After Mother told me the truth, and I finally calmed down, she called the three of us together in the sitting room and told you I was no longer ignorant of my past. You went as white as a sheet, like you were about to throw up, no doubt with shame. You didn’t say much, just looked at me with apologetic, almost pitiful eyes, slightly dumbfounded, I suppose. I don’t think Mother had previously filled you in on her plan to tell me everything – where I came from and who my real mother was. I remember the incredulous look you gave her, followed by an icy glare that said you wanted to kill her. Then you told me to leave the room and go upstairs to my bedroom.
At first, I stayed put; waited for Mother to give me the OK because I wasn’t taking orders from you any more. She said it was OK, that I should go, and so I left. But I didn’t go to my room. I hid at the top of the stairs, trying to make out what you and Mother were saying, but I only caught snippets of your conversation. It was clear you didn’t want me to hear because you kept your voice low, even though you must have been dying to scream blue murder at Mother.
‘…How could you tell her?
‘…Why wasn’t that enough for you?
‘…Why go to such lengths? Are you so heartless, so blinded by revenge that you’d use your own daughter to make her suffer more? You’re sick, you know that, don’t you?
‘…Why can’t you just move on, be happy for once?’
Those were your words. And then there were Mother’s:
‘…You cheated on me repeatedly, and if you don’t keep your mouth shut and go along with the plan, I’ll tell the world who and what you really are, and how you helped me take Heidi.’
I heard the anguish in her voice, understood just how much pain you and she had caused her, and at that moment I vowed to help Mother destroy the woman who destroyed her life.
I can never forget how she wanted to get rid of me, that she would have murdered me had her husband not found the test in the bin. That’s what Mother told me. How she was sickened by me feeding from her breast, how she left me with either his mother or hers so she could shag you, my slimy, sex-crazed father.
She is just as cold to her other children. She has ruined them, just as she would have ruined me. She doesn’t deserve to be a mother, the greatest gift of life, and the suffering she has endured after losing me is not enough.
She needs to suffer more.
Chapter Forty
Greg
Now
For once, I am home before you. It’s only 6 p.m., and I’m guessing you’ve either gone to the gym after your session with Dr Cousins or stopped off to see Janine. I’m not aware of anything else you do to fill your time, but then again, the email has unsettled me, made me question whether I know the real you. Whether you’re actually full of secrets, have another side to you I am ignorant of. Tell me, Chrissy, have I been a fool all these years for believing my unqualified devotion was enough for you?
I pour myself a stiff drink and sit with it on the sofa, switch on the TV and stare at the moving images but take none of them in, my mind occupied by other thoughts. I wonder if whoever has accused you of being a whore also knows I am cheating on you? Whether our every move is being watched? The thought makes me shiver, and I decide I must tell the police about the email as soon as possible, but not before I have spoken to you. It’s only fair, and I am certain that we’ll be stronger together, even though I get the feeling that whoever is behind all this wants to drive us further apart.
My phone receives a message. A text from Ella saying she was in the neighbourhood earlier and knocked to see if either of us was in. But we weren’t, of course. She says she feels bad for missing lunch yesterday, but between us, she couldn’t face it without me being there to act as a buffer. How sad is that? When I married you, I imagined we’d have this perfect family – this solid unit of sublime happiness – but we’re not even close to that. We’re poles apart from each other and our children have serious issues, although I think Ella has suffered more than Daniel. Forever in the shadow of her older sister. You weren’t there for her when she needed you most, and I wonder if she’ll ever recover from that, whether your indifference, your neglect, has ruined her for life. She says she’s met someone, but who knows if it’ll last or whether this chap is good enough for her?
Having said that, I wonder if any bloke will ever be up to scratch for my darling girl. Fathers are – for the most part – fiercely protective of their daughters, but losing Heidi made me more so, to the point where I’m not sure it’s entirely healthy on my part. But I can’t help it.
