Stay strong, Jo. Deal with this later. Louise is your main priority…
‘Where have you been?’
‘I’ve missed you,’ he says, just as Jo finds the strength to turn on her heels and go back upstairs. She doesn’t want to hear it. She needs to help Louise. But then, with her back to him, she hesitates – part of her wanting him to follow her, part of her wanting him to leave again and never return.
She hates what he’s done to her. Hates what he’s done to Suzanne.
Keep your pride… she thinks, spinning round and putting up the latch on the door. ‘Leave it open,’ she orders. ‘So the ambulance crew can get in.’ Then she turns again and runs up the stairs, hearing his footsteps following behind.
‘Jo, wait,’ he calls out. ‘I can explain… I want to explain. Just listen to me. Hear me out.’
But Jo keeps on going, reaching the top of the landing, hating how pathetic he sounds – begging, pleading, almost as if he’s close to tears.
She stands at the top of the stairs, looking back down at him, freezing him in his tracks as he’s halfway up. His expression pleads with her – his mouth bent into a shape that has words inside yet they don’t know how to come out. He looks older, she thinks. Tired and unhappy.
He takes a few more steps up, making Jo want to push him back down. But when she hears the biggest cry yet from Louise, with Suzanne encouraging her, telling her the baby is coming, she turns and dashes into the bedroom, halting just inside the doorway.
Suzanne is kneeling down at the end of the bed, focusing on Louise. ‘One last push now,’ she says, her hands cradling a baby’s head. Jo can’t see much from where she’s standing. She goes up to Louise, dropping to her knees beside her.
‘Squeeze my hand,’ she says, gripping onto her friend. She sees Louise’s naked belly contract, clamping down on the baby’s body as the final contraction comes.
‘Push hard,’ Suzanne says. ‘That’s it, that’s it…’
‘Well done, Lou, you’re doing great,’ Jo says, forcing herself not to look behind her. But she knows he’s followed her in, senses him standing right behind her as he witnesses the birth.
How dare you, she wants to yell. Get out and leave us all alone!
But she doesn’t.
Instead, all she can do is stare at the blue-grey bundle in Suzanne’s hands as she lays it on a towel. Louise strains to sit up, to staring at her baby.
‘It’s a little boy,’ Suzanne says, looking up at Louise with tears in her eyes as if she doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Jo feels the same. He’s beautiful.
‘Is he OK?’ Louise asks, her voice hoarse. She sounds exhausted.
‘Yes, yes, I think so,’ Suzanne says, seeming to know exactly what to do. She gently rubs the baby with the soft towel, smiling as the first cries come – shrill-sounding and healthy, his clenched fist bumping against his mouth. ‘He’s got good lungs,’ Suzanne adds, lifting him up a little for Louise to see. The baby instantly spreads all his limbs wide, the startle reflex kicking in. ‘He’ll pink up in a minute, I think,’ she says. ‘Once the oxygen gets flowing.’
Jo stares at the baby, frowning. Beautiful and wriggling, his dark eyes searching around, looking for his mother.
Suzanne lifts him carefully onto Louise’s deflated belly, sliding him gently up to her breast so their bare skin is touching.
‘Oh, I love him,’ Louise whispers, stroking his little cheek. ‘How precious are you, my little one.’
Jo can’t take her eyes off the baby. But for quite different reasons to Louise, who’s crooning over him, bonding, drinking in her new son.
She’s aware that Suzanne is watching Louise intently – then sees her flick her gaze behind her, to where she knows Will is standing, frozen by the scene he has stumbled in on. And finally, she looks back at Louise again.
Slowly, Suzanne stands up, cupping her face with her slightly bloody hands, her eyes alight with confusion – as if she’s about to have one of her episodes; as if there’s been some kind of emotional eclipse from seeing the three of them together. The four of them together.
Jo stands up too, barely aware of what she’s doing. She steps back from Louise – needs to get away from her before she does or says something she can’t take back. She shakes her head, the words No, no, no… flooding her mind until they tumble out.
