The Exes' Revenge

by Jo Jakeman

  “I know. He’s quite special. I don’t suppose you could note it down on your device thing, in case this escalates? It probably won’t, but you know . . .”

  “I can try, but I don’t know whether anyone’ll look at it. It’ll be on record if you need to refer to it. You definitely don’t have a problem that you know of, then? Just to be sure, before I get home for me tea?”

  “I’m certain that we haven’t noticed a gas leak.”

  I watched him walk back to his van. I was sure Phillip’s eyes were on me, watching every move, listening to every word. I didn’t want him to think I was scared, so I stood there for five defiant minutes, breathing in the night air, glaring at shadows, and pretending I wasn’t scared by his petty games. If he wanted to remind us that he was out there somewhere, it was working a treat. I couldn’t settle. Waiting.

  Waiting.

  Giving him enough rope to hang himself.

  I closed the door and Naomi said, “What the hell’s he playing at?”

  I made a note of the time and date and wrote the name I’d seen on the gas man’s identity card. With Mary to back up my story about the brick and the note about nuisance calls to the gas board, I was getting closer to a restraining order.

  “Can I borrow your phone?” I asked Naomi. “Phillip’s still got mine.”

  I scrolled through Naomi’s contacts until I found Phillip’s number and then I sent him a text.

  Is that all you’ve got?

  CHAPTER 25

  10 days before the funeral

  I was happy for Phillip to keep sending a stream of unsuspecting people to my door. It all added to the case I was putting together to prove that he was harassing me. It would be nice to think that I would be able to get Phillip arrested, but until I spoke to DC Chris Miller, I wasn’t sure I had enough on him.

  Nine o’clock. Ten o’clock. Ruby was sniffling and I didn’t even try to comfort her. It was mainly the dogs, she said, but also, how could Phillip be doing this to us, to her? And then she would cry again, pulling tissue after tissue out of the box like a magician pulling a string of flags from his sleeve.

  There was something at the back of my mind, a faint buzz like a bee was trapped in my brain. I shook my head and it quieted for a while.

  A car beeped outside. Close by. Three sharp hits of the horn. Ruby stopped crying, Naomi stood up, and I grinned. The more pranks he pulled now, the better my case was going to look. Another longer beep sounded and Naomi went to the window.

  “Don’t know what this one is,” said Naomi. “I hope it’s Chinese. I could murder a spring roll.”

  The man stayed in the car and we stayed at the window. After five minutes, he pulled himself out of the car, hitched up his trousers, and waddled up the drive. Ruby and Naomi went to meet him while I stayed at the window watching. I scanned the shadows, looking for Phillip.

  “Taxi,” the man said.

  “Sorry, you’ve got the wrong house. We’ve not ordered one.” Ruby was polite and warm. The taxi driver said nothing, simply sighed and wobbled away without discussion. I wondered how many hours of people’s lives would be wasted on Phillip and his schemes, but it was another incident to add to my growing list.

  I couldn’t work out what Phillip was playing at. We were unsettled and confused, but his childish antics were more annoying than terrifying. Ruby was on her feet, bustling about, plumping up cushions, and straightening rugs.

  “I wouldn’t take too much notice of it. It’s just the equivalent of him ringing the doorbell and running away. He’s a big kid. Ignore it.”

  “That’s it,” I said. “I’ve had enough. I’m not answering any more calls or doors. I’m going to bed. I’m locking the doors and shutters and am going to try my best to get some sleep.”

  We made our drinks for the night. Brandy for Naomi, water for me, and chamomile tea for Ruby. Naomi had her last smoke of the day and left her lighter and cigarettes by the back door for a quick nicotine fix in the morning.

  We checked that the doors were locked. Windows too. He wasn’t getting in tonight. Bolts, chains, chairs under doorknobs. Tonight we would sleep. Tomorrow we would compile more evidence against him. I pocketed my mobile and switched off the lights.

