by K. L. Slater
Jill sighed and massaged her temples. ‘I’m not sure I can deal with more bad news. This is my first hangover for about fifteen years and it’s in its second day now.’
‘That good at Bridget’s party, was it?’
Jill grimaced and led her into the living room where they both sat down. ‘I’ll make us a drink but first, tell me. What’s wrong?’
‘It’s easiest to just take a look.’
Audrey passed her phone over and watched as Jill stared at the flattering photograph of Bridget and Tom looking into each other’s eyes. The national newspaper headline read: Grieving mother finds love with son’s killer.
‘Oh no, I’ve been dreading something like this,’ Jill whispered, her hand shaking. ‘I’ve been checking Bridget’s Facebook regularly to see if she’s posted more wedding pictures, but it hadn’t occurred to me to search the general press.’
Audrey held her hand out for her phone back but Jill didn’t even notice she’d done so. She was unable to tear her eyes away from the photograph. Audrey understood. She herself had been shocked. Bridget looked about thirty-five years old in the picture, dressed in flattering colours of pale gold and honey. Tom was handsome and rugged in a navy open-necked shirt and with his hair swept back in a dashing style Audrey hadn’t seen him sport before.
The camera had caught them at a magical moment. The buzz of electricity between them was almost tangible and almost made you want a piece of what they had … that transparent yearning for each other that not everyone got to experience.
Jill was stuck in some sort of trance staring at the photograph, so Audrey gently took the phone out of her hands and began to read the report out loud.
Ten years ago, Bridget Wilson thought her own life was over when her eighteen-year-old son, Jesse, was killed by a single punch issued by his best friend, Tom Billinghurst, also eighteen. Six months ago, Bridget and Tom secretly married in a special ceremony at HMP Nottingham, and now Jesse’s killer is her husband.
* * *
How can a grieving mother travel so far from that place of devastation years earlier? How is it possible to fall in love with the man who ended your son’s life so callously?
* * *
‘Tom was a big part of it,’ Bridget told the Daily Mail. ‘We both entered the restorative justice programme at the prison and it was impossible not to be touched by his honesty, his remorse and, more than anything, his need for me, as Jesse’s mum, to forgive him. Over time, we grew closer and fell in love. We never planned to get married, but it was a natural step to making a completely fresh start together when he was released.’
‘I don’t believe it,’ Jill raged, suddenly snapping back to life. ‘It’s making Tom sound so … so guilty! It wasn’t like that. He didn’t mean to kill Jesse, he—’
‘Jill, listen,’ Audrey said gently. ‘There’s more.’
Billinghurst is now a quiet man of twenty-eight. Does the age gap between the couple bother him?
* * *
‘As far as I’m concerned, age is just a number. I’ve never felt as close to anyone as I do to Bridget. She’s such a generous, forgiving soul. I’ll be forever grateful to her for giving me the chance to make amends. All I want now is to spend the rest of my life trying to redeem myself for the enormous loss I caused her.’
* * *
Bridget and Tom have bought a smart new home in an affluent area of Nottinghamshire.
* * *
So what about the future? What are the couple’s immediate plans?
* * *
Bridget told us, ‘Tom will soon take up a key position in my Young Men Matter charity. He’ll be talking to groups of people about his own redemption and how he discovered the power of admitting his guilt – to himself as well as to me, Jesse’s mother.’
* * *
Tom added, ‘I’ll be speaking to young people about the need to look at their own families and what they’re told growing up, how they’re raised. I never realised at the time, but my own upbringing contributed to my lack of empathy and failure to see beyond my own wants and needs.’
* * *
‘I want to help Tom heal from his damaging childhood,’ Bridget added. ‘It’s time for him to shine without the shadow of domineering family members to dim his light.’
Audrey pressed a tissue into her friend’s hand and Jill looked surprised, as if she didn’t realise her cheeks were wet with tears.
