by Lauren North
ES: Did they?
TC: They didn’t say as much, not at first anyway. Ian wanted to talk to me privately, so I left Shelley in charge of Jamie. She didn’t watch him properly and he wandered off to the second floor to look at a telescope. I panicked. I guess I might have overreacted, but Jamie is everything to me. Shelley knew that. She should’ve stayed with him. After I’d found Jamie, we came back downstairs, and Shelley and Ian were arguing.
ES: About what?
TC: I don’t know, but it definitely felt like they knew each other. They stopped the second they saw me. I’m sure it’s all connected. Ian and the money and Shelley and Jamie, Mark and the threats. It’s all connected somehow. If I could just get my notebook. What has Ian said?
ES: Let’s stop here for now. Your mother will be here in a minute.
TC: My mum? Why?
ES: You were stabbed, Tess. The hospital found her contact details and phoned her. She’s on her way right now.
TC: Oh. I wish you hadn’t.
ES: Why?
TC: (Shakes head)
ES: I have your notebook. I’ll bring it to you.
TC: Thank you.
CHAPTER 57
IAN
After the time I found Tess in the rain, I didn’t actually see her again until the shopping center. Tess stopped taking my calls, which I bet was Shelley’s idea. So I went to see her last week. She wasn’t home, or at least, she didn’t answer the door. I heard her phone ring and a message from Shelley saying that they were going into town on the Saturday. So I went along to see if I could find them. I’ve made mistakes, I’m not denying it. But when I went to find her in Ipswich, it was so I could make things right.
What happened in Debenhams was all the proof you need that Shelley was in way over her head. I needed to step in, and I did. But I tell you one thing—I had no idea it was Jamie’s birthday until I turned up at the house.
SHELLEY
There wasn’t time to stop and think about what I was doing. My judgment was clouded, I know that now. I let my own personal problems and the connection I felt to Jamie get in the way. I just kept thinking of the unfairness of it all. I’d lost Dylan, and Tess still had Jamie. It wasn’t fair.
The shopping trip was awful. That’s when I knew I had to do something. Things got out of hand, and that was my fault. I never should’ve invited Mel and her daughter, Indra, along. I think in the back of my mind I wanted someone else there to keep an eye on Tess. I didn’t trust my judgment around her. I have no idea how Ian knew we would be in Debenhams, but he couldn’t have chosen a worse time to show up. When Tess flipped out about losing Jamie, Ian was shouting at me that it was my fault, and maybe it was. I should never have told Ian to meet me at Tess’s the next day. I should’ve gone alone. If only I’d gone alone, maybe none of this would have happened. I’m so sorry.
CHAPTER 58
Sunday, April 8
JAMIE’S BIRTHDAY
Denise calls first thing while I’m wobbling on one of the kitchen chairs, trying to hook up the “happy birthday” bunting across the cupboards.
I jump down and snatch up my mobile.
Jamie’s presents are piled on the table, wrapped in stupidly expensive Star Wars paper. I have a few extra gifts in the car, along with the helium balloon. I’m saving them for later when we have cake.
Before I answer the phone I listen for any sound that Jamie is awake yet, but all I hear are radiators clanging.
“Hi,” I say, pressing the phone to my ear.
“Hi, Tess. I’m so sorry it’s taken me a few days to get back to you.”
“I’ve been phoning you,” I say. “Every day, in fact. What’s going on?” I ask, stepping to the window and staring at the driveway. “What couldn’t you talk about the other night?”
“I’m so sorry about that. It threw me when you called out of the blue. Hearing from you really upset me and brought the crash flooding back. I’ve already had so much time off work. I haven’t been sleeping. I was just starting to feel OK when you called, and I panicked. I didn’t want to think about it anymore. I know that’s not fair, and I’m sorry.”
It isn’t fair. Denise’s grief is nothing compared to mine. I want to shout at her for being so selfish, but if I do that then she’ll probably hang up and I’ll never have the answers I need.
“It’s OK,” I lie. “So do you know what Mark was working on? I know he had a secret project but that’s it.”
Denise sighs, her breath rattling in the phone. “Mark and two of the programmers were setting up their own company. They wanted to go it alone. They asked me to come with them and run the office, which is how I know about it.”
“Oh.” Something sinks inside me. I sit on the chair I was balancing on a moment ago. This isn’t what I was expecting to hear. “So why all the secrecy?”
“It has to be secret so the company won’t find out.”
“Why not?”
“They’ll fire us. They’ll think we’re stealing clients, which actually we are.”
“Did you need money to start the business? A hundred grand?” I ask.
“No,” Denise replies. “It is still in the planning stages, but the up-front costs were minimal. Peter Yang and Toby Gordon are the developers. They were planning to work from their homes to start with, and Mark was going to travel to clients. It was just a website they needed and some marketing, and they were planning to put that together themselves.”
“I didn’t know anything about it,” I mumble, feeling embarrassed that you shared this secret with your PA but not with me, your wife.
“He didn’t want you to worry,” Denise says, her words suddenly rushed. “Honestly, Tess, he felt really bad. He told us all how he was planning to tell you after the trip to Frankfurt. He just wanted one more client on board to be sure it was all going to work.”
