Who Is She?

by Ben Cheetham

“Yes.”

  “Because I was wrong about Butterfly. You two are perfect for each other.”

  Wrinkles of surprise crowded Jack’s forehead. “You really think that after what she did to Ryan?”

  “Especially after what she did to that arsehole. I’d like to think I’d do the same in her position, but I’d probably just lie down and die. She’s…” Laura sought the appropriate word, “unusual. And I mean that in a good way. And besides, she saved my life. I can hardly send her to prison after that.”

  “But what about Naomi? Do you think I can trust Butterfly with Naomi?”

  “It depends what you mean by trust. Do you want someone who’ll fight for Naomi? Or someone who takes the easy way out when the going gets tough?”

  Jack winced inwardly at his sister’s not-so-subtle reference to Rebecca. He made no reply. The question didn’t need answering.

  “Smile,” said Laura. “You’ve got the royal seal of approval. What more do you want?”

  That was a good question. What more did he want? Rebecca’s painfully beautiful face materialised in his mind as vividly as if she was in the room. He’d loved her so much. Never mind a couple of toes, he would have given his life for her. She hadn’t given him that chance though. Had suicide been the easy way out of her depression? Or had she been taking back control the only way she could? He imagined himself standing on the edge of Fairlight Cliffs. The wind whipping around him. The sea chewing up the rocks hundreds of feet below. Nothing to stop him from stepping into the abyss. Ending the whole crazy ride. Life distilled to a single choice – jump or don’t jump. That was true freedom. It had nothing to do with anyone but yourself.

  Laura was right about one thing. Butterfly was as different from Rebecca as day was from night. But there was one parallel – Rebecca had lived and Butterfly was living in the shadow of death. What if Naomi came to love Butterfly only for some slight wrong movement to fatally dislodge the bullet? Could he put her through that?

  “Jack,” Laura interrupted his thoughts in a cautioning tone. “You’ve got that look in your eyes.” She’d nursed him through his grief after Rebecca’s death. She’d come to know only too well when he was dwelling on the past. “Stop over-thinking things. What does this tell you?” She pointed at his heart.

  The lines fled Jack’s forehead. He looked around himself with sudden urgency. “Where are my clothes?”

  “A policeman took them. Whoa,” exclaimed Laura as Jack removed his foot from the sling. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I have to see her.”

  “Hang on.” Laura left the room. She reappeared with a wheelchair. She helped Jack into it and pushed him through the corridors to a room kitted out with a bed and cot.

  Mother and baby were both asleep, but Butterfly’s eyes opened as Jack wheeled himself into the room. She offered him a tired smile. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” Jack whispered back. He peered into the cot and smiled at Charlie’s scrunched red face. “He looks like you.”

  “Everyone keeps telling me that, but I don’t see it.”

  “You will do. Give it time.”

  “I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you, Jack. I didn’t want to leave Charlie alone.”

  “You did right. He needs you more than I do.”

  “Does he?” There was doubt in Butterfly’s voice. “I keep thinking about the Kavanaghs, about everything they had to give him. I have nothing. No money. Nowhere to live. Maybe he would have been better off with them.”

  Jack looked her in the eyes. “You’re his mother. No one can give him what you can. Believe me, I know.”

  She blinked guiltily away from his gaze. “Laura told me they can’t fix your foot.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does. This is my fault. All of it. I agreed to sell my baby. I ran away and let those children die. You and Laura were almost killed because of me. I don’t blame you for not wanting me anywhere near your–” Butterfly broke off in surprise as Jack lurched to his feet and planted a kiss on her lips. They stayed like that for a long moment, their lips softening into each other.

  When they drew apart, Jack murmured, “I want you…” he glanced at Charlie, “both of you to come and live with us.”

  Butterfly’s eyes were awash with stunned uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

  Jack nodded, tenderly holding her gaze.

  “OK,” she said, her lips spreading into a full smile.

  “OK,” echoed Jack, almost incredulous laughter welling up in him. It was actually going to happen! They would be a family. “I’m going to have to sit down before I fall down.”

  He dropped back into the wheelchair. A tiny mewl came from the cot. Charlie’s misty blue eyes were open and fixed on Jack. Butterfly reached for a pre-prepared bottle of milk. “Do you mind if I do the honours?” asked Jack.

  She hesitated, caught off guard for the second time in minutes.

  “It’s OK if you want to do it,” said Jack.

  She handed him the bottle. “If we’re going to live together, there has to be trust. Right?”

  Trust. Such a vast word. Without it nothing else would work. Both of them were going to have to work on relearning its true meaning. “Right.”

  Jack lifted Charlie, cushioning him against his chest. He touched the teat to Charlie’s lips. When Charlie opened his mouth, Jack put the teat into it.

  “You make that look easy,” said Butterfly.

  “I’ve had plenty of practice.” Jack smiled at Charlie. “Good boy,” he cooed as Charlie suckled on the teat. “You and I are going to be best mates.”

