Chapter 21 – Grandmother's Footsteps

Robert draped one leg over his knee, folding his arms tightly across his chest. He glared at the peeling leather on his armrest, unsure of why his heart was hammering so fast.

Dr Ryder, the stoic, middle-aged doctor that Dr Cavanagh had reccomended for him, sat in an armchair opposite, his pen nib hovering over a yellow pad of paper. Robert eyed the pen nervously. It seemed like a nail… ready to chip away at the comfortable wall he'd built for himself over the past seventeen years.

"So. Robert." Dr Ryder started, with a grimace.

"So. Doc." Robert rounded back, a sarcastic smirk playing about his lips.

"How have you been?" Dr Ryder asked, his tone measured.

"How have I been?" Robert parroted, "Well, I've seen better days."

"How's your eating habits?"

"Better. Now that I'm eating snacks." Robert said blandly, "I haven't started on full meals yet. My Gran keeps cooking and trying to feed me but – I'm not ready. I won't be able to keep it down."

"Okay. So, Robert… do you want to start by telling me why you've been starving yourself?" Dr Ryder asked lightly.

Robert picked at a piece of skin around his thumbnail, shrugging. "I didn't do it on purpose or to piss anyone off. I don't have an eating disorder or anything. I just didn't have an appetite and when I did eat food, I used to feel anxious and then couldn't keep the stuff down."

"Yes but you neglected your appetite to a point where you had a heart attack." Dr Ryder said slowly, as if talking to a small child, furthermore making Robert's temper prickle.

"Yes I am aware of that Dr Ryder. I was actually there at the time." Robert said, through clenched teeth.

"Right." Dr Ryder made a tiny note on his pad. "And there's an understanding that you induced the heart attack. By climbing into an icy cold bath."

Robert shrugged again. "So what if I was?"

"Why did you do it Robert?"

There is was again. That soft, probing voice that would allow this quack to poke his finger into Robert's psyche!

"Because I'm bored." Robert said stiffly. "Bored and… tired. Well, no - actually… I'm just… I'm just tired."

Dr Ryder subtly dashed his pen across his pad. "Tired about what?" He asked.

"My situation." Robert replied, before he could stop himself.

"And what situation would that be?" Dr Ryder asked softly.

"Hmm, let's see." Robert released an exaggerated sigh, "Well. I died. Sort of. Came back. Had some feeding tube shoved up my nose, that went down my throat and into my stomach. So, that was fun. Then I went back home to everyone trying to fatten me up, fussing over me, talking to me. They won't even let me have a piss without someone listening on the other side of the door! Do you know how embarrassing that is?"

Dr Ryder's eyes bored into his.

Robert swallowed, his own eyes darting away. "Nah. Don't suppose you do."

"Near death experiences can be quite traumatic." Dr Ryder said placidly, "It's all right to admit that you feel unnerved by the experience."

"But I wasn't! That's the point!" Robert said, in fustration. "I – I went somewhere really peaceful. And my Dad was there and – I wanted to go with him but – I'm back here."

"Your father's passed on?" Dr Ryder said, after a moment.

Robert nodded, "Yeah. Coming up to nine years, in Feb." He let his head fall back against the sofa. Then… "Wow." He uttered.

Dr Ryder leaned a little closer, "What is it?"

"Nine years." Robert whispered, "It doesn't feel like it. But my Dad's been dead almost a decade and I – I still feel him…whenever I'm outside, in the fields or when it rains… I feel his prescence more than I ever did when he was alive." His eyes began to sting. He squeezed his lids shut, pushing the tears back.

Dr Ryder shifted in his seat. "What was your relationship like with your father?"

There it is! The jackpot question!

Robert almost laughed out loud. "How long you got?"

Dr Ryder actually smiled, "Take your time."

Robert swallowed. "Well it was complicated. After my er… my natural Mum died in this – this car accident. I was only a baby. Four months old. It was up to my Dad and Gran to – raise me. For the longest time it was just me and him. Kind of like – us against the world! Then he met Sarah. She became my Mum. I loved her. But – things slid downhill over the years."

