by Liz Lawler
Stepping around Tess to take a packet of sugar, the man said to her, ‘You look pale.’
Tess felt it. The exchange between the two men and the message she got had shaken her. As he walked away she followed and, in the vestibule, he smiled at her kindly.
‘Hello, again. Sorry about that. You get them everywhere. Loathsome people.’ Leaving Tess to wonder what loathsome Bill had done.
She put a shaky hand to her head and he reached out and steadied her arm.
‘Are you OK? You don’t look well.’
She felt suddenly tearful and her mouth trembled. He sounded like a father caring about a daughter and for a moment she felt bereft. To have a mother or father she could go to – to have someone she could tell of her unhappiness – would ease her burden.
‘Just a headache,’ she said.
She watched him out of the window as he got off at Reading, his stride purposeful, and wished she too could just get off. She could disappear right here into another life and not look back.
At two o’clock Tess let herself out the front door of the flat for the last time. She would not be coming back. Tomorrow she would go somewhere new. Though she wasn’t going to let her husband know that. He’d given her a seven-day train ticket, well, tomorrow she intended to get a train. She wasn’t going to bother with a visit to St Thomas’s. Now that she knew where his parents lived.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Martha was wearing a proper bib apron with a wide pocket in the skirt. She was in charge of the tea-making. She popped her head out the back door and gazed at the policeman talking to Jim.
‘Do you take sugar in your tea?’ she asked.
‘One, thank you, Mrs King,’ the tall man replied. He looked too young to be a policeman. His face didn’t look like it had grown any hair. Why Jim had to talk to him out in the garden she didn’t know. He’d said so the chap could smoke, but she hadn’t seen any evidence of that when looking out of the window. They were just standing there in quite blowy weather and Jim seemed to be doing a lot of the talking.
She’d called the 101 number this time, not wanting to be reprimanded for calling 999 again. When a constable turned up, surprisingly quick, she’d given him a full account of her stolen scarf and where she’d lost it and who had taken it. She then told him she’d seen it with her own eyes that morning on the head of the man’s new wife. She was wearing it after he had stolen it.
Jim had come home and found them talking so she’d had to go through it all again. But at least Jim was now taking it seriously. He’d said straight away that he’d like a serious word with the officer about this matter, though she hadn’t heard what this serious word was about yet as they’d then gone out to the garden and Jim had put her in charge of making the tea.
She opened the back door again and waved the two men into the kitchen with a tea towel. ‘It’ll go cold if you don’t drink it now.’
The young officer took off his cap and accepted the mug she offered. ‘Don’t mind if I do.’ He sipped it and found it just right. ‘Nice cup of tea.’
‘If you heat the teapot first you can’t go wrong.’ She settled down on a small footstool, leaving the two chairs at the kitchen table to the men. ‘Sorry I can’t offer you a biscuit. I can’t find any. I think Jim must eat them all.’
She saw the policeman eyeing a wall cupboard. ‘What about in that one?’ He smiled and pointed.
Martha saw that he was looking at Jim’s label on the cupboard door saying what was inside it. The word ‘BISCUITS’ was written as large as life and Martha felt foolish for not seeing it. Jim gave the man a bit of a look and saved her further embarrassment.
‘They’re all gone. Martha’s right.’
The young officer stared away awkwardly, before speaking again. ‘You have a lovely home, Mrs King.’
‘It’s been rewired and had a new boiler put in two years ago and, of course, the roof is sound. Ted did it not long ago.’ She patted the wall beside her. ‘It’s been a good solid house, so it has.’ She took a hanky from her apron pocket and gave her nose a quick blow. ‘So, about this matter. You’re going to take it seriously then?’
He shuffled a bit in his seat. ‘You could say that. You’re absolutely sure though that your scarf isn’t somewhere inside your home?’
She shook her head. ‘I lost it in the cemetery after he was following me, like I said. I saw him at the hospital and it shook him up to hear me say I knew his real name. That’s why he followed me! Not to steal my scarf but to silence me! If not for Jim I’d be dead!’
