by Rona Halsall
‘I can’t do this. I need to rest,’ she said, reaching the doorway. ‘I don’t want you to come near me, understand? Keep away.’
He raised his hands in surrender. ‘Okay, okay. You’ll probably feel better for a bit of a nap.’
She turned, ran up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door behind her, suddenly weary of it all. She stared out of the window, at the grey drizzle, and she wondered what she was going to do now. I’ve got my passport, a return ticket, money and my new phone. Everything she needed to get herself back to the UK. There, nothing too much to worry about. She tried to talk herself into a state of calm, but the weight of her worries pressed down on her and she lay on the bed, hands on her stomach, consumed by the thought that he was looking in her bag, taking her means of escape. He’d done it before and would surely do it again.
Nothing much you can do about that now, she told herself, thinking that she’d hide her valuables at the next opportunity. She tossed and turned, trying to get herself comfortable, all the time wondering what Dan was doing. And more to the point, what he was hiding. She shuffled over to his side of the bed, considering where she might find some answers. In his bedside table? Isn’t that where he’d kept the keys? Maybe there was more that he was keeping in there.
She stopped and listened, could hear his footsteps downstairs, the sound of chopping. He was cooking. Good – that meant he’d be busy for a little while. Time for her to have a look around.
His bedside table held nothing of interest, so she crept over to the wardrobe and looked through pockets, under folded clothes, quietly got a chair to stand on and felt on top, searched underneath. Nothing. She scoured the whole room and was about to give up when she had a thought. Under the mattress. It was the only place she hadn’t looked, and it had been one of her favourite hiding places when she was a child.
Her hands wriggled under his side of the bed, up and down, then they caught on something. It felt like an envelope and she was about to pull it out when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. She threw herself back on the bed and feigned sleep, hoping he wouldn’t notice the heaving of her chest or her body shaking with each thunderous beat of her heart.
The door opened and she heard his feet come in, then stop. She could hear his breathing; could he hear hers? Far too fast for someone who was supposed to be asleep. She blinked her eyes open.
‘Dan?’
‘Oh, you’re awake. I didn’t want to disturb you, but I’ve made some pasta if you fancy something to eat.’
Hunger gnawed at her insides, and after a moment she slowly pushed herself up to sit on the edge of the bed. A wave of dizziness made her hesitate before standing.
‘Can we just rule a line under the past and start again? Please, babe. Can we do that?’ His eyes gleamed and she thought he might have been crying.
He sat next to her, took her hand in both of his, and she was reminded again of how big he was, an enormous presence that had once filled her with unconditional love. Now she didn’t know how she felt. His thumb caressed the back of her hand, a surprisingly sensual movement, and she longed for everything to be normal. Back to how it was just over a week ago. Her stomach grumbled, and he laughed.
‘Come on.’ He squeezed her hand, starting to stand. ‘Food’s going cold and it sounds like you’re ready for it.’
He stood and pulled her to her feet, a movement she couldn’t have resisted even if she’d wanted to. She could believe everything was normal, couldn’t she? Gran’s happy with Janelle looking after her. More than happy. Chloe was no longer needed, or even wanted, in Brighton. All her ties had been cut. Perhaps she should relax and see what happened, let this thing run its course. Treat it as an extended honeymoon, and let everything settle down. She decided that she wouldn’t mention any of her questions over their lunch. She’d wait and see if Dan volunteered any information first.
The smell of garlic and basil got stronger as they headed down the stairs and into the kitchen, where he’d laid the table; a salad and a jug of fresh orange juice sat alongside a steaming bowl of pasta.
‘Smells delicious,’ she said as she sat down, light-headed with hunger. She poured herself a glass of orange juice and gulped it down, the sugar zinging into her bloodstream. As they ate, she thought that her life had become completely surreal. They chatted about the weather and the food and the chill in the air. Everything except his secrets and lies. Or her worries and fears. She watched him, studied his face, his eyes, noticed the vein pulsing on his forehead again.
