Occupied

by Janet Preece

  Now, it was simply a waiting game until she was summoned. Hair perfect (ish), makeup on, bag packed. It was time to chill on the sofa with a movie: Eat, Pray, Love. She’d seen it a million times before – maybe not quite – but she knew every word to every scene. There were no surprises, it was just comfortable – as was she, as she lay back on the sofa and welcomed the chance to rest. Her blinks became longer and more frequent, and she finally succumbed to sleep. A little nap would refresh her, give her more energy for the evening, and her phone was next to her, so she wouldn’t miss a call.

  ‘What’s for dinner? Mum! Mum, are you home?’

  The wild-child returning from school with a slam of the door threw Julie out of her relaxed slumber. She looked around, confused. Where was she? What time was it? Why was William home? So many questions spun around in her head.

  A second slam of the door, then muffled chatter. ‘What do you look like?’ Jack’s voice as he looked down at her on the sofa with a snarl. At least he was home, not lying stabbed somewhere.

  Hold on a minute… Why was he home? Where was the babysitter? Why was she at home? She was supposed to be out, away with Dan. Maybe he was waiting until after he finished work at six? She cursed, realising she would have to get the boys’ food ready – the main thing she’d been looking forward to escaping.

  ‘Mum, where’s Tommy?’

  Tommy! Oh, shit!

  She dragged herself off the sofa, grabbed a coat and reached for the car keys, which weren’t there. Damn, Dan had taken them.

  Julie ran out the door, panting as she went, trying her best to make up time and not barge too many pedestrians. Her run was a shower of ‘Sorries!’ mixed with bumps and bruises and dotted with expletives. She tried phoning the school office as she ran but was so out of breath the receptionist hung up, probably assuming she was a prank caller.

  For fuck’s sake. She felt sick. Black mark for Julie. But it’s not my fault!

  When she finally reached the school, Tommy’s teacher didn’t make eye contact, only looked at her watch, an invisible tut hanging heavy in the air. The door was locked noisily behind them.

  ‘Mummy, why has your face melted?’

  ‘What do you mean, darling?’ Julie laughed, leaning in to the window to catch a glimpse. Oh, God. Her makeup had run down her cheeks. Smoky eyes. When would she learn, they just weren’t for her? As for the lipstick…well, small mercy she was late, and the other mums hadn’t seen her. Nobody welcomed a Killer Clown at school pickup!

  She cuddled into Tommy, her head rubbing against him.

  ‘Mummy, get off me!’ He squirmed and pulled away, staring back with fear in his eyes.

  ‘Don’t be scared, darling. Mummy was just playing with the, er…face paints.’ It had begun to rain, adding to her absurd appearance. ‘Shall we run home, get out of the rain?’

  Tommy sulked in response, then perked up a little. ‘More time on electronics tonight?’ he asked, and she nodded, then chased after him as he shot off like a bullet, grinning wide.

  ‘Wait up!’ Julie hollered up the street. ‘I’m not as quick as you!’

  But he was gone. He knew his way; she wasn’t concerned.

  Oven food. Pizza, crispy chicken and crinkle-cut chips. She repeated the mantra as she jogged home and through the door. They would like it or starve – she wasn’t in the mood for a fight. She needed some time to sort her face out.

  Julie opened the fridge, pulled out the vegetable drawer, then closed it again. Let the childminder worry about healthy eating for a change.

  ‘Dinner’s ready, guys!’ she shouted as she left the beige, processed, stodgy mass on the oven trays, a pile of plates on the side.

  Minimal effort, job done.

  Why hadn’t Dan called? There were no missed calls on her mobile. She tried dialling, and it went straight to voicemail. It didn’t feel right to call his office, but it was getting dark out, and she knew the hotel was a few hours’ drive away.

  Julie went back online to look up the details and wondered how late check-in would be and whether he’d pre-booked a dinner table. She braved his office number and waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  Nobody picked up.

  She could feel her anxiety returning just when she’d managed to get it all under control again. Breathe, just breathe. She tried the office once more, concerned he might have been in an accident on his way home, praying her next call wouldn’t be to the local hospital.