‘Maybe someone picked it up. Someone else, I mean.’
He sipped some more of his tea and she glared at him. She may as well have held her breath for all the notice he was taking. ‘I may well be old, Constable, but I’m not blind. His wife was wearing it this morning!’
He placed his mug on the table. ‘I’m not saying you are, Mrs King. I’m just making sure you’re certain. There are a lot of blue scarves out there.’
‘Not like mine,’ she cried. ‘Someone gave it to me after I nearly did something terrible.’
‘I gave it to you, Martha,’ Jim said. He smiled at her kindly. ‘So as I’d find you more easily. It has a bit of a glow in the dark. Can you remember me giving it to you?’
Her shoulders slumped and her lips trembled badly. She was trying not to cry. ‘I don’t remember that, Jim. I’m sorry.’
‘What did you nearly do?’ the officer gently probed.
Jim butted in. ‘You don’t need to know that, Constable.’
‘What’s a mortal sin?’ she uttered in despair, her voice breaking. ‘An act against the will of God. Thou shall not kill thyself. And my maker up there will not have been pleased about it.’
As she cried quietly Jim took hold of her hand and patted it softly. She heard the young policeman call out a goodbye, but she didn’t respond. She was busy thinking about what Jim had said. She hadn’t known it was him who led her away and brought her home. What she found sadder was that she hadn’t remembered him ever giving her the scarf.
‘Will you do me a favour, Jim?’ she asked.
‘Another one?’ he replied, teasing her and lightening the mood.
She gave him a teary smile. ‘Don’t ever treat me like an old fool, will you? I don’t mean take me for one. I mean treat me like one.’
‘Not ever will I do that,’ he said firmly.
‘That young officer? He’s not going to go looking for my scarf or visit any man, is he? He was just giving me the talk, wasn’t he?’
Jim stared at her, and she saw him swallow before he nodded. She lightly gripped his hand. At least she knew. She wouldn’t waste time waiting for something to happen. The watching of his house was still in her hands. The safety of his wife was down to her. No one else wanted it. No one believed she was in danger.
She had looked as pretty as picture wearing the scarf. It was the same blue colour as her eyes. Martha would let her keep it. Jim had given it to her to keep her safe. Maybe it would help this young woman. Martha hoped so. She was getting very weary from so much responsibility.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Tess stepped into her hallway just as the clocks chimed five o’clock. She was surprised to find he was already there. Did the man ever work? She quickly took off her jacket and left it with her rucksack on the hall chair. Out in the open for him to see she had nothing to hide. It was now empty of make-up and the postcard was tucked down the back of her pants for her to hide when she went upstairs.
She was further surprised to find him humming and cooking. He smiled at her warmly.
‘I knocked off early. Ed and I got called in yesterday evening for a stabbing. Two sixteen-year-old lads were attacked by a gang. We were meant to be having a drink together to discuss a case I have tomorrow. Good job we didn’t as we were needed. Anyway, I didn’t get back till late and then was back there again at the crack of dawn.’ He grinned. ‘Patients are doing well though, so that’s something.’
‘Well done,’ she said, hoping he wouldn’t ask her what she did. Or remember the scarf he put away. She didn’t want to have to mention Anne’s visit.
‘He asked after you. Said how much he enjoyed Sunday, how he and his wife thought you were charming, so don’t be surprised if we get an invite to their home.’
She gave a sound of approval. ‘That was nice of him. They seem like a nice couple. Do you want any help?’
His hands suddenly rested on her shoulders and he gave her a gentle push towards the door. ‘Go and have a bath and change. Dinner will be about half an hour.’
