Silent Child(93)

“Why the fuck did Hugh trust you?”

“Because he knew me!” she exploded. “He was the only one who did. That’s why I protected him when Aiden came back. I knew the police would sniff around his house if I didn’t do something to account for his disappearance. That’s why I logged into his Facebook. Everyone thought he was having an affair, but I figured out what must have happened.”

“You weren’t protecting him, you were protecting yourself,” I said. “You thought the affair you had with Hugh might come out and lead back to you. But you’re an idiot, Amy. You’re not good at this at all, not like Hugh. You craved your fifteen minutes of fame when you should’ve been keeping quiet. Didn’t you realise that Aiden would start talking eventually?”

“I thought he’d come back wrong,” she said. “I figured he was retarded and would never say a peep.” She shrugged. “He is your son, after all.”

I ignored the dig. “You’re weak. Hugh was controlling you and you can’t even see it,” I said. “He was controlling everyone. You. Me. Josie. Aiden. That’s what he wanted. Complete control.”

“No,” she said. “I allowed him to.”

“You’re pathetic.”

“Whatever,” she replied. “You’re a bitch. You never noticed me. None of you. I was nothing to you all. A follower. The dirt on your shoe. You never deserved Rob. He’s better than you.”

“You’re sick,” I said, pressing the knife harder against her skin. When a red bead trickled down her face she started to cry.

“Don’t hurt me! Please!”

I let out a long, hot breath right into her face. “Do you know what it felt like to kill Jake? I saw the life fade from his eyes. I tasted his blood when I ripped his wrist open with my teeth. I could rip out your throat right now.” She whimpered and closed her eyes. “The only reason I won’t do that is because I’m not an idiot like you. I’m not about to waste my life over a cretin like you. I have a life now. I have my son back and I have Rob back. I have a daughter. What do you have? A stack of newspapers with your name in them. You’re not worth going to prison over. So I’m going to tell you exactly what you’re going to do. You’re going to sell this house. You’re going to quit your job. You’re going to take the blood money you received from the lies you told and you’re going to move far away from here. You’re never going to show your face again, because if I see you, I will plunge this knife into your belly and I’m going to keep cutting until I reach your lying mouth. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

*

It was a steep climb. My legs ached and my back was sweaty, but the view was beautiful. I lifted Gina’s hand and waved to the tiny, scurrying people below. She was strapped to my chest, nuzzled against my skin.

“Do you remember this place?” I asked.

Aiden nodded. “We used to come for picnics.”

Bit by bit, day by day, I was learning what Aiden remembered and what he didn’t. He remembered my mum and dad, he remembered the school, but he didn’t remember his favourite food or the football team he’d supported.

I spread out the blanket and placed the picnic basket down. It was cold, and the grass was wet, but I’d brought a waterproof blanket and we were all covered in thick layers to keep us warm. I removed the baby halter from my front and sat down on the blanket, putting Gina on my knee. She looked funny in her little ski suit, all red nose and cheeks.

“Isn’t it lovely down there?” I said.

Aiden rested his hands on his knees. He was learning things too, like how to interact with his surroundings. He didn’t stand around looking like a sore thumb like he used to. He relaxed into seats. He rested against tables. He drummed his fingers on the armrest of the car when the radio was on.

He nodded. “Thought I wouldn’t see it again.”

I couldn’t get used to the sound of his voice. He spoke in short, abrupt sentences. Sometimes it took him a while to get his words out. He would work his jaw as if feeling the words move around his mouth before he spoke. But I was proud of him for the way he was developing.

We sat there for a while, looking at the river Ouse snaking through the tiny village. It was morning, and the winter sun gave everything a sharp, bright look. The trees were so orange they hurt your eyes to look at. The sky was so blue it was more like the sea, and the air was so fresh it left your lungs with that rasping, raw feeling you get from exercising on a cold day.

The events of the last decade would rest heavy on my soul until the day I died, but I had a glimpse of the happiness that lay before me. A road to be travelled.

“Next time we have a picnic,” I said. “It’s going to be on the Great Wall of China.” I opened the basket and removed the sandwiches.

“Okay,” he replied.

I paused, and turned to look at my son. There was colour on his cheeks, and his eyes were bright. I reached towards him and gently brushed his cheek with my hand. Aiden slid down to the left so that he rested his head against my shoulder. It was awkward at first, but after a moment or two he settled in. For the first time in over a decade I breathed in the scent of my son. I placed my nose against the top of his head and I breathed in the notes that lay below shampoo and shower gel to smell his skin, like I had done the day he was born. As my nostrils filled with that slightly sickly, sweet scent of skin, my heart was finally full.