Years since she had done it, but Angela leaned into her mother and put a hand around her waist. After what seemed like minutes, Angela felt her mother’s arm encircle her. They stood like that for a minute, with Angela’s head on Donna’s shoulder. When she felt her mother’s hand smooth the back of her hair Angela bit her lip to stop herself crying.
‘There,’ Donna said, ‘there, there.’
Her mother’s grip loosened as her father answered the phone. Angela stood up and folded her arms.
27
Nick
As soon as Angela left, Nick rushed to make dinner. His sister and niece were coming round and he had agreed to make pasta. Rusty needed walking but there was no time now, so Nick let him out into the back yard, and sent Luca and Ava out with him. They ran around and climbed up and down the slide, faces pinking with the cold.
Nick chopped onions and fried them, stirring in pesto and chopped tomatoes, glancing over his shoulder at the shouts of laughter from the yard. He was trembling and Marina would be home soon. He thought about sneaking another joint but there was no way to get time on his own. Leaving the onions to soften in the sauce, he found a half-empty bottle of Orujo at the back of the liquor cabinet and poured two fingers into a mug, wincing as he gulped the spirit back. He returned to the stove, feeling a little better, braced by the alcohol, shocked into a dull, wary calm. He turned down the heat on the pasta as Luca appeared at the back door, eyebrow raised.
‘Dad?’
‘Yeah?’ Nick felt his smile forced, overly enthusiastic.
‘Who was that girl who was here?’
‘It was just … she was just …’ he frowned at the bubbling sauce, scraping chopped garlic from the board and stirring it, ‘a local school kid collecting money for a charity. Just had to find some money for her. I took some from your piggy bank but I’ll pay it back tomorrow.’
Nick glanced at Luca. He was still, hand on the doorknob, regarding Nick, his face impassive. Nick’s nerves returned and he drained the pasta although it was a little early, needing something to do to distract from his lie. When he turned again, Luca had gone back into the yard. He sighed audibly, exhausted suddenly, as he poured the pasta and the sauce into a dish, ready for the oven.
Marina got home just before Melissa and Rebecca arrived. Nick had calmed down, the table was set and everything was ready. She smiled weakly at him when she came in, dark circles under her eyes. He put his hands on her waist and tried to pull her into him, but she tugged away. She walked upstairs, and he watched her go, loosening her shirt from her waistband. He looked down at his hand that a moment earlier had rested on her waist. Nothing was the same any longer. He wondered what she was thinking upstairs. He knew some part of her doubted him.
He served up quickly, as soon as his niece and sister arrived. Melissa and Rebecca sat on one side of the table, with Ava and Luca kneeling opposite. Marina was in her usual seat at the top of the table, her hair up, coaching Ava to eat.
‘Daddy,’ said Ava, twisting and starting to get down, when he got up to slice more bread.
‘Siéntate y acaba de cenar!’ said Marina, pointing. Immediately, Ava turned back to her bowl. The reprimand had been for his daughter, but Nick also felt her scorn.
Nick poked his niece in the ribs and then his sister as he returned to the table. ‘Good to see you both.’ Marina avoided his eyes.
He helped himself to some more pasta from the pan and sat down beside Marina, tousling Ava’s warm hair and reaching to rub Luca’s back. ‘Is it good?’ he said, picking up his fork.
‘Pretty good,’ said Luca, with a lump of sausage skewered on his fork.
‘It was amazing,’ said Melissa.
‘Have some more,’ Marina said, turning to get up, but Melissa stopped her.
‘No way, I’m done,’ she said, holding her sides.
Nick took a mouthful of food. He had no appetite and was eating almost as slowly as the children. ‘One helping of Daddy’s pasta’s more than enough …’ he said, breathing onto the back of Ava’s neck so that she giggled and brushed her skin with the back of her hand.
Under the table, he ran a hand over Marina’s thigh. She gently moved her leg away from his grasp.
He cast his eyes over the table.
‘So anyway … back to what we were saying; the concert’s on the twenty-seventh … and you’re so excited, aren’t you?’ Melissa said, addressing her daughter.
