Behind

by Nicole Trope

She stops at a traffic light and takes a deep breath. She’s exhausted. Last night, once the police had gone and Ben was breathing steadily in sleep, she crept into the bathroom and rummaged around in the bottom of the hamper where she had pushed the doll under the dirty laundry. She pulled it out and looked at it carefully, making sure she recognised it as one of hers. She was unable to prevent a small smile as she stared down at its big eyes and funny nose, the rainbow hair that stuck straight up. But her smile disappeared quickly as fear made her tremble. She held the doll tightly, the little plastic hands digging into her palm. She had named this one Riley Rainbow for its hair. She can remember combing it with a tiny brush her mother bought for her. ‘Riley Rainbow,’ she whispered and then she stuffed it back down to the bottom of the hamper so she could throw it out in the morning.

  This morning she’d looked at the suitcases of clothes that still needed to be unpacked and fought the urge to grab them and just run because she knew how to run. She was very good at running.

  She pulls up to the school where Beth will be rushing out to greet her in a moment. A typical day, a typical task and something she has long taken for granted. She wonders how much longer she will be able to do this. He obviously means to do her harm, means to harm her family even if he is older and weaker. His strength lies in his ability to manipulate and control. Age doesn’t take that away and he would still be a big man, despite how many years have rolled by. She knows that on nights when the terror of him finding them kept her awake as a child she would fantasise about him being in prison, would imagine that he had taken his violence outside to the world and found himself punished for it.

  The urge to run overwhelms her. Only running kept them safe. She will need money for that. Just in case.

  She thinks about telling Ben, about explaining. Because he has found her. She is no longer safe and there is no reason to keep the secret anymore.

  I’ll never tell, I promise.

  What will Ben think of her, of all the lies she has told? What will he think of her mother? And how could she explain it to him so that he would understand? Only she knows why the little doll is a threat. She can almost imagine Ben and the police laughing at her.

  She simply needs to know that she can run if she has to. The thought of leaving Ben, of leaving everything, forces more tears from her eyes. Even as she already mourns her mother, she knows that she is lucky, that she is loved and safe with Ben. How on earth could she leave him, leave her life? How could she go back to the terrible rental apartments, always looking over her shoulder, and how could she do that to their baby girl? Maybe she could tell Ben and they could all leave together? But he would never agree to that. He would want to stay and sort things out. He would not know how afraid he should be. He wouldn’t understand.

  She was seven.

  Beth is seven.

  She needs to get ready, like her mother was always ready. Always ready to run, always ready to leave, always afraid of being found.

  Climbing out of the car and walking to the school gate, she hears the final bell ring for the end of the school day. She forces a smile onto her face so that Beth will only see a happy mother, so that everyone at the school gate will see that Beth has a happy mother. The movement makes her cheeks hurt, as though she hasn’t smiled in a long time, but she holds it as she looks for Beth and nods at other mothers waiting for their children. Even though it’s only three thirty, the sun is already low in the sky and the air is growing cooler. It will be dark by five and once more she will be alone in the house with Beth. Will he be back tonight?

  She spots her daughter and waves. ‘Mummy!’ shouts her daughter, her face lighting up as she sees her mother. An ordinary winter’s day but Rachel knows that nothing is ordinary anymore.

  10

  Ben

  Before he switches off his computer, Ben takes a quick look at their bank account to reassure himself that the rental bond has been returned and that there is enough money to cover the mortgage, which is coming out in the morning. He hears some laughter from the corridor. One of his colleagues, Angela, pops her head in. ‘We’re going for a drink, want to come?’

  ‘Thanks, but I want to get back in time to put Beth to bed and read her a story.’ Outside, the night has descended and the cold wind has picked up. It’s only six o’clock but it feels much later. He can’t wait for summer to return so that he can get home when it’s still light. It feels like he’s living then, not just commuting into the office as the sun rises and returning long after it sets. In the office the temperature and the light are always the same but outside the lone tree on the pavement sixteen floors down bends as it is assaulted by the winter wind.

