All in Her Head: The gripping debut thriller that readers are going crazy for in 2020

by Nikki Smith

  ‘I’m so sorry, Ali. I really am. I just lost it. You were going—’

  ‘Let me inside, please,’ she says.

  I open the door and we walk up the corridor in silence into the flat.

  She holds out her mobile. ‘I’ve put Tilly in her Moses basket for a nap. Can you call Lisa?’

  ‘Why?’ I ask.

  ‘I don’t want her coming over today,’ she replies.

  I hesitate. ‘You just agreed you’d see her.’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘In the car. You agreed to talk to her if we didn’t go to the doctor’s. She needs to check on you to make sure you’re OK.’ We’d had the conversation less than thirty minutes ago. She must remember.

  ‘Well, I’m not, am I. Clearly. D’you want her seeing this down the side of my face?’ She points to her cheek. The mark is less livid but still noticeable. I look down at the floor. ‘Call her,’ she says.

  I take a deep breath. ‘Ali, we need help. I think you should let her come over.’

  ‘No.’

  I put the empty car seat down on the floor in the hall. ‘You need to tell her what’s going on.’ I hesitate. ‘And I mean what’s actually going on.’ I look at the bandage round her wrist.

  ‘Is this some kind of tit-for-tat thing?’ she asks. ‘I won’t tell her if you don’t?’ Her voice is cold.

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ I say.

  ‘Call her.’ She presses her phone into my hand.

  ‘We need some help,’ I plead.

  ‘I don’t need help. I don’t need anyone.’

  ‘Please, Ali.’ She covers her face with her hands and sinks to the floor. I put my arms round her, expecting to be rejected, but she doesn’t push me away. ‘You’ve got to talk to someone,’ I say.

  ‘OK. I’ll talk to her. But not right now. Get her to come over tomorrow. I can’t deal with her today.’

  I can feel her tears as they slide off her face onto my neck. Maybe this is a turning point.

  I give in. We sit beside each other on the floor as I dial Lisa’s number and tell more lies. This time about my wife. I lie that she’s tired and wants to have a sleep this afternoon. I lie that she’s been eating well and her stitches haven’t been hurting any more than usual and that she slept better last night. I lie that everything is fine and we don’t need to see her until tomorrow.

  I hand the phone back to Ali. I’ve given in to save myself. I pray she’ll stick to her word. I look at her sitting next to me, staring into the distance, the mark from my hand still visible on her face, and feel sick with guilt. For so many reasons. She doesn’t speak, but as I stare more closely, I see her lips are moving, as if she’s having a silent conversation.

  THEN

  Alison – Day Five

  We’re both awake, lying next to each other, pretending to be asleep. I could lean over and touch him, but there’s such a distance between us now, I can’t see the point. I glance across at the familiar outline of his face in the dark. His eyes are shut and he’s breathing steadily, but I know he won’t let himself drift into unconsciousness. The muscle in his jaw flickers despite his efforts to appear relaxed and I know he’s waiting until I doze off as he doesn’t want to leave me alone. I’m not giving him the opportunity to be with Tilly without me. Stay awake. It fires the words like bullets, every couple of minutes, as waves of sleep lap at the edges of my mind.

  I move my tongue round the inside of my cheek, stretching the skin, feeling the twinges of soreness where he hit me. It hurts, but the pain in my chest hurts more. He’s shown me what he’s capable of. In that one small movement, he’s destroyed all the trust I ever had in him. All the things I thought he was, I cannot be sure of anymore. The man lying beside me is a stranger. He’s betrayed me in the worst possible way. A father is supposed to love and protect their family. He’s just been pretending he wants this, pretending that he loves me and he loves Tilly, but he doesn’t. He’s lied to us about so many things and after what he did yesterday, I know I can’t leave him alone with my daughter.

  My stitches are irritating me. My body feels like I’ve borrowed someone else’s. I spent nine months with my stomach expanding, my skin getting tighter and tighter as Tilly grew bigger. I knew every inch, every curve. I used to run my hands over her, feeling her early flutters, and, later, full-on kicks and punches just below the smooth surface. My tummy button, which was once a neat hole, had been pushed out into a bump, like a small flesh-coloured mushroom, every last millimetre of skin straining to contain her growing body. One minute she’d been part of me and now she’s lying in her Moses basket, a separate person. I’d created something perfect but didn’t realise it would leave me broken.

