The Babysitter(82)

‘Come on, Poppet.’ Jade extended her hand. ‘You can help me feed Evie.’

Poppy’s gaze flicked worriedly to Jade. ‘But I don’t want to,’ she whimpered, bringing her knees up and shuffling towards the headboard, as though trying to make herself smaller. Yes, and Jade knew why.

‘Go!’ Melissa barked. ‘Now, Poppy, before I lose my temper.’

‘Come on, Poppet, come with me.’ Smiling reassuringly as Melissa turned back to whatever mad mission she was on, Jade walked towards the bed. She plucked up the speeding ticket, stuffing it in her pocket, before grabbing hold of the disobedient little brat’s arm. Poppy was shuffling further away, her face set in that infuriating petulant scowl she had.

‘We’ll watch a nice DVD later. How does that sound?’ Jade asked her sweetly, all but dragging a tearful Poppy to the door. Melissa, fortunately, was too busy pulling Mark’s clothes out of the wardrobe and going through pockets to notice.

Once on the landing, Jade whirled Poppy around to face her and leaned in to eyeball her meaningfully. ‘Who did your father say was in charge?’ she hissed, squeezing the child’s arm hard.

Poppy gulped back a sob. ‘You,’ she answered tremulously.

‘That’s right,’ Jade growled. ‘Now, do not cause me any trouble, sweetheart. Not unless you want me to tell your daddy you’ve been stealing. And, trust me, you don’t want me to do that. He’s already very annoyed with you.’





Fifty-Nine





MARK





As he came through the front door, Mark knew there was something wrong. Poppy didn’t come bounding excitedly to him. Instead, thumb in mouth, she sloped dejectedly towards him, glancing warily over her shoulder as she did.

‘What’s up, Poppet?’ Dumping his carrier bag, Mark crouched down to her level.

Poppy scanned his eyes, her own uncertain and… guarded?

‘Poppy?’ Mark eyed her questioningly.

‘Mummy’s angry,’ Poppy whispered, her wide eyes now brimming with tears.

Mark looked to Jade, who had appeared in the kitchen doorway. Evie in her arms, she shrugged helplessly and then looked nervously upwards as something crashed onto the floorboards above them.

‘Stay here, sweetheart,’ Mark said, giving Poppy a reassuring smile. ‘Do as Jade says. I’ll be back in a minute.’

Heading swiftly up, Mark went straight to the main bedroom, not bothering to knock.

‘Mel? What in God’s name are you doing?’ he asked, bewildered, as he saw Mel picking up clothes from the pile strewn on the bed. His clothes. ‘Melissa…’ Anger unfurled inside him as he watched her go through his pockets, tossing aside a pair of trousers and picking up another pair. ‘Would you like to tell me what’s going on here?’ he asked, now trying very hard not to lose it.

Mel didn’t answer him, just kept right on searching. But for what?

‘Melissa! What the hell are you looking for?’

‘I don’t know!’ Mel’s expression as she glared at him was one of sheer contempt. ‘Why don’t you tell me?’ She threw one of his jackets down and picked up another item. Realising it was a shirt and would yield nothing, she dropped that to the growing pile on the floor Mark felt his jaw tense, felt his life slipping away from him, like sand through a timer. ‘You need to stop this, Mel – now,’ he said, making no attempt to hide his growing fury.

Mel ignored him. ‘What will I find, Mark, hey?’ She walked stiffly over to his dressing table drawers, dragging them out to spew the contents onto the shirts. ‘Condoms?’ she spat. ‘Lube? Tell me’ – she whirled around – ‘what other dirty little secrets am I likely to find?’

What the…? Mark was stunned, in utter disbelief at this new twist in the madness. ‘Mel, stop,’ he said shakily. ‘You need to talk to me.’

‘You do use condoms, I take it?’ Mel spat venomously. She was killing him. She was fucking well crucifying him.

‘Mel! Stop!’ Mark caught hold of her arm, but Mel yanked it away.

‘Or is it more of a turn-on fucking prostitutes naked?’

‘For God’s sake! Where the hell is this coming from? You’re completely insane.’

‘Ha! Oh, yes, of course I am,’ Mel yelled, gesticulating wildly. ‘It’s all in my mind, isn’t it? I’m imagining it all, aren’t I?’

Mark didn’t speak. He couldn’t. His temper was way too close to spilling over.

‘Just like I imagined your sordid little affair with Lisa!’

Mark ran his hand hopelessly through his hair. He had no idea what to do. None.

‘Did I imagine you’ve been overmedicating me? Putting extra drugs in my drinks? Did I imagine that?’

‘What?’ Mark looked sharply back at her. ‘Look, Mel,’ he moved towards her, felt the foundations rock this time, crumbling beneath him. ‘I don’t know what you think I’ve done, but can we please—’

‘Do not try to deny it!’ Mel stepped back. ‘I have evidence!’

‘Evidence of what?’ Mark yelled, torn between guilt and gut-wrenching despair as he watched his wife dementedly dragging clothes from the bed, fumbling around, picking up envelopes, tearing them up.