In Her Shadow

by Mark Edwards

  She poured herself another glass of wine and threw it back. Then poured another.

  She didn’t want to think about any of it any more. She wanted to knock herself out.

  Jessica dreamed she was running through a school playground at dusk. The school looked like William Peacocke but the brickwork was crumbling and ivy crept up its facade, as if the school had stood abandoned for decades. All the children, all those poor children, she thought, though her dreaming brain couldn’t tell her what had happened to them. All she knew was that she was being chased by someone in a grey car, the vehicle barely visible in the fading light, the driver hidden behind tinted windows. Clutching her chest, she ran, past the climbing frame and goalposts, leaving the tarmac of the playground and entering the field. The car was getting closer, its engine growling, closer and closer until it was on her heels, but somehow she was able to keep just ahead as she hurtled down a slope.

  She heard Olivia calling to her from somewhere ahead, hidden by shadows, a desperate cry that squeezed Jessica’s heart. She tried to speak, to call her daughter’s name, but she had forgotten how to. She kept running, muscles aching, knees and lungs begging her to stop, but she had to keep going, had to find Olivia, had to—

  A door slammed.

  She woke up.

  In those first disorientating seconds she didn’t know where she was. Will was not beside her. She wasn’t even in bed. No, she was on the sofa and the TV was still on. She must have fallen asleep. Half a glass of wine sat on the coffee table before her, the bottle empty beside it. Her mouth felt as if some small furry creature had set up home on her tongue, and she was shivering. The heating had gone off and the room was so cold she could almost have been outside.

  She had a flash of herself running across the playing field in her dream.

  The slamming door. Had it been in her head? On TV? Or had it been in real life? Had a noise in the house woken her?

  Was there someone in the house?

  The stalker. The man in the car.

  She pushed herself off the sofa, wincing at the stiffness in her neck, and looked around for something she could use as a weapon. There was a heavy brass candlestick above the fireplace. She picked it up and weighed it in her hand. She looked around for her phone, then remembered she’d left it charging in the kitchen.

  She opened the living room door and peered out into the hallway. The light was on, and everything was silent and still. She tried to persuade herself she was worrying about nothing, that the noise had been in her dream. Or maybe it had been the dog. He occasionally barked in the night and had been known to knock things over. Most likely, that’s what had happened.

  Or it was Olivia.

  Olivia, throwing things around in her bedroom again.

  The thought propelled her into the hallway. The floorboards were cold through her thin socks. There was no noise coming from upstairs and the kitchen was closer so she decided to check in there first, rather than risk disturbing her sleeping daughter.

  She turned on the kitchen light and Caspar looked up at her from his bed, hoisting himself up on his ageing legs and trotting towards her, tail wagging. There was no sign that he was responsible for the noise. After she petted him he lumbered back to his bed.

  She grabbed a glass and filled it with water which she gulped down, washing away the furry creature on her tongue. Perhaps the noise had been in her dream after all.

  No, whispered a little voice in her head. It was Olivia.

  She needed to check. Taking the candlestick with her, she left the kitchen and climbed the stairs to the dark middle floor of the house. She flicked on the light, bracing herself, half expecting something to leap out at her. The loose floorboard at the top of the stairs creaked as she trod over it.

  Gently, as quietly as she could, she pushed open Olivia’s bedroom door and slipped inside.

  The first thing she saw in the orange glow of the night light was a couple of small dark shapes on the floor.

  Tiny bodies.

  She shook herself. They were soft toys, that was all.

  But there was something wrong in the room. She couldn’t hear her daughter’s soft breathing. And the covers were pulled back.

  Trying not to panic, she dashed over to Olivia’s bed.

  It was empty.

  Chapter 18

  ‘Olivia!’

  Jessica hurtled along the landing, skidding on the carpet, gripped by a blind desperation. First, she checked her and Will’s bedroom. She could imagine Olivia crawling into their bed, looking for Mummy and Daddy, and falling asleep. But the bed was empty and undisturbed, the quilt smooth and flat.