  My stomach sags in rolls, its tautness gone forever. All the handfuls of cream I’d rubbed in were a waste of time; it’s scarred irreparably with lines that criss-cross the surface like a cracked egg. Some have turned a shiny white colour; smooth and hairless, they run like rivers across the sea of flesh. Lisa said I’m healing, but I don’t believe her. I can’t be repaired and am only held together with string.

  I scratch between my thighs where one of the stitches digs into me, catching one of the black knots with my fingertips. It’s stiff and hard. Someone in our NCT group said they’re made from catgut. Part of an animal is entwined into my skin. I have a new body and it’s not even human. I pick at the loop that feels like thick cotton between my fingers. It doesn’t hurt. I pull harder. Something unravels. I tug again. Something inside me falls apart. The thread zigzags across my skin, unstitching my insides from my stomach to my chest, leaving a gaping wound. I search through the layers of flesh, through the fat and blood vessels, delving down to the muscle, to see if I can find the remains of my once familiar body.

  ‘Ali.’

  I open my eyes. I flinch as he touches my arm.

  ‘You’re mumbling. Are you OK?’

  I nod and turn over so I’m facing away from him. Stay awake. I run my hand over my stomach. No holes. I’m intact but have never felt so empty. I wait until his breathing falls into a regular pattern and his mouth goes slack. I have to be vigilant. I’m bombarded with random thoughts that make my brain run around in circles, jumping from one idea to the next. I am invincible.

  Jack’s trying to keep us here. I’d been warned about him from the start. That I should get out, that I should run. I hadn’t believed what the voice in my head had kept telling me, but I’ve been proved wrong over and over again. How many minutes Tilly had cried for when I put her down to sleep. How many drips had come out of the shower after I’d turned it off. How often Jack blew his nose in the bathroom in the morning. I am told the answers, and I count. Sometimes my head hurts, but I have to keep going. I’m not allowed to stop. There are so many numbers and patterns, I can’t keep track of them all.

  I’d only been right once. I’d counted five steps to get from the bedroom to the bathroom when I was told it would take four. I had to go back and do it again, taking larger strides each time until it worked. When I wrote on Tilly’s bedroom wall yesterday, I finally saw how everything fitted together. Jack still hasn’t been in there. It’s only a matter of time. I hope he understands when he sees it, but by then I’ll be gone.

  We play games. If Jack puts his toothbrush in the holder so it points towards the window, it shows he wants to hurt his daughter. He does, despite me concentrating all my thoughts to get him to point it towards the door, so we play again. If he puts on the navy socks and not the grey, I lose. I plead for one last chance, but I’m told the game is over. Two out of three. I’ve lost, fair and square. The bandage on my wrist shows what happens when I don’t do as I’m told.

  Jack knows it’s his fault. The look in his eyes when he opened the bathroom door yesterday told me what I needed to know. Guilt. He wants to get rid of Tilly. I wonder if he’s told his mother. Perhaps it’s what I overheard them talking about and they’re both hiding it from me. I won’t let them hurt her. Blood is thicker than wat
er. And his is contaminated. You should protect your child at all costs. Just like I’m protecting Tilly.

  I’ve been told where I need to go. I’m worried she’ll be cold. It’s windy despite the warm weather. Jack doesn’t understand. How can he? He isn’t part of the plan. He hasn’t seen the things I’ve been shown. I don’t think he realises what he’s capable of if he’s left alone with her. I know it’s the right time; I can’t wait any longer.

  I ease back the duvet and pick up Tilly out of her Moses basket. She lets out a small cry.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Jack sits up sharply in bed, already alert, his eyes focused on the blanket in my arms.

  ‘I … I need to go.’

  ‘What are you talking about? It’s …’ he turns his lamp on and squints at the beside clock, ‘half-past three in the morning.’ He throws off the covers as I press myself against the wall. ‘It’s the middle of the night. You’re not even dressed.’

  ‘We’re not safe,’ I say. ‘I need to leave. Tilly’s in danger.’

  ‘You’re not making any sense. Of course she’s safe. Come back to bed.’

  I retreat away from him. This is part of his plan; I was told he’d try to do this. Take her away from me. I clutch her tighter whilst he stands up and starts to walk towards me.

