by Linda Huber
‘Is – is your leaving do over already?’ she said, her voice feeble.
Colour drained from Gareth’s cheeks and his chin began to tremble. He lurched up two steps until he was towering over her, and Amanda flinched. She could feel the warmth of his breath and the slight spit as he hissed into her face.
‘You weren’t expecting that, were you? It was a brunch, Amanda. Didn’t you know? And I’d like to know who’s up there in my bedroom.’ He pushed past her and strode upstairs, his feet thudding on each tread.
Amanda released her grip on the banister and stumbled after him. She had never seen him so angry; his lips were white round the edges and his breath was coming in hoarse pants.
Jaden’s voice cried out from his room. ‘Ma-mama!’
‘Gar, it’s not – ’
Gareth disappeared into the bedroom and Amanda staggered after him. This was the worst, the very worst thing she had ever lived through. What would he do to James – were they going to fight? No, she had to stop that – she had to get them out of this. Grabbing Gareth’s t-shirt, she pulled him back. He shook her off and she reeled against the wall, knocking a picture of the three of them to the floor.
James was fumbling with his shirt buttons. Amanda could see the horror in his eyes as he stepped towards Gareth, a trembling hand raised in what was probably meant to be a placatory gesture, but it still felt like a bad film. Gareth balled both fists, and James retreated again.
Jaden’s howls were filling the house now but she didn’t have time to think about that. ‘Gar, no, stop –’
Gareth lunged at James, hands reaching for his throat. ‘You bastard! You -’
‘Gareth! Leave him! You can’t -’ Amanda sprang forward then side-stepped as James dodged Gareth, pushing him back towards the door. Gareth tripped over Amanda’s jeans on the floor and pitched towards her. Panicking, she shoved him away as hard as she could, sobbing as he swayed, pulling James with him as he collided with the mirror on the wardrobe door. The glass broke with a horrible tinkling sound. A sickening crack as both men hit the floor sent a shiver right through Amanda. She screamed, hearing the echoing shriek from Jaden.
James leapt to his feet, blood dripping from his arm onto Amanda’s jeans on the floor. Too horrified to speak, she stood in the wreckage of her bedroom. Shards of mirror lay in front of the wardrobe door, and Gareth was sprawled in the middle of them. His eyes were open and staring. He wasn’t moving.
Amanda sank to her knees beside him, feeling splinters of mirror pierce her skin. Her hand shook on Gareth’s chest. Dear God, was he breathing?
‘Gar? Can you hear me? Are you - ’ Panic swept through her and she moaned, shuddering as she scrambled to her feet and staggered backwards, colliding with the door frame. No, no – look how his head was twisted… and there was no expression at all in those terrible grey eyes…
Unremitting screams from Jaden’s room made the scene before Amanda a million times more awful. ‘He’s dead!’ Her teeth were chattering.
James was wrapping his boxer shorts round his bleeding arm. ‘Don’t be so bloody stupid, he’s not dead. It wasn’t even a hard - ’ He bent over Gareth, feeling for a pulse as he spoke, and Amanda moaned as his face blanched. He sat down heavily on the bed. ‘What are we going to do?’
If she hadn’t known it was James speaking she would never have recognised the voice, a grainy, appalled whisper.
Amanda clutched the door frame, panting. ‘Call an ambulance! Quick, quick – where’s your phone?’ She stretched a hand towards him.
‘He’s dead, he doesn’t need an ambulance!’ James leapt up and pushed her onto the landing. ‘Get Jaden and come downstairs. We have to talk.’
‘We have to get a doctor – they might be able to save him!’ Aghast, Amanda pulled away from him. Her mobile, where was her mobile? Jaden was still howling, and she called out to him. ‘Sleepy-time, lovey! Be a good boy!’ Unsurprisingly, this only made him cry harder.
James tightened the bloody boxer shorts round his arm, his face sheet white. ‘I reckon his neck’s broken. He’s gone, Amanda.’
He pushed her towards Jaden’s room. Amanda grabbed her son from his cot and dashed down to the kitchen. James was leaning over the sink washing the blood from his arm, breathing hoarsely through his mouth. ‘Got a plaster?’