He had to spit the words out now, like spitting out shards of glass from his lips. He didn't like this. Talking about his dead mothers, his dead parents, ripping open old wounds, vocally admitting that he was an orphan and everyone ends up leaving! This was supposed to be helping him, not hurting him!

"Sorry." Robert mumbled, clearing his throat, "It's – sensitive."

"I noticed you speak of her in past tense. Did something happen? Did she and your father get a divorce?" Dr Ryder asked curiously.

Robert's trembling fingers dug fiercely into his palm. He whispered, "They almost did. But – er, they never quite made it…"

Dr Ryder narrowed his eyes, "How come?"

He was getting dangerously close now. Robert's eyes scanned the room, desperate for a way out.

"She - she died." Robert replied, keeping his voice steady. "Before – anything could happen. It was er – seventeen years. Last month."

"Well, I'm sorry she died. Was it another accident?" Dr Ryder pressed, unable to bar the sympathy from his tone.

Another accident. God, he really was an unlucky sod wasn't he? How was it possible that both his kind, sweet mothers died in the most brutal catastrophes, but he willingly climbs into an ice bath with a heart attack and then gets sent back to life?

How?

"No. It wasn't an accident." Robert said, the bitterness leaking into his voice, "Well – it was. And it wasn't."

"Jaaaaaack!"

Robert fidgeted with his sleeves, picking at the fraying denim. At Dr Ryder's probing look, he continued reluctantly. "She died in a barn fire. It was set by my brother. He was trying to claim on the insurance so we wouldn't lose our farm. Our – bloody farm." Robert rubbed his temple with his thumb. "But er – he didn't know my - our Mum was in there. With her boyfriend, they'd gone in there to do – whatever and… yeah she died."

"Mum! Where is she? Mum!"

"Jaaaaaaaack!"

Robert suddenly lurched forward, resting his arms on his knees. "Sorry Dr Ryder, I – I don't see how bringing this up is gonna help."

Dr Ryder was quiet for a few seconds. Then he tilted his head to the side, observing Robert as he said, "Did you ever have any counselling after your mother's death?"

Robert shook his head, sighing again in defeat. "Okay look… I was meant to – Andy and I both were but… we didn't really have time. You see, my Dad was arrested for her murder. He was cleared and everything! But Andy and I had to give evidence at the trial. We were only fourteen."

"That's a great deal, for a young adolecent to deal with." Dr Ryder said, his voice hushed. "Losing your mother and then standing witness on a murder trial for your father."

"Then finding out that my brother was behind the whole thing." Robert added dully. "I barely had time to catch my breath."

"How did you react when you found out that your brother was behind the fire?" Dr Ryder asked.

'You killed my Mum for insurance money!'

'She was my Mum as well!'

'Don't you say that! She was never your Mum! Your Mum left ya!'

'Robert, I loved Sarah too!'

'Love? You don't know what love means!'

"Obviously I flipped." Robert replied, in a daze, all the jigsaws of his memories, finally slotting into place. "And that was it. The beginning of the end."

"Of what?"

Robert lifted his head up, his eyes lifeless. "My life as I knew it. It was like… that little boy just – disappeared. And I don't know where he's gone. I thought he was dead but, I know he's in here somewhere." He tapped his head, "Always whispering to me about the good old days. Taunting me about how easy my life used to be. Pisses me off."

Dr Ryder nodded slowly, scrutinising Robert's face. He scribbled something on the notepad, then shuffled up straighter, forcing a smile on his face. "Right. Robert, I er – I think that's it for today."

Robert frowned, "But – it's not even been an hour?"

"I know when to stop." Dr Ryder said gently, "And I'm not going to sit here and push you into talking about things you don't want to. I've been doing this job for nearly thirty years Robert. I know when a patient's about to crack up on me."

Robert released a low whistle through his teeth. "Look. Doc. Please don't – pretend that you care about me. Or my problems."