  She ran into Felix’s room. It was a mess, with clothes hanging from drawers and video game cartridges scattered across the carpet. Normally this sight would poke directly at Jessica’s inner neat freak but right now she couldn’t care less. Olivia was not in the room. That was all that mattered.

  It was the car. The grey car. She ran over to Felix’s bedroom window and yanked the curtains aside, half expecting to see the car parked outside, or pulling away, Olivia pressing her palms against the window, screaming for help. But the street was empty. Maybe he’d already been and gone, the child abductor, spiriting Olivia away to a dark basement somewhere, an empty warehouse, an abandoned outhouse, the kind of place where children were murdered.

  And worse.

  She dug her fingernails into her palm. Get a grip, she told herself. Get a fucking grip. She had locked all the doors and windows. There was no way anyone could have got into the house.

  So perhaps Olivia had wandered out. Perhaps she had looked for Jessica in her bed and, using whatever logic four-year-olds use, decided she must have left the house and gone looking for her.

  No, that was impossible. The bolts on the front and back doors were too high for Olivia to reach.

  Except . . . A foggy memory came back to her: she had let Caspar out for a final wee shortly before she’d fallen asleep. Had she remembered to slide the bolt back into place? She sprinted downstairs and into the kitchen.

  The bolt was in place at the top of the door. Olivia had to be in the house.

  But where?

  Feeling a little less panicked, she looked in the downstairs rooms, then went back up the stairs, calling Olivia’s name. There was no response. She looked in the spare room, which was mainly used to store junk, boxes full of stuff that hadn’t yet made it into the loft. There was nowhere in this room for a little girl to hide, but one of Olivia’s teddy bears lay just inside the door. That was strange. It was unusual too for this door to be open. There was a wooden cabinet just inside the room. Was that the noise Jessica had heard? This door banging into the cabinet as Olivia pushed it open?

  She picked up the teddy, which was lying face down, turned it over and almost dropped it. She blinked, thinking she might be hallucinating, but no – this was real.

  The teddy bear’s eyes had been ripped off, white stuffing spilling from the holes.

  Had Caspar done it? He had been known to chew up soft toys and pull bits off them. Not possible. Jessica was sure this bear had been sitting on Olivia’s quilt when she put her to bed, and the dog hadn’t been upstairs.

  Which meant Olivia must have removed the eyes.

  Olivia or someone else.

  Something else.

  She remembered the dark shapes she had seen on Olivia’s floor. She had been so fixated on Olivia’s absence that she hadn’t given them a second thought. But now she needed to see. Fear squeezed her insides but she fought it and went back into Olivia’s bedroom. She dropped to her hands and knees and grabbed the closest toy, a brown dog.

  Its eyes were missing too, stuffing creeping out of its face.

  Lying next to the dog was Olivia’s giraffe, Stretch. Her very favourite toy. His eyes had been cut off too. Horrified, Jessica threw it on to the floor, along with the dog and teddy bear. As they landed, she saw a pair of scissors, poking out from beneath the chair. It was a sharp pair of sci
ssors that had gone missing ages ago. What were they doing in Olivia’s room?

  Jessica stood in the centre of the room, semi-delirious, and closed her eyes. When she opened them she was sure the soft toys had shuffled a couple of inches closer to her, with their sightless faces turned towards her, and in her head she heard the giraffe speak to her in the high-pitched voice Olivia always used for it.

  Help us.

  Finding it hard to breathe, Jessica threw herself out of the room, hitting the wall and sinking to her haunches. She had her hands in her hair. Olivia had taken a pair of scissors and cut the eyes out of her favourite toys. It was almost impossible to believe. Jessica reached forward and pulled the bedroom door closed, gripped by the belief that they were going to come out after her, grotesque, blind animals, lurching towards her. She could picture them in there now, coming to life, shuffling towards the door.

  Help us.

  Pushing herself to her feet, she ran back along the landing, towards the master bedroom, away from Olivia’s room. And then she heard it: a faint, high-pitched noise. A whimper.

