The Babysitter

by Sheryl Browne

  Melissa looked at her in surprise. ‘My car?’

  ‘It’s dated two o’clock in the morning,’ Jade went on, as Mel found it and read it. ‘And as I was back here by ten thirty, obviously I was concerned.’

  Melissa scanned it, her expression growing more puzzled by the second.

  ‘Particularly when I noted the location.’

  Melissa still looked puzzled. Gormless cow, she probably wasn’t familiar with the area, even though she was a policeman’s wife. Honestly. ‘It’s in the red-light district.’ Mentally rolling her eyes, Jade waited for the significance to sink in.

  ‘I thought maybe someone had stolen the car. You know, for joyriding or something.’

  Got her, Jade thought, supremely pleased as Melissa’s expression turned to disbelief, swiftly followed by palpable fury.

  ‘What, and then returned it?’ she seethed. ‘No doubt they washed and valeted it too! That absolute bastard!’

  Poppy, who’d been blissfully sleeping, oblivious to the trouble she’d caused, shot up. ‘Mummy, what’s wrong?’ she asked, kneading her eyes worriedly.

  ‘Nothing,’ Melissa said shortly, finally managing to stand upright. Pretty quickly, all credit to her. Jade watched interestedly.

  ‘But Mummeee, why are you angry?’ Poppy whined, shuffling towards the edge of the bed to go after her.

  ‘I’m not!’ Melissa snapped. Then she closed her eyes and drew in a tight breath. ‘I’m not, sweetheart,’ she said, attempting a smile. ‘Mummy has a headache, that’s all. Go with Jade, darling. I have some things I need to do.’

  ‘Come on, Poppet.’ Jade extended her hand. ‘You can help me feed Evie.’

  Poppy’s gaze flicked worriedly to Jade. ‘But I don’t want to,’ she whimpered, bringing her knees up and shuffling towards the headboard, as though trying to make herself smaller. Yes, and Jade knew why.

  ‘Go!’ Melissa barked. ‘Now, Poppy, before I lose my temper.’

  ‘Come on, Poppet, come with me.’ Smiling reassuringly as Melissa turned back to whatever mad mission she was on, Jade walked towards the bed. She plucked up the speeding ticket, stuffing it in her pocket, before grabbing hold of the disobedient little brat’s arm. Poppy was shuffling further away, her face set in that infuriating petulant scowl she had.

  ‘We’ll watch a nice DVD later. How does that sound?’ Jade asked her sweetly, all but dragging a tearful Poppy to the door. Melissa, fortunately, was too busy pulling Mark’s clothes out of the wardrobe and going through pockets to notice.

  Once on the landing, Jade whirled Poppy around to face her and leaned in to eyeball her meaningfully. ‘Who did your father say was in charge?’ she hissed, squeezing the child’s arm hard.

  Poppy gulped back a sob. ‘You,’ she answered tremulously.

  ‘That’s right,’ Jade growled. ‘Now, do not cause me any trouble, sweetheart. Not unless you want me to tell your daddy you’ve been stealing. And, trust me, you don’t want me to do that. He’s already very annoyed with you.’

  Fifty-Nine

  MARK

  As he came through the front door, Mark knew there was something wrong. Poppy didn’t come bounding excitedly to him. Instead, thumb in mouth, she sloped dejectedly towards him, glancing warily over her shoulder as she did.

  ‘What’s up, Poppet?’ Dumping his carrier bag, Mark crouched down to her level.

  Poppy scanned his eyes, her own uncertain and… guarded?

  ‘Poppy?’ Mark eyed her questioningly.

  ‘Mummy’s angry,’ Poppy whispered, her wide eyes now brimming with tears.

  Mark looked to Jade, who had appeared in the kitchen doorway. Evie in her arms, she shrugged helplessly and then looked nervously upwards as something crashed onto the floorboards above them.

  ‘Stay here, sweetheart,’ Mark said, giving Poppy a reassuring smile. ‘Do as Jade says. I’ll be back in a minute.’

  Heading swiftly up, Mark went straight to the main bedroom, not bothering to knock.

  ‘Mel? What in God’s name are you doing?’ he asked, bewildered, as he saw Mel picking up clothes from the pile strewn on the bed. His clothes. ‘Melissa…’ Anger unfurled inside him as he watched her go through his pockets, tossing aside a pair of trousers and picking up another pair. ‘Would you like to tell me what’s going on here?’ he asked, now trying very hard not to lose it.

