by Nicole Trope
‘Just wait,’ she says. ‘Just wait, Kevin, don’t do anything you’ll regret. Please, she’s just a little girl. Let her go and you can do anything you want to me. I promise, I promise.’
I’ll never tell, Mummy. I promise.
‘You were just a little girl too, Tweet, and look what you did. Did you tell her to leave me? Did you tell her to just get in the car with you and leave me like I meant nothing? Did you tell her to make a deal with him, to give me up forever?’
‘I…’ Rachel lifts her hands again. ‘I didn’t…’ she begins but she cannot make the lie come out. She did tell her mother to leave him. She wanted to leave him. ‘I was… I was a child,’ she stutters.
‘Give me a child of seven,’ Kevin spits, and his hand tightens a little more around Beth’s neck.
Rachel watches her daughter’s eyes bulge, sees the incomprehension of fear and pain etched on her face. She glances at Ben. He is slowly moving closer to Kevin, his fists clenched, his eyes narrowed.
If Ben can get there and hit Kevin, maybe the shock of the blow will force him to let go. She doubts Ben could hurt her brother but they just need a second, just a second, and they can get Beth away from him.
She falls onto her knees. ‘Please, Kevin!’ she cries. ‘Don’t hurt her… You’re hurting her. Please just let her go. I’ll do anything.’
‘There’s nothing you can do now, Tweet. Just like there was nothing I could do when I got home and found you both gone.’
‘Please,’ begs Rachel.
‘Say, “Tweet, tweet,” Little Bird. Tell your chick goodbye now.’
‘No, no,’ Rachel moans. ‘No, please no.’
Kevin’s hand tightens around Beth’s neck. Rachel watches her beloved daughter and then she sees her eyes begin to close as her slender throat is squeezed.
‘Tweet, tweet!’ she cries, a child with no power again, her stomach filled with butterflies, her baby being broken. ‘Tweet, tweet.’
38
Ben
Ben leaps forward, a howl emerging from him, a howl like nothing he has ever heard come out of his own mouth. He feels like he could tear apart the world as he lands a blow on the side of Kevin’s face with such force he feels the bones in his hand crack.
Shocked, Kevin falls sideways and lets go of Beth, who sinks to her knees, coughing and choking, gasping for breath.
In his peripheral vision he sees Rachel dart forward and pick her up.
Ben doesn’t check on his child, is incapable of thinking straight. He feels fury roar through him as he jumps onto Kevin, punching his face over and over despite the hideous pain that ricochets through his hand.
He uses every bit of strength he has, aware that the man he is punching is much bigger than he is. He uses both fists, again and again. He needs to hurt him. He cannot seem to stop.
He is dimly aware of sirens and then the sound of running feet, but he keeps going.
‘Step back now,’ he hears, the voice loud and strong, and he stops to take a breath.
‘Hands in the air!’ Another voice, even louder.
He turns to look around. There are four uniformed police around him. All of them have their guns out, trained on him and Kevin.
He is on top of Kevin, who has his hands up to protect his face. He has no idea how he got to be sitting on top of him.
He catches sight of Rachel, who is holding Beth tightly. Beth is hiccupping and crying. ‘It’s okay,’ he hears Rachel say. Beth is okay. His daughter is alive and Rachel is alive and help is here. He doesn’t have to keep doing this now. They are safe. He can stop. He feels like he has a hangover, his head pounding, his mouth dry, as he struggles to his feet and lifts his hands.
‘Down on the ground,’ one of the constables shouts, and Ben complies, lying down on his front as he has seen criminals do on television. Beth is safe and Rachel is safe. He drops his head onto the black matting of the playground. He is suddenly incredibly tired.
He is dimly aware of Kevin standing up, and he turns his face to look at him.
‘Down on the ground,’ a constable shouts.
But Kevin does not comply. ‘Get back!’ he yells.
Ben lifts his head so he can see him better but he does not move his body.
Kevin pushes a hand into his jacket pocket and it seems as though he may have a weapon.
‘Drop the weapon,’ Ben hears, and he feels his heart rate speed up again. Does Kevin have a gun? What if he tries to use it on Rachel and Beth? He starts to stand up.
‘Stay down,’ a voice barks, and he remains where he is. The police have guns. They definitely have guns.
‘I have a gun,’ says Kevin.
‘I’m going to need you to put that on the ground and raise your hands,’ says one of the constables. His voice is firm and his words come out slowly as though he is controlling himself.
Kevin steps back. Please let him not have a gun, Ben prays. Kevin is outnumbered, trapped, a bear surrounded by hunters. Ben has no idea what he will do now.
‘I’ll kill you all,’ he says. He doesn’t sound panicked or afraid. He sounds resigned as though this is a decision he has made, as though it is something he has planned. And Ben understands that Kevin would do it, that he would kill them all and that he would start with his wife and daughter. He starts to stand up again. He can’t let that happen.
‘Get down.’ But Ben can’t listen to the authoritative voice. He can’t take the chance. If Kevin is going to shoot someone, let it be him.
He stands up, holding his arms high in the air as the police raise their guns.
‘Shoot me first, Kevin!’ he yells.
