Let Me In

by Alison Keane

  I flush as I recall how willing I was to change everything at the drop of a hat for Nathan, including my behaviour. Dad’s words come back to me. Was he right? Do I just change as soon as a lad I fancy shows the slightest interest in me? “Something Nathan said got me thinking.” I turn away because I don’t want to see the look on her face. Of course she’s judging: I probably would too if the situation was reversed. “Do you want tea?”

  “Yes please. Do you mind turning the heating on too? It’s bloody freezing in here.”

  I stop and fiddle with the thermostat. I hadn’t noticed the cold but then I’m used to it. Steph’s building is much newer and fancier so I expect she doesn’t have the same problem as I do. “There,” I say without a lot of confidence. “I’ve changed the settings anyway.” I feel a tug of sympathy for the way she’s standing there shivering. It’s my fault for dragging her here. “Do you want a blanket or something?”

  She shakes her head. “No, that’s fine. But I’ll leave my coat on for a while if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” I say, moving into the kitchen and picking up the kettle. As I hold it under the tap and wait for it to fill, I’m aware of her watching me. “Would you like normal tea? Or chamomile?”

  “Chamomile for me please.”

  I replace the kettle on its base and flick the switch. “Yes, it’s a bit late for caffeine. Sorry for dragging you over here.”

  She smiles. “That’s what friends are for, isn’t it?” There’s a sudden clattering noise and she looks startled.

  “Don’t worry, that’s just the radiators.”

  “So what happened?” she says when I sit down beside her on the couch.

  I shake my head. “Nothing. Pretty much what I told you. He said he doesn’t want to keep seeing me.”

  “And what did you say?”

  “Well, he said it seemed like I have a lot on my mind. So I messaged back to say—”

  “Wait a sec. He texted you?”

  I nod. I go back to the kitchen and get out two mugs. I pop a chamomile tea bag in each. My mind is racing fast enough as it is without adding caffeine to the mix. I think about taking the half-finished bottle of wine out of the fridge but I don’t. Herbal tea will do. I wait for the kettle to click off, then I pour boiling water into the two cups.

  “I can’t believe he just texted you that. How was it the last time you saw him?” she asks as I put the cups on the table and sit down on the couch beside her.

  “It was all going well,” I say almost scalding my tongue on the hot tea. I put my cup down too quickly and tea sloshes out onto the table.

  “Oh no,” she says. She’s on her feet before I realise what she’s doing. “I’ll get a cloth.”

  “Go on,” she says, coming back and lifting my cup so she can dry the table around it. “What happened? You said it was going well.”

  I sigh. “I really don’t know. We went out on Saturday and then again on Monday. We had a lot of fun together. It was early days, but I thought it was going somewhere.” I bow my head. This is getting to me and I don’t want her to see that.

  But she notices. She puts her arm around me. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’m being silly. It was only two dates, Steph.”

  “Yes, but you liked him. That’s all that matters.” She takes a sip of her tea. “Was he right? Do you have a lot on your mind?”

  I think about it for a moment and then shrug. “Not really. I guess I was worried about what might happen when…” I stop and clear my throat, alarmed at how close I came to telling her how worried I was about Mikey’s reaction. “Just work stuff. The usual.”

  She shakes her head. “It sounds like an excuse. I can’t believe he did that.”

  I smile, but inside I’m wondering why I’m surprised. I shouldn’t have gotten so caught up so quickly.

  Steph waves her hand in front of her face. “It’s boiling in here. I thought you said your heating was rubbish?”

  “I did,” I say, laughing. “I don’t know what’s going on. Maybe it’s behaving because you’re here.” I roll my eyes when I realise she’s still wearing her coat and scarf. “I know why you’re boiling: you’re still wearing that massive coat.” I get up to turn the heating back a bit, aware that it’ll probably drop to freezing again as soon as I touch it. When I turn around she’s shrugging off her coat. I don’t really pay attention. I’m too busy trying to find the words to explain how I feel about Nathan.

