Please Release Me by Rhoda Baxter Read Free Book Online Page A

each other. What if she woke up without it? What if she blamed him as much as he blamed himself?
    ‘It’s my fault,’ he said. ‘I was driving.’ He closed his eyes and saw Sally, in her wedding dress, her eyes big and piercing green. The concern on her face as she said ‘Don’t you trust me?’ That was the last thing she had said to him. ‘Don’t you trust me?’ And he’d tried to throw the lottery ticket away. Because he didn’t. If he’d had faith in her, if he hadn’t had the moment of doubt, she would still be here. ‘I let her down.’
    ‘Oh Peter.’ Diane put her arms around him. ‘Oh my boy. My poor darling boy. You can’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault. It was an accident. No one knew it was going to happen. No one could have prevented it.’
    He turned to look at her worried face. She was wrong. But he nodded. ‘I’m going to get ready.’ He stood up, and climbed the stairs, leaving his mother sitting at the bottom.
    By the time he’d had a shower and dressed, Peter felt better. He sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the wedding photo on his bedside.
    His parents’ concern for him had shifted everything slightly. It was as though he had gained some sort of clarity compared to before. Something needed to change. The phrase ‘parallel planning’ popped into his mind. It was what he’d been told he had to do. Live life with two parallel futures – one where Sally woke up and needed help and one where things stayed as they were. The idea of either was too horrendous to contemplate, so he’d avoided thinking about either; tackling each day as it came. He realised that this was an exhausting way to live. He couldn’t plan anything and he kept putting everything non-essential on hold.
    Well, something was going to have to change. He wasn’t sure how he was going to achieve that. The memory of the woman from the lift, Grace, popped into his mind. She had asked him to help with redecorating the hospice. It was happening that day and it wasn’t exactly out of his way … perhaps doing a spot of volunteering with a bunch of people he didn’t know wasn’t as silly an idea as he’d originally thought.
    When he got back downstairs, his father was outside cutting the grass and his mother had restocked his fridge with food.
    ‘Mum,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to tell you that I’m volunteering to help refurbish one of the sitting rooms at the hospice this weekend.’ Now that he’d made up his mind to go, it seemed the perfect solution. It would put his mother’s mind at rest. He could always retreat to Sally’s bedside after a short while. So long as he could honestly say he’d tried it.
    Diane shut the fridge door and looked at him seriously for a moment. ‘I’m glad to hear that,’ she said. From the caution in her voice, he knew she didn’t believe him. Now that he took the time to observe her properly, he could see that she had worry lines on her forehead and she seemed older than he remembered. Perhaps Sally’s coma had affected more than just him. He hadn’t thought of it that way.
    He went up to his mother and gave her a quick hug. To his surprise, she wrapped her arms around him and held him, her cheek pressed against his. ‘We love you, Peter.’
    ‘I know Mum,’ he said. ‘I sometimes forget, that’s all.’
    Sally was floating in her tranquillity. It was daytime, she could tell from the routine noises that came in through her door. She didn’t know what day it was, but she knew that Peter would come. He had mentioned something about his mother the day before. Sally couldn’t remember what, but she wouldn’t be surprised if it was something unpleasant. The old bat didn’t like her anyway. She remembered all too well the sniffy look Diane had given her when Peter introduced her. And the involuntary gasp when she’d realised that, two months after getting together, they were engaged.
    Sally felt a stab of satisfaction. It had been fast work, that.