  When Charlie had drunk his fill, Jack burped him, checked to see if his nappy needed changing, then returned him to the cot. Butterfly took Jack’s hand and together they watched Charlie sleep.

  Chapter 41

  Naomi rocked the Moses Basket, singing softly, “Rock-a-bye baby in the treetop…”

  She insisted on singing to Charlie every evening when he was put down to sleep. Not that he stayed asleep for long. He usually woke five or six times in the night for a feed. His mewl had strengthened into a warbling cry. He’d grown chubbier in the weeks since coming home from the hospital. Jack could only carry him for a few minutes before his shoulder started throbbing.

  When she finished her song, Naomi ever so gently kissed Charlie’s forehead. “Night, night, Charlie.”

  Jack looked on smiling. He never tired of watching Naomi with Charlie. She seemed to have fallen in love with him at first sight. She’d become a proper little mum to him too, changing his nappies, feeding him, playing with him.

  “It’s your bedtime too,” said Jack.

  “Can I say goodnight to Butterfly?”

  Jack nodded. Naomi ran lightly downstairs. He followed slowly, carefully placing his injured foot on each step. The burns were healing well, but were still sore. Added to which he was struggling to find his new centre of gravity. At first he’d walked like a drunk. A few times – particularly when bending to pick things up – he’d lost his balance and toppled over. Day by day, his stride was adjusting itself to compensate. He no longer needed a walking stick to make it to the shops for a resupply of wet wipes or nappies. The physios were confident he would be back to full mobility within a few months.

  He went into the living-room, taking care not to trip over rattles, building blocks and soft toys. They’d been inundated with gifts from Jack’s colleagues. He’d never seen so many hardened detectives turn to mush as when he’d taken Charlie into the office. He’d tactfully requested that no more presents be given. Steve had taken no notice. Almost daily he turned up at the house with some new toy that he’d ‘just happened to see’ on his way over.

  The mantelpiece was cluttered with get-well-soon and Christmas cards. In one corner stood a Christmas tree that Naomi and Butterfly had decorated with baubles, tinsel and chocolates. This would be the third Christmas since Rebecca’s death, but the first that he’d bought a tree or even put up decorations. Rebec
ca had always struggled with the long nights and forced jollity of the festive season. Jack wondered with a mixture of excitement and trepidation what that time of year would be like with the new additions to the family.

  Naomi was leaning in to kiss Butterfly’s cheek. Butterfly had grown too over the past few weeks. Her face and frame had filled out healthily. Her lustrous autumnal hair was now long enough to conceal the puckered scar. She still looked tired, but only in the way all new mothers do. Her headaches and bouts of nausea and dizziness were also becoming increasingly infrequent.

  She kissed Naomi back, saying, “Sleep tight.”

  The two of them had hit it off immediately. It filled Jack with relief and pride – mostly pride – that, despite everything, Naomi remained open and trusting. She hadn’t inherited her willingness to see only the best in people from Rebecca or him. That facet of her personality was all her own. It helped that the first time they’d met, Butterfly had broken the ice by telling Naomi, “I’m not looking to replace your mum. All I want is for us to be friends. If that’s OK with you.”

  To which Naomi had nodded and said, “I really like your tattoo. Butterflies are my favourite.”

  “Then we’re definitely going to be good friends,” Butterfly had laughingly replied.

  As he did every day, Jack reminded himself that he would never take this second chance for granted. He would fully appreciate every single second they had together. “I’ll be up in a minute to tuck you in,” he said as Naomi headed back upstairs to brush her teeth and change into her pyjamas.

  He flopped onto the sofa beside Butterfly. “Little man’s spark out. I reckon we might get an hour or two to ourselves.”

  Butterfly snuggled up. “That sounds like bliss. I’ve been waiting for a chance to get my hands on you.” She twisted to kiss him, but pulled away putting a hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn.

  Jack chuckled. “The only thing you'll be getting your hands on is a pillow.”

  Butterfly kissed him, murmuring, “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

  As they rose to leave the room, his gaze strayed to the photo of Rebecca. The old pain was still there, but it was different. Less deep than before. Like the ache in his shoulder. He’d offered to take down the photo, but Butterfly had said, “Don’t. It’s important to keep her memory alive.”

  Memories. If anyone knew just how important they were it was her.

  They made their way upstairs, holding hands, parting as Butterfly went into the bedroom and Jack checked on Naomi. She was stretched out on her bed, staring into an iPad. “Hey, you know that’s not allowed at bedtime,” Jack quietly remonstrated, holding his hand out.

  Naomi handed over the iPad. Jack tucked her in, kissed her and left the room. He found himself infected by Butterfly’s yawn. He’d intended to go over the testimony he was due to give at the Kavanaghs upcoming court hearing, but his mind was too foggy. Mark and Suzanne had been denied bail and remanded into custody. The Crown Court agreed with GMP that they posed a significant flight risk. Mark had immediately started pouring money into making sure the case was brought to trial as quickly as possible.

