Silent Victim(40)
As his frown returned, I realised it was Mummy who was in trouble, not me. It gave me a certain satisfaction that I wasn’t the only person who got things wrong.
Quickly, Daddy changed the sheets and dressed me for bed. Tugging at my curtains, he opened them wide and left them that way. I liked it when Daddy was home. I scooted to the edge of the bed. The stale scent of urine hung in the air, the damp mattress soaking through the freshly laid sheets. Muffled voices filtered from my parents’ bedroom as my father asked my mother why she had insisted I drink so much before bed.
Mum denied it, of course, calling me an attention seeker and a liar. I knew what those words meant because I had been called them before.
I had come to hate the sound of her angry voice. It was a rough, grating noise, echoing like a trapped crow in the room. I wished that Daddy didn’t have to go away, so Mummy could be happy all the time and wouldn’t drink the brown stuff from the bottle that made her so mad.
‘You’ve been drinking again, haven’t you? For Christ’s sake, Isobel, she’s four years old,’ my father said, and I wondered what my age had to do with it.
The bedsprings bounced and squeaked as if to signal it was the end of the conversation. I imagined my mother turning around to face the wall, grasping handfuls of blankets in her bony fists.
A light switch clicked off, and the sound of change rattled against the floor as my father undressed. It was a comforting noise. But morning would bring more disapproval after he left. I whimpered, tears pricking my eyes.
‘Emma,’ a voice said from so very far away. ‘Emma. It’s OK. It’s just a dream.’
I blinked in the darkness at the hand gently shaking my shoulder. Disorientated and groggy, it still felt as if I were a child, back in the room where Jamie now slept. ‘What?’ I murmured, taking a slow breath.
Alex stretched to switch on his bedside lamp. ‘You were crying in your sleep. Are you all right?’
I touched my cheeks, which were wet with tears. No wonder the dream felt so real. I steadied my voice, vowing my son would never hear the harsh whispers that had been a backdrop to my childhood. ‘I’m OK; sorry I woke you.’
Seconds ticked by as we lay in the dark, my past circling around us like a kettle of vultures. Slowly, Alex’s hand reached across the void and cupped mine.
I squeezed it back. ‘It’s going to be OK,’ I whispered. ‘We’ll get through this.’
But my voice contained more confidence than I felt.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
EMMA
2017
Spikes of rain hammered my car windscreen, making me curse the inclement weather. It felt like a lifetime since I had enjoyed the sun on my face. It would have been better to stay at home and talk things through with Alex, but Josh had been unable to cover my shift at work. Not that I expected customers in this weather. For once, my diary was free of appointments, and I was very tempted to tell Theresa to shut the shop for the afternoon. But I had forced myself out of the house just the same. Besides, it was bring your teddy to school day today, and Jamie could not wait to participate in the indoor picnic they had planned for lunch. I was all too aware that I was running late as the clock on the car’s dashboard showed 11 a.m. By the time I got the buggy out of the boot and put Jamie in, he would be soaked. I pulled up the handbrake and turned round to face my son. ‘I’m just going to get a parking ticket from the machine. It’s just over there,’ I pointed. ‘You stay here in the warm, and I’ll be back in a second.’
Jamie nodded, staring out at the rain. I rooted through the glove compartment for change. Like many family cars, the space was stuffed with a half-eaten packet of sweets, wet wipes, receipts and old coins. Taking the keys from the ignition, I shoved them in my pocket before pulling out my red umbrella and opening it through the crack in the door. ‘Back in one second,’ I said once again. ‘You can watch.’
Like a meerkat, Jamie’s head bobbed as he tried to get a clear view of outside. ‘But I can’t see, Mummy,’ he said, straining against his straps towards the breath-fogged pane.
Turning back in my seat, I clicked the button of his seat belt, allowing him enough freedom to watch me get the ticket. ‘I’m going to lock the car, OK? You stay inside and watch Mummy. I won’t be a second.’
Hunching my shoulders, I pulled my collar up and faced the rain. It pattered hard against the thin fabric of my umbrella, and I activated the car’s central locking system before tottering through the puddles towards the ticket machine. I had the sense to wear trousers today, my billowing blouse kept dry beneath my long fleece coat. I rifled through my change, depositing it into the machine. I was just about to turn round when the sudden screech of car tyres filled the air, chilling me to the marrow of my bones. Time seemed to stop in that second and I was snapped back into reality as I heard a child’s cry. Jamie. My child.
‘No! No, no,’ the syllables fired from my mouth as my umbrella fell to the ground. My eyes flitted from my car door that was wide open and the 4 × 4 parked awkwardly nearby. I sprinted towards it, my eyes fixed on the small hand jutting out on the concrete, and the teddy bear thrown to one side.
‘Oh my God!’ The driver’s screams filled the air as she scrambled out of her Range Rover, almost tumbling over herself in her haste to reach my son.