From the Inside

by Collette Heather

  I am still vaguely miffed with him for going out for a drink with some colleagues after work. He says that he had to, that a bit of bonding and schmoozing is a necessary part of the job sometimes, but I’m not convinced. Still, I can’t complain too much, because I feel like we are, in the main, getting us back on track again.

  “Hello, my two beautiful girls,” he says in the doorway, making me jump, and spin around. “Did you have a good day?”

  “I do wish you wouldn’t creep up on me like that.”

  “What’s the matter?” he laughs. “Guilty conscience?”

  He strides over to me, where he bundles me against him. He smells like outside – traffic fumes, air, and the faintest trace of sweat.

  But no perfume, I am pleased to note.

  For a fleeting second, I am reminded of Anne’s perfume, Anne, as in, cleaner Anne. Last Thursday, when she had held Bella, I was so sure that I had smelled the same perfume on her as the one I had smelled on Luke’s suit that time…

  But then I had dismissed it. I am sure that Anne – and many thousands of other women – wear that very same perfume. And maybe I had been mistaken, anyway.

  “The cleaner didn’t show up today,” I say, pulling out of his arms slightly to look him in the eye.

  Luke looks surprised. “She didn’t? Why not?”

  “I have no idea. She just didn’t show up. No calls, no messages, no nothing.”

  “Well, I didn’t like to say. That’s what happens when you don’t go through an agency.”

  Playfully, I swat him on the shoulder. “You’re such a know-it-all, you know that?”

  He grins at me – his special Luke grin – and my heart skips a beat.

  “Sometimes, we just get what we deserve,” he says with mock severity.

  I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”

  But he isn’t listening, as he is busy striding over in the direction of our daughter. I watch as he swoops her up in his arms. I love the way that she squeals in delight. I love them. In fact, I love my family so much, I have decided to stop secretly taking the pill.

  From now on, I’m going to embrace my life and count my blessings. After the tragedy that befell my almost-friend, Beth, I am reminded that life is short and precious.

  “Dad, Dad, Dad,” Bella laughs in delight, and I laugh right along with her.

  I am so lucky.

  The end.

  Hello, dear reader, you’ve reached the end of FROM THE INSIDE. I hope you enjoyed the tale. Below, I have enclosed a sample of the novella, THE BREAK IN. If you’re new to me, thanks for giving my work a chance, and thanks for sticking with me to the end of the book – I appreciate it more than I can ever say. And if you’ve picked me up before, thank you. None of this would be possible without you.

  Until next time,

  Collette x

  THE BREAK IN: A PSYCHOLOGICAL THRILLER

  BY COLLETTE HEATHER

  CHAPTER ONE

  NOW

  It wasn’t the man standing at the foot of the bed that woke Ellen Acton, or at least, it wasn’t because of the noise that he was making. Some sixth sense caused her eyes to snap open and she sat bolt upright in bed, staring hard into the shadowy gloom of the room.

  At first, she thought it was a nightmare, that the shadowy figure was a figment of her imagination. She thought that she was inexplicably suffering from a bout of night terrors with shadowy figures looming over her bed as she lay there paralysed, in a state somewhere between wakefulness and sleep…

  ‘Get out of the bed. Do not scream. And for pity’s sake, will you wake your husband?”

  The male voice was unfamiliar. The slightest hint of an accent which she couldn’t place. Northern, perhaps?

  But the sound of the deep voice made her realise one, all-important thing: This is no nightmare.

  Ellen’s heart raced in her chest, her breath hitching in her throat, the noise of it ragged and harsh to her own ears. Instinctively, she glanced to her left, to her mobile phone which she always kept on her bedside table at night.

  “Don’t even think about it,” the home intruder said.

  Her gaze snapped back to the foot of the bed. To him. She strained her eyes in the dark, trying to make sense of his face, but the bedroom was too dark. In fact, his face was entirely cast into shadows.

  His face was too dark. Impossibly dark.