He’s not as relaxed as he’s making out, is he?
She chewed her food, taking her time while she thought about her next move. The envelope. What was in the hidden envelope? It would only take a minute to whip it out and sneak it into the bathroom where she could have a proper look.
‘I’ll clear up, don’t you worry about that,’ he said when they’d finished. ‘How about a coffee? Or is it true that coffee doesn’t taste very nice when you’re pregnant?’
I’m pregnant. The fact of the matter hadn’t really registered yet and she knew she needed to look after herself better, focus on the needs of this new life inside her.
She forced herself to smile, act normal. ‘I hadn’t noticed any difference to be honest. But I feel a bit grubby after travelling. I’m going to have a shower and freshen up, change out of these clothes.’
He smiled at her. ‘Okay. Take your time. Then maybe we could go for a walk this afternoon, now that the rain’s cleared. Bit of fresh air would probably be good for both of us.’
She nodded, her focus not on what he was saying but on what he might be hiding.
Upstairs, she closed the door and dashed over to the bed, reaching under the mattress and pulling out the envelope. It was very ordinary, didn’t look special in any way, but she clasped it to her chest like it was treasure. She hurried into the bathroom, locked the door and knelt on the floor, shaking out the contents. There was a white envelope with ‘Marriage Certificate’ printed on the front. She pulled out the crisp document, recognising it as the one they’d signed. A second envelope was more battered, older, and the document inside had been handled a few times, judging by the folds and the dog-eared corners.
When she pulled the contents out, Chloe realised there were two pieces of paper, one folded into the other. She pulled them apart and laid them on the floor, her heart pounding as she started reading. The first one was Dan’s birth certificate and it took her a moment to work out what was puzzling her before it clicked. The surname. His mother’s maiden name was Watson and that was the name Chloe knew her by as a patient: Alma Watson. She’d assumed his father must be Marsden and Dan had kept his surname after his parents had divorced, but his father’s surname was Romano. She studied the second document, and everything became clear. It was a certificate confirming that Dan’s surname had been changed to Marsden by deed poll just over six years ago.
The thump of footsteps coming up the stairs made her jump up and turn on the shower before checking that she’d actually locked the door.
Dan had changed his name six years ago. Why would he do that? And why didn’t he tell me?
The bedroom door opened, footsteps slapping across the tiled floor. ‘You all right, Chloe?’ He was standing right next to the door.
‘Fine,’ she shouted, ‘I’m fine.’ But her thoughts were racing and fine was the last thing she was feeling. She listened, but she didn’t hear him go out of the bedroom. He was waiting for her.
Thirty-Three
After a quick shower, she opened the bathroom door to see Dan sitting on the bed in front of her. His jaw was hard, his face stern. But that wasn’t what caught her attention. What made her heart flutter like a trapped bird was what he was holding in his hands: their passports and her purse.
He’s been in my bag! And he was intent on making sure she didn’t go anywhere, taking away any choices, any means of escape.
Panic churned in her belly. I’m trapped.
She stopped in the d
oorway, feeling vulnerable, wrapped only in a towel. Does he know I’ve got the envelope? That I know his secret? She’d pushed the envelope on top of the bathroom cabinet, to be retrieved later when she had the opportunity, and she couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder, checking that it couldn’t be seen. Satisfied that it was hidden, she decided that the best means of defence was attack. She turned and scowled at him.
‘Why are you taking things out of my bag?’ She pointed to his hands, finger jabbing the air. ‘Were those going to mysteriously go missing, like my phone? Hmm?’
He put the valuables on the bed and was silent for a moment. When he looked at her there was fire in his eyes, and she could tell that he was wrestling with his temper. ‘For the hundredth time, I’m just doing my best to look after you.’ There was a hardness to his voice that made her shiver. ‘You can’t go running off again. I’ve got to keep you safe.’