‘No,’ she says abruptly. ‘Dear God, no. No, no, no…’ She glares at Will, who’s also transfixed by the infant, before staring at the baby again. Back and forth, back and forth – her eyes flashing between the two of them.
‘That baby is not going to pink up, is he?’ Jo whispers to them both. She shakes her head, her breath barely reaching her lungs, making her feel as though she’s about to pass out. ‘Louise?’ she says, slightly louder.
There’s no mistaking the baby has a black father. That it can’t possibly be Archie’s son.
But Louise is engrossed with her little boy, making noises at him, staring into his eyes, before being consumed by another contraction, her face crumpling as she tries to stifle a moan. The placenta is coming.
‘You bastard,’ Jo says quietly to Will so as not to startle the baby. ‘He’s yours, isn’t he? Isn’t he?’ she yells, grabbing him by the collar.
Forty-Eight
Jo doesn’t fully understand what’s going on – yet, somehow, she understands completely. The jigsaw pieces just need to settle, to take form in her mind. But she’s had a glimpse of the full picture.
‘Jo, wait,’ Will says, backing away, holding his hands up like a shield. ‘It’s not what you think, OK?’
‘I think it’s exactly what I bloody think,’ Jo hisses, locking eyes with Louise just as she moans again, pushing out the placenta. She wants to hit her, to scratch out her eyes and pull her hair, but she can’t possibly – not with a baby in her arms. Not when she’s vulnerable from childbirth. She hates her for what she’s done – Will has been gone nearly a whole year, after all. Which means… Jo doesn’t need to count the months to know that Louise has obviously been with him since he went missing. She’s known where he’s been all this time, yet watched her go through the agony of not knowing what has happened to her husband. It couldn’t be anyone else.
‘You complete shits,’ she says to Will in a voice far more controlled than is warranted. ‘The pair of you. This is your baby, isn’t it? You abandoned me and you’ve been seeing Louise all this time, haven’t you?’
Will looks at Louise, their eyes meeting for the briefest of moments before Louise turns back to the little boy, helping him latch onto her breast. He’s the centre of her universe now. Then Will gazes at the baby, a longing look in his eyes, as if he wants nothing more than to be by her side, holding them both, keeping them safe. A little family of three.
Jo wants to throw up.
Everything I’ve ever loved or wanted in life is all here, in this room. And yet none of it can ever be mine…
She stands still for what seems like forever, the last year of her life replaying in fast forward.
‘Maybe I should tell Suzanne what you did, Will?’ she says, reality sinking in. Though she’s unsure of Suzanne’s involvement with Will now. Was he stringing both of them along? ‘Would that help you answer my question?’
Will’s expression remains blank and he says nothing. He’s emotionless, as if he has no feelings for her, or anyone else, whatsoever.
It’s as if she never even knew him.
Then, quite calmly, Will goes to Louise, bends down and kisses her on the head, then does the same to the baby. He looks at them for a moment before turning on his heels and walking out of the bedroom.
Jo follows him.
‘Don’t you bloody walk out on me again without explanation, Will Carter,’ she calls after him. His pace kicks up to a run as he heads down the stairs. She sees him stumble, catching the bannister rail, not looking back. ‘You don’t get off that lightly. You don’t get to walk out on me twice.’
She follows, als
o running to keep up with him.
‘Will, get back here and explain to me what the hell has been going on. Louise has just given birth to your baby, hasn’t she?’ Jo’s voice breaks as the tears come. She can hardly believe she’s hearing those words coming out of her mouth. ‘At least have the decency to tell me the truth. How long has it been going on? Will, wait. Come back. Talk to me.’
He’s at the open front door now, about to head out into the darkness. But he stops, turns, making Jo freeze in her tracks in the hallway. He stares right at her, the cold look still set deep in his eyes.
‘It just happened, Jo. One of those things. We were spending a lot of time with Louise and Archie as couples and… and I guess Louise was just there when you weren’t. And she felt the same about me. And she… she wasn’t obsessed like you.’
‘Weren’t there?’ Jo says, shaking her head. ‘But I was always there, Will.’
‘No, Jo. You weren’t. It was as though you were constantly living in the future and the only thing in your line of sight was a baby. I may as well not have existed. You were looking so far ahead that you forgot to see me. You forgot to see us.’