  Two days after her desperate phone call to him, Rachel is still on edge. The alarm system was fitted yesterday after Ben explained his fear for his family to the woman at the company responsible for the installation. ‘You poor dear,’ she had said sympathetically. ‘I’ll move some things around and get Mark to come over at the end of today.’

  Last night he had arrived home to find Mark still finishing up the installation.

  ‘Thanks so much for doing this, mate,’ he said.

  ‘No worries, I understand how much you need it. It’s really quiet out here at the moment. I have a friend who’s going to start building next month and he told me no one was living here yet.’

  ‘Yeah, well, our builders were really quick.’

  Mark nodded as he placed the last sensor above the kitchen door. ‘The latch that closes the sliding door that leads to the garden was a little loose but I tightened it up for you.’

  ‘That’s good of you, thanks.’

  So now they have an alarm and Rachel has a remote with a panic button she can press if she needs to. He assumed it would make her feel secure but she’s still jittery. It’s not just because of what’s going on with her mother – it’s something more, he’s sure. Last night, after Mark had left, he had stood behind her in the kitchen after he had come down from his shower. She was talking to herself, whispering what he assumed was a list of things to do, and he had listened, trying to figure out what she was saying. Then she turned around and saw him, dropping the bowl of salad she was carrying. ‘Why did you sneak up on me?’ she yelled. He was too shocked to respond. Rachel never yells.

  He got down on his hands and knees to help her pick up the spilled vegetables. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  ‘It’s okay, it’s not your fault, it’s me, I’m just… well, you know.’ She waved a hand in the air to indicate everything and anything. He didn’t know and he wanted to know, would have liked her to talk about how she was feeling about her mother and the break-in, which wasn’t really a break-in, but she didn’t seem to want to discuss anything other than Beth and school and work – the safe subjects. She is only home for a snatched hour or two at the moment, spending most of her time with her mother.

  Every now and again Ben finds himself having a terrible thought about Veronica, a sort of wish that it would end quickly now, that her life wouldn’t keep lingering on, torturing both her and her family. The hospice is a shocking place to visit. A beautiful building filled with the dying. He should go more often than he does but he can’t seem to force himself over there. He doesn’t even want to contemplate what it will be like for him when it’s one of his own parents slowly wasting away. He sighs and rubs his eyes, chasing away the morbid thoughts that make him feel like an awful person.

  He realises Angela is still in his office doorway, waiting for his attention. ‘You’re such a good dad.’ She smiles and he feels like she’s making fun of him. Her frosted pink lipstick has been freshly applied, shimmering in the office lights. Ben flushes. Angela seems to enjoy flirting with him, despite his lack of response. He knows that she’s slept with more than one person in the office and he also knows that should he ever give in to her invitation, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

  ‘See you tomorrow,’ she says when he doesn’t say anything else.

  ‘Yea
h, have a good night.’

  Once she’s left the room, he looks over the bank account, noting that the electricity bill has been paid today and that Rachel has withdrawn $300. She must have bought something new for the house. They have been discussing the need for some prints for all the empty wall space. Why else would she need so much cash? He knows it wasn’t for groceries because she used her card for those yesterday. He sighs. He doesn’t want to question her on the money, especially not now when she is so stressed, so on edge about the move and so heartbroken about her mother.

  Veronica and Rachel have always been so incredibly close, just the two of them against the world. She introduced them after they’d only had a few dates. Ben hadn’t ever met the family of a girlfriend so early into a relationship but he knew things were different with Rachel. He felt like they had just clicked and as though they had been together for much longer. He was nervous about meeting Veronica but could see how much Rachel wanted him to.