  On the third ring, the call picked up. ‘Hello? Mr. Summers’ phone. How can I help you?’

  Julie didn’t recognise the voice, so she kept it professional, not wanting to ruin Dan’s surprise. ‘Good evening. Would it be possible to speak with Mr. Summers, please?’

  ‘Oh, I’m terribly sorry but he left a few hours ago and won’t be back in the office until Tuesday. Is there anything I can help you with?’

  Making her apologies, Julie hung up and wondered what to do next. She opened Dan’s laptop and clicked on the hotel booking. Maybe he’d gone straight over to set things up for her? Would she walk in to a surprise party? It wasn’t her birthday… Perhaps a renewal of their wedding vows? Some of her friends had done that recently as they hit their ten-year anniversary, but she didn’t think Dan would be up for that. She would have to rethink her wardrobe just in case – no good turning up wearing a travelling outfit if she would be thrown straight in among the party people!

  Great. More stress, finding something to wear that’s suitable. She’d never liked surprises.

  She tried his mobile one last time. No answer. Finally, Julie clicked on the hotel number and waited for reception to pick up. She couldn’t wait any longer. She wasn’t prepared to let anxiety creep back into her life.

  ‘Good evening, this is The Woodloch Spa Hotel. How can we help you?’

  ‘Oh, hi,’ she said nervously. ‘Sorry to bother you. I just wanted to check if Mr. Summers has checked in yet, and if you could put me through to his room…’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t put you through, madam, but I can confirm Mr. and Mrs. Summers checked in earlier today and are currently at dinner. Would you like me to pass on a message?’

  There must be some mistake.

  ‘Mr. and Mrs. Summers? Have checked in?’

  ‘Yes, madam, I believe they are celebrating an anniversary. I shouldn’t really say, but they make such a sweet couple, and…’

  Julie zoned out. They? ‘I don’t understand. You’re telling me Mr. and Mrs. Summers are already there?’

  ‘Yes, madam. Now, if you have a message, I would be happy to pass it on.’

  Julie dropped the phone even as the voice continued through the speaker.

  What the fuck is going on? Her head screamed. Celebrating their anniversary? He’s there with another woman! How stupid she’d been to believe he was planning to rekindle their neglected romance, that he was trying to fix things, when all this time he’d been off with some hussy getting his way. No wonder he was always so unresponsive when she tried to initiate intimacy.

  So many questions rushed through her head. Was it someone she knew? Where had he met her? Was it someone from his office? From the gym? She thought back to his gym bag, the labels still in place, never used, and bile rose in her throat as reality dawned. How could he? How could he wreck their family for some fucking tart – and why? What had she done to deserve this?

  Feeling overcome with rage, she cursed him repeatedly, her body going through the various stages of grief. Arsehole. She wouldn’t let him get away with this. To think he’d been going at it behind her back, celebrating their anniversary! How long had he been with this trollop? A year? Years? Tears pricked the backs of her eyes, pooled in the bottom lid, held in check by heavy eyeliner. She refused to let them fall. He wouldn’t make a clown out of her again – not this time. His chances were all
used up.

  When she walked comatose downstairs, the kids were nowhere to be seen. Their food remnants sat decaying on the table, abandoned. They had long since run off to their rooms, likely slamming their doors behind them. She was glad of it today, grateful they hadn’t witnessed her upset, that they weren’t there to question her. For once, Julie understood their anger and wished she could slam those doors right off their hinges and into Dan’s fucking face.

  Opening Dan’s laptop again, she checked the dates on the hotel bookings site. The trip had been booked on the 7th June, four months ago. Her heart pounded with rage as she hovered the mouse over the ‘History’ button, watching the screen change to display lists and lists of fancy hotels, double suites booked for two people, none of it for business. Dan’s profile page showed he’d signed up three years before. Three years of fancy hotels with her.

