‘I’ll do it,’ he said.
Jane happily demurred. Felix nearly always took charge of bedtime duties. Even his drinking rarely got in the way of that.
She went back to the kitchen to make dinner for them both, leaving the door open so that she could hear the cheery sounds from upstairs. First the splashes and shrieks emulating from the bathroom, and then, later, the low hum of Felix’s voice as he read the twins a bedtime story. This was a nighty ritual at which Felix was also rather good.
The whole thing usually took around an hour.
By the time she heard her husband’s footsteps on the stairs, Jane had set the little table in the conservatory, with its panoramic views across Bideford Bay, where they almost always ate when alone, and made a green salad which she placed in the centre of it. Two decent-sized sirloin steaks from their local butcher were marinating in oil and seasoning ready to be sizzled in the griddle pan waiting on the hob. A tray of chips in the oven were about to brown. There was fruit and ice cream for afters.
Jane had never been what she called a proper cook. And she was certainly no match for Felix, on the rare occasions nowadays when he made the effort. But she was reasonably adept at putting good healthy meals together, and, by popular demand, sometimes not so healthy ones for the children. Felix always said that he loved her cooking. Mind you, he would say that, wouldn’t he, if it meant he didn’t have to do it. Jane smiled indulgently. However, she knew she cooked a mean steak, and that this simple meal was a favourite of Felix’s.
She lit the gas burner beneath the griddle pan and turned to face Felix as he entered the kitchen. He was smiling. He had a lovely smile, Jane thought, which rarely failed to lift her spirits, even if only a little.
‘You’d never guess what little Stevie just said to me... ’ he began. ‘I told him I loved him and he said, “I love me too, Daddy.”’
‘Oh, that’s funny, Felix,’ Jane said.
‘I know,’ Felix replied, smiling that smile again. ‘Maybe we’ve bred a stand-up comic.’
‘Maybe we have,’ responded Jane. ‘Although it might be just a little early to start booking theatres.’
Felix remained in the kitchen with her until the steaks were cooked and plated, then picked them up and carried them into the conservatory.
He began to tuck into his meal at once, somewhat unusually not returning to the kitchen to select a bottle of wine from the rack. Jane was glad about that, although she would have made no comment had he done so. But she knew that if he consumed any more alcohol after a heavy earlier session he would become quite drunk again almost immediately.
An old friend of her late mother’s, who’d had an alcoholic husband, called it the chemical tip. Not that Felix was an alcoholic, she reminded herself. And even if he were, that would surely be her fault too.
But, just for the moment, she really was not going to let her thoughts drift down that particular road.
This was turning into the kind of evening when she almost began to believe that they could be a normal family again, living a normal family life.
Felix was behaving quite like the old Felix. She made a conscious effort to try to behave like the old Jane, instead of the angst-ridden neurotic she knew she had become.
After dinner they watched a movie, sitting together on the sofa, not quite the way they used to, when Felix would wrap a long arm around her and she would settle contentedly into his nook. But it felt to her that they were close that evening. Both physically and mentally.
Indeed, so much so that Jane wondered if Felix might make a move towards the love-making which had once been at the very core of their marriage, and was now such a rare event.
Or even if she might dare make a move on him? Something she would once never have hesitated to do. But nowadays she feared rejection too much. She believed, or certainly she hoped, that Felix did not reject her because he no longer wanted her. No. He rejected her, or at least showed no active desire to make love to her, because of his fear of what would come after. The sleep which would surely follow. The sleep which brought her no rest at all. And all too often destroyed his.
But perhaps tonight would be different. She had been ten days, a whole ten days, without a problem. She had, of course, barely allowed herself to sleep. Nonetheless, could this be the start of a new beginning?
The movie ended. Felix turned to her, reached for her hand. Her hopes rose. Her heart soared.
Unfortunately, Jane’s hopes were about to be dashed. In every possible way. This was the night that was to change everything. This was Black Monday.
‘That was fun,’ remarked Felix with a smile. ‘I’ll go on up then. Let’s hope for a peaceful one, eh?’
Jane smiled back, careful not to show her disappointment. She knew exactly what he meant, of course, but neither of them liked to talk about it.
‘Yes,’ she murmured obliquely. ‘I’ll be right behind you.’
She watched him make his way from the room, trying to move softly, as they both did after the children’s bedtime.
Jane had for some time been all too aware of the cracks in their perfect life. And continued to believe the blame lay almost entirely with her.
She couldn’t even remember when it all began. However hard she tried. Not exactly anyway. And she had no idea of the cause. Although sometimes she didn’t think Felix believed that.
There appeared to be little she could do about it. The nights were worse, of course, far worse, but the fear was always with her, twenty-four-seven. All day long it wrapped itself around her like a blanket of ice-cold fog. And it had been so much worse lately, since the cause of it all had so very nearly revealed itself to her.
At night the fear tightened its grip until she felt as if she were being suffocated, until she believed that she could no longer draw breath. Indeed, in her blackest moments, she thought that was what would ultimately happen. That she would just stop breathing. At least it would all be over then.
Bedtime had become an ordeal. Felix remained kind and supportive. Most of the time. But she could see the strain within him, eating him up. She was asking too much of him. And she knew it.
She rose from the sofa and walked from the sitting room into the kitchen, then back again, several times, keeping her footsteps light, taking long deep breaths. Exhaling slowly. Inhaling again. She had been told that she should ensure that she controlled her breathing before attempting to sleep. That she needed to develop a rhythm, a discipline, in order to contain the more extreme ramifications of her mind.
She gave Felix fifteen minutes or so before following him upstairs. She didn’t want to cause him the embarrassment of feeling he had to pretend to be asleep when she entered their bedroom, as she knew only too well that he had on a number of occasions.
She moved as quietly as Felix had done, slipping almost imperceptibly into the room. The bedroom door always stood ajar and the light from the landing was left on after dark, in case the children, or indeed anyone else, stirred in the night. Felix’s face was gently illuminated.
She could see that he was already sound asleep in the big double bed. And he definitely was not pretending.
His chest rose and fell in perfect rhythm. He was lying on his back. Felix, although his hair was a light sandy blonde and his complexion fair, had a heavy beard. His chin already bore a faint shadow which would need immediate attention in the morning. Felix would shave as soon as he rose. He did not subscribe to the modern style of designer stubble. He was more the clean-cut type, square jawed, classically handsome, like the hero of an old-fashioned boys’ comic.
Jane smiled. She loved Felix, and told herself she should not doubt that he still loved her. In spite of everything.