Tess made her way slowly up the stairs, feeling a wave of deep depression slam into her like a wall. Why had he had to change from being like this? This was how he used to be all the time until they got married. A kind and considerate man. She could, if she was foolish enough, imagine nothing had happened or changed since then, or move forward and forget what followed. Forget her waiting on a verdict. She stopped short at her bedroom door at the sight of the small package on the bed. Her bunched fingers pressed to her mouth to silence her cry. The black-and-white box was tied with a delicate gold ribbon. He’d left her a new perfume to try. His behaviour downstairs was not normal. It was a charade – nothing more. He could play the part of an attentive husband and just as easily switch off the performance. Nothing about him was normal, not these endless gifts of perfume or his humming downstairs.
When she was nearly ready, she heard the landline phone ring, and desperately hoped it was another emergency at the hospital to give her a second evening without him. She came down the stairs as he replaced the receiver. He returned to the kitchen and attended to the pot on the stove. Whatever the call was about he was not hurrying to get ready and leave. She fixed a smile on her face and prepared to help.
‘I’ll lay the table,’ she offered.
‘I never asked about your day. How did it go?’
‘Good. The removal van collected everything on time. Said they’d be bringing it here Sunday as arranged.’
‘Yes, that’s right. It needs one of us to be here, and I didn’t know how many more days you might need at the flat.’
‘I’m giving it a clean tomorrow, and it shouldn’t take too long with it empty Thank you, by the way, for the perfume.’
He turned. ‘That’s OK. Thank you for sorting it out.’
‘I’ve enjoyed the train journeys. I’ll probably miss them.’
‘At least you won’t have to put up with the annoying Vivien beside you again.’
Tess kept quiet. Passing no comment was probably wisest.
‘Or crammed in with all those strangers. Dreadful busy things, you don’t know who you could be standing next to. Anything could happen to you!’ He laughed and surprisingly so did she. It was a near perfect mimicry of Vivien’s voice.
‘Well, I was lucky. I didn’t have to sit next to anyone.’
‘Good. It’s nice to have a quiet journey.’
He picked up the large pot and drained boiling water into the sink. He stopped humming and was concentrating.
‘Does this look cooked to you?’ he asked.
She went over to the sink to stand beside him.
‘Try a bit,’ he asked. Tess carefully took hold of a tendril of spaghetti between finger and thumb to prevent her fingers burning. ‘Is it soft?’ he asked.
‘It’s perfect,’ she said, though thinking it soggy and overcooked.
‘Like you then,’ he said softly. He raised her free hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. ‘Perfect at lying.’
She tensed as he gripped her wrist. Horrified, she watched in slow motion her hand going into the pot of boiling hot spaghetti.
‘Please don’t, Daniel!’ she begged, feeling the heat against her palm.
‘Don’t what?’ he asked, holding her hand hovering over the steaming food.
‘Please, please don’t. I beg you.’
‘Do this you mean?’ he said, keeping a tight grip on her wrist as he submerged her hand in the boiling glutinous spaghetti and forced it down to touch the base of the pot. Her legs buckled as the pain radiating through her entire body folded her to the ground, making him let go. Panting in agony, she climbed to her feet desperate to get her hand under cold running water, feeling the stinging intensify as cold pressure hit burning heat as she thrust her hand under the tap.
He stood to the side watching, wiping his hands on a cloth.
‘Stella phoned. She said Cameron called her as he wonders if you’ve got his mobile. He said he had it with him when you were on the train together. Imagine my surprise at hearing that? Perhaps he left it at the flat. Do you think he might have done that?’
She couldn’t speak she was in so much agony. She shook her head.
‘I told Stella you couldn’t come to the phone right now as I’d just had to put you to bed.’ He sighed and tutted. ‘I told her how you’d burned your poor hand while cooking. She said you were lucky to have a doctor on hand. That was nice of her, wasn’t it?’
