Inheritance

by Thomas Wymark

The next morning I was woken by Rose running to the bathroom, flushing the toilet, then shuffling back to her bedroom.

  At first I didn’t remember the awful fight from the night before. But as I reached out, still half asleep, to touch Neil’s back, the memories rushed into place.

  Neil wasn’t there. In fact, his side of the bed felt pretty cold. I forced my eyes open fully and blinked to get rid of the sleep. Daylight had already changed the room from dark and cold to light and cold. The curtains held the warmth back. I reached over to my clock and switched the alarm setting to “off”. There was only another ten minutes to go before I was going to get up anyway.

  I sat up in the bed and rubbed my eyes. I looked at Neil’s side. His pillow still held the indentation of his head. There were some dark marks on it too. I pulled the duvet off his side and caught my breath. I put my hand to my mouth to stop the cry from coming out. Dark streaks lined the sheet. Deeply ingrained. Circles of dark, drying blood. Jagged lines of dark red, soaked into the sheet and, no doubt, the mattress below.

  I coughed. Gagged even. So much blood. And I knew that I had done it all. With my nails and my teeth. I looked at my fingernails. Remnants of blood had dried underneath the tips. I didn’t want to think about the possibility of Neil’s skin being there too.

  I climbed out of bed and took the duvet completely off. More blood on the underside of the duvet.

  None on my side. Pure white next to dark red and brown. A peaceful night for me. A bloody one for Neil. Too much blood, I thought. More than there should have been from the injuries caused by my nails. What had happened after I came to bed? I couldn’t remember coming to bed. Had I blacked out and attacked him some more? Was he dead?

  I heard Rose coming out of her bedroom again. Skipping down the landing towards our room. I flicked the duvet out and laid it over the bloody sheet. It covered his pillow too. Rose burst through the door. She was singing.

  I turned and smiled, held my arms open and she jumped into them.

  ‘How was your night?’ I said.

  ‘OK, thank you. How was yours?’

  I squeezed her and spun around, clutching her to me. She giggled.

  ‘Where’s Dad?’ she said.

  ‘Oh, he’s had to go into work early,’ I said. ‘He’s very busy at the moment.’

  ‘Let’s jump on the bed,’ she said. ‘Can I?’

  ‘Maybe later, sweetheart. We’ve got to get ready for school now, and have brekky. You run off and have your wash while I get dressed.’

  When she was gone, I checked to see what clothes Neil was wearing. His work suit was missing. He probably had gone into work early. I slid open the door of the en suite. Bloody tissues protruded from the bin. His flannel had streaks of red on it. I ran my thumb along the brush bit of his toothbrush. It felt dry. His razor blade the same.

  I pulled on my dressing gown and ran downstairs. The sofa was tipped up. Chairs overturned. Pages from my crossword book lay scattered on the floor. Small, bloody streaks ran along the top of the sofa. Neil wasn’t there.

  I ran to the front door. His briefcase was gone too. I checked the kitchen. No dirty cereal bowl on the side. None in the dishwasher either.

  Michael clumped about upstairs. I heard him whining. Rose had woken him with her noise.

  I rushed around the living-room picking up the torn pages, righting the furniture. I grabbed a tea-towel from the kitchen, held it under the cold tap and tried rubbing away the stain on the sofa. The redness came out of it, brighter than it had been before I rubbed it. It took quite a few minutes to make it look reasonable. I hoped Michael and Rose wouldn’t notice.

  I paused for a moment, tried to get my thoughts together. For the first time since waking up I became aware of the butterflies in my tummy, the pounding of my heart and the dull ache at the base of my skull. I couldn’t seem to make my breathing anything more than shallow. I wondered if eating would help. What a stupid thought. But I could get the children’s breakfast ready. Take my mind off what I had done.

  But first I ran to the kitchen, threw the bloody tea-towel into the washing machine and picked up the phone. Neil’s mobile went straight to voicemail. I looked over my shoulder to make sure Michael and Rose weren’t there, then spoke quietly into the phone.