Rebecca smiled into her empty bowl, revealing her braces. She had become shyer in the past year, even in front of her family, the awkwardness of adolescence.
‘Who you going to see?’ Nick said, swallowing, looking across the table at his niece.
‘Katy Perry,’ she said, eyes suddenly shining with excitement.
‘Gonna make you roar …’ Nick leaned across the table with his hand in a tiger’s claw.
‘That’s not even the words,’ his niece laughed generously.
‘Who you going with?’
‘Olivia, my friend from basketball. Her mum’s taking us. We’re going to try and get right at the front.’
‘I’ve got a race, or I could’ve …’ Melissa shrugged.
Luca and Ava left the table, but Luca came up to Nick and tugged on his elbow. Nick lowered his ear. Fingers cupped over his mouth, Luca whispered, ‘Should I not tell Mum about the girl in the hall?’
Nick’s chest constricted.
Luca’s eager little mouth reached for Nick’s ear again. He got up, hand on Luca’s head to steer him out of the kitchen into the hall. Nick was relieved that his sister kept talking to Marina, about her race.
‘I’ll speak to your mum about it,’ he said, his face serious. ‘Probably best if you don’t mention it to her or your sister. Thank you for looking after Ava.’
‘She looked sad, the girl in the hall.’
Nick felt his face sag. ‘I don’t think she was sad, just tired.’
Luca’s expression was solemn, making his little boy face seem older, but then he nodded his head and smiled thinly. ‘Okay.’
Nick exhaled heavily, all the blood in his fingers and his toes, as Luca ran off to find his sister.
In the kitchen, Nick began to stack the dishwasher, scraping Luca and Rebecca’s leftovers into the bin as everyone left the table. As he was bent over, Nick felt Marina’s cool hand on the small of his back. He turned, smiling, thinking she had forgiven him.
‘What’s that? Did you hurt yourself?’
Nick stood up. Marina was pulling at the back of his T-shirt.
‘You’ve got blood on you.’
He held his breath, realising that it must have transferred from Angela’s wrist when they embraced.
‘Is it blood? I … uh, don’t think I cut myself.’ He avoided her eye, but felt his face begin to burn. He took refuge in the dishwasher, but he knew that Marina had seen, and that she wouldn’t let it go.
Nick had expected Marina to return to the blood on his shirt the moment that Melissa left, but he was saved by the onslaught of family activities that took them to bedtime. As soon as his sister left, it was bath time and Rusty needed walking, and then there was the news and family calling from Spain. Just as Nick and Marina were getting ready for bed, Luca appeared at the bedroom door, pale-faced and pulling on his lip.
‘Accident?’ said Nick.
Luca nodded.
Nick ruffled the little boy’s hair. ‘Don’t worry about it, little man. Let’s sort it out.’
He changed Luca’s sheets, then stayed and rubbed his back for a few moments until he settled again. Nick felt responsible for the bedwetting. Luca had always been bright and sensitive. He didn’t miss much and Nick knew that his troubles were affecting his son.
He put the sheets in the wash and then went into the bedroom and began to undress. Marina was sitting on the edge of the bed wearing an old T-shirt, putting cream on her brown legs. He stripped down to his boxers and got into bed.
‘Why were you strange earlier?’ she said, turni
ng to him suddenly. ‘About that mark on your shirt … you blushed.’
There was no point in lying.
He inhaled and smoothed the fine hairs on his stomach with one hand before meeting her eye.
‘Don’t freak out.’
She turned and locked eyes with him, waiting.
‘This afternoon Angela came to the house.’
Her brown eyes widened. ‘Angela Furness … the girl?’
He nodded. ‘She just turned up. I had to get her a taxi home.’
‘Oh Dios mio!’ she covered her eyes with one hand, springing up from the bed. ‘That is against your bail!’
‘Don’t you think I know that?’
‘Did anyone see?’
‘Only Luca, Ava I suppose, and the taxi driver. I was terrified.’
