The One Who Got Away

by L. A. Detwiler

  I squeeze his hand again, firm now. ‘Charles, I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you. You’re it for me. Whatever life we have or don’t have, it doesn’t matter. I just want you. All of you, every day, from here on out. Please. Please, don’t make us be apart.’

  He sighs, but his eyes soften. I know I’m reaching him. ‘So, what’s your plan?’

  ‘We leave. We leave this place in the morning. We get on the train, and we leave. We go anywhere. Near London. I don’t know. Wherever you think there will be work. Wherever you want to start a life.’

  ‘It’s not that simple, Addy.’

  ‘It can be. We’ll be all right. I’ve managed to set some money aside,’ I reassure.

  ‘I won’t live off money you’ve nicked,’ he says, and for once, I wish Charles wasn’t so principled.

  ‘It’s fine, Charles. Please. Please just trust me.’

  He shakes his head, a smirk forming. ‘You do realise that you’re impossible to say no to, don’t you?’

  I smile back. ‘Good. Then it’s settled. We leave tomorrow. We can leave in the middle of the night, grab the first train in the morning. I’ll have a bag packed.’

  ‘What about your parents? I don’t want them to worry.’

  ‘I’ll leave a note explaining everything.’

  ‘And won’t you feel terrible leaving? Won’t you miss them?’

  I consider the question. There have been good moments growing up, it’s true. But looking at Charles, I know these moments are nothing compared to what we could have if I can just escape the clutches of West Green, of my past, of my choices. I need to start over. I need to start somewhere safe.

  I think, too, about Phyllis. About leaving her here to fend for herself, with Oliver and the killer on the loose. My stomach sinks with guilt, but it can’t be helped. I have to do what’s best for me and believe she’ll be all right.

  ‘I will and I won’t. I know they’ll be fine without me. They’ll be just fine.’

  ‘And what about the time until we leave? Addy, who knows what Oliver’s capable of. There’s also the West Green Killer to think about. Who knows what could happen to us. I still think we should warn your parents.’

  I stare out into the street, feeling a sudden shiver at the thought I could be making a choice that will seal my death. What if this is a mistake? What if Charles is correct? Should we tell my parents?

  ‘You’ll keep an eye out, and we’ll be careful. That’s all,’ I reassure.

  ‘This is insane,’ Charles whispers, kissing my forehead.

  I smile. ‘Isn’t love always a bit insane? It will be fine, Charles. You’ll see. Just trust me.’

  He rests his chin on my shoulder, his nose brushing my cheek. ‘I’m going to keep watch, then. I’m going to be parked out here tonight to make sure nothing happens.’

  ‘I can live with that,’ I murmur.

  I lean into Charles now, who gives the letter back. I shudder at the thought that I might be making the wrong choice. I chill at the thought he could come tonight or tomorrow, could strike before I can get away.

  I count to three in my mind. It’ll all be fine. Just a few more hours. Just a few more hours to survive – the killer, Oliver, my secret, and the goodbyes my family doesn’t even know are coming.

  ***

  I don’t sleep that night. Not a wink. I spend the night staring out my bedroom window, watching the street, and waiting for a killer or Oliver, neither of which comes. I rock in the chair by my window, thinking about all that’s happened, and thinking about the future. Am I making the right choice? It’s crazy that life has come to this.

  But it isn’t just this threatening letter that’s made the choice for me. No, I made that choice months ago. Because in truth, as insane as it sounds, it isn’t just the letter that has sent me out of town. It’s the fear of the truth coming out, of all being lost. It’s the realisation that I’ll never be free of Oliver if I stay here. I’ll never be free to live the life I want, to be with Charles, and to be faithful to the man who means everything to me.

  Sometimes a woman must do the unspeakable to salvage a life worth living. My mind flashes back to the moment I realised how dangerous Oliver Parsons was. Life in West Green didn’t become dangerous with the murder of Elizabeth. Life in West Green became dangerous for me before that – it became dangerous when I learned that the man I once loved was an unpredictable villain lying in wait.