I hear the faint jingle-jangle of keys, then one being turned in the lock, and I realize you’re finally home. I chuck back my drink, but my heart is racing and I’m dreading what I know is going to be a difficult conversation. I’m almost certain that by now Janine will have told you she saw me with Amber; she’s too good a friend to have kept it from you this long. She’d never want you to live in ignorance, to be made a fool of by your traitorous husband.
But she doesn’t have the whole story. She hasn’t seen the email accusing you of being a whore, a printout of which is tucked inside my trouser pocket. Like a gun in a holster, it is primed ammunition I intend to whip out to counter your accusations of infidelity.
You’ll know I’m home because I’ve drawn the curtains, our signal to each other that one of us is in. You don’t call out to me; the only sounds are the shuffling of footsteps, keys being thrown on the hall table, shoes being removed, coat being hung. You prolong my agony by going to the kitchen, no doubt to get your daily dose of wine, but to my surprise I hear the tap being turned on, then the sound of a tumbler being filled with water. Are you torturing me with your protracted avoidance of the living room, where you must know I am because the door is slightly ajar, the light on?
I refuse to leave this sofa; you need to come to me if you want an explanation and, having stuck to my guns, I finally hear your footsteps approach, and then the door swings open.
But it’s not you. It’s Daniel.
Chapter Forty-One
Christine
Before
I don’t want to see you. I can’t even bear to look at you, even though practicalities make that impossible. Losing Heidi has killed my passion for you. I’d never have thought it possible, to go from feeling like I couldn’t live without you, to never wanting to see your face again. It’s like a switch has been flicked from on to off, the electricity between us extinguished like a blown fuse, and it’s hard to imagine the intense feelings I once had for you. I might even grow to hate you if my baby girl is never found, even though I know that’s unfair because the blame lies squarely on my shoulders.
Six weeks have passed since Heidi was taken, and the police are no nearer to finding her, or her kidnapper. Every call or possible sighting turns out to be a dead end or – even more soul-destroying – the work of some crackpot or heartless troublemaker. Whoever took her was very quick and very smart. Watching me with her that day. Seizing that small window of opportunity, as if he or she knew it was coming. Knowing which route to take out of the department store so as to draw the least attention to themselves and Heidi.
I feel numb from head to toe, consumed by grief and guilt. I find no joy in anything. I dread waking up in the morning; everything is a hassle and a burden, even putting one foot in front of the other is an effort, and my usually healthy appetite has vanished completely. After spending a month doing press conferences, helping the police with their enquiries and field searches, I am fast losing hope. I’ve not left the house for three days.
Greg went back to the office yesterday. Although they told him to take all the time he needed, I don’t think he could stand being cooped up in here with me any longer. And, to be honest, I’m glad he went back, because I can’t look him in the eye. Every time I look at him, I think about the lies I have told him and the fact that I am still lying to him. I can’t bear for him to touch me because I am not worthy of his kisses or his cuddles or his sympathy. I am a v
ile human being who is getting her rightful punishment, but it is beyond unfair that Heidi should have to suffer for my sins.
Gone is the vivacious go-getter. In her place stands the carcass of the woman I once was. I reject even those closest to me, those who are trying their hardest to comfort me, like Janine (obviously her surprise birthday party was called off as no one was in the mood to celebrate, and she will shortly be off to Hong Kong), my brother, my parents, and Miranda. Poor Miranda. Having to deal with her father’s heart attack the same afternoon Heidi was taken. She rang to tell us that she had no choice but to go to his bedside. As much as she resented him, he was her only remaining flesh and blood after all. It really was the most ill-fated day, and she felt so bad about not being there for us. But what could she do? She had to be there for her father. Even though, when we spoke that first week on the phone, it didn’t sound like she was in the hospital. It sounded too quiet, echoey. Suspicious, even. It’s sad he didn’t pull through. I’ll always be grateful to her for coming to stay with us so soon after he died, even though at the time all I wanted was to be left alone.
