by Jess Ryder
‘Don’t make me do this.’
‘Do what?’
‘You know …’
There was a pause. My scalp was burning, my neck muscles killing me, but I kept my voice steady.
‘You won’t get away with it,’ I said. ‘I saw Jen put the postcode in the satnav and texted it to Mum. If she doesn’t hear from me, she’ll call the police.’
I felt his grip on me loosen slightly. ‘You’re lying.’
‘Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Why risk it?’
I could almost hear his brain making calculations. The fear I could smell was his, not mine. Now I knew why he’d waited so long before opening the cupboard. He couldn’t go through with it.
There was a sliver of hope. I had to grasp it and not let it slip out of my fingers.
‘Is this what you want for Emily?’ I continued. ‘To know that her father killed her mother? She’ll find out eventually. When you’re serving life in prison and she’s in care—’
‘Shut up!’
‘Please let me go. Give me Emily and I promise I won’t go to the police.’
He didn’t reply.
‘I’m trying to help you here, Nick. I know you don’t want to kill me. You’re right, we should talk. Like grown-ups. Talk about Emily, our beautiful little girl. We made her together, Nick. We both love her so much, she needs us both. I know we can work something out.’
There was a pause, then he let go of my hair and I felt his weight lifting off my back. He swung his leg over and stood up. I slowly got onto my hands and knees, then to my feet. I turned around to face him and forced a very small smile.
‘Thank you,’ I said.
I looked into his eyes, searching for some residue of the man I once loved, but his gaze was glassy. I’d thought he was weakening, but now I wasn’t so sure. He looked old and haggard, his eyes stinging red, his mouth drooling with spit. Could I trust him not to hurt me? Or should I take my chance?
I moved towards him and put my hands on his shoulders. ‘I still love you, Nick,’ I said, then raised my knee and rammed it into his balls as hard and viciously as I could. He cried out and staggered back, doubling up in agony and clasping his genitals. I leapt to the front door, opened it and ran into the dark.
It was pitch-black and I couldn’t see a thing. The moon was as thin as a nail clipping and there were no stars. My eyes wouldn’t adjust. I could hear him shouting curses behind me. I’d paralysed him for now, but in a minute or so he would recover and come after me. Stumbling to the edge of the drive, I found the start of the track. It was the quickest way to the road, but too obvious a route. I decided to go across the garden and hope there was a gap in the fence, or a place I could hide. My feet squelched on the long, dewy grass as I moved down the slope. I knew there would be rabbit holes and rocks in my path, but I had to run all the same, even though it was so dark it was like wearing a blindfold.
‘Tash! Tash!’ I froze and looked back. Nick was standing in the doorway, illuminated by the hallway light. He was staring into the blackness, trying to pick me out. I was no more than thirty metres ahead of him; it wasn’t enough. I started moving again, trying not to make a sound.
There was a dark expanse of something ahead of me, like a huge sheet of grey metal. The lake. I cursed under my breath. But it was too late; there was no other direction to go in. I could hear Nick behind me, panting as he negotiated the lumps and bumps of the terrain. I heard him stumble and fall.
‘Tash! Stop! You won’t get away from me! There’s no way out.’
Another shape was coming into focus – a small rowing boat. I don’t know why, but I started running towards it. There was no way I could row across the water and escape, but something drew me there all the same. Inside the boat was a wooden oar. I picked it up and weighed it in my hands.
Nick was back on his feet and approaching fast. I could hear him breathing heavily. My eyes were starting to adjust, and I could see his white shirt bobbing towards me. I pulled back the oar and swung it at his face. It was a lot heavier than the hoover tube and it smashed against his nose. He spun around, and I hit him again, catching the side of his head this time. His jaw went slack; blood was pouring out of his nostrils. I took a third swing, sending him staggering backwards. The oar pursued him and struck his face again and again. It seemed to have a life of its own and I did nothing to stop it.
There was a splash as he hit the water.
‘Tash …’ he gurgled.
