‘Where’s Owen?’ I suddenly dawned on me that he wasn’t with them and I felt a surge of panic.
‘We left him upstairs doing homework.’ Robbie nodded towards the first floor and I felt my shoulders relax. At least they weren’t taking him.
‘Well, go on then. What are you waiting for? You know where the door is.’ I turned my back on them and started to walk towards the kitchen. The last thing I heard was the door shut loudly as my two eldest children walked out of my life.
That evening when the rain had sent most of the journalist running for cover I ducked out of the house and went to the shop to buy some supplies. I told Owen that his brother and sister had gone to stay with friends for the night and that he had to stay put in the house. He was under strict instructions not to answer the door.
I walked through the cold evening rain getting soaked, despite my so-called waterproof jacket. Shaking myself off outside the door I went in, trying to hide my face from the man behind the till in the Esso garage and the only other customer in there. If felt as if the whole world was against me but they didn’t look at me twice, for which I was extremely grateful. My trainers were wet and squelched as I made my way down the narrow aisle in search of something to eat. I went straight to the frozen section and picked up a couple of pizzas. Owen liked pizza and it was easy. I never was much of a cook.
The only other item on my list was cider. I wasn’t a big drinker but it had been a very difficult day and I didn’t think there was much chance I’d sleep. Cider was to be my short cut to the Land of Nod.
As I approached the till I saw the newspaper stand on my left hand side. Curious to know what the local press, was reporting, I picked up a copy of the Cambridge Evening News and put it down on the counter. Pulling a damp ten-pound note out of my pocket I paid for the goods and left the shop.
On my walk home the newspaper grew heavy as it absorbed the rain. I tried not to think about the ink running down the pages. It only reminded me of Sue-Ann’s face after I hit her. It had been a rubbish day but I told myself that tomorrow would be better. It certainly couldn’t get any worse.
July 21st 1991
I was standing in the kitchen warming some milk for Owen when the news came on the radio. Stirring the formula into the warm water I listened to the local headlines. There had been a crash on the A14 and the road was partially closed heading east. Nothing new there. It was lethal. People were always having accidents on that road.
As the smell from the milk drifted up with the steam I turned my face away. I hated the sickly sweet odour of it. It reminded me of the nasty rice pudding that used to be served at the school canteen.
Owen was gurgling in his pram by the back door, eagerly anticipating his next meal, as I tested the temperature of the milk by placing a few drops on my wrist. Still too warm. He would have to wait for five minutes.
‘…In other news, a healthcare worker was left in a critical condition by an attacker who struck as she left Addenbrooke’s Hospital at the end of her shift. Police are linking the incident to the so-called Eye-Sight Killer. And now over to Angela for the weather…’
Checking the temperature of the milk again I finally deemed it suitable for Owen. I wheeled his pram over and pulled a chair up close to it. He lay on his back, his little feet kicking the air as I guided the rubber teat into his mouth and I watched as his blue eyes rolled back into his head with pleasure. He was a happy little soul.
When the last drop of milk had been drained from the bottle I stood up and rocked the pram backwards and forwards. Afternoon sunlight was flooding in through the window into his eyes so I lifted the hood to shade him from the brightness.
In the kitchen the washing machine was on and spinning at full speed but the noise didn’t seem to worry Owen and he started to drift off, happy with his bellyful.
When I was sure he was in a deep enough sleep I rolled the pram out into the garden and parked it in the shadow of the fence. It was building up to be a warm summer and I thought the fresh air would do him some good.
Returning to the kitchen and leaving the back door open so I could hear if he stirred, I turned the volume of the radio up and opened a packet of chocolate biscuits. ‘The Shoop Shoop Song’ by Cher filled the room and I nodded my head along with the words, feeling good for the first time in a while.
Since our talk a few weeks earlier Larry had perked up. He was back to being the man I loved. My scars were well on their way to being healed and thing seemed brighter. Robbie and Sue-Ann were both spending a few hours a day at nursery and so I had time to myself. Owen wasn’t very much work. He just slept, pooped and ate. It was easy really. At last I felt I had more control over my life.
