Louise nods, grabbing hold of Jo’s hand, squeezing it. ‘I’m… I’m so sorry,’ she pants breathlessly. ‘I never meant… oh God… ow-ww, I never meant any of this to happen, Jo.’ She sways her hips from side to side as she battles through another contraction. Gritting her teeth, head bowed down, focusing.
Once the contraction subsides, Jo knows she needs to take control. She needs medical help, and now.
She swipes up two of the broken stool legs and strides to the window, cupping her hand against the glass, peering out just in case anyone is passing by and she can get their attention. But there’s no one there. Then she wields the legs above her head, about to bring them down on the double glazing as hard as she can, when she hears the door handle to the bedroom rattling behind her – as well as what sounds like the lock turning.
She freezes, arms above her head.
Thank Christ, Jo thinks, catching her breath, turning, praying Suzanne has changed her mind and come to help. But still, she stays alert, knowing she may have to defend Louise.
And then, as she briefly glances out of the window again, lowering her arms, she doesn’t know which way to look – towards the door as she hears Suzanne’s voice, or down at the gravel where she catches sight of Will standing on the drive below.
She stares at him for a moment – her eyes narrowing in disgust at the sight of him yet again. She wants him gone from her life – to stop herself imagining him, talking to him, longing for him. His presence is doing her no good. She quickly turns back to the door again, to see it opening, to see Suzanne coming in carrying several knitted blankets and some towels. She breathes out a sigh of relief. She’s come to help. Louise is still panting and moaning, legs splayed as she rocks her hips back and forth, her face glowing with sweat.
And when Jo looks back down to the drive again, mouthing Why, why, why…? at Will, wishing he would just go away, finally disappear from her life, she sees he’s still there, still pacing back and forth along the gravel, looking for all the world as though he’s absolutely real.
Forty-Six
Then
He might as well be in prison, I thought as I lay in bed beside Will, each of us on our backs, neither of us asleep. I could tell he was awake by the sound of his breathing. His eyes are probably open, I thought. Staring at the ceiling in the darkness, just like I am, wondering where the hell we go from here.
We’d not had sex since he’d told me, since we’d returned from the cottage break. And I hadn’t fallen pregnant from when we’d made love there – before he’d dropped the bombshell. I’d spent the rest of that day crying, asking question after question, replaying the night of the party over and over in my mind, trying to recall the faces of everyone who was there, Will’s bad mood that night – as well as the days leading up to the party. I’d sensed he’d had something on his mind, that something was troubling him, but had no idea what. And I wasn’t certain if any of that was related to the accident on the way home or if it was simply coincidence.
From the moment Will had told me the truth that morning, I could do nothing else except overanalyse and overthink everything that had gone before. Desperate for answers. For reasons. Because Will wasn’t giving me any. It was a sum of fragments, and every time I tried to add them up, I came up with a different answer.
‘Will,’ I whispered as we lay there. I could almost hear his mind whirring and racing at the same pace as mine. It was as if we’d become two very separate and different people these last few weeks, with the cliché ‘drifting apart’ not even coming close to describing the pain I felt from watching my husband – my beautiful, kind, creative and talented husband – gradually go missing in front of my eyes. As if he was fading away. There but not there.
‘What?’ he replied, unmoving.
‘Please tell me…’ I was trying to think of a different way to phrase the question that I’d already asked a thousand times. Since that night at the cottage, when he’d had the nightmare and been sleep-talking, I couldn’t get what he’d said out of my mind. ‘When you said that someone was trying to… to hurt me—’
‘Oh, not again. You’re making things up, Jo. Imagining things. Let it lie.’
‘No, no, I’m not, Will. In your sleep, you said that someone was trying to hurt me. That they were trying to hurt your wife. And that…’ I stopped, swallowed. ‘And that you thought you’d killed her. It was the woman you hit, wasn’t it? You knew she was going to hurt me, so you hurt her first. It wasn’t an accident, was it?’
But why? was the question I most wanted to ask, yet I couldn’t get it out.