I dropped my weapon and ran. I charged back up the slope, helter-skelter through the grass and onto the drive. Ahead of me was the track that led to the road. I ran for my life. I ran as if he was chasing me, even though I knew he was drowning.
The Range Rover was parked up ahead. Jen must have changed cars. I ran up to it and plucked at the door handle. It wasn’t locked. I climbed into the driver’s seat. The key was still in the ignition. I turned it and the car purred into life. This was my escape. I had to take it. But could I remember how to drive?
30
Then
Jennifer
* * *
I opened Natasha’s overnight bag and took out Emily’s things, laying them on the bed as if for military inspection. Nappies and wet wipes. A stripy vest that fastened in between her legs and a pretty white dress with cap sleeves, both with their labels still on. I pulled them off, but the plastic ties remained. No matter, I thought – she wouldn’t be wearing Asda for long.
Emily was still fast asleep, exhausted by the previous night. In contrast, I hadn’t slept a wink. There was still no word from Nicky and I was at a loss as to what to do next. Should I stay here and wait, or go back to Red How? Nick would be cross if I deviated from the arrangements, and yet … This didn’t feel good.
I emptied out the contents of the overnight bag, and Natasha’s purse and phone fell onto the duvet. It was as if she’d suddenly entered the room, and I recoiled. I needed to get rid of those as soon as possible; they were incredibly incriminating. Just not here, obviously. I picked up the purse and sniffed the soft crimson leather. There wasn’t much cash inside – a ten-pound note and a few coins. Three bank cards, two of them in Nicky’s name, which I knew he’d recently cancelled. A tiny photo of Emily smiled at me from behind its transparent window. Given the lack of teeth, I guessed it had been taken when she was about four or five months old. I glanced over to her sleeping figure in the cot and thought about the thousands of photos I would take of her once this whole wretched thing was over. We would have one of those studio sessions – Nicky, Emily and me in co-ordinated pastel colours, sprawling playfully against a white background. I would have the best shot printed on a giant canvas and hung over the mantelpiece in the living room, like a traditional family portrait.
I was about to prise the photo out when Emily stirred. It had just gone 7 a.m., a very reasonable time for a baby, I judged. Time to attempt my first nappy change. I unfolded the plastic carry-mat and laid it on the bed next to her clothes.
‘Dada?’ She rubbed her eyes with her fists and sat up, blinking at her new surroundings. ‘Dada?’
‘He’ll be here soon,’ I said breezily, going over to the cot and picking her up. She gave me a confused look, as if she didn’t recognise me. ‘Let’s change your nappy and put on some nice clean clothes. Then we can go and eat some lovely breakfast.’ I dreaded to think what revolting muck they’d be serving.
She leaned away from me, frowning. ‘Dada?’
‘Yes, he won’t be long. I’m looking after you now.’
‘Mama?’
‘Yes, that’s me. I’m your mama now. Come along, chicken.’
She winced as I laid her on the cold plastic and tried to wriggle off it. ‘No, no, you have to stay still.’ I wedged her between my thighs and took off her spotty pyjamas, clipping the edge of her nose as I pulled the top over her head. When I reached for the pack of baby wipes, she slipped from my grasp, rolled over and started crawling across the bed. I dragged her back by one ankle, then flippe
d her onto her back. She wasn’t hurt, but her face crumpled and she started to cry.
‘For God’s sake, it’s only a bloody nappy change.’ By now, the wipe had mysteriously disappeared. I pulled out another one, but three more came with it, refusing to be separated. After a cursory clean of her lower half, I lifted her bottom and planted a fresh disposable nappy beneath. Eventually I worked out how to peel off the sticky tapes and stick them roughly equidistant from her belly button. She kicked me in the stomach as I forced on her new vest and dress. By the time I’d done up all the poppers, I was feeling very hot and bothered.
‘Dada?’ Emily said for the twentieth time as she rolled onto her tummy and headed for the edge of the bed.
