Occupied

by Janet Preece

  Just a few loose ends to tie up first. She wouldn’t let Dan get away with hurting her. Nobody was safe from retribution, nor should they be.

  That night, after bathing a shivering Tommy, Julie put him to bed, successfully got through the witching hour and manoeuvred her way through his usual last-ditch attempts at staying up.

  ‘I’m hungry!’

  ‘You should have eaten more dinner.’

  ‘I’m thirsty!’

  ‘Tommy, you can’t have a drink before bed or you’ll be up weeing all night!’

  ‘Can I sleep in your bed while Daddy’s away?’

  No, child, you cannot. Today is a new day. If you sleep in my bed, then I won’t sleep in my bed. You toss and turn all night, you wake me up frequently when you pat me to check I’m still there. You frighten me half to death with your face in my face, and your bad breath used to be cute but now it’s just rank.

  Julie looked at Tommy’s little face pleading with her and her resolve weakened, ‘You can grab one more story, have that in my bed, then I’ll say goodnight and tuck you into yours.’ Perhaps it’s me. I need to be harder, I’m ready to move forward, ready to focus on myself but you’re my little one. Be strong Julie. So what if he feels it more, you’ve already given seven years of your life to him, he should be grateful for that. It’s more than her own mother had given little Rose-bud.

  Tommy smiled back, unable to hide his gloating, believing he’s won. In that moment, he looked just like Dan, making Julie smile with relief. Leaving this lot won’t be as hard as I thought. She kissed him on the head and wrapped him up in his extra blanket.

  ‘Don’t forget to kiss my teddies, Mummy!’

  ‘Not tonight, dear. Do it yourself,’ she said as she walked away. She could hear him moaning, raising his voice in a shouting tirade as he pretended to cry.

  She didn’t look back.

  Once downstairs, Julie settled on the sofa in front of the television. It was a pleasure to have the remote all to herself. She would play a movie as loud as she liked, turning it up, down, up, down without anybody nagging her to stop. She flicked on the movie guide, glancing through her usual list of romantic comedy and period drama. They all looked familiar but not inviting. Horror movies were out of the question – or were they? There was an entire channel dedicated to horror. How had she never noticed? Julie flicked it on, but it was showing adverts, ten minutes to go until the next movie was due to start. She hadn’t watched adverts in years, didn’t realise they still ran.

  Julie idly picked up Dan’s laptop again and thought about the hotel, then logged in to online banking to see how much he was spending on his lady friend. Nothing showed up for today. She searched his statements from the last six months, transactions over three hundred pounds. Seven payments were listed to the same hotel bookings company. There were also the usual payments for the mortgage and car insurance, but nothing else she recognised as domestic bills. An individual payment to PRJ stood out at over one thousand pounds, so she typed the name into a search engine.

  PRJ. Princess Regency Jewellery.

  What had he bought? Had he been showering her with expensive gifts? It didn’t seem his style. Julie searched the twelve-month statement for PRJ payments, and a full page of listings appeared.

  Page one of three?

  Where had it all gone wrong? It just wasn’t fair. The amount he’d spent on jewellery was ridiculous – more like embezzlement! Maybe he was money laundering, and the trips were just a ruse for his underhand dealings?

  Yeah, right. Stop thinking the best of him.

  How much money did they have? She’d been so trusting, never thought to question or look, but if she was going to divorce him, she would need to know, to make sure she took half of everything. At least.

  She clicked on their direct debits to see how much money they spent on a monthly basis, disappointed in herself for not thinking to look before. There was a list of mobile phones, all the same network. Hers was by far the cheapest since her kids had all pushed and pushed to get the latest smartphones on a ridiculous monthly contract. As a family, they’d made the decision to give the kids unlimited data so they could all link to the stalker app that tracked their location. Dan had claimed his phone wasn’t app-compatible, but she’d figured he just wasn’t tech-savvy.

