His Silence - Chapter 41

There’s a bitter taste in my mouth when my eyes flutter open. The sun’s blazing through the window ahead of me, warming my face. For a moment I panic, I grip the bedsheets and bang my head on the headboard as I pull myself up, then I remember where I am. Mum’s dress I wore last night, is hanging from the handle on the wardrobe to my left. The last thing I remember is hitting my head on the table at dinner and passing out. What the hell happened to me? Who brought me back here and got me out of my clothes? My phone’s lying on my bedside cabinet, I pick it up, it’s just gone nine a.m. Shit, there are several texts from Emma, I forgot to text her yesterday.

Hope flight was alright?

How’s the hotel?

I know you’re probably tired but text me as soon as you see this. You’re making me worried xx

Heart thudding I type a reply out to Emma and press send.

All good, sorry was absolutely shattered when we landed. Forgot to text.

Flinging off my covers, I dive into the bathroom. There’s no way I want to stay here for the full three months I was planning to. I want to find out the answers I need and leave.

When I leave my bedroom, I notice Oliver’s bedroom door is shut. I consider knocking, but decide against it, the last thing I want right now is to get into a conversation with him.

I trudge up the pathway towards the house. Even though I’m not planning on staying here long term, it still feels weird not being asked to do anything to help out. They obviously didn’t want me to help out with breakfast; otherwise someone would’ve come and woken me up.

‘Ah you’re awake.’ It’s Mary who greets me when I open the kitchen door, making me jump. ‘Oh, sorry I didn’t mean to startle you. How are you feeling? You gave us all a bit of scare last night.’

‘I’m fine. What happened last night?’ I ask, unable to stop myself from rubbing my forehead.

The door connecting the kitchen and the dining room creaks open. The man I spoke to, before I passed out, walks through, carrying a bowl. His eyes meet mine for a brief second, and then he turns his gaze away. There’s no way I can question him, not with Mary standing here. I’m certain whatever we discuss she’ll tell Jeremiah and Oliver about it. He doesn’t make eye contact with me again as he heads out of the room and into the hallway.

‘You had a bit of a funny turn,’ Mary says, concern in her voice. She’s appraising me like a school nurse does, checking me over for any signs I might still be unwell. ‘Oliver carried you back and I got you all sorted for bed, I hope you don’t mind.’

‘No, no, it’s fine,’ I say, the back of my neck prickling. God the thought of Oliver carrying me back makes me feel sick. I would’ve preferred it if it had been Callum, but something tells me Oliver would’ve dismissed that idea. ‘I’m just going to grab some breakfast.’

‘I’ll see you later, Danielle,’ Mary says, still fixing me with a concerned stare.

I enter the dining room, rubbing my arms. Oliver and Jeremiah are both sitting at the head of the table, talking quietly to each other. My stomach sinks. Perhaps I should grab something to eat and take it back to the annexe.

‘Danielle,’ Oliver says waving his hand. Can’t he just allow me to have some toast in peace? ‘Please join me; I hope you’re feeling better.’

My eyes flick around the room. Where’s Callum? I thought he would’ve wanted to have waited around for me. He must be upstairs.

‘Erm yeah, I am, thanks. Mary just told me that you carried me back last night after I collapsed,’ I say. I shuffle over towards him, and sit beside him.

‘I’ll sort you something out,’ Oliver says, picking up some toast and the butter. He begins to scrape it onto the bread. The wild flowers that decorated the table last night are still strewn across the table cloth. ‘You gave us all a bit of scare last night when you passed out like that.’

‘Think I scared myself, perhaps I still wasn’t quite recovered from what happened earlier on,’ I say, laughing slightly.

Oliver places a plate of toast in front of me. I can’t stomach the thought of eating, but there’s no way I want to pass out again. I need to eat something to keep my strength up if I’m going to get through the day.

‘Perhaps, coming back here, has stirred up some old memories that you may thought you had forgotten. I should’ve foreseen that,’ he says sitting back in his seat. ‘But that’s something we can work on in our sessions together.’

I take a bite of my toast, it’s not quite well done enough for my liking, but I continue to eat it anyway. There’s no way I’m going to say that to Oliver. ‘Honestly I think yesterday was just a bit overwhelming for me, but I’m glad I’m here Oliver, I really am, and I want to be an active member of the community.’

He nods. ‘I understand, Danielle. But I think to truly help you move on from your past, I think you need to choose a new name, like everyone else here has.’

Nausea skitters through me. Except you, I think to myself. ‘I hadn’t thought of changing my name,’ I say softly.

‘I think it would really help you, Danielle. You could, if I might suggest, go back to the name your birth parents gave you when you were born, Grace. I think it suits you much better than Danielle.’

I shift in my seat. He wants me to agree to it now; I can see it in his eyes. My stomach squirms. I don’t want to change my name; I like the name I have. I swallow. It’s like he’s trying to claim ownership of me. ‘If you think that’s the best thing,’ I say.

He smiles at me. ‘I really do, Grace,’ he says. Shit he’s already using my old name, I’m going to have to get used to this, I don’t think he’s going to give me much of a choice. ‘Also, I know we talked about having another session today, but I’d just like you to take things easy. I get you might be keen to become more integrated with what we do here, but we can start to look at ways at how you can help out in the coming days. Is that OK?’

‘Sure.’ I take another bite of toast. A headache’s beginning to form now. I think back to my conversation with the man last night, I can’t believe I still don’t even know his name. Should I ask Oliver? I decide against it, I don’t want Oliver getting suspicious. At least, so far, Oliver hasn’t asked me what I really got up to last night, when I left the table, so at least that’s something.

But if Callum noticed I’d followed him outside, surely Oliver must’ve as well?