As he walked away he resumed humming the tune he hummed earlier. Tess stared after him with pain-filled eyes. He had known what he was going to do to her before he did it. His cruelty was demonic. The heat inside of her was like a furnace as she stood there watching him walk away. He should be put down like a mad dog. Do what would be done to an animal if it behaved this way. Put it out of its misery.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
He left her a tube of Flamazine cream and some non-adhesive dressings with a note she didn’t find in the least funny: Doctor’s orders. She spent the night in unbearable pain from the constant throbbing, the paracetamol and ibuprofen giving almost no relief. Only by keeping it submerged in a bowl of cool water was she able to manage. Several blisters had formed under the skin and her entire hand was red and puffy. He must be a sociopath to do something so cold and calculating. He had caused extreme pain just long enough to leave no permanent damage and ensuring it healed quickly with treatment.
She slathered the cream on her hand and was fixing a dressing with a bandage when the phone rang in the hallway. It rang out eight times before the call went to the answer machine. Her mouth dried as she heard Stella’s voice.
‘Tess, you silly, silly girl. I hope Daniel has made you all better. Cameron has found his phone by the way. It was found on the train and handed in so all good now. Take care and no more burning yourself.’
The words were light and airy as if Stella imagined her at home like a little girl being cossetted and spoiled. Instead, she was punished because he thought she had spent the day at the flat with Cameron. No one would ever believe her if she told them the truth. They would look at him and look at her and they would believe him. Stella, she noted, had called her husband by name. Their relationship must be getting close.
She took two more paracetamol and two more ibuprofen. She needed to be on those trains today. She had her duty as a daughter-in-law.
On the kitchen table she saw the ‘Improvements’ book standing upright, left like that so she couldn’t miss seeing it. She hadn’t looked inside its red cover or touched it since the day he bought it. It had been a wonderful gift to receive after him ending her career. What better way to cheer her up than to let her know she was a failure as a housewife? His thoughtful gift had been truly inspiring. The book on etiquette was buried beneath clothing in a drawer upstairs. She didn’t ever intend to read it.
Picking his book up she opened the hard cover and saw he’d had the gall to write in red and underline the word ‘IMPROVEMENTS’. She saw he’d written on the first page the day of the week he started it: Sunday. Had he done this in the morning or in the evening? After the lovely meal with his guests or after saying she could go to London? When had he bloody well written the damn thing, while in his office sorting out her train ticket? Putting pen to paper knowing that the next day she’d be heading to London to sort out his flat and wouldn’t have time to carry out the ‘Improvements’.
For Sunday he’d writ
ten:
Water in shower is draining slowly. Shower plug hole is full of hair. May I remind you to remove it each time you shower? Use shower cap when not washing hair.
She turned the pages and saw four more entries:
Monday: Have consideration for the bin men. Rinse recycling properly.
Tuesday: Unless you want accidents to happen remove moss between front door steps. A kitchen knife should do it. Then use scrubbing brush to get rid of green.
Wednesday: Read previous entries! Step is getting slippery! Shower plug hole still full of hair!
Thursday: I’m eating out tonight. Don’t cook for me. Don’t go to London to clean flat. It’s unnecessary.
Tess slammed the book down then swept it off the kitchen table to let it fly across the room and land on the floor. She wasn’t going to London. She hoped he would slip on the step and crack his skull open. She breathed in deeply and let it go slowly. She needed to preserve her energy for the things she still had to do. My husband is unwell, she said in her mind, finding it helped to think of him that way.
A short while later she stepped down the two steps from the front door. They didn’t look green or feel in the slightest bit slippery. She heard a buzzing sound coming towards her and saw two wasps flying back into the porch. They were probably attracted to the light that was on during the night. Wasps in October could be aggressive, drunk on ripened fruit and more likely to sting. She craned her neck to look up at the eaves of the roof. The overhang was deep and too high to spot anything but maybe there was a nest up there. She imagined her husband getting up a ladder to deal with it. He’d use long-handled forceps to grip it and pull it out and then be shocked at being attacked by a swarm. Stinging him and stinging him and stinging him. He would know what stinging felt like then. Know it wasn’t very pleasant.
