The Unheard

by Nicci French

  If I were a computer genius, I’d do something clever. But I wasn’t a genius. I barely knew how to find anything on my own computer. I was wasting time even thinking about this. I was also trying not to think of how unimaginably awful it would be if someone came back and found me in the house. At the same time as trying not to do that and failing, I was also listening to every creak in the house, every movement. Even the sound of a car passing made me shiver, waiting for it to maybe stop and park outside.

  And then I heard something. I really did. At first I hoped it might be outside, branches being blown against a window, but it was inside the house. I could feel it. It was a rattling sound, something was moving, but I couldn’t tell what it was because I couldn’t decide whether it was close or distant.

  The sound felt like it was coming into focus, a rustling became a pattering and then stopped altogether. I looked round and I was looking down into the face of the little dog, Roxie. She looked back up at me. I felt a wave of fear that almost made me vomit. What if she went for me?

  ‘Hey, Roxie,’ I said.

  She responded with a low growl that wasn’t much more than a purr. I leaned down and put my hand towards her. I heard somewhere that dogs were attuned to human emotion. I tried to seem as gentle and calm and reassuring as I could.

  ‘Come on, Roxie.’ I stroked her wiry fur. The growl became a low whine and she lay down and turned over on her back and I stroked her tummy. ‘Now you’ll let me get on with this, won’t you?’

  She seemed content to lie on the carpet and I turned back to the screen. I’d already been doing this too long. I looked at my watch. Three minutes, I told myself. Then I’d go.

  I clicked on his email icon. That seemed the most promising spot. There were 25,865 messages. I swore silently. His email was another whole city in itself. I scrolled down. It was utterly hopeless. Mainly they were ads of various kinds, announcing various deliveries, hardly any of them were personal. I clicked on a few random examples: mainly they were to do with school, there was a confirmation of a date for a drink – copied to two women and three men. There were no messages from Emily or Ben or, for that matter, me, not that there was anything strange about that. We’d barely used emails for years. We communicated by text or WhatsApp and even then it was generally little more than a ‘running late be there in five’ kind of thing.

  I looked at my watch. The three minutes had passed. It was really time to go. I gave myself one more minute. I clicked on the list of folders. The categories looked straightforward: ‘Work’, ‘Accounts’, ‘House’, ‘Party 2016’. I smiled at that last one and clicked on it and saw a familiar list of names. It was the party we’d had here, in this house, just after we’d moved in. There were still unopened packing cases and the fridge hadn’t been delivered, but it had been a beautiful autumn evening and we’d put candles in jam jars in the garden. I closed it and looked at the remaining folders: ‘Holiday’, ‘Sport’, ‘Wedding’. I swore again. Fucking wedding. And then something occurred to me, something odd, like when you feel a stone in your shoe. What was it? Sport. What sport did Jason play?

  I clicked on it and right away I knew. The bastard. At the top, most recently, there were a few, a dozen maybe, messages from a Lara Steed. Further down there were a couple from a Nicole and still further down a few more from an Inga. I clicked on an Inga message and just fixed on certain phrases: ‘last night’, ‘I want you’. I felt sick all over again. These were Jason’s secret emails. He could have deleted them with a keystroke, but he had kept them like trophies.

  And then I heard another sound. There was no doubt about it. They were footsteps. Human footsteps. They were inside the house. I turned my head trying to locate their direction. It was from upstairs, a creaking, and then I heard them on the stairs. At first I just felt frozen. What could I do? What could I say? I looked round. Roxie had pushed the door behind me open. It was too late to close it and what good would it do anyway if Jason came into his office. The door opened inwards. Almost without thinking I stood up and tiptoed across and stood behind it.

  Now I was starting to think desperately. Didn’t this just make things worse? If I were found just sitting normally in a chair, then maybe – just maybe – I could come up with some kind of pathetic excuse about using my old key to find something that Poppy needed for school. But if I was found hiding behind a door, there was no feasible explanation at all. It was too late.