Although he hasn’t said so to my face, I know Greg blames me, and I don’t resent him for this, because if the roles were reversed, I’d probably do the same. But that’s all hypothetical, isn’t it? Because it was me who lost our daughter, all because I was too busy talking to you, worrying about myself, about losing you; something Greg would never have done, because he’s the opposite of me.
You have tried calling me several times, left messages saying how sorry you are, and if there’s anything you can do to help, just say the word. You always sound genuine, almost as distraught as me, which I guess shouldn’t surprise me because of what only you and I know. I dare say you blame yourself for calling me, for trying to end things while I was out and about with Heidi, and that guilt must be devouring you.
But you know as well as I do that unless you have the capability to turn back time –
unless you can find Heidi for me – nothing can put this right. Nothing.
Chapter Forty-Two
Greg
Now
‘Dan, what are you doing here?’ I get up from the sofa and walk over to our son, who’s loitering in the doorway.
‘Nice to see you too, Dad.’ Daniel’s tone is caustic, and I see his eyes flit to my empty whisky tumbler. ‘Bit early for the hard stuff, isn’t it? You turning into a lush like Mum?’
There’s clearly something very wrong. Daniel hardly ever speaks to me that way. Such sarcasm is usually reserved for you, Chrissy.
‘Sorry, son, it’s not that I’m not pleased to see you, I just wasn’t expecting you.’
I study our son intently, still wondering what’s up. After berating me for missing lunch, you told me you’d never seen him looking so content, so I am both puzzled and unnerved by his moroseness.
‘What’s wrong, Dan? Something’s up, I can tell.’
Daniel ventures further into the room, moves past me. As he does, I catch a whiff of alcohol, and it’s clear he’s had a few himself. He comes to a standstill in front of our fake fireplace, spends a few seconds examining the family photos lined up on the mantelpiece. Some of them were taken when he and Ella were small, some of them as teenagers. A stranger to our family would never guess that behind these happy, smiling faces was a highly dysfunctional family.
Daniel echoes my thoughts out loud. ‘What a joke,’ he sniggers, but doesn’t turn around.
I move closer to him, conscious that you’re still not home. Where are you?
I place my hand on his shoulder. ‘What’s wrong? Mum said you seemed the happiest she’s ever seen you. Is it to do with Freya being her psychiatrist? I’m sure that must have come as quite a shock to you. I know I was taken aback when your mother told me.’
Daniel turns around, and there are tears in his eyes. ‘It was a shock, Dad, but after the three of us talked it over, they both seemed fine about it.’
‘So, has something happened since, son?’
‘Freya’s called off the engagement.’
My heart stops. I watch a tear roll down Daniel’s cheek. He wipes it away angrily, like he’s embarrassed to cry in front of his old man.
‘Why?’ I ask.
‘It’s her. She fucks everything up, she always does. She’s so bloody selfish, such a deranged, twisted bitch who only ever thinks of herself. She fucked me and Ella up as kids, and now she’s fucking up any chance of us being happy as adults. What’s wrong with the stupid cow?’
I look at our son, in such pain, and my heart bleeds for him. I feel so angry with you, almost like I want to kill you, just so you’d be out of our lives, and there’d no longer be any risk of you messing things up for us. Daniel and Ella would be happy, and I could run off into the sunset with Amber. But I manage to calm myself, tell myself I don’t know the full story yet.
‘How do you know Mum did anything?’
‘Why are you always defending her?’ Daniel rages. ‘She treats you like shit; why didn’t you leave her long ago, Dad?’
It’s a question I’ve asked myself many times. And now, looking back, maybe I should have left you, married someone else. Someone who would have been a proper mother to our children. But I guess I was determined not to be my parents.
‘Life’s not always that straightforward, Daniel. Maybe I should have, but we can all wish we’d said or done things differently. That’s the beauty of hindsight. If we had that luxury, we’d all be living perfect lives.’
He doesn’t argue, but he’s still full of rage. I can’t stand seeing him like this.