  I followed the others up the stairs and paused at the top to look at the messages on my phone. I looked down the stairs and then back at my phone.

  “Naomi,” I said urgently. “Naomi!”

  “What?”

  She came over to where I stood. I held out my mobile.

  “What?” she said. “What am I looking at?”

  “The phone.”

  My hand began to shake. My chest was being crushed. I sucked air into my lungs, feeling like they were shutting down.

  I watched as it dawned on her. Her eyes met mine.

  “But you didn’t have your phone,” she said quietly.

  I shook my head. My breath was coming quickly. Phillip had taken it when we were in the cellar.

  Ruby craned her neck around the bedroom doorway.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Imogen’s phone’s turned up,” said Naomi.

  Ruby ducked into the bedroom and called out, “I didn’t know you lost it.”

  “I probably didn’t. I thought I had, but perhaps it was here all along,” I said weakly.

  She called back, “Mind if I use your bathroom, darling?”

  “Help yourself.”

  “Yeah, I bet that’s it,” Naomi said loudly. “God, you had me scared for a minute then.”

  She put her hand over her heart and rolled her eyes—playing too hard at being fine—and handed my phone back to me.

  We were both thinking the same thing. My phone hadn’t been here earlier. We were certain that Phillip had taken it, so how had it found its way back into the house?

  Naomi took my arm and pulled me into the spare room, where we could keep an eye on my bedroom door.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked. “There’s another possibility, isn’t there? Who was here all day while we were tracking down Alistair and going to the airport? Ruby’s the only one who could have let him in. She was the only one he didn’t hit when he locked us up. She’s the one who’s always sticking up for him. And the dogs? He’s probably taken them somewhere for her. If he’d just let them free, someone would have spotted them by now. I don’t buy the act.”

  “You think he’s been back to the house while we were out?”

  “Makes sense,” Naomi said.

  “But her car . . .” I began. For everything I’d suspected Ruby of over the years, I still hoped that I was wrong. If she’d lied about Phillip, what else had she lied about?

  “Like you said, it’s just a car. Easier to fix than a broken nose.”

  “All this time, she’s been listening to us and reporting back to him. She’s more devious than I gave her credit for.”

  I thought back to the car accident and the blue car that conveniently disappeared.

  I lowered my voice. “Don’t say anything yet. We could use this to our advantage.”

  CHAPTER 26

  9 days before the funeral

  I didn’t want to believe that Ruby was helping Phillip, but now that the idea was in my head, it was difficult to shake. I had images of her letting him into the house in the middle of the night. Of waking to find him standing over me with a knife. The knife that was missing from the kitchen. Did she have it? Should I be more worried about her attacking me in the night?

  We lay in semidarkness. Ruby was by my side, in bed with me. Naomi was on a doubled-up duvet on the floor. I let them think I was fearful and wouldn’t be able to sleep on my own knowing that Phillip was out there somewhere, when the reality was I wouldn’t let them out of my sight. I wouldn’t have either of them slipping away and letting Phillip in. I doubted Naomi wo
uld be helping him, but mere hours ago I would have said the same about Ruby.

  Naomi and Ruby fell asleep a little after one a.m. Hearing the breathing of other people in the room, the rustle of bedsheets, was both a comfort and a distraction. Naomi’s breathing was quick and heavy, suggestive of active dreams and a troubled mind. Ruby slept on her back and snored. I felt my eyes closing of their own accord and blinked them open suddenly. I pinched the inside of my thigh. I wouldn’t let myself fall asleep tonight.

  I’d thought we were becoming friends, and now, thanks to Phillip, I was keeping them at arm’s length again. It was as I’d always suspected: I could only rely on myself. I looked at Ruby, wondering whether she was plotting to bring my family down. If Naomi and I were right, then the sooner I sent Ruby back home to Brighton, where she could no longer spy on me, the better. But if Naomi was bluffing and she was the one betraying me . . . No, there was no way she would help him after he had tried to kill her. If it was anyone, it was Ruby. Kind, compassionate Ruby. I wanted to cry with frustration at my own stupidity. This was what happened when you trusted someone. Phillip was still outsmarting me, still making us all dance to his tune.