  Mel didn’t answer him, just kept right on searching. But for what?

  ‘Melissa! What the hell are you looking for?’

  ‘I don’t know!’ Mel’s expression as she glared at him was one of sheer contempt. ‘Why don’t you tell me?’ She threw one of his jackets down and picked up another item. Realising it was a shirt and would yield nothing, she dropped that to the growing pile on the floor

  Mark felt his jaw tense, felt his life slipping away from him, like sand through a timer. ‘You need to stop this, Mel – now,’ he said, making no attempt to hide his growing fury.

  Mel ignored him. ‘What will I find, Mark, hey?’ She walked stiffly over to his dressing table drawers, dragging them out to spew the contents onto the shirts. ‘Condoms?’ she spat. ‘Lube? Tell me’ – she whirled around – ‘what other dirty little secrets am I likely to find?’

  What the…? Mark was stunned, in utter disbelief at this new twist in the madness. ‘Mel, stop,’ he said shakily. ‘You need to talk to me.’

  ‘You do use condoms, I take it?’ Mel spat venomously. She was killing him. She was fucking well crucifying him.

  ‘Mel! Stop!’ Mark caught hold of her arm, but Mel yanked it away.

  ‘Or is it more of a turn-on fucking prostitutes naked?’

  ‘For God’s sake! Where the hell is this coming from? You’re completely insane.’

  ‘Ha! Oh, yes, of course I am,’ Mel yelled, gesticulating wildly. ‘It’s all in my mind, isn’t it? I’m imagining it all, aren’t I?’

  Mark didn’t speak. He couldn’t. His temper was way too close to spilling over.

  ‘Just like I imagined your sordid little affair with Lisa!’

  Mark ran his hand hopelessly through his hair. He had no idea what to do. None.

  ‘Did I imagine you’ve been overmedicating me? Putting extra drugs in my drinks? Did I imagine that?’

  ‘What?’ Mark looked sharply back at her. ‘Look, Mel,’ he moved towards her, felt the foundations rock this time, crumbling beneath him. ‘I don’t know what you think I’ve done, but can we please—’

  ‘Do not try to deny it!’ Mel stepped back. ‘I have evidence!’

  ‘Evidence of what?’ Mark yelled, torn between guilt and gut-wrenching despair as he watched his wife dementedly dragging clothes from the bed, fumbling around, picking up envelopes, tearing them up.

  ‘God!’ She stopped, clutching handfuls of her hair. ‘Evidence of your nocturnal activities,’ she seethed, turning towards him. ‘Your therapeutic trips out at night, kerb-crawling.’

  Kerb-crawling? Mark felt his stomach turn over. ‘Fuck,’ he uttered, his anger shifting as he realised there was only one place any sort of so-called evidence could have come from. Cummings, the bastard. The photos he’d taken. It had to be. ‘It’s bullshit, Mel,’ he said. ‘Whatever you’ve seen or heard, it’s—’

  ‘You make me sick.’ Mel looked him over, disgusted. ‘Get out.’

  ‘Mel, you need to listen,’ Mark tried, taking another step towards her. ‘There is no way—’

  ‘Get out!’ Mel screamed, reaching for whatever came to hand from the bedside table. The alarm clock. Her aim was good. Mark winced, his hand going to his face as she hit her target. ‘Just take your bloody things and go! Or I swear to God I’ll call the police.’

  ‘And tell them what, Mel?’ Mark asked calmly. ‘That I assaulted you?’

  Mel held his gaze. ‘Yes,’ she said, her expression resolute, her eyes burning with hatred.

  ‘Right.’ Mark pulled his bloodied fingers away from his cheek. ‘It wouldn’t be true though, Mel, would it?’
/>   His heart free-falling into the vast space between them, Mark shook his head and turned away.

  ‘I want you out, Mark,’ Mel said coldly behind him.

  Clearly, she was prepared to believe a slimy piece of shit like Cummings over him. Had her illness caused this? Caused her to be so suspicious of him, so paranoid, she’d believe such complete crap, even knowing him? Or were they headed this way anyway? Mark had no clue. Maybe he didn’t know her. Maybe he never really had. Either way, he was going nowhere. She really must be insane if she thought he’d leave his kids to this.

