Death Sentence (37 page)

‘With counselling and the right medication, we can do this; together, as we discussed. You will need to go to your follow-up appointments, though. Do you think you can do that?’

So far, so good. Matthew sighed again, despairingly, as Ashley turned her attention away from him to glance out of the side window. He wasn’t doing such a great job on the parenting front if he couldn’t even communicate with her, was he?

‘Ashley?’

Still, Ashley didn’t look at him. ‘I don’t want to.’ She shrugged moodily.

That much Matthew had gathered.

‘Okay, so,’ he ran a hand over his neck, ‘talk to me, Ashley. Tell me why. I promise I’ll do my best to understand.’

Ashley said nothing for a while, then, ‘You can’t. You don’t.’

Matthew wasn’t quite sure what to say to that.

‘No, I probably don’t,’ he conceded, ‘but I want to. Talk to me …’ Matthew stopped, his eyes shooting worriedly to his hands-free as his mobile rang. Seeing it wasn’t Becky, he hesitated, but then
being there
meant being there for Steve too. He owed the man, big time. ‘One minute,’ he said apologetically to Ashley and took the call.

‘All right, boss?’ Steve said, sounding chipper. Matthew truly was in awe of how he always did. Even when Matthew had first seen him at the hospital, flat on his back, in a brace for at least five weeks, still Steve’s droll sense of humour had been intact.

‘Yep, good,’ Matthew assured him. ‘Still expecting.’ He gave him an update on his imminent fatherhood.

‘Blimey, she’s determined to hang on to that one, isn’t she?’

‘Definitely.’ Matthew smiled, recalling how Becky had clawed her way back from the brink, determined to be there, for Ashley, for him, to stay healthy for the sake of their baby. He was in awe of her, too. Always would be.

‘Sorry, Steve, can I call you back?’ he asked. ‘I’m just in the middle of something with Ashley.’

‘Oh, right, no problem. It was just to let you know we got it: the dog kennels and rescue centre out in Worcestershire. It’s pretty spot on for what we want. The living accommodation is the pits, though, so if you fancy a little DIY sometime? Assuming you have the time, that is?’

‘I’m your man,’ Matthew assured him, although he wasn’t entirely sure he was into viewing dilapidated properties.

‘Excellent.’ Steve, who still struggled with some pain, but was determined not to give into it, sounded well-pleased.

‘I’ll catch you later. Good luck with the sleepless nights.’

‘Cheers, Steve.’ Reminded of the downside to new parenthood, Matthew smiled and rang off. ‘So,’ he turned his attention back to Ashley, ‘are we talking?’

Still nothing but mute silence.

‘Ashley? You need to help me out here. I can’t help you unless you talk to me. Can’t you at least tell me why you’re so adamant you won’t go to the appointments?’

Ashley drew in a breath, physically drawing up her shoulders. ‘Because they’ll think I’m loopy,’ she said, immediately deflating again.

Matthew wasn’t sure what to say there either. ‘You have mental health issues,’ he opted for. ‘It’s not a crime. Most of the population does at some time or …’

‘Do you really want someone with mental health issues around your new baby?’ Ashley said then, flooring him completely.

Matthew considered: how the hell was he supposed to respond to that? Truthfully, he supposed.

‘Okay, I’m going to be blunt here, Ashley, because I think you’re mature enough to realise why. I’ve seen too many runaways your age, too many broken spirits, broken bodies, to allow that to happen to you. Yes, I do want you around.
We
want you around and not out of some misguided sense of duty or moral obligation. You’re family. We’re related by blood and, while I might not be your father, I am your uncle, and I love you. Becky and I—’

‘Matthew, stop!!’ Ashley cut in determinedly.

Right. Matthew shook his head. That worked. So where did he go from here?

‘Ashley … You have to trust us. I know it’s not easy but—’

‘Matthew!
Stop!
’ Ashley screamed it this time.

Matthew couldn’t quite believe it when the dashboard died, causing someone to plough into the back of them as the car rolled to a stop. He was less able to comprehend the juggernaut jumping the traffic lights directly in front of him. If he’d gone on, he realised, his heart flipping over in his chest, there would have been nothing left of his car but scrap metal.

THE END