A Bleak December Read online

  I’m not sure what he’s looking for exactly and I’m not convinced he knows either.

  “It needs to be the most perfect present... good enough to wake her up.”

  He’s going to be so disappointed come Christmas Day when she doesn’t, but I can’t bring myself to burst his precious, little bubble.

  Thomas, I’m not sure any present we buy can wake her up, I tell him in my head.

  I’m a far better guardian to the small child inside my own mind than the one standing in front of me. There I get it right, but in reality, I get it all wrong.

  I look up and spot my boss, Tristan Riggens across the department store. He’s with a friend. They look like they are joking about.

  It’s so bizarre to see him outside of work.

  As Thomas searches for the perfect gift, I covertly watch Riggens. His smile is so real, bone-deep in that way that only people who have been happy for years seem to be able to pull off.

  His eyes dart towards me and I quickly avert my gaze, looking down at the book Thomas is trying to show me.

  “We could get this...” He is saying. “It’s not the perfect gift but you could read it to her. She likes it when you read to us.”

  Seriously! My brother has got to stop saying things that bring me to tears. He doesn’t know that she probably can’t hear us. He doesn’t know that the doctors are putting the pressure on to turn off her oxygen.

  They say she’s gone.

  They say soon her organs will fail.

  They say the only things keeping her body alive are the tubes and machines.

  She’s not there anymore, that’s what they say, but this little, beautiful, five-year-old boy doesn’t know that, and I don’t have the heart to tell him.

  How do you tell a child that their mother will never kiss them goodnight again? Or sing to them when they’re sick? Or play chase in the garden? Or tell them she loves them?

  It’s all come to a head and I don’t know how to say what I need to say... I don’t know how to be what he needs.

  I’m flailing stupidly as I try to keep all the broken pieces our little family together. It’s like trying to fix a broken mirror. The pieces keep cutting me as I try to glue them back together.

  I can’t fix this.

  “Miss Winthrope?” A warm, baritone voice says from somewhere behind me.

  I turn on my heels to find my boss standing right there, not a foot between us.

  “Mr Riggens.”

  “Who’s your friend, Winthrope?”

  He points his chin towards my little brother.

  “I’m Thomas Winthrope,” Thomas says in his most pretentious voice. He pushes his hand towards Riggens for him to shake.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Winthrope,” Tristan Riggens responds as he shakes my brother’s hand.

  “Who are you?”

  The polite manners of two seconds ago are long gone but the ostentatious tone of his voice remains.

  “I’m Tristan.”

  “And how do you know, Ella?”

  Looks like we’re playing twenty-one question.

  “We work together,” he answers as he drops to a squat so he can look my brother clear in the eye. “What have you got there?”

  He points towards the book my brother is now clutching to his chest.

  “A book, my mum’s favourite... Ella is going to read it to her.”

  Tristan looks up at me before returning his attention to Thomas.

  “Does your mum like it when Ella reads to her?”

  “Very much.”

  I will not cry. I will not cry. I repeat the words over and over, like a mantra in my mind.

  “How is your dog, Ella?” Tristan asks.

  “Er... he’s okay.”

  Thomas is looking at me like I’m completely bonkers. He opens his mouth to speak but I quickly continue, “much better now.”

  Riggens nods his head at me.

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr Winthrope.”

  “You too, Tristan.”

  My brother smiles up at Tristan. It’s a smile I very rarely see any more. Tristan Riggens walks away from us; my brother and I watching his every step.

  “Is he your boyfriend?”

  I laugh sharply.

  “No. He’s my boss.”

  Chapter Four – Tristan

  “Is he your boyfriend?” I hear Thomas ask as I walk away.

  I secretly wish that I could stand and listen to her response, but I can’t. My idiot of a friend is tapping his watch, impatiently waiting for me. He’s absolutely convinced that getting engaged is a good idea.

  “We need to try somewhere else,” Walker says to me when I reach him. “There’s absolutely nothing here.”

  I look around. There are plenty of engagement rings. Perhaps none I would personally buy but heck, I’m not about to purchase an engagement ring, period!

  “Well, where should we go?”

  To be honest, I’d never thought you should simply just buy the first ring you like. I’d always thought you were meant to take your time, find something you think she’d love.

  “I’m not really sure what you are looking for.”

  “Yeah... me neither.” He frowns. “She’s so fussy.”

  If you ask me, if you don’t know what ring your girlfriend wants, you probably don’t know her well enough o be getting engaged. I know what sort of ring my assistant would probably want. She’s quite blingy. She’d go for a big, shiny piece of WOW.

  I glance back to where Ella Winthrope is still stood with her brother.

  I even think I know what sort of ring Ella would want. She’s quaint and regal. She’d want something unobtrusive, modest... perhaps an antique.

  I watch as she giggles at whatever Thomas is telling her. She doesn’t really look happy though and I can’t place why.

  Ella Winthrope manages to arrive to work on time two days in a row but on Thursday it all falls apart. It’s the fourth of December and I’m on my way out of my office, going in search of coffee, when she comes barrelling out of the lift.

