by Lisa Hall
‘Of course.’
‘Brilliant.’ I let out a breath. ‘Thank you. Will you stay now? I would like Mina to see you properly when she wakes up.’
But Mum is already shaking her head. ‘I can’t stay, Allie. But I will be back, I will come with you to see this lady who lived here.’ She glances at the clock on the kitchen wall. ‘I should be going.’
It’s because of Rav, I think. Even though we’re married with children she doesn’t want to accept him, to accept that I’m happy with him.
‘Look, Mum, don’t worry about Rav.’
‘What do you mean?’ The look on her face tells me she knows exactly what I mean.
I sigh. ‘I know … the two of you don’t get on. You don’t like him.’ She opens her mouth to speak but I raise a hand. ‘I’d love nothing more than for you to just accept that Rav and I are together, but I kind of know that isn’t going to happen now. I suppose what I’m trying to say is … I’m glad you’re here. And if you don’t want to come over when Rav is here, then it’s fine with me. I’m just happy to be able to spend some time with you. I’ve missed you.’
My mother smiles and presses her cold hand to my cheek. ‘I am glad to see you too. And I do have to go, but I will come over again, tomorrow perhaps.’
I walk her to the front door and watch her walk away up the path towards the village, towards the train station. The baby shouts, awake again, and I turn to listen, then when I look back she is gone, the street empty. As I close the door, I hear it again, a low scratch coming from the chimney, before a door upstairs closes with a bang as if a window has been left open.
Chapter Thirteen
The slam of the door frightens the baby, his shouts getting louder as I hurry along the hallway, unease prickling under my skin. My phone buzzes on the table with a text message from Rav as I scoop up the baby, the smell rising from his Babygro telling me it’s time to change him. Wearily I head for the stairs, ignoring the text, and lay the baby on the changing table. As soon as he is clean and dry his cries stop, and I stand over him for a moment, just watching as his tiny fists pump the air, his legs kicking. He gazes up at me, trying to focus on my face before his eyes move past me to a spot over my shoulder. There is a thud in my chest as my heart does a double beat. I can feel it again, the cold draught across the back of my neck, that needle-like sensation of eyes on me. Breath on the back of my neck. I squeeze my eyes closed, suddenly so sure that there is someone behind me, close enough to touch, peering over my shoulder at the baby. I gently lay a hand on his chest and whip my head round, only to see an empty room. There is no one there. I let out the breath I am holding and look towards the window, but it is shut.
The window is shut. I quickly put the baby’s arms and legs back into his Babygro, and pick him up, holding him close as I walk on shaking legs through the open door into Mina’s room, and then through the open door of the bathroom. All the windows are shut, and every door stands open. I close my eyes and try to count to ten, only getting to five before they fly open, adrenaline making my hands shake. If the windows are all closed and the doors are open, then what was it that made a huge bang as I waved my mother goodbye? I didn’t imagine it, I’m sure of it, the baby woke and started crying. Making small shushing sounds to the baby as he begins to fuss, I head back downstairs to the living room, where Mina still sleeps on the sofa, her cheeks now flushed with pink. I settle in the armchair across from her and latch the baby on before he can begin to wail properly. All is quiet now, the only sounds the snuffling of the baby and Mina’s breath as she snores lightly, sounding slightly congested. I feel myself begin to relax, my shoulders lowering as no sound comes from overhead, and the chimney is silent. My pulse slowing, I allow myself to think over my mother’s visit, now I am over the shock of seeing her sitting at my kitchen table. I can’t believe she was here. The sight of her, sitting there as though it hadn’t been months and months since I last saw her, was something I never expected but I am relieved she came. I still feel unsettled, and although she didn’t give me much sympathy – which is not unusual, that’s just how she is – I feel as though she believes me more than Rav. Rav is convinced that it’s exhaustion that is making me feel so on edge. But I am still no closer to understanding what the vision I keep seeing could mean. If I’m honest I played it down a little, not telling her that I didn’t just dream it whilst asleep, that it plays on my mind in the day too.