  She blinked, straining her eyes. It was as if the intruder had no face.

  Fresh panic welled in her chest, squeezing her overworked heart, forcing it to pump even harder. She could hear the blood whooshing in her ears, feel the hard thump against her sternum, as solid as a dog’s tail thumping against floorboards.

  “Wake him up now. Or I’ll slit his throat as he sleeps.”

  His words stunned her, as surely as if a bucket of ice-water had been tipped over her head.

  This is a nightmare, came the unhelpful thought once more; one born of desperation and terror.

  Except it wasn’t, and she knew it. As shocking as this situation was, as unbelievably fantastical as it was, she recognised the fundamental truth of her own reality.

  With a monumental effort on her part to break the paralysis that kept her arms locked tight against the duvet that she clutched to her chest, she reached out for her gently snoring husband. He was on his side, facing away from her and she gave his shoulder a shake.

  “Harry. Wake up.” He mumbled irritably under his breath, and she shook him harder. “Harry.”

  “Huh? Wasamatter?”

  With all the elegance of a beached whale, he flopped onto his back, groaning like he was in agony. Despite her terror, a wave of irritation coursed through her.

  “Harry, for God’s sake, wake up.”

  The urgency in her voice must have had some effect for his hands flew up to his eyes and he groaned loudly like he was in great pain, his elbows pointing heavenward.

  With another groan that seemed to be wrenched up from a broken soul, he pulled himself upright, swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he did so. She glared at his broad, bare back, not believing how oblivious one person could possibly be.

  “Whasgoinon?” he slurred, slouching with his head in his hands.

  “Hello Harry, how nice of you to join us.”

  That woke him up. On hearing the stranger’s voice, his entire body flinched, then stiffened, and then he was on his feet.

  Ellen gasped at the suddenness of his movements, her panic a living, breathing thing that tightened around her heart and clenched in her guts.

  He’s going to get us both killed, came the unbidden thought.

  “Get back on the bed, Harry, or I’ll put a bullet in your wife’s head.”

  Ellen watched her husband in the gloom with bated breath. At six feet three and a regular at the local gym, Harry cut an imposing figure. His physique matched his personality – tough, uncompromising and unyielding. But as hard as he was, in both his personal and professional life he had earned his reputation for being tough but fair.

  No one got the better of Harry Acton, especially not some upstart that had broken into his home in the middle of the night to...

  To what? she wondered. Because her head was still reeling in confusion. None of this made a dot of sense.

  And the man had just said that he had a gun, the announcement of which had turned her bowels to ice. She peered more closely at the intruder, trying to make out further detail in the gloom. Specifically, she peered at his hands. His arms hung to the sides of his body and due to the darkness of the room, she couldn’t make out if his statement was true or not.

  For the scant seconds it took her to think all of this, Harry had remained rooted to the spot in just his undershorts, his body curled tight like a wild animal about to pounce. He seemed to think better of it, for he sat down on the edge of the bed, his body angled towards the intruder.

  “What do you want?” he asked in a monotone.

  “I want your money, Harry. And I want to have some fun be
fore I take it.”

  The sound of harsh breathing reached her ears and she realised that the noise was coming from her.

  “Who are you?” Harry asked.

  Yes. Who was he, indeed. Ellen didn’t know him, of that she was quite certain. But the question was, did Harry? Harry had a brilliant career as a successful software developer, having taken his degree in Computer Science back in the early nineties before technology had revolutionised the world. How many toes had he stepped on during his climb to the oh-so-glittering top? She knew for a fact that many were jealous of his success, but would anyone go to these lengths to exact revenge? To ruin him?

  To ruin them?

  Then, for the first time since this intruder had woken her, she thought of Ava sleeping in the third spare bedroom down the hall. Her stomach twisted into a tight ball of terror.

  How could she have only just thought about her daughter? What kind of a mother was she, to not immediately think of her daughter’s welfare before her own?

