by Ruth Dugdall
“At the time I thought it must have been Dominic’s, and I just put it in the kitchen drawer and forgot about it. But afterwards— after the fire—I remembered it and showed him. It wasn’t his after all. So then I began to think about my dreams. Maybe they weren’t dreams at all. If she really had . . .”
“You think she touched you whilst you slept?”
“She’s a freak! I’m going to show you something . . .” Dominic dashed from the room, collecting a carrier bag from the cupboard and returning to the room. He emptied the bag onto the floor. It looked like a bundle of fabric scraps, all frayed and in strips. All white.
“It’s my wedding dress,” Emma whispered, reaching to touch one of the silk pieces. “She did this.”
Unable to stop himself any longer, Dominic erupted. “The twisted bitch! She was in our home, creeping around when we were asleep. Setting fire to the house. She burned our child to death—he hadn’t even seen his first Christmas. And you think that sick woman deserves to be released?”
Emma began to sob, reaching for him, and buried herself into him. He held her tight against himself if only to stop the urge to throw her to the floor. From above came the baby’s cry.
Dominic disentangled himself but Emma wiped her tears away, her lips pursed tightly together. “I’ll go to her, Dominic.”
Upstairs, the crying was replaced by the low sound of a mother soothing her baby.
“That’s our daughter,” said Dominic.
Cate looked surprised, “I didn’t know you had another child. How old is she?”
“Eight months. You can’t imagine how that little girl has made us feel—she can’t take the pain away, nothing can. But, my God, at least she gives us a reason to live.”
Cate nodded slightly.
“After we lost Luke we were heading for divorce. There was nothing to keep us together, but then Emma fell pregnant and that changed everything. It saved us.”
“Has it helped your wife to move on?”
Dominic ran a hand through his hair. “She’s had a reason to get up in the morning. A reason to go out each day. And she never complains about being tired or any of that other crap that used to get her down with Luke. We both count our blessings. So, yes, since our daughter was born she has seemed better. She’s still on sleeping tablets, of course.”
They both listened to the mewling baby overhead.
“After Luke died,” Dominic said, “she couldn’t bear to be alone in the house. I had to give up my job at the boarding school, she just couldn’t cope with me being away. She had nightmares, and heard noises in the night. It was better for the first few months, after the birth, but just recently . . .” He felt himself wavering.
“Yes?”
“Look, I don’t want to make out that my wife is mentally unstable, but I want you to know how much damage that Wilks woman has done. Maybe it’s knowing the parole date was looming, but over the last few weeks Emma’s nightmares have returned.”
Dominic scrubbed a mark on his trousers, and then looked up at Cate.
“Emma says she’s seen someone hanging around the house. A woman, or maybe a girl. Last week she said she saw her looking in through the window. Then Emma got it in her head that the backdoor key was missing. She called me and I came straight home, drove like an idiot. But when I got here I found the key, just where it should be, on a hook by the back door.”
“Have you reported this?”
Dominic looked incredulous, and his lip curled. “What for? There was no one looking in the window, no key was taken. The only person who would want to do that is Rose, and she’s behind bars. It’s Emma’s brain playing tricks. That’s what I’m saying to you. That even a new a baby can’t cure her of the fear. She’ll never feel safe again.”
Just then footsteps came down the stairs, and Emma appeared in the doorway, speaking low and evenly to the child in her arms. The little girl was in a pink babygro, and she had wisps of golden curls.
“She’s lovely,” Cate said, “what’s her name?”
Emma gave her daughter a kiss on the cheek and then turned to Cate. “Hope,” she said. “Our daughter’s name is Hope.” Emma sat on the L-shaped sofa, leaned forward, and strapped her daughter into the bouncy chair. It was pink with yellow stars.
Cate couldn’t start her car, her hands were shaking so much. Tears blurred her eyes. It was useless to fight, so she let go of the tentative hold she’d kept throughout the awful interview, finally allowing herself to be a mother again, rather than a probation officer.
