His Silence : His Silence - Chapter 56 by Jacob1395 |
My first week drags into the next. I can’t help but think back to the evening of the day we found Noah, and Oliver standing at the head of the table. ‘We’re all in deep, deep shock today after the loss of our dear friend and brother, Noah,’ he’d said, wiping his right eye. I’d looked into my plate of food, breathing steadily. ‘We must all work better to help each other. If anyone is feeling stressed, or feels as though they’re struggling with their mental health, please come and find me. Remember our motto, peace, love, family.’ ‘Peace, love, family,’ everyone else replied in unison. ‘We can’t bring Noah back, but we must make sure we remember him. To Noah.’ ‘To Noah,’ everyone else said, raising their glasses. I’d glanced across to Abigail. She was biting her lip, as though she was trying really hard not to cry. Isaac rubbed her back. She didn’t speak for the rest of the evening. I help Callum unload the shopping out of the back of the minibus. Eve stayed close to Callum while we were in the supermarket, like she was trying to keep us apart. At least Callum’s sort of talking to me after our argument last week. I feel like I’m going to have to keep an eye on him now, like Noah was keeping an eye on Abigail. ‘D’you think there’s going to be a funeral we’ll have to go to?’ I ask him. ‘For Noah?’ he says, dropping his voice. ‘There’s been no mention of it, has there?’ ‘Well, if there has they’re keeping it very hush hush,’ I say, taking a shopping bag from him, the onions inside rolling on top of each other. ‘He didn’t commit suicide, Callum. He knew something about my family. He was a threat to . . .’ ‘Grace,’ Oliver calls me from the front of the house beckoning me over. For God’s sake. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. ‘I’ll see you soon.’ I hurry over to Oliver, still carrying the bag of shopping. ‘Oh don’t worry about the shopping, just leave it here and Callum will sort it out for you,’ Oliver says, beaming at me, although his voice comes out a little sharp. ‘I’d like us to work on the exercises.’ My back stiffens. Ever since Noah’s death, Oliver’s been more insistent we work together every day. I’m surprised he even allowed me to go to the shops to help everyone else out. I rest the shopping bag in the hallway against the shoe rack, and follow him back through the house, keeping my head down. I don’t risk looking back towards Callum. Eve will take this opportunity to grab him. I slump after Oliver back to the annexe. He’s walking ahead of me. He holds the annexe door open for me and we step inside. I rub my arms and he opens his bedroom door. ‘Have the police not said anything more to you about Noah?’ I ask. He closes his bedroom door behind me. I haven’t questioned him about what happened all week, but I want to see his reaction. ‘No, I’m afraid not, Grace. They’ll have completed the post mortem this week. I’m not sure if they’ll want to contact us once everything’s been concluded. I’ve not had many dealings with the police in the past.’ He keeps the expressions on his face neutral. I frown at him. ‘What about when your wife was killed?’ Oliver rolls his shoulders back. ‘Oh, well, apart from back then, but I was in too much of a state of shock to really understand what was going on around me. Please sit, Grace.’ I take a seat in the armchair next to the television. It’s like he wants to move the conversation on. He drags his spare chair and pulls it closer to me. When he sits his knees almost touch mine. ‘I really need you to concentrate, Grace. The more you concentrate the easier this will be for you, the more you’ll see the path you’re meant to be on.’ I resist the urge to shrink back into my seat. God this sounds so creepy. ‘I’ll . . . I’ll try.’ I close my eyes, knowing what’s coming next. Focus on your breathing. It’s Oliver’s voice I hear in my head. At least, in the past couple of times we’ve done this exercise, I haven’t had a memory relapse to the time I was hiding in the wardrobe, like the first time. ‘Are you in your special place, Grace?’ Oliver’s voice drifts into my ear. I want to laugh, but I manage to keep a straight face. All I can see is darkness, no special place, like Oliver keeps insisting I must see. ‘Yep,’ I lie. ‘Good. Now, this time, I want you to picture me there with you. Picture us talking, holding hands.’ This time I can’t help but imagine Oliver and me, walking in the garden at Emma and Michael’s. He’s clutching my arm, speaking softly to me. God, it seems so real. ‘That’s excellent, Grace, now, tell me, how do you feel?’ ‘I feel . . . I feel at peace.’ It’s the most random thing I can think of on the spot, but it’ll please him at least. He’ll think, whatever it is he’s trying to do, it’s working. ‘Excellent, Grace. Now I want you to picture us here, living together, working together. Can you do that for me, Grace?’ The vision in my head changes. I’m sitting with Oliver at the head of the dining table up at the house . . . I’m . . . my eyes snap open. I look down, I’m drenched in sweat. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, wiping my brow. Oliver shakes his head. ‘You don’t need to be sorry, Grace, you connected, you connected to me for the first time. That’s incredible.’ I want to leave. He’s looking at me in a way like he could see the visions I could. But there’s no way he could’ve. I breathe in the vanilla scent in his room. ‘It felt weird,’ I say, shifting in my seat, averting my gaze from Oliver’s. ‘It always does the first time,’ Oliver says, excitement in his voice. ‘But we’ve broken through the barrier at last. Now, I’d like to try again, OK.’ This time he reaches out and clutches my hands. I try to think about what was different to what I’d done before. This is nonsense. Oliver’s using mind games to try and get through to me. ‘Close your eyes, Grace. Picture yourself back in that space. He holds my clammy hands tight. It gets harder and harder to focus. I eye the television in the corner of the room. My head spins. ‘Focus, Grace.’ I shake my head, opening my eyes. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t breathe.’ I stand, snatching my hands from Oliver’s grasp, and almost knock into him as I make my way to the window. I fling it open, not caring about asking Oliver if it’s OK, and drink in greedy gulps of cool air. ‘Grace, you were doing so well, I thought we’d made a real breakthrough,’ he says, sighing. I nod. ‘Yep, um, I just need a break.’ I stare in the direction of the house. Visions of Noah’s limp body pop into my head. I shake them out. ‘It’s OK, we can take five minutes,’ Oliver says, frustration in his voice. ‘What is it, Grace, that you find so hard? There seem to be moments when you just allow yourself to let go, and then there are other moments when you seem so tense.’ I rub my forehead. ‘It’s just . . . it’s my family, I thought, by coming here, I would get answers, and it’s been a week and . . . I need to find out the truth.’ I can’t help the words from tumbling out of mouth. Oliver moves over to me. ‘Grace, you need to stop holding onto the past. There’s nothing you can do to change it. What happened to your family was a tragedy, but you’ve got to focus on you now. Not them, do you hear me?’ He fixes a hard gaze on me. ‘Do you hear me, Grace?’ I stare at him, how can he say that to me? He told me when I first came here how devastated he was when my parents were killed, and now, it’s like he’s ready to brush them to one side. ‘I need to lie down,’ I say, tears building behind my eyes. I wipe my eyes. Oliver clutches my arm before I have the chance to leave the room. ‘Grace, we have the chance for something special here,’ he says. His eyes are shining. Please don’t say he’s about to start crying. ‘Don’t throw it all away just because you can’t let go of the past.’ I don’t say anything to him. Instead I leave the room and head into mine. I sit on the end of my bed and pick up Mum’s diary, my body trembling. What the hell Oliver thinks these sessions are going to achieve, I still have no idea. My grip on the diary tightens. I flick through the pages, skimming the first entry again to when Mum first met Oliver, and to a few days later. I take in a deep breath and begin to read.
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