  Don’t cry. Save it. Don’t cry. He’s not worth it. She ran to the bathroom, covering her mouth with her hands, not quite reaching the toilet before vomit sprayed violently between her fingers and over the floor. Empty gasps of horror escaped her at the realisation she’d been lied to and deceived for what could have been years. She was a failure.

  Jack’s bedroom door opened. With a quick glance and a disgusted grunt – ‘Urgh, Mum, that’s gross!’ – he scurried back into the dark of his pit, leaving her looking down at the mess.

  An orange phlegm, with a scrambled egg consistency was splattered across the walls where it had sprayed through Julie’s clasped hands. She feebly reached up to the cleaning cupboard for the bleach and began to spray it copiously around the room, allowing the splash-back to dribble down her arm and seep into her skin. She stood watching, willing it to burn off the top layer, to rid her of the violation of Dan’s touch. It was not the night she had earlier imagined but somehow much more fitting to the life she was used to; her Cinderella existence as the neglected housekeeper.

  Julie finished cleaning the vomit and left the room stinking like a swimming pool. Dropping into bed exhausted, she still couldn’t shift Dan’s scent off the bedding. In a rage, she summoned enough energy to rip the covers off and threw them on the floor, knocking over the table lamps and sending half-empty glasses of water crashing into the wardrobe door.

  Tommy came running in. ‘Mummy, what are you doing?’ Then, spotting the pillows on the floor and the stripped bedding, he threw himself onto the bed, giggling, ‘Pillow fight!’ He grabbed a pillow and started smashing it towards her, his little face so innocent, so happy, enjoying the moment and making Julie smile despite herself as she thumped him with the pillow. It was strangely therapeutic and exhausting, ending with them both snuggled up for a much-needed sleep.

  Time to forget life and switch off.

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  Julie hadn’t made plans for the weekend, so when Tommy asked to go looking for conkers, she jumped at the chance, desperate to escape the walls of her confinement. She had slept fitfully, woken in a cold sweat and cursed herself for changing the bedding, knowing she’d have to start over again. More washing. She couldn’t help but smirk at the absurdity of her situation. Her husband had been having an affair for three years – at least – and she was concerned about the washing.

  As they walked along, the breeze was invigorating, blowing her hair out of her face and exposing her ears until they were numbed by the cold. Tommy skipped alongside Julie, his warm hand in hers, showing her the love and attention she craved. A simple touch with so much promise. She watched as he spotted a horse-chestnut tree and started scavenging for conkers among the abandoned shells.

  ‘I found one!’ He shouted over, holding up a prickly closed shell and running back to her.

  They took turns stamping on it, crushing the untouched prison to release the jewel within. Julie couldn’t help comparing it to herself, the irony of her life: was Dan’s affair the ultimate punishment or her reward, contrived to release her from the ugliness of her existence? Was it the turning point, even more pivotal than the moment of clarity she’d felt ending Amrita’s life?

  She’d thought a lot about her, understandably, since the story first broke, but had felt no remorse. In the weeks since the cinema killing, despite extensive media coverage describing it as ‘a brutal, senseless murder of an innocent’, Julie just couldn’t bring herself to agree. Perhaps more so since discovering Dan’s affair, not that she’d brought it up with him, couldn’t face the conflict. It had taken away her self-empowered confidence and put her back a step. Nobody is innocent, she thought, watching Tommy snatching up conker after conker greedily. Every action has a beneficial consequence, no matter how harsh the reality of the moment, everything was down to fate. Chance and consequence.

  The more Julie read about Amrita Devi’s life, the better she felt about her actions. If only she could ask the deceased what she thought, if she was grateful for Julie’s actions as Julie believed she should be. Had she been given the choice, known the outcome of how her death would affect those closest to her, would she have made the leap, willingly participated in her own demise?

  Over the weeks, Julie had made a conscious effort to read as much as possible surrounding the case. The husband had appeared on TV asking for Justice for Amrita, trying to shed a tear knowing all eyes were on him as the most probable killer. He looked the type. Julie wondered how many beatings his wife had endured.