  ‘Neil, it’s me. Look, I’m sorry about last night. I don’t know what happened there. I mean, I know I lost it. I know I attacked you. I’m so sorry. Please call me back if you get this. I was horrified when I woke up this morning. Please call me if you can.’

  The red-rimmed kitchen clock showed almost 7:30am. Any moment Abi would be knocking on the door to take the kids to school. And she would be dying to know how the night had gone. I shouted upstairs.

  ‘Michael, Rose. Come on you two. Breakfast is ready. Abi will be here soon.’

  They clattered downstairs and I rushed them through breakfast. I had just sent them back upstairs to clean their teeth when the doorbell rang. I shouted to the kids to get a move on as I went to answer the door.

  It was Abi. I noticed dark rings under her eyes.

  ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘How was it?’

  I managed a smile.

  ‘Great,’ I said. ‘How are you? You look a little tired.’

  She shrugged. She managed a smile too, but I could see it was forced.

  ‘I’m OK. Bit of a disturbed night, that’s all. Didn’t sleep too well. And once I was awake…’

  I felt my cheeks get hotter.

  ‘Do you want me to take Michael and Rose back to mine after school?’ she said, ‘have them stay over?’

  Hotter still. Neil must have gone round there in the night. He must have told them what I’d done. Shown them the wounds. He wanted the kids there, with him, away from me.

  I hesitated.

  ‘Chris?’ Abi said.

  But it would be better for the kids to be there. If Neil came home, we would obviously have a lot to talk about.

  ‘Would that be OK?’ I said.

  She nodded.

  ‘Of course. It’s no problem at all.’

  Rose bashed into my leg and hugged me. Michael ambled up behind her. I gave them both the biggest kiss I could. Hugged them both. Rose squeezed me back. Even Michael put his arms loosely around me.

  ‘Stay with Jess and Jo again tonight?’ I said. ‘Lucky you.’

  As they stepped out of the door Abi touched Rose’s cheek and ruffled Michael’s hair. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. No forced smiles for them. Anyone walking past would have thought that they were her children, not mine. They all climbed into Abi’s car. She waved goodbye to me. Michael and Rose were too busy with Josie and Jess.

  As soon as they were gone, I tried Neil’s mobile again. I didn’t bother leaving another message. He would see that it was another missed call anyway so he would know how often I had rung.

  Then I tried his work number. I got straight through.

  ‘He phoned in sick a few minutes ago,’ the girl said. ‘Is everything OK?’

  It must have sounded odd. Neil rings in sick, then five minutes later his wife rings in to speak to him.

  ‘He is,’ I said. ‘Sick, I mean. I think he was going to the doctor, then I thought he might come into work. He must be on his way home already.’

  As a liar I was anything but convincing.

  I needed to find out where Neil was.

  I rang Abi and Oliver’s. Of course neither of them were there. Oli would have been at work and I had just seen Abi set off with my children to school. But I thought Neil might pick up. Might somehow know it was me ringing.

  I thought about the amount of blood there had been on the sheet. I thought about how I had lashed out at my mum. Pushed her and Dad to the ground. I knew I was capable of hurting. I knew I had strength when I was blacked out.

  And all that blood.

  My heartbeat increased. A vein throbbed behind my right ear. I rushed to the back window and threw open the curtains. Half the lawn was covered in glistening dew, the ot
her half in bright sunlight. I looked towards the shed. Its dark window, surrounded by cobwebs inside, showed me nothing. I slipped on a pair of shoes and made my way to the shed. My hand shook as I opened the door.

  But he wasn’t there.

  So if I had killed him, I hadn’t dumped him in the shed.

  Although I had eaten nothing, something felt like it wanted to come up from my stomach. I swallowed hard.

  I scratched the back of my head. The scar felt numb. I looked at my nails. The blood was still there. I needed to have a shower. I needed to think.

  I dug my fingers into the soap. Gouged bits of it out. Then rubbed my fingernails against each palm. As the hot water soaked my body I checked myself for injuries from the night before. As I had thought, there were none. For some reason Neil hadn’t fought back at all. Cowardice? Or guilt?

