by Karen Clarke
‘Well, I’m asking now.’
I ended the call and drove back to my parents’, not really thinking about what I was going to say to Jamie, only that I needed to look him in the face. Surely then I’d know if … if what? If he really did hate me enough to wish me dead?
Pulling up outside the house, I could see him in the garage, crouched by Dad’s old mountain bike, one hand on the saddle as he examined the front wheel. For a second, I was overtaken by a powerful memory of Dad teaching us to cycle in the lane at the side of the house, one hand on the back of each bike as we wobbled precariously, shrieking with fright and excitement. Pushing the image away, I got out of the car and strode through the gate, fuelled by something hot and dangerous. ‘Can I have a word?’
Jamie’s head whipped up, surprise flashing over his face. Dad mustn’t have mentioned I was coming. He’d have scarpered if he’d known.
My brother straightened with a wary glance, and wiped his oil-grimed hands on his work overalls. ‘What’s up?’
‘Have a guess, Jamie.’
His light brown eyes narrowed. He wasn’t used to me challenging him. I let him get away with his barbs and putdowns because I felt responsible and knew they helped him feel better in some small way. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘You want me dead?’
‘What?’
His incredulous laugh set off a spark of fury and everything I’d kept inside since my birthday bubbled over. ‘Why now? After all this time, Jamie, why now?’ When he didn’t respond, I ploughed on. ‘You have a good life, you have Rosa. Why do you still want to punish me?’ I shot forward and gave him a shove. ‘Do you really hate me that much?’
‘Beth, stop it.’ Dad was there, pulling me back as I lunged at Jamie again, batting at his forearms, which he’d raised to defend himself. ‘What are you doing?’
‘What on earth’s going on?’ Mum appeared, her face stretched with shock. ‘What’s happened?’
I broke from Dad’s clutch. ‘Just tell the truth, Jamie.’
‘About what?’ Dad looked between us, pale beneath his summer tan.
Jamie’s lips had compressed into an angry line. ‘Apparently, Beth thinks I want her dead.’
Mum’s wide-eyed gaze swung from me to Jamie. ‘Do you?’ Seeming to realise it was the wrong thing to say, she slapped her hand to her mouth. ‘Jamie, I—’
‘Don’t bother apologising.’ He curled his lip. ‘You’ll take her side as always.’
‘Come on now.’ Dad patted the air between us. ‘There are no sides. We’re a family, a team, and we shouldn’t be fighting.’
‘You must be joking.’ Jamie’s voice shook a little. ‘A team of three, maybe.’
‘Oh, Jamie, we’ve never made you feel like that.’ Mum sounded on the verge of tears, her fingers laced under her chin. ‘I don’t understand what just happened.’
Seeing my parents’ stricken faces, my anger burned out as fast as it had ignited, leaving shame in its wake. Despite the atmosphere whenever we got together, we hadn’t come close to a confrontation for years. ‘I shouldn’t have come,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘What’s this about?’ Mum’s lips wobbled. ‘What’s going on, Beth?’
‘Yes, what’s going on, Beth?’ Jamie’s voice was as hard as the look he gave me. ‘What is it you think I’ve done?’
Unconsciously, Mum and Dad had moved closer to me, one on either side, as though I needed protecting. Catching Jamie’s look of contempt, I could see that in spite of the front he put on most of the time, his resentment of me was as strong as ever.
‘Forget it,’ I said. ‘It’s not like you’re going to tell the truth, is it?’
‘The truth about what?’ Dad looked bewildered. He was wearing the baggy shorts and sun-faded T-shirt he changed into after work, ready to sit in the garden with a glass of beer, and now I’d turned up and ruined his evening. ‘What is it you think he’s done, Beth?’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ My tone was falsely bright. ‘Obviously my mistake.’
‘Something must have happened.’ Mum’s eyes pleaded with me to deny it.
I couldn’t bear to look at her expression. ‘Just a prank, I expect,’ I said, in the same bracing tone. ‘I’ll get to the bottom of it, don’t worry.’
I cast Jamie one last look as I left, trying to read his face, but his features looked cast in stone. I was no nearer knowing the truth than I had been when I arrived.
