Laura would not answer her phone, or open the door to me.
Three days dragged by like this with no contact. The anxiety resident in my being had taken root.
Next evening, Husband was out when Laura rang me to say how desperately unhappy she was. I told her I would come over and that is what I did.
Laura opened her door, sat down on the stairs to force me to stay in the hallway.
She sparked up a fag and blew smoke in my direction. She had a mug of cold water where used dimps floated.
She said she did not want to live. Nothing but misery.
She was drunk, morbid, and scruffy.
‘You need help,’ I said, feeling helpless.
No. She didn’t need help to end it all. I stood outside for a second to ring for an ambulance.
The ambulance crew arrived followed by the police.
Laura stood, surprised to see the ambulance crew. She accused me of making a show of her in front of work colleagues, she knew the ambulance men. They offered to take her to the hospital. No. She would not go.
‘Please take her, help me with my daughter. I don’t know what to do with her,’ I cried.
‘We can’t take her, against her will.’
‘Then section her, she needs the help of professionals.’
‘Ooh! You don’t want to do that Love. Take her home with you, instead.’
So I did.
And waited for Husband to return home.