As she cried, she thought of Emma and Dominic Hatcher.
Emma was a woman defined by her terrible loss and she must live with the fact that she allowed Rose into her home. Luke could even now be running around on podgy infant legs, clumsily kicking a football and rushing into her embrace.
Cate thought how easily life could be taken. If anything happened to Amelia, she knew she would never survive.
And Rose Wilks dared to hope that she would be released after four years, but Emma and Dominic Hatcher would never be free, never be released from grief. If Rose hadn’t been in the house, hadn’t lit that cigarette . . . Murder or manslaughter, intentional or a terrible accident, it was still Rose who caused the fire that killed Luke.
It was Cate the mother, not the professional, who placed the key in the ignition and drove to the prison. What a waste. What a senseless waste.
44
Black Book Entry
Emma had no family close by so she used me more and more to babysit while she popped to the post office or the shops. I’d always try to persuade her not to rush back and she never did. She even began to arrange lunch dates, sending and receiving texts on her phone and saying there was someone she wanted to meet with, would I be able to babysit for a few hours? She enjoyed her time away from Luke and would return flushed and happy.
Finally I was asked to babysit for a whole day. It was Emma and Dominic’s first wedding anniversary. If it was me I would have wanted to celebrate as a family, go on a day trip somewhere, but they didn’t want to take Luke. I was glad that they wouldn’t be back until the evening. Luke and I would have our own celebration.
When I arrived at the house Dominic was full of himself, boasting about how he’d managed to get tickets for the owners’ enclosure at Newmarket, through one of his pupil’s fathers who was some business hotshot and owned a racehorse. I tried to look impressed. His white hair was smoothed with Brylcream and he wore a pink shirt, too trendy for a man his age. As I made all the right noises about how smart he looked I was thinking how pathetic he was. He was impatient to be off; having finished admiring himself in the hall mirror, he called upstairs for Emma to hurry.
She appeared at the top of the stairs with Luke in her arms. I called his name, and he smiled at me, gurgling as she handed him over, and I couldn’t resist kissing the top of his head, where his golden hair was growing unruly. I could have cuddled him all morning, but I forced myself to look at Emma. She was dressed in a ridiculously short pink dress and hat. The skirt was too tight on her stomach, as she hadn’t yet lost all the weight she’d put on in pregnancy.
“You look lovely, Emma.”
She kept pulling at her skirt and fiddling with her straps.
“Oh, Rose, it’s so long since I’ve been to anything like this. Dominic’s colleagues are mainly women, and I feel like my brain’s turned to mush since having Luke. And I don’t know anything about horseracing.”
“You’ll be fine, Emma. Just choose the horses with the best names. Have a few glasses of wine and you’ll soon relax.”
“You think so?”
“They’ll love you.”
Dominic was standing at the open door but Emma hesitated by the hall mirror, fussing with her hair. It took all my patience not to scream at her. I bit my tongue as she told me which toys Luke preferred, what time he had his milk. “There’s a bottle made up ready in the fridge.”
We stood at the window, watching the car pull out
.
I held up his arm, so he was waving goodbye.
It was a fresh spring day and I wanted to push the pram. Not Emma’s pram, but the one I’d bought for Joel. I lifted it out from the boot of my car. It was immaculate. I’d refused to get rid of it. I’d known that one day it would come in useful. I left it on the porch and fetched Luke from his blue bouncy chair.
“Look,” I said, “this is your new pram. Do you like it?”
He gurgled at my excited voice, kicking legs in joy. As I lowered him onto the mattress I thought of how this simple pleasure should have been mine a million times over.
I walked into town slowly, pushing the pram, taking in the world. I talked constantly, pointing out dogs and birds and motorcars. A new baby attracts attention, and several women looked in the pram to admire my boy. I wasn’t selfish; I stopped and indulged them.
“He’s three months old. Yes, he’s a good baby—he was poorly when he was born but now he’s thriving.”