*
As soon as I entered the house, I heard running water. My heart jerked. It was a noise that still brought back the sound of the sea that day at Perran Cove.
Shaking off thoughts of my showdown with Jamie, I swiftly checked the kitchen, then took the stairs two at a time, wondering whether I’d left the shower running that morning. It wasn’t like me, but my mind had been otherwise occupied. I stopped on the landing. The sound was coming from the main bathroom. Maybe Vic had come over early and was taking a bath. I hadn’t noticed his car outside, but the parking restrictions meant he often had to leave it round the corner.
‘Vic?’ I nudged the door, already knowing there was no one inside. If he’d fancied an early bath, even if he wasn’t busy all day with patients, he’d have gone to his house, five minutes from the hospital.
‘Hello?’ Hating the timid sound of my voice – had I really yelled at Jamie, less than ten minutes ago? – I shoved the door so hard it bounced off the wall and I had to throw out a hand to stop it slamming in my face. The room was empty, Hayley’s nightdress draped over the little pink footstool she used to clean her teeth at the sink. My gaze moved to the bath. The taps were running slowly, water spilling smoothly over the side, like an infinity pool.
‘Shit!’ I pitched forward, feet slipping through half an inch of water on the black and white tiles. I caught sight of my frantic reflection in the water, and for a terrifying second, imagined someone looming behind me, pressing my head under the water and holding me there until I stopped moving. With a gasp of fright, I plunged my hand in and yanked the plug out, looking away as the water glugged and swirled down the drain.
I sank to my knees, arm dangling over the bath, willing my brain to stop screaming and start thinking rationally. The taps must have been left running, and I hadn’t noticed. Perhaps Vic had started to run a bath before leaving for work, after a hot and sticky night, and changed his mind. Highly unlikely. Hayley would have noticed when she came in to clean her teeth while I was talking to Matt downstairs. Unless she’d turned the tap on. But surely I’d have heard water running at the time?
My mind shied away from the alternative – that someone had been in the house while I was out. Had done it purposely, to scare me. It would explain why water wasn’t gushing through the ceiling downstairs as it would have been if the tap had been running all day. Jamie? It wasn’t as if he had an employer who could vouch for his whereabouts.
Recalling the hard look he’d given me in the garage at our parents’ house, I dropped my forehead onto my arm, wetness seeping through the knees of my trousers. This couldn’t be happening. The front door had been locked so …
My head whipped up. The bathroom window was open. I hadn’t checked before leaving the house. It must have been ajar all night and it was just about feasible that somebody could have climbed up the drainpipe outside and levered themselves through. There was no sign anything had been disturbed, but that didn’t mean anything.
Springing into action, I grabbed some towels and threw them down to soak up the worst of the water, then kicked off my soggy sneakers and ran round the house, scanning each room. As far as I could tell, everything was as it should be.
Breathless, I sank on the bottom stair and pushed my hands through my hair, tugging the roots. It was a warning; it had to be.
‘Mummy!’
I nearly screamed when Hayley hurled herself at me and threw her arms around my neck. I’d left the front door wide open and the smell of her, mingled with sunshine and ice-cre
am dispelled my fear.
‘Hey, you.’ I hugged her tightly, looking up at Matt. ‘I thought you were dropping her at Pam’s.’
He shrugged. ‘I wanted to spend some more time with her.’
‘Aren’t you working?’ It was a silly question. Matt was freelance and set his own hours.
‘I’ve just finished a project,’ he said. ‘I’m having a bit of time off.’
‘I did a swan dance. I’ll show you later, Mummy.’ Hayley let go of me and raced through the house to look for Baxter in Pam’s garden.
‘She loves those classes.’ As Matt hovered on the threshold, watching Hayley go with a nostalgic look, I had a flashback to him in the delivery room while I was in labour. He’d broken the speed limit on the way to the hospital, after my waters broke on the way to the airport to visit his parents in France. Once there, he grew calm, talking me through my rapid contractions, gripping my hand throughout.