  Again, these thoughts crashed through her mind at the speed of light as the events in real time unfolded over the course of a few seconds.

  He’s wearing a balaclava, came the terrified thought. That’s why I can’t see his face. Absently, she wondered why she hadn’t realised this one, all-important fact straight away, but then, she reasoned, her mind wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders right now.

  “Now you listen to me, and you listen good. This is what’s going to happen. Both of you are going to get out of the bed, nice and calm, and not say a peep. Then we are going to go downstairs and join Ava. Am I making myself clear? No one gets hurt if you do as you’re told.”

  “What have you done to Ava?”

  The question escaped her mouth in a breathy rush before she had a chance to stop it.

  “If you’ve harmed our daughter…” Harry began.

  “Oh, will the pair of you just pipe down? No gets hurt if you just do as I say. So stand up and walk slowly towards the bedroom door. Any sudden movements and I will shoot you. We are going to go downstairs to the living room, nice and calm and quiet. Do you think you can manage that?”

  The stranger’s voice dripped with sarcasm and a new emotion tinged the edges of her fear; indignation.

  Still clutching the duvet to her chest, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. It suddenly occurred to her that she was wearing very little – just one of Harry’s ancient t-shirts that swamped her slim, five feet six frame. But thank God she was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of knickers. Quite often, after they’d had sex, she’d sleep in the nude, unlike Harry, who always wore pyjamas.

  Gritting her teeth in humiliation, she left behind the safety of her bed and got to her feet, tugging at the hem of her t-shirt as she did so. It covered her rump… just. Cringing in humiliation, she choked back the tears.

  Oh God, what if he rapes me?

  The terrifying thought slammed into her brain, stunning her, rooting her to the spot.

  “Ellen?” Harry said softly. “It’s going to be okay.”

  She glanced over at her husband, seeing that he too, was on his feet. She wanted to reply, to offer him some crumb of comfort in return, but she could think of nothing to say.

  “Come on people, move it. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  On violently shaking legs, Ellen walked over towards the door, to whatever horrors lay in wait for them.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ONE WEEK EARLIER

  “Well, isn’t this fabulous to all be together,” Ellen enthused, smiling at her two daughters who sat across from her and Harry at the chunky oak kitchen table. “I’m so happy that you’re both here today.”

  Ava smiled, causing Ellen’s to falter somewhat. Because when Ava smiled it wasn’t full of love and good cheer but was always tainted with the faintest trace of bitterness and sarcasm.

  No. Don’t let it get to you, today is supposed to be a good day.

  “Yes, Mum, it’s fabulous to be here. We wouldn’t miss your special day for anything, would we, Lily?”

  “No, of course not,” Lily replied immediately and emphatically. “And you honestly don’t look a day over thirty. Everyone that meets you thinks that you’re my sister.”

  Ava’s eyeroll was not lost on Ellen, but again, she did her best to ignore it.

  “I feel every one of my forty-two years, darling, and I look it, too.”

  ‘That’s just silly,” Harry chimed in. “You are just as beautiful as the day I met you. More so, in fact. You have aged like a fine wine.”

  “Please,” Ellen said, although pleased to hear such flattery from her husband; he was always inordinately kind about her appearance.

  Ava continued to smile that cold smile and Ellen smiled back, hoping to melt the ice-wall that permanently encircled her.

  It had no effect – not that she was expecting it to. Ellen looked away first, pretending to be engrossed in slicing a baby potato before popping it into her mouth.

  Never mind Lily claiming that she looked like her big sister – it was Ava who was the perfect replica of her. Ava shared her dark eyes, wavy, black hair and porcelain-white complexion. Lily was blonde and blue-eyed like Harry, and despite the pale hair turned a lovely shade of brown just by looking at the sun, a fact which Ellen was inordinately jealous of.

  Yes, whenever she looked at her eldest daughter, she was always struck by this one, irrefutable fact. It was as if she were staring into a mirror, except her reflection was twenty years younger than her.

  Sometimes, like now, she found it disconcerting.