  Ryan Mahon on the other hand seemed intent on mutely rotting in prison. He’d refused to speak to both the police and the Public Defender who’d been appointed him. His silence would doubtless have done his dad proud. Not that it would make any difference to his sentencing if he opened his mouth – he was facing a ‘life-means-life’ sentence regardless – but Jack’s colleagues had dug up half-a-dozen murders that bore the hallmark of the Mahon brothers. Ryan could have given some sort of closure to the victims’ grieving families. He wasn’t about to do that though. He was keeping those cards close to his chest. They were the only power he had left.

  Jack crept into the bedroom, careful not to disturb Butterfly and Charlie. Butterfly was lying on her side, facing the Moses Basket. Judging from her soft snoring, she was already asleep. Jack undressed, slid beneath the duvet and curled up against her silky skin. At first it had felt awkward getting into bed with her. He’d lain awake all night riddled with a strange guilt, almost as if he was betraying Rebecca. The following night Butterfly had pulled him to her and they’d made love, exploring every part of each other’s body, lingering tenderly on old and new scars. Afterwards he’d felt only contentment.

  With a long exhalation, Jack closed his eyes. When he next opened them, a deep silence hung over the room. He’d rolled away from Butterfly. The alarm clock read ‘1:47 am’. His heart was suddenly beating fast. He’d been asleep for hours. Why hadn’t Charlie woken him crying for a feed? He turned to Butterfly. She was lying motionless in the same position. Too motionless.

  Fearfully, he sat up. Butterfly’s pallor was deathly in the glow of lamplight filtering through the curtains. He touched her shoulder. She stirred and opened her eyes. A faint frown touched her forehead. “What is it, Jack? Are you OK?”

  Her voice prompted a soft gurgle from the Moses Basket. “I’m fine,” he whispered, bending to kiss her frown away. “Go back to sleep. I’ll sort out Charlie.”

  Smiling gratefully, Butterfly closed her eyes.

  After feeding Charlie and rocking him into silence, Jack lay staring at Butterfly as if watching for signs of distress. He thought about the way he’d used to feel in bed with Rebecca before depression sank its claws into her. It had seemed like nothing in the world could touch them. That had turned out to be a blissful illusion. What he felt with Butterfly was real and that was good enough.

  Thank You!

  Thanks for reading Who Is She? I really, REALLY hope you enjoyed it. If you go on to read my other books, have an extra big thank you! I couldn’t do this mysterious thing called writing without your support. And if you get chance to leave a review on Amazon (or any other site), then - deep breath - THANK YOU!!! I can’t tell you what a huge difference reader reviews make to authors like me who don’t have the financial clout of the big publishers behind them.

  Oh and please feel free to get in touch. I’d genuinely love to know what you think of my books. You can find me on Twitter at @ben_cheethamUK or Facebook at @BenCheethamBooks. I look forward to hearing from you.

  Keep reading!

  Cheers,

  Ben

  P.S. Don’t forget, you can enjoy one of my books for FREE simply by clicking this link GET MY FREE BOOK and joining my mailing list.

  Other Books by the Author

  (Jack Anderson Book 1)

  What happens when the watcher becomes the watched?

  Jack has it all – a beautiful wife and daughter, a home, a career. Then his wife, Rebecca, plunges to her death from the Sussex coast cliffs. Was it an accident or did she jump? He moves to Manchester with his daughter, Naomi, to start afresh, but things don’t go as planned. He didn’t think life could get any worse...

  Jack sees a woman in a window who is the image of Rebecca. Attraction turns into obsession as he returns to the window night after night. But he isn’t the only one watching her...

  Jack is about to be drawn into a deadly game. The woman lies dead. The latest victim in a series of savage murders. Someone is going to go down for the crimes. If Jack doesn’t find out who the killer is, that ‘someone’ may well be him.

  You can purchase Now She’s Dead at

  amazon.co.uk

  amazon.com

  amazon.com.au

  The truth can be more dangerous than lies...

  July 1972

  The Ingham household. Upstairs, sisters Rachel and Mary are sleeping peacefully. Downstairs, blood is pooling around the shattered skull of their mother, Joanna, and a figure is creeping up behind their father, Elijah. A hammer comes crashing down again and again...

  July 2016

  The Jackson household. This is going to be the day when Tom Jackson’s hard work finally pays off. He kisses his wife Amanda and their children, Jake and Erin, goodbye and heads out dreaming of a better life for them all. But just hours later he finds himself plunged into a nightma
re...

  Erin is missing. She was hiking with her mum in Harwood Forest. Amanda turned her back for a moment. That was all it took for Erin to vanish. Has she simply wandered off? Or does the blood-stained rock found where she was last seen point to something sinister? The police and volunteers who set out to search the sprawling forest are determined to find out. Meanwhile, Jake launches an investigation of his own – one that will expose past secrets and present betrayals.

  Is Erin’s disappearance somehow connected to the unsolved murders of Elijah and Joanna Ingham? Does it have something to do with the ragtag army of eco-warriors besieging Tom’s controversial quarry development? Or is it related to the fraught phone call that distracted Amanda at the time of Erin’s disappearance?