He’d joked during my pregnancy that he’d like our baby to arrive walking, talking and potty-trained, but from the moment he held Hayley in his arms, it was obvious he was besotted. ‘You were in my heart before you were born and will be there as long as it’s beating,’ he’d sung softly, his love immediately expanding to include our daughter.
When we’d talked about trying for a baby as soon as we were married, I’d worried about what sort of mother I’d be, scared I wasn’t up to the task. I cried with happiness and relief when I held her to my breast, marvelling at her shell-like fingernails and delicate nose while we tried to work out who she most resembled; my chin, Matt’s hair and eyes – definitely her father’s daughter, but mine too.
We’d rained down promises: the sort all parents probably make, about keeping her safe, protecting her always and giving her siblings to play with.
Now, it felt as if we were failing her. I’d failed her, pushing Matt away as my feelings of survivor’s guilt gradually resurfaced – what right did I have to be a parent when a man was dead because of me? I’d doubled my efforts when I returned to work, trying to make a difference, while throwing myself into being the perfect mother at home, until there was no energy left for my marriage.
‘Are you OK?’ Matt was studying my hot face. ‘Why are you sitting on the stairs, looking as if the world is about to collapse?’ Because it is. ‘And why are your knees wet?’
Avoiding his stare, I said, ‘What have you been doing all this time?’
‘It’s not that late.’ He looked at the watch that once belonged to his grandfather and had an old-fashioned winding mechanism. ‘I thought we’d get a milkshake on the way home. Dancing’s thirsty work.’
‘A milkshake’s not a proper drink.’ Why was I being such a bitch?
‘Come on, Beth. One every now and then won’t do her any harm.’ He rubbed a hand round his jaw. ‘I seem to remember you being partial to a milkshake, once upon a time.’
Another jagged memory, of us with Emma and the boyfriend she was seeing at the time, in McDonald’s after watching a gig in London, me five months pregnant, choosing a strawberry milkshake because I’d been craving one since my morning sickness had eased. ‘Not for a long time,’ I said.
He glanced down. ‘I like the barefoot look.’
Maybe he was remembering the time he’d painted my toenails with a look of fierce concentration that had made my heart contract. ‘The bathroom’s flooded.’
‘What?’ He glanced past me to the top of the stairs. ‘How come?’
‘Someone left a tap running and the plug in the bath.’ I was being heavy on the sarcasm.
‘Bit careless.’ Matt’s tone was guarded, as though trying not to say the wrong thing, and I suddenly longed for the early days of our relationship when we had no boundaries and could tell each other everything.
‘There’s no real damage,’ I said, in case he was having visions of the ceiling collapsing. ‘I should go and dry the floor.’
There was a squeal of laughter from Hayley in the garden and the sound of Pam’s voice, followed by a bark of excitement from Baxter.
‘Thought any more about getting a dog?’ Matt hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans, seeming reluctant to let me leave. ‘She said Pam knows someone with puppies for sale.’
I felt a zip of anger as I pushed to my feet. ‘I asked Pam not to say anything to get Hayley’s hopes up.’
Matt looked taken aback at my tone. ‘I don’t know if Pam told her directly, maybe she overheard—’
‘Why were you lurking about in the garden last night?’ I cut in. ‘Pam saw you, looking at your phone.’
He lowered his head. ‘I wanted to give you the paint set,’ he said quietly. ‘It felt odd, not being part of your birthday. I was going to knock, but I could see you were having a good time and didn’t want to intrude.’
‘You were spying on me?’
‘Christ, Beth, no!’ He looked at me, annoyance flitting over his face. ‘I wasn’t spying as you so charmingly put it. I thought you wouldn’t want me there, with Vic playing man of the house.’ He paused to let the jibe settle. ‘I considered phoning to say happy birthday but didn’t, and then I left, OK?’
I swallowed to ease the tightness in my throat. ‘So, you didn’t send me a message?’
He looked thrown. ‘Should I have done?’
The fight went out of me. ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Sorry. I’m a bit all over the place at the moment.’
‘Work?’ He used to worry about the emotional pressure that came with my job, before he grew to resent it for seeming more important to me than our family.
‘No, it’s not work.’