  The steps were close now.

  ‘Hey, Roxie, come on, girl.’

  It was Ben. He had been up in his room. He had been there all the time. How could I have been so stupid?

  Roxie barked twice, but didn’t get up.

  I slowly turned my head towards the wall. If I looked at Roxie and she looked back at me, she might take that as invitation to walk across to me. Also, I just couldn’t bear to see. Ben was just a couple of feet away from me on the other side of the door. I could smell him, a mixture of sweat and smoke. Wasn’t it possible that he could smell me, even if he couldn’t see me?

  ‘Roxie, what is it, you fucking dog?’

  Roxie just growled and curled up. She didn’t want to be disturbed. I stared at the wall and my skin crawled; I was horribly tempted to step out and reveal myself just to stop the terrifying stress of it all.

  ‘Fuck off, then.’

  I heard the steps recede, but instead of going back up the stairs, I heard them going down. What was he going to do? If he was going out, then I could wait a few minutes and leave. But what if he was going to make himself something to eat? Perhaps he would get some food and go back to his room. I imagined that was how he spent his days, up in his bedroom, online or playing computer games.

  I listened intently. It was difficult because everything seemed drowned out by the beating of my heart and by my breathing. I could make out the fridge door opening and closing. So he probably wasn’t going out. Something rattled, glasses or cutlery or glasses. It sounded like he was preparing food.

  I waited one minute, two minutes, three minutes. I looked at my watch. Why hadn’t I left sooner? Then there was another sound, voices, a snatch of music, what sounded like applause. I realised with another ripple of nausea running through me that Ben had settled down in front of the television.

  I cursed myself once again. How could I have got myself into this situation? I could be arrested. I could lose Poppy. I pushed the thought away from me. That was no use to me. Instead, I pictured the layout of the house downstairs. The stairs from the first floor led down to a hallway with the front door straight ahead: that I was sure of. On the left of the hallway were two rooms that had been knocked through into one large room. The kitchen was at the back of the house, with a door that led into the garden with high, unclimbable walls.

  Ben was presumably sitting in front of the television. But where was the television nowadays? Which way was he facing? Was the door to the hallway open and, if it was, would he see someone passing? I tried to remember where the television was, but I couldn’t. I had no idea.

  I took a deep breath. I had two choices and the answer was horribly simple. I could just wait for him to finish watching television and then perhaps he would go out or go back up to his room. In the meantime someone else could arrive and I would have no chance at all.

  Or I could try to leave now.

  It felt unbearable, but I had to do it.

  I tiptoed back across to Jason’s laptop. Those names, what should I do about them? I forwarded one of each of them to my email address.

  I shut the computer down, turned and almost trod on Roxie.

  ‘Please, please,’ I whispered to myself.

  I took a step out onto the landing, then another one. Each step creaked and I could feel each of them, as if I had an abscess in a tooth and I was prodding at it.

  I looked down the stairs. I could only see the doorways sideways on but one of them was definitely open. For all I knew, Ben could be looking straight out of it. There was only one way of finding out.

/>   I needed to be quieter. I raised my right foot and slipped off the shoe. As I pulled my left shoe off, I lost my balance and tipped against the wall, only just stopping myself from falling headlong. How could he not be hearing this?

  But in my socks, my footsteps were almost silent as I moved down the stairs, step by painful step. As I reached the bottom I saw that the first door was completely open.

  I froze. From where I stood, I could obliquely see the TV screen and I could see Ben, sideways to me, leaning back in the armchair. I almost moaned and put my knuckles into my mouth to stop any sound. He was wearing tatty boxers and nothing else. I could see his hairy shoulders and his soft white belly, which, as I stared, he scratched at luxuriously. He had a plate beside him, a huge sandwich with bits of pink ham protruding, a large blob of tomato ketchup on the side, a tin of Coke that he pulled the tab off and gulped at, wiping the back of his hand against his mouth.