I wake Mina for lunch, trying to push any thoughts of my mother, and the slamming of the door upstairs, from my mind for a while. She struggles into consciousness, her cheeks still flushed and her eyes bleary. She grumbles as she comes into full wakefulness and raises her arms for me to lift her. I carry her through into the kitchen, her small body warm against mine, and prepare her some soup and fingers of bread. Mina picks at the bread listlessly, letting the soup spill in bright orange spots onto the table.
‘I’m not hungry,’ she whines, and slides off the chair, heading back towards the sofa. By the time I clean up and follow her, she is asleep again, tucked into the armchair this time and I feel a faint prickling of worry. She’s just off colour, I tell myself. All kids get a bit under the weather sometimes. I resist the urge to call Naomi and ask her what she thinks, still feeling uneasy about the text from her that I saw on Rav’s phone, and instead I close my eyes and decide to do what they all keep telling me to – I try to sleep.
Scratch. Scratch. The noise from the chimney wakes me from the light, troubled doze I have allowed myself to fall into. I open my eyes without moving from where my head rests on the cushioned arm of the sofa, and stare up at the cracked, yellowing ceiling as the noise comes again, seeming louder this time. Turning my head, I see Mina is awake, but her eyes look too bright and her cheeks are flushed a deeper pink. The scratching comes again but Mina makes no sign that she has heard it.
‘Min?’ I whisper and she turns to look at me. ‘Are you feeling poorly?’
‘I don’t feel well, Mama,’ she says, before sliding from the armchair and coming to me, climbing up to lie on my chest. She is hot, too hot, her skin dry and burning.
‘Oh, darling.’ Holding her close I struggle to sit up, trying to ignore the insistent scratching from the chimney, a shard of guilt slicing through me. Did I cause this by keeping her home and saying she was unwell, when just this morning she was fine? Did I call some higher power into play when the lie tripped off my tongue? Witchcraft. Strange things have happened around Gowdie Cottage ever since. I shake the thought away, chiding myself for being ridiculous. ‘Let me get you some medicine.’ Laying her down, I get to my feet, noticing as I do that the sun is lower in the sky than I was expecting, the puddle of sunlight that was in the middle of the room when I sat down earlier has now almost disappeared, just pale fingers reaching the edge of the windowsill.
In the kitchen, I rummage in the cupboard searching for the infant paracetamol, but to no avail. The bottle we have doesn’t even contain enough for one dose, and I am pretty sure Mina has a temperature, probably an ear infection the way she tugged on her earlobe as she climbed onto my lap. Picking up my phone to call Rav, I see the last text message he sent still sitting unread. I swipe to open the screen, revealing the message.
Just checking in, haven’t heard from you all day. I’ll probably be late again tonight. Don’t wait up.
x
I imagine him quickly tapping out the text between calls or clients, then sliding the phone into his desk drawer, forgetting about us for the rest of the afternoon.
I tap on his name to call his office line, glancing at the clock to see with a shock that it is almost six o’clock. Hovering my finger above the icon to connect the call, I pause for a moment. There isn’t much point in calling him. I probably won’t get through, and even if I do, he’ll be brusque and snappy, annoyed at me for disturbing him at work. And anyway, I can’t wait for him to pick up infant paracetamol on the way home if he’s going to be really late. I tap my fingers on my chin as I think. The time on my phone ticks over
to 5.56 p.m. and I think of Naomi. The shop closes at six o’clock, but the phone rings out when I call. Swiping to call her mobile number, I wait, anxiously tapping one foot on the tiled floor but it goes to voicemail. She must be on her way home already. Sighing, I stoop to pick up Mina’s trainers from the hallway and grab her little jacket from the coat stand by the door.
‘Come on, darling, let’s go and get you some medicine.’
There is a hint of a chill in the air, despite the sun still being above the horizon, and I walk briskly, glad that I thought to attach the weird buggy board contraption that Avó bought us so Mina can ride along instead of walking. The small supermarket in the village is still open and I hurry inside, glancing at the darkened windows of The Daisy Chain as I pass. I had half wished that Naomi was working late and hadn’t answered her phone because she was occupied with floristry tape and ferns, but the complete darkness even at the far end of the shop tells me otherwise. Snatching up the medicine, I pay quickly and once outside lay my hand on Mina’s forehead. She is still warm, so I open the package and hastily squirt a syringe of sticky pink liquid into her mouth, hoping it will start to work by the time we get home.