‘If the police find out … If she says … if someone saw … Why would she come here?’
‘She was … weird. I don’t know what’s going on in her head. She started clawing her wrist when I told her she shouldn’t be here. That’s what the blood was. I put a plaster on it but I think it must have transferred onto me somehow.’ He decided not to tell Marina that Angela had actually embraced him before she left. He sighed, looking into the palm of his hands.
‘All she has to do,’ said Marina, eyes glassy with fury and hurt, ‘is tell one person and you will go to jail. Do you understand?’ She held up a finger that quivered before him. ‘Her mother, her father … just one person.’
‘I didn’t do this. She came here. She put me in this position. Once again, I had no choice in the matter.’
‘Keep your voice down. Luca is probably still awake.’
Nick leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes. ‘I don’t believe she’ll tell anyone. I don’t think so.’
‘You don’t think—’
‘She told me she was sorry … I believe her.’
Marina put her head in her hands and Nick tried to tug her towards him. She sat down on the bed, but shrugged his hand from her shoulder.
‘Try not to worry, okay?’
*
The next day was Friday and Marina was working from home. Nick picked up Ava from the childminder and then Luca from school. When they got home, Marina was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside her laptop, the living-room carpet strewn with reports on children in need. She began to tidy up as they entered, hiding the pictures of refugee children crying, and case studies on young girls who had been trafficked across Europe.
Luca charged into the room, reiterating all the stories he had just related to Nick in the car: he and his best friend Jack had caught a spider in the playground and taken it into class where it had escaped into another child’s bag, never to be found again. Ava held up her painting – so close that the still-wet green paint of the grass marked Marina’s sweater.
As Marina took her work things into the kitchen out of the way, Nick got down onto his knees and began to wrestle the children: tickling Ava until she screamed as Luca sat on his back with a choke-hold around his neck.
The children’s laughter was loud, and so close to his ears that Nick didn’t hear the phone ring. As Luca fell gently to the floor, Nick lifted his daughter’s top and blew a raspberry on her belly.
‘Nick!’
Marina stood at the living-room door with the phone pressed to her chest to muffle the sound. Nick frowned, sitting up on his heels, out of breath.
‘Again!’ Ava called from the floor.
Nick pressed a finger to his lips to hush them as he got up.
‘It’s the police,’ Marina whispered, eyes imploring.
Nick pressed his teeth together as he took the phone from her and left the room.
‘Hello?’
‘Nick, it’s Detective Sergeant Brookes. Can you talk right now?’
Dread flushed through his body. ‘Yeah, I … sure …’
Marina was at his side. He felt her hand slip into the back pocket of his jeans as she leaned in close and he turned the receiver so they could both hear. His hand trembled.
‘I wanted to call you personally, although I’m sure you’ll want to talk to your lawyer, too. Your police bail was due to run until the end of the month but because of insufficient evidence we will no longer be pursuing the investigation into the accusation of sexual assault.’
Nick frowned and parted his lips. Marina had not heard or was as stunned as he was – she was still leaning in and looking up into his face.
‘So … what you’re saying is …’
‘It’s over.’
‘But …’ Nick straightened and Marina’s hand fell from his pocket. He heard a congratulatory tone in the detective’s voice, as if she expected him to be relieved and grateful. ‘I mean … can I get some kind of explanation? Why was I accused of these things? Is there evidence that she was abused by someone else?’
‘You know everything there is to know. We have insufficient evidence to pursue the investigation into the allegations against you.’
‘So … I’m no longer on bail? There are no restrictions? I can work in schools again … as if anyone would ever hire me.’
Detective Brookes had been trying to interrupt him and now her voice was clipped. ‘You are no longer on police bail and are no longer restricted from being alone with children.’
Nick breathed through his teeth. There was a ball of rage at the pit of his stomach. ‘And my record – it’s clear?’
She cleared her throat. ‘You have not been charged with any offence. You do not have a criminal record.’
‘I know that, but what’s happened to me these past months … this investigation … will it be known? Will it be on my record?’
