The Doll House

by Phoebe Morgan

  The younger policeman picks up the doll and his colleague snaps at him.

  ‘Put that down, Mark.’ He turns to us again, meeting my eyes this time. ‘We’re going to need to take the item for fingerprinting, if that’s all right with you. Whoever did this will have left some sort of trace, we hope. Without that, with no sign of disturbance . . . well, it’s difficult.’ He looks between us, as though he’s doubting me, as though he thinks there’s more to the story. What does he think, we’ve had some sort of twisted domestic?

  Dominic seems suddenly to come to. ‘That would be great, Officers,’ he says, and I can see they’re relieved that he’s speaking up, that he’s corroborating my story.

  ‘If you can keep us updated, that would be really helpful.’ He glances at me. ‘We’re going to stay elsewhere tonight, my girlfriend doesn’t feel safe in the flat.’

  I stare at him, the blood beating in my ears. ‘Oh and you do?’

  He takes my hand again. ‘No, of course not, Cor. Calm down, I’m on your side.’ He smiles awkwardly at the police officers. The younger one takes a pair of see-through gloves from his pocket, picks up Beatrice and deposits her clinically in a clear plastic bag. Her face stares out at me through the cellophane. I feel helpless.

  ‘Did you see anyone around the property?’ the elder policeman asks. ‘Anything unusual?’

  ‘I saw my neighbour,’ I tell him. ‘She was outside the flat when I got home but she couldn’t have been inside. She doesn’t have a key.’

  ‘Does anyone else have a key to this place?’

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘Well, just my sister. And my mum does, actually, I think. But nobody else.’

  ‘And . . . this might seem a strange question, but do either of you know anyone who might want to do something like this? To threaten you?’

  The younger one is speaking now, they seem to be taking it in turns. I shake my head. Dominic is looking at the floor, his face unreadable. I frown at him.

  ‘Dom? Do you?’

  He looks up, raises his eyebrows at the police.

  ‘Nope,’ he says, ‘Nobody at all.’ He pauses. I can see him swallow, the Adam’s apple bobbing in his neck. ‘I don’t know who would do something as violent as this.’

  ‘We’ll need to speak to your neighbour,’ the elder officer says. I give him Gilly’s details and he scribbles them down in his little notebook. Dominic frowns at me.

  ‘She might have seen something!’ I say. ‘She was outside the flat when I got home. Leaving me a note, she said.’

  ‘She was outside your flat?’ The younger policeman says, and I nod. He makes a note on his page.

  ‘I mean, I don’t think she did this!’ I say hastily. ‘But she lives just across the hall, so if anyone might have seen someone, it’s her.’

  ‘Yes, it’s best that we speak to anyone in the vicinity,’ the policeman says. ‘What’s your relationship with this Gilly? Are you on good terms?’

  ‘Yes, we are,’ I say. ‘We’ve become friends.’

  ‘And you met her when she moved into the building?’

  I nod. ‘Only a few weeks ago – well, actually, we met a couple of years ago but she doesn’t remember, it was a coincidence.’ Dominic frowns at me, as do the police. Quickly I fill them in, leaving out my mad thoughts, just saying that she came into Dad’s office once to get a quote.

  ‘Hmm,’ the older policeman says, and I see the pair of them exchange a quick look.

  ‘Honestly,’ I say, ‘Gilly’s nice, she didn’t do this. She’s not who you ought to be looking at.’ I pause. ‘But I don’t know who is.’

  The police leave after that, taking Beatrice with them. I hold the older one’s card between my fingers tightly, as though it is a lifeline. I stare at his name, printed on the front. DI Ellison. I hope he knows what he’s doing.

  ‘Come on,’ Dom says, lifting my bag onto his shoulder. ‘Let’s get out of here.’ He leads the way out of the flat, stumbles slightly at the doorway, his body slumping slightly into the frame.

  ‘You always drink too much when you’re with Andy,’ I say. He doesn’t answer me. I don’t know if he’s heard.

  45

  27 March 2017

  The day of the anniversary

  London

  Dominic

  Dominic wakes up from a terrible night’s sleep at the Travelodge. His mouth feels furry from last night’s beer, he looks over and sees that Corinne is already up, pacing the room like a caged lion. She pounces on him when he opens his eyes.