‘Being thirty-three?’ Reaching out, he gently flicked my arm. ‘You’re still two years younger than me.’ I tried to smile, but my mouth trembled. ‘What is it, Beth?’
‘I’m fine.’
Ignoring this blatant lie, he said, ‘Is it “the holiday”?’ putting quote marks around the words with his voice. ‘You know you don’t have to go.’
‘I do want to go,’ I said sharply. ‘I have to, for Hayley’s sake. I don’t want her growing up scared of the sea like me.’
‘But to go to the place where it happened …’ He shook his head. ‘Is it what you’d advise a “client”?’
‘What’s with the quote marks?’ I felt my brow furrow. ‘And you know we don’t advise our clients; that’s not what we do. We—
‘Provide a safe space for them to explore their feelings, I know.’ His voice was quieter too, and I couldn’t work out whether he was making fun of me.
‘Someone sent me a text on my birthday, saying it would be my last.’ I had an irrational urge to hurt him. ‘Was it you?’
‘What?’
‘That inflatable you brought in, yesterday.’
‘What about it?’
‘Are you messing with me, Matt?’
For a second, he looked genuinely confused. ‘For God’s sake, Beth, what are you talking about?’ There was a heavy beat of silence before he held out his hand. ‘Show me these messages.’
‘How do I know you’re not acting?’ My voice bounced back, too sharp.
‘Show me.’
I looked away from the heat in his eyes. ‘I can’t – they’ve gone.’
‘That’s convenient.’ His words were hard-edged, and when I glanced up, I was met with a flinty gaze. ‘If anyone’s sending you messages, Beth, it’ll be one of your patients,’ he said. ‘Have you reported it to someone at Fernley House?’
‘That would be convenient, wouldn’t it?’ I gave a disbelieving laugh, even though I hadn’t completely discounted it being one of my clients. ‘Easy to blame someone with mental health problems.’
His shrug was short and angry. ‘Isn’t that the obvious answer?’
‘For you, maybe.’
‘Why the hell would I want to hurt you?’
His expression was too hard to look at, so I stared instead at his shadow, stretching long and thin on the path behind him. ‘You still have a key for
the house.’
‘Yes, but I don’t just turn up and let myself in.’ The words even though I could if I wanted to hovered in the air. He could have driven over and left the bath taps running while Hayley was at her dance class. ‘I thought you knew me, Beth.’
‘I don’t know what to think right now.’
‘If you’re taking this seriously, you should talk to the police,’ he said grimly. ‘I’ve got nothing to hide.’
‘Maybe I already have.’ I checked him for a reaction, but he’d half turned, pushing his hair off his forehead. ‘I don’t like this, Beth.’
‘Me neither.’ I curled my hand around the edge of the door, lowering my voice as Hayley clattered into the kitchen. ‘I’ve got to go.’
‘Listen, maybe it’s just as well I’m taking Hayley away for a few days.’ His tone had toughened again. ‘You obviously need some space to sort out whatever’s going on.’ Our eyes collided and I felt a spinning sensation. ‘Out of curiosity,’ he added. ‘Have you accused Vic?’
My grip on the door tightened. ‘I didn’t accuse you of anything,’ I said. ‘I’m asking everyone.’
Anger tightened his brow. ‘Everyone but Vic,’ he said tightly. ‘You’re blind where he’s concerned.’
I stared, cheeks burning. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It means, he got his feet under the table pretty fast, didn’t he?’ Matt had said it before, but the words hit harder this time. ‘You do know he took advantage of you when you were vulnerable?’
‘Oh, Matt, just stop it.’ There was a ridge of unshed tears in my throat. ‘You couldn’t be more wrong about him.’
Matt took a step back, palms raised. His eyes, once bright and warm, were lit with battle. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
He turned and strode away. I wanted desperately to call him back and apologise for crossing a line, beg him to tell me the truth, but he was starting his car and I could only watch as it pulled away – a black Renault he bought after our split, replacing the motorbike he’d ridden for years; a car I’d never sat in with him.
I closed the front door and leaned my forehead against it, swallowing tears and forcing breath through my body.