"What makes you think I don't care?" Dr Ryder asked, his tone sharpening.

"Please." Robert scoffed, "I'm just a slot in the diary for you. Another sad case to drone on and on while you glance at the clock and doodle on that notepad!"

"Robert, you are very much mistaken if you think I don't care." Dr Ryder said sternly, "I care about all my patients. Including you. I get to know you, your stories, your history. You've already become so much more than just a slot in my diary. This morning you were just – my two o'clock. Now. You're Robert Jacob Sugden. You have a name, a face and a story. And if you'll let me… I'd like to help you compartmentalize all your thoughts. Because they're all over the place, am I right?"

Shyly, Robert nodded, mumbling, "Yep."

"Yeah. I thought so. " Dr Ryder's tone softened. "So please don't say I don't care. Because I do."

Robert swallowed over the aching lump rising in his throat. "Well I er… I guess it wouldn't hurt to have someone on my side."

Annie shuffled along the path outside her old house, grateful for the fresh air. How many years had she spent here? The best and worst parts of her life, it seemed.

She glanced up as a dark blue car crunched on the gravel. Aaron hopped out of the driver seat, offering her his shy smile.

"Hello!" Annie greeted warmly. "What brings you up here?"

Aaron jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at the car, saying, "I was on my way into Hotten to see a scrap client and I er – I just thought I'd stop by and see if everything was all right. With er – with Robert."

Annie's face fell slightly. "Oh well, I'm sorry love, I'm afraid Robert isn't here. He started his first session of counselling today."

Aaron raised his eyebrows in surprise, "Robert's seeing a counsellor?"

"Well, a psychiatrist really." Annie said, fidgeting with her gloves.

Aaron narrowed his eyes, "You don't sound like you approve?"

"It's not that!" Annie responded, in a fluster. "It's just... they seemed to think a complete stranger can talk to him for an hour, then they'll stick a label on him and chuck a load of pills down his throat! When what he really needs is a good meal, some decent rest and his family around him!"

Aaron swallowed, unsure of what to say. "But erm… it - it might help him to deal with stuff."

Annie shook her head, her eyes clouding with worry, "I know Robert and I know how this goes. If they diagnose him with something, he'll continue to use it as an excuse to carry on as he is. Every time he slips up and decides to lock himself in the house for a month or starve himself to death again – he'll blame it on his 'condition' or whatever nonsense. In my day we just got up and got on with it.' She sighed, leaning against her cane, "Or maybe that's the problem. Maybe I'm too old to know how to help him."

"Or maybe you're just a person who watched someone they love… almost die." Aaron said, his voice a whisper amongst the harsh wind.

Annie eyed him up, with interest. "You sound like you're speaking for two of us."

Aaron sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Maybe I am. I – I just don't know what to do."

"You need to just talk to each other!" Annie shot out, with such an aggressive fustration, Aaron actually jumped. "I have half a mind to smack your heads together!"

"Every time I try and talk to him, he just pushes me away!" Aaron responded, vexed. "I can't sit on him and force him to listen to me!"

Annie sighed. The two of them stood there for a few seconds, stewing in awkward silence. Annie suddenly grabbed onto Aaron's arm. "I'll tell you what to do. Tonight, around six o'clock, I'm going to visit a friend in Robblesfield. Andy will be at The Woolpack. The house will be empty." She said, her eyes sparkling.

Aaron cottoned on to her meaning. He shifted nervously, "But erm, what about Robert? Are you sure you want to leave him on his own?" He asked, pointedly.

"Except he won't be on his own will he?" Annie said sweetly.

Aaron shook his head slowly, "I don't think – he won't open the door!"

"He will." Annie countered simply, "Because I have a plan that is guaranteed to work in your favour."

"You'd actually plot against him?" Aaron asked, in mild disbelief.

"If I thought it would help him? Absolutely!" Annie said firmly.

Aaron almost laughed. "Wow. You really are Robert's grandmother."

She winked at him. "Now, here's what we're going to do…"

"So how was your first session?" Andy asked, keeping his tone measured as they trundled down the narrow country roads.

