Seven Days(41)

‘Yes,’ the man said. ‘His third birthday. I think you know by now what happens when these children’ – he waved in Max’s direction – ‘turn three.’

‘What?’ Maggie said, her throat tight. ‘What happens?’

‘You know.’

She did know. But not why. If she knew why, maybe she could reason with him. Find a way to change his mind.

‘I do,’ Maggie said, the struggle to draw breath making her voice a gasp. ‘But why? Tell me. Why is their third birthday so important?’

The man blinked. ‘They become people at that age,’ he said. ‘And then you become too attached. I didn’t want to take them earlier because you needed some company.’ He smiled, almost proudly, as though he felt he should be praised for having thought of her.

Maggie let out a groan. She couldn’t be more attached, and the fact that the man didn’t see that – couldn’t see it – showed how vain her hope that he would feel some tenderness and love for Max had been.

He thought Max was company, but he was wrong. Max was a child. He was her son. He was so much more than company. He was her flesh and blood, in his face she saw herself and Seb and Leo and her mum and dad and brother.

But the man didn’t understand, and he never would. He was not capable of it.

She held out her hands. ‘Max,’ she said. ‘Come here.’

He looked up at her, a piece of toast in each hand, red jam around his mouth.

‘Mummy,’ he said. ‘This is good.’





4


The man came that night. He stood in the doorway in his blue bathrobe, his shins bare, leather sandals on his feet.

He gestured and she moved Max from the mattress to the floor.

It took a long time. Longer than usual, or maybe it was the disgust she felt for him that made it seem longer.

That was all that was left now. Disgust. She had gone through periods of hating him, fearing him, being furious with him, even pitying him. She’d never liked him or admired him or wanted to be anywhere near him, but she had, once or twice, felt sorry for him.

But not now. Now she felt nothing but disgust. Revulsion. It was the inhumanity he’d displayed, the inability to understand anything about how she must be feeling. He was not a damaged, broken version of a human being. He was not a human being at all.

And he would come and take her son, without any remorse. Then he would keep her here. She would never get out. Never be free. He would see to that. He would rather she died here than leave.

And she couldn’t do it. Not without Max; maybe not even with him. She couldn’t stay here forever.

But there was no way out. None.





Eleven Years Earlier: Sunday Morning, 1 July 2007


1


Martin Cooper glanced at the clock on the dashboard.

‘We’re going to be late,’ he said. ‘It’s ten o’clock already.’

James shrugged. ‘Not that late. Only a few minutes. And we’re nearly there.’

‘But still late.’ They were always late. It drove him mad; it was so easy to be on time. He took a deep breath. He knew his words would go unheard, but if he said them often enough maybe they would sink in. ‘You know, all you have to do if you want to be on time is think for a few seconds and make a plan. So, if you know it’s a ten-minute drive to your tutor’s house then you leave ten minutes before the start time. And if you know it takes twenty minutes to shower and get ready, you start showering and getting ready twenty minutes before that.’

‘I had to have a shower, Dad. Or would you prefer me to go there without taking one?’

‘That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying you need to take a shower earlier, if you want to be on time.’

‘If I want to be on time.’ James wagged his finger. ‘Which I don’t. I’m quite happy to be late. I don’t exactly want to spend my Sunday morning doing extra maths with a tutor.’

‘Maybe,’ Martin said. ‘But that is how you’re spending your Sunday morning, and it’s disrespectful to turn up late.’

‘I don’t see why I have to.’

‘You know why.’

‘But I don’t care about Maths! I don’t like it.’

‘You still have to pass your GCSE. And get a good grade.’ Martin sighed. ‘Look. I know it doesn’t come easily to you. And you’ve had a hard year’ – that was an understatement; James had effectively missed most of the school year after Maggie disappeared – ‘and got behind, which isn’t your fault. But whatever the reason, you do need to catch up. And this is the way to do it.’

‘But it’s so lame.’

‘I know. Still, it’s only an hour and a half. And then you’ll be free. We can go to the game.’

‘Can I go to Louise’s house?’

‘Is she expecting you?’

James nodded. ‘I said I’d be there at lunchtime.’

‘So you don’t want to come to the rugby with me?’

James glanced at him quickly, but it was long enough for Martin to see guilt in his expression.

‘I do,’ he said. ‘But I told Louise …’

His voice tailed off; Martin patted him on the knee. ‘It’s OK, Jimbo. You want to see your girlfriend and not your old man. I understand.’ He gave a theatrical sigh. ‘I remember when you were a little boy how you used to trail around after me. You were like a second shadow. But now you don’t even want to go to watch the rugby with me.’