by Jess Ryder
Was Jen still my friend, or had she been my enemy all along?
I heard her coming back into the house. Nick ran back downstairs and their dialogue echoed through the hallway. I put my ear to the door and listened, my heart beating an anxious rhythm to their words.
Jen: ‘I need to get going. Emily’s on her own in the car.’
Nick: ‘Please stay. I’m not sure I can do this on my own.’
Jen: ‘No, Nicky, this was your idea, you have to go through with it. I did what you asked, my job’s done. We need to get Emily out of here.’
Nick: ‘Yeah, yeah, you’re right. It’ll be okay, everything’s set up.’
There was a pause, and I could imagine them embracing, Nick kissing her on the forehead the way he used to do with me.
‘You know where to meet, yes? I’ll only be a couple of hours.’
I heard her walk out, the front door closing behind her. Then a car door opening and shutting. The Range Rover starting up, its thick wheels on the gravel, then fading into the distance. Jen had gone and taken Emily – my daughter – with her. The horrible truth was spinning through my head. I felt sick and dizzy, as if I was falling into an abyss. I wanted to scream, but my mouth was dry. I wanted to break down the door, but I couldn’t move.
Nick breathed out a heavy sigh, then walked into the kitchen, his shoes slapping on the hard floor. He started running the tap and I could picture his fingers playing in the stream of water, waiting for it to turn icy cold. I started to shiver. What was he going to do next?
28
Then
Jennifer
* * *
Emily wouldn’t stop screaming. She was loud enough to wake the neighbours, even though the nearest house was over a mile away. I stopped the Range Rover at the end of the track, making sure it wasn’t visible from the road, then went to fetch the Mazda. I pulled up in front and released Emily, leaving her to thrash around in the back while I transferred her seat. I’d never installed a child seat in my life before and cursed myself for not looking closely enough at how it was strapped in. After a couple of frantic, sweaty minutes, during which I thought Emily was going to head-butt the window, I managed it. She protested as I put her back in, kicking at me and pinching my arms.
‘Stop it!’ I shouted. ‘Please, stop it!’ I handed her a beaker of water, but she threw it at me. There was no calming her; I would just have to try to ignore it. I got in the driver’s seat and reversed, forgetting in my panic to make sure no traffic was coming. Luckily the road was deserted.
I drove off slowly, trying to settle my nerves. Emily was still wailing her head off. I thought about singing a lullaby but couldn’t remember any, so I tried ‘Baa, Baa, Black Sheep’ instead. It seemed to comfort her a little. Either that, or it was the motion of the car.
Her cries eventually subsided, and she drifted back to sleep. It was a thirty-mile drive to the motel, which would take about an hour on these winding roads. I hoped she wouldn’t give me as much grief when she woke up. It would take Nicky a while to join us, so the immediate childcare would fall to me. Not that I minded – I was looking forward to all that – but as a mother, I was a complete beginner.
As I drove down the eerily quiet lanes, my headlights almost constantly on full beam, I tried not to think about what was going on back at the house, focusing my mind instead on how everything had come full circle. Hayley had always predicted Nicky would tire of Natasha. ‘The marriage is doomed. He’ll come crawling back, I’d bet my mortgage on it,’ she said. I didn’t believe her at the time, thought she was just trying to soften the blow.
It was the day of their wedding and Hayley and I were drowning my considerable sorrows in the kitchen of my swanky new apartment. Nicky was paying the preposterous rent, and putting seven thousand pounds a month into my bank account, but his financial generosity meant nothing to me. Unstinting loyalty and moral support was what I needed; a shoulder to sob on, someone who wouldn’t be shocked when I ranted about how much I wanted to kill the bitch who had stolen my husband and wrecked my life.
Hayley was a very willing friend. She had refused to go to the wedding, a shabby little registry office affair by all accounts, with only a few guests. Nicky’s parents had relented at the last minute, for the sake of their new grandchild, but Hayley had stood firm, tearing up her invitation and sending it back in the post.
