Behind Closed Doors(33)



‘Actually, there’s a new restaurant I’d like to take you to,’ Jack says.

‘I like hotel best,’ she scowls.

‘Another day. Come on, let’s go.’

Millie’s face is glum as we make our way to the car, the frustration of not being able to go to the hotel evident. I manage to give her hand a squeeze as we get into the car and, understanding that I’m telling her to be careful, she makes an effort to perk up a bit.

During lunch, Jack asks Millie why she can’t sleep at night and she tells him that she can hear flies buzzing around in her head. He asks if the pill that Janice had given her the night before had helped and she says that it did, that she slept very well, ‘like baby’, so he tells her that we’ve given our permission for her to carry on taking them whenever she needs them. She asks if Molly has come back yet and, because my throat has suddenly tightened, as it always does when I think of Molly, it is Jack who tells her gently that it is unlikely she will, that she was probably found by a little girl who doesn’t know that she’s a runaway and loves her very much. He promises that as soon as she moves in with us, he’ll take her to choose a puppy of her own and, when Millie’s face lights up with happiness, the urge to grab a knife off the table and stick it deep into his heart is overwhelming. Sensing this perhaps, Jack reaches out and covers my hand with his, making the waitress who has come to take away our plates smile at this display of affection between us.

When we’ve finished our desserts, Millie says she needs to go to the toilet.

‘Go on, then,’ says Jack.

Millie looks at me. ‘You come, Grace?’

I stand up. ‘Yes, I need to go too.’

‘We’ll all go,’ says Jack.

We follow him along to the toilets, which are exactly as I thought they’d be, a single one for women and a single one for men, the two doors side by side. The Ladies’ is engaged, so we wait on either side of Jack for it to become vacant. A lady comes out and Jack’s hand grips my elbow tightly as a reminder that I’m not to tell her my husband is a psychopath.

As Millie disappears into the cubicle, the lady turns and smiles at us, and I know that all she sees is a charming young couple standing so close to each other that they must be very much in love, which makes me realise, once again, how hopeless my situation is. I’m beginning to despair of anyone ever questioning the absolute perfectness of our lives and, whenever we are with friends, I marvel at their stupidity in believing that Jack and I never argue, that we agree about absolutely everything, that I, an intelligent thirty-two-year-old woman with no children, could be content to sit at home all day and play house.

I long for somebody to ask questions, to be suspicious. My thoughts turn immediately to Esther and I wonder if I should be more careful what I wish for. If Jack becomes suspicious of her constant questioning, he may decide that I’ve encouraged her in some way and my life will be even less worth living. Were it not for Millie, I would gladly exchange death for this new life that I lead. But were it not for Millie, I wouldn’t be here. As Jack has already told me, it is Millie he wants, not me.





PAST


That morning in Thailand, the morning after the night I discovered I’d married a monster, I was in no hurry for Jack to wake up because I knew that once he did I was going to have to start playing the role of my life. I had spent most of the long night preparing myself mentally, accepting that if I was to get back to England quickly and safely, I was going to have to pretend to be a broken and frightened woman. I wasn’t worried about pretending to be frightened, because I was. Pretending to be broken would be much harder, simply because it was in my nature to fight back. But, as Jack had predicted that I would try to escape again before we left Thailand, I was determined not to. It was important that he thought I had already given up.

Hearing him stir, I huddled further into my blanket and pretended to be asleep, hoping to gain a little more respite. I heard him get out of bed and walk over to where I was sitting slumped against the wall. I could feel him looking down at me. My skin started to crawl and my heart was beating so fast I was sure he could smell my fear. After a moment or two, he moved away, but it was only when I heard the bathroom door opening and the sound of the shower running that I opened my eyes.

‘I knew you were pretending to be asleep,’ he said, making me cry out in alarm, because he was standing right next to me. ‘Come on, get up, you’ve got a lot of apologising to do this morning, remember.’

As I showered and dressed with him looking on, I took comfort from what he had said the previous evening, that he wasn’t interested in me sexually.

‘Good,’ he said, nodding approvingly at the dress I’d chosen to wear. ‘Now, put a smile on your face.’

‘When we’re downstairs,’ I muttered, playing for time.

‘Now!’ His voice was firm. ‘I want you to look at me as if you love me.’

Swallowing hard, I turned slowly towards him, thinking I wouldn’t be able to do it, but when I saw the tenderness on his face as he looked back at me, I felt a bewildering sense of displacement, as if everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours had been a dream. I couldn’t hide the longing I felt and, when he smiled lovingly at me, I couldn’t help but smile back.

‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘Make sure you keep it there during breakfast.’

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