  ***

  ‘What have you done?’ his voice snarled from the doorway to my room. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and wishing I could die.

  I’d known the termination would be risky. The man in the back room had warned me before we started that things could go wrong, but he also implied that he was more skilled than most. Phyllis had held my hand during the entire, agonising procedure. She’d clutched me as I screamed in pain, both physical and mental, as the life of the baby was snuffed out – and, in my young mind, my soul with it.

  I’d returned home barely conscious, barely functioning. Phyllis had offered to ‘have me over for a visit’ the next day, her parents mercifully out of town. I’d obliged, and I’d managed to paint on a faux smile convincing enough to ensure Mum I was okay. I was not. The healing process had taken weeks. I was a lucky one, though. I’d made it. Nevertheless, the pains came and went. The emotional agony, however, never left.

  I’d killed it. I’d murdered the baby I’d never hold. I was a beast, it was true. And although I was thankful to cut the tie to Oliver, there was a piece of me that was drowning in guilt. I feared I always would. I was afraid that I’d never piece together a life beyond that defining moment. What had I done? What had I done to the baby, to my own life? I hated Oliver for the decision I made – but more than that, I despised myself.

  I sat up in bed, my muscles aching from the movement. It had been several weeks since the procedure – and it had been several weeks since I’d seen Oliver, breaking up with him the night before I carried out my choice. His veiled threats and scorned face told me all I needed to know – there was no backing out. It had to be done. I had to sever any ties to the man who would destroy every piece of happiness I ever had.

  I strained to stand now, to face whatever he was here for, but he stormed across the room, shoving me back down. I whimpered in pain.

  ‘How fucking dare you,’ he bellowed, seething. I saw something in his eyes that I had seen all too many times before.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ I asked, trying to steady my voice while not meeting his eyes. I was shaking, though, petrified of what he would do. With Mum and Dad out to dinner, I was alone and at his mercy. This was not somewhere I wanted to be.

  He leaned closer, his face red, his mouth sneering. ‘I know what you did, you slag. You think I don’t have eyes everywhere? It took some digging because you covered your tracks, but when you have enough money, well, you can find out anything you desire.’

  I shook my head. It couldn’t be Phyllis. It wouldn’t be Phyllis. Regardless, I cowered as I realised the truth. He knew. And he was never going to be okay with it.

  ‘I-I don’t know what you’re talking a-about,’ I stuttered, trying to cover the truth.

  ‘Don’t fucking lie to me! I fucking know you killed our baby. How dare you? You don’t make that decision. I do. I make the decisions.’

  I blinked at him, staring into his face, wondering how it all was uncovered and wondering how many people he’d told. My life, which was already on a downward spiral, was spinning out of control.

  ‘How did you find out?’ I whispered.

  ‘I have my ways. Your friend Phyllis wouldn’t talk, but her brother’s friend did. Oh, did he give me the details. I figured out the rest, traced down the place. You slag. You selfish slag,’ he spewed at me. In the middle of my quaking fear, though, I found it oddly comforting to know it wasn’t Phyllis. Nevertheless, I knew it wouldn’t matter in the end who had told him. The bottom line was that Oliver knew. He knew every single
, sordid detail.

  Strength surged in me, as did my resolve to stand up for myself.

  ‘Oliver, you’re a monster. I can’t handle a life with you.’

  ‘Me a monster? You fucking killed the baby. You didn’t have the right.’ He paced in my room now, anger dripping from his every movement.

  ‘We weren’t ready for a baby. I couldn’t support a baby. I couldn’t.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have had to. What, do you think I would let my child, my heir, be uncared for? I would have provided financially, and you know that. Don’t even try to excuse your disgusting behaviour. I was going to marry you. Do you know what you’ve done? You ruined your chance to be married to me. Your station would’ve been better than you could’ve dreamt. You would’ve had the life. The perfect life. And now it’s all gone to bloody hell. You’ve blown it all to hell.’ He chided me like I’m a scolded child, a wayward dog. Even now, the condescension simmered beneath his words.

