‘She seems to be pulling away from me,’ he said eventually. ‘I’m not sure how I’d handle it if we split.’
What? Her heart flipping violently inside her, Jade stared hard at him.
‘I’ve seen the damage a broken home can wreak,’ he went on, plunging his hands in his pockets and walking to the window, staring out at nothing. ‘I don’t want that for my kids,’ he admitted, his voice tight.
And Jade’s heart settled clunkily back into its moorings.
And he wouldn’t have to, she decided, steeling her resolve. There would be no broken-home scenario. Angel was hers. She loved her. She was her child. She would never see her without her father. He must know that. Poppy, who was now grating seriously on her nerves, she hadn’t made up her mind about yet, but she could tolerate her, at least for a short while, if Mark was really going to be so heartbroken without her.
‘Crap!’ Mark said suddenly, moving away from the window and heading for the door.
Jade started after him, and then, realising Evie was crying, rushed into the hall. ‘I’ll go,’ she said, catching his arm as he mounted the stairs. ‘You’ve had one or two whiskies,’ she pointed out kindly, searching his eyes. Such troubled eyes, it tore at her heart.
Mark nodded and stepped back down, a little unsteadily on his feet, Jade noted. ‘One or two too many,’ he admitted, looking ashamed.
‘I think you probably needed them,’ Jade sympathised. ‘I’ll look in on Melissa as soon as I’ve settled Evie. Why don’t you have a lie down on the sofa? You’re obviously a bit tiddly. It might be an idea not to disturb her tonight.’
* * *
Knowing Melissa would be cooped up in the workshop for some time, Jade finished her tasks in the kitchen the next morning. She’d struggled a bit with the U-bend under the sink, but the lump of clay was now successfully wedged in place.
Having realised she needed to bring things to a head, Jade had lain awake in the night pondering how, and finally come to a conclusion. She had to shatter Mark’s white knight image once and for all, make Melissa believe that he wasn’t the perfect husband she had always thought. But the woman wouldn’t go of her own volition, not without the children, and Jade would never allow her to take Angel. Nor would Mark. He was obviously scared for his fragile demented wife, but his children came first. If Melissa wasn’t going to leave willingly without them, then Jade had to make sure she left unwillingly.
To which end, she had to make sure that Mark started being less concerned for his wife and more concerned for himself. He had to get good and angry, and Melissa needed to see it, to realise how utterly disillusioned with her he was. She had to learn that he was concerned for his children, as any caring father would be, and that having her sectioned might be his only option. Melissa would react, of course – irrationally and violently, hopefully. Yes, the more she pondered, the more she liked the idea. Melissa would go, and soon, one way or another.
And Jade would step seamlessly into her shoes.
We’ll all be together soon, sweetheart. She mentally addressed her precious Angel. Just you, me and Daddy. Won’t that be lovely?
But what about Poppy? She was already a needy child, and she would only get worse with her mother gone. Jade knitted her brow. She hadn’t considered that until now. She would have to get rid of her. There was no other option. But… Mark doted on her. He would be inconsolable.
Yes, but then he would need an awful lot of comforting, wouldn’t he? Jade’s mouth curved into a smile at the prospect of that. And if she got pregnant soon, which she would, after sex, sex and more sex, Mark would soon have something else to occupy his mind.
Checking the wall clock – she needed to be off soon if she was going to enlist Dylan’s help in getting rid of Daisy – Jade made the tea, and then reached up to the cupboard to extract Melissa’s tablets, popping one in the cup and one on the tray, which Melissa would dutifully swallow.
She’d take her a biscuit, too. There wasn’t a lot of point in the woman watching her figure, after all, when Mark was clearly appreciating the view elsewhere.
Now, what had she forgotten? Ah, yes. The vodka, Melissa’s tipple of choice – the perfect drink for an alcoholic trying to hide the smell of booze on their breath. Humming happily, Jade went to the hall to extract the half-litre bottle from her handbag, one of several she’d purchased, and then, removing the top, she headed to the downstairs toilet to tip a good measure down the sink. Going back to the kitchen, she placed what now appeared a half-drunk bottle in the under-sink cupboard, far enough back to be hidden. Until one emptied the cupboard, that was, which Mark would have to do in order to unblock the pipe and avert a disaster.