‘It’s so painful to see you suffer like this, Jill, but I had to let you know when I saw it. I knew it would kill you to hear it from someone else, or if you’d stumbled on the article yourself.’
‘I don’t know what to say.’ Jill dabbed at her eyes. ‘Have I really been such a terrible mother all these years?’
‘No! This article is utter crap. It’s clickbait, a lurid story designed to attract people to the news website.’
‘So Tom didn’t actually say those things about me … about us?’
Audrey tucked her wavy chestnut hair behind her ears. ‘Who knows? They probably twisted his words, exaggerated them, but I think you should speak to him about it.’
‘And say what, exactly? You don’t know the gory details yet but … Friday night was not what you’d call a success. I said some things I don’t regret but I haven’t heard from Tom yet.’ She sat up a little straighter. ‘I’m glad you told me though.’
Audrey grabbed Jill’s hand. ‘My heart’s breaking for you. You’ve given up everything to keep things stable and prepare for Tom coming home. I feel so angry with him for doing this. I feel like going over there and—’
‘No, no. You mustn’t do that, Audrey. This is not your fight.’
Audrey’s eyes flashed. ‘I can’t believe they’d be so heartless, giving an interview like that without a thought for your feelings. What happened on Friday? What did you say?’
Jill closed her eyes as if she were trying to shut out the memory of the evening. ‘It’s a long story and I’ve got such a thumping head. Suffice to say, I’m even more convinced she’s not genuine, Audrey. The house is covered in photographs of Jesse as a kid and Tom has been cut out of most of them.’
‘What?’
Jill nodded. ‘She’s playing some kind of sick game, pretending to be the devoted wife when it’s clear that underneath, she still blames Tom. I’ll tell you in detail once I get rid of this hangover.’
‘Are you going to tell Robert about the interview, or do you want me to have a word with him?’
‘I’m not sure he’s talking to me after how I showed him up at the party, either,’ Jill said miserably. ‘Put it out of your mind for now.’
‘I think you should do the same,’ Audrey said. ‘I’ll make us a drink.’
Jill followed her into the kitchen and Audrey glanced at her white knuckles. Her fists were coiled so tightly her fingernails must have been digging into her palms. There was no chance of Audrey putting it out of her mind. In setting up this article and the things she’d said in it, Bridget Wilson had basically declared war on Tom’s family.
Audrey felt sick at the hidden betrayals Jill didn’t even know about yet. She pushed the thought away as fast as it came into her head.
Jill would hate her when she found out what she’d done but Audrey was too far in to change her mind now.
Thirty
Ellis
On Monday morning, from a sheltered spot at the far side of the playground, Ellis watched the new boy at break time.
He’d joined the school last week and he was in Year 4, a year below Ellis, who was now a Year 5 pupil. Next year he’d be going to the big comp in the next town. Compared to him, this new boy was a little kid.
His nan had insisted that Tom walk home from school with him last Friday, and it had made Ellis furious. He’d refuse to let Tom walk with him later today if he turned up, cramping his style. Ellis knew what she was up to, she was hoping that time spent together would mean they grew closer. How twisted was that? His nan expected Ellis to become friendly with
the man who was responsible for murdering Jesse, his own dad?
Ellis hated Tom with all his heart. Hated him. He strutted about his nan’s house as if he owned the place, and kept grabbing her and kissing her, jumping out like a big kid from round corners so she squealed like a young girl. It was gross and pathetic.
Ellis didn’t really care if Tom had killed his dad by accident like his nan had told him. The fact was, he had punched him and his dad had fallen and hit his head and died. Whichever way you looked at it, the fact that he was dead was all Tom’s doing.
Ellis had tried to talk to his mum about not wanting to see Tom, but she’d got stressed out about it.
‘I don’t want to go to Nan’s any more,’ he’d said decisively. ‘Not if he’s there.’
His mum had held her head as if she had a splitting pain.