‘Boo boo,’ said Jaden, and Amanda stared. Up till now his only words had been Mama, Dada and bus. She strapped him into his hated high chair and gave him a generous slice of apple cake to keep him busy. Thank God, oh thank God he was too young to understand what was going on. The nausea had returned, dizziness was coming in waves, and her teeth were chattering. Hands shaking, she reached into the high cupboard for the first aid kit. James rummaged for a strip of plaster and she helped him stick it on.
‘We have to call the police, James.’ It didn’t sound like her voice either.
‘Don’t be so stupid. If we do that there’ll be hell to pay.’ He drummed the fingers of his uninjured hand on the table.
Amanda glared at him. What was he getting at? They didn’t have any choice. ‘We have to call them. Or an ambulance.’ It was unbelievable. Gareth – her husband – was dead. Ten minutes ago he’d been alive, happy to be coming home, looking forward to his holiday… and then his last moments had been filled with such horror.
James leaned forwards. ‘We both pushed him, Amanda. They’d arrest us and charge us with manslaughter, even though Gareth attacked me.’
‘We can’t pretend it didn’t happen.’ Amanda sank her head to the table top.
‘We have to plan what we say, then – we have to make it look like an accident.’
‘It was an accident!’ She was crying now; the sheer irrevocability of Gareth’s death was crushing. Jaden’s eyes were fixed on her, his lower lip trembling, and she patted his hand.
James scratched his chin. ‘You’re right. Yes… You could say he was getting changed after work and he fell over something and crashed against the mirror. If we don’t tell them about me the police’d have no reason not to believe you. I’ll go and you can make the bed and phone -’
He strode out to the hallway and Amanda ran after him. Was he going to leave her to face the police alone in the wreckage of her life? James came to a halt by the hall window, moaning as he stared out. Amanda looked too and saw the reason for his alarm. Bob Charles across the road was out washing his car, and a noisy group of boys were playing football on the deserted street, the goalpost level with James’ car. And Mrs Gray next door was sitting in the sunshine beside her lilac tree.
‘Fuck, Amanda – they’ll see me when I go. When you report Gareth dead the police’ll ask around… and my car’s been outside all the time. We have to think of a way out of this.’
Amanda sank down on the stairs and sobbed. There was no way back from a dead man.
James sat beside her and hugged her, and for a brief moment she leaned on him. Jaden was howling in the kitchen and Gareth was dead and there was no one else to lean on.
‘We have to make this look as if it has nothing to do with either of us. Think. Who’s the next person expecting to see Gareth?’
Amanda started back into the kitchen. ‘Well – me, and…’
It was difficult to think clearly, but as far as she knew there was no one expecting Gareth to turn up anywhere soon. He was finished at work, next week he had planned his walking tour, and the week after they were going to Scotland.
‘We’re meeting his mum in Glasgow the week after next.’
‘And the walking tour?’
Amanda clutched her head with both hands. She’d been looking forward to Gareth’s week away. It would have given her and James a lovely long time of meeting whenever they wanted to. What a terrible person she was.
‘He’s going alone. He often does that. Sometimes he goes with friends but this time…’
James tapped his fingertips together. ‘Okay. So theoretically he could have an accident out walking next week? He could fall over
a cliff, couldn’t he?’
Amanda felt stupid and slow; her mind wasn’t working properly. Gareth was planning to walk along the coastal path from Lamorna, heading towards Plymouth. They’d done a section of it together before Jaden was born. The views were magnificent, but the path was tricky in places. There was nothing Amanda could think of to say to James. What on earth was he proposing? To throw Gareth over a cliff at midnight? She could feel her eyes widening in disbelief.
James sat staring at nothing, then reached over and grabbed her hand. ‘Listen. We’ll work something out, but until we do we have to make sure we behave absolutely normally. Give me a couple of large bin bags and some tape. I’ll wrap him up and come back later to take him away. I’ll go back to – to work now, though how I’ll manage anything I don’t know. You clean the room upstairs. Next time I come I’ll have thought of a plan. I promise. There’s no sense us going to prison over this; it wasn’t our fault.’