  ‘We need to call the locksmith.’

  He obliges, picks up his phone, Corinne hovering anxiously at his side in her navy pyjamas.

  ‘Someone will be with you in about an hour,’ the man on the phone says. ‘Meet us at the property, it’ll be seventy-five quid.’

  He gives the guy his card details. Corinne is very on edge, which doesn’t surprise him. He is pretty freaked out himself. Who the hell has come into the flat and knifed a doll in the stomach? Dominic shudders. They’d sat up last night after the police left, huddled together in the bare Travelodge room, discussing possibilities. In the middle of the night, Dominic had woken up in a cold sweat, thinking of the broken doll’s plastic blue eyes, of them staring back at him accusingly from the table. He wishes he’d been there with Corinne when she found her. He should have been. If he had maybe none of this would have happened.

  Dominic doesn’t want to admit that he was out with Erin last night in the first place, wishes to God that the whole thing had never happened. Not that there was anything in it, of course, she is just a friend, but he hadn’t mentioned it at the time and now it seems too late. It will make it sound worse, like it is something it’s not. If only he could wind back the clock. Instead, he feels like the world is speeding up, as if events are happening faster than he can think, faster than he can process. At the centre of his mind is Corinne and their baby.

  They get a bus back to the flat early in the morning. It is deathly quiet. It looks untouched.

  Dominic tries to think clearly. He boils the kettle, the sound loud in the quiet kitchen. He makes them both hot drinks, coffee for himself and boiling water for Corinne. Neither of them have really slept.

  Suddenly there is a knock at the door and Corinne jumps, spills her drink over the table. Dominic goes to the door, pulls back both bolts. It’s the locksmith, a young guy armed with a briefcase of tools. He grins at them both.

  ‘Morning all.’

  Corinne says she will wait with the locksmith, wants to make sure it is all done properly. Dominic hesitates. He doesn’t really want to leave her alone.

  ‘Will you ring me when you get to the gallery, Cor?’

  She nods. ‘Yes. I’m going to take the Tube. I don’t want to walk alone.’ She swallows. ‘I’m supposed to be meeting Mum and Ashley tonight, remember? It’s the anniversary of my dad.’ Her hand goes to her throat. ‘We were supposed to mark the occasion.’

  Dominic nods. ‘Of course, shit, I’m meant to be picking your mum up. Do you still want me to do that? Do you still want to go?’

  Corinne nods. ‘We have to go, Dom. It’s what we always planned to do. I want to take flowers to the grave.’

  ‘OK,’ he says. ‘You’re right, you should. We shouldn’t let this – this thing scare us. I’ll drop your Mum off at the cemetery then pick you up from the restaurant afterwards. I don’t want you coming back alone late at night. We can come home together, work out what to do.’

  He puts his arms around her. Corinne’s heart is skittering against his chest, like a caged bird. As they embrace he catches sight of the fridge behind her, the shiny white surface with the grainy image attached.

  ‘Is that—?’ They break apart, and he picks up the scan. In spite of everything, even though the locksmith is right next to them fiddling with the locks, Dominic kisses Corinne, a huge smile breaking out over his face.

  ‘I can’t believe it! Wow, Cor. When? How?’

  She’s smiling too, her eyes
teary. ‘I know. I’m so sorry, at my appointment yesterday, the nurses just asked me if I could have a scan while I was there, and you were at work already so I thought I’d just have it, surprise you. Amazing, right?’

  He nods. There is a lump in his throat. He feels a thud of guilt. He can’t believe he forgot the appointment. ‘The appointment? Oh God, Cor. I’m so sorry. I completely forgot.’

  He has to turn away from her, terrified she will be able to see the guilt on his face. ‘I am so, so sorry. I can’t believe you went alone.’ He feels like crying.

  ‘Hey,’ she says softly, taking his hand. ‘Don’t be silly, you’ve had lots on at work and we’d already done the home tests. I thought it was just a routine check-up. But the nurse said I should have an early scan. That’s all. You’ll be there for the next one. The big one is at twelve weeks!’

  He nods. ‘Of course I will.’

