must have thought me very rude. Laura and I had had a few words. I imagine she’s told you why.’
‘Not really, no. She was upset after you left, not making much sense, to be honest. She mentioned something about a long-ago incident and the police being involved, no more than that. The thing is …’ he paused, taking an audible breath, ‘she seems reluctant to reveal much about her family history. Scared, even, and I can’t help wondering why, and whether it’s something she’s still struggling to deal with.’
Sherry drew in a sharp breath of her own. She’d guessed he would ask, eventually, it being so obvious that Laura was struggling.
‘I’m not trying to poke my nose in where it’s not wanted, or to upset anyone,’ he went on as she debated how to answer, how much she should tell him, ‘but I’m concerned for her. I want to try and help her, but without the facts …’
‘Yes, I imagine you do,’ Sherry said at length. ‘We all do, but Laura’s so determined she doesn’t need our help.’ She paused, a combination of long-suppressed grief and anger sweeping through her as she recalled how Laura had retreated into herself after the ‘incident’, as her daughter had termed it. Would that it was just that, something that had occurred that had a beginning and an end. It seemed to Sherry that it would never be over, that the nightmare would never end. She’d felt so powerless to help Laura afterwards. The girl had barely spoken, unless to mumble and stammer. Barely ate, staying shut in her room, no matter how much she and Grant had tried to persuade her to come out. When she had finally emerged, it was to tear their world further apart, traumatising them all over again with her nightclubbing, drinking and drug-taking. Sherry had almost been glad when she’d left. She’d soon realised she couldn’t lose contact with her daughter, though, that she would always have to keep tabs on her, know where she was, how she was, what she was doing and thinking.
Taking another breath, she attempted to compose herself. She doubted this young man would be easily fobbed off. ‘You know she sleepwalks?’ she asked, guessing that by now, he would.
‘That’s partly why I’ve called,’ he said, his tone cautious. ‘Also to ask why you two have fallen out so badly. You obviously care about her, or you wouldn’t have sought her out.’
‘I do, very much. I want to be there for her, but …’ She faltered. It was too complicated to explain how impossible it was to be there for Laura when the girl had steadfastly accused her of never being there for her. Sherry had given birth to her at eighteen years old, for goodness’ sake; a dreadfully difficult birth – Laura had been a difficult child since the day she was conceived. Before she’d met Grant, she had worked her fingers to the bone to feed and clothe her daughter and keep a roof over her head when she realised the man she’d stupidly moved in with had only one skill in life: collecting debts to fund his drinking habit. Her days – depressing, dark, lonely days – had been filled with soiled nappies and endless crying, her nights spent on the production line at the biscuit factory. She’d lost her second baby there – she swallowed back the hurt and humiliation fresh in her throat – right there on the factory floor. And Laura had the nerve to say she’d never cared for her? Of course she had. She would always care, if only the stubborn girl would realise it. Could she not understand that she was simply trying to protect her? That she was scared for her? She didn’t know how long she could go on like this, though. She pressed a hand to her badly palpitating chest. The stress really was too much. Her blood pressure was rising so rapidly she was sure she could feel the blood pumping.
‘She seems to be searching for someone,’ the man continued carefully. ‘When she sleepwalks, she appears to be trying to find someone. She had another episode last night. I found her in the garden.’
‘But she doesn’t remember anything?’ Sherry checked.
‘I doubt it,’ he said, sighing tiredly. ‘I haven’t spoken to her yet, she’s still sleeping, but she generally has no recollection whatsoever.’
‘She gets confused,’ she explained. ‘I suspect the sedatives are largely to blame.’