  I wondered what their plan was and why Ruby would help him at my expense. I’d never been unkind to her, but wasn’t welcoming either. I would never have expected her capable of subterfuge, which showed what a terrible judge of character I was. My mind kept going back to the accident. Had she been responsible? If she was, then surely Phillip would know. Was this what he held over her? Was this why she was doing his bidding?

  As I looked at her slack face in the darkness, I tried to picture her playing happy families with Phillip and my son. Had she planned to take my son as her own? I’d always known she’d wanted a child, but she bloody well couldn’t have mine.

  I hadn’t spoken about Spain in front of her, so I was as sure as I could be that she hadn’t told Phillip where Alistair was. Even if she had, he couldn’t have got a replacement passport yet. And I’d personally watched Bill burn Phillip’s old one in the fire pit in his backyard.

  It occurred to me that this could be the reason she was still here. Listening, waiting to find out where we’d hidden Alistair. And the brick through the window was just an excuse so that she had to stay. Those two were cleverer than I’d given them credit for.

  I’d checked online; even if Phillip paid to get a passport processed in twenty-four hours, the earliest appointment he could get would be Tuesday. I had until then to build a case against him. If Ruby was feeding information to Phillip, then I’d make sure she had the wrong information. I’d send him to the ends of the country, perhaps even abroad. I could start dropping hints about Alistair enjoying French food, and how nice the weather was in the South of France. I needed Phillip to leave us alone. I had a meeting with Chris Miller on Monday morning where I would see what kind of a case we had against Phillip. I would have to tell him the whole story, which would mean admitting to locking him up in the first place.

  A shaft of orange light fell across the bed, growing occasionally brighter as infrequent cars sped down the road. Since the accident, I had feared cars at night. I rarely drove in the dark and never walked anywhere after dark. I slid out of bed and went to look out the window. The street below was still.

  A door opened somewhere and I heard the familiar rattle of milk bottles being put on the step ready for dawn and the milkman. I wondered who would be awake so late. None of the neighbors looked like they outstayed the ten o’clock news. Sensible families, not hiding out from psychotic husbands, slumbered sweetly under the covers. And somewhere, my sweet boy Alistair was sleeping under a warmer sky than this. The pain of being separated from him hit me like a blow to the guts. When I thought of him, I ached. He was so precious to me—so perfect—I could scarcely believe he was mine. It was miraculous that someone like me, damaged and weak, could have created something so stunningly flawless. Being separated from him was worth it if it restored our future. I had to be strong for a few days more if I was to make it safe for him to come back to me.

  A sound, like the click of a light switch, had me snapping my head round. The lights in the bedroom were still off, and neither Naomi nor Ruby had moved. I looked out the window again, half expecting to see a shadowy figure running from the house, but everything was silent and all houses surrounding me were in darkness. I cocked my head, but there was no sound. I perched on the end of the bed and alternately scrunched and relaxed my toes, waiting for something else, a sound to confirm my fears or to tell me that it was something perfectly and easily explainable.

  I thought I heard a door shut, and I concentrated to feel whether anything seemed out of place. How much was real and how much was my mind playing tricks on me? My heart was pounding too loudly for me to pick out the sounds that didn’t belong there. I tiptoed to the door. Everything was the same, just as I hoped it would be. There was only emptiness, stillness, and paranoia.

  I told myself to get a grip. He couldn’t get in the house unless one of us opened the door for him, and no one had left the room. I closed the door a little too firmly and a gust of air ruffled my hair. Something was on the breeze, an unfamiliar scent; it was dry and scratchy at my throat. I opened the door once more and inhaled deeply but couldn’t grab hold of the scent that had slipped past me a moment before.

