the truth is heavier than fiction

'Sometimes it was harder to change the past than it was the future.'
Kate Atkinson, Life After Life

It was something she did every day, without fail, walking the boundary, checking that all the sheep were where they were supposed to be, checking their hooves, making sure the walls were still in good nick, that the weather hadn't damaged them. She never really felt like her day was properly started until she'd done it, she felt unsettled, a feeling like she'd left the gas on when she'd already left the house.

Today was no different. The wind was whipping up like nobody's business, rain slanting sideways, an annoyance, nothing more - but all the sheep were accounted for, and she felt at peace with everything. She wrapped her arms around her, the rain wicking off her overalls and running off.

'Lovely morning for it.'

She looked behind her. Caroline was there, in her sharp clothes, handbag on arm, high-heels sinking into the mud, looking comically out of place. She was puzzled why she was there. They usually talked on the phone, and not all too often. Usually when there was something to talk about, which as far as Gillian was aware, there wasn't.

'Yeah,' she said, leaning against the dry stone wall she'd carefully constructed twelve years previously. She and Eddie had done it, but she didn't like thinking about Eddie, let alone attributing things she still had to live with to him. 'I've got nowt else to do now. Want a cuppa?'

She wanted to ask Caroline why she was here, but she had a feeling she wasn't going to like the answer.

'That would be lovely.'

She opened the gate, casting one last look at the sheep, slipping her hands into her pockets, protecting them from the biting wind. Caroline turned as she got nearer and then they started walking, side by side, back towards the farm house.

'How's me dad?'

'He's fine. He and my mother have gone into Harrogate today. For shopping, I think. She was very vague.'

Gillian nodded. 'Yeah, he mentioned it yesterday. For William's birthday or something.'

'Yes. The big twenty. God, how do I have a twenty year old son?' Caroline laughed, shaking her head.

'I know. It's scary. Our Raff's married and a dad.' Something flashed across Caroline's face at the mention of Raff, and Gillian looked down at her shoes, kicking at the dirt as they got closer to the house.

'I'll go put kettle on.' She left Caroline behind, she thought maybe she knew why Caroline was here, and she didn't want to talk about it.

'Gillian-'

She got the front door, and turned back.

'Let me put the kettle on, Caroline. Then I'll talk about Raff with you. If that's what you're here for. That is why you're here?'

Caroline stopped a little way away from the door, thinking for a moment. Gillian folded her arms, waiting for a reply.

'It is about Raff. Alan - your dad - mentioned something-' She trailed off. 'I'll wait for the tea.'

Gillian nodded, lingered for a moment and then ducked inside.

...

'It's all nowt. Nowt.' She shook her head, her mug waving wildly as she leant back against the sink.

'Your dad didn't make it sound like nothing.' Caroline was sitting at the table, her hands wrapped round her drink. 'In fact, it sounded like the opposite of nothing.' She paused, gauging for an initial reaction. Gillian didn't say anything, just shrugged.

She shrugged dismissively again when Caroline remained silent. 'So Raff's not talking to me-'

'Raff's not talking to you?'

She took a large gulp of hot tea, avoiding the question.

'What on earth did you do?'

Eyes cast down, she shrugged yet again. 'It were a mistake. A genuine, proper mistake.'

'What was a mistake?' Caroline leaned forward in her seat. 'Look, Gillian, I'm not going to beat around the bush, just tell me or I'll go home. I haven't got time for this.'

'Well- the thing is-' Caroline glared at her. 'It were Ellie. They came over for lunch, on Saturday, with Calamity.' She moved away from the sink, and slid into a chair. 'She had this bruise, just there,' she said, touching her cheek. 'And I asked her, flat out what the hell happened and she told me some bullshit story about this girl in a pub a week since that she got in a fight with. But it didn't ring true. And I thought... I though...'

'You thought your Raff did it.'

Her cheeks blazed and she stared blankly down into her cup.

'So I asked him,' she muttered, darkly. 'I told him - just tell the truth, and I won't be cross, that were something my mother always said - anyway, I asked him if it were him.'

'If he'd hit her?'

She nodded, silently.

'And he flipped out. Proper lost it with me. Asked me how I could ask him that - how I could think he could do that.'

Caroline chose to remain quiet.

'And like I f- bloody wanted to ask him. I just thought- I saved him from ever knowing. He still thinks the sun shines out of his dad's wherever. So I thought, you know - like father, like son.' She stopped for a moment, catching her breath. 'And I know it was a terrible thing to say - an awful thing to think. He's my boy. I shouldn't think he could...'

She looked up at Caroline, who was sipping her tea thoughtfully.

'But he's Eddie's boy too.'

'Do you want me to tell you to tell him? About Eddie? Because I can say that, I can, it's just, I don't think you should.'

She took a large gulp of cold tea. Avoidance tactics again.

'I think he needs to know.'

'It's your life.'

'Because I don't want him turning into Eddie.'

'Raff's a good lad. He's had a good upbringing. You've done right by him. He's not Eddie, he might be his son, but he's not Eddie. He's got his head screwed on.' Caroline put her mug down. 'But the main reason I don't think you should tell him is because I don't think you want to. And I don't think that's a good think, being forced to talk about this when you don't really want to.'

She looked away, out the window. It was still raining.

'And have you thought about how Raff would react to this? You said he still worships his dad. It might... come as a shock, let's say.'

'Maybe that's why I should tell him. Knock Eddie off that bloody pedestal.'

Caroline shrugged.

'Whatever you want to do.'

'I just want... I want to explain. I want him to talk to me again. And if telling him is the only way that can happen...'

Her tea had gone cold.

...

'Raff, love, open the door.'

She knocked again.

'Go away. I don't want to talk to you.'