  I had no idea what time he had come to bed after the fight. But he obviously had done. And I had no idea what had happened after that, whether I’d done something or whether he’d just woken up and left.

  I tried to think about where he would go. Abi’s and Oli’s was the obvious choice. Oli and he were good friends. And Abi?

  I put my head back under the shower, let the water run down my face.

  If he was in cahoots with Colin or the doctor, he might go there. Or even to my mum and dad’s. I could see him now, telling them what a shit I’d been. How I hurt him, and he’d done nothing to deserve it. Bastard.

  I made a mental list of the people I needed to call after my shower. Probably after putting the bloody bedclothes in the wash.

  With each phone call I made, I concentrated on how the person at the other end sounded rather than what they said.

  It was easy to get hold of Colin Connell, and a nightmare getting hold of Doctor Jones. But I did it. To me, they both sounded suspicious. But not so much that I felt Neil was there with one of them. I took solace in the fact that Colin and the doctor weren’t together too. If their conspiracy existed, they would now surely feel that it was falling apart and would probably gather together to try to sort things out. But they were apart. That was good.

  Mum and Dad hadn’t heard from Neil, or seen him, for ages. Not since the last time we’d gone over together. I didn’t tell them that I had attacked him, but I did say we’d had an argument.

  ‘If he rings,’ I said, ‘please can you ask him to call me.’

  I forced myself to eat lunch. A cheese and tomato roll. I gagged on it. It tasted so dry. I must have had at least three glasses of water, but they didn’t seem to help.

  After lunch I started thinking about smashing one of the car windows so I could get to my keys. I knew it would be a risk driving, but I needed to try and find him. I decided to give it a little longer.

  I went online to check the bank account. It didn’t show any money being taken out today, although I suspected there was always a delay before it showed up. There were six extra transactions from the day before though. All £10, all from the same cashpoint. Neil had been at it again yesterday. Whatever it was.

  I could barely breath. I had to get out of the house. Had to find him. I ran up and down the streets near where we lived. Looked into bushes and behind bus shelters. I felt like a dog owner searching for their lost beloved animal. I had to stop myself from calling out his name every few seconds.

  By late afternoon I had to give up and rest. The sky gloomed dark overhead and a chill swirled up. I sat down on a grassy bank in the local park to get my breath back. My head pounded and my eyes hurt every time I blinked. I must have been staring for hours.

  I put my hand on my stomach, trying to calm my breathing and the feeling of nausea which had been my constant companion all day. I checked my phone for the millionth time. No calls, no texts, no voicemails.

  I tried to put myself into Neil’s mind. What would I do? I would walk around and think. I would spend the day away, out of contact, trying to make the other person feel guilty. Then, eventually, I would go home.

  This thought energised me. I rang home on my mobile. No reply. The answer machine didn’t switch on. I must have forgotten to switch it on when I’d rushed out earlier that afternoon. I stood up and started trotting home. I knew that he would either be there already, sitting, waiting for me, or I would be there when he got home. Sitting, waiting for him.

  He wasn’t there. So I sat. And I waited. I must have fallen asleep, because I was woken by the phone ringing in the kitchen. I shook myself awake and dashed to answer the phone. The microwave clock blinked 9:05pm at me.

  ‘Hello? Neil?’ I said.

  When he spoke I could hear every word echoing. And an odd beeping sound, like a payphone, interrupted his speech. His voice was hoarse and low. I could hear tension in it. And possibly alcohol.

  ‘Christine,’ he said. ‘It’s me.’

  It sounded like a growl, rather than a greeting.

  ‘Neil, I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘Come home and we’ll sort this all out. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Christine, listen to me. I can’t come home.’

  My heart sank. I was about to plead with him, to tell him that we could work through it. But his next words left me cold. And in an instant I knew that I had been right all along.

  ‘Christine, I’m at the police station in town. I’ve been arrested.’

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