Page 38 of No Safe Place
He forced a smile. ‘Did I tell you we delivered a baby in the van last week?’
‘Yep,’ she said, adjusting the blanket. ‘Amazing.’
She braced herself for the next question. ‘And how is the revision going?’
‘Yeah, good,’ he said vaguely, suddenly engrossed in the drama onMarried at First Sight.
All the horrific things she’d seen at work – abuse victims and mutilated bodies and people wasting away from drugs or disease or sheer poverty – and nothing had terrified her more than Toby’s illness. There was no darker period in her life.
It was the speed of it all that scared her – one day he was a happy fourteen-year-old and almost overnight he was catatonic, unresponsive. Locked in his own brain. The pressure of exams, and coursework – the long essays he found it difficult to concentrate on.
She’d made it clear that she couldn’t give a shit whether he passed or failed the lot; he didn’t need to make himself ill over his marks. But it made no difference.
Toby had forgiven her, for the things she’d said to him when she was at her most desperate. The day she’d cracked and screamed at him.
You’re selfish. Attention-seeking.
It’s not that hard. Just get the fuck up.
And worse.
Toby forgave her, but his father never had. During their divorce he’d made bitter swipes at her, accused her of being an unfit mother.
It was all ancient history now – more than half of Toby’s life ago. But Field was always watching, always looking for evidence that they were on the precipice of another downturn.
Toby laughed at something on the screen, and she shot a sideways look at him.
Three years ago, he’d given up his comfortable job, workingin phlebotomy at the hospital, to do a Paramedic Science degree at Greenwich Uni.
She’d seen less of him, in the last year, as the workload intensified, and he went out on more placements. Harder to keep a gauge how he was doing when he was on a run of nights, and she was in court for a week straight.
As if he could sense her thoughts on him, Toby turned to her. ‘You okay, Mum?’
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Tired. Thinking about work.’
Was he still going to therapy? Still taking meds? She didn’t know how to ask him.
What would she do, if it happened again? If Toby got ill? He wasn’t a child anymore. She couldn’t force him to get help.
Maybe if Toby had met David Moore when he was ill, if she’d taken him to a good psychologist, it would never have got as bad as it did.
No.
She couldn’t entertain those thoughts, and she couldn’t let this case get personal.
‘You look done in, Mum,’ he said, touching a hand to her cheek. ‘Bed?’
Field wanted to be in at the crack of dawn, and she could barely keep her eyes open.
She liked it when Toby stayed over. On the phone he never called it “her house”, it was always “our place”, even though he hadn’t lived here for years.
She liked knowing he was safe and warm in his childhood bedroom – painted magnolia now.
She kissed the top of Toby’s head again, unable to resist.
‘Bed.’
Chapter 19