‘Can’t you see, I’m between a rock and a hard place, Ellis. I’d like nothing more than to walk away from what your nan’s doing, but I can’t afford those gaming subscriptions, or that Jack Wills stuff you like to wear now. But it won’t be for long, I promise. I’m working on it and soon things are going to get much better.’
Her hands had scrunched into tight fists, though, and Ellis knew she felt as angry as he did. Tom was affecting his mum’s life in a bad way too. But she never mentioned the other thing about him. The thing Ellis wasn’t allowed to talk about.
Everything had been so much better when Tom had still been in prison.
Ellis sometimes lay in bed at night planning how he might get revenge on Tom for what he’d done. His head used to be full of his gaming tactics before he dropped off to sleep, but now that had all changed. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d fallen asleep with a picture in his mind of Tom hanging by the neck from a tree or left a bloody mess in the middle of the road after Ellis had pushed him under a passing truck.
It had been horrible on Friday night, having to be with them all in the same house for that stupid dinner. His mum had ended up being upset, too. He loved his nan, but everything was messed up because she’d brought Tom Billinghurst into all their lives.
Ellis did feel a bit sorry for Tom’s mum, Jill. It wasn’t her fault that Tom had turned out to be a murderer. She was a nice lady and Ellis sensed from her dull eyes that she felt as sad as he was underneath. His mum said it was because Jill thought Nan would end up hurting Tom in some way.
Ellis hoped she did. If his nan made sure Tom got what he deserved for what he’d done, everything would be cool again, go back to normal.
The new boy leaned against a wall with one leg bent so that the heel of his shoe tapped against the brickwork. This was an attempt to look cool, as if he wasn’t bothered he had no one to stand with. But Ellis knew the signs of feeling nervous. He remembered from his own first days in school.
The boy kept biting the inside of his cheek, inspecting his fingernails. The kid acted like he was too cool to get involved with the other boys’ activities, but Ellis knew it was just a show. He recalled how rotten it felt.
Like the new boy putting on an act, Ellis had tried to do the same with his nan when Tom had first moved in. But it was so hard to pull it off. Tom Billinghurst was a convicted killer and nothing he did would ever change that. Not offering to set up a PlayStation on the TV or asking Ellis lame questions about his Nintendo Switch games. Ellis saw through his tricks.
Ellis’s nan was a smart woman, everybody round here said so. When Jesse had died, instead of moping around, his nan had started the Young Men Matter charity in his dad’s memory. Now she had a much better life. She lived in her big new house and Ellis had his own bedroom there. His nan also drove a really cool car. She’d let Ellis play his favourite rap music loud in the summer when they had the roof down.
Ellis loved his nan but it was impossible to understand why she’d married Tom. His mum said she didn’t know, either.
‘Maybe she’s having a midlife crisis and thinks she’s got herself a toy boy,’ his mum had said. ‘She’ll be sick of him soon, wait and see.’
Before Tom was released from the nick, his nan had put her arms around Ellis and held him tight until he squirmed.
‘I can’t expect you to understand yet, but you’ll see soon enough. Everyone will,’ she’d whispered. ‘I loved your dad more than anything in the world and that will never change. That’s all you need to know for now.’
It was all a bit weird, and Ellis was glad to be at school, away from all the screwed-up adults.
Ellis wasn’t one of the most popular boys in school. He didn’t belong to the sporty set like Henry Farmer, who played rugby and lived in a massive house with an indoor swimming pool. But he was tall for his age and he handled himself well. He had a natural disrespect for the teachers – like his nan said Jesse used to – and backchatted them in class like the other kids wouldn’t dare.
This gave him a certain status, and as a result he had collected a few hangers-on. A couple of them were proper psychos who’d been given several fixed-term exclusions for bad behaviour. They were the kind of kids most of his classmates steered clear of. But they came in useful now and again, and it was better than being a Nobby no-mates like the new kid. Ellis had seen his parents dropping him off yesterday morning. Seen him hug his dad and give him a high-five, something Ellis himself would never be able to do with his own dad.