  ‘I wanted to show you last night,’ Corinne says. ‘But then, well.’ They both look at the tabletop, thinking of Beatrice’s slashed body, the torn crimson folds of her velvet dress.

  He kisses her forehead and then leans his own against it. ‘It’s amazing, really amazing.’

  He can see the edge of her smile. ‘It is, isn’t it?’

  ‘I love you, Corinne,’ Dominic says. He leans back and rubs her cheek with the back of his thumb. He fastens the little picture back onto the fridge, marvelling at the blurry shape as he does so. It is a brilliant feeling.

  ‘I’ll pick you up tonight,’ he says. ‘Make sure you’re safe.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She smiles at him, a proper smile this time. ‘You’re the best.’

  As he stares at the picture sitting under the bright red heart magnet, he feels a sudden shudder, thinks of her standing at the sink last night, finding the mutilated doll. Guilt shivers again down his spine. I’m not, he wants to whisper. I’ve let you down. I should have been here. But he doesn’t say anything, he just kisses Corinne, pulls her familiar warm body tightly against his. It’s partly cowardice keeping him quiet, he knows, but it’s also a form of protection. Corinne and their tiny baby need to be kept safe from everything right now. And he’s going to make sure they are.

  46

  27 March 2017

  The day of the anniversary

  London

  Ashley

  Lucy hasn’t put a toe out of line since the police brought her home. She sits on the sofa with her brother, helps Ashley in the kitchen, goes to and from school without complaint. Her high heels stay on the rack, her eye make-up in the tin.

  ‘It really scared her, didn’t it?’ James says to Ashley. He is putting on his tie in their bedroom, standing in front of the mirror. Ashley is up early with him. Holly woke at four and after Ashley had calmed her down there didn’t seem to be any point going back to sleep. She called the doctor’s surgery when it opened at seven and asked for Doctor McPherson, hoping to find out why the blood test results are taking so long.

  ‘I’m sorry, Doctor McPherson isn’t in this morning,’ the receptionist had told her, the sing-song of her voice too bright in Ashley’s ear. ‘I’ll make a note of your call.’ Ashley had hung up, sighed, stroked Holly’s blonde hair with the ends of her fingers. Today is the anniversary and she feels a sense of weight on her shoulders, a pressure behind her eyelids. She has a lot to do before she can get to the cemetery tonight. James is looking at her expectantly, waiting for an answer. One thing at a time, that’s the way to do it. She nods.

  ‘I think it did scare her, yes, which is a good thing, I suppose. It really scared me! I think she frightened herself.’

  ‘Has she mentioned anything else to you?’

  Ashley shakes her head. ‘No. I’ve asked. She says the older girl has gone quiet, she hasn’t been able to get hold of her since that night.’ Ashley shudders. ‘Little bitch. She won’t even tell me her name. I think Luce is secretly really hurt by it, more than she lets on.’ She sighs. ‘I’ve been thinking about sneaking a look at her phone, looking on this Instagram thing to see if I can work out who it was she was talking to. I don’t like the thought of her putting herself out there online like that. Sharing stuff with this weirdo girl.’

  James nods. ‘It was seductive, I suppose, for Luce. Imagine, at that age. Someone older paying you attention. Taking you out. It’s a big deal.’

  ‘The internet’s a dangerous place,’ Ashley says. ‘I just keep thinking – what was this girl’s intention? Why befriend her at all? It’s weird. And then to just leave her like that, alone on the street? Unconscious? It’s really odd, James. Creepy.’ She pauses. ‘It’s almost like . . .’ She shakes her head, doesn’t want to say the words aloud.

  James turns around, tie in place. He reaches for his jacket. ‘Go on. Almost like what?’

  Ashley looks at him. ‘It’s almost like she left her for dead.’

  The room seems to chill slightly. For a moment, Ashley and James stare at each other and then Benji shouts for some juice in bed; the spell is broken.

  ‘Ashley!’ James says. He forces out a laugh. ‘Don’t be so dramatic.’ He comes towards her, circles his arms round her waist. ‘It was some older kid who bit off more than she could chew, that’s all. Panicked when she saw the state Luce got into. She probably wasn’t much older herself.’