  It had come from above. From Will’s office.

  She hurtled up the stairs, grabbing the banister to swing round into Will’s office. She flicked on the light, expecting to see her daughter, but there was no sign of her.

  ‘Olivia?’ she said.

  Silence.

  ‘Olivia! Where are you?’

  A sob came from beneath the desk. Almost fainting with relief, Jessica dropped to her knees and found herself looking at her daughter.

  She was under the desk, back pressed against the wall, arms wrapped around her knees, face pressed into a pyjama sleeve. Jessica shuffled forward and put out a hand.

  ‘Sweetheart. Come on out.’

  Olivia lifted her face. Her eyes were pink with the echoes of tears. ‘I’m frightened.’

  Jessica scooted beneath the desk and put her hands on Olivia’s shoulders. She didn’t want to forcibly pull her out. ‘There’s nothing to be scared of.’

  Olivia still didn’t move.

  ‘Come on. Please, Livvy.’

  Slowly, glacially, Olivia inched forward. Unable to hold back any longer, Jessica grabbed hold of her shivering daughter and pulled her into an embrace. Olivia was as cold as a body in a morgue. Jessica lifted her up and carried her downstairs to the master bedroom, putting her into the big double bed. She got in beside her and wrapped the quilt around them, holding on to her daughter’s skinny little body. Eventually, Olivia stopped shivering.

  ‘Livvy, tell me what happened. Why did you go up to Daddy’s office?’

  ‘Because they were watching us.’

  ‘Who were?’

  Olivia didn’t reply at first. She buried her face against Jessica’s chest. When she spoke her voice was muffled. ‘My animals.’

  Jessica pictured them, eyeless and sad, and shuddered. Again she had an image of the toys coming to life, groping their way along the hallway towards them, whispering Help us as they made their sad journey towards the little girl who had hurt them.

  ‘That’s why you . . . removed their eyes?’

  A little nod. ‘I’m sorry. I broked them. I broked Stretch.’ Her voice trembled and she began to cry.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Jessica whispered. ‘We can fix them.’ She hoped they could, anyway. She could still hardly believe that Olivia had done it. Had managed to do it. It must have taken a considerable amount of strength and dexterity. Olivia must have been . . . what?

  Possessed.

  She shook that thought away immediately, even if there was a grain of truth in it. Something had possessed Olivia. Some need. Some fear. And it had made her strong enough, desperate enough, to dig the scissors into the toys she cherished.

  Olivia was on the verge of crying herself to sleep. Normally Jessica would have let her. But tonight, now, she needed to talk to her daughter. To find out what the hell was going on.

  ‘What did you mean, sweetheart? When you said they were watching “us”?’

  ‘Me and Izzy.’

  Jessica shuffled backwards so she could see her daughter’s face. ‘Does Auntie Izzy talk to you?’

  A nod. Then Olivia touched the side of her skull.

  ‘She’s inside your head?’ Olivia flinched away. ‘Come on, sweetheart, there’s no need to be scared. Please, I need you to talk to me. Do you hear Izzy speaking to you?’

  ‘I’m not allowed to talk about it.’

  Jessica sat up straighter. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s a secret.’

  ‘What? Did Izzy tell you it’s a secret?’

  Pursed lips. No response. She was about to clam up completely.

  Jessica changed tack. ‘Do you think Izzy would talk to me too?’

  ‘No. She only talks to me.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Because no one is allowed to know.’

  ‘To know that she’s talking to you?’

  Olivia yawned and her eyes drooped. Oh God, she was falling asleep. Jessica couldn’t let her – not just yet. She said, ‘Is that why you had to cut out your animals’ eyes? Because they saw Izzy?’

  A tiny nod. ‘Izzy doesn’t want anyone else to see her.’

  ‘Is that what she told you?’

  Olivia tried to turn away, clearly getting fed up with all these questions.

  But Jessica had to keep asking. ‘Does Izzy tell you secrets?’

  A long pause. ‘Yes.’

