by Gayle Curtis
There was no denying it – Elise hated him. With every hour that had passed since Ida’s death, the weight of his existence had become heavier. There was no going back, no changing her mind, and it had all just dawned on her a little too late that, actually, she hadn’t wanted any more children; she just wanted the one she’d lost. It was clear to Elise that if she hadn’t agreed to have another child, they’d still have Ida. That was the forfeit.
When Ida was born, aside from the shocking earthquake that sent a tremor through her world, Elise had been filled with awe and wonder, an overwhelming, all-consuming, engulfing love for the little person she’d created. It was so overpowering Elise thought she’d be sick from it; she had been totally in love with this small baby.
She longed for those days when she thought about the situation they were dealing with now, which had descended on their home like a dark cloak, and smelt and felt like death.
‘You okay, love?’ Nathaniel said.
Another stupid question, but that didn’t surprise her – Nathaniel had been asking them since Ida had died. His father and stepmother had come over and were currently in the sitting room with DC Chilvers, discussing everything, but Elise had no inclination to talk to anyone. The small imposter decided to settle, giving Elise a rare moment of quiet, so she made some tea and went up to the roof terrace, ignoring Nathaniel’s fussing.
Elise pulled a chair out from the garden table and sat in view of the shed they had bought Ida and erected in the corner of the terrace. Ida had painted it not in bright colours as you would have expected of a teenager, but a delicate sky-grey matte – neat and understated. She had insisted on having large pot plants out the front of it, and they had grown so much the shed was only partly visible through the foliage. Very quickly, the shelves of the shed were filled with jars of insects and wooden boxes with glass tops containing various moths and butterflies, collected on long walks and now frozen in time. Ray would often go on these walks with Ida, and spent a lot of time in the shed with her, the two of them perched on little stools drinking hot chocolate.
Elise sighed, swallowing down more tears. Ida wasn’t here anymore, and Elise couldn’t help feeling that she wasn’t either.
Everything had changed, of course it had, but it wasn’t just the fact their home contained more police officers, whom she detested, and various family members who wouldn’t normally visit. It was like they’d moved properties and Elise had forgotten about it – everything seemed strange and unfamiliar. They’d become the family she had always pitied, the people behind the glass whom everyone stared and pointed at, always remembered for one thing only – they had a murdered daughter. Nathaniel had thought it would be good for them to return to the apartment, part of some strange acceptance, but it was just making her feel worse.
Back inside, Elise moved slowly to Ida’s bedroom and stood looking through the open doorway, acutely aware of her daughter’s empty desk chair. Voices in the sitting room had quieted and she could see DC Chilvers staring at her through the gap in the door at the end of the hall. A look of pity on her face – of course Elise would fail as a parent; she was bound to follow in her mother’s footsteps.
Elise purposefully slammed the door to Ida’s room. And that’s how she wanted it to stay. Closed, forever casting darkness across the corridor until Ida opened it again.
Nathaniel bumped into Elise in the hallway. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I’d like everyone to leave, including you. Take that with you as well.’ Elise pointed at the baby. ‘I want to be left alone.’
‘Why don’t you go and lie down for a bit?’
Elise took a deep breath. ‘Nathaniel, go and stay with your dad and take the children with you. This isn’t your problem.’
She saw the pain that whipped across his face and she liked that he was hurting. She wanted to cause suffering to everyone she could. It wasn’t in her nature to be unkind, but after years of bottling up feelings and putting them on the shelf, she needed to lash out – a nasty cocktail of hormones, drugs and sleep deprivation.
‘Don’t do this, Elise. Ida is my daughter too,’ Nathaniel quietly retorted.
‘But I gave birth to her, it’s different for me,’ Elise snapped, spitefully.
‘Come on, love, everybody is upset.’ Nathaniel’s dad, Nick, joined them in the hallway, his wife, Karen, standing behind him.
‘Go and play happy families in your own home, Nick. You don’t need to be caught up in any of this awful mess. All of you, please leave.’ Elise’s rage was beginning to engulf her, so she took herself into Ida’s bedroom and closed the door. The stark reality of her daughter’s absence hit her like a sharp gust of icy-cold air, taking all the rage out of her body. She tiptoed carefully over to Ida’s desk, where there were various items with some kind of importance. A foil-wrapped chocolate from a Chinese restaurant they’d taken Ida to – her first grown-up meal for her twelfth birthday. There was a crude pencil case she’d made in Textiles. Elise unzipped it and lifted the felt bag to her face, so she could smell all the fruit-shaped erasers it contained. She tipped them out on to the desk, remembering the sweet strawberry scent that hovered around Ida when she was doing her homework. A lone marble dropped on to the table and rolled off the desk and on to the chair, eventually landing on the carpet with a whisper of a thud. Elise carefully bent down to retrieve it, the ache of her body reminding her of the traumatic time she’d had giving birth to Buddy.
She held the battered glass ball up to the light, recalling how Ida had discovered it on the beach, which had caused much excitement. She had spent the rest of the day making up stories about where it had come from – children playing on boats near remote islands, or a shipwreck spewing it out.