She threw up her hands, frustration building at the back of her neck, filling her head. ‘But why am I not safe, Dan? Why? You just haven’t given me a sensible answer to that one, have you? All I can see is you becoming more and more controlling and paranoid about non-existent threats. And now, if you’d hidden those things—’ she pointed to the pile of stuff on the bed ‘—I’d be a prisoner here, wouldn’t I?’
He glared at her. ‘I can’t risk you doing something stupid… We were lucky last time, but—’
‘Me, do something stupid?’ she yelled, unable to contain her anger a moment longer. ‘Yes, well, I’m beginning to think that marrying you might have been the most stupid thing I’ve ever done.’
He winced as if she’d hit him, looked down at his hands, his fingers twirling his wedding ring round his finger. Tension fizzed through the air and her chest heaved with indignation.
When he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. ‘Don’t say that, babe. Please don’t say that. I love you more than anything. Honestly I do.’
His words tore her in two, making her want to hold him and slap him at the same time. A silent scream echoed inside her head, piercing through her thoughts. How are we ever going to make this right? The strength was seeping out of her, the emotional tension draining all the energy from her legs, and she knew that she needed to sit down before she fell over. She shivered and leant against the wall, pulling the towel tighter round her body.
‘I don’t want to fight,’ he murmured. ‘I really don’t.’ His eyes met hers, beseeching. ‘Why won’t you stop asking questions and let me look after you?’
‘I don’t need looking after!’ she snapped, her hands bunching the towel closer to her chest. ‘That’s not why I married you. I don’t need a bloody security officer!’
His eyes dropped to the pile of possessions on the duvet and she could see his lips moving as if he was working out what to say. Obviously, he’d come up here to hide her things. Then it occurred to her that he’d probably tried to hide them with the rest of his valuables. In the envelope. Which she’d taken.
An angry silence filled the air, pressing her against the wall.
Christ! He knows.
His eyes met hers and she couldn’t look away, could feel him searching her face for the truth. She’d always been a terrible liar, her face too expressive, and she could feel her resolve starting to crumble under his steady gaze. ‘
I think you have something of mine,’ he said eventually, anger thrumming in his voice.
He stood, and she started to shake, her voice wavering as he stepped closer.
‘What are you hiding, Dan? Why did you change your name six years ago? Coming to Spain that was you running away from something, wasn’t it?’
Her wet hair dripped down her back and her teeth started to chatter but she couldn’t move, couldn’t think about getting dressed until he’d given her an answer.
He stopped, and she noticed the movement of his hands, clenched by his sides. She slid a step along the wall, closer to the doorway of the bathroom.
‘Goddammit!’
She jumped, startled by his shout. ‘Tell me, Dan. Tell me everything. Otherwise we’re finished. This is over.’ She moved a step further away, pulled her towel even tighter round her body, her shivering uncontrollable now. ‘Because if you don’t tell me, it means you don’t trust me, and without trust, what have we really got?’
He gazed at her for a long moment then nodded, his lips the thinnest of lines. ‘Okay. If that’s what you want, I’ll tell you.’ He went and sat on the bed. She couldn’t move. He stared at her while she shivered. ‘Why don’t you get dressed?’
She scurried past him to the wardrobe and flung on the first clothes she could find, somehow embarrassed by her nakedness and the knowledge that he was watching her. A couple of minutes later, she was dressed and feeling more comfortable, though her teeth still chattered. She pulled a fleece over her sweatshirt, zipped it up to the neck and gave her hair a quick towel dry, all the time wondering if she actually wanted to know what his secret was, whether the knowledge would draw a line under their relationship forever.
He beckoned to her, patting the bed next to him, and she hesitated a moment, deciding instead to pull up the chair that stood in the corner of the room. The hurt in his eyes was clear to see and she almost relented before settling opposite him, telling herself she could move closer when she felt more comfortable. When she knew what he was hiding.
He leant forwards, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, staring at the floor. She waited for him to speak, all the while thinking this must be something bad because he was struggling to get whatever he needed to say out of his mouth.
