then he reluctantly sat down next to her, giving her sheepish sideways glances. “I’m surprised you want me anywhere near you!” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “I can’t believe I shouted at a little baby! God, what kind of a bastard am I turning into? What am I doing to my precious children? What am I doing to you?” “I’m not mad with you!” she replied, gently cupping his face in her hands. “And you’re not a bastard! You’re frightened, confused and angry – and you’re the man I love! Enough’s enough, now! You can’t put it off any longer – you have to get help! You have to go to the doctor, and ask for help! I’ll come with you if you want me to – you don’t have to do this alone, sweetheart! Hey, come on! No tears! We’ll get through this – you’ll see! Come here, you look as if you could do with a hug!” She held him close, as he leaned his head on her shoulder, crying softly. She gently kissed the top of his head, and gently rocked him in her arms, just as she had little David. It had just the same effect, as his eyes slowly closed, as sleep finally claimed him. As she held him, Donna thought of the man she’d married – always ready with a smile, a permanent twinkle in his piercing blue eyes, his God given voice filling the air and leaving them mesmerised by its beauty – he had always been so strong, so capable. Whenever her put his arms around her, she felt safe and warm, and she wondered how it was possible to love someone so much. Now, as she glanced down at him, he looked just like a bewildered child, taking sanctuary in his mother’s arms. Despite her best efforts, she could not hold back any longer, and, burying her face in his hair, she cried as if her heart would break. Finally giving in to Donna’s heartfelt pleas, Jon made an appointment to visit the doctor. After listening to his explanation – which took some time as it was punctuated by periods of silence, and helpless tears – she decided that the best course of action was to refer him to a counsellor, who would, hopefully, talk to him at length and get to the bottom of whatever was causing his heartache. When the day of his first session finally came around, he insisted on going alone, once again, his stubborn male pride getting in the way. As he approached the large double doors that led to the counsellor’s office, for a moment he was in two minds about whether to go in – but he took a deep breath and walked in. He went up to the reception desk and gave his name, then took a seat, wringing his hands together and nervously looking around as he waited his turn. At last, the door opened, and the counsellor emerged – a kindly looking woman in her mid forties. She smiled at him warmly, and invited him to come with her. He stood up, but he did not move. “It’s all right!” she said, holding her hand out to him. “Come with me, and we’ll have a little chat!” “No!” His voice began to rise in panic, his eyes wide. “I can’t do it! I can’t! You’ll have me put away! I – “ “No, I won’t!” she said, shocked by his reaction, but she remained calm. “I just want you to talk to me, so we can find out what’s wrong! I promise you, that’s not going to happen! Please, come with me – “ “No! I don’t believe you! I can’t do it! I’m sorry!” With that, he turned and ran from the room, not taking a blind bit of notice of where he was going. The counsellor gasped and put her hand over her mouth, as she heard a scream and a screech of brakes….
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