Of course, both then and now, the sight of the marble made Elise feel nauseous, reminding her of the past.
The dynamics had been perfect that day, and after all these years Elise could still remember it so well; she had never before been able to get a marble to hit each step, all the way down, without it rolling off one of the open slats and falling to the floor below. A simultaneous moment of joy and devastation.
A feeling that she now understood to be freedom would float around her whenever she let the marbles loose from the confines of their bag. She was forbidden from leaving them on the floor, especially near the staircase – the dangers were clear – but occasionally she would allow one, carefully observed, to roll away from the group. It made her feel exposed – alone, in a strange way – like a baby bird briefly left by its mother, open to the horrors of prey. But Elise had liked that feeling. She was that marble and she could still hear the sound of it clonking its way down the steps. Her mother had always been the marble that rolled off the back of the slat, landing straight on to the tiled floor beneath. The sound still followed the gunshot in her head, like the familiarity of the next song on an album.
Now it was Elise tumbling down those stairs, rolling away, falling from the life she knew. It was always hovering in the background.
In her head, during meditation in her therapy sessions, she would visit the place outside the bathroom door, the marbles tucked away, giving her hope; all restrained in a small bag, banging against one another, clamouring, squashed, to then so suddenly be free and sprayed across the carpet. That was her mother that day – free from her constraints, blasting herself into oblivion on the other side of the bathroom door at precisely 16.43, or so Elise had believed, while she waited patiently outside. Not content with being released from her marble bag, Ingrid had sought a new kind of freedom, one she could never find beyond the front door of their house.
For years after, Elise wondered why her mother had left her behind. That was when she truly understood loneliness, at the young age of eleven, and she had believed ever since that this emotion hit you once, like being scarred from a burn, and it would always be with you, reignited at certain times in your life but never as severe as the first. And there Elise had stayed, in her head, at the top of the stai
rs in Ingrid’s house, waiting for someone to come and collect her.
Returning the marble to Ida’s desk, a piece of folded paper caught her eye. It was weighty when she picked it up, and she unfolded it to reveal a small oval mirror, with gold gilt edging. Across the middle was a large crack, causing the top piece of glass to slide underneath the other part when Elise held it up. A note on the piece of paper read: For the doll’s house. To be placed in the hall. She recognised the handwriting, and everything slowly started to shudder, like a giant drill sliding into the earth.
Elise left Ida’s room as quickly as her body would allow, walked up the staircase to the roof terrace and into her daughter’s shed, where she found the doll’s house missing.
‘What’s wrong?’
Elise turned to find Nathaniel behind her. ‘Where is Ida’s doll’s house?’
‘Tolek has it – said he’d fit the electrics for her,’ Nathaniel said.
‘Was there anything inside?’
‘Not that I’m aware of. I didn’t check. Tolek collected it a couple of weeks ago.’
Elise began to shake. Turning around, she looked at the empty space where the beloved doll’s house had been. ‘Get it back, Nathaniel. Get the doll’s house and put it back exactly where it was.’
‘I’ll ask Tolek if he’s finished with it and then I’ll collect it. Just calm down.’
‘Get it back now!’ Elise screamed as she pushed past him and made her way down the stairs.
‘Okay, I’ll sort it out. There’s no need to get in such a state about it. I’ll call him now.’ Nathaniel walked off in search of his phone.
Slightly calmer, Elise wandered into their bedroom, where she found the little stranger had been settled into his Moses basket, and she picked him up and took him up to the roof terrace. He was screaming full pitch by the time Nathaniel discovered Elise standing on the ledge with the low glass surround bearing her full weight. As he approached her, Elise pulled a screaming Buddy from her chest and held him over the balcony, in mid-air, three floors up.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
THEN
Completely broken, Nathaniel dropped to his knees, his voice shuddering with tears as he begged Elise not to hurt Buddy, hoping somebody downstairs would realise there was something wrong and come and help him.
‘I can’t go on, Nathaniel, I can’t live without her, without Ida.’ Elise was sobbing uncontrollably, and he was finding it difficult to hear exactly what she was saying.
‘Let me help you, Elise. Please don’t do this. We can and we will get through this.’
Elise closed her eyes and shook her head, still holding a now strangely quiet Buddy over the edge, making Nathaniel clutch his head in despair. He wanted to run and grab them both but he was so frightened she would step over the barrier and jump. Slowly and carefully, Nathaniel pulled his phone from his back pocket.
‘Nathaniel?’ It was DC Chilvers, summoned without him having to dial. She came up behind him and helped him to his feet. ‘Go inside, please.’
‘I can’t leave them . . .’ Nathaniel said, shaking with fear.
‘Trust me. I know how to deal with this. Go and call your doctor. Please, Nathaniel.’ DC Chilvers squeezed his arm.
Reluctantly, Nathaniel went inside and somehow managed to call their GP. He stood in the hallway, not wanting to alarm the others. About ten minutes later, Elise appeared at the top of the stairs without Buddy, and for a moment, until he heard him crying again, Nathaniel had the horrifying fear she’d gone through with her threats, but DC Chilvers came down the steps holding their baby.