  “Winthrope!” I bellow at her. “My office. Ten minutes.”

  Her chest deflates as she realises she has already been caught.

  “Yes, sir.”

  She drops all of her stuff on her desk before making her way towards my office.

  I offer one look to my assistant Norah, silently pleading with her to fetch me a coffee, before following after Ella. She’s waiting just outside the door to my office when I get there. Opening it for her, I gesture for her to take a seat.

  “Why are you late?”

  I’m not about to beat around the bush. I’ve been clear about this. She needed to do better.

  “I...” She stumbles on her words.

  I’ve never heard her stutter before. She’s normally sure and confident.

  “I got waylaid.”

  “That’s all you’re going to say? You got waylaid?”

  I’m fuming. I deserve a proper explanation. I’m her boss, for god’s sake.

  “You’re going to have to give me more than that, Ella.”

  I try the gentle approach.

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “You can’t tell me?” I close my eyes and count to ten. “Well, if you can’t tell me, perhaps you can tell HR.” I don’t know what else to do. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

  There are tears in her eyes, tears that shouldn’t belong there.

  “What’s happened?” I try again but she offers me nothing in response.

  “I had to...”

  “Is Thomas okay?” I ask because I can only imagine that there has been an emergency of some sort for her to be this messed up about it.

  Weird scenarios seem to follow this girl around but she’s never once cried over them. She didn’t cry when her dog ate a condom – then again who would? I almost laugh just thinking about it.

  She didn’t cry when she was late because she got locked out of her h
ouse or when she had that severe allergy that meant she had to go to the hospital. Nothing when she told us that there was a nasty wasp in her bedroom or when she told us that the car behind her was following her.

  She hadn’t batted so much as an eyelid when she’s told the whole team how a teen had stolen her handbag and she’d had to chase after him. She’d had all sorts of reasons and excuses, but she’d never shown even an inch of emotion until today. Although, I’m still not convinced how many of her excuses were actually real and how many were lies she concocted on the spot.

  “Thomas?”

  She’s lost, barely paying attention to me.

  “Thomas, your brother?”

  “He’s at school.”

  “Okay. Your mum?”

  Her eyes go wide but she doesn’t divulge anything.

  “Everything is fine. I was just late. I’m sorry.”

  She shakes off whatever she is trying to hide from me.

  “I’ll make up the time and you can...” She breathes deeply. “You can report me to HR. I’m sorry.”

  “Fine.” I can’t help her if she’s going to be so stubborn. “Get back to work.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  She doesn’t need telling twice. She’s out my door in a shot, leaving me confused and frustrated. I just can’t comprehend what is going on with her. Until the other night, I hadn’t even known she had a brother or a mother for that matter.

  She isn’t one for sharing; not with me or anyone else on the team, except perhaps Sadie Reed. They always seem to be in each other’s pockets. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to ask Sadie though.

  I feel like it might be stepping over some invisible line.

  I glance out to where Sadie is hovering over Ella’s desk. Ella smiles sadly at her and Sadie extends a hand out to grasp Ella’s shoulder. It’s the closest she can get to hugging the girl during office hours.

  Something is definitely wrong.

  Chapter Five – Ella

  This morning Thomas insisted on taking the book to the hospital. He was desperate for mum to see how much he thought of her and I couldn’t refuse him.

  We sat there in that tiny, dark hospital room, Thomas on the bed, hugging mum as best he could, while I sat in the chair beside the bed, holding her hand, and reading her favourite book aloud. Tears were pouring freely down Thomas’s face as he clutched onto the corpse that once was his mother.

  I shouldn’t think that. She’s still alive. Except there is no hope.

  Just as I was about to tell Thomas it was time to go, the monitor that recorded our mother’s heartbeat started beeping quicker than it had been, before it abruptly stopped.

  My own heart seemed to stop right along with it as I rang the emergency bell, screaming for a doctor.

  I pulled my brother off the bed; I was a panicky mess and Thomas was sobbing, but I couldn’t comfort him, not when she was dying right in front of our eyes, and I wasn’t ready.

  “DOCTOR!” I shouted out into the ward.

  It took them split seconds to respond but in my mind it took hours.

  I’m not ready, the words were a constant loop inside my head.

  I pulled my brother into my arms and followed a nurse out into the hallway.

  I watched at the window as they worked on my mum. Shocking her again and again until her heart responded, her body jumping off the bed momentarily before crashing back down again, over and over again.

  Thomas told me to tell them off.

  “They’re hurting her!”

  “They’re trying to save her, baby boy.”

  “It looks like they are hurting her.”

  “I promise, they’re not.”

  My words were true and yet I couldn’t help but think that we were hurting her, keeping her here. She was gone, the doctors had told me as much, but I was holding out for a miracle that each day seemed to drift further away.

  Afterwards, the doctor spoke to me, saying the exact same thing he’d been saying for the last week and a half.

  “I think it’s time to prepare yourself and Thomas. Perhaps call your sister home?”