‘Daddy,’ Mina mumbles as I tuck the blanket a little tighter around the baby, before turning the pram in the direction of home.
‘Yes, Daddy will be home soon,’ I murmur, laying one hand on her head as I try to steer with the other.
‘No, Daddy,’ Mina’s voice is thin and whiny as she raises a finger to point to the small area outside the village pub. I look to where she is pointing, my heart seeming to stop in my chest. Rav’s car is parked in a narrow space outside the pub. I pause, then slowly step towards the pub window, peering in through the glass into the bar. Rav sits there, a pint next to one elbow, as Naomi sits beside him, talking animatedly. It’s such a familiar scene that I can almost hear her voice, the only difference is that I am this side of the window. Shut out. Rav keeps his eyes on her as she talks, and I realize I can’t remember the last time he paid so much attention to me when I am speaking. Naomi moves closer, her knee resting against his as she nudges Rav in the arm, shaking her head with a faint hint of a smile on her face before she raises her hand in a gesture to the barman to bring her another glass of wine.
I watch, my pulse thudding loudly in my ears, unable to tear my gaze away. Mina shifts impatiently beside me, as Rav leans in close to Naomi, his lips grazing her hair as he talks in her ear. Turning her face so that she is gazing into his eyes, Naomi reaches out a hand and twines her fingers with his, before Rav slides off his bar stool completely and stands beside Naomi, wrapping her in his arms. I turn away, bile burning the back of my throat, my eyes hot and sore with unshed tears as I grasp Mina tightly by the hand.
I start to walk briskly, ignoring Mina’s cries, almost running across the pedestrian crossing and narrowly missing a cyclist who raises a middle finger in my direction.
‘I want Daddy,’ Mina cries, her hot face red and sweaty.
‘It’s not Daddy,’ I lie, ‘it’s just the same car as Daddy. He has to work late but he’ll come in and kiss you goodnight, OK?’ The lie tastes bitter on my tongue and I store it away, to think over later when Mina is bathed and in bed, her temperature finally lowered, when the house is quiet, and I can turn it over in my mind.
‘Al? I’m home.’ It’s close to nine o’clock when I hear the front door slam closed, and then Rav walks through the bedroom door.
‘Some meeting,’ I say, not looking up from where I am leaning over the cot. The baby is sleeping but I don’t want to make eye contact, don’t want to watch his face as he lies.
‘God, it really was.’ Rav lowers his voice, stripping off his jacket, throwing his tie on the chair in the corner of the bedroom. ‘Sorry I’m so late. Did you eat?’
‘Yes, I ate with Mina,’ I lie. I watched Mina eat a small bowl of spaghetti hoops, if that counts. ‘Sorry I didn’t save you anything.’
‘Oh, don’t worry. I grabbed something after the meeting.’ He walks towards the bathroom, snatching up a bath towel and I follow him, my skin prickling.
‘Did you? Where did you go?’ I wait expectantly, giving him the chance to redeem himself without knowing.
‘I stopped for a pint with Gareth, so we grabbed some chips while we were there.’ He turns the shower on, the pipes clanking.
‘Oh.’ My stomach drops away, as if on a rollercoaster and I tense as Rav turns and wraps his arms around my waist, his bare skin warm against my body. ‘Mina isn’t well, I think she’s got an ear infection.’
‘Really? Poor thing. Keep her home from nursery tomorrow.’ Rav kisses the top of my head and I bury my face against his chest, the hairs there tickling the end of my nose.
‘We had no Calpol. I had to take her out to buy some – I did call Naomi to ask if she could get me some because it was almost six, and I knew she would have been leaving work, but she didn’t reply.’
Rav stills, almost imperceptibly, before pulling away from me and yanking back the curtain to the shower. Steam fills the room and wraps around his body, creating a blanket between us.
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so late. I wanted to miss the traffic back from Bromley, so I didn’t leave the pub till gone eight.’ He’s lying, and the ease with which he does it makes the blood in my veins run cold.