  ‘And what? Had your mistresses on the side? Dictated my every move? Abused me? Is that how you would’ve provided for us?’ I snapped, and then my cheek burned with the sting of his slap.

  ‘Don’t talk to me like that. Don’t you ever talk to me like that, you trollop.’ He shook with rage.

  I looked up into his simmering eyes and recognised the life I left behind. I hated that it took the choice I made to get away, but I did get away.

  I smiled up at him. ‘This is why I chose not to have the baby,’ I replied coolly. I gestured to his quaking body.

  His anger cooled as he unclenched his jaw and unfurled his constricting fists. Something else filled in where the anger had been residing – something exponentially more frightening.

  ‘So,’ he said now, smirking, sitting on the side of the bed. He tapped his chin. I shuddered at his sudden calmness. ‘You think because you killed our child, you’re free now? You think you can just leave me behind? What you did changes nothing.’

  ‘Oliver, please. It’s done. No one needs to know. We can go our separate ways.’

  ‘You’re right. It would be painful to admit to the world that you were in my bed, a woman way beneath me.’

  I shook my head, tears falling. What did I ever see in him? How did I ever think I loved him?

  ‘But, on the other hand, oh wouldn’t everyone be so interested to hear about Addy Walker and her escapades? Wouldn’t it be great for them to know the real you?’ he murmured.

  I shook uncontrollably. ‘Oliver, please,’ I replied. I hated that I had stooped to begging. He always loved when I grovelled. He had always liked to be reminded of my weakness and his own strength.

  He stood now from the bed, and I trembled, wondering what was next. I couldn’t let this get out. I couldn’t have the world knowing my shame, knowing what I did. What would it do to Mum and Dad? What would it do to me, to my reputation? And what would happen to the man who helped me in that alley when no one would? Most of all, what would happen when, every single day, I had to face the piteous or seething glares in the street? It was a small town. People would talk. I’d never escape what I’d done. I’d never be able to stop living in that nightmarish choice, in those whirls of regret. I’d be swallowed up by guilt, by the faceless baby that I’d killed.

  Oliver rushed over to me in several quick, large strides. My chest heaved as he grabbed my face, his hands squeezing my chin as his other hand wielded a knife. Where did the knife come from? He held the blade to my neck.

  ‘You’re never leaving. Do you understand me? You’re mine. You’re mine to control. You don’t get a say in anything you do. You belong to me. You will always be mine. No matter where you are or how far you think you stray from me, just know. You’re mine if I want you to be. Always mine.’

  I trembled, my hands clutching the quilt as tears blurred my vision. He held the knife in my face for a long moment, his teeth gritted as he heaved in air.

  And then, without warning, he tossed me back on the bed, his hand releasing my chin. Before I could process all that had happened, he’d turned and left. His footsteps echoed in the corridor and then down the stairs as he stormed off, leaving me crumpled on my bed in a whirl of confusion and terror. My lips trembled, and tears crashed onto the quilt.

  I spent the next hour choking on sobs and sorrows, wondering what I should do or how to escape the mess. And wondering how long I’d be at Oliver’s mercy, enduring his reign of terror.

  ***

  For days after, I remained in a shaken state of fear, wondering when he’d return. Flashes of Oliver with the knife at my throat kept me checking out the window and jumping at every noise. Was this really the man I’d fallen for? What had happened to him? I’d always known he was controlling, a bit cocky – but violent? I’d never thought him capable of what I’d seen in my room.

  I awaited his return, trembling at the thought of him reappearing with his knife. Would the anger over what I’d done stew and boil? How far would the rage push him? I waited and waited – but Oliver didn’t return. I’d passed him in town, the sight of him causing me to avert my eyes. But there wasn’t an overt sign that what had happened in my room was real. To see Oliver in public, one would think I’d imagined it, that I was the lunatic.

  Still, as the months passed, it was clear Oliver was just keeping me waiting. It was, after all, the waiting, the anticipating, the knowing what he was capable of that was perhaps worse than the knife at my throat. So many times, I thought about telling someone the truth. I thought over and over about telling Charles once he was in my life.