Nick came out of the sitting room holding an empty coffee cup, oblivious to what had just occurred. ‘Everything okay?’
There were a few silent moments before anyone answered, and Nathaniel was too upset to find any words.
‘Everything is fine,’ DC Chilvers said to Nick, who had been joined by Karen. ‘No harm done. Elise is just a little overwrought and needs some sleep.’
Nathaniel relieved her of a screaming Buddy and somehow managed to calm him down.
‘What’s going on, son?’ Nick moved towards Nathaniel. ‘Do you want us to take Miles and Buddy back to ours for a day or two?’
‘Thanks, that might be a good idea,’ Nathaniel said, staring at Elise, who was leaning against the stair rail, focusing on the floor. He had an overwhelming urge to embrace her and throw her at the wall at the same time.
To stop himself doing anything he might regret, Nathaniel left the apartment and went across to Tolek’s to fetch the doll’s house, in the hope it might calm her down. The moment their neighbour answered the door, Nathaniel broke down, he was so exhausted with grief and despair. Tolek led him into his sitting room and poured them each a large whiskey. Nathaniel allowed the viscous, golden liquid to heat his cold and empty insides, and took a deep breath for what felt like the first time that day. They talked for a while and Nathaniel felt better for offloading.
‘I better get back.’
‘It’s probably not the right time, but I’ve been meaning to talk to you, make sure we’re on the same page?’ Tolek said. ‘You haven’t told anyone about our “project”?’
‘No, I haven’t said anything. We’re on the same page. Although the police have my computer, so it’s only a matter of time before the police unlock those files.’ Nathaniel tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. ‘What a fucking mess. How did we get here?’
‘Just sit tight,’ Tolek said, squeezing his friend’s shoulder as he got up to fetch the doll’s house.
Nathaniel swallowed hard at the sight of the structure Ida had been so fond of and spent so much time renovating. He had picked it up at an auction and remembered her excitement when she’d first seen it. That had led Ray to tell Miles and Ida about the Nutshell Studies and they’d been fascinated with doll’s houses ever since. Nathaniel decided now they would get it all working and filled with furniture in Ida’s memory.
‘Thanks for this.’ Nathaniel lifted it up awkwardly.
‘I’m sorry, but I haven’t had a chance to fit the lights. I’ll come over sometime and do it for you.’
Nathaniel walked across the hall and set the structure carefully on to the floor, so he could find his door key. The catch on the doll’s house roof had come loose and some papers were poking out of the gap. Frowning, Nathaniel placed his keys back in his pocket and lifted the lid. Inside, he found a pile of letters. He flicked through them briefly, scanning various paragraphs, tripping over some of the words. The handwriting was unfamiliar to him, but the content made perfect sense.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
THEN
Nathaniel wasn’t surprised as to why he would suddenly be asked to go to the police station the next day to answer some questions. DC Chilvers had been quite terse about it on the phone when she’d told him.
‘Can’t you ask me the questions now, or another officer come here to do it?’ Nathaniel asked, buying himself some time.
‘No. They want you to go down to the station,’ DC Chilvers said before the line went dead.
Nathaniel didn’t have a problem answering questions, it was battling the press that were camped outside their apartment that bothered him. None of that lot were in the mood to be cordial with them. The shock and numbness from Ida’s death had begun to wear off, and the full force of the reality was beginning to hit them all. The rot was setting in and people were starting to accuse them of killing Ida. Nathaniel had known it would happen – he’d seen it with so many high-profile cases.
From what Nathaniel understood, the police were expecting to charge someone later that day. Nathaniel had wondered if Ray was the one about to be charged – it wouldn’t surprise him, knowing Ray’s unethical past. The thought immediately made him feel guilty, despite the fact he didn’t like the man; he knew how much Ray loved Ida.
DC Chilvers had arranged for her colleague, DC Greg Aster, to collect Nathaniel and drive him to the station, but other than general talk, the o
fficer didn’t say anything.
Nathaniel was greeted by another officer and was struggling to remember all their names. ‘There’s nothing to worry about, Mr Munroe, we just want to ask you some questions. I’m DS Brand and this is DC Aster, as you already know.’
‘Has this got something to do with the man you’ve arrested?’
‘Take a seat, Mr Munroe. Can we get you some tea or coffee?’
‘Just water thanks.’ Nathaniel’s mouth was dry already.
They all took their seats in the interview room and waited for the recorder to stop buzzing.
‘Mr Munroe, where were you on Thursday the third of March between eight and nine a.m.?’
Nathaniel took a moment to think; the days had all blended into one blurred mass of time. ‘Oh, that was a couple of days ago, sorry.’
‘That’s okay, take your time.’ DS Brand sniffed and rested her hands on her lap.
‘I went to my support group as I always do on a Wednesday evening – it’s a support group for families affected by suicide. Magda King runs it. I bumped into an old friend and arranged to meet him for coffee the following morning.’
Both officers just stared at him, waiting for him to continue.
‘It was the morning that . . . Ida . . . well, when Ida died . . . but I wasn’t aware she’d passed at the time.’ Nathaniel stared at the table, wondering why he hadn’t remembered not being at the hospital when his daughter had died.
