Silent Victim(22)

I opened my mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Theresa’s urgent whispers.

‘Oh crap, my boss has just come in and he’s funny about me using the phone. I’ll pop over to see you as soon as I get some time off. Is that OK?’

‘Sure,’ I said, attempting to inject some cheer into my voice. The last thing I wanted was to be responsible for my sister getting into trouble at work. ‘And, Sis, I’m fine, don’t worry about me,’ I said, wiping away my silent tears. ‘I know what I have to do.’





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

EMMA





2017


I was awoken by the sound of giggling coming from the living room. I had not expected to hear it, given what had happened the night before. That was the beauty of having a child: life went on no matter what. Despite this, my heart was so heavy I could barely slip my feet into my fluffy slippers as I trudged out of my bedroom in my dressing gown. I took a soothing breath before pushing open the door of the living room. I had this. I was still in control. I thought about the breakfast my husband would insist I eat. The last thing I wanted today was food. As I stood with my fingers on the door handle, my stomach churned with the burden of my recent confession. I could not believe that I had finally done it. I listened to my husband and child laughing on the other side of the door, and smiled in spite of myself. I struggled to remember the happy days in my childhood, but then I had been hard to get through to. I did not want that for my son. He needed to know that there were people around him who loved him. People who would never leave him or let him down. I would have to pull myself together. Alex was still here, despite everything I had told him.

As I opened the living-room door, the sight of my son instantly warmed my heart. Sundays were family time and Alex and Jamie had already begun. They were sitting at the coffee table, their heads side by side as they played the pie game. A timer buzzed as a plastic hand laden with squirty cream threatened to splat the loser and a loud clacking noise sounded as each frantically pressed the button to guide the hand towards the other. I watched Alex ease off pressing the button, putting himself in range. Jamie was almost in convulsions he was laughing so hard. As the cream hit Alex’s unshaven face, he looked so ridiculous I could not help but join in. Alex licked the cream and rubbed the remainder away with a tea towel. He caught my eye and a flicker of regret passed between us. It was still there, the horror of what I had done. But he was doing everything he could to make our son’s life as normal as possible and I loved him for it.

‘It’s your turn, Mummy,’ Jamie squeaked, and I knelt down to join him, squeezing my eyes tightly shut. By the time we had finished our game we had all experienced the joy of a cream pie. But I was the only one who had not tasted it. My memory of my encounter with the cream cake the night before made me feel sick. This time I kept my lips tightly closed as I wiped the offending substance away. It was all about maintaining self-control. Right now, that was something I needed more than ever.

Speaking in front of Jamie was not an option. Instead, we skirted around each other, ignoring the elephant in the room until our son went down for his afternoon nap. I had smothered him in kisses, absorbing his goodness to make up for the lack of my own.

Alex had his back to me when I returned to the living room. It warmed me to listen to my husband on the phone to his mother. We saw Louise for the usual holidays, as well as the anniversary of Alex’s father’s death. It would be nice to spend more time together when we moved to Leeds. I stood in the doorway, listening in to his call. There was no way my husband would reveal what I’d told him to his seventy-year-old mother on the telephone. The very thought was ridiculous. Just what would he say? Guess what, Mum, my wife murdered her stalker and now his body’s disappeared, but we’re all fine, we had a game of pie face this morning. No, if he were to confide in Louise it would be face-to-face. I felt my heart tighten. I had to convince him we needed to keep this to ourselves.

He hung up the phone and I came into the living room, trying to appear relaxed as I tidied up Jamie’s toys. But we both knew it was all an act. I watched him as he stood poking some life into our open fire.

‘Bollocks,’ he said, pushing the blackened poker back into its holder. ‘I’ve just remembered. I’m supposed to go to Leeds tomorrow to meet the team.’ He stared unblinkingly into the flames. ‘I can’t just leave you.’

I hated seeing him like this, unable to meet my gaze. I stood beside him. I wondered if he had forgotten his earlier invitation to join him in Leeds or if he wanted to go alone. His muscles tensed as I placed my hand on his back. ‘Of course you can,’ I said, my hand resting on his woollen jumper. ‘How else are we ever going to leave this place? Besides, it wouldn’t do to call off sick when you’re due to meet everyone.’

‘I don’t know,’ he said, the flames reflected in his brooding eyes.

I rested my hand on his back, loath to take it away. I needed the contact. I needed a hug – but if he couldn’t meet my eye then genuine intimacy would be a long way off. ‘I’ll be fine,’ I said, softening my voice in an effort to show remorse. ‘Theresa’s meant to be coming over for a drink. I’ll persuade her to stay the night.’ But my words were hollow because I doubted she would. Theresa hated our house more than Alex did.

‘Are you sure you’ll be OK?’ Alex said, turning to face me.