Jo feels as though he’s kicked her in the teeth. She reels, taking in what he just said.
‘So you’re saying I drove you into Louise’s arms, that it’s my fault?’ She shakes her head.
‘Kind of, yes,’ Will says, shrugging. ‘Though it’s not quite that simple.’ Then a look on his face that Jo doesn’t recognise. ‘I need to go. I need to think. I’m sorry, Jo.’
Jo hears Louise call from upstairs, begging him not to leave, telling him to come up to her and his baby.
‘Sorry?’ Jo says, taking a step closer to him. ‘You’re sorry? And that’s it? Well, guess what? I’m sorry too, Will. Sorry that I ever met you. Sorry that I gave you the best years of my life in the hope we would have a family together, and a long and happy marriage.’ She takes a deep breath, letting out a half-laugh. ‘And sorry that you’re now trying to make it my fault that you and my best friend have been complete shits to me for Christ knows how long.
‘I’ve been doing everything in my power to find you this last year, not knowing if you were dead or alive. In fact, it was only my hope of finding you alive that kept me going, making you so real in my head that it actually felt like you’d never even gone. I’ve seen you everywhere, Will. At work, at home when I’m cooking, when I’m in bed, hell – even when I’m using the bathroom. You’d appear to me and I’d talk to you. We’d have conversations about the past, the future. Your presence kept me going through the darkest times.’ She shakes her head, laughs at her own stupidity. ‘But all this time you were fine, screwing Louise. And her pretending to support me is the biggest betrayal of all.’ She takes a step closer. ‘And to think, the moment I told you to go, that I wanted you gone from my head forever, that I’d had enough, that’s when you actually step back into my life for real. But it wasn’t even because of me, rather because you were concerned about Louise.’
Jo pauses, trying to get stuff straight in her head. It doesn’t quite all add up.
‘Who is Suzanne to you? I think it’s about time I went to the police and told them what you—’
‘Shut it, Jo. You don’t know what you’re talking about. As ever, you’re living in your head, making things real that aren’t. Seeing what you want to see.’
Jo can’t contain her anger any longer and takes a swipe at him, all the rage and sadness and hurt and hope and fear bubbling out of her as she breaks down in tears. ‘I hate you, and I hate what you’ve done to me. I wish I’d never met you…’ She thumps at his chest with her fists but he dodges out of the way, looking at her as though she’s gone mad.
He runs out of the door and into the night, but Jo isn’t giving up. She needs to get it all out so she charges after him, stumbling and losing her balance as she hurtles across the gravel drive towards the road. But she’s losing ground as he disappears out into the darkness, onto the lane, knowing he’s slipping away from her again before she’s had her say.
And then the terrible noise.
She isn’t sure what she hears first – the sound of the siren as the ambulance speeds around the sharp bend just outside the drive.
Or the sound of screeching brakes, the brief yell followed by the loud thud.
Then silence.
Just the ominous tick-tick of flashing blue lights.
Followed by shouting, by cursing. The sound of terror in her own head.
It seems as though she doesn’t have control over her limbs, that she’s sinking neck-deep in the gravel, but somehow Jo runs to the road, forces herself to look at the ambulance, squinting at the flashing blue strobe as she sees how the vehicle has come to a sudden stop, slewed diagonally across the lane.
Will is lying on the road in front of it. His legs crushed. Blood pouring from his head. He stares, open-eyed, at the night sky.
Jo wants to scream but it won’t come out. Instead, she feels it burn up her gullet, before she doubles up and vomits into the gutter, her eyes refusing to let go of the mess that barely resembles her husband lying on the road.
The paramedics gather around him, furiously checking him over, loosening his clothing, placing an oxygen mask over his face, while the other pumps his heart with his clamped hands.
Jo can’t stop staring, sick dribbling from her mouth as her stomach keeps convulsing. She slumps down onto the kerb, too exhausted to even cry.