Munching on my biscuit I thought about how I was going to fill my days. Now that I’d given up ‘work’ and the two eldest weren’t constantly under my feet, the days looked to be pretty empty.
I missed Trisha. I didn’t regret falling out with her but I wished things had been different. It had been five years since our argument and I hadn’t spoken to her since. Sitting at my kitchen table I wondered how different my life would have been if I had returned to working at Woolworths.
Larry had a career, a job he loved and was respected by people. I would never be that person. I’d only ever had one job, working in that scabby store. Then I’d met Larry and my whole world changed. I got married, became a mother, and then… Then I started to make money another way. I wondered when I decided that was an acceptable thing to do. It seems strange but I’d never stopped to think about it until then. It was just something I did. I didn’t question it.
From the outside we looked like such a reputable couple. He was an optician and I was… I was the little wife. We had a nice house, a caravan and money to spare. It all looked so tidy. But there was another side to us, to our marriage – A side that would have shocked most people.
Ever since losing my virginity to Larry our sex life was a dominant force in our relationship. We did things that others would have disapproved of. Our appetites were insatiable and we experimented. I discovered a side of myself that I had no idea existed. It was as if I’d been in a deep sleep and meeting Larry awoke something in me. Thinking about it that way it made sense that I ended up making money the way I did. It was the obvious step for me to take and became another thrill – for both of us. Our dirty little secret, he used to say. And it was. It was our private world that no one else ever saw. Yes, the punters were there but they always felt more like extras flitting in and out.
Still, even though I missed the excitement of it I was glad that part of my life was over and done with. It didn’t fit with the image we wanted to portray to the outside world.
So instead of using the spare bedroom as a sex den we started to store marijuana plants in there. Before long we had a little farm growing. The money from our sales more than covered what I used to make. Sure it stank a bit but that wasn’t a big problem. We only kept it up for a little while. Just until we had enough money to afford to give up growing it.
Larry had a deal with a friend of Eric’s. We supplied it directly to him and he took the risk of dealing. We didn’t want people coming and going from the house any more. The kids were older and wiser then. It wasn’t good to have shifty characters hanging around. The neighbours could have started to notice and that would have been a problem. We wanted to remain under the radar. It’s no one else’s business, Dee, Larry would say. We aren’t doing any harm. And we weren’t. Not really.
Leaving Owen sleeping peacefully in the garden I took myself upstairs to get changed. It was a hot day and I’d been sweating. My dress needed changing. Pushing our bedroom door open with my foot I started to peel the dress off over my head. I could smell the faint stink of body odour and reached for a can of spray-on deodorant before looking for something fresh to wear. The cold mist felt good against my under arms and the room filled with the smell of clean linen. Bundling my stale dress up into a ball I dropped it into the
overflowing laundry basket. I’d get round to doing the washing at some point. Standing in my underwear enjoying the cool breeze that came in from the slit in the open window I spotted my reflection in the bedroom mirror. My large stomach sagged and I could see a deep red scar left over from the C-section. It was an unattractive sight. My breasts were too big for my bra and bulged over the top of them threatening to show my nipples. I lifted my arms up and stood there looking like Jesus on the cross, just a much larger female version. The weight hung off my arms in sacks. When did I get so fat?
Not wanting to look at myself for a moment longer I dropped my arms to my side and went to rummage through my wardrobe. It was a mess. Most of the clothes had fallen off the hangers and lay in a crumpled pile on the floor. Searching through like a mad woman on the opening day of the January sales, I came across an item of clothing I hadn’t seen for some time and held it up. The crinkled slip was the one I wore the first time I had sex for money. Horrid visions of John Boyle’s mouth on my face came flooding back and I knew then how glad I was that I no longer did that.