Robert shrugged, nibbling on his thumbnail. "It was okay. Mainly just… chatted about stuff."

Andy sidled a glance at him. "Do you reckon it helped?"

Robert shifted uncomfortably in the tiny seat, "It was only the first one. And Dr Ryder seems to know what he's doing."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, he er – prescribed me some anti-anxiety pills. But he said to use them sparingly because they might fuck up my appetite." He chuckled wearily, "Well, he didn't use those words! But you get the gist."

Andy laughed, nervously. "And you're gonna take the pills right?"

"Yes." Robert replied, irritated. "Why do you ask me that?"

"Because I know you Rob." Andy sighed, "If you think you're having side effects, just tell us or your doctor, rather than suffer in silence like you always do!"

"I will." Robert murmured, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"I'm serious Rob!" Andy scolded, "Because we can't go through this again! Gran can't - !"

"I said I'll take em all right!" Robert snapped. "Quit having a go at me Andy, I'm not in the mood!"

"I'm not having a go! I just want you to get better soon so we can get this farm up and running!" Andy responded heatedly. "I need to start getting some money in!"

Robert opened his mouth to argue, but then stopped himself. Of course this was taking a huge toll on his family. He didn't realise. Mainly because he was so unused to them making such a fuss. Now that they were, he didn't know how to handle it.

Robert released a long sigh. "Sorry Andy. I'm just… trying to tread water here."

"Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?" Andy asked sourly.

"Eh? No! I'm still figuring things out, that's what I meant."

Robert lapsed into a moody silence for the rest of the drive. Andy kept shooting apologetic glances at him.

When they arrived back at the farm, Annie greeted them with a smile only to be brushed off by a surly Robert, trapising straight up to his room.

"Blimey, what's rattled his cage?" Annie huffed, jerking his head toward the staircase door, which Robert just slammed.

Andy shrugged out of his parka, giving her a warning look, "Ah, he's just in a mardy mood."

"So I take it the session went well then?" Annie asked shrewedly.

Andy gave her a look as he hung up his coat. "Don't start Gran. It's still early days. Anyway, Rob seems to think the doctor's good so we should just take his word for it. Is there any tea in the pot?"

Annie lifted the lid, peering into the teapot, "Only the dregs. I'll make you a fresh brew." She hobbled to the kettle. "And maybe you can take a cup to Morrissey up there."

The staircase door creaked open, Robert sauntered into the kitchen mumbling, "I'm surprised you even know who Morrissey is."

"Ah, it speaks then." Annie shot out, sticking the kettle under the faucet.

Robert rolled his eyes, dropping into a seat. "Please Gran don't - "

"Don't what?"

"I'm just having one of those days, all right?"

"You're always having one of those days." Annie muttered, pottering around the kitchen.

Andy exchanged a raised eyebrow with Robert who sighed. "Okay. I'm sorry for being rude when I came in."

"There." Annie glanced over her shoulder as she wiped the counter down, "That wasn't so hard was it."

Andy chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "Look, I'm going down to the pub later. Want to come?"

"I can't love." Annie said, tossing away the old rag, "I'm meeting an old friend in Robblesfield later tonight."

"Your friends are still alive?" Robert asked, smirking.

That earned him a cheeky clip round the ear.

"Yes Robert!" Annie said prissily. "She's the only friend I still have left in this country. I don't know when I'll see her again and I intend to make the most of this visit."

Robert pouted in jest, "And here's me thinking we were your best friends!"

Annie ignored him. "Andy, I'll need a lift into town."

Andy nodded. "Sure thing. Rob, you gonna come for a drink?"

Robert opened his mouth to reply, but Annie jumped in, "No! Er… Robert has to stay here."
Andy frowned, "Why?"

"Yeah, why?" Robert echoed, curiously.

Annie folded her arms, giving him a chiding look. "This place needs to be sorted out properly, before you get the decorators in. Changing a few sheets and hanging up some curtains isn't good enough. Andy nearly tripped up on one of those boxes, you left lying around near the door. And the parlour is an absolute tip, no one can sit in there! We can't keep living in two rooms!"