  Ashley nods her head against his chest. ‘OK. OK. Sorry. I just feel like there’s something weird about it, something not right. Do you think it was this girl making phone calls to the house, trying to get hold of Lucy and hanging up when she got me instead?’ She sighs, shivers despite the sun crowding through the window. ‘God, James. When I think of the police at the door like that . . . How close did we come to losing Lucy for good?’

  James looks her in the eye. ‘We didn’t though, Ash. We aren’t going to lose her. I promise. And the calls?’ He shrugs. ‘Well, could be her, I suppose. She doesn’t sound particularly mature.’

  Ashley remembers the laughing, the horrible sound of it echoing down the phone. She wants to say more, to tell James how worried she feels, but she keeps her mouth closed. He has bigger things on his mind at the moment.

  He is straightening up, looking at himself again in the mirror. He looks nervous and Ashley goes to his side. Today is the day. His boss Daniel is making a decision: James will find out whether he keeps his job.

  ‘You look wonderful.’ Ashley reaches for her husband’s hand and they stand like that, side by side, looking at their reflections in the floor-length glass. Now both of them look nervous.

  ‘I’ve told you, I’m here for you,’ Ashley says. ‘As long as you’re honest, as long as you tell me exactly what Daniel says. No more secrecy. No more lies.’

  ‘I never lied to you!’

  ‘Evasion of the truth then.’

  He nods, blows out his breath. ‘OK. OK. I need to go. Thank you, Ash. For supporting me. For believing in us.’

  She kisses him, knowing that he means it, that she means it too. His cheeks are damp, freshly shaven.

  ‘I love you, James. No matter what. Remember that. And go fight. You can do it!’

  She grins at him, waves him off from the window, mentally praying that he comes back with good news. The room is quiet when he leaves; she makes their bed, pulls the sheets taut across the mattress. The children aren’t all up yet, it is still early, but Benji will be rocketing around in his room. He is full of energy at the moment, the only one who is. Holly has had another dose of the medicine from the doctor, settled down into sleep again. Ashley had stared at her baby’s closed eyelids for a while after she’d stopped crying, as though she could look inside her daughter’s mind, see the nightmares for herself. She hates the thought of her baby being scared, even in dreams.

  The telephone rings as Ashley is on the way downstairs to make a start on the breakfast and pour Benji some juice. She pauses. Perhaps it is James, maybe he’s forgotten something.

  Ashley runs down the stairs, feels her socked feet slip slightly on the polished wood and grabs
the rail. Breaking her neck, now that wouldn’t do. She picks up the phone.

  ‘Hello?’ She waits. Nobody speaks. There is a strange sound, sort of a squeak, then silence. It is happening all over again.

  Something inside Ashley snaps.

  ‘Whoever this is, stop calling here! Just fucking stop it!’ she shouts into the phone, and she slams down the receiver, bangs it down again and again until the plastic begins to crack. She stops, slightly out of breath, rests her forehead against the cool of the hallway wall. Before she can cry, she quickly dials 1471, expecting the usual voice telling her the number is ex-directory, but to her surprise it methodically lists out a number she knows better than her own: her Mum’s.

  Relief courses through her, and then guilt. Mum. It’s just Mum! Thank God. Ashley cringes. Must have been a bad connection and she’d screamed those awful words down the phone. What is wrong with her? She is so tired.

  She presses 5 to return the call, but the line is now engaged. Perhaps she’s called Corinne. She hopes she’s not telling her sister about what she shouted. Her face flushes with embarrassment and shame. There’s a thud upstairs, a patter of feet and the sound of the toilet flushing; Benji is up. Ashley opens the cupboard and gets out the orange juice for him, starts laying out the bowls for the children’s cereal. She takes a small scoop of coffee granules from the jar and crunches. She’s sure her mum will call back.

  47

  27 March 2017

  The day of the anniversary

  London

  Corinne

  The locksmith is really kind. He gets everything sorted then hands me a brand-new set of keys for the flat. I grip them tightly – finally. What I’ve been wanting for weeks. The door closes perfectly, locks easily, I’ve checked.

  ‘There you go,’ he told me, ‘All done for you. Only person who’ll be able to get into this flat is you. And your partner of course.’ He smiled at me, nodded his head in the direction of the fridge. ‘Couldn’t help but overhear your news. Congratulations!’