The Wife Before Me(64)

‘They’re not interesting at these ages,’ he told her once. ‘It’ll be different when they’re older.’

The front door slams. Rigid, her hands gripping the edge of Joel’s cot, she hears footsteps mounting the stairs. The bedroom door is still ajar but the footsteps stop before they reach her. Another door is opened, closed. She sags with relief and moves to the window to check the driveway. As she suspected from the heavy tread, it’s Henry who has arrived home.

Relieved that he hadn’t entered the kitchen and noticed the unlocked door, she leaves Joel’s room. Rosemary’s warnings ring loudly in her ears as she descends the stairs. The step that creaks sounds like a scream. Afraid to stop, she runs through the kitchen and locks the patio door from the outside. In the shed, she crouches down and tries to remember which paint tin was used to hide the key. Had she found it under the green or the yellow? Unable to decide, she shoves it beneath a tin in the middle of the row.

‘Stay where you are, punk.’ Henry is standing behind her, no longer soft-voiced or affable. ‘If you move I’ll crack your head in two with this axe.’

Elena stands and pulls both ends of the hood tightly over her forehead and cheeks. He is correct about the axe. It swings loosely from one hand, deceptively so. She recognises the charged-up energy Nicholas always projected before he struck her. But Henry is not violent like his son… or is he? What does she know about anyone anymore? Elena thinks over her options. She can charge into him and try to knock him over, but he will catch up with her before she has climbed the gate.

‘Don’t even think about it.’ Henry, reading her mind, blocks the shed doorway. Does he have that same canny awareness as Nicholas? The ability to know how she will react to a given situation? Maybe he is more like his son than she thinks. ‘There’s a squad car on the way,’ he continues. ‘You can explain to the guards why you broke into my house.’

‘Put the axe down, Henry.’ She pulls back the hood and lifts her chin defiantly. The last time she saw him he was stony-faced, avoiding her eyes across the courtroom while the judge decided whether or not bail should be granted.

‘Good grief!’ He steps backwards, his craggy face wrinkling with shock. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘I had to come.’ The explanation is simple but useless. ‘I’ve tried so often to see my children. Nicholas keeps delaying my appeal for visiting rights and no one answers my letters or takes my calls―’

‘That’s because we’re under no obligation to do so.’ His tone is harsh but the pumped-up aggression has left him. Keeping his eyes on her, he reaches behind him and props the axe against the wall. ‘You lost your right to the care of those children when you attacked their father.’

‘He was violent towards me. You must believe me. How long are you and Yvonne going to close your eyes to his behaviour?’

‘My son is not a violent man. He loved you―’

‘He pretended to love me, just as he pretended to love Amelia. He destroyed us both.’

‘You’re lying.’ He sounds sad but certain. ‘I was so pleased when Nicholas met you. A new beginning for him, I thought. But you could never cope with playing second fiddle to his feelings for Amelia.’

‘Is that what he’s told you?’

‘It’s what I saw with my own eyes. You imitated her. The hairstyle, the make-up, the same clothes. You lost yourself, Elena. And then you turned on Nicholas―’

‘You’re right.’ She nods, dully. ‘He mesmerised me and I allowed it to happen. When he beat me, he made sure the marks didn’t show. He’d had time to practise on Amelia. That’s why she went into the water. Death was preferable to being married to your son.’

She thinks he will bring her to the ground. The tension in his body – she knows the signs. The closing down of emotion until all that remains is the blood urge. She shrinks back, as if she can already feel the impact of his fists.

‘I won’t allow you to make those wild accusations about my son.’ His shoulders slump, his hands uncurl. ‘You’ve broken your barring order. I’ll make sure you take full responsibility for breaking into my house.’

‘I won’t be silenced, Henry—’

‘We both know what will happen when the police arrive.’ He cuts her short and checks his watch. ‘They should be here in two minutes or less. Whatever chance you had of getting your children back again has been wiped out by your recklessness. Nicholas could have died by your hand―’

‘Amelia told you, didn’t she? That’s why Yvonne called her a diva. She said there was always some drama going on around her. But, being beaten up is not a drama―’

‘Stop.’ He licks his lips, as if aware that spittle has dried on the corner of his mouth. ‘You retracted the statement you made to the police. My son has a clean slate but you, on the other hand, are mentally deranged. What credibility does that give you?’

‘Did Amelia confide in―’

‘No, she did not,’ he shouted. ‘I refuse to listen to any more of your babbling nonsense.’ He steps to one side and stares above her head. ‘If you have another truth, then go and find it.’

The doorway is clear, a channel to freedom. Is he toying with her? Will he pin her to the wall as she runs past, drag her down from the gate when she tries to climb it? Henry is not like his son… not like his son… Elena lowers her head and sprints past him. He makes no effort to detain her as she clambers over the gate. She is free and running towards the shrubbery on the green.