But it was, thought Amanda. If they hadn’t been in bed together none of this would have happened. But if the police came here and saw the bedroom in the state it was now… if she was arrested… She looked at Jaden, happy again with his cake. Wiping her nose on the sleeve of her robe, she blinked at James, then pulled the roll of bin bags out from under the sink. He slunk from the room, and she buried her head in her arms on the table, listening as he slow-stepped upstairs. This was surreal; what were they doing? But what choice was there? She couldn’t leave her boy while she was arrested and proving her innocence. Supposing the police didn’t believe it was an accident? Jaden stretched out his arms and she lifted him and tried to hug him, but he wriggled until she put him down.
It was impossible to block out the sounds from upstairs. The rustle of bin bags, then thumps and scrapes, and groans from James. He was putting Gareth into the spare room. His face was like grey marble when he came back down, and Amanda saw blood seeping through his plaster. Not speaking, she pulled out the first aid kit again.
When she was done James hugged her tightly for a few moments, then left. She heard him drive off down the road.
He hadn’t been gone two minutes when Gareth’s mobile rang upstairs.
Chapter Seven
Friday 16th May
Rick’s car swung into the driveway, and Ella closed her eyes in relief. At last.
‘Sorry, sorry, got stuck on the phone to India. I’ll just go and change.’ He ran upstairs, barely looking at her.
Irritation gone, Ella stood at the front room window. Ten minutes till Mel and Soraya arrived. Would she stand here one day, waiting for Soraya to come home from school? Or would she collect her daughter? Some of the local mothers did group school runs, she knew. Anticipation fizzed through Ella; this must, this simply must work out for them. If someone came now and said, ‘You can’t have Soraya,’ she would be devastated.
Mel’s car pulled up at the roadside and Ella hurried to the door. Mel was standing beside the driver’s door, leaning on the roof, so obviously she wasn’t coming inside. Soraya emerged from the back and ran up the path, her face one big question mark.
‘I’ll collect her at five!’ called Mel, and Ella waved.
Soraya didn’t look back, and Ella took her hand and led her inside.
‘What are we going to do?’
Ella laughed. ‘Hello to you too. We’ll go for a walk first, to look at the sea, and then we’re coming back here for the best tea you can imagine, and then we’ll play in the garden.’
‘I wanted to make a sandcastle and go paddling and have an ice cream on the beach,’ said Soraya, her voice disappointed.
Ella remembered what Mel had advised about being firm. ‘We’ll save that for another time. A whole afternoon at the beach needs better weather, and there isn’t much we can do about that, is there?’
Soraya peered up at the sky, where grey clouds were scudding in front of the wind. ‘Where’s Rick?’
‘Right here,’ said Rick, running downstairs. ‘Come on, I can smell the sea. Put your jacket on, you’ll need it.’
They took Soraya to Porthgwidden beach where it was relatively sheltered. It was an odd feeling, thought Ella. Three people who could become a family – but they didn’t really know each other yet. The tide was out, but the sea was stormy enough to be impressive, and Soraya squealed in excitement as the wind whipped her hair across her face. On the beach she started to collect shells, her eyes dreamy. Ella and Rick wandered along beside her, Ella pointing out shells and commenting on them. Rick was lost in his own world, staring across the ocean, hands thrust into his jacket pockets. His replies were monosyllabic when Ella tried to draw him into the conversation, and after a while she gave up and concentrated on Soraya, who wasn’t saying much either but was definitely enjoying her outing. After a while the rain came on and they ran back to the car.
‘Are you okay?’ said Ella quietly, when Rick had fastened Soraya’s seatbelt.
His face was drawn. ‘Sorry. My head’s still in India with the contract we haven’t got yet.’
He was still lost in thought when they arrived home, and Ella gave his arm a little shake while Soraya was washing her shells in the bathroom.
‘For heaven’s sake forget about work. We’ve only got her for another hour and a half. We need your full presence, please.’
He pulled his arm away, and Ella struggled to hide her exasperation. He might make a bit more effort. Dodgy contracts belonged to everyday life, but there would never be another first visit. She called Soraya to the kitchen table, where the girl gobbled down a large slice of cake with a scoop of ice cream on the side.