She could hear Calamity crying, and a muttered curse from Raff as he stomped about.

'It's bloody freezing out here, Raff. Let me in. I'll put a brew on and then we can talk about it.'

'I don't want to talk about it,' he snapped back. She could hear him soothing Calamity through the cheap, wooden door. She smiled, remembering when Raff was little, how she used to tickle his tummy and his face would curl into this little grin and he'd laugh. But then her smile turned into a dark frown. When Raff was little, Eddie used to like coming back from the pub at gone midnight and use her as a punching bag, too.

'Raff-'

She didn't even get to finish what she wanted to say. The door swung open and she came face to face with Raff, Calamity on his hip.

'Five minutes. That's all. I'm not that interested in how you want to spin it. I'm just sick of you banging at door like some mad thing. Just get it over with.'

He moved out of the doorway and she followed him in.

Good start. Good start. At least she was inside now.

She put the kettle on and sat at the tiny kitchen table, smothered in baby paraphernalia. She moved a bottle and a rattle to one side, clearing a space. Raff was thumping about in the living room, doing god knows what. She wondered were Ellie was. Probably at work.

He popped his head around the corner. 'Well, then, mother? How are you going to get yourself out of this one?'

'Raff, love, sit down.'

'Spit it out.'

'Sit down,' she said, through gritted teeth.

He looked chastised for a moment and came further into the room, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

'You haven't got damp, have you?' she said, suddenly, gesturing at the wall next to him. 'That looks like damp. Bloody Leeds. Knew you should have stayed at home.'

'Mum,' Raff said, sharply. 'What did you want?'

She swallowed.

'What I said, the other day?'

'Accusing me of being a wife beater? How could I forget?'

She winced.

'Yeah, well. I- I wanted to-.'

Caroline had been right. There was no right way to do this. She shouldn't have come. She shouldn't do this. But what if Raff never forgave her, for saying those things? And it did kill her every time he went to Eddie's grave, paying his respects to the monster who made her life hell for twenty years.

'I said those things, because... because...'

God, this was hard.

'Oh fuck,' she muttered, under her breath. 'Could you sit down? This would be easier if you're sitting down.' She wrung her hands together.

'Mum? Is everything alright?'

'Yeah. I just don't know how to... I always thought you'd never have to know. I've protected you from it for so long, and then I go and put my foot in and now I think I have to tell you.'

'What are you going on about?'

'I asked if you... I asked that thing because your dad he... Your dad, he used to knock me about. Before he died.'

Raff frowned. 'Knock you about?'

'Hit me. Kick me. Humiliate- humiliate me.'

She swallowed again. Her throat felt swollen, like she was suffocating.

'Raff, love... Say something.'

'Christ mum.'

She closed her eyes, waiting for something more.

'When did it start?'

She thought about it, though she already knew the answer.

'We got married young, I think you know that. I were eighteen, your dad was a few years older. He liked to get pissed - not that that's an excuse - but he liked to drink. And then he'd come home, and I'd have done something wrong, or well, sometimes there wasn't a reason. He were just handy with his fists.'

'Fuck.'

'And that's... that's why I asked. I know it was stupid, I wasn't thinking. You're a good lad, you're not like him. You're not. It's just he wasn't always like that. He changed, after we got married. Or at least he stopped pretending. And I was scared that you...'

'Does Robbie know? Does granddad?'

'Robbie knows. I told him, before the wedding. Before our wedding. Mine and Robbie's. Your granddad doesn't know. I'd like it to stay that way. God, I thought you'd never know.'

He came towards her quickly, suddenly, enveloping her in a hug, and she held him close, her face buried in his hair, her arms wrapped around him, her boy.

He was shaking in her grip, and she realised he was crying.

'It's alright, Raff. It's all over. It's fine now.'

'Mum, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.'

'It's not your fault.'

He pulled away, and kneeled on the floor by her chair, and angrily wiped the tears away.

'Fucking bastard.'

'Raff-'

He looked up at her. 'I'm glad he killed himself. The bloody coward deserved it.'

'That's a terrible thing to say, Raff.'

'It's the truth.' There was a venom in his voice she had never heard before.

'It's done now, Raff. He's dead and I'm fine. Please, don't be angry.'

'I'm sorry mum. I'm not like him. I promise. I'll never be like him, I swear.'

She reached out and they tumbled into another embrace. He kept mumbling sorry again and again and she kept telling him it was okay, it was okay.

The door went, and they both looked up as Ellie walked into the room, wearing her supermarket uniform.

She stopped dead in the doorway when she saw them. The bruise had healed by now. Gillian figured she didn't care about the story behind it anymore. It wasn't Raff. It wasn't Raff.

She let go of her son and he shot up, and went over to Ellie and pulled her into a bug. She looked away, but couldn't help but hear him say 'I love you, you know that, Ells?' and it made her smile.

Raff made her stay for tea and they talked and joked and things went back to normal, or near enough, and they didn't talk about it.

She had just said her goodbyes to Calamity and Ellie, playing together in the living room, and ducked back into the kitchen to say goodbye to Raff. He was washing up when she popped her head round the door.

'I'm going now, love. Call me, soon, yeah?'

He turned around, drying his hands on a tea towel.

'You okay?'

She nodded.

'I'll be fine. You?'

'Yeah. Course.' A pause, a heartbeat. 'Thank you, for telling me.'

She smiled, nodded. 'Bye then.'

When she got outside, and was walking down the staircase back to the land rover, she slipped her phone out and found Caroline's number.

It rung four times before she picked up.

'Hey, Caroline. It's Gillian.'

Another pause, another heartbeat.

'I told him. I told Raff. About Eddie.'

...

a/n The title comes from The Projectionist by Sleeping at Last