  ‘No way, Mel,’ he said, squaring his shoulders as he walked away. ‘Call who you like. I’m staying.’

  Sixty

  JADE

  What did she have to do to get him to leave? Get her to plunge a knife through his heart? And did Melissa have a victim mentality or what? Jade was feeling a need to lie down, she really was. Skidding away from the door as it opened instead, she made as if she’d just been settling Evie as Mark emerged from the room, the look in his eyes one of pure murder.

  Oh no! He had blood on his cheek. Jade noted the sharp cut on his cheekbone and her anger boiled inside her. What had the bitch done to him now?

  ‘Did she receive any calls?’ Mark demanded. ‘Did Melissa receive any telephone calls or texts?’

  Jade, uncertain where this was going, didn’t immediately answer. ‘I… I’m not sure,’ she stammered. ‘Possibly. I don’t pay much attention to Mel’s calls.’

  ‘Right. Of course, you wouldn’t. Sorry, I er… Sorry.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Jade assured him. ‘I realise you’re a bit fraught. You’re, um, bleeding.’ She indicated his cheek, which really did look sore. Jade could see it swelling already.

  ‘Yeah.’ Mark pressed his fingers to his wound. ‘Steadily.’ He eyed her thoughtfully for a second, before hurrying down the stairs.

  His heart. Jade placed a hand over her own. He meant his poor broken heart. She really didn’t think she could bear it.

  Sixty-One

  MARK

  Poppy had been missing when he’d come down after the fiasco upstairs. His mind conjuring up all sorts of worst-case scenarios, Mark had felt sick to his gut when he’d finally found her, curled as tight as she possibly could be, hiding behind the armchair. Hiding from him.

  Gulping back a large swig of whisky, Mark looked across to the chair now, his breath hitching in his chest as he saw again his baby’s face. Obviously, having heard the argument and sensed the unbearable tension between him and Mel, she’d been petrified. So she’d tried to find a safe place to hide in, just as he’d once done. She wouldn’t budge when he’d asked her to come out. ‘No. I want to stay with Mummy,’ she’d insisted, her child’s eyes so vulnerable, her voice so small, Mark had felt another piece of himself die. It was Jade who’d persuaded her out in the end. Mark wasn’t sure how. He’d gone into the kitchen, not wanting his baby girl to see his heart break. And Jade had taken her up to Mel.

  He glanced to his phone on the coffee table, which beeped with another incoming text. It was probably Lisa again. She’d texted him several times, wanting to talk to him about something important, but ‘not work-related’. Whatever it was, it could wait. Mark simply hadn’t got the heart. Doubted very much he could talk coherently now anyhow. He lifted his glass to take another swig of whisky, realised he was empty and walked across to the cupboard for a refill, grabbing the bottle and placing it on the table in much the same place as the vodka had been.

  Sinking heavily back down on the sofa, the irony that he was doing exactly what he’d condemned Mel for – getting so drunk he couldn’t function – wasn’t lost on him. The fact was, though, he wanted not to function. He wanted oblivion, escape from the nightmares, both sleeping and waking.

  He wanted to confront Cummings in some secluded place, knock his teeth so far down his throat he’d be shitting them for a week. But he couldn’t, of course. If he left the house, he’d come back to find the locks changed. The claims Mel was making might have been based on something concocted in her feverish imagination, but it was all way too coincidental. Mark had no doubt that Cummings had taken photos, and that he’d always intended to use them in some way. But he’d been braced for something work-related. He hadn’t realised how clever the twisted scumbag was, how low he would sink to destroy him.

  What hurt most was that Mel was all too willing to believe it. Kerb-crawling? She clearly thought he was on a par with the sick fucker.

  Reaching for another top up of the poison, and knowing it would only make everything look worse in the cold light of day, Mark paused, his hand seeking Hercules, lying faithfully at his feet. ‘At least you don’t think I’m a complete bastard, hey, girl?’

  Mark stroked her velvety ears as she looked dolefully up at him. It could be worse, he supposed. His shirts hadn’t parted company with their sleeves. Yet. Picking up the bottle, Mark laughed cynically, and then he began to weep.