‘To the bride and groom! Here’s wishing them illness, poverty and miserableness,’ she declared, topping up my glass. It was mid-morning and we were already half-cut. ‘Is miserableness a word?’
‘I think you mean misery,’ I said, feeling the alcohol singing in my head.
‘Yes, misery. Illness, poverty and misery!’ We drank our evil toast and Hayley cackled like a witch casting a hex.
I was trying to be angry rather than heartbroken, but it was proving difficult. My eyes kept drifting to the oven clock. The ceremony – such as it was – was taking place at eleven o’clock, and it was now 10.53. It felt like the countdown to the end of my world. How would I go on? The baby was due in a few weeks’ time. Apparently, it was a girl. If she looked like the child I’d dreamed of, with Nicky’s dark hair and brown doe eyes, I would want to kill myself.
‘How did he manage to get her pregnant, that’s what I don’t understand. I suppose she’s got youth on her side, eggs popping out of her like a chicken, but even so …’ Hayley wittered on, not noticing how her words were striking me like knife blows. ‘When I think about what you went through, trying to conceive, all those false hopes … And that’s how he repays you. Jesus Christ, I know he’s my brother, but I hate him for what he’s done to you. And I admire you for standing aside like that, giving him the quick divorce. I wouldn’t have been so generous; I’d have given him hell. You’re a saint, Jen, you know that? A bloody saint.’
‘It’s not his fault,’ I said quietly. ‘She’s giving him what he’s always wanted. I can’t compete with that.’
‘Oh, she knew what she was doing, for sure. But Nicky’s to blame, too. He had the affair.’
‘Lots of men are unfaithful, especially at his age.’ Recently I’d read countless self-help books on the subject. ‘It’s in the wiring.’
‘Well it better not be in Ryan’s wiring, that’s all I can say,’ she retorted.
‘He said he was sorry, and I believed him. I’ve forgiven him.’
‘Yeah, I can see your halo, sweetie.’ Hayley drew a circle above my head. ‘He didn’t have to marry her, though, did he?’
I glanced again at the clock: 10.58. Two minutes to go to oblivion. I swallowed the rest of my wine and held out the glass for a top-up.
But in the end, Hayley was right. It took a year for Nicky to see the light. If I’d fought him over the divorce, insisted on my share of the house, if I’d been spiteful and vengeful, he wouldn’t have come back.
I turned my thoughts back to the present. The roads were virtually empty, and I made good time, arriving at the motel just before 2 a.m. It was one of those anonymous places attached to a service station, offering twenty-four-hour check-in. The receptionist didn’t give me a second glance, but I still made sure not to look straight into the security cameras.
‘My husband will be arriving within the next couple of hours,’ I said. It felt strange, but exciting, to be using that term again. Emily was draped all over me – I’d managed to extricate her from the car seat without waking her – and I was weighed down with our overnight bags. It took several attempts to swipe into our room, a family double with a view over the car park.
I eased the bags off my shoulder and let them fall to the floor, then gently put Emily into the cot. Relief flooded out of me as I collapsed onto the bed. I took out my pay-as-you-go phone, hoping not to see a text from Nick – he would only contact me if it was a dire emergency. We’d been very careful to make sure our mobiles couldn’t be tracked, communicating during the past weeks by post, of all things, and burning the letters as soon as we’d read them. It had felt li
ke we were playing out a dark sexual fantasy. But it wasn’t a fantasy, it was real. And right now, it was getting a whole lot more real for Nicky.
You promised you wouldn’t think about that, I reminded myself.
Emily murmured in her sleep and I went to her immediately, standing over the cot and gazing at her grubby, tear-stained face. She was jerking her head from side to side, and looked like she was dreaming. ‘There, there,’ I whispered, tentatively laying my hand on her tummy. ‘I’ll take care of you, sweetie-pie.’ She had no idea how much I loved her or what I’d endured to get to this point. I stood there for ages, marvelling at the sight of her. She looked so gorgeous, I could hardly believe that she was mine at last.