  ‘What kind of secrets?’ Sensing that her daughter was about to shut down, she said, ‘You can tell me. Auntie Izzy was my sister. I’m your mum. Can you tell me what kind of secrets they are?’

  Silence. Olivia’s eyes closed and her chin dipped. She had fallen asleep. Gently, Jessica laid her down, putting her head on the pillow. She sighed. It was exasperating. She lay down, putting her arm around Olivia.

  The little girl wasn’t fully asleep. She whispered something.

  Jessica sat up, unsure of what she’d heard. ‘What was that?’

  Olivia didn’t respond. Her breathing had changed now. She was fast asleep.

  Jessica got out of bed. There was no way she was going to be able to get back to sleep now. She went back up to Will’s office. She had been hit with an overwhelming need to smoke a cigarette, and she opened the drawer in which she’d found the packet the other day when she was looking for the radiator key.

  The pack of cigarettes wasn’t there.

  Slumping back in Will’s desk chair, she felt a flare of anger. He’d taken them with him. He was smoking again. Smoking while he was away with their son. She was tempted to call him right now, wake him up and tell him what had been going on at home, and as she imagined herself ranting at him it came to her: what Olivia had said as she fell asleep.

  ‘I drawed it.’

  Chapter 19

  October 2012

  Isabel gazed from the passenger window at the passing houses. She and Nina were on their way to meet a supplier of lubricants to talk about creating a Mind+Body brand of lube. It was potentially very exciting – the idea was that eventually they would have a whole range of products – but Isabel was finding it hard to concentrate.

  Her thoughts kept drifting to Darpak. A week had passed since she’d found the selfie. She’d only had one other chance since to look at his phone. There were no more naked pics or mysterious messages, and the original selfie had been deleted, along with the phone number of the woman who’d sent it.

  So the evidence of his adultery was gone, and she cursed herself, wishing she’d noted down the phone number or, better still, taken a photo of his screen. Every day she went to confront him but couldn’t get the words out. If it had been her marriage alone, she could have faced it, but she was terrified of what it would mean for the business too. Darpak held forty-nine per cent of the shares in the company, an arrangement that had made sense when they set it up because he had provided the start-up capital.

  If they split, she would need to buy Darpak ou
t, unless he was willing to give her his shares, and finding the cash to do that, when the value of the company was booming, would be a nightmare. He could make things very difficult for her, and the thought of a long, painful court battle was too much to bear.

  She hadn’t slept properly since, tormenting herself with doubt and fear, constantly on the verge of shaking him awake and asking him about what she’d seen. Hating herself for not having the courage to do it.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  Nina had taken her eyes off the road to stare at her. They were stuck in stationary traffic.

  ‘What? Yes, I’m fine.’

  ‘You look like you’re about to cry.’

  Isabel turned her face away, towards the other vehicles. A tattooed guy in a white van winked at her. Behind him the golden arches of a McDonald’s loomed. ‘I’m tired, that’s all.’

  The traffic inched forward. ‘Are you sure that’s all it is?’

  ‘Yes.’

  But as she said this word, a tear, fat and treacherous, escaped and rolled down her cheek.

  ‘Oh my God. Isabel. What’s wrong?’

  Suddenly Isabel felt the need to talk to someone. As well as being her assistant, Nina was Darpak’s little sister. On one hand, that made her the worst person to talk to. On the other hand, she knew him. Maybe she could offer reassurance. Or give Isabel good advice.

  It seemed that her body had already made its mind up, as more tears came. She swore at herself as she wiped them away with the sleeve of her new coat. This wasn’t like her. She wasn’t weak. She didn’t cry like this.

  ‘I think . . . I need a coffee,’ Isabel said, half-laughing and half-crying, gesturing towards the McDonald’s.

  Nina nodded. She sounded the horn and edged her way through the traffic, ignoring the angry gestures of the other drivers, including the man in the white van. Eventually, reluctantly, they let her through. She turned into the McDonald’s and drove up to the Drive-Thru window to order two coffees.