Greenwich Park(92)

‘Oh, Daniel, thank God,’ I say. I feel a sob rising in my chest. ‘Thank God you came. I think we need to call the police and … and I think the baby is coming.’

I’m already anticipating the familiar, woody smell of him, the smell of his pencil shavings and ink, the smell of books and clean sheets and safety. But then I see there is something strange about his face. The bags under his eyes are so deep now, he almost looks like someone else. But it’s not that. It’s something in the eyes themselves. Something I have never seen before.

‘I’m sorry, Helen,’ he says quietly.

‘What?’

And only then do I notice that he is holding something in his hands. The vase.

There is a white flash of pain as it slams against my skull. And then everything goes black.





KATIE





There’s no answer at Helen’s house. All the blinds are pulled down, the shutters closed. I call Helen’s mobile, but it goes straight to voicemail. Perhaps she has turned it off so she can sleep. I suppose she could have gone into labour. I wonder if I should walk away, give her a ring later. But something makes me stop. Their car is on the drive. It’s too early for Daniel to be home. Something feels wrong. Something I can’t put my finger on.

I kneel at the door and push open the brass flap to look inside. Helen’s hospital bag is sitting by the door, neatly packed. Her maternity notes are sticking out of the top in their blue folder. I know Helen – she doesn’t go anywhere without that bag. Not now. She dragged it all the way to Dartmouth Park with her the other night. No, Helen is here. She must be. I’ll just check she’s all right.

I feel for the spare set of keys she gave me the other day. It takes me a few moments to work the unfamiliar lock, but with a final twist, the catch gives way. As I cross the threshold, the atmosphere changes, the silence inside feels heavy.

‘Hello? Helen? Are you here?’

Daniel appears at the top of the stairs. He stares at me. He doesn’t say anything.

‘Oh, hi, Daniel,’ I say. ‘Is Helen here?’

Daniel’s face changes. He smiles. ‘Katie!’ He jogs lightly down the stairs. ‘Hello. I didn’t know you had a key.’



‘Helen gave me one,’ I say, as he leans forward to kiss me on the cheek. ‘Just to feed the cat and stuff, when you’re in the hospital.’ I pause. ‘I guess Serena is nearer but um …’

Daniel seems to flinch at the mention of Serena’s name. Did I imagine that? I wonder.

I look at his face. He looks exhausted, the bags under his eyes leaden. His cheeks are weirdly flushed, as if he’s been working out. Sweat glistens on his brow. He is standing ever so slightly too close to me.

‘Is she all right?’ I ask.

‘Who? Serena?’

I stare at Daniel. ‘No,’ I say, blinking. ‘Helen. Is she OK? Is she here?’

‘Oh yeah, of course,’ he says distractedly. He pushes his glasses up his nose. ‘She’s just sleeping. Upstairs.’

‘Oh, OK,’ I say.

I look over Daniel’s shoulder but he moves forward. Blocks my view.

‘Is someone else here?’

Daniel clears his throat. He doesn’t move. He speaks too quickly, too loudly.

‘To be honest, Katie, it’s not a great time.’ He wipes at the sweat on his brow. ‘Helen really needs quiet. She needs to have a bit of a rest. Can I get her to give you a ring later?’

As he speaks, the phone he is holding in his hand starts ringing. The words ‘Brian Mortgage Adviser’ flash up. The phone is in a case with a cutesy, flowery pattern. I don’t think it is Daniel’s phone. In fact, I am pretty sure it is Helen’s.

Daniel looks at the screen. He hits cancel, smiles at me. But within seconds, the same number flashes up again.



‘Maybe you should get that,’ I say quietly. ‘Might be important.’

‘It’s not. It’s fine.’ He presses cancel again, shoves the phone into his back pocket.

The air in the house feels thick, the silence heavy.

‘Daniel, are you sure everything’s OK?’

He looks at me through his glasses.

‘Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?’

The phone rings again. I look at Daniel. He looks at me. And then I decide. Fuck you, Daniel. Fuck you.

I step past him as if I’m headed to their kitchen. He flips an arm out to stop me, and as he does, I run straight up the stairs.

‘Katie?’

I can hear in his voice he is trying to stay calm.

‘Just using the loo,’ I call. ‘That’s OK, isn’t it? I won’t wake her.’

The phone is still ringing. Daniel throws it on the floor. I hear it smash as it hits the stone tiles. The crack is like a starting gun. Daniel has started to follow me up the stairs.

‘Katie,’ he is saying. His voice is different now. ‘It’s really not a good time. Really. Katie!’ His voice is desperate now, his footsteps heavier.

I am on the first landing. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what I’m looking for. I am throwing doors open – a bathroom, a study. Then I push open the door to the spare bedroom, the one where Rachel was staying. And there is Helen, slumped on the floor, one arm outstretched, another round her belly. Her eyes are closed, and as I come closer, I see there is a cut on her head, blooming red. A smashed vase lies in jagged pieces around her.