  ‘Talk to me, Ali. What are you doing?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk to you.’ I stand rigidly and watch as he edges towards the doorway, blocking it with his body. He’s trying to stop me leaving.

  ‘You’re not thinking clearly,’ he says.

  ‘I am. I know what you’re trying to do. I’ve been told. And I’ve written everything down and given it to Em. She’ll tell people if something happens to me or Tilly. She believes me. She’s got it all as evidence.’

  ‘Ali, I don’t understand what you’re talking about.’ He stares at me, but I can see through the layers of pretence he’s covered himself with like a coat of a thousand colours, trying to distract me from the blackness that lies at the heart of him.

  ‘I know you’ve lied to me, Jack,’ I say.

  He hesitates. ‘No, I haven’t.’

  ‘You have. You’ve inherited your father’s genes. You told me he was a liar. You’re turning into him, Jack. Lying to me. Destroying our future. Hitting me. You said you’d never do what he did. What if you do it to Tilly? I’m not going to let you. It’s me and her. It’s always going to be me and her.’

  ‘Ali, put Tilly down. I’m not my father. I couldn’t be more different to the person he is, and if you knew him, you’d understand what an insult that is.’ Jack spreads out his hands across the door frame, making himself as wide as possible.

  I clutch the blanket more tightly.

  ‘You have his eyes. I saw it in his photo,’ I say.

  He glances at his wardrobe. ‘Have you been going through my things?’ he asks.

  I don’t answer his question. ‘Stay away from me. You’re not coming near her. I won’t let you. You don’t understand. She’s special. You never wanted her and you never understood how much I did.’

  He stares at me, not speaking, a look of incredulity on his face.

  I gaze at Tilly in my arms. ‘Do you think I haven’t overheard you and your mum whispering when you don’t think I can hear? That I hadn’t noticed that woman at your office party last year who kept giving me strange looks and then told me how close you were? Are you paying her as well as your father?’

  He shakes his head and stammers as he starts to speak. ‘Ali, you’ve misunderstood. I told Steph about us needing to have treatment for IVF. That’s all. I’d been feeling so stressed about it and she was there when I needed to talk. I didn’t tell you because I knew you wanted it kept a secret. I don’t know why she said what she did at that party. She was drunk. There’s nothing going on between us. I promise you. And I wasn’t whispering to—’

  I interrupt him. ‘You’re lying. I know you’re lying. You’re keeping things from me, but you don’t realise I’m hiding something, too. I knew you didn’t want a baby, but I tried to have one anyway. Why d’you think I realised something was wrong so quickly? Because it wasn’t quick. We’d been trying for ages without you realising. I made the decision for us as I knew you’d never make it on your own. Not being able to get pregnant was my punishment. I carried it around without you ever knowing. And it grew inside me, just like the baby I wanted should have been doing, but this was something dark that sat rotting in my stomach, stopping anything else from thriving the longer I hid it.’

  He looks at me, stunned. ‘You wouldn’t have done that, Ali. This isn’t you talking. Put Tilly down.’

  Her face is so tiny. She’s still asleep, I can see the iridescent surface of a small bubble rise and fall in the gap between her lips as she breathes. She doesn’t know how much I love her. I’d die to protect her. She has no idea how much I’ve been through to have her. And I know he wants to take her away from me. She needs me to be strong. He isn’t going to let me leave. You need to find a better time. The thought is burned so brightly into my head, I see the imprint every time I shut my eyes. Wait. Have patience. I lay Tilly back down in her Moses basket and sit on the mattress.

  ‘How can you think I’d ever hurt her?’ Jack asks, the deep crease in his forehead softening now I’ve sat back down. ‘I love her. And I love you. I really do, Ali. What are you doing trying to run away in the middle of the night?’

  He looks into my eyes as he tucks my hair behind my ear and puts his arms around me. I go to pull away, but he slides his hands round my wrists, where his fingers dig into my skin. It’s uncomfortable. I try to push him off, but he holds on more tightly. ‘I mean it, Ali,’ he says. ‘You can’t leave. I won’t let you.’

  ‘Please, get off me.’ I slide out of his grip off the bed onto the floor. He doesn’t seem to hear me as he kicks out, scuffing the Dove Grey walls he’d once painted.