But after a while he became fretful, so I decided to take him to our home.
As I pushed the pram over the doorstep to our flat I knew what a newly married man must feel, lifting his bride over the threshold. It was a new beginning. I carried Luke up the stairs and along the hall into the nursery. Like the pram, his room was immaculate. I showed him the cherry wood cot, the jointed teddy bear in its pristine waistcoat that had never had a child’s love. I showed him the tiny birds nest, and told him how the babies in it had died.
It was Luke’s room now; everything in it belonged to him.
When Emma arrived back it was just after five. She walked with a wobble and when she snatched Luke from my arms I could smell alcohol on her breath. Dominic followed, looking sulky.
“You’re back early,” I said, as Dominic shrugged off his jacket.
“Emma totally overdid it. Downed a bottle of champagne before we’d even eaten the main course.”
He went to the kitchen and I heard the click of a beer bottle being opened. Emma was swaying too much to notice, and I took Luke from her, afraid she would drop him.
Dominic walked back in, drinking from the bottle. He seemed to have forgotten that I was still there. “I’ve never been so embarrassed.”
“Oh, sod off! When did I last have a chance to drink? And why didn’t you warn me how stuck-up your friends are?”
“They’re my pupils’ parents. They pay my wages.”
“Well, they were boring. All that talk about jockeys and trainers and handicaps—not one of them asked me about my life. Not one!”
“Well, what do you expect them to say? You were slurring your words and spilling your wine on them.”
Emma shot her husband a reproachful glare. “I was bored, Dominic. And I’m still young, remember? Not like you. I just want to have some fun for a change. God, I’m so sick of this house and nappies and bottles and being tired. I just wanted to have one night when I could just be me.”
“For God’s sake, Emma! What the hell’s wrong with you? You’re talking like you’re in prison. You’ve got a beautiful home, a healthy son. Me. Stop being such an ungrateful bitch.”
She swung round, staggering forward, “Don’t you speak to me like that!”
Dominic was furious, “You ruined our day. What a waste of a ticket. There’s a concert on at six. I’ve a good mind to go back on my own.”
“Well, go then. I’m not stopping you.”
“Fine.”
Emma sat heavily on the sofa. “You piss off and enjoy your self. Don’t worry about me.”
Dominic grabbed his coat and stalked out of the house.
When the door slammed Emma stared at it, fury on her face.
“Luke’s just been fed,” I told her. I’d already tipped the formula milk down the sink. “And I’ve given him his bath.”
“God, I’m sick of this.” She closed her eyes and leaned back into the sofa.
“You look shattered. Why don’t I put Luke to bed for you?”
I took him upstairs. He looked so perfect in the cot, so cosy and soft and drifting into sleep that I just wanted to climb in and lay down next to him. As I kissed him I said I’d come back later. I looked at him, and touched his cheek to seal my promise.
When I got back downstairs to Emma I saw that she hadn’t moved.
“Was your day out that bad?” I asked, sitting on the floor, near her feet, collecting the scattered toys and putting them in a pile.
“Fucking awful,” she cried.
“What is it, Emma?” I sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. “Is it just too much drink?”
“What?” she sniffed, wiping her nose with her hand. “No—not that. It’s Dominic. Sometimes I feel like one of his bloody pupils. He treats me like a fucking child. I just wish he could talk to me like a normal person. You know, like two equals.”
“Maybe it’s because he’s so much older than you?”
“He’s not that much older. He just likes lording it over me. A marriage shouldn’t be like this. It should be fun.”
“Like your first marriage?” I don’t know how I managed to say it. I held my breath.
She thought about it, biting a torn nail. “My first husband was totally different to Dominic. I didn’t see how easy he was to be with until now.”
“Do you ever see your ex-husband?”
I held my breath waiting for her answer.
“I’ve bumped into him a few times.” She twisted the gold band that was loose on her finger. “They say you don’t appreciate things till they’ve gone. Life’s so bloody unfair.”