Brookes cleared her throat. She spoke slowly and quietly. ‘You have not been charged with any offence, but if you apply for disclosure, a check on your name will bring up your arrest with a note that there was insufficient evidence to pursue charges of sexual assault of an under-thirteen. Any future police checks on your name will flag that up … but if you were under more suspicion, a different report would be issued.’
‘Insufficient evidence. It doesn’t say I’m innocent.’
‘That’s right, but you can go back to life as normal. There are no more restrictions placed on you and the investigation is over.’
Nick swore under his breath, and swallowed. ‘Yeah, right. Thank you,’ he said, eyes burning. He hung up.
‘Did she say what I thought she said?’
‘Yeah … it’s over. It’s all over,’ he whispered, the phone heavy in his hand.
Marina’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Que alivio,’ she murmured, pressing her face into his chest.
He put an arm loosely around her shoulders, resting his chin on the top of her head, then gently removed himself from the embrace. He put the phone back on its stand and stood in the hall, hands on his hips. She reached for him again, but he moved away.
‘What is it?’
‘What is it?’ he turned to her, wide-eyed. ‘This is not okay. They put us through this. Our whole lives have been turned upside down. I’ve not been able to work, we had to ask my parents to look after the kids even though I’m right here, right here … people writing articles and calling me a paedophile online, hurting our child, breaking windows, nutters we haven’t even met threatening to … rape you …’ He covered his face with his hands.
‘Keep your voice down. I know how you feel, but let’s not be bitter. Let’s be happy that it is over.’
‘Are you fucking kidding?’ Rusty’s ball was lying in the centre of his bed. In a single movement, Nick bent and picked up the ball and threw it with all his strength at the hall wall. The ball ricocheted and Marina put her elbows over her face to avoid being hit.
‘This is not right,’ he whispered. ‘It’s not fair. I didn’t do a damn thing wrong. A girl makes something up and I get dragged over the coals. It’s just not fair.’
‘I know,’ said Marina, hands facing down, pacifying. ‘But we have to mo
ve on, or else …’
His throat hurting with a sour mixture of rage and relief, Nick pulled her into him. He had to forget and forgive the past months, but did not know how.
Part Three
‘The rape joke is that time is different, becomes more horrible and more habitable, and accommodates your need to go deeper into it.’
Patricia Lockwood, ‘Rape Joke’
28
Angela
She was on her way to school. The day was dark and drizzly and Angela walked slightly hunched over, with her hands in her pockets and her backpack low on her shoulders. She hadn’t got up in time and was still hungry, having had only half a bowl of cereal. There were crisps and chocolate in her bag but it was so wet she decided to wait until she got to school. The rain dampened her hair and it began to cling to her face. Angela nudged it aside with the heel of her hand.
Some of the kids had umbrellas but they were the losers. The cool kids just got wet. The weather didn’t matter. Her clothes were damp but she didn’t care. All she thought about was getting to school and having something to eat.
She watched her baseball boots fall on the pavement, feeling the splash of the puddles soak through the fabric to her socks and feet. Suddenly there was a pair of burgundy Doc Martens before her. Angela stopped and looked up. It was Jasmine, her brown hair exploding in bunches at the side of her head. At first Angela started, glancing behind, in case it was an ambush and she was going to be beaten up by a group of kids, but Jasmine was alone.
‘What’s up?’ said Angela, trying to sound tough.
You couldn’t see where Angela had ripped the patch of hair out. It had all grown in, or else the way Jasmine had combed the bunches, it didn’t show.
‘You’re not really pregnant. That’s a lie, too.’
Angela tried to push past her, but Jasmine grabbed her elbow and spun her on the pavement. Angela faced her old friend. She didn’t want to argue. It was too wet and she was too hungry, but Jasmine was all jaunty angles: hip and folded arms, sloped shoulder and tilted chin.
‘Leave me alone.’ Angela pushed past her again and went on her way.
‘Leave me alone!’ Jasmine pulled on Angela’s backpack and she felt it jerked off her shoulders. It landed heavily in a large puddle.
Little Liar Page 21