Kevin focuses on him, his hand beginning to move out of his jacket pocket.
‘Shoot me first!’ he yells again.
39
Rachel
Rachel opens her mouth to scream, ‘No,’ to tell Ben, ‘Stop,’ to tell her husband, ‘Don’t.’ But no words come out as she cradles her sobbing daughter.
Kevin moves his hand and she knows her husband is about to die. The constables lift their weapons. Kevin moves forward, his hand emerging from his jacket pocket.
She closes her eyes and covers her little girl’s eyes with her hand. They cannot see this happen, cannot watch it. She bows her head.
Kevin has no choice now. He is a trapped animal. Rachel feels her throat close. She has never had any sympathy for him, never had any empathy for him, but he was as trapped as she and her mother were. She had not thought so because he was big and because he was violent and strong, but he was still a child, and her mother should have gone back for him or sent for him. They should have done something. Rachel wonders now, through her guilt, at her mother’s ability to simply abandon her son, to leave him at the mercy of the man who was their father. She has always seen Veronica as a victim, as a perfect mother who did what she had to do to save her child – but Veronica had two children, and to save herself and her daughter, she sacrificed one of them. Rachel has no idea what she would have done but she does know, as she holds her daughter tightly, that Veronica made the wrong choice. And she knows, without a doubt, that she was the reason her mother made that choice. It’s her fault. This is all her fault.
‘I needed a mother, Rachel!’ shouts Kevin, and she looks up, sees that he is crying, watches his hand move into the open air. ‘I needed a mother just like you did. I needed a mother,’ he moans.
‘No!’ shouts Ben.
‘Stop!’ screams a constable.
And then there is just noise.
40
Kevin
It doesn’t hurt. It’s a jolt, a smell, a sound, but it doesn’t hurt.
I stumble back, feel my knees sag and then I am on the ground, staring up into the heavens. The moon is a glowing orb and I breathe in the air, feeling the beauty of the sky fill me up. I have never noticed the splendour of a star-filled sky before. I think about Beth, about her little hand. I wouldn’t have hurt her. She was going to share her father. I wouldn’t have hurt he
r. I want to believe that. I need to believe that.
My eyes feel too heavy to keep open.
But I feel at peace.
The sludge is gone. I… I can’t seem to concentrate. The stars are winking at me and I can hear the whistling wind.
The sludge is gone. I don’t know why I can feel this, but I can.
My mother’s face comes to me, a rare smile on it, her eyes lighting up at the sight of me. I can’t remember when that stopped, when her eyes stopped lighting up at the sight of me. She was beautiful and kind and I loved her. I know that. I still love her and I know that as well.
My eyes fall closed and I blink, struggling to keep them open so that I can hold onto this moment of peace, so that I can be here and just feel the peace.
But they will not stay open. I take a breath and let go. Nothing hurts now. I’m so grateful that it doesn’t hurt.
Finally, finally, it doesn’t hurt.
41
Rachel
Standing in the sun, Rachel unbuttons her coat, allowing the warm rays to touch her skin. It’s cooler in the shade but she can feel the spring weather that will be here soon enough.
‘You can take your coat off if you’re too hot, Beth,’ she says, knowing that she has dressed her daughter in many layers in anticipation of a normal winter’s day, knowing that they would be outside for a while.
‘I’m fine,’ says Beth. She keeps her hands in her pockets and Rachel knows that it’s not because she’s cold but rather because she is holding onto at least five troll dolls she brought with her. ‘Can I take Pinky and the baby and the bride and the boy dolly to visit Nana?’ she asked this morning.
Rachel had begun to shake her head but then she shrugged her shoulders. ‘Sure, just keep them in your pocket so you don’t lose them.’
She had imagined that seeing the dolls, all the dolls she used to own, in her daughter’s hands would trouble her, but she can look at them now as just toys. They come from her past but their meaning has changed. They are the special dolls that her daughter loves, and she is happy to see them loved and played with again. They are no longer a threat or a message, just the dolls she used to adore.
They bring with them a memory of her mother and herself at a different time. It was a terrible time but there were moments of joy. She can look at them now and remember the moments of joy.
Rachel leans down and places the bunch of vividly purple chrysanthemums against the grey granite headstone.
‘What does it say, Mum?’
‘It says, “Veronica Watson. Adored mother of Rachel and Kevin and beloved grandmother to Beth. Your spirit will live on forever.”’
‘That’s a lot of words.’
‘I know, but I wanted to have them there.’
‘I miss Nana,’ says Beth, her voice barely above a whisper.
Rachel crouches down next to her daughter and puts her arms around her. ‘I do too. And it’s okay to miss her because it means you loved her very much.’
‘And it’s okay to cry,’ says Beth solemnly.
‘Yes, it’s okay to cry,’ she says as the tears she is so used to begin to fall again.
‘I’m here, Mum,’ says Beth, hugging her back, hard.
‘I know you are, baby, thank you.’
I miss you more than I ever thought possible, Mum, thinks Rachel.
‘Can we go now?’ asks Beth.