“Oh. Thank you,” I say, and I mean it too. I hate that you didn’t tell me things, Mark, but I think maybe I get it. You were always trying to look out for me and stop me from worrying. You hated it when I worried, like it was your fault, your personal challenge to stop me. I should’ve told you all along that’s impossible. I’m a worrier; I’ll always worry. Keeping things from me wasn’t the answer.
“Was there anything else?” Denise asks.
“Could Mark have taken on any extra work by himself?” I think of the rasping laugh of the man on the phone and the thing he wants back. “Some kind of programming job or anything like that?”
“I don’t think so,” Denise says. “I mean, it’s possible, but I’m sure he would’ve told us. Peter is the software king. Mark hasn’t been in the development side of things for years. Most of the technology has moved on, so it would’ve been a steep learning curve for Mark to jump back into programming.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t thought of that.
“They’re still calling it CYG Systems. Clarke, Yang, Gordon. We all miss Mark so much.”
“Me too,” I say.
“I should probably go,” Denise says. “There’s a management meeting this—”
“Wait, Denise. There’s something else. You asked me if anyone was calling the house. Why did you ask me that?”
“Oh. Yes, I got a call from a weird guy. He was fishing around, calling the team and asking about Mark and you and Jamie.”
It’s him. The vile man with his threats. It has to be.
“I thought he might be a journalist at first,” Denise continues. “I didn’t want him harassing you. But then he said he was from the airline and got really upset. I’m sure he told me his name. It was . . .” Her voice trails off, but I know exactly who she means.
“Richard.” I sigh.
“Yes,” Denise says. “Sorry, has he been in touch? I should’ve just told you about him when I asked, but I thought he might’ve given up.”
“It’s OK. I’d better go. It’s Jamie’s birthday today.” I hang up before Denise can reply.
My mind is whirring. You were setting up a new business. That was the secret project you didn’t tell me about. More answers, but not the ones I was looking for.
I’m about to get my notebook when Jamie slinks into the kitchen in his pjs.
“Happy birthday!” I shout. My voice shakes but I paste a grin on my face and push the questions away. I must focus on Jamie today.
Jamie smiles and slides into the chair, eyeing his presents, then looks up as I launch into your song. All four verses . . . “squashed tomatoes and stew.” I dance around the kitchen, hopping from foot to foot. Jamie laughs at my silliness and so do I. It’s all wrong without you, but I don’t stop.
CHAPTER 59
After breakfast when the presents were all opened and wrapping paper littered the floor, Jamie ran up to get dressed before going out to play in the tree house like it was any other day.
I stayed in the garden too. Partly to be near to him and partly because the house felt darker today, emptier. Outside the sun was high in the sky and dandelion yellow. Every so often white fluffy clouds would swallow the sun, and the air would cool a notch.
“Are you sure you don’t want to do something special today?” I shouted up at one point, running a hand over the rope ladder and wishing he’d invite me into his world. “It’s not too late.”
“I’m fine” were the words that drifted back.
I leaned against the rough bark and listened for a while to Jamie’s nonsense chatter and the sound of his little metal cars being driven across the wood.
“Is Shelley coming?” he asked later when it was almost time to go in, almost time for cake and a tea of crisps and jam sandwiches.
“Not today, baby.”
Shelley called last night, over and over until I couldn’t escape the buzz of my mobile and the trilling of the home phone. I blocked her number and unplugged the landline. I should’ve done it weeks ago. I’m no longer pacing the house waiting to hear it ring.
I don’t know who is threatening us or what they want, but one thing I am sure of is that Shelley wants Jamie.
* * *
—
I flick the radio on the moment I step through the side door and into the kitchen. Every few minutes the signal crackles but the murmur of voices and music fills the kitchen with life. I shut the door into the hall as if the radio voices are ghosts that will float away into the bowels of the house and we’ll be left with the stillness again.
Within minutes Jamie and I have eaten our way through a pack of chocolate chip cookies and buried the kitchen table under a dozen clear plastic bags of gray Legos in every shape and size imaginable. The instructions—a two-hundred-page manual—are open in front of us on page one. Jamie’s head is bent in concentration and his tongue is sticking out, wiggling the tooth back and forth like a pendulum.
He’s put his new Batman pajamas on over his clothes. They’re too big and his hands keep disappearing inside the sleeves every time he reaches for the next Lego piece.
“Ah.” I jump up, my chair scraping the tiles. “I left something in the car. You carry on. Ten more minutes and we’ll have cake.” I smile and it doesn’t feel fake like it did this morning.
A pang of pure love digs into my chest. “I love you, Jamie.”
I grab the car key and throw open the side door, ready to dash out in my slippers and retrieve the helium balloon. The sky above the fields is the color of pink cotton candy, and if it wasn’t for Shelley standing right in front of me, with her hand lifted ready to knock, I would’ve beckoned Jamie over to see it.
“Hi. Your phone isn’t working,” she says on the doorstep, peering over my shoulder to look at Jamie.
“I unplugged it. Too many call centers,” I lie.