"So, why do I have to sort it out by myself?" Robert asked, scowling.

"Because it's your house now, my love." Annie said, in a sugary voice. "This is what it means to be an adult."

"I don't mind helping him." Andy interjected carefully, "I thought we were gonna do it this weekend anyway."

"It'll be better if Robert gets a head start!" Annie said quickly. "That way he can keep his mind occupied, rather than sulking in the pub or lurking around in his room like a mardy teenager!"

"Ugh!" Robert groaned. "Fine! I'll sort out the boxes. Didn't feel like going out anyway."

The kettle began to whistle. Annie turned back to the stove, a triumphant smirk playing upon her lips.

Aaron sipped his lemonade, keeping a careful eye on the time. He had persuaded, or rather bribed Liv into staying with Gabby for the night. Not that he was expecting anything to happen.

"No beer?" Chas asked, sliding open the till, "You on some kind of pre-Christmas detox or summat?"

"As if?" Aaron scoffed. "Nah, I'm er… I'm driving somewhere in a bit, so…"

Chas raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly, "Oh yeah? Anywhere interesting?"

"Just someone's house." Aaron muttered, taking another small sip.

Chas's eyes widened. "I see! And is this 'just someone,' a person you've been seeing recently?"

"Not recently, no." Aaron said evenly. "But I'm hoping all that will change."

"Well, if you think this 'just someone' is worth fighting for, then you should go for it." Chas said, grinning.

Aaron smiled back at her. "Yeah. You know what? I think I'll do that."

Right on cue, Andy entered the pub alone. He raised an eyebrow at Charity, grabbing her attention, "Pint please! And another of whatever Vic's having."

"No Robert today then?" Charity asked, balancing a tumbler under the beer tap.

Andy chortled, shaking his head, "Nah! Gran's got him back at the farm, sorting out boxes before the decorators get their hands on the place!"

Aaron caught Victoria's eye and she gave him a subtle thumbs up. He nodded back in acknowledgement, stealthily sneaking out of the pub.

Robert chucked an old shoe box onto the 'recycling pile,' cursing his family for being such hoarders. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he tied up his third bin liner, now bursting at the seams with miscellaneous items.

His phone pinged. Picking his way over the bits of junk he'd lain out on the living room floor, Robert grabbed his phone off the mantlepiece and glanced at it.

Vic:

Gran forgot her key, she needs to pick up her scarf. Says it's cold. Can you open the kitchen door for her. DON'T keep her waiting.

X

Robert frowned. He could've sworn his Gran had her scarf tucked around her neck, as she scurried out of the house earlier. And it was odd that Victoria mentioned the kitchen door specifically. She knew that was the only door they used. The main front door was just for show. Always had been.

Robert tapped out a response, shaking his head in a huff.

Fine.

He manouvered into the kitchen, unbolting the door and leaving it on the latch. Then he carried on back to work, unpacking a box of books dating back to the seventies. Robert stared at the thick, dusty tomes cluttering the box. What the hell was he supposed to do with all of this? Examining one of the tattered, leather spines, they looked like an assortment of travel books, encyclopedias and farming. In exasperation, he lifted out the books, one by one.

There was a quiet knock at the door.

"Yeah, it's open!" Robert hollered over his shoulder, absently leafing through the thin pages of a 1978 volume on grain investments.

The door creaked open, then slammed shut.

"You okay Gran?" Robert called out.

Footsteps shuffled into the living room.

"Vic said you left your scarf behind." Robert said, lifting out another book.

"Not exactly."

The husky voice cut through the room like a knife. And God only knows, Robert would recognise that voice anywhere, even in the dark. He spun around in shock, almost dropping the book.

Aaron stood in the doorway of the kitchen, gazing at Robert with a kind of burning intensity, he hadn't seen in months.

"Robert." He whispered, "We need to talk."

to be continued...