‘Dan, you’re probably overthinking things,’ she murmured, the suspense creating a knot in her stomach. ‘Like me and my mum. All those years I convinced myself I’d killed her, but when I talked it over with Gran, I realised my perception of the situation was all wrong. I was overwhelmed by guilt and it coloured my view of things.’
Dan huffed. ‘Oh, I don’t think there’s any doubt about what happened with me. No doubt at all.’
‘So, tell me.’ She sighed into the silence, frustrated by his reticence. ‘We can’t move on until you do.’
She heard him swallow before he mumbled, ‘I killed a man.’
Her eyelids fluttered, and her heart missed a beat. ‘Sorry? What did you say?’
He ran his tongue round dry lips. ‘I said, I killed a man.’
Her imagination set off at a jog, flicking terrible images through her mind. Blood and guts and scenes of horror. Lifeless, staring eyes. Battered, bleeding flesh.
She leant back and stared at him, but his eyes were downcast, his shoulders slumped.
‘It was an accident,’ he muttered, hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles were white. ‘But I still killed him.’
Her mind latched onto the word ‘accident’ and it soothed her slightly. Perhaps this wasn’t as bad as it sounded. Or perhaps, like her, he’d gathered a blanket of guilt around himself and worn it like a straitjacket.
‘What?’ She hardly dared ask but knew she needed details. ‘What happened?’
She heard him sniff and she realised he was crying, his shoulders shuddering, and her heart went out to him, her body wanting to wrap itself around him to soothe his pain. It wasn’t like he was a cold-hearted killer. Not dangerous. And she knew the power of guilt, how it gnawed at you in the night, robbing you of sleep, gobbling up any confidence and self-esteem you might have had.
He killed a man.
The words were on repeat in her brain, going round and round, getting louder and louder. When he did eventually speak, she jumped, the sound of his voice shattering her thoughts like glass.
‘He was a guy from rugby. Jason.’ He stopped and took a deep breath, wiped his hands over his face. ‘More of an acquaintance than a friend, if I’m honest. We’d always rubbed each other up the wrong way, something about him… Cocky, you know? He always had to be centre of attention, playing tricks on people, making them look daft. Most of the other lads to
ok it in their stride, but I just thought he was a tosser.’
Dan’s hands found each other again, clasping together as if his life depended on it.
‘I didn’t see him that often. We didn’t play on the same team, but our teams were in the same league, so we’d play them a couple of times a year. He was bloody rough, always getting binned for fouls, bad tackles, you know, hurting people to get them off the field.’
His voice wavered, and he came to a halt, his flow of words blocked by memories.
Without thinking, she went and sat next to him, stroked his arm in encouragement, needing to know what had happened. ‘Go on, you’ll feel better once you’ve told me. Then there’ll be no more secrets.’
‘We’d just played against them and we were all in the pub. I’d managed to avoid him and was at the bar waiting to be served when this girl started talking to me. We were just chatting, having a bit of a joke about how long we were having to wait. Anyway, I got my round of drinks and took them outside. Next thing I know, I’m being shoved in the back, and the four pints of beer I was carrying went flying everywhere.’
She could see a sheen of sweat on his brow as he chewed at his bottom lip. Still he wouldn’t look at her.
‘And then’ His breath was coming fast now, like he was running. ‘And then I swung round, didn’t think about it, didn’t know I was going to do it, you know, just instinct. And I caught him in the stomach and he went flying. There was a big group of us outside and everybody laughed. But he didn’t see the funny side. He got up and his face was bright red. I knew then he was after trouble. Anyway, he started shouting at me, coming right close, his finger stabbing at me, shouting, “You keep away from my girlfriend!” He was right in my face, so close he was spraying me with spittle. So, I started backing off a bit. I didn’t know who he was talking about. Then a girl came running out, shouting at him to stop being a stupid bastard – it was the girl I’d been talking to at the bar.’