Rachel nods her head and takes her daughter’s hand. She comes by herself at least once a week but Beth wanted to come today to visit her nana. If Beth is not with her, she kneels by her mother’s grave and talks to her, tells her what she’s doing and the changes that are happening in her life. It helps with the grief, she thinks.
Ben has gently suggested a therapist or a group where she could talk to other people who would understand the depth of her sorrow, but she prefers to simply be here at her mother’s graveside, speaking as though Veronica were listening. She knows her grief will change with time, will become more manageable.
As she and Beth make their way to the car, she looks around the cemetery with its wide expanse of green lawn and rows and rows of graves, some of which have people standing by, speaking to a lost loved one as she does. She is not unique in her pain, and this thought helps her on days that are more difficult than others.
She has not been to visit her father’s grave in Blackheath, where he was buried with no ceremony and only a priest for company.
He died a terrible, sad death but he chose to live a life where he hurt and tormented those around him.
Kevin committed a heinous crime in causing his death. There is no excuse for what he did but perhaps there is some way to explain it, to understand it.
At seven she had wished her father dead. And the only emotion she experienced when she thought it was him leaving the dolls for her was terror. She had loved him as well – she is sure of that – but she knows that love would have withered as he began to hurt her as he did his wife and son. He was the monster in the house. He was always the monster in the house.
She is glad that the monster is finally gone.
‘Open the car, Mum,’ says Beth, and Rachel obediently clicks her remote control and then watches as Beth climbs into the car and secures her seat belt.
‘So,’ she says, as they pull out of the cemetery parking lot, ‘what do you want to do with the rest of the day? It’s your last day of school holidays so we can do anything you like.’
‘Yay, can we get a milkshake and then go to the park?’
‘Sure,’ agrees Rachel. She and Ben are watching Beth closely for signs of trauma. She has spoken with a therapist a few times but seems to be coping with everything that happened. Rachel imagined the park would become a scary place for Beth but instead she seems to need to go there often, almost as though she is reminding herself each time that she is safe, that they are all safe.
‘And then when we get home, I’m going to draw a picture to send to him.’
‘To who?’
‘To Uncle Kevin, Mum, of course,’ she says and she laughs.
‘Of course,’ says Rachel, marvelling at how her daughter sometimes seems to know what she’s thinking about. ‘Of course.’
Epilogue
Dear Kevin,
Hello from what feels like the noisiest place on earth.
The houses on either side of us are about halfway through now, and I keep hoping that things will get a little quieter, but so far, no luck. I know I complain in each letter but I don’t mind, not really. We’ve met both families now and they both have children Beth’s age. There is an eight-year-old boy on one side and an eight-year-old girl on the other. Beth can’t wait for both children to move in and is already campaigning to be allowed to walk to the park with them without adult supervision. I’m not sure about that but we’ll see. I’ve enclosed a picture that Beth drew of her birthday party last week. I had twenty little girls over to do crafts and I’m still finding beads and sequins everywhere. They all had a lovely time.
Ben is already in line for a promotion at work so he’s putting in some long hours, but he doesn’t seem to mind because he’s so happy there. Everyone is younger than him so he’s the old man of the marketing department, but they seem to value his experience and opinion. I am working part-time at Beth’s school, just substituting for teachers who are away sick when they need me, and I’m happy to keep doing that until the baby comes. He’s really moving around now, keeping me up at night sometimes and just generally making it known that he’s on the way.
I hope all is well with you and you’re enjoying getting your engineering degree. I promise you won’t regret it. I’m sending along a money order for you to top up your trust account. I’ll send more next month.
Mum’s flat sold last month. I am putting half the money into an account for you to have when you are released. I will do the same with the house you and Dad were living in.
When I was cleaning out the last of her things, I found a box of some stuff she must have had whe
n we were babies. Our hospital bracelets are in there as well as some pictures and the first Babygros we must have worn. Blue for you and pink for me.
There was also a letter. A letter from her to you. I haven’t opened it. I don’t know what it says, but I hope it goes some way to explaining why she did what she did. I hope it tells you that she loved you because I know she did.
I know I say it in each letter, but I’m saying it again – I’m sorry. We should have waited for you or come back for you. I should have encouraged her to contact you because I know she wanted to. I know she did.
I’m sorry. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I am truly so sorry.
Thinking of you.
Love,
Rachel
Dear Kevin,
Happy birthday. Today you are thirty-four years old. Today is also the day I started chemotherapy.
It’s not like I thought it would be. I am in a room with about ten other people and we are all hooked up to whatever cocktail they believe will kill our particular cancer.
The other patients have all been here before, I can see. They are familiar with the nurses, and the women are wearing scarves on their heads or wigs. There is only one man and he’s completely bald but he’s wearing a cap. Everyone nodded and smiled as I sat down and I’m sure I will get to know them well over the coming weeks.
There is a smell in here, a chemical smell from the drugs, a slight smell of sweat from those who are struggling with the medication, and it all mixes with the flower-fresh smell of the nurses. I’ll get used to it, I’m sure.
Rachel would be here if she could but she has just given birth to a little girl, a beautiful little girl. Her name is Bethany but I’m sure she will only ever be called Beth. She has silky brown hair and green eyes like her mother does, like I do.