Getting up off my knees I dashed over to the chest of drawers and removed a pair of hair cutting scissors from the dusty top. Frantically I cut and tore at the lace slip until it was a small pile at my feet. I was shaking all over by the time I’d finished destroying the item and I had to sit down on the bed for a moment to catch my breath.
Staring at the pieces of destroyed fabric it dawned on me that Larry and I hadn’t had sex for a while. Not since before Owen was born. That bitch doctor had seen to that with her botched operation. But then I remembered my disgust at my reflection and wondered if Larry would ever want to sleep with me again anyway. He had a ravenous sex drive that needed to be fed. If he wasn’t getting it at home was he going elsewhere? He’d not laid a hand on me in weeks. I’d been too tired to notice but now that I was feeling better I was flooded with horror and suddenly I knew he must have been sleeping with someone else.
Like a woman possessed I started to through his clothes pockets looking for evidence. In ten minutes flat I had turned the whole room upside down but found nothing. Standing there, still in my underwear, I was hit by a wave of misery. And then I remembered the time. I was going to be late collecting Sue-Ann and Robbie from nursery. Cursing myself for getting so distracted I returned to my wardrobe and pulled a clean turquoise dress from the pile. It needed ironing but I didn’t have time.
Taking two steps at a time I descended the stair, grabbed my handbag off a hook in the hallway and left through the front door. It was only when I saw one of the other mother’s pushing a pram on her way to collect her child that I remembered Owen.
Not wanting to show the panic I felt, I walked calmly towards the entrance and waited for the children to come out. I reminded myself it was only a five-minute walk home and that he would be fine. The chances were that he was still fast asleep in his pram.
‘Not got the baby with you today?’ The other mother was wearing sunglasses and had tanned shoulders. I couldn’t remember her name.
‘Er, no. Erm, my sister has him.’ I swallowed hard, feeling the lie stick in my throat.
Before I had to embellish any further the door opened and the children all came running out, holding bright finger paintings.
Not wanting to waste time I took a child in each hand and marched them back down the road.
‘Ow, Mummy,’ Robbie was digging his heels into the pavement and slowing our progress, ‘that hurts.’
‘Hurry up and walk now.’ The look I gave him told him he’d better do as I asked. He picked up speed and, half-running, managed to keep up. Sue-Ann skipped along happily talking to me all about her time at nursery. I wasn’t really listening. I was desperate to get home to Owen and noticed I was sweating again. My brow was damp and my armpits felt soggy.
When we reached our road I noticed Dawn’s little red Renault parked outside. I swore under my breath and rushed into the house. She had a key. We had given it to her a few weeks earlier so she could let herself in when she was helping out.
‘Hello?’ I called out letting go of the kid’s hands and ushering them into the lounge. Flicking on the TV I told them to sit quietly and watch some cartoons.
‘Hello?’ I called out again, aware of the increasing knot in my stomach. I headed for the kitchen.
‘In here.’ Dawn sounded stern. Daisy was sitting in the high chair scribbling with some crayons and Dawn was cradling Owen in her arms.
Wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my arm I said hello and offered her a cup of tea.
‘What the hell were you thinking?’ she hissed.
‘What are you talking about?’ I decided that playing innocent was my only option.
‘Owen, he was on his own. Where did you go?’
‘Oh,’ I washed my hands in the sink for something to do so I wouldn’t have to look at her, ‘he was having a nap and I didn’t want to disturb him. I was only gone for a couple of minutes.’
‘Only a couple of minutes? Why didn’t you take him with you? He was in the pram. He would have stayed asleep. All you had to do was wheel him out. What is wrong with you?’
‘I really think you’re over-reacting,’ the sweat continued to pour down my face and showed no signs of relenting.
‘Overreacting? Are you thick? He could have been stung by a bee. The pram could have tipped over. Anything could have happened!’
‘Don’t talk to me like that Dawn!’ I span around growling at her. ‘He’s my son. Just because you’ve got a kid you think you’re bloody Dr Miriam Stoppard.’
Just then Larry appeared in the kitchen.