  He was watching a game of darts. If he turned, he would see me. If I made a noise, he would hear me. But I had no choice. I had to walk past and there was nothing I could do about it: either he would see me or he wouldn’t.

  He belched, scratched again, pushing his hand under his boxers to do so. This was horrible. I shouldn’t be watching him when he thought he was alone. Just a poor sap, Felicity had said. But then I thought of the way he had been when he had found me in the park, trailing Jason and Poppy. You don’t like me, he had said, and there had been something menacing about the way he looked at me then.

  I had to move.

  I took one step, then another. I knew that with the next step I would be fully visible to him, framed in the doorway and just a few feet away from him. I took the step and felt a nightmarish temptation to look up and reassure myself that he wasn’t looking. But I just took one more step, then another. Now he was out of sight, just the sound of the TV.

  I looked back up the stairs and Roxie was standing there, fur bristling. She gave a sharp bark.

  But the front door was ahead of me. I was almost there. One step. Another step. Roxie barked again.

  I was close enough to reach the handle of the front door. I twisted it as slowly as I could, stepped through the small gap and pulled it shut with both hands.

  I eased one shoe back on and then the other. I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to cry. I was out.

  I walked down the path, stepped onto the pavement, turned to the left almost gagging with relief, and found myself in the way of two people. I apologised and then looked into the faces of Jason and Emily.

  It was like the ground had fallen beneath my feet. I couldn’t think of anything to say. Jason apparently felt the same. I thought he would be angry but now, at this moment, he just looked confused.

  I desperately tried to think of an excuse and then thought I shouldn’t seem guilty. I had a right to be there, didn’t I? Or at least I should act as if I did. I greeted them in as casual a way as I could manage, as if I’d just bumped into them in the street.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Jason asked.

  An idea came into my head. I didn’t have time to decide whether it was a good one.

  ‘I just wanted to talk to you about the arrangements with Poppy. I was in the area, so I thought we could talk in person. If you were at home. Which you weren’t.’

  ‘But you knew that, didn’t you?’ Jason said this with a smile that wasn’t a smile, as if it was some kind of shared joke between us. It was difficult for him to get cross with me in front of Emily.

  ‘I forgot. I’ve got so many arrangements in my head at the moment.’

  ‘We came back early. As you can see.’

  ‘Lucky for me.’

  ‘Not so lucky for us. Emily’s got awful morning sickness.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘That’s terrible. I know what it’s like. I had it really badly with Poppy.’

  ‘Emily’s is much worse,’ said Jason.

  ‘No, I bet it was just as bad for Tess.’

  I wasn’t sure whether I was more irritated by Jason’s opinion about my morning sickness or by Emily speaking up for me. I looked at her and saw that she was pale with an almost greenish tinge to her cheeks. Her lips were trembling.

  ‘You need to get inside,’ I said. ‘I’ll leave you.’

  ‘You came here to talk.’

  ‘I don’t want to be any trouble.’

  ‘It’s no trouble,’ said Jason briskly as he opened the front door from which I’d just emerged and stepped inside.

  Emily ran past him and clattered up the stairs and into the bathroom. We could both hear the sound of vomiting. We looked at each other.

  ‘You might want to go and help her,’ I said.

  ‘I think she’s managing on her own,’ said Jason.

  ‘I meant comfort her.’

  ‘I think what she wants at a moment like this is privacy.’ He looked around. ‘Hey, Ben.’

  ‘What’s up?’ said Ben.

  Jason explained why they were back.

  ‘Why didn’t you hear when Tess rang the bell?’ he asked.

  Ben looked at me with a frown. ‘I didn’t hear anyone ring.’

  ‘I just rapped at the door,’ I said. ‘It was probably drowned out by the TV.’

  ‘TV?’ said Ben. ‘How do you know I was watching TV?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ I said, flushing up to my hairline. ‘I know now. Anyway, I was thinking about what to do and then you two arrived.’

  It was too much explanation. The less I said the better.

  ‘Let’s go through to the kitchen so we don’t disturb Emily,’ Jason said.