My throat constricted, and I couldn’t say anything. I pushed her away, no longer able to stand her self-pity. The bitch already had Luke, and now she wanted you back.
By 11 p.m. the house was in total darkness, except for the landing light, which I knew she kept on until morning.
You were working shifts at Auberge and didn’t get home before midnight, so it was easy for me to spend evenings in my car parked across the road from Emma’s house, watching. I knew what time the house was hushed, when the nursery light was switched on for Luke’s late night feed. But I’d never left the safety of my car before.
Great care was needed. I’d waited patiently, knowing I would never have the courage to do this if Dominic was at home. Thanks to his selfishness he was back in Newmarket. I’d already planned what I would wear: light shoes, trainers. Nothing likely to rustle, just black leggings and a black top. I looked like a cat burglar, sleek and silent, a creature of the night. Searching through our hall cupboard I had found several torches and chose the smallest. I collected what I needed, laying it out on the bed, feeling like Cinderella before the ball, my heartbeat out stepping the clock, which slowly ticked towards the time when the dance would begin. I was giddy, full of fearless love. It would be a brief, glorious dance, but I must leave before the clock struck midnight.
Parking my car in the street next to Emma’s, I skirted hedges and climbed fences until I was there, tiptoeing up the side to the back door. I put my key in the lock, eased down the handle and opened the door very quietly, leaving it slightly ajar.
The house was still, the darkness only broken by the streetlights outside. My torch was a spotlight as I padded through the hall, my trainers squeaking as I climbed the stairs, the carpet at least dulling the sound. I switched off my torch, allowing the light from the street to guide me.
I trod carefully to my first destination: Emma’s bedroom. Inside the room it was silent, her mobile phone was on the bedside cabinet, switched on.
I’d never seen Emma asleep. She looked more beautiful than when awake. Sleep smoothed her face, the lines of worry gone, her lips softened into a near smile, some happy dream transporting her away from the dangers of this world. I envied her. Even asleep I was plagued with the loss of Joel.
Half-drunk with my recklessness, I put down my torch and lay next to her, where Dominic would normally be. Where you had laid, Jason, when you betrayed me. It was
a warm night and the duvet was pushed low below her bare breasts. I gently pulled it down further to reveal more of her. She was naked and her skin was luminous. Her breathing was so deep and steady that I knew she wouldn’t wake.
Intoxicated with my daring, I touched her shoulder, my hand cupping its soft contour. She rolled towards me, and my hand stroked her bare breast. I was hot, on fire. The rise and fall of her chest mocked my unsteady breathing. It was as though she controlled me, despite being unconsciousness. I inched closer until my body mirrored hers, and pressed my lips to the graceful curve of her neck and then, on the pillow next to her, I saw a long goldenred hair.
Too golden to come from Emma’s scalp, not silver enough for Dominic’s, too long to belong to Luke, although it was the same colour.
I lifted the hair, stared at it in the moonlight, wondering if I was losing my mind. Then I had another thought: her mobile phone. I picked it up and walked into the hall. I went to her messages and looked down the list. There were messages from Dominic, from me, from her hairdresser, then . . . my heart thumped when I saw your number. I retrieved the message:
I’ll come 2 U. Usual time?
In her sleep Emma moaned softly, beginning to stir, and I switched the phone off, placing it back on the cabinet. Breathless, I inched away from the bed and out of the room.
It was only when I tucked the key back into my pocket that I realised I’d left my torch behind.
45
When Rose appeared in the classroom Cate could see that she had been asleep from the pillow crease on her cheek. Callahan had told her that a lot of inmates slept over lunch, which was a lengthy two hours. There was not much else to do in a cell, especially when the weather was warm. Rose sat on the chair opposite, and began to take a cigarette from her lapel pocket; then, looking at her, replaced it.
“It’s too hot in here,” Cate said, feeling sweat itch her neck. She thought about removing her jacket but rejected the idea.
“Always hot in here. Except when it’s freezing, that is. They never can get it right.”
