Silent Victim(2)
‘Just five more minutes,’ I said, turning back to look at Jamie, who was grunting as he tried to hoist his leg into the bucket swing.
‘Daddy!’ Jamie squealed, and I watched as Alex swung him around before plopping him into the seat and giving him a hefty push. He was a strong and capable father but, all the same, I found myself biting my lip as my over-protective streak kicked in. Catching my worried glare, Alex brought the swing to a steady pace, despite Jamie’s cries to go higher.
‘I’ve got some good news,’ Alex said, giving me a furtive sideways glance. It was enough to tell me that his perception of good news might be different from mine.
‘You’ve not gone and bought that car, have you? Diesel engines are pollutants on wheels,’ I said, my eyes following Jamie as he swung back and forth. Alex could pick his moments, waiting until I was distracted with our son before dropping any bombshells. He knew I would never argue in front of him.
‘Give over,’ Alex said, ‘as if I’d dare.’ His Leeds accent filtered through his words. He masked it in the office, changing the rhythm and tone to mimic his upper-class clients. I liked that he could be himself with me. ‘No, it’s about work . . .’
I took a sharp intake of breath. The fog was coming down so thick that I could taste it on my tongue.
Alex flashed me a smile. ‘I’ve been offered the promotion . . .’
‘In Leeds.’ I finished his sentence, trying hard to hide my reluctance because I could not offer a reason as to why we could not go. At least not one I could disclose.
‘Yes,’ he said, giving Jamie one last push. ‘They’ve given me the job.’
Opening my arms, I took him in an embrace, but inside my heart was dropping like a stone. ‘Well done, love. I know how much this means to you.’
‘Not just me.’ He drew away, his dark eyes searching mine. ‘To all of us. Living in Leeds is going to be a whole fresh start. You can branch out with your business, and we can enrol Jamie in a private school.’
‘Push, Daddy, puuuuussh,’ Jamie squealed, kicking out with his feet to gain momentum.
I fixed the smile that had slid from my face. My reluctance to move had been a bone of contention between us for what felt like a lifetime; all because I was not strong enough to face up to my past. ‘Our house could take for ever to sell,’ I said, clinging on to the hope that our departure would be delayed.
‘That’s my second bit of good news,’ Alex said. ‘I’ve got someone interested in the property.’
I should have known. My husband managed the Colchester branch of the estate agency that he worked for. Although he sold mainly up-market properties, they sometimes had enquiries from buyers with less cash to spare.
He hoisted Jamie up from the swing and spoke over his shoulder as he gave him a squeeze. ‘They say it comes in threes; we should buy a lottery ticket on the way home.’
With Jamie in his left arm, he threw his right one over my shoulder and the two of us walked to the car. I should have felt safe, protected by his strength, but my mind was racing as news of the move sank in. I strapped Jamie into his car seat, my stomach clenching from the sudden sense of dread. I could not hide from the past any longer. It was time to go back there. To face what I had done.
CHAPTER TWO
ALEX
2017
‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ Sweeping a hand across the brooding landscape, I stood at the open back door. My words belied my thoughts. I could not wait to get out of this godforsaken place. I smiled sweetly at Mark and Kirsty, the young couple viewing our home. Not that it had felt like home to me. Despite Emma placing my name on the deeds, I had felt like an intruder from the day I moved in. It was quaint enough, with its weatherboard exterior and red roof tiles, but the interior needed a serious cash injection, and was a poor comparison to the show homes in which I spent my working day. It was hardly any wonder I was too embarrassed to invite my colleagues round.
Giving our viewers the full treatment, I glossed over the house’s flaws using the words ‘rustic’, ‘quaint’ and ‘charming’. ‘You can put your stamp on it,’ I said. ‘Plenty of room for your personalities to shine through.’ Their nodding heads told me that the tour of our three-bedroom cottage had gone down well. I glanced at my watch, a pang of guilt making itself known. It was the first time I had gone behind my wife’s back. I wanted to tell her about the viewing, but she had sabotaged my efforts to move too many times before. Not that she’d ever admit that. I loved Emma with all my heart: clever, talented and perpetually enigmatic Emma. Life had never been dull in her company. The puzzling thing was that, deep down, I knew she wanted to move. Perhaps it was the guilt of leaving her family home that was holding her back. Then again, her father had died years ago. Whatever the excuse, this place had dug its claws firmly into her and refused to release her. But this time I was ready, and had an answer for every excuse. The viewing couple would not be the first artists drawn to Mersea Island. Mark raved about the network of creeks and boardwalks that crisscrossed the marshes, while his wife delighted in the shapes, textures and colours of the nearby beach. I nodded in all the right places, attempting to share their enthusiasm. It was all a lie. Where they saw striking abandoned boats on the foreshore, I saw rotting wooden skeletons jutting out of the slime. As they spoke of the Strood, they came up with romantic notions of the island’s history. It was something I was all too happy to capitalise on.