‘Can I have some more? Please?’
‘Here you are,’ said Ella, providing a sliver with a small scoop of vanilla. When Soraya asked for a third portion, however, she shook her head, mimicking Mel’s manner. ‘Seconds are fine on special occasions, thirds are mostly too much. But you can take the rest of the cake back with you. It’ll still be nice tomorrow if you put it in the fridge. You can have a chocolate biscuit to finish with.’
Soraya took a biscuit. ‘Auntie Mel says no seconds,’ she said, squinting at Ella across the table, a small smile on her face.
Ella smiled back to gain a few seconds thinking time. Was Soraya being provocative?
‘Auntie Mel’s right. Seconds are for special occasions, like your first visit here. Eat up, and when you’ve finished we can go and look at the garden now the rain’s off.’
To Ella’s amusement Soraya looked abashed. Little monkey, she’d been testing them. The child passed by on her way to the kitchen door, and Ella hugged her spontaneously.
‘I’m so glad you’ve come today.’
The beam that had first grabbed Ella’s heart flashed across Soraya’s face before she wriggled away and ran outside. Ella glanced round for Rick, but he’d opened up the laptop in the dining room. Didn’t he want to get to know Soraya? Or was this his way of showing her this child hadn’t been his first choice? Ella hesitated in the doorway. If she complained too hard he might go off in a huff and spoil the rest of the visit. Even now, her pleasure was marred by frustration at his behaviour.
‘Be with you in a minute. I want to check something first,’ he said, then pulled a face at her. ‘I’m being a pain, I know. Sorry. But there’ll be plenty more visits and you’re more important to her anyway.’
Ella put that remark away to talk about later. He shouldn’t be going into adoption thinking of himself as the less-important parent – that would be asking for trouble. Fortunately, Soraya didn’t appear to see things that way. As soon as Rick appeared she dropped the ball she and Ella had been throwing about, and ran up to him.
‘Ella says you built the shed.’
‘Didn’t you believe me?’ said Ella, laughing.
Rick laughed too, but Ella noticed the strain on his face. The contract must still be uncertain, which probably meant it would stay that way till Monday. Happy weekend. Oh well, maybe he’d have snapped out of it tomorrow.
The shed
was one of the large-size chalet kind, used to store garden equipment and as a DIY workshop. Ella watched as Rick showed Soraya how the walls and floor fitted together. The little girl was fascinated by his collection of tools, and hefted a hammer which Rick promptly removed from her grasp.
‘That one’s adults only,’ he said. ‘But tell you what, I’ll get a basket next week and screw it to the end wall, and next time you come we can play basketball.’
The beam was back immediately, and a lump rose in Ella’s throat. Poor little scrap she was. If ever a child had been crying out for a home and a family who loved her, it was Soraya.
‘What do you want to do with your shells?’ she asked. ‘You can take them back to Auntie Mel’s, or you can leave them with us. You could have a little patch here for a shell garden, if you like.’
‘Oh! Can we make it over there? Beside the bush with the butterflies?’ Soraya looked as if she’d been given the moon, and tears shot into Ella’s eyes.
They spent the rest of the visit constructing the shell garden, which Soraya had definite ideas about. Two of the butterflies came to investigate, and the child’s face was a picture. At five o’clock Ella and Rick stood waving as Mel drove off with Soraya, a plastic bag with a few of the prettiest shells safely hidden in the child’s jacket pocket, ‘in case the others take them’.
Ella sighed as the car turned the corner. How empty she felt now. ‘Well, that’s that till next week. I’m glad she’s coming back so soon, we - ’
She turned, but Rick had gone back to the garden. Ella joined him as he stood staring at the shed.
‘It’s a good place to put up a basket,’ she said, slipping her arm through his and feeling him jump in surprise. ‘Basketball’s the kind of game kids can play by themselves as well as with other people. Great idea.’
‘What? Oh – yes. I was thinking about something else.’
Ella left him to it. It was a pity he’d been so distracted, but like he’d said, there would be other visits. She was clearing the kitchen when Rick appeared suddenly in the kitchen door.