  They had gone to a burger restaurant for their first date. It was a favourite restaurant of his and he knew that between the music and the atmosphere, if they didn’t have much to say to each other they could still muddle through. As it turned out they had barely stopped talking long enough to eat and had eventually asked their waiter to pack up the cold burgers and fries to take home. He had driven them to the beach and they had walked along the water’s edge with their shoes off and jeans rolled up, enjoying the last dash of summer in the air. The inky black sky had been cloudless and studded with stars, and the sea spray had covered them lightly, cooling them down. They had talked and talked. About everything from their favourite colours to countries they wanted to travel to and what their dreams for their future lives were. They had reminisced about television shows and books they had both loved as kids. She had made him laugh as she poked gentle fun at Lou’s intolerance of other students in their course who didn’t do the readings before class. It’s been a long time since she made him laugh, since they made each other laugh really. Things have become so complicated and so difficult, it’s like the people they were on the beach that night have completely disappeared.

  He had felt, after that first night, as though he knew everything about her and only later had he realised that real details, the deeper details, about her life had not really been shared. He assumed they would get there.

  When he met Veronica for the first time, Rachel buzzed him into her building and he found himself standing in an entrance hall that showed its age. It was a small, red-brick building on the outskirts of the city with six apartments, a concrete surround and only a few spindly trees in some planter boxes. Inside, Ben had looked around as he searched for the staircase that would lead him up to Rachel’s apartment, noticing the cracks running down the walls and the strange musty smell of an old carpet. He had thought about his own family home where he and Lou had their own bathrooms and living areas, almost like two small flats inside the grand house surrounded by an emerald-green lawn and large evergreen trees. ‘So you’ll stay home a bit longer,’ his mother had told them, not wanting to let them go.

  ‘I want you to meet my mum,’ Rachel said excitedly when she opened the door, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Sure, yeah, of course,’ he said as he tucked his shirt in, a schoolboy about to be marched into the principal’s office.

  He could see the flat was in need of a coat of paint, and it was comfortably messy with books piled on every surface and an overstuffed sofa covered in colourful blankets.

  Inside, her mother was seated on the sofa but stood up as soon as she saw him, and Ben found himself looking at Rachel twenty or thirty years from now. The same fine brown hair, although hers was streaked with blonde highlights, and the same grey-green eyes, with only a few lines around them, and a thin scar on her cheek to distinguish the two.

  ‘Hello, Ben,’ she said, her voice soft and deep like Rachel’s. ‘Rachel has told me so much about you, and of course I know all about Lou as well. It’s wonderful that she’s met such lovely people to spend time with.’

  ‘Hi, um, thanks, yeah, Lou is great… She introduced me to Rachel, so… yeah.’ He was surprised to find himself a little lost for words. Veronica’s stare was intense, and he felt that she could see how nervous he was. He had a moment of panic at the idea that Veronica wouldn’t like him, which he knew would be a deal-breaker for her daughter. After just three dates he already knew how close they were, and he was desperate to make a good impression. He felt like an awkward boy as he held out his hand to her. ‘I’m Ben,’ he said, forgetting that Rachel had already told her mother his name.

  ‘I’m Veronica,’ she said shaking his hand. Then she laughed and her daughter laughed along with her and Ben could feel their bond, hanging thick in the air as though it was something that could be touched because it was so strong. Lou and his mother were close but there didn’t seem to be the same intensity there was with these two. He assumed that it was because they had been alone for so long, Rachel’s father having succumbed to cancer when she was just a child.

  Now he knows that their love for each other sustained them through that ordeal. Before Veronica got sick, they would speak at least twice a day and have lunch together whenever they got the chance. After she was diagnosed, Rachel had, for a time, seemed to be trying to squeeze in a lifetime with her mother. Even up until recently they shopped together and read the same books at the same time so they could compare notes, and sometimes they seemed to communicate without actually saying anything. ‘I was thinking…’ Veronica would say, and Rachel would reply, ‘Yes, I think so too.’

  ‘What?’ Ben would ask, confused. ‘What are you two talking about?’ eliciting gentle laughter from both of them. He hopes that when Beth grows up, she and Rachel will be as close.