Natasha would never be found. The lake was deep, the house remote, and most importantly, nobody would have any reason to look for her there. It had taken hours of research to find the right place, but it was perfect. We’d rented it under a false name and paid in advance in cash. Natasha had completely fallen for the story that it was a favourite family holiday home, that Nicky had proposed to me on the lake and that we’d dreamed of bringing our own baby to stay there.
I’d assumed that befriending her would be the hardest part, that she would see through me straight away, but either I was a great liar, or she was desperately naïve. A bit of both, I suspected. The more I’d got to know her, the more I found I liked her, even though it irked me to admit it. She was an open, honest person, not the schemer Hayley and I had first imagined. I admired her bravery, especially when it came to Emily. Nicky held all the cards, but she hadn’t caved in like I had. She would put up a fight, of that I had no doubt.
I tried to rest, but it was impossible. My brain was on fire and nothing could quench the flames. Had there been a minibar, I would have drunk it dry. Instead, I paced around the tiny bedroom, wringing my hands, looking between the vertical blinds for sight of the Range Rover’s headlights, listening out for the sound of Nicky’s footsteps padding down the corridor.
Another two hours passed; it was almost dawn. I was exhausted, and could feel a headache coming on. Filling the kettle from the bathroom tap, I put it on to boil, hoping the noise wouldn’t disturb Emily. Waking up in a strange place without her father here might upset her, and I couldn’t cope with more crying. She knew me a little but wasn’t at ease with me. That would take time, I knew that. I wasn’t expecting miracles.
I forced myself to stop looking out of the window and sat down. I drank the disgusting tea, read the hotel instructions several times and flicked through a tourist magazine. The birds were singing in the new day and soft pink sunlight was streaming through the gaps in the blinds. We were almost there. Once Nicky turned up, our new life as a family could begin.
29
Then
Natasha
* * *
I took a gulp of stale air and rested my back on the cupboard wall. All my limbs were aching, my lungs were heavy with dust and my mouth was parched dry. I strained for sounds of activity beyond the door, but things had been silent for a while. It was hard to know how long I’d been locked in. Time had become a concept, not something I could measure. I’d heard Nick climbing the stairs not long after Jen left, but as far as I knew, he’d not come down again. I tried to work out what he was doing. Making the final arrangements? Rehearsing his plans? Downing a bottle of whisky to give him courage?
He had to do something with me. He couldn’t leave me here to starve to death. This was a holiday rental; my body would be discovered immediately, and he’d easily be traced. No, he’d have to kill me with his own bare hands and then make sure I couldn’t be found. Horrible images sprang into my head – knives and ropes, gags, tape, plastic sheeting. I shuddered at the thought of what he might do to me, but at the same I couldn’t believe he was capable of it. This was my husband I was talking about, not a psychopathic murderer. Nick liked his own way, but he hated physical violence. He’d never hit me, and I’d only seen him lose his temper once.
But now I realised I’d been married to an impostor. I’d thought ours was a love so strong that nothing could stand in its way, but it had all been an act. He’d lied to me from the beginning, tricked and exploited me, used me as an unwitting surrogate. As I pieced it together, I felt more and more sick. Had this always been the plan, or had the idea been born when he discovered I was pregnant? I thought back to that extraordinary time, seeing it with fresh eyes. How quickly Jen had capitulated and moved out of the house, seemingly giving us her blessing. How graciously she’d accepted her failure to give Nick the child he longed for. I’d been told to pity her. Poor barren old Jen, washed up and rejected, unable to move on with her life, always hanging around for crumbs of Nick’s affection. I was seen as the evil seductress, the hard-hearted gold-digger who’d wrecked a happy marriage. I’d lost friends over it. Even my own mother had turned against me. And all that time …
How could I have got it so wrong? Why didn’t I see the signs?
Emotion welled up, but I pushed it back down. Tears would weaken me, and I needed to be strong. The atmosphere was stifling. My eyes kept succumbing to the darkness, but I had to stay alert. At some point Nick would have to open the door and pull me out. I needed to be ready for him.