Thirty-Eight
MELISSA
‘It’s open,’ Mel called, hearing a tap on the workshop door, and then, realising it could only be Jade, who’d no doubt come bearing tea and biscuits, she wiped the clay from her hands and walked over to open it.
‘How’s it going?’ Jade asked, with her usual radiant smile.
Mel smiled back, rather less joyously. ‘Painfully.’
Holding the door for Jade to come in, she beckoned to Hercules, who’d decided she preferred curling up in the workshop during the day, rather than in the kitchen with Jade. Mel couldn’t fathom why the dog had taken a dislike to the poor girl, growling if ever she was around her. As Jade had said, it was probably because she was nervous around dogs, having been bitten by one as a child. The dog obviously sensed it, she’d suggested. Still though, it was a bit of a mystery, Hercules being such a placid animal.
‘Come on, girl, outside.’ She beckoned again to the dog, who was watching Jade warily as she deposited the tray. ‘Hercules, come on,’ Mel tried, patting her thigh when the dog didn’t budge. She was growing irritated, she realised. She was doing that a lot lately – not surprising, when she was so perpetually exhausted. She felt like a zombie. Maybe she should ask Dr Meadows about changing her medication, or reducing the dose? Her nightmares were terrifying, and so real, as if she were living the dreams and the daytime was an illusion. Mel knew she’d terrified Mark, too, on several occasions, screaming out in her sleep. The last thing she wanted, though, was to resort to taking sleeping tablets on top of antidepressants, which was her only option if either of them were going to get a decent night’s sleep.
‘All right. You can go out later. But don’t blame me if you end up crossing your paws.’ Mel sighed, closing the door, and walked across to where Jade was looking her sculpture over, probably coming to the same conclusion Mel had.
She was sculpting like a zombie too.
‘You’ve finished it,’ Jade said with enthusiasm. ‘Well done, Mel.’
‘Finished, yes, but unfortunately not so well done.’ Emitting another sigh, Mel surveyed her endeavours with a critical eye. Her couple seemed to be holding on to each other in petrified desperation, rather than loving embrace. Where was the passion? The sensuality? The desire?
‘But it’s beautiful.’ Jade sounded surprised. ‘Really evocative.’
‘Evocative of what though?’ Mel said glumly. ‘They’re supposed to be in post-coital ecstasy, limbs, hearts and bodies entwined, two lovers as one, not two people grieving.’
Jade considered her passionless lovers quietly for a moment. ‘Maybe he wasn’t up to the job.’
It took Mel a second to catch up. ‘Oh God.’ She laughed. ‘More work needed then?’
Jade shrugged noncommittally. ‘Well, I think it’s fab, but I know it won’t be right until you’re happy with it. I’ll leave you to massage his ego,’ she said, turning for the door. ‘I thought I’d go out for a while before collecting Poppy.’
‘Oh?’ Mel tried to quell an immediate sense of panic. Panic that she’d be left alone to care for her baby, she realised, with an overwhelming sense of dismay.
‘I’m off to the DIY store,’ Jade went on, oblivious. ‘I thought I’d try and get a few ideas for the cottage, if ever the work gets underway. Don’t worry, I’ll tak
e Evie with me so you can get on.’
Mel’s panic gave way to relief, followed swiftly by trepidation. What would she do when Jade wasn’t here on a permanent basis? How on earth would she cope?
Jade paused at the door. ‘What do you fancy for dinner? I could pop by the supermarket and get something nice, if you—’
‘No!’ Mel said quickly. And then she stopped herself, taking a deep breath. What the bloody hell was wrong with her? She had to get a grip! Of course she’d cope. Evie was her child. She loved her with her very bones. She’d lost her way, that was all. Postnatal depression wasn’t something she should feel ashamed of, or guilty about. She simply needed to find her way back, to regain control of her emotions, her life, her child. One step at a time.
