The Darkness Within: A heart-pounding thriller that will leave you reeling. Lisa Stone
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‘Yes. Go. Do what you normally do. Mum’s here if I need anything. But I must start doing things for myself again.’
‘I know, son. But not too much all at once.’
Jacob nodded and watched him go, then looked around his room before easing himself onto the bed. Almost immediately a tap sounded on the door and his mother appeared, carrying a tray with a mug of tea, a glass of water and his pills in a small plastic pot given to them by the hospital. ‘You look comfortable,’ she said, coming over and placing the tea on his bedside cabinet. She held out the glass of water and pot of pills as if she expected him to take them while she waited.
‘Put them on there,’ he said a little brusquely, nodding to his bedside cabinet.
She did as he said. ‘Don’t forget to take them.’
‘I won’t.’ He yawned.
‘I’ll leave you to rest then,’ she said, and left.
He wasn’t physically tired as she thought – more exhausted from the narrow strip his life had become. He needed some space and time to himself, and he needed to establish some ground rules. He’d been washed, dressed and even taken to the toilet by nurses in the early days. Continuously examined by doctors who discussed him as though he was theirs, so that he felt his body was no longer his own. Everyone seemed to have a claim on it and knew more about it than he did. And all the advice about his recovery, although necessary and well meant, had become suffocating, as was being constantly fussed over, not only by the nurses but by his parents and Eloise. Some blokes might have enjoyed all the attention but he didn’t; it had reduced him to a childlike dependency, humiliating and degrading. It would be a sharp learning curve before his parents and Eloise saw him as an independent bloke again, if he’d ever been one, which he was starting to doubt.
He’d had too much time to think in hospital; indeed there hadn’t been much else to do. He’d spent hours, days thinking about his life – the years before his illness. Gradually he’d come to see that he’d never carved out an identity, a will, a personality of his own. He’d always toed the line, done as he was told and what was expected of him. He’d worked hard at school, learnt to play the organ so he could help out in church, been polite to his father’s parishioners, and had tolerated the down-and-outs and misfits who’d arrived regularly at their door in the city looking for help and a handout. Even as a teenager he hadn’t rebelled. In fact he’d been a bit of a mummy’s boy. And away at university he could only remember one instance of drunk and loutish behaviour, before he’d joined the Christian Union and met Eloise.
Eloise was a nice girl; kind, well-mannered and polite. His parents had taken an immediate liking to her and were soon treating her like the daughter they’d never had. Jacob was looking forward to seeing her again tonight and hopefully having sex – the first time since he couldn’t remember when – sometime before he’d become really ill. When he stayed the night at her house her parents gave them a double room, but when she stayed with him his mother showed her to the guest room. They then had to wait until his parents were asleep before he could creep along the landing and into Eloise’s room to make love to her. Although he apologized for his parents’ Victorian and prudish attitude, he had to admit that the secret risqué nature of their liaison added to his enjoyment.
Tonight, however, there was an additional hurdle to be overcome. The list of dos and don’ts included post-operative sex with the warning that his breastbone mustn’t be put under any pressure until it was fully healed, which ruled out the missionary position – the one they usually used. After some thought Jacob decided that the best way – perhaps the only way – would be for her to sit astride him as he lay on his bed. And as he pictured this, the conservative, rather prim Eloise bouncing up and down on his erect penis, it caused it to come to life. A very good sign, he thought, for one of the possible side effects of his medication was impotence, which would require more pills and be yet another blow to his manhood.
He must have dozed, for he woke with a start to the sound of his mother tapping on his bedroom door again. ‘Eloise is here. There’s no rush. I’ve made her a cup of tea.’
‘I’ll be right down,’ he called, easing himself off the bed and into an upright position. It always took a few minutes after a sleep or a nap for his muscles and brain to start working again; he assumed it was the tablets.
He used the bathroom, combed his hair and checked his face in the mirror before carefully making his way downstairs. Before he’d become ill he’d taken the stairs two or three at a time, but now, aware of what a fall could mean, he made his descent slowly using the handrail. He resented that he had to approach everything with caution and trepidation but for the time being it was unavoidable. As he entered the living room Mitsy ran to him again, panting and wagging her tail, asking to be made a fuss of. Jacob ignored her and crossed instead to Eloise.
‘Good to see you home,’ she said warmly. She knew not to throw her arms around him until his chest was fully healed, so instead she smiled and looked up into his eyes, waiting for him to slip his arm around her as he’d done in the hospital. But he didn’t – he briefly kissed her cheek and then sat in one of the fireside chairs. Elizabeth had come into the living room in time to see her son’s dismissive greeting and the look of disappointment on Eloise’s face.
‘Let’s draw up this chair so the two of you can sit together,’ she said, pulling the matching armchair from the other side of the hearth.
Eloise flashed her a smile of gratitude as together they positioned it as close as it would go to Jacob’s chair and Eloise sat down.
‘Do you want anything, Jacob?’ Elizabeth asked. He shook his head. ‘Eloise, another tea?’
‘No thank you.’
‘I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. Dinner won’t be long. We’ll eat just as soon as Andrew returns.’
Eloise smiled and thanked her again, then turned to Jacob. He was gazing into the fire that danced in the magnificent inglenook fireplace, part of the original house and now only lit on special occasions or when they had guests staying.
‘So how are you?’ she asked him after a moment.
‘Fine,’ he said without taking his eyes from the fire. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m good, thank you, but it’s not me who’s had the heart transplant.’ She gave a small nervous laugh. ‘Pleased to be home at last?’
‘Of course.’
‘How’s the pain today?’
He shrugged. ‘I just take the tablets if I need them.’
She moved a little closer and rested her hand gently on his arm as she had done for hours and hours in the hospital. ‘How are you feeling in yourself?’ she asked, aware he had been feeling low at times.
He shifted, finding her intensity uncomfortable. ‘OK,’ he said. She seemed to expect more but that was the trouble with women – they expected you to expose yourself, pour out your feelings and vulnerabilities as they did.
There was silence as the fire crackled.
‘I left the teaching assistant to dismiss my class so I could leave early,’ she said, making conversation.
‘Good,’ he said, which seemed to please her. She smiled and, taking his hand in hers, kissed it tenderly.
‘I’ve missed you so much,’ she said.
‘I’ve missed you too,’ he agreed. This was clearly the right thing to say for she beamed at him and kissed his hand again.
Thankfully his father arrived to save him from further conversation. Eloise and he greeted each other with a warm embrace and cheek kisses as they always did. He asked her how she was and how her journey had been and then he went to wash and change, ready for dinner.
Conversation over dinner became easier as he didn’t have to talk much at all. Eloise and her parents did all the talking and