  I had no words to respond to what he was telling me. Instead, I picked up my brother and carried him out of the hospital. I took him to school where we sat in the car for a solid twenty minutes.

  After an age of silence, Thomas asked me something I wasn’t ready to answer.

  “Ella?”

  “Yes, Thomas?” I answered instinctively, although my brain was still in the hospital room with our dying mother.

  “Is mummy dying?”

  His voice was frail and quiet. He sounded defeated in a way no five-year-old had a business being. It was my responsibility to keep him smiling, hopeful... I was failing him.

  “I think so,” I whispered.

  I heard him undo his seat belt and climb out of his chair, but I didn’t tell him off or move to get out of the car. I should have been walking him into the school, like the guardian was supposed to be.

  Instead, I just sat there with my head bowed.

  He climbed into the front of the car. Again, I should have corrected his behaviour or something, but I couldn’t bring myself to act. He climbed into my lap and wrapped his arms around me.

  “It will be okay, Big Sister Ella. I’ll look after you.”

  Now I’m at work but I’m unfocused and completely bewildered.

  “What happened?” Sadie asks as I organise my stuff. “Why were you so late? Is your mum okay?”

  I shrug my shoulders, unsure how to respond. She leans forward, resting a hand on my shoulder.

  “What can I do?” she questions but I can’t answer her.

  There’s nothing she can do.

  “I just need to work,” I dismiss her.

  I stand to my feet and head towards the ladies’ toilets. I need five minutes, five minutes to break. The second the cubicle door locks behind me, I crumble down to the ground. My shoulders shudder with sobs that I can’t let out.

  I cry silent tears, scream silent agony, as I hold it in, again.

  My five-year-old brother is handling this better than I am.

  It’s time, the doctor’s words ring in my ear, destroying me all over again. What if I’m not ready?

  After five minutes, I push myself to my feet. I wash my face to try and hide the tears that I can’t seem to stop crying. Time to work. I need to focus before Riggens kills me.

  I plaster a large smile on my face and make my way out of the toilets.

  Riggens is stood talking to Clara Delos, the other account director on this floor. He frowns at me briefly before turning away. Sadie’s eyes are on me too.

  I walk calmly to my desk and try to lose myself in my work. I look at my computer screen and work my way through my emails, but I’m not paying them any attention. I’m trying to work out how I can make this better for Thomas.

  I google helping children cope with grief... the death of a parent... and everything else that I can think of but none of it helps. I’m still completely lost and overwhelmed.

  I consider calling Tia and asking her to come home, but I’m not sure if she’d be able to help. Then the doctor’s words come back to me and I realise I have no choice.

  She needs to know it’s time.

  Chapter Six – Tristan

  What the hell is going on? She looks a wreck.

  I watch her from where I’m standing, talking to Clara. Her hand is shaking as it hovers over the keyboard. Her eyes close and she takes a deep breath.

  Her shoulders are hunched over as if she’s close to crumbling. Everything inside me wants to run over to her and catch her in my arms before she falls, even my toes are inching towards her.

  Except, I can’t.

  I’m her boss, not her friend and definitely not her boyfriend, so instead, I do the only thing I can do. I ask a colleague for a favour.

  “Clara,” I cut across whatever Clara Delos was just telling me, “I need your help.”

  She’s surprise
d. I don’t usually ask for help. In the months since I started here, I think I can probably count on one hand the number of times I’ve asked her for help. Clara is married to one of the top bosses of the company, and they are having a baby. She’s got a happy glow all around her and she deserves it. She’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever known.

  “What do you need?” She doesn’t hesitate.

  “Ella Winthrope was late again today,” I tell her.

  Her eyes dart towards Ella’s desk, her gaze critical, expression stern.

  “What was her reason this time?”

  Ella’s excuses are well known throughout the company.

  “She refused to give me one.”

  Clara frowns.

  “That’s odd. Do you know...” She sighs before continuing. “I asked Andrew about it once.”

  Andrew, Clara’s husband used to do my job before being promoted to COO.

  “He couldn’t believe it. He genuinely didn’t believe me that she is always late.”

  “What?” Her words aren’t adding up. “You’re joking, right?”

  “No. He seriously said that in all the time he worked with her, he couldn’t remember a day where she wasn’t on time.”

  “Then...” What the fuck?

  My eyes drift back to Ella. She’s on the phone, probably talking to a client. She looks composed enough, perhaps just a little tired, but I know better.

  She is anything but fine.

  “When did she change? Why did she change?” I’m talking more to myself than to Clara, as I watch Winthrope rub her forehead, glancing anxiously back my way.

  I consider looking away but I don’t.

  I want her to know that I’m concerned.

  Something is wrong and I’m going to get to the bottom of it.

  “I don’t know,” Clara responds. “It’s really too bizarre. Anyway, what was it you needed help with?”

  “Can you talk to her?” I ask, barely taking my eyes off the pretty girl whose shoulders are slouched so low she is bound to have a sore back tomorrow. “Find out what is wrong? She won’t talk to me but maybe...”

  “Maybe she’ll talk to me?” Clara looks disbelieving.