‘I told you already, he’s on his way.’ I managed to catch her before she dived head first onto the floor, and dumped her back in the cot. ‘You play in there for a few minutes while Mummy has a shower, okay?’
She was not at all in favour of this plan and started to scream. But I didn’t know what else to do with her. I went into the bathroom and shut the door. As usual, it required a plumbing qualification to work out how to alter the temperature of the water. I scalded myself briefly, then jumped out and dried my stinging skin. Instead of feeling refreshed, I felt even sweatier, and I could hear Emily complaining above the whirr of the extractor fan.
Back in the bedroom, I quickly got dressed. She was stamping about in the cot, her face a furious red, the front of the cheap cotton dress soggy with tears.
‘Oh, please stop,’ I said irritably, pulling a brush through my hair. Bags of worry bulged beneath my eyes; I looked a fright. There was no time for my usual skincare routine, but I couldn’t step outside the door without a dash of lippy. ‘I wonder what there’ll be for breakfast?’ I said to Emily’s disapproving reflection in the dressing table mirror. ‘Do you like sausages? There are bound to be sausages. Yum, yum.’ The thought of eating one of those plastic orange frankfurter things made me want to heave, but I carried on brightly, enumerating all the breakfast items I could think of. Emily’s eyes flickered briefly when I mentioned porridge. Maybe that was what she usually had, I thought, throwing my lipstick into my bag. I hoped it was an option in our buffet-style breakfast.
We fought for a few moments over her plastic jelly shoes. She didn’t seem to like wearing them without socks, but Natasha hadn’t packed any and Nicky was bringing the rest of her clothes with him. I bit my lip. What the fuck was he doing? We should have been well on our way back to London by now. I needed him.
Fortunately, the restaurant was virtually empty, save for a couple of men in suits who looked like sales reps and were totally occupied with their phones. And there was indeed porridge, available on a help-yourself basis from what looked like a soup tureen. Unfortunately, it was waxy and solid, and no amount of added milk would break it down.
Emily buttoned her mouth as I tried to push the spoon in. It was hopeless, so I gave her a piece of my almond croissant instead. Her dress was soon covered in greasy smears and her chin glistened with icing sugar. She didn’t seem to think the almond flakes were edible, solemnly picking them off and throwing them on the carpet. I hoped she wasn’t allergic to nuts. Nicky had never mentioned it, but one couldn’t be too careful. The last thing I needed right now was a child in anaphylactic shock.
‘You stay there, sweetie, Mummy’s just going to get herself more coffee,’ I said, ripping off another piece of croissant and laying it enticingly on the high-chair tray. I backed off to the machine and pressed the Americano button. As hot water dribbled grudgingly into my cup, I gave Emily a cheery little wave. She glared at me and didn’t wave back. I hoped nobody had noticed. It was risky being seen in public, but she had to eat. We couldn’t stay in the hotel room all day. If I didn’t book a second night, we’d have to check out by 11 a.m. That was over three hours away. What were we supposed to do?
After breakfast, I took Emily back to the room and attempted to clean her up. Her new dress was already spoilt and there was nothing else for her to wear. I took off her jelly shoes and let her wander around for a bit, exploring the bathroom and crawling under the dressing table. I sat with my feet on the bed, trying to decide what to do. We’d agreed not to phone each other, but … I tried Nicky’s mobile, but it went straight to voicemail and I didn’t leave a message. Dare I ring the landline of the house? I rummaged in my bag for the booking details and dialled the number. It rang out dozens of times before I eventually hung up. Nicky definitely wasn’t still in the house then. Which probably meant he was on his way.
‘Look!’ Emily was holding a lead she’d just removed from the back of the television.
‘For Christ’s sake, you’ll electrocute yourself!’ I snapped, and she burst into tears.
* * *
We stayed in the bedroom until half-eleven, when somebody from reception came to chuck us out. I packed up our things, settled the bill in cash and carried Emily out to the car park. As I strapped her back in – protesting, of course – I made a decision. I couldn’t stand waiting any longer; I had to drive back to Red How and see what was going on.