  “What is it?” mumbled Naomi from behind me in the darkness.

  “I don’t know. Maybe nothing. Can you smell anything?”

  She sniffed the air audibly. I heard the rustle of sheets as she sat up.

  “What am I smelling for?”

  “I don’t know. I thought I . . .” I couldn’t smell it now and was unsure whether I was imagining things. I was tired, had had little sleep all week. My weak mind was playing tricks on me. But still . . .

  Naomi came to my side, dressed in a long T-shirt, and looked out onto the landing. The glare had us squinting and blinking.

  “Can’t smell anything, can’t see anything,” she said.

  Ruby muttered something unintelligible in her sleep.

  “No,” I said. “You’re right. It’s probably nothing.”

  Naomi yawned.

  “Still, I’m just going to check downstairs,” I said. “Otherwise I’ll never settle.”

  “I’ll come with you,” she said.

  We looked over the banister, but there was no sign of light or life. I hoped my imagination was getting the better of me. We started our way downstairs and I asked, “Can you smell gas?”

  Naomi shook her head.

  “You’re only thinking that because of the fella from the gas board earlier.”

  “Maybe,” I said.

  The front door was still locked and bolted, and there were no signs of an open window. There was something in the air, a scent that wasn’t quite there but just on the outskirts of my senses.

  “I’m sure I can smell something,” I said.

  “It’s probably outside,” Naomi said.

  The smell hit me again and I put the back of my hand over my mouth.

  “Shit!” I said. “It is gas!” I dashed into the kitchen. “Don’t switch on the lights,” I shouted.

  The gas range was hissing to itself from the two front burners. I switched it off and the whispering—which I hadn’t even realized was in my ears—stopped. I pulled at the back door to open it, groped in the dark for where the keys should be. My fingers groped at the handle and found the hole where the key should be. But the key wasn’t there.

  “The keys! Where are they?”

  I held my breath against the smell of gas. I fumbled with the kitchen window and flung it open, taking in big gulps of fresh air. The security light blinked on overhead and brought the length of the backyard to life.

  I opened the drawer where I kept the spare keys, but they were gone.

  “Naomi, he’s in the house. I know he is.”

/>   “Don’t be daft,” she said, though her voice lacked the conviction of her words. “One of us banged into it or something. Either that or Ruby—”

  “She’s not moved all night and the keys are missing!”

  Neither of us had an answer.

  Something behind Naomi caught my eye. Indistinct and unfamiliar.

  “What?” she said.

  I raised my hand to silence her and gently pushed her to one side.

  From the light spilling from the hallway, I could just make out the word BITCH in twelve-inch letters on the kitchen wall.

  CHAPTER 27

  9 days before the funeral

  I groped my way around the kitchen until I found the handle of the knife drawer. I picked the largest knife in there—not the largest one I had, since either Phillip or Ruby had that one—and held it out in front of me.

  “What are you doing?” whispered Naomi.

  “He’s in here, Naomi. He’s in the house.”

  “But the doors are locked,” she said.

  I looked at the wall, covered in script from knee level to fingertip high.

  “He’s been here all along.”

  The brick through the window had been the perfect distraction. The endless stream of people coming to the door giving him the opportunity to get settled, hide somewhere, and wait. And he had been listening to every word.

  I pictured him lingering round corners, laughing at us. Hearing our hopes and fears. Using them to get at us. Phillip Rochester was still pulling our strings and controlling the game.

  “We can get out the window,” whispered Naomi.

  I shook my head. I wasn’t running from him again. I tiptoed into the hallway and checked that the cellar was still locked. It was.

  “Imogen! What’re you doing?” hissed Naomi.

  “He’s here somewhere.”

  “That’s why we need to get out of the house,” she said urgently.

  “No.”

  I could still smell the tangy scent of gas in the air, but I could breathe freely now. My jaw ached and I realized I was clenching my teeth together. I was as alert as I was angry. Come out, come out, wherever you are.