  Wait until I get my hands on it… She’d link his phone with her own so she could track him, see how often he met up with the slut.

  There was a fifth phone number on the direct debit. Did Dan have a second phone to arrange his affair? Was he pimping his slut, or had he bought a phone for her, another treat? She thought about ringing it, but it was nearly ten p.m., past the ethical cut-off time for phoning outside of emergencies. The unwritten, unspoken rule everyone seemed to adhere to. What if it wasn’t her? If it was something business related? Texting was another matter. Was it okay to text all through the night? Maybe not to a stranger. The number was likely unavailable anyway, but on the off chance it had been passed to a new owner, Julie didn’t want to be the freaky night caller. She would decide in the morning or when she was brave enough to face the potential consequences, if that day ever came.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Julie wondered if there was anyone else out there feeling the pain that she was in, if anybody could understand the feeling of loss. She’d put all her energy into being a good wife, then when the kids came along, they sucked it all out of her. Every waking moment was spent trying to please, discipline or entertain them. Motherhood was the cycle of feed, clothe, wash, shout, and try your best to get them to sleep – all in the hope of raising them to be half-way decent human beings. She hoped she’d succeeded, at least where the kids were concerned, but it would depend who was doing the judging. She had so clearly failed with Dan.

  Julie dreamed of a life where it was just her – the simplicity, the fulfilment of every desire on demand. No time restraints, no consequences; total freedom. How many other mothers felt the same? She imagined a world where every woman stood up for themselves and just said ‘No, I’m not going to take it anymore.’ That was the dream. Society would break down, family life would be chaos, children would be neglected and left to their own devices, working partners would be unable to go off to their jobs, instead thrust into the thick of parenting and domestic duties. Finally, there would be some recognition of the domestic goddess’s unseen efforts! And what about single parents? Why shouldn’t those women leave too, just run away and live life for themselves, let the world face the consequences? Blissful chaos!

  Maybe a temporary walk-out would be enough to shock people into appreciating women like her. Enough for them to literally take a break. She wondered about the mums at the school gates – would they join in? Leave everything? Were they struggling beneath their perfect exterior? They all seemed so in-control, painted smiles on their faces, making minimal conversation as they rushed off elsewhere. What was going on behind those glass eyes? They gave nothing away.

  Julie loved her kids and didn’t want to put them in danger, but at the same time, why was everything down to her? All she wanted was some time off, ideally with the shock factor to make her family appreciate her more. She wanted to be missed. Julie fantasised about leaving the house on her own – just opening the door, walking out and shutting it behind her. No last-minute arguments about who hadn’t tied their shoes or moaning about the necessity of wearing a coat in the rain, no vomit on her shoulder or shouts of, ‘Mum, where’s my…?’

  I’m leaving. No more responsibilities, only wild abandonment.

  Her thoughts were interrupted as the television blared, announcing the movie was starting.

  The film was eerie and dark, but Julie wanted to be scared. She wanted to feel something so overwhelming that it would take her mind off the life-changing affair she had just discovered. She embraced the emotion, no longer caring if someone broke in and attacked her.

 
It didn’t matter that Dan was away on one of his jollies tonight. Jollies! Ha, what a joke! She wondered how many of his ‘work trips’ had been trips away with the other woman. Who was she? What was she like? Why did he need more? She wanted to be angry but mainly felt disappointment and something else, relief? She could breathe again. It was like he had given her the key, offered her a green light to go forth, and the world was out there waiting for her.

  Julie couldn’t concentrate, she wasn’t fully engrossed in the movie, instead critiquing the vampires that weren’t realistic enough. In her mind, she was writing a review for her blog, mentally dissecting every scene. It just wasn’t happening. She flicked over to another channel, true crime drama. Contains violence, gore, drug use, scenes of a sexual nature and subjects some viewers may find distressing.

  Great.

  A woman had gone missing, and the hunt was on to find the kidnapper before he raped and killed her, disposing of her body in some gruesome manner reserved for television dramatizations only. The guy was a suspected serial killer, and missing Violet was not the first in a chain of disappearances in a quaint little Dorset village.