I opened the windows and let the breeze ruffle across my face as I drove to stop me from feeling drowsy. It was a beautiful sunny morning, and Emily was wide awake and chatty. She pointed out ‘twees’ and sheep in the fields, and when we crossed a river she shouted, ‘Look, sea. Fish! Sea!’ Every so often, she’d stop and think for a bit, then say, ‘Mama? Dada?’ with such hope in her voice it sliced into me. I tried to respond but couldn’t think of what to say. Dark thoughts were swirling through my brain. I was feeling anxious about what I might find at the house.
We hadn’t talked much about how Nicky would do it – he’d said it was better that I didn’t know – but he’d promised it would be quick. We had debated long into the night whether it was necessary to go all the way. Why not just divorce her, I argued, and use his wealth to gain full custody of Emily? But Nicky said the courts nearly always sided with the mother. He’d realised that Natasha would never give her daughter up; she would fight like a mother tiger and it would ruin our lives. It would be better for Emily, too, not to have separated parents.
It all made sense at the time, but I see now that it was crazy. Back then, he’d sounded completely rational, like he’d considered all the available options and made the most appropriate decision. He really thought he was acting in our best interests, sacrificing himself even. ‘Leave it to me,’ he’d said, ‘and I will make it all perfect.’ His words twisted through my body like poison ivy, squeezing all the goodness from my heart.
The steering wheel slipped through my sweaty hands as I turned left onto the track, signposted for Red How. The Range Rover wasn’t where I’d left it – was that a good sign or bad? I slowed the car to a halt and leaned forward in my seat. Had Nicky already driven away, or had he brought the vehicle to the front of the house? Maybe he was still there, packing and clearing up.
I drove on cautiously, rounding the bend and approaching the house. The Range Rover wasn’t there either. We must have crossed with each other, and now he would be annoyed that I wasn’t waiting for him at the motel. I crashed the gears and lifted my foot off the clutch. As I reversed, I glimpsed the front door at the edge of my vision. It looked like it had been left open. I stopped, got out of the car and walked up the steps, fear fluttering in my stomach.
‘Nicky?’ I called, pushing the door further open.
His luggage was in the hallway. I edged forward, raising my voice. ‘Nicky? It’s Jen. Are you okay?’ I walked into the sitting room, but he wasn’t there. Nor was he in the kitchen, and he hadn’t cleared up either. I climbed the stairs, calling his name. I tried every bedroom and even the bathroom, but the house was empty.
No Nicky. No Natasha, either. And no sign of a struggle. Perhaps he was outside; he could even be down at the lake, although why he’d left it until daylight, I couldn’t fathom. Even though there were no neighbours, the plan had always been to do everything under the
cover of darkness.
I went back outside. Emily wanted to get out and was bawling her head off, but I couldn’t see to her now. I set off down the slope behind the house. The grass was long and lush, the earth uneven. There was no path. Trees and flowering bushes looked as if they’d sprung up randomly. My ankles wobbled in my heels as I made my way downhill towards the lake.
‘Nicky?’ I shouted. ‘Where are you?’
31
Then
Natasha
* * *
Mum answered the door. ‘Forgotten your key?’ she said, giving me one of her irritated looks. ‘You’re lucky, I was about to leave the house.’
I stumbled into the narrow hallway and went straight into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. I’d been walking down dusty roads for the last three hours and was dying of thirst.
She followed me and stood with her arms folded in the doorway. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Nothing.’ The water felt cool on my lips. I drank the glass down and instantly refilled it.
Mum rolled her eyes. ‘I’m not stupid, Tash. You look bloody terrible, like you haven’t slept for a week. Your feet are filthy, and where’s your handbag?’
‘I lost it.’
‘Lost it?’ she said sceptically. ‘How?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Something’s wrong,’ she pressed. ‘I’ve been calling and calling but your phone was switched off.’