Suddenly the bed rocked as Will hurled himself onto his side, propped up on one arm, looming over me in the half-light.
‘If I say you are making things up, then you are making things up, OK?’ He stared at me, our eyes locking onto each other despite the dim light. ‘I don’t have any control over what I’m saying when I’m asleep. I didn’t even know I was sleep-talking. I can’t even remember the dream now. It was weeks ago. Just let it go, Jo. It’s over. A bad thing happened and I panicked. I shouldn’t have done it, I admit that. But it turns out it’s not as bad as I thought. Or as you’re now making out. Let’s just be bloody grateful for that, at least, and move on. I’m sick of hearing about it. Can’t a man make mistakes?’
‘But Will…’ I knew I was pushing it, would probably have forgotten the strange dream, the sleep-talking, if he’d not confessed to the hit and run when we were staying at the cottage. It was as though he’d wanted to get it off his chest, as if he needed to tell someone for his own sanity. ‘You committed a crime, Will. And like it or not, you’ve now made me a part of that. I deserve to know the full story.’
Will swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up. ‘I’ve had enough, Jo. What else do I need to do to make you drop this? Are you going to spend the rest of our lives going over and over the minutiae? Would you rather see me arrested, dragged through the courts for God knows what… dangerous driving, a hit and run, grievous bodily harm and probably countless other offences? I’d had a drink. I’d end up serving time, Jo. My career as a teacher would be finished. You know we can’t survive on your income alone. All I’ve wanted to do is protect you and it’s as though you’re… as though you’re trying to unravel everything, picking at the knot until it comes undone.’ He stood up. ‘Well, I am coming undone, Jo. And I can’t take much more.’
‘Will…’
He stood there in the semi-darkness, his bare back facing me as he peeled the curtains back a few inches and leant on the windowsill, staring out. The accident had happened only a short distance from our house, right on the edge of town. I hadn’t been able to drive past the spot since I’d been told the truth. Most of the truth, as I was certain there was more. I knew Will. And I knew when he was lying.
I got out of bed, went up to him. Put my hand on his shoulder, sliding it down his back. I felt him tense.
‘Will, we’ve not made love in ages. It’s been weeks now. Since we were away. I want a baby and I want it with you. But I also miss the closeness. I don’t want you to go to prison, of course I don’t – that would be the end of our world, all our dreams. I may as well get put away too if that’s what happens. I couldn’t stand it.’
He turned slightly and I caught sight of the hard angle of his jaw – but I also saw how his tight face had relaxed a little.
‘What I’m saying is that I understand. Really, I get why you did what you did. I don’t like it, but I get it. You acted in panic. And if you say I’m making things up about someone wanting to hurt me, then I believe you. I trust you, Will. More than anyone in my entire life. If I’d been in the same situation, me driving, I have no idea what I would have done. Panicked, too, probably. So I have no right to judge you. I love you.’
Will turned then, wrapping his big arms around me, pulling me close to his chest, my face against his bare skin. I breathed in the scent of him, closing my eyes. It was the safest place in the whole world. And I could
n’t stand to lose it.
But still it was playing on my mind.
‘How did you know the woman was OK? You mentioned that she was fine, that her injuries hadn’t been bad. I don’t understand.’
Will held me at arm’s length then, looking at me in a way I’d not seen in months. It was a blend of love and lust – his eyes deep and warm, speaking only to me. At that moment, I felt like the only person in the world. The only woman in the world. He put a finger over my lips briefly before lowering his head to kiss me, holding me around the back as he laid me down on the bed, pulling off my T-shirt as I prayed that this would be the night.
Forty-Seven
Now
Jo doesn’t know which way to turn – to press her face against the glass, hating that she has just told Will to leave her alone, to get out of her life and stop appearing when she least expects it, or to rush to Louise, to Suzanne, to help birth this baby.
I don’t really want you to go…
‘We need to call an ambulance,’ Jo says, praying that Suzanne’s finally seen sense, that she’s going to help them. Or at least help Louise. It’s not her fault she’s got caught up in this. Then, afterwards, Suzanne can have out with her whatever grudge it is she’s got against her. Though she suspects it’s Will she should be having that conversation with.
‘I already have,’ Suzanne says calmly, as if she’s a different person. ‘They’re on their way.’ She looks between the two women – her eyes fixed on Jo for a moment, squinting, that look in them again. Then she stares at Louise, as if it’s for the first time. She touches her head, screws up her eyes, clearly fighting something inside her. Jo prays she isn’t about to have one of her episodes again.
‘Thank you,’ Jo says, meaning it. She needs to placate her, keep her calm. While she wants to get out of this room, Louise is in no fit state to be going anywhere right now. She watches on, almost frozen, as Suzanne guides her back towards the bed – her arms supporting her round the back as she makes encouraging and soothing sounds. She doesn’t seem like the crazy woman who was fighting, screaming and locking them up.
‘It’s OK, Lou, help is coming,’ Jo says.
Louise glances up, giving Jo a brief but pained smile as the last contraction eases and her moans die down again. ‘This baby is coming too,’ she says, looking exhausted as she lies back on the bed.
‘We need to get these off you, love,’ Suzanne says as she makes her comfortable with the pillows. She slips off Louise’s shoes before gently tugging on her elasticated trousers. Louise nods, helping before the next contraction comes.
Do something, please, Jo thinks, but she’s completely frozen, still standing by the window. Instinctively, she senses it’ll be the last time she’ll see Will, that he is slipping further and further away from her, that her mind won’t be playing tricks on her or engaging with him again. She knows it’s time to let him go.
She takes one last look out of the window.
‘What the hell?’ she whispers, going closer, not believing what she just saw. Below on the drive, Will is still there, pacing about, looking agitated. He kicks at the gravel several times, bowing his head and, even in the dark, she sees that he looks annoyed. He’s not spotted her yet, doesn’t know she’s watching. Not even bothered talking to her like he usually does.
But the gravel has moved.
Jo sees a long scuff mark in the stones where he just dragged his foot through.
Figments of my imagination don’t do that…
‘He scuffed stones. He actually scuffed stones.’ Jo brings her hand over her mouth, feeling dizzy and unreal as if she’s the made-up, imagined person, not Will.
‘Sorry?’ Suzanne says, glancing up with a puzzled look on her face. She shakes her head. ‘Come and help me, will you?’
‘Yes, yes, sorry,’ Jo says, still staring out of the window, straining to see Will as he approaches the house directly below. It looks as if he’s going towards the front door.
Go away!
As she turns back to the bed, Louise lets out the biggest cry yet – her cheeks red, her face screwed up from pain, her eyes tiny slits as she expends all her energy and focuses on getting through the next contraction.
‘That’s it, you’re doing great. Breathe steadily now. Breathe through it.’ Suzanne takes Jo’s hand, guiding it to Louise’s as she tears at her own hair. ‘Here, squeeze Jo’s hand. The ambulance will be here soon.’
Jo doesn’t know what to do. Every fibre of her wants to go back to the window, to tell Will she’s sorry, that she doesn’t really want him to go away, that she doesn’t think she’ll be able to get through the rest of her life without him. But she knows she has to help Louise.
‘It’s OK, Lou,’ she says calmly, stroking some hair off her sweaty face. ‘Just think, you’ll soon have a little baby boy or girl in your arms. And the paramedics will be here and you’ll be looked after and—’
‘I’m no expert,’ Suzanne says, crouching down beside Louise’s legs. ‘But that looks an awful lot like a baby’s head to me.’
Louise is lying on her back, knees bent up, feet wide apart. Jo takes a quick look, exchanges glances at Suzanne before nodding. She mouths What about the cord? but Suzanne shrugs. It’s clear neither of them knows what to do, though Jo knows it’s bad news if it’s wrapped around the baby’s neck. Jo fights the urge to yell at her, to tell her that if anything happens to Louise or the baby it’ll be her fault for locking them in.
‘Oh God, I want to push…’ Louise says, panting and howling again. ‘I can’t stop, I need to push… now…’ Her face turns purple as she strains and grunts.
‘Just pant through it if you can,’ Suzanne says. ‘Little short breaths, and try not to push too hard yet. You’re doing fine, and I can see the baby’s head getting closer. Keep going, Louise.’
Then the contraction subsides again and Louise’s head flops back onto the pillow. She closes her eyes, waiting for the next onslaught. Suzanne arranges towels under Louise’s legs and bottom, preparing for the baby coming.
And it’s just as everything falls silent between contractions that they hear the banging on the door downstairs, followed by the doorbell sounding over and over.
‘Oh thank goodness,’ Jo says, looking at Suzanne, both women awash with relief. She grabs Louise’s hand. ‘Lou, it’s OK. The ambulance has arrived. You’re going to be fine.’
‘Go and let them in,’ Suzanne says. ‘I’ll stay here.’
Jo nods, giving an encouraging smile to Louise who manages one back, mouthing a little thank you as Jo turns to dash downstairs. Though for the life of her, Jo thought she mouthed sorry, too.
As Jo rushes down to the hallway, she’s met by Spangle, barking and jumping about at the door – a combination of wagging tail and protective barks. She knows she should shut him in the kitchen but she wants to let the paramedics in as quickly as possible, show them where Louise is.
Jo undoes the chain, fumbling with the key that’s been left in the lock, seeing the shape of someone through the stained glass. She pulls back the door, forcing herself to stay calm so she can brief them about what she knows of Louise’s medical history. Time is of the essence.
She takes a deep breath and, when she sees who’s standing there, it escapes as a scream.
Will.
She covers her mouth, glancing behind his presence, looking for the paramedics, but there’s no one else there.
Just Will. Looking for all the world as though he’s real.
But he can’t be. Can he? Surely it’s her mind playing tricks again.
‘Hello, Jo,’ he says, staring directly at her, his eyes heavy, his expression filled with something she doesn’t recognise. ‘I… I—’
‘Will?’ Jo whispers, her heart thumping so fast she thinks she’ll need an ambulance herself. ‘I… what… I don’t…’ He seems more real than ever.
Jo feels dizzy and sick and so unsure of her own mind, her own sense of reality, that she slams the door shut,
then counts to five before opening it again.
Will is still there.
‘You’re not real,’ Jo says, trying to convince herself. The stubble on his chin as if he hasn’t shaved in several days, the thread pulled on the sleeve of his navy sweater, the ripple of his throat as he swallows, the glisten in his eyes that makes him look as though he’s about to cry. And she can smell him, she thinks, catching his familiar scent as she stands only two feet from him.
She raises her arm, reaches out and dares to touch him. Whenever she’s done this before, he’s always vanished – one blink and he’d be gone. Jo sees her hand shaking as her fingers draw close to his sweater. She sees the rise and fall of his chest, hears him breathing.
Feels the warmth of him as she connects with his body.
She recoils suddenly, as if she’s just had an electric shock.
‘Will…’ she whispers, not understanding. Then it dawns on her. He’s not come to see you. He’s come to see Suzanne…
Another shriek comes from upstairs, snapping her back to reality. Then Suzanne calling out for her to hurry up with the paramedics, that the baby’s coming.
‘Jo…’ Will says, his voice deep and so very real. Nothing like the voice she’s heard in her head so many times this last year.
‘Is it really you?’ She reaches out and touches him again. This time, he takes her hand, circling her fingers with his. He feels so warm. So alive.
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Can I come in?’
She’s played out this situation a thousand times in her mind, their reunion different each time. None of her rehearsals were like this, though – not with her best friend giving birth upstairs.
‘I… I don’t know. I don’t know what to say. I want to thump you and hug you… I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say…’
The Happy Couple: An absolutely unputdownable and gripping psychological thriller Page 26