  There’s a loud clink and I look up to see what the noise was.

  It’s then that I see it. She’s wearing a three-quarter sleeve blouse so there’s nothing covering her forearms. There’s a shiny gold bracelet on her left wrist. Not just any shiny gold bracelet either, but one that’s identical to the one I found in my father’s house. Shiny and gold, but with darker tarnished sections. It’s the same bracelet. I’m sure of it.

  “Sorry, I whacked my arm off the wall.”

  I force a smile and look away, conscious that I’ve just been staring at her wrist.

  Why did he tell me it belonged to a real estate agent?

  I knew deep down he was lying.

  I should have trusted my instincts.

  It was Steph’s bracelet. But how? I didn’t think they knew each other. What was she doing in his house?

  I want to ask her about the bracelet, but I don’t let myself. I have the strongest feeling that there’s something else going on and it would be stupid to act too soon.

  Am I being paranoid? Maybe. But I don’t think so. That doesn’t look like cheap high street jewellery.

  It’s a struggle to stop myself from confronting her, but I don’t. I need to think about this.

  I watch her while she’s distracted with her phone. Does she know that I found that bracelet in Dad’s house? What the hell is going on?

  17

  Joy

  “Whose is it, Joy?”

  I hate it when he’s like this. He’s normally so calm and controlled, but now he’s on the verge of losing it with me. I know I should keep my cool. I’d do anything to avoid fighting with him again. But how can I? How can he stand there and ask me this?

  “It’s yours. She’s yours. Jesus Christ, how can you even ask me that?”

  He takes a step closer to me and I can’t help but flinch. I know what’s to come. There’s that look in his eyes, that coldness. Even if he doesn’t lay a finger on me, he’s still out for blood. He won’t stop until I’m in tears on the couch—the only unknown is whether that’ll be because of his words or his fists.

  But I can’t. I can’t stand here and take it.

  I splay my hands over my belly. I won’t let him talk about you like that. This is your father. I shake my head. Looking at him now, I feel nothing but misery. How could I let you come into the world when it’s nothing but hatred and ugliness?

  He sees where my hands have gone and his face twists into a sneer. “You’re starting to show now. What are you going to do then?”

  I tell myself to let his words wash over me, but it’s hard when there’s such spite in them. I shouldn’t care, but I do. Sometimes his words are more hurtful than his blows, but I know now which punishment I want. There’s no choice. His blows could hurt both of us—his words can only get to me.

  Or do you know? Can you hear? Is all of this somehow making its way inside me?

  “What are you crying for?” he spits. “Look at the bloody state of you.”

  I grit my teeth through my tears. It’s true. I’ve been a mess lately. And what happens when I can’t work? He promises to support me, but that’s forgotten the moment he’s had a bad day and feels like taking it out on somebody. Our cold, horrible house is not a place I want to raise a child. I hate it. I should never have gone back to him.

  “I should go now. Get ready,” I say calmly. I’m staying calm for me, not for him. I need this job. Not only does it help me scrape by, it also means I can spend hours away from him.

  “Yeah, do it while you ca
n.”

  I flinch. The sound of his fist hitting the table is so loud and unexpected that I can feel it in every bone in my body. I don’t know what’s set him off again. “Please. Calm down.”

  A sudden clarity comes over me. Things have got to change. I can’t live like this. We can’t live like this.

  “Who is he?”

  “What?” I take a small step backwards—it’s as far as I can get without falling onto the couch and I don’t want to sit down right now. My bump may not be big, but pregnancy is affecting me in other ways. I’m not as agile as usual and I’m clumsier, but it’s better to stay standing. If I sat down I’d feel more vulnerable and he’d sense that.

  “You heard me.” He takes a step closer. “Who is he?”

  My heart flutters in my chest. How do I wriggle my way out of this one? When he’s like this, there’s nothing I can say that he won’t take offence to. If I deny it, he’ll accuse me of treating him like a fool. I could smile and try to distract him, but the thought of having his hands on me right now makes me more nauseous than the morning sickness I’ve been suffering for weeks. I feel so trapped.