  ‘I want to help you, Ali, but you need to listen to me. D’you understand? Saying I’m turning into my father …’ He sinks down on the floor in front of my feet. ‘I know what that man is capable of, Ali. I could never do the things he’s done. Why d’you think I gave him our money? I’d have done anything to keep him away from us. I’m ashamed we’re even related. He almost destroyed my mother and he’ll destroy me if he gets the chance. I’m nothing like him. Nothing.’

  I put my hand up to touch my cheek where there’s still a very faint bruise and tears well in his eyes.

  He picks up Tilly’s blanket that I’d dropped when I put her in her basket. ‘You know how much I love you, don’t you?’ he says.

  The voice in my head is so loud, I press my head into my knees and shut my eyes to try to escape into the darkness. Find a better time. Not yet.

  He puts his hand on my shoulder and I look up.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, ‘I’m just scared. It took so long to have her and she’s so special … I’ll talk to Lisa tomorrow if you think it’ll help.’

  Jack pushes himself up off the floor and steps forward to hand me Tilly’s blanket before he picks her up out of her basket, his hands gently stroking her back to calm her. ‘You promise?’

  ‘I promise,’ I lie as I stand up slowly and sit back on the bed.

  ‘She’s hungry,’ he says tonelessly. ‘She needs feeding. I’ll sit with you.’ I know he’s only doing it so he can watch me, but I reach out my arms as he passes her to me and she latches on whilst I rest against the pillows. He sits beside me, staring blankly at the wall ahead.

  A million tiny pinpricks of light dance round in my head. Patience. He’s tired. He’ll fall asleep soon. I glance at him as he rubs his hand over his face and strains to suppress a yawn. I don’t think I’ll have long to wait.

  THEN

  Jack – Day Six

  I lie next to her and watch as the duvet rises and falls in a constant rhythm. She’s asleep. Finally. I edge to the side of the bed, a centimetre at a time, attempting to muffle the sound of my skin as it slides across
the sheet. She doesn’t stir. Tilly’s motionless in the basket beside her, satiated from her last feed. I creep across the floor and out of the bedroom, groping in the dark for my phone on the hall shelf. I shut the door to the kitchen with exaggerated slowness, wincing at every creak, and scroll down my list of contacts.

  ‘Hello?’ A groggy voice answers.

  ‘Em. It’s Jack,’ I mutter quietly.

  ‘Jack? What d’you … it’s … oh god … it’s five a.m. … what are you doing calling at …’

  I interrupt her, whispering frantically. ‘It’s Ali.’

  The bleariness in her voice vanishes. ‘What’s wrong with Ali? Why are you whispering?’

  ‘She doesn’t know I’m calling. She’s … not coping.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘At home. I think she’s having some kind of … I don’t know … She’s saying all these things and I woke up to find her trying to leave the flat. She thinks I want to hurt Tilly. She’s asleep at the moment, but I don’t know what to do, Em.

  I don’t think I should leave her on her own.’

  ‘Hang on a minute.’ There’s rustling as Em moves the phone around, adjusting her position. ‘She seemed OK the other day when I called round.’

  ‘Can you come over?’ I ask. ‘She trusts you.’

  ‘Sure. Give me a few minutes to get dressed?’

  ‘She’s literally just fallen asleep. She must be knackered even though she keeps insisting she’s not. Can you get here for half-six?’

  ‘Yes, no problem,’ she says. ‘Harry can stay with Josh and Jessica.’

  ‘Thanks. She won’t listen to me. It’s as if I’m talking to a stranger.’

  ‘I’ll speak to her. It’s all crazy to start with when you have your first.’

  I don’t contradict her, but she doesn’t understand how bad things are. ‘Thanks. And, Em, don’t press the buzzer on the intercom.’

  ‘All right,’ she says. ‘Go and sit with her. Try not to worry.’

  I walk into the sitting room and draw back the curtains. The sun is starting to come up. Dark grey clouds sit on top of an orange glow, squeezing it into an ever more concentrated colour towards the horizon. At the lowest point is a line of dark crimson, as if someone has pricked their finger and smudged it angrily across the skyline. I shiver as a gust of wind blows across the patio, flapping the material of the umbrella that shades the garden table.