  Sixty-Two

  JADE

  He didn’t hear her come in, unaware of her presence until she sat quietly down beside him. Mark immediately tried to compose himself, pulling himself upright and taking his hands away from his face. He didn’t want her to see his weakness, as he thought of it; for her to realise he’d been quietly crying when he’d thought there was no one to hear him,

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Jade, squeezing his hand gently. ‘It’s all right, Mark,’ she repeated, her heart thrumming excitedly as she realised it was time to show him, to reassure him that it would be. ‘We can get through this.’

  Closing his eyes, his dark luxuriant eyelashes wet with tears, Mark nodded tightly. ‘Can we?’ he asked, his throat hoarse, his demeanour so very tired as he squeezed her hand back. But then eased himself away and got unsteadily to his feet.

  ‘Of course,’ Jade said, watching him walk across to the window. ‘We have to think about the children and do what’s best for Mel, but—’

  ‘Which is?’ Mark asked, drawing a hand tensely across the back of his neck.

  Jade hesitated. Put the needy bitch in the mental ward wouldn’t be quite the considered, sensitive response he was looking for. ‘That has to be your decision, Mark,’ she said instead, her tone hopefully indicating that she would understand, whatever decision he came to.

  ‘I know,’ he said, staring out of the window as she stood up and walked towards him. ‘I’m not sure I can make it, though. The right one, I mean.’

  Shrugging disconsolately, he heaved out a heavy sigh and dropped his gaze to the floor.

  She wanted to tell him that there was only one decision he could make if he wanted to end the sheer purgatory his life had obviously been for far too long, but… it wouldn’t be a decision a man with a conscience could make easily. Reaching a hand out instead, she trailed it lightly over his shoulders as she moved around in front of him.

  ‘You have to think of the children,’ she said carefully. ‘I just want you to know, I’m here for you. Whatever you need.’

  She smiled encouragingly as Mark looked at her. His eyes were slightly unfocused and full of such obvious torment that Jade felt her heart break for him. It was clear what he needed: someone to hold him, to take him to a place where he could abandon his inhibitions and forget all his anguish. He needed to lose himself, with her, inside her.

  ‘Thanks, Jade.’ Mark managed a smile back, albeit a smile tinged with sadness – not surprising, given the agony his wife was putting him through. ‘I have no idea what I would do without you.’ He reached out then, placing a hand softly on her forearm and causing every inch of Jade’s skin to prickle with sweet anticipation.

  * * *

  Jade’s hands trembled as she made him coffee – strong and black he’d said, when she’d insisted on making it for him. He could barely stand up straight, and his eyes were heavy with exhaustion. She was killing him. That bitch upstairs, she was slowly killing him. He wouldn’t leave her, nor would he have her sectioned. He might realise ther
e was no other choice eventually, but Jade was growing tired too. She’d waited too long for him to come back to her. For her sweet little angel to come back to her.

  Waiting for the kettle to boil, Jade walked across to the island, where Mark’s jogging top was still draped on one of the stools. Picking it up, she pressed it to her face, breathing in the smell of him, the masculine essence of him, suffused with the woody aftershave he wore. She wanted him. She would have him. She would have her baby.

  * * *

  He was fast asleep when she crept back downstairs to check on him, his coffee cold and untouched on the table. Standing over him, Jade’s eyes travelled the length of his broad-shouldered physique, semi-naked and bathed in soft moonlight from the window. He cried out as she watched him, struggling with the dark demons that were haunting his dreams.

  She would help him chase them away. It was safe to, now that he’d acknowledged his need for her. Jade could still feel the tingle of his fingers brushing her skin, sending shock waves the entire length of her body. It was time. She had to show him. His pain was her pain. She would soothe him with soft kisses, not empty promises. She would stand by him, be there for him, right by his side. A shoulder to cry on. A warm body to comfort him, to make love to. And yes, to take out his frustrations on, vent his emotions, if that was what he needed. She would love him as he needed to be loved.

  Freshly showered, her body oiled and perfumed, Jade reached for the shirt she slept in, one of Mark’s, and slid it over her shoulders, allowing it to fall softly to the floor.

  Gently, she straddled him, careful not to wake him. Her heart ached for him, her pelvis yearned to feel him inside her. Slowly, she cautioned herself, through the warm mist in her head, the aura that was Mark in her soul. He would need encouragement initially, gentle persuasion to push aside any guilt he might feel. But it was time.