Calming herself, she glanced towards Jade, who was blinking bemusedly in her direction. ‘I thought I’d cook tonight,’ Mel explained. ‘I’m really grateful for all your help, Jade. I’m sure we’d have starved without you, but it’s not fair to expect you to do it every night. You’re already doing far too much.’
‘I don’t mind.’
‘I insist,’ Mel said, with a decisive nod. ‘It will give you a break, and, to be honest, I could do with a break from my moody lovers.’
‘No problem,’ Jade said, smiling understandingly. ‘So, what will you cook?’
Mel thought about it. ‘Spaghetti bolognese,’ she decided. She could defrost the mince in the microwave and she probably had the other ingredients in. Enough to make a reasonably tasty dish anyway, served up with garlic bread, which Poppy and Mark both adored.
‘Perfect.’ Jade said, looking impressed. ‘And I’ll be around, so you can give me a shout if you need a hand.’
Mel steeled her determination to do nothing of the sort as Jade bounced brightly out of the door. She could manage to produce a meal in her own kitchen, for God’s sake.
Meanwhile… Her clay man needed more than his ego massaging, she fancied. He needed major surgery.
With the kiln still not working properly – meaning she’d have to transport everything to the university and beg the use of their kiln – she’d be more behind than ever if she started over, but… It was no good. The piece was substandard. Sliding her sad lovers reluctantly into the bin, she went to fetch a fresh lump of clay, which she could at least knead in readiness to start afresh tomorrow. Leaving the biscuit unguarded, however, with a Labrador in sniffing distance, turned out to be a fatal mistake.
‘Hercules! Bad girl!’ Mel scolded the dog, dumping her clay and tugging at her collar. But the dog resisted her attempts to heave her away, knocking the cup over and lapping greedily at the dregs. ‘Out. Go on, out!’ She marched the dog to the door, ready to throw her out. She was furious, and no one could accuse her of getting this out of proportion. What if Hercules jumped up to snatch at Poppy’s food? Or, God forbid, she tried to take food from Evie?
That dog really was getting away with too much. Sleeping on Poppy’s bed with Evie only yards away across the landing might even be too risky. But Mark seemed to have this hare-brained idea that Hercules would protect her if they were broken into. The only chance of that would be if the dog licked a burglar to death.
Honestly, if Mark was going to allow her the run of the house the least he could do was train her. If he couldn’t do that, then he should think about rehoming her. Jade had rehomed her cat quickly enough, after all, she thought crossly, retrieving the cup from the floor and finding it was cracked. Muttering, Mel crashed the cup back on to the tray – and then stopped, and breathed, realising her anger was escalating. It was a cup. Not even an expensive cup. God, was she really getting things so out of proportion, again, that she was contemplating letting Hercules go to complete strangers?
She thought of the ease with which Jade had got rid of her cat. Mel still couldn’t help wondering how the animal had disappeared so quickly. Surely she wouldn’t have had the poor thing put down? No, she said friends had taken it.
Feeling more guilty than ever that she’d considered Jade capable of having the cat disposed of in such a way despite her determination to give that particular emotion short shrift, Mel turned to mop up the tray, only to realise the capsule she should have taken was soggy with tea, its powdered contents spewing out.
On the bright side, at least Hercules hadn’t swallowed it. Despairing of herself, Mel shifted the tray out of the way and set about taking her frustration out on her lump of clay. She’d take another tablet when she went in to make dinner, which hopefully wouldn’t turn out to be as disastrous as everything else she attempted to do.
Thirty-Nine
JADE
Oh, you have to be joking! Jade stopped short of the cottage, realising that Dylan’s mother really was talking to the pigs. And not just in a ‘Who’s a pretty porkie?’ sort of way either. She was having a whole fucking conversation with them. Obviously, she was as soft in the head as her drippy son was.
‘Careless farming they said it was, Inky,’ the woman was saying mournfully. ‘Said we’d managed our farm in a way that encouraged floods. I’ve never heard the likes. Killed my Charlie, they did, worked him to death, with their rules and regulations. Left me with nothing. Except our Dylan, of course.’