  This is more like it. She turned the volume up.

  Julie listened to the police investigators as they tried to work out how they would capture the killer. How did they come up with a plan? It seemed so much of their time was spent thinking and travelling to potential leads where nothing paid off – either that, or acting the stereotype tucking into doughnuts. The drama flicked to a scene of a dark room: a woman’s face, dirty, with matted hair. She was sweating and shaking, whimpering, scared. How did the killer set the scene? Make it look like a dungeon? At what point had the woman become a mad-eyed, blood-streaked, dirty-faced victim? Julie noted her greasy hair and wondered if the actress found it difficult to leave it in such a state between shoots. Had the villain bundled her into a van, bag on head, so she couldn’t see where he was taking her? Did he know the victim? Perhaps he’d befriended her and she’d willingly gone with him. She wanted to know more of the back story and wished she’d flicked over sooner. Why was she the chosen one? Oh, how Julie would love to throw Dan’s slut to the wolves, watch them devour her in a dungeon along with the amateur actress onscreen.

  She ran away with the thought, imagined Slut calling for help, bound and gagged, the panic of not knowing what was to come. That would be exhilarating. Pure terror. Make her wait. Julie felt excited planning how she would blindfold her for good measure, take away her sense of awareness. Would she give hints as to why she was being punished – for breaking the female code of allegiance by taking another woman’s husband? Julie would use her own eye mask, a nice touch. Would Slut recognise her perfume? At least it would be a hint her attacker was a woman. She smiled as she imagined Slut squirming in fear.

  The police assistant onscreen ran around with a clipboard and pen, incompetent, a joke, tagging along to every meeting and being sent off to buy more doughnuts. Would Julie need to worry about pen-pushers finding her and Slut? Slut plus Amrita would make two victims. Would that make her a serial killer? If she got away with it, maybe her new vocation could be taking home-wreckers and working her magic. A serial cleanser! Kidnap and torture. Could she do it? Hell yeah! She’d offer her services to other women who wanted revenge on their partners.

  She got up to grab a glass of red wine, pouring the large glass a third-full, enjoying the aroma as she swirled it around and around before taking a full sniff. She would hold out for a first sip; a first taste of pleasure. The wait would be worth it.

  The girl on the television pleaded for her life while the attacker watched, patiently waiting, relishing the moment, leaving the audience hungry for an evil laugh to make it feel more real.

  Julie grabbed a pen and scribbled into her notebook: Leave them hanging. Suspense is not only for TV!

  She leaned forward and smelled her blood-red wine, still not ready for that first taste. Pausing the show, she returned to her notepad.

  For her title, Julie wrote ‘Revenge’ and then began her list of priorities. What would make Slut fear for her life? What would ruin her? Julie would show Dan what it was to feel fear. She would ruin Slut, not give her the sweet release of death. She would plan something fun, a house of horrors. She finally picked up her glass and allowed a little bit of wine into her mouth, held it still, allowed the sour taste to attack her salivary glands and send them into overdrive. She held it and waited until it was almost unbearable before swallowing. Drip by drip, it trickled down her throat.

  Julie looked at the wine, the blood of her first victim, giving her strength. She drained the glass and left it in front of the TV screen, pressing play again as she made her way out of the room. The lights were already out since she had tried to build tension for the horror movie earlier, and as she left the room, the woman’s scream permeated the house and followed her upstairs, filling Julie with renewed determination.

  She would not be in such a hurry to give Slut freedom. It would be interesting to observe Dan’s actions now she knew what he was up to. How would he deal with Slut’s abduction? How long would he chase her memory, try to find her? Would he be at home more if he didn’t have her arms to run into? Would he be an emotional wreck? Oh, how she hoped so. She hoped he suffered, really suffered. That he kept his confession to himself, struggling with the internal turmoil of his guilt, no outlet for sympathy or comfort. What if it went the other way and he reported her missing? Came clean, she wouldn’t take him back. Not now. Not ever.

