Night By Night

by Jack Jordan

  ‘Come on,’ the man in the suit said.

  I met his eyes, confused by the look in them, as though he had seen all this before.

  I climbed the rest