  “I’m so happy you came, Ava, it means a lot to me and your dad.”

  She steeled herself to look at her again, and their gaze locked across the table. For a second, Ellen was sure that she glimpsed the vulnerable, sweet little girl beneath the sardonic façade, but just as quick that fleeting glimpse disappeared again and sneering Ava was back.

  “That’s great. Could you pass the pepper please, Lily?”

  “Sure,” Lily smiled.

  Ava didn’t smile back at her sister and there was no mistaking her subtlest of eyerolls. Lily, however, appeared not to notice. Or, more likely, chose not to.

  “I love what you’ve done in here, Mum,” Lily said, smiling sweetly as she accepted the pepper from her sister. “It’s so rustic. It totally looks like a showroom out of Ideal Home magazine, or something.”

  Rustic had been exactly what Ellen had been going for when she had called in the designers to fix their monstrously large kitchen. She was immensely pleased with the results and adored the new, dark-oak table that was almost Medieval in style with its solidity and simplicity.

  Ava sniggered. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? Because it’s good to put on a show for people, isn’t it Mum? I’m sure the neighbours are suitably jealous.”

  Ellen threw her eldest a sharp look and put down her knife and fork. She was about to reply that no, she hadn’t decorated to please the bloody neighbours, when she felt Harry’s gentle touch on her forearm.

  Leave it, his fingers whispered against her bare skin. It’s just Ava being Ava. Don’t rise to it.

  “So, tell us girls, what’s the news with you? Lily? Are you settling back into the swing of things at University?”

  Even though she knew her husband meant no harm, she couldn’t help but wince slightly at his question. Lily was so sweet-natured, so easy to get along with, that she inevitably engaged her parents in conversation far more so than Ava did. And even subconsciously, a question directed at both of them had turned into a question directed solely at Lily.

  Lily giggled at her father. “We’ve told you everything already – there’s nothing left to say.”

  “Oh, I don’t believe that for a second. You’ve been with us less than twenty-four hours and you say you’ve told us everything? How is that even possible?” Harry asked.

  “Well, what do you want to know?” Lily asked.

  “Is there anybody special in your life?”

/>   Lily’s bright blue eyes widened. “Dad! I’m not sure I want to discuss my love-life with you.”

  “Oh, come on,” he smiled, “don’t be coy. So I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

  From the way Lily’s pretty face flushed red, Ellen suspected that Harry had indeed struck a nerve. When she glanced at Ava, her heart clenched in her chest; her usually generous mouth was pinched and a horizontal line drew her fashionably-full brows together in an angry line.

  With great sadness, she wondered why Ava could never be happy for her sister. What had she done so wrong, as a mother, for her to turn out this way? Okay, so she used to drink too much when the kids were younger, but she had never laid a finger on them, and she had mainly kept her drinking to when the children were sleeping. She had never been abusive, mentally or physically. Or at least, she didn’t think that she had…

  Pushing aside the dark thoughts, she turned her full attention onto her blushing youngest. All of that hell was well and truly in the past; she mostly managed not to think about it so why should she start today, of all days?

  “Come on then, spill the beans. What’s his name? How old is he? Is he a medical student, too?”

  “Oh, he’s not a student.”

  Ellen frowned at that titbit of information; the fact that he wasn’t a student surprised her somewhat. She would even go as far as to say that she found it troubling.

  “He’s not? What does he do then? How did you meet him?”

  She had sudden visions of dear, sweet Lily getting tangled up with a biker, or a drug dealer, or, heaven forbid, a factory worker with zero ambition.

  “I met him at a public library in Exeter city centre. In the thriller section.”

  “The thriller section?” Harry said with a scowl before Ellen had a chance to formulate a reply. “What the hell where you doing in that? And you’re supposed to be studying, not reading trashy literature.”

  “For God’s sake, Dad, aren’t I allowed some downtime? It’s not like I drink and I’m not much into movies. Reading is my thing.”