  Julie was excited to have a purpose. She promised herself, Slut would be shown no mercy. Julie would never get back those years of neglect. For three years, Slut had been sleeping with her husband, so three years would be her punishment; a prison of her own making.

  Now, just to work out who she was.

  There was no need for lights as Julie walked into the bathroom to brush her teeth; her eyes had acclimatised to her surroundings and her altered mentality. Adrenaline rushed through her with the thought of her new focus: planning Slut’s kidnap. She was glad she’d watched the horror channel at last, as it had confirmed her new realisation that there was nothing to fear.

  She winced as she scraped her gum, being too aggressive with her electric toothbrush. It would result in an ulcer, no doubt. She leaned forward to look in the mirror, and as the moon shone through the window blinds, she caught a glimpse of a shadow behind her. Turning, she saw it was just a black bath towel.

  Julie wiped the toothpaste from her mouth and looked at the luminescent stain left behind on the towel. She let it drop to the floor as she looked back at the mirror to admire her already throbbing ulcer. She embraced the pain, holding her gums back in a grimace – the sneer of an attacking dog ready for the hunt. As she stood staring at her own reflection, the world around her changed like a magic-eye painting, making her feel disorientated and slightly nauseous. Gradually, she noticed the shapes around her face forming into one; a figure with long, floating hair billowing out at the sides. The figure moved forward, into view, piercing dark eyes staring back at her. Julie was fixated. She had seen that face before, on the news, in the newspapers.

  Amrita, back to haunt her killer.

  She was beautiful, an image of perfection, with unblemished skin and the hazy glow of an angel; the innocence of a new-born child. Was this the afterlife, or was she stuck in limbo, waiting to complete a mission before she could rest in peace?

  They stared at each other, and time stood still.

  Julie was ready. She’d been ready all her life; had anticipated this moment and was relieved it had finally come, that there were ghosts waiting in the wings, glinting in the corners of her eyes, reaching to come out in the night. She wondered at the irony of all those years of fear and anxiety, and how the reality was a calming tonic in her otherwise crazy existence. Had she always known? Had she seen something in her childhood that had left a lasting mark on her subconscious mind? O
r did ghosts only appear to those who were there at their moment of passing? Those who had pushed them over the bridge into eternal life – or eternal death?

  Julie felt no fear. She stopped snarling, stood upright and stared back, mother-to-mother. Was Amrita waiting for an apology? Julie felt no guilt or remorse. She had freed this woman from her confinement. She smiled into the mirror, and the figure responded by lifting her head, nodding and then fading to nothing.

  A brief smile had crossed between them. Only a glint, but it was there.

  Was that a thank-you?

  Amrita was at peace now, thanks to Julie. She walked away from the room, got into her cosy bed and closed her eyes. There’s nothing to fear except fear itself, and she was no longer afraid.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The days that followed were oddly blissful. Julie enjoyed having her new focus: planning to end the life of another. She had a notebook of research, had studied serial killers and was getting stuck into a variety of detective novels and horror movies. She enjoyed the thrill of keeping it all hidden, the plans (even if they never actually happened), the fun of the chase. She had no idea who Slut was, so she would have to do some further digging. She wondered how long it would be before Dan had to ‘work late again’. She tried to pick up clues in what he said – where he was going, who he talked about – but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He’d been hiding it for years after all; lying had become second nature to him.

  Dan had returned from the spa like an excitable puppy, bounding all over the house hugging the kids and leaning in to sweep her off her feet. Making her question herself, could she have got it wrong? No, that’s impossible, stand firm.

  ‘I’m exhausted, but I missed you lot! We literally didn’t sleep,’ he explained, looking from her to the family photo and back again. ‘I need a holiday to get over the holiday! All that drinking, all the late nights and early mornings – I’m proper shattered.’