“Your mobile isn’t working either.” Shelley narrows her eyes at me. There is no dancing joy or laughing grin tonight. Her jaw is tight, her lips a straight line.
I shrug.
“You ran off yesterday in such a hurry, and I wanted to make sure—”
“I’m fine. It’s just . . . it’s Jamie’s birthday today . . .” My voice trails off and I wedge my body into the gap in the door, closing off her view of the kitchen and the cake and the celebration we’re trying to have.
There’s a part of me that wants to scream at her to leave, to slam the door and bolt it tight. Another part of me wants to tell her I know everything. I want to tell her to give up, because I’ll never let her take Jamie away from me. Not ever.
Except I can’t find the words. The Shelley I see in the pages of my notebook, the one I fear in the small hours of the night when I can’t sleep, the one who drugs me with sleeping pills and sings lullabies to Jamie, the one I blocked from my phone and vowed never to speak to again, is somehow disconnected from the woman on my doorstep with her bleach-blond hair, the baby blue V-neck jumper, and the girl-next-door face.
Standing before me is my friend who pulled me back from the ledge of my grief, who came to my and Jamie’s rescue when no one else was there. I don’t know how I would’ve survived without her friendship. This Shelley saved me, and I don’t want to slam the door in her face. I want to burst into tears and throw myself into her arms.
There’s a scraping of chair legs on the tiles behind me, and I don’t need to turn around to know Jamie is grinning ear to ear, desperate to show Shelley his new gifts and share his birthday celebrations with her.
So I ignore the siren screeching in my ears, I ignore the dread twisting knots in my stomach, and I step back, opening the door to let her in. Not just for Jamie and the happy dance of his feet thudding softly on the kitchen floor, but for me too. Shelley’s energy will make it a real celebration. We can light the candles on his cake and sing “Happy Birthday” and it won’t be fake, it won’t be false cheer we’ll feel.
“I just have to get something from my boot,” I say, trying to shuffle past her.
Relief relaxes the muscles in her face and she smiles a little. “I’ll get it. You’re not wearing any shoes.” She plucks the key from my hand and turns on her heel before I can stop her.
When Shelley returns, her face is drained of color and pure white against the colors of the sky. The balloon is blustering behind her, desperate to be set free, and she looks so distracted that for a moment I think it will fly out of her hands and be lost to the pink sunset.
Then I see the shadow and hear the extra crunch of footsteps on the driveway. Shelley is not alone. Ian is walking a pace behind her, his face dark and scowling. He’s wearing a shirt with no tie and black jeans. There is a day’s beard growth on his face. It’s the first time I’ve seen him look even a little ruffled.
I step back, a shiver racing over my body. “What do you want?” I stammer.
“May I come in for a minute, Tess?” Ian asks.
I shake my head but he’s already at the porch and bundling through the door with Shelley by his side. He strides into the kitchen, leaving Shelley in the doorway. Her eyes are wide. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
I throw a glance behind me. Jamie has picked up one of his presents from this morning—the driving game for his PlayStation—and is studying the back cover, avoiding Ian’s gaze and the sudden addition of his uncle at his birthday.
Ian is standing by the sink with his arms folded. He seems to be staring wide-eyed at the piles of Legos on the kitchen table as if hypnotized by them.
“You’re working together, aren’t you?” I say to Shelley, nodding to Ian. “You’re trying to scare me into giving you Mark’s life insurance, and take Jamie away from me.”
“How about we all take a seat and talk,” Ian says. He raises his eyebrows at Shelley, sending her a signal I can’t decipher.
I falter and Shelley steps into the kitchen, knocking the balloon against me as she pass
es.
“Look what I got,” Jamie singsongs to Shelley. “Bet you won’t be able to win at this one.”
Shelley doesn’t reply, but lets go of the balloon. The weight at the end of the ribbon drops to the floor with a clatter. The 8 bobs up and down for a moment, its top scraping against one of the dark beams and making Jamie laugh.
“Mum, can I set my new game up?” Jamie asks, his voice loud with excitement. For once Jamie is too distracted by his gifts to notice the mood, the tension crackling in the air, too happy to see Shelley to ask why Ian is here. He hasn’t even noticed Shelley’s silence.
I nod. “Of course. Then we’ll do the cake.” Just as soon as I’ve gotten rid of Ian and Shelley.
It’s only after Jamie has skipped out of the room that I see Shelley is crying. Two perfect streams of tears leaking from her eyes. It’s the first time I’ve seen her properly cry and it makes me want to cry too. I look away.
I turn to Ian and raise my chin a little before I speak. “I don’t know why you’ve come, Ian, but you’re not welcome here. I have found no proof that you loaned Mark any money. I think you’re lying to me because you want to get your hands on some, maybe all, of Mark’s life insurance. You keep saying that you’re trying to help me, but that’s not true, is it? You’re trying to trick me. Both of you are.”
I stare between them and feel the walls pushing closer. Their faces are both drawn tight. Have I caught them out at last?
“Tess—” Ian begins.
I hold up my hand and cut him off. “You came into the house when I was out, didn’t you?”
Ian says nothing and I know I’m right.