The bottle of bathroom spray and the hoover tube were the only weapons I had. I tried to visualise the attack, focusing on the target of his face. I would summon up more than my strength, like people did in moments of extreme stress. I’d read stories of women who had lifted cars off their children, or held their breath for minutes to save themselves from drowning. All I had to do was think of Emily, and superhuman powers would surge through my veins.
Her hysterical screaming still reverberated in my head, but I turned it into a battle cry, an inspiring soundtrack to my fight. I had to survive for her sake. I couldn’t let her grow up thinking that vile woman was her real mother. Emily was little more than a baby, her memories as fragile as cobwebs. It would be easy to sweep them away and allow new ones to take their place. They would tell her fake stories. In time, she’d forget I’d ever existed. I couldn’t let that happen. A fresh wave of anger rose within me, filling me with new energy. I was clenching my jaw so tightly my teeth were hurting.
Come on, Nick. What are you waiting for? But there was no sign of him.
Time passed.
Nothing.
It was torture.
I resolutely stayed at my post by the little door and tried to focus on Emily, talking to her in my head. I told her not to worry, that Mama would be with her soon and everything would be all right. Where was she? I wondered. Had Jen taken her back to London, or were they nearby, waiting for Nick to join them?
What was taking him so long?
The old house was so still and silent, I couldn’t even hear it breathing. He was trying to break me down, I decided. Yes, that was it. There was no need for him to hurry – a few days stuck in here without food or water would weaken me considerably. My muscles would seize up in this tight space, the oxygen would become thinner and thinner and I’d have problems breathing. That would lead to panic attacks and chest pain; maybe I’d lose consciousness. Once he could no longer hear my cries for help or mercy, he’d open the door and drag me out like a doll. I wouldn’t be able to move, let alone fight back. He’d roll me in a tarpaulin, weigh me down with rocks and throw me into the deepest part of the lake. There’d be no blows to strike, no blood to clean up. My murder would be frighteningly easy.
I was hit by a new wave of despair. Why was I always so impetuous, so determined to do everything my way? Why I had trusted Jen and ignored Mum’s advice? I’d let Emily down so badly. I would never forgive myself, and if she ever found out, she’d never forgive me either. I banged my forehead on my knees until it hurt.
At that moment I heard creaking on the stairs above me. He was coming down. His footsteps echoed on the tiled hallway floor. I shuffled forward and peered through the crack at the side of the door. I could just make out blue flashes of jeans as
he paced back and forth outside. Then he crouched down, inches away from me, and the gap filled with the white of his shirt.
‘Tash?’
His voice sounded soft and familiar. Not long ago, it would have melted me instantly, but now it made me feel afraid.
‘Tash? Are you awake? … Tash, please talk to me. Just say something.’
‘Like what?’ My voice was dry and rasping; I didn’t recognise it.
‘We need to talk. I’m going to open the door and let you out, okay? I’m not going to harm you, I promise.’
I didn’t believe him for one fraction of a second. This was tactics, nothing more. My fingers tightened around the hoover tube. With the other hand, I held the spray bottle in front of me and prepared to squeeze the trigger.
The bolt rattled as he pulled it back, the wooden door creaking on its hinges as it opened. A shaft of light almost blinded me, but I squirted the cleaning fluid in the general direction of his face. He drew back, yelping with pain, and I hurled myself out of the cupboard, leaping to my feet and striking him several times with the hoover tube. But my blows were weedy, and he quickly recovered and twisted round, knocking the tube out of my hand. It skidded across the floor.
We stood facing each other, paralysed for a second.
‘Not like this, Tash,’ he gasped, his eyes streaming. ‘It doesn’t have to be like this. Let’s talk.’
I shook my head. ‘You bastard …’ I turned and ran for the front door, but he was right behind me. He grabbed me by the waist as I fumbled with the latch and pulled me away. I kicked and scratched and elbowed him in the ribs, but he held on for a few seconds before suddenly letting go, pushing me headlong to the floor. He sat astride my back and lifted my head up by my hair. I smelt his breath as he bent forward and spoke in my ear.