Sighing forlornly, the woman stopped and gazed off over the fields. Probably contemplating suicide, Jade thought despairingly, if Dylan was all she’d got.
‘I’ll be glad to see the back of the place,’ the woman went on, bending to pick up a metal bucket full of foul-smelling swill to chuck to the beasts.
Ugh, disgusting. Jade screwed up her nose. It was probably the leftovers of the piglets they’d given birth to. Where the hell was Dylan? Realising there was no sign of the man – who was obviously more moronic than she’d suspected, allowing his mother to wander around with the girl not thirty feet away – she stepped quickly forwards. The woman hadn’t got a key, but God forbid she got it into her head to go peering through the windows.
‘Morning, Mrs Jackson,’ Jade said brightly, at which the woman jumped, literally, and whirled around, dropping her bucket in the process.
‘Is Dylan here?’ Jade asked, wearing her sweetest smile.
A hand clutched to her ample chest, Mrs Jackson took several slow breaths and then narrowed her eyes. ‘Why?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘I thought I’d ask him if he fancied going into the village,’ Jade improvised. She wouldn’t be seen dead with him in the village, or anywhere else for that matter.
‘Why?’ the woman repeated.
‘Because we’re friends, Mrs Jackson,’ Jade said patiently.
Mrs Jackson folded her arms and cocked her head to one side. ‘Right. And my Inky’s priming his wings as we speak,’ she said, attempting to be clever, which really didn’t suit someone dressed in crap-covered dungarees and whose personal hygiene was obviously on a par with her son’s. Mind you, Jade could understand her cynicism. Dylan, who only ever attracted the wrong sort of attention, had about as many friends as he had brain cells.
‘He looks out for me, Mrs Jackson,’ Jade explained, less patiently. Evie was asleep in the car. The window was open, so she’d hear her if she cried, but even so, she hadn’t got all bloody day. ‘I feel safe with him when other idiots come sniffing around.’
Mrs Jackson arched an eyebrow at that, obviously trying to work out whether Jade was being sincere.
‘Is he home?’ Jade asked again, growing perturbed now. Surely Dylan hadn’t actually gone off the premises and left the girl on her own?
‘He’s fixing the barn roof,’ the woman said, turning disinterestedly away.
Jade stared at the rude bitch’s back. And then – oh fuck – past her to a movement at the cottage’s upstairs window. The girl was walking around. If she looked out of the window, the woman was bound to spot her.
* * *
Irritated, having been delayed while she took necessary action to ensure Mrs Jackson didn’t discover the girl, Jade parked outside the pub and texted Dylan back. He was w
orried, because his mother had apparently gone out without telling him. Definitely tied to her apron strings. Jade shook her head despairingly.
She obviously couldn’t find you. She’s probably visiting friends, or gone shopping or something. Bit tied up with children today. See you tomorrow first thing.
She would have to be there early, she decided. She couldn’t have him throwing a wobbly now. She needed him. As well as helping her move the girl, she had other plans that required Dylan’s participation. He was tall and dark, and therefore easily mistaken for Mark at the wheel of Mel’s car. He was going to need careful handling, though, with lots of physical and emotional reassurance.
One eye on the entrance to the pub, she waited patiently for her phone to ping back a reply and then breathed out a sigh of relief when it did.
Okay. C U then. Xxx
Rolling her eyes at his use of abbreviated text words, and fully expecting him to text again before the day was out, Jade sent him a smiley face back, with three reciprocal kisses, and then emitted a sigh of relief as DS Cummings exited the pub, bang on cue. Having googled his details and then followed him, she’d learned he liked a pint with his lunch, and one or two once he was off duty. He was also obviously everything she’d overheard Mark confiding to Melissa he was – a womanising, sexist wanker, led by his penis, which, Jade suspected, would make him just as malleable as Dylan.
Waiting for the right moment, Jade watched him pause in the car park, picking his teeth and leering after two scantily clad girls half his age as they teetered on vertiginous shoes towards their car. ‘Hope you’ve been watching your alcohol intake, Taylor,’ he called after them. ‘Wouldn’t want me having to arrest you now, would you?’
The Babysitter Page 18