‘Freya said she could tell Mum’s massively uncomfortable with us being a couple while she’s seeing her as a patient. She said she thought she could separate our relationship from her professional relationship with Mum, but apparently Mum said some stuff to her today which makes that impossible. She said there’s too much of a conflict of interest for us to carry on as a couple.’
‘What stuff?’ I mutter. I wonder if this has any connection to the email? A copy of which is still tucked away safely in my pocket, and which I have no intention of burdening poor Daniel with.
‘Obviously she didn’t say.’ Daniel glowers at me. ‘She’s too professional. Which is why she’s ended things.’
‘Tell your mother to stop seeing her,’ I say. ‘No, sod that – I’ll bloody well tell her.’
Daniel shakes his head. ‘It’s too late for that. Whatever she told Freya, it freaked her out. She says she knows too much for things to ever work between us.’
Daniel ruffles his hair in frustration, looks up to the ceiling as if seeking help from some higher entity. ‘After all this time being miserable, I finally thought I could be happy.’ He lowers his eyes, still wet with tears, and meets my gaze straight on. ‘I was happy, Dad. But now I’ve lost Freya, I don’t think I’ll ever be happy again.’
He makes to leave, but I put out my hand and catch his arm. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Home. To get wasted.’
‘Let me come with you,’ I protest, fearing he might do something stupid. I think about his history of drug abuse and worry he’ll fall back into his old habits.
‘No.’ His expression is fixed. Our son is stubborn, and I realize he won’t budge. ‘Don’t worry, Dad, I’m not going to top myself, if that’s what you’re worried about. Not today, at least.’
Feeling mildly relieved, I let him go, but make one last attempt to try and persuade him to stay. ‘Stay, wait for your mother. We can talk this through. Perhaps she can have a word with Freya?’
‘No.’ His tone is adamant. ‘I don’t want to see her, and I don’t want her help. She can go to hell for all I care.’
I follow him to the hall where I watch him throw on his jacket, open the front door and leave without saying another word.
Chapter Forty-Three
Christine
Now
When I left Dr Cousins’ place, I went for a long run on the treadmill at
the gym. Too wired from our session to go straight home.
I still can’t believe I told her about my affair after keeping it to myself all these years. OK, so I’ve not told her everything, but it’s still a massive step, and I feel like I’ve come further with her in the few sessions we’ve had than I did with any of my other psychiatrists.
Why did I feel able to tell her? I thought about this as I ran, cranking up the pace every ten minutes until sweat poured off me and my heart rate climbed to near-dangerous levels. Was it just a question of timing? Just the fact that after all these years, I could no longer keep it inside me, simply had to tell someone and, if not her, it would have been some other equally qualified psychiatrist? Was it the note that pushed me, warning me that I need to be truthful with myself and with others if I want to discover the truth behind your disappearance? Was it Janine seeing Greg with another woman this morning that made me feel less guilty about my own infidelity, and therefore less scared about coming clean? Or is it simply that I’ve finally found the right psychiatrist who’s able to draw it out of me, perhaps because of her unusual approach – caring one moment, disapproving the next? Whatever the case, both Janine and I have a lot to thank Miranda for. If it wasn’t for her, we’d never have met Dr Cousins.
After the gym, I had a drink in the members’ bar to reward myself for the progress I made today. Besides my own good fortune, I also think how lucky Daniel is to have found Dr Cousins. Maybe life is finally looking up for me and my family. If only the police could make some progress with the note, that would be something, but my guess is that they’re not even close to identifying the sender. It’s a nigh on impossible job tracing untracked mail.
It’s 7.30 by the time I arrive at my front door. I see that Greg’s beaten me to it because the curtains are drawn and the hall light is on. High from my run and buoyed by my large glass of Chablis, I feel ready to confront him about his mistress even though I know I’m a hypocrite and should be confessing to my own infidelity. But when I open the door, remove my coat, and find him pacing the living-room floor, I am not prepared for the onslaught that awaits me.
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