Three o’clock in the morning. The real witching hour, not midnight as I always believed. The sensation of someone sitting on the bed wakes me from the light, troubled doze I have fallen into and I blink myself awake, sure for a moment that I can feel a hand on my chest, the warmth of a palm lingering on my skin. I lie still, Rav’s snore rumbling in my ear as he sleeps the dead slumber of the deceitful, waiting for something. I have the feeling that I was not alone while I was sleeping. That someone was there, watching me. I lie there, trying to keep my breathing even and regular as my heart crashes in my chest and my skin prickles with goosebumps, but there is no movement, no longer any sense that there is someone in the room other than Rav. A dream, that’s all. But even as I think the words, I know I don’t believe them. The baby stirs and I feed him quickly and silently, before placing him back in the cot and going to stand at the landing window, the chilly draught around my legs. Rav still snores lightly and I am alone. I can’t sleep, visions of feathers, a figure on the stairs, a flash of movement in the mirror, my mother, Rav drinking in a pub forty miles closer to home than he said he was, all dancing in my head as soon as I close my eyes. I look out on to the woods, strain behind my eyes causing the faint thud of a headache at the bridge of my nose. Why were Rav and Naomi meeting at the pub? And why would he lie? Is this something to do with the text she sent him about needing to talk to him? They looked like they belonged together, I think, picturing them in the pub, they looked like a couple. Is that what this is? A prickle of unease runs down my spine, as a fox appears at the edge of the woods, his head raised as he sniffs the air. Wily, cunning, sharp. Can these words apply to Rav too? The fox steps towards the pond, his nose close to the ground now, hunting something that has scurried along this same path. There is a shriek from the woods, a high, keening sound that makes my breath stick in my throat and my hand flies to my mouth, a pulse roaring in my ears. Just an animal, I tell myself, an owl, or a mate to the sleek, red fox that works its way towards the water now, the lumpen, dark body of something rustling in the reeds, before slipping into the water, ripples spreading across the broken surface. An animal, nothing more. I close my eyes to the image of a small body, huddling in the trees, the moonlight casting a blue-white aura around her blonde hair. Agnes’s child, still waiting, still lost. The shriek comes again, and I turn from the window, anxious to lie next to Rav’s warm, lying, deceitful body. It sounds unnervingly human.
Chapter Fourteen
Rav seems overly attentive this morning, bringing me a cup of tea before the baby has even woken for his six o’clock feed, and sitting on the edge of the bed as I sit up to drink it.
‘Aren’t you goi
ng to be late?’ I bury my face in my cup, the steam hot on my cheeks. My head still thuds with a dull ache after only a couple of hours’ sleep and I wish he hadn’t woken me.
‘Yes, Probably. I didn’t get to see you last night.’ He reaches for my hand, but I move, scratching at a non-existent itch at the top of my arm. It was his choice to come home so late. His choice to meet Naomi instead of coming home to us. The image of the two of them, sitting so close together, looking so intimate, rises to the front of my mind and I feel suddenly sick.
‘Well, I need to get up.’ I push back the covers, cold air hitting my legs and feet. ‘I need to get Mina ready for preschool.’
‘You’re not sending her today?’ Rav frowns, shifting out of the way so that I can get out of bed. ‘I thought she was ill? I checked on her when I got up and she was still a little warm, so I don’t think she should go in today, Allie.’
I had forgotten that Mina was ill yesterday. How could I have forgotten? I sink back down onto the bed, taking back the mug that Rav holds out. ‘Of course not. Of course, I’m not going to send her.’
‘Al, are you sure everything is OK? You seem … I don’t know. Not yourself.’ Concern sits on his face and I wonder just how sincere that concern is.
‘Everything is fine. I saw the health visitor yesterday, she was happy, she’s discharged us.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. Really. I should get up, and you need to get going. You don’t want to have to make up any time at the office.’ Because I know you didn’t stay late for a meeting last night. The words hang unspoken in the air, but it’s only me who is aware of them.
‘How about I try and get home a bit early tonight? I’ll pick us up Thai on the way back and maybe we can sit out by the pond and have a glass of wine when the baby goes to bed?’ His fingers inch towards mine, reaching out, stroking my palm and I feel my pulse slow.