  “Are you joking?” I mumble, trying to hide my fear and put on a carefree voice. “In my condition? Darling, if I even wanted another man—which I don’t—can you look at the state of me for a moment?”

  I watch as he processes this. Now I see something I missed earlier: his pupils are huge. He’s taken something. Oh shit. I should have known. My smile freezes on my face.

  He blocks my way.

  “I’ve got to get ready now.”

  “You think that’s funny? How do you think that makes me feel? I’m stuck with a woman no-one else wants to touch, is that it?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant.”

  He grips my wrist tighter and pain radiates up my arm. When we first met I liked his strength. He seemed so manly and powerful, but calm. He seemed unflappable. Compared to all the other hotheads I’d gone out with, he seemed like a sweet relief. That was before I really got to know him and realised that the good thing about hotheads is they’re predictable; that their anger blows over quickly. “What did you mean then?”

  Yes, I’d prefer if he was screaming at me. It’d be better than this; this cold, quiet menace.

  “Nothing,” I whisper, smiling up at him as my stomach churns and leaps.

  I’ve made a huge mistake. I thought this baby would change things, but I was wrong. Nothing has changed except that I’ve brought a new life into the world that I’m not sure I can protect.

  I’ve got to get out.

  But where? My only friends are work friends and even though we have a laugh, I suspect none of them would go out of their way for me if it came down to it. I’ve run once and I didn’t last very long.

  I rub my belly with my free hand and that strange calm washes over me again.

  Maybe I have no choice but to go it alone. It’s better than being trapped like this; held hostage to someone else’s moods.

  But how can I? I don’t know the first thing about babies.

  “Nothing? That’s all you’ve got to say? It’s not nothing.” He looks at his watch and my heart sinks. He’ll know now that I’m not due in work for another two hours. He looks up at me again and there’s a revulsion in his eyes I’ve seen a lot in the past couple of weeks.

  Just as I brace myself for more, the phone rings in the kitchen. I scurry past him and close the bedroom door behind me, not wanting to dwell on how close I came to setting him off yet again.

  I’ve got to find a way out.

  18

  Ellie

  Thursday

  I groan and roll over. It feels like I’ve been lying here for hours as a giant ball of negativity swirled around inside my mind. I’ve tried to fall asleep but it’s just not happening.

  Nathan and Steph were the two things in my life that gave me hope.

  Now they’re gone.

  I didn’t say anything to Steph last night. I didn’t see the point when I’ve only known her for a few months. I waited for half an hour so she wouldn’t suspect her bracelet was the reason I’d suddenly wanted her out. I tried to think of sneaky questions that might catch her out but I was so tired I couldn’t trust myself to be clever enough that she wouldn’t realise what I was doing.

  I pull the duvet over my head. Am I just being paranoid? Should I have come straight out with it?

  I can’t see how. She could have just lied and then I’d never know. After all, I had no idea up to now that she was involved with Dad.

  Is that the only reason she was friends with me?

  My head is swirling and the lack of sleep doesn’t help.

  Did she target me? Is that what happened?

  Tears swim in my eyes as I throw off the duvet and rush to the bathroom. First Nathan and now this. I’m alone again.

  I turn the water as hot as it will go and wait for the room to steam up before I step into the shower. I wince from the heat of the water on my skin, but it does little to stop the thoughts that are racing through my mind.

  Why did Dad never say anything? Did he know we were friends? I close my eyes and turn my face up towards the water. He said his real estate agent left that bracelet in his house.

  Steph’s not a real estate agent. She works in accounts for a finance company. And it’s definitely the same bracelet.

  Isn’t it?

  I spent ages on my phone last night trying to find a similar bracelet online. There’s nothing like it in the shops right now.

  How do I find out for sure without asking them—because I’m not sure I can rely on either of them to tell me the truth.