  But I didn’t. I couldn’t. It wasn’t just me I was protecting. It was Phyllis. It was the man who helped me that dark night. And, in a twisted way in my mind, I suppose it was the baby, too. The baby’s life shouldn’t be tainted by the ugly words that would come. I didn’t want to hear my Mum talk about how I’d sent the baby to hell, unbaptised. I didn’t want to hear people picturing my baby burning in the hellfire. I wanted to preserve its unlived life for myself.

  I trace out my name on the fog on the window now, smiling with the thought that I’m getting away. Charles will take me away, and I’ll leave this horrid place behind. All the mistakes. All the murders. All the terrors I’ve faced. West Green has never been kind to me, it’s true. But no more. No more Oliver. No more threats. Oliver can say whatever he wants after I leave. He can tell the entire gory truth if he so chooses. He can tell everyone what a horrible woman I am and what a terrible thing I’ve done – because I’ll be gone, long gone, a new life started. It simply can’t come soon enough.

  Chapter 35

  West Green, Crawley, West Sussex

  15 August 1959

  I steady my hands as I set the note on the kitchen table. I glance around in the darkness, my bag on my back. I absorb the familiar sights of the kitchen, the living area once more. This is it, the finale to my time here. There’s no returning after this. I’m sealing my fate.

  A part of me is jittery at the prospect. Charles and I are taking so many risks. What if we can’t make it? What if this is a huge mistake? We’re both walking away from everything for this. Still, I know that the risk of staying behind is even greater. There is really no choice – not if I love Charles. Not if I want a new life with him. Not if I want to escape Oliver, the guilt, and my parents’ judging gazes.

  The house is so dark, too dark to fully appreciate it. Will I miss the kitchen where we baked tarts? Will I think about this house, about the moments we had here? I don’t know. I don’t have time to consider it all. We need to get going if we’re going to leave this place behind.

  It’s a risk leaving now. Dad will be getting up in a few hours, catching the train at the same station we’re leaving from. But our plan is to be there early, to be first on the train and out of town before he has a chance to board his. And then we’ll leave and never, ever look back.

  I tuck the note on the table, using the salt shaker as an anchor. I glance over the words one last time.

  Dear Mum and Dad,
>
  I know this may come as a shock to you, but perhaps it won’t. Perhaps you’ve always known I’ve been ready to get away from this place. But I can’t do it without Charles. It’s our time to start something new together, and I’m ready to explore our life beyond the limits of West Green. I want to start our life together now.

  Charles and I have decided to elope. I know he isn’t the man you thought I should be with, but I love him. I think we can have a happy life together, and I want that life to start now. I want to get away from this town and all it holds for me. I want to start over.

  I’m sorry to leave you this way, but if I move with you, I can’t be with him. I’m happy, and I’ll be safe. Once we’re married and settled, I’ll try to write to you. And maybe someday after everything has calmed down, we can visit. But for now, just know I’m out there seeing the world and living my life.

  I want you to take care and to be safe. West Green is no longer the place we thought it was. I love you. Take care.

  Addy

  I hold the second letter, the one from Oliver, for a long moment. Should I leave it behind? Or perhaps I should just take it with me. It won’t do to have Mum and Dad snooping around will it? Then again, once I leave, it will be Oliver who is left to paint the picture. I don’t like that idea.

  With a trembling hand, I make the decision to leave Oliver’s note behind. It may not make sense, but at least Mum will understand that Oliver isn’t the man he claims to be. Perhaps if Oliver decides to tell the town about my transgressions, Mum will have a glimpse into the real kind of man he is.

  I set Oliver’s note under the shaker, alongside my letter to my parents, studying it once more. With an air of assurance, I turn and glance at my home that is no longer a home one last time before silently opening the door, my bag on my back, and walking out into the darkness to meet Charles.

  ***

  ‘I need to make one more stop,’ I murmur, gripping Charles’ hand. He is pale, quieter than usual. I know this is terrifying for him, too.