  There had been a tiny, knowing smile on his face, but once we were in the kitchen he turned to me with an entirely mirthless expression.

  ‘All right,’ he said.

  ‘All right, what?’

  ‘You came all the way across London to talk to me,’ he said. ‘Oh no, sorry, I forgot. You were in the area. But anyway, what did you want to talk about?’

  ‘The arrangements for tomorrow.’

  ‘Have they changed?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then I know them. I’m collecting her and then she’s spending the night here.’

  I thought of what I’d seen in the house, Ben sitting in his boxer shorts watching darts and scratching himself and belching, and I felt almost sick at the idea of my daughter being unprotected.

  ‘I also wanted to say that Poppy is in a delicate state. She’s not sleeping well.’

  ‘You’ve told me that before. Many times. Why do you think it is?’ Jason spoke in a slow, even tone.

  He didn’t ask me to sit down. He didn’t offer me a coffee. It’s not that I wanted any of that, but I was aware of the two of us simply standing there.

  ‘I think that the break-up has been bad for her. I think she’s picking up on the bad feelings and it’s affecting her sleep and it’s affecting her behaviour and I want to do anything I possibly can to protect her from it.’

  Jason opened a cupboard, took a glass tumbler, filled it with water from the tap and drained it.

  ‘Can I get you anything?’ he asked.

  ‘No, thank you,’ I said. ‘But maybe Emily would like a glass of water.’

  ‘You can leave that to me.’

  ‘I feel a bit awkward having this conversation here while your wife is upstairs feeling ill.’

  ‘I’ll decide what’s awkward in this house.’

  ‘I think I’d better go.’

  He held up his hand. ‘Wait. Just a moment.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘I thought you wanted to have a talk with me. So let’s talk.’

  I swallowed and tried to calm myself. I didn’t want to talk. I just wanted to leave.

  ‘I’ve said what I wanted to say. I’m worried about Poppy. I want us both to pay attention to her.’

  Jason stepped forward and raised his hand. I moved away from him.

  ‘What is it?’ I said.

  He shook his head. ‘Honestly
, Tess, I don’t understand why you’re here. Is there something you’re not telling me?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I know it must be difficult for you, me being married to Emily, Emily expecting a child, us living in our old house. I appreciate that.’

  I had to stop myself reacting. The thought of him thinking he knew things about me and telling me them made me want to howl with rage.

  ‘I’m just thinking of Poppy,’ I said as calmly as I could manage.

  ‘I understand,’ he said in a voice that sounded like he was calming an anxious child. ‘I know that we had a relationship that didn’t work out and you blame me for that. I know that I may have strayed once or twice, but perhaps one day, when you can see things more rationally, you’ll look at yourself and see why I behaved like I did.’

  I wanted to shout something back, I wanted to scratch his face, but I silently told myself: It’s all about Poppy. It’s all about Poppy.

  He looked at me more closely. ‘I hoped you’d say something in reply.’

  ‘I don’t want to have an argument.’

  ‘We’re not having an argument. I’m trying to have a discussion. As I’ve said, we’re separate now, but we’re linked by our child. I thought we were handling it so well. But things have changed. Now you’re interfering in things that haven’t anything to do with you. If it were happening to someone who didn’t still care for you the way I do, then that person might become angry. Very angry indeed.’

  He was still speaking in a calm tone that I found more menacing than if he had been obviously enraged. I couldn’t help remembering the evidence that was sitting up in his computer. All he needed to do was check the ‘sent’ mailbox. The thought of it made me want to throw up.

  I felt a wave of relief when Emily came into the kitchen.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I asked.

  ‘I still feel sick. Even though there’s nothing more to come up.’

  She was speaking in a mumble as if even the effort of speaking clearly might make her feel nauseated.

  ‘It’ll go soon,’ I said. ‘You’ll get through it.’

  Jason put his arm round his wife and kissed the top of her head. She flinched. Even that touch seemed to be toxic to her.