Silent Victim(84)
CHAPTER EIGHTY
EMMA
2017
Sweat slicked my skin, the heat of the flames making it hot and blistered. Fingers pressed into my flesh and shook my shoulder hard. Slowly, my eyelids fluttered open, and I realised I had passed out on the floor. I recoiled as I saw Luke beside me, blood pooling beneath his head. A horrible sense of déjà vu encompassed me, and the scene took on a surreal tone.
‘Get up,’ Theresa coughed, grabbing the fire extinguisher and turning it back on. The butt of the metal was streaked with blood. With one hand, she wrenched me from the ground. ‘Out the back. I’ll keep you covered.’
I stumbled through the smoke and flames towards the back door, my legs like rubber bands. Light bulbs popped and fizzed overhead, sprinkling us in glass. In the hall, the smoke alarm beeped beneath the full roar of the hungry fire. Hissing and spitting, it consumed all in its path, and soon we would be next. Plunged in darkness, I had only the flames to light my way. My lungs felt like they were caving in on me as I heaved for breath. I fought to stay conscious as my world closed in. I presumed Theresa was behind me until I heard Luke call her name. He was still going, still after us – still alive. I was in the kitchen now, and the scene took on a dreamlike quality as I turned around to find her. But my legs buckled beneath me as darkness closed in once more.
Looking up into the face of my husband I wondered if I was dreaming. A flashing blue light illuminated the night as he hovered over me. The cool night air touched my blistered skin, and I realised I was outside. For a second time I tried to call out Theresa’s name. ‘Thank God you’re OK,’ he said, answering my question. My lungs were burning as I drew in air, feeling as if I was breathing in hot coals. I grimaced as I tried to swallow, barely able to raise my head from the ground.
‘Shh, stay where you are. The ambulance is on its way.’
I blinked through the pain of crusted eyes as I watched my house go up in flames. The roof had caved in, and I knew whoever was still in there would not be coming out alive.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
EMMA
Twelve months later
The playground seems different today, and I’m glad Alex managed to persuade me to visit Mersea again. I watch as Jamie reacquaints himself with the equipment, his face alight with pride as he negotiates the slide he was too scared to climb before. I hold my husband’s hand as we stand side by side, watching him. I can’t believe we made it, after all we’ve both been through.
Alex has felt the change in me too. The couple who were going to buy our house in Mersea went ahead and bought the land. It felt strange to see new foundations on the site where our old place used to be. Given what had happened, it was probably for the best. Too many bad things had happened there. Malevolence had seeped into the very framework, causing misery and misfortune to its dwellers. The deaths within would be enough to put most people off, but luckily our buyers were willing to put aside such reservations.
Our new home in Leeds is so bright and airy in comparison. I wake up bathed in sunlight, which sets me up for the day ahead. Josh has made such a success of managing the Colchester branch of Something Borrowed that he’s had to take on extra staff. I’ve learned how to work the online side of things and am content with that for now. It frees up more time with Jamie and I love chatting with the other mums when I pick him up at the school gates. It feels good to envelop him in the warm hugs I was deprived of as a child. Alex’s family have embraced me into the fold, none the wiser of Jamie’s true parentage. Call it magical thinking, but Alex and I have come to an agreement. We are Jamie’s parents. The DNA test results have been destroyed. I didn’t deliberately set out to deceive my husband, because deep down I always saw Jamie as his. I’m still coming to terms with Theresa’s death but have finally managed to free myself from the shackles of guilt and remorse that kept me bound. She’s buried beside Mum in Colchester, and I’m visiting their graves later today. Josh has been so kind, placing flowers in my absence.
There’s only one dark cloud on the horizon. In the quiet times, he creeps into my thoughts. Sometimes I think I catch a glimpse of him: a man sitting in a passing bus, a hooded figure in the distance. Other times I feel his eyes on the back of my neck. I know he’s dead but I half expect him to return. I think of the day I almost killed him, how he taunted me about all those girls. I take comfort in the knowledge that he cannot prey on such innocence again. At least everything is out in the open now. I told the police the truth, and after months of investigation, Mum has finally been put to rest.
Releasing my hand, Alex hoists Jamie on to the swing.
‘Higher, Daddy, higher,’ he giggles, and this time I am happy to let him fly. I’m not going to waste another second of my life fretting. I sit in the swing beside him, push it back as I stand on my tiptoes and launch myself into the air.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Thank you for reading Silent Victim. The subject of grooming and abuse is one I have encountered many times in my career, having worked in specialised roles dealing with vulnerable victims and sexual abuse cases. For each case I have handled, there are many more which have gone unreported owing to fear, unwarranted shame or social stigma.
I would urge anyone in such circumstances to find help, whether it be from the police, a family member, or one of the many helplines available to people in need. It is important for victims to know they are not alone, and equally important to report past abuse to ensure it doesn’t happen again.