  I gasp as an idea starts to form in my mind.

  There is something I can do.

  I turn off the water and jump out of the shower, shivering in the cold air as I reach for a towel to wrap around me.

  I hurry back to my bedroom and get dressed quickly. I find the key to Dad’s house easily enough: it’s on top of one of the piles I made the other day that I still haven’t thrown out. Getting rid of them is no longer the foremost thing on my mind.

  I check the time. I don’t have to be in work for hours yet: plenty of time to check Dad’s place and see if that bracelet is still there. And I pray that it is: otherwise I have no idea what’s going on around me.

  I put on my coat and slide the keys into my handbag. Should I feel guilty for what I’m about to do? Because I don’t. I’m sick of being lied to and lied about. I’m only doing this because it’s impossible to get an honest answer out of anyone.

  I see him as soon as I open my door. I don’t know if it’s the same man as yesterday—he’s similarly bundled up in a cap and scarf and I can’t see his face. Anger bubbles up inside me: isn’t it enough that Nathan’s decided he doesn’t want to see me anymore? What else do they want?

  “What the hell do you want?” I scream, before I can stop myself. “Tell Mikey he’s got what he wanted.”

  The man turns and hurries off without acknowledging me. I stand watching him, shaking as the adrenaline leaves my body.

  What the hell have I just done?

  I turn and walk in the direction of town, checking behind me every couple of steps. I shouldn’t have lost my temper: I can’t help thinking that he’ll get me back for that.

  I’m just so tired of being a punchbag for everyone in my life. When is it going to end?

  It’s no wonder Jason is pissed off at me. I’ve gone from model employee with no life outside of work to an emotional wreck who can’t keep her mind on the job. Well, that stops today. I’m going to figure out what the hell is going on between Dad and Steph. Then I’m going to go to work and focus harder than I’ve ever focused.

  I don’t go straight to Dad’s. Instead, I walk into town, to his office. He’s usually at his desk by seven, but I can’t rely on his routine anymore since it’s possible I don’t know him as well as I thought I did.

  I check around to see if anyone is watching me bef
ore I walk down the ramp into the car park under Dad’s building. It only takes me a few seconds to check he’s in—his is one of the only cars there.

  I hurry out of the car park and cross the road. I glance back up at the sign. Cartwright Packaging. A horrible sensation of sadness comes over me. I want to be wrong. I want so desperately to be wrong. I turn and walk in the direction of Dad’s house.

  I turn the key in the door and I’m struck by how weird it feels to let myself into this house. It’s not my home anymore and I don’t feel like it ever was.

  It also strikes me that there’s little need for Dad to still be working. He must own this place outright by now. His lifestyle is the opposite of extravagant. He must be loaded. I shake my head. I don’t understand him. I never have and I probably never will. Now is not the time to start getting bitter at him for not helping me out when I needed his help the most. The important thing is that my key still works. I had my doubts. I could just imagine him calling the locksmiths the moment his irresponsible daughter moved out.

  I look around the hall. It’s different being here alone. I can’t remember the last time I came here outside of one of our Sunday lunches. I didn’t think this place could be any eerier, but it’s downright creepy being here without Dad. I don’t know how I ever managed to sleep here—not that I was ever in the house by myself. My school friends used to tease me about that. Their parents would go off for weekends away when we were teenagers and they’d have parties in their houses. Dad never went anywhere and somehow he always seemed to know when there was a party on, even if I tried to make up a lame excuse about going to a friend’s house to study. I was never allowed to do anything.

  My heart hammers as I walk along the hall to the kitchen, staying as quiet as I can just in case he comes back unexpectedly. Or—my blood boils—in case she’s here. By now I’m desperately hoping that I find that bracelet; that I’ve misread things.

  He left it on the kitchen counter. It’s the first place I look, but it’s not there. Of course it’s not: he doesn’t leave anything out. I start checking the drawers and cupboards. The good thing about his Spartan ways is there isn’t a bunch of stuff to camouflage the bracelet.