‘That’s why I’m here,’ Jack said non-committally.
Hargreaves found Jack’s dark eyes unnerving, almost challenging, but it didn’t disturb him. He had spent years as a prison psychiatrist so had extensive experience of troubled and dangerous individuals. Jack’s physically relaxed demeanour was slightly at odds with his steady eye contact, but he showed no tension with his hands resting on his crossed legs. Hargreaves started slowly.
‘This must be quite a challenging time with a new baby?’
‘You could say that. But Maggie is incredible.’
‘What’s your son’s name?’
‘We’re still arguing about that. I want to call him Horatio, but Maggie hates it.’ Hargreaves looked as if he was about to say something so Jack quickly went on. ‘When Maggie took maternity leave, she went into nest-building overdrive and decided we needed a kitchen extension. She organised it all. It’s open-plan with a glass roof and fitted blinds. She chose the flooring tiles, lights and all the kitchen appliances. Now she wants a load of inside plants from the garden centre.’
‘It all sounds very costly,’ Hargreaves said.
Jack nodded. ‘I had to take out a bank loan and sell my car. Well, Maggie thought it was my car...’ Jack knew he was about to say something revealing but felt oddly comfortable with that. Perhaps because he knew his words would never leave this room. ‘It was a debt someone felt they owed me. Nothing illegal, but Maggie wouldn’t have approved.’
‘Jack...’ Hargreaves gave Jack a knowing smile. ‘Why are you here?’
Jack was about to go off on another tangent, then stopped himself. ‘I worry I might hurt Maggie.’
‘Just Maggie? Are your children safe?’
‘Of course they are.’
‘The aggression you feel — is it verbal or physical?’ Jack frowned as he struggled to find the answer. ‘Have you ever hit out? Lost control? Jack, have you ever physically attacked your wife?’
Jack looked horrified by the very thought. ‘Of course not!’
Hargreaves persisted. ‘But you think you could?’
‘Yes. It’s got so bad that some nights I sleep in a different room. I have no control over it. And recently, it’s got a lot worse. Punching, shouting and kicking out in my sleep.’
Hargreaves leaned back and sighed, wishing his train had not been late. Wishing he’d had time to read Jack’s notes more thoroughly. ‘You’re talking about night terrors.’
‘What did you think I meant?’ Jack said through clenched jaws. ‘That I’m a wife-beater?’
‘Sorry. I misunderstood what I read in the report.’
‘What did Maggie say to you?’
‘Not that, Jack. It was my error. I understand now. You’re in a deep sleep when these episodes occur. Do the nightmares occur frequently or just periodically?’
‘More frequent now. When I punch or kick out, it usually wakes me up. I’ve fallen out of bed plenty of times.’
‘Do you sleepwalk?’
‘No.’
Hargreaves nodded and made a note. ‘Have you had these problems since childhood?’
‘Not that I know of. Maggie said it started a few months ago.’
‘It could be due to the stress in your life right now. The upheaval in your home and a new baby. I want to book you an overnight appointment at a sleep clinic as soon as possible.’ As Hargreaves made a note of this, Jack rolled his eyes. He wanted answers now. Not in a week. A month. Longer? ‘You will be wired up to monitor your brain activity, as well as heart rate and eye and leg movement throughout the night. They will also watch your sleeping behaviour on CCTV. What we find out will allow me to understand your sleep disorder better, then we can discuss how best to control it. How does that sound?’
‘Whatever it takes to stop the nightmares,’ Jack said. ‘And to keep Maggie safe.’
‘You’re still on leave at the moment?’
‘My sick note’s almost up, I think. Do I get another from you?’
Hargreaves smiled. ‘Ironically, they are now called fit notes. Speak to your GP about that.’
The session continued for another thirty minutes, but Jack didn’t invest too heavily in any of it. Once he’d discovered that Hargreaves was too stupid to read his notes properly, Jack had kept things quite superficial. He had given no indication of the torment that sometimes felt like a hurricane raging inside his head. He’d decided to keep that hidden or he’d be written off as mentally unstable. He was surprised Hargreaves had not asked about the content of his nightmares, not that Jack would have told him. Revealing that he had tried to strangle Rodney Middleton with a shoelace and felt an uncontrollable compulsion to destroy him on behalf of the unidentified victims would definitely not be a good idea.
Maggie, dressed in leggings and a vest top, was in the newly built kitchen extension checking on a pot roast. She beamed when she saw Jack.
‘Hannah is at the park with Penny. The workmen have another couple of days on the loft extension before they start decorating, and Piglet is flat out after his last feed. I’m going to start feeding him bottled milk as well.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he’s constantly hungry and I can’t express enough milk... And I miss wine.’
Jack wrapped her in a bear hug and kissed her neck. ‘You’re back in terrific shape and looking gorgeous. We deserve the odd glass of wine in the evening. Just me and you.’
Grinning, Maggie squirmed free and flicked a tea-towel at him. ‘Before I forget, I got an email from Hargreaves. You have an appointment at a sleep clinic at ten tomorrow. I printed it out... it’s on the table.’
Jack went to the table to read the email. He’d got used to their cramped kitchen and it felt strange to have so much space now.
‘So, what did Hargreaves say?’ Maggie asked as she stuck a thermometer into the pot roast.
‘Reckons I have some sort of sleep disorder which, let’s face it, isn’t exactly news! Apparently the sleep clinic monitors my brain and stuff while I’m sleeping, so I’ll have to stay the night.’
‘Did you explain what the nightmares are about?’
‘He didn’t ask. He was late for my appointment. And he didn’t read the report you sent him. He thought I was attacking you when I was awake.’ Maggie shook her head — she’d hoped Jack would have been impressed with Hargreaves, making him more likely to go back.
‘Well, at least he booked the sleep clinic. They’ll help find answers.’
‘Let’s hope so. Oh, and I need a sick note from our GP, or did he say from the sleep clinic. Can’t remember.’ The baby monitor kicked in, emitting a low gurgling sound.
‘Can you go check on him? He might settle when he sees you. I’ll prep the veg then come up.’
Jack deftly circumnavigated the dust sheets covering the stairs and landing. Stacks of paint tins and tools were propped along the walls and stairs leading to the second floor where the men were still working on the loft extension. Jack edged around them to move aside a plastic sheet covering the door to the newly refurbished nursery, which had once been Hannah’s bedroom. It had now been extended to include an en suite bathroom. An alcove led into the next room, where Hannah’s bed, wardrobes and toys occupied one side. There was a new carpet, freshly painted walls, pretty curtains and blinds.
When Maggie had first returned from the hospital, Hannah had thrown a tantrum and demanded that she take ‘the piglet’ back. But as the days passed, she’d become more accepting of her brother’s presence and even seemed to like being a big sister. She was also excited to be starting prep school and especially looked forward to getting her new uniform and hat with a band and a badge on it.
Leaning over the cot, Jack stared at his handsome son lying on his back, his arms splayed out to the side and fists curled like a cherub. He had a robust, healthy appearance, with a round face, blue eyes and thick, curly blond hair, though his eyelashes were dark. He was growing quickly, and Jack knew it wouldn’t be long before the bassinet was too small for him. Jack jumped as Maggie slipped her arms around his waist. She had watched from the archway, touched at the look of adoration on his face.