‘Everything all right, ladies?’ his eyebrows were raised and he’d obviously heard the yelling.
‘Fine.’ I glared at Dawn.
‘Hello, gorgeous,’ Larry bent down and kissed her on the cheek. I could have sworn I saw her blush.
‘How’s your day been?’ he slid over to me grinning.
‘Fine.’ I dried my hands on a grubby tea-towel. But things were not fine and I was determined to get to the bottom of what was bothering me. ‘You’re back early.’ I glanced at the clock on the wall.
‘The shop was really quiet and Rook told me to knock off early. So here I am, with my two favourite ladies.’ I didn’t like him feeding Dawn’s ego especially given the fact that we had just had words.
‘You’re not staying for dinner, are you Dawn.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘No,’ she wriggled in her chair, ‘I’ve got to get back to Ian.’
‘The perfect wife.’ I muttered under my breath. Larry flashed a look at me but I don’t think Dawn heard.
‘Well,’ Larry tucked him thumb into his dark grey trouser pockets, ‘he’s a lucky man.’
Again I thought I saw Dawn blush.
‘Put the kettle on, Dee, I’m parched.’ He went and pulled up a chair and took Owen out of Dawn’s arms. ‘How’s the little man today?’ Larry asked no one in particular. Dawn folded her arms, tucked her chin in and gave me a look.
‘He’s fine.’ I dropped a teabag into a mug and ignored her. ‘No trouble at all.’
‘Good little lad.’ Larry kissed Owen on the crown of his head. ‘That’s my boy.’
Looking at them both then I knew in my bones that Larry wasn’t his father.
January 24th 1998
I was hung-over. Badly. Especially for someone who wasn’t a drinker. So when there was incessant knocking on the front door at six-eleven in the morning I wasn’t happy. With the taste of flat cider still washing around my mouth I hardly remember opening the door.
‘We have a warrant.’ He held the piece of paper out but I couldn’t focus.
‘Warrant for what?’
‘To search the cellar.’ DS Small had an arrogant grin plastered across his face. I wanted to hit him.
‘Come in. Never mind my kid. That’s irrelevant isn’t it?’ My sarcasm wasn’t lost on him
�
��Sorry, ma’am. Just doing my job.’ But it was more than that. We both knew it. It was personal.
As he entered the hallway I stopped him and his team.
‘I want to read it.’ I stood in hallway wearing the same clothes I’d been in yesterday and tried to feign control. ‘Show me or you aren’t going any further.’ I held my leg up against the wall just like a petulant child. If they touched me, I would cry assault.
‘Here.’ DS Small eyeballed me. His lack of fear was disturbing.
‘I want my lawyer.’ I pretended to run my eye over the paperwork. ‘Otherwise you aren’t coming in.’
‘That’s the whole point of a warrant, Mrs Miller.’ Small stood there looking smug. ‘You don’t have to agree. You don’t really have a choice.’ Behind him a group of officers sniggered.
‘Fine,’ I couldn’t think of a clever comeback. ‘But I don’t have to stand here and watch.’ I was thinking the words but couldn’t be sure I was saying them. I vowed never to drink again. ‘Don’t be such a prick.’ Did I really say that? ‘Let me get my boy and leave before you turn the place upside down.’
If Small had had his way the humiliation would have continued but luckily there was a reasonable person on his team, who convinced him to behave decently.
‘You understand there must be someone who accompanies you at all times?’ The little man stepped forward. ‘You are welcome to get your son and leave but I must accompany you.’
Standing still, blocking the entrance I threatened him with my stare.
‘Miss.’ His soft voice won me over.
‘Fine.’ I moved aside. ‘Come in and do what you want. But I’m telling you I’m watching. The world is watching.’ I realised how pathetic I sounded but it was too late.
The policeman looked at me. His pity was unwelcome. I didn’t need his kindness. How dare he.
‘Get your boy, miss,’ the little officer kept trying to be kind.
The Optician’s Wife: a compelling new psychological thriller Page 15