  Ben turns off the computer. How cruel it is that Rachel lost her father to cancer and is now losing her mother to the same awful disease. He thinks again about how much of the unpacking he will get done this weekend so she doesn’t have to worry about it. He decides he will also take Beth to the park, so she can have some fun. He knows he cannot understand the depth of Rachel’s grief right now but the least he can do is take care of the things that he can manage.

  He lets his mind drift as he makes his way through the rush hour traffic, thinking about how small and thin Veronica is now, how fragile she looks, as though a single touch might break her. It is soul-destroying to watch. He’s glad that Rachel has stopped taking Beth to see her grandmother. It would be too much for the little girl to see her so altered.

  He is relieved to get home, to find his wife and his daughter in the kitchen laughing over some silly joke.

  ‘Good day?’ asks Rachel.

  ‘More of the same. We’re not selling enough units – how can we sell more units? If we don’t sell more units, jobs will have to go.’

  Rachel concentrates on turning the lamb chops she is frying. ‘Are you worried?’ she asks and he wants to tell her that he’s more than worried, that he thinks they’ve bitten off more than they can chew with the house and that he spends more time fretting over losing his job than actually doing it.

  ‘Nah,’ he smiles at her, ‘not worried at all,’ he says, and he is cheered by the smile she returns. Her trust in him, her faith in him, makes him feel ten feet tall most days. But sometimes, like now, he wishes he could hand some of the burden over to her, that he could tell her what’s really going on at work instead of keeping things from her because she is already dealing with so much. He squashes the thought down and turns to his daughter, who is a little carbon copy of her mother.

  ‘Now how was your day – did you make important year-one decisions?’ he asks Beth as he sits down.

  ‘I decided to go across the monkey bars three times at lunch even though my hands got freezing,’ she says. ‘Charlotte brought her Barbie doll to school and Mrs. Weiner said that “the classroom is not a place for toys”.’

  Ben laughs at her imitation of her teacher’s voice
.

  ‘Oh,’ he suddenly remembers, and he gets up again to grab his briefcase, ‘look what I found in my car the other day. You must have dropped it.’ He digs inside the case and finds the troll doll.

  Beth takes it from him. ‘It’s not mine,’ she says. ‘Can I have it?’

  ‘Can you have what?’ asks Rachel as she places their plates in front of them.

  ‘This, look, it’s cute and kind of ugly beautiful, it’s a troll doll, you remember we saw the movie, Mum? Charlotte has some troll dolls. We played with them when I went to her house that one time.’

  Rachel’s face loses its colour. She falls into a chair with her hand on her heart.

  ‘Rach? What’s wrong, you okay?’

  ‘Oh yes, yes… I just need to eat,’ she says. ‘Where did you find that thing?’ He watches her hands move as she cuts up Beth’s lamb for her. She has lost too much weight in the last few weeks, as though she is wasting away with her mother.

  ‘It was on the floor of my car. It must be yours, Beth, unless there is another little girl who calls me Daddy.’

  ‘Silly Daddy, I’m the only little girl who calls you Daddy,’ she says and she giggles. ‘I love my dolly and I’m going to name her… Pinky, because of her pink hair. See, Mum, see Pinky?’

  Rachel nods her head but she doesn’t look at the doll, instead looking down at her plate, where she is cutting her lamb into smaller and smaller pieces.

  ‘That’s a great name,’ says Ben, conscious of Beth’s smile disappearing. ‘Mum’s just really hungry now and so am I. Come on, eat up, and then you can play with Pinky.’

  ‘Put it down and eat, Beth,’ Rachel says, sounding as though she is speaking through tears.

  Beth looks down at her plate. ‘I love you, Pinky,’ she whispers to the little doll, who is standing on the table gazing at her with giant bulbous eyes.

  ‘I said eat, Beth,’ Rachel snaps, ‘and put that stupid thing away.’