  The children weren’t pictured, just shadows of figures. She couldn’t help but judge them to be rough kids from their bony physiques. They might well be innocent, but in her mind, she fantasised they were neglected, malnourished, drug-dealing addicts. Was she doing that to justify her own actions? She shook her head. No. According to the papers, their family life had totally changed since their mother died. It was common knowledge they had gone into a police protection programme and would be given new identities to start over somewhere else. Apparently, the adolescents were vulnerable because of what was now being classed as a ‘racist attack’. Who knew what they were into? If Mr. Devi was an abuser, he would find it more difficult to escape the consequences in the future now he was in the public eye.

  It looked like they had separated him from the children. A job well done on her behalf then? It was easy to judge on appearance as that was all she had, but how many times had people said your first instinct was usually the right instinct? Those kids would have a new life, a new start. Yes, they would miss elements of their old world, but they might not have made it through their teens if everything had stayed the same. I saved them.

  Julie questioned herself, was she just looking for a reason to argue away why she felt no guilt? Was Mrs. Devi’s death a murder or manslaughter? Julie still believed it was self-defence. After all, life was about survival of the fittest, and in that moment, she had believed herself to be under attack. She hadn’t planned the murder or killed by accident – she had retaliated against fear. Would they lock her in a mental asylum if they found her? How would they find her, anyway? She’d never been arrested, so her fingerprints weren’t on police record, and she’d like to keep it that way. Julie would follow the trial with interest and mentally prepare her own statement, just in case. She had been in the cinema that day after all. Did they have her details? She was confused, relieved her credit card had been refused. A good omen. It was like life had ordained her destiny.

  Cold raindrops stung her face as dark clouds shifted overhead, bringing her back to the moment. She looked over at Tommy, who was still running around, carrying a now overflowing bucket of conkers.

  ‘Tommy, it’s time to go now, lovely,’ she called walking towards him and grabbing at his hand, the bucket swinging precariously in his other. ‘Careful! You don’t want them to fall out!’ she reprimanded, but she was too late. The handle of the plastic bucket ripped off, working its way out of the tiny holes clearly not designed for an inquisitive child who wanted to carry home three kilos of conkers! She wondered how it would have fared as a wate
r bucket.

  ‘No! Mummy, my conkers!’ Tommy started to cry as he dropped to his knees.

  ‘Don’t worry, darling, we’ll just pick them up,’ Julie said. She’d already half-filled the bucket again.

  Tommy whined. ‘I don’t want them, they’re dirty! They’re all yucky now! I want to go and get some more clean ones.’

  Oh, seriously, child. Stop being so fucking annoying. She wondered what he’d say if she just came out and said that. Instead, being pragmatic and wanting to keep the peace, she simply poured the entire bucket out again, watching Tommy’s shocked face in amusement. He hadn’t thought that through. He could have just washed them, but no. Was he right to reject them? Those once-perfect conkers tainted by life, by the mud of the wet environment – could they ever be truly perfect again?

  The rain had started coming down in sheets, hitting her sideways, with a storm promising to batter them anytime soon. Julie enjoyed watching the dark, billowing clouds approach, black areas giving the appearance the end of the world was nigh. Well, maybe it was. Maybe Tommy would be better off without her. Maybe all children would be, untouched by parental influence.

  ‘Okay, Tommy, time to go.’

  His pockets bulged with conkers, and he surprised her by immediately standing and running over without a word. He was obviously starting to feel the rain through his lightweight jacket. He’d never been one for wrapping up warm. It was always an argument to get her kids into coats, any excuse for an argument.

  Well, more fool you, she thought as she watched him run Hansel and Gretel-style towards her, leaving a trail of shining conkers in his wake. This wouldn’t end well. Greedy children everywhere would be snatching that trail up and pocketing it just as Tommy had, and the childhood bliss of having a full stash of shiny conkers would never be found again.

  That was life. There was no turning back, only one way forward, though we were forever searching for that shiny, clean start. The poignancy of the situation was not lost on Julie. She would abandon the path back to the ‘bliss’ of life as she knew it too, but she would embrace the freedom to come.