He turned to Monty Ladrow, who was busy relieving a Year 4 kid of his lunch money. The word around here was that Monty’s uncle ran a bit of an extortion racket on the local housing estates. If people paid him a monthly fee, their property miraculously remained safe. Due to missing so much school because of various exclusions over the last year, Monty had to have extra help in most subjects. He had no safety catch when it came to temper, and in Ellis’s opinion, he was definitely someone it was best to have onside.
‘See that new kid over there?’ Ellis hissed in his ear. ‘Thinks he’s a proper tough nut, he does.’
Instantly interested, Monty released the whimpering Year 4 kid from a headlock. ‘Yeah?’
Ellis nodded. ‘I heard he’s been bragging that his dad has done time in the nick, so he thinks he’s rock hard himself. Reckons everyone here’s scared to death of him.’
Monty frowned. ‘You’re joking? He’s proper weedy.’
‘Right. I told him, I said, you’re not the only one whose dad has been sent down, Monty’s dad has too, and you know what he said?’
Monty’s face twisted and Ellis bit back a smirk. He was so easy to wind up. ‘What? What did he say?’
‘He said your dad was a pussy.’
‘I’ll kill him and then he’ll not be saying anything,’ Monty snarled.
‘Well, I’d sort it out quick if I were you. People might get the wrong idea about your old man.’ Seeing the dark expression that immediately fell over Monty’s face, Ellis hastily added, ‘I bet your dad would kill his dad if they had a fight.’
Ellis had never met Monty’s dad, but he’d heard the other kids saying he was a nutter who’d been in and out of prison so many times Monty hardly knew him at all.
He watched as Monty stomped across the playground. He moved so fast, the new kid only spotted him when he was a few paces away. He dropped his foot down from the wall and stood very still.
Monty jutted his chin forward, then his arms shot out and he pushed hard. The younger boy lost his balance and stumbled. This immediately attracted the attention of other kids close by, and a small crowd swiftly gathered around them.
‘Fight! Fight!’ they began to chant in unison.
Monty easily wrestled the boy to the floor and managed to hit him in the face twice before a nearby teacher pulled them apart.
Ellis melted away into the shadows. His shoulders and neck felt more relaxed and his head wasn’t banging any more. He felt better already.
Thirty-One
Bridget
When I woke up, it took me a while to come around. I lay in bed longer than I should’ve done trying to drum up some ener
gy and positive thoughts. An uneasy feeling radiated deep into my bones.
Tom had joined a swish new gym nearby. He was meeting one of his old boxing gym pals for a light brunch and then had booked his initial induction session with a personal trainer late morning. Before leaving the house, he’d dressed in the new Gymshark gear he’d ordered online. Slim-fit shorts and a sleeveless tee cut to show off his superb physique. His muscled calves looked like they’d been sculpted from steel, his shoulders wide and sturdy.
I felt uncomfortable about him getting back in touch with someone from his ‘old life’, as we’d started calling it. We were supposed to be making a fresh start together, the last thing he needed were hangers-on from the past dragging him down. But it was impossible to say something to him without sounding like Jill.
I’d felt my stomach catch as I watched him moving around the bedroom, humming to himself, packing his towel and water bottle into his gym bag. I wondered who else might be at the trendy gym. It was probably full of hot young women in their twenties and early thirties with firm, tanned bodies and glossy hair …
‘Can’t wait for this.’ He’d grinned, bending down and kissing my cheek before he left. ‘There’s a juice bar too, want me to bring you one back? The strawberry spirulina looks amazing on their website.’
‘I’m good, thanks,’ I said, forcing some brightness into my voice. ‘Have fun.’
And then he was gone, taking his whirling youthful energy and sparkling enthusiasm with him. I felt tired and flat left lying there in our bedroom. I needed to redirect my thoughts.
