I thought about leaving the safety chain where it was and attempting to carry on a conversation through the barely open door. But it was the police.
‘I’ll just take the chain off,’ I said, and shut the door in the officer’s face. The chain stuck and it took me longer than I liked to get it undone. I cursed under my breath until if finally came free. I opened the door.
‘Mrs Marsden,’ the officer said.
Although he hadn’t said my name as a question, I didn’t recognise the young man on my doorstep.
Outside was dark and a faint light from inside the house lit up his face. I was struck by how young he really looked. Not much older than Michael really. He certainly didn’t look old enough to drive. I couldn’t help looking past him to the police car to see if his mum had brought him. Another officer sat in the passenger seat. He didn’t look like anyone’s mum.
‘Hi,’ I said.
‘May I come in,’ he said.
I knew that that wasn’t a question either.
‘Of course,’ I said, and stood back from the door to allow him in. ‘Go through to the living room.’
I didn’t really want Michael and Rose to see the police. Things were eventful enough as they were. But I knew I couldn’t very well have a chat by the front door without things seeming a little odd.
I shut the front door and walked after the officer. He stopped a few paces in and turned to me. He glanced at the packet of tablets in my hand.
‘Headache?’ he said.
‘They’re for my husband. He’s come home from work not feeling very well.’
‘Mr Marsden?’ he said.
I nodded.
He glanced around the room, staring at things as though he was assessing the house for purchase. The police radio strapped to his left breast crackled. Male voices chattered. The words made no sense. The young boy ignored the chatter.
‘We had a call,’ he said. ‘Came through as an emergency.’
I breathed out, unaware that I had been holding my breath.
‘That was me,’ I said. ‘It was an accident.’
He looked at me, his eyebrows raised.
‘An accident?’ he said. ‘Was anyone hurt?’
I wasn’t sure if this was police humour, or whether he was being serious. As a result, I didn’t know how I should answer the question. I hesitated.
He somehow managed to raise his eyebrows even further.
‘Mrs Marsden?’
Michael and Rose were still in the dining room, arguing about something. Probably nothing.
‘I rang the number by mistake,’ I said. ‘Someone has already rung me back. I explained it was a mistake.’
He looked around some more.
‘You mentioned something on the phone about an intruder,’ he said. He stopped looking around and stared directly at me. ‘Was there one?’
I felt like I needed a drink of water. My throat felt raspy.
‘I thought I had heard someone,’ I said. ‘I was upstairs, and I thought I heard someone downstairs.’
‘Did you have a look?’ he said.
‘When I got to the top of the stairs I saw a shadow at the bottom — thought I saw a shadow. So I ran down the stairs, shouting.’
One corner of his mouth twitched upwards. He forced it back down again.
‘Then when I got downstairs, I thought I saw a shape running to the kitchen. Another shadow, really. I ran as fast as I could but when I got into the kitchen there was no one there. The kitchen window was wide open and a plant had been knocked off the window sill.’
‘Did you see anyone outside?’
I shook my head.
‘He was gone.’
‘He?’ he said. ‘I thought you said you didn’t actually see anything more than shadows?’
‘Not him, then,’ I said. ‘Just whoever, whatever. Anyway, I thought that perhaps I might have imagined it. I picked up the phone to ring the police, but then reconsidered. I must have already dialled the number. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.’
It sounded like the argument in the dining room was starting to die down. I had no doubt that the children would be charging through the living room at any moment, either to watch TV or to go up to their rooms. I wanted the police boy gone as soon as possible. I wanted to go upstairs and talk to Neil and then I wanted to talk to the kids. I did not want to be explaining yet another police officer in our house.
‘So it really was nothing,’ I said. ‘I’m so sorry to have caused you any trouble. But I’m very grateful that you came round to check that everything was OK. Thank you.’
My heart rate increased again. I wasn’t sure that I was handling this particularly well. The police officer looked unimpressed.
‘I think I should have a quick look around,’ he said. ‘Just to make sure.’
This really wasn’t going the way I had hoped. A vein in my neck started throbbing.
‘This was ages ago,’ I said. ‘Really, there’s no one here. And nothing is missing. I’ve checked the whole house.’
‘Where is your husband, Mrs Marsden?’ he said.
I felt like this was running away from me.
‘He’s ill, upstairs. I was just getting him a drink of water and some tablets.’
I shook the box of tablets. The sound of rattling pills I had hoped for didn’t materialise. I must have looked faintly ridiculous. Or worse.
‘All of those tablets?’
A heavy pulse started in my invisible leg wound. It kept a beat all its own, completely out of kilter with the throbbing of my neck vein and the pounding of my heart.
‘Of course not,’ I said.
The young police officer’s posture changed. He seemed to hunch down a little. His eyes narrowed and he looked around again. But his time his head movements were quicker. It was as though a bomb had gone off nearby and he was hunting around for the perpetrator. His hand reached up to his radio and he turned his mouth towards it.
‘Mike, do you want to come in here a second,’ he said.
At first I thought he was speaking to Michael. A bizarre conspiracy theory sped through my already spinning brain.
It felt like no time had passed from him speaking into his radio, to there being a knock at the front door. Not loud, but loud enough to demand attention.
‘My colleague, Mrs Marsden. Would you let him in please.’
The heavy pulse in my leg became something more. I felt jagged broken glass twisting and pushing into me. Now that I had seen the horror of the dream with more clarity, so the pain became more defined. Inside my leg I felt flesh and muscle becoming reshaped and deformed as the shattered bottle stabbed and turned.
Perhaps it was because I now knew what had caused the pain, or maybe it was the reminder of what I had been doing when I was stabbed — whatever it was, I cried out.
Instantly I felt my forearms changing. Becoming stronger. Although I was in my own living room, I felt as though I had been transported back to the wild place with the gorse. An enormous rage grew within me.
At the back of my mind I heard more knocking at the front door.
Stay here Christine. Stay here.
I fought my mind. Battled with it to regain control.
The knocking grew louder.
My vision blurred in and out. My left leg with the wound, crumpled under me. I didn’t fall.
Through the blur I saw the young police officer reach again for his radio. He moved closer to me. I grabbed hold of his shoulders to stop myself falling to the ground.
His voice grew louder, he was shouting into his radio. Or was he shouting to someone else.
I heard another voice. I knew I had to fight. But I didn’t know whether to fight the voice or the police officer. Confusion swirled around me. I had to fight back. The police officer must be attacking me. He must be trying to catch me. Trying to arrest me. I have to fight back.
I can hear crying. The police officer is shouting somewhere else now. As I cling onto him, he is waving his arm about, pointing. He
’s shouting to get back. But I can’t. I need to stop him. But he’s not shouting at me. I recognise the crying. It is Rose. Michael is shouting at me now. It was a conspiracy. But he’s shouting out ‘Mum, Mum, Mum. Please stop.’
I cry out again as the pain in my leg intensifies. It is stinging, as though someone has just squeezed lemon juice into the open wound.
I have to escape. I have to get away from the police. I can’t kill them with Michael there. He’ll see me. He’ll tell his dad.
My ears tingle and wind rushes around them. The wind drowns out all the voices, all the shouting. All except my voice. The voice inside me. Steady, calm and commanding. I feel what it wants. I don’t need to understand the words. I feel them.
It becomes darker. A mist has come down. A dark mist. And the noise of the wind diminishes. No voices from the world, no sound at all.
Just the tuneful hum of the voice inside me. Nothing more than a whisper now. Nothing more than a suggestion. A hint.
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Inheritance Page 41