The paramedics look at each other, frowning, one with his fingers set firm beneath Will’s jaw. He shakes his head and they both start up with the resuscitation again but the same thing happens. A moment later and they’re shocking him with paddles placed on his chest, making him look for a split second as if he’s sparked back to life.
But after several attempts one of the paramedics glances at his watch and covers Will’s head and chest with a blanket. They both stand up, scuffing at the ground, calling on their radios as one goes for a clipboard from the cab.
Jo manages to stand too, to walk over to them from where she’s been watching. They had no idea she was there. ‘Is he…?’ she hears herself asking, as if it’s someone else. ‘Is he dead?’
‘I… I’m afraid so,’ the man says, his face ashen. ‘We were on a call-out and… and Christ, the bend came out of nowhere, caught us out at the speed we were going, but… but he came out of nowhere too, and then… There was no chance for us to stop. Jesus Christ,’ he says, clutching his head before regaining his composure. ‘We’ve called for backup, but we’re on an emergency call-out. Are you local? Do you know where Hawthorn Lodge is?’
It’s all Jo can do to point up the driveway of Suzanne’s house. Her arm shakes. ‘For the baby?’ she says, her voice also shaking.
Dead. Will is dead.
The paramedic nods.
‘She’s had the baby,’ she adds, unable to take her eyes off Will’s body on the road. He suddenly seems so small. ‘They’re both doing fine.’
The paramedic nods again, waiting with the ambulance and Will’s body for the backup to arrive, while the other one gathers up various bits of equipment and marches off up the drive.
‘He’s… he’s my husband,’ Jo hears herself saying weakly, pointing to Will. ‘I thought he was dead before, and now… now I know he really is.’ She lets out a hysterical laugh. ‘And he’s never coming back.’ She clutches her head, staggering back to sit down on the front wall of the house, dizzy from shock.
It seems like hours – Jo and the paramedic waiting side by side on the wall, him wrapping a blanket around her because she can’t stop shaking – though in reality it’s only about ten minutes until a police car arrives, its lights flashing in the night. It’s shortly followed by another ambulance, but a car this time. A fine drizzle is falling, making Jo blink more than she needs, making her unsure if the wetness on her face is because she’s crying or from the rain.
The paramedic goes over to the police officer, leaving Jo on the wall, star
ing at the ground, only managing brief looks at Will and the pool of blood he’s lying in now as the realisation sinks in.
He’s gone, gone forever…
She hears the crackle of radios, calm voices talking, the paramedic explaining what happened. Then someone approaches her, stands over her for a second before sitting down.
‘Jo,’ says a familiar voice. When she looks up, Simon is sitting on the wall beside her, his hand on her arm. He’s wearing full uniform. ‘I was just on my way home when I got the emergency call. How are you? This man is your…’ he trails off, unable to find the right word.
‘This is Will, Simon. My husband. I… I can’t even…’ She breaks down then, the tears coming hot and fast. She feels Simon’s arm around her, cradling her. ‘He’s… he’s gone. I had him back for such a short time, and… and Louise had a baby and Suzanne locked us in the bedroom but then she came and helped and then the baby is black and clearly Will’s, because Louise’s husband is white and I just don’t understand. My best friend has been lying to me for the last year, and a long while before that, I imagine, and… Oh God, I can’t stand it.’
More tears, the rain soaking through the blanket, chilling her to the core.
‘Let’s get you inside,’ Simon says calmly, as Jo hiccups through the sobs, trying to fight them back.
She nods, allowing him to help her stand and lead her into the house. There’ll be statements to be made – and not just about what she witnessed tonight. It’s time to tell the police everything. Time to confess what Will did.
Jo glances back over her shoulder at the scene as another police car arrives, the officer talking to the paramedic as the area is cordoned off with yellow tape. She pauses, bringing Simon to a halt too.
Will? she says, seeing him standing beside his own body, not a drop of blood on him.
I never meant to hurt you, Jo-jo… he replies, a blank, unfamiliar look on his face. In fact, she doesn’t recognise anything about him any more.
But you did mean to hurt Suzanne, didn’t you?
Will looks away, his shoulders dropping forward.
The Happy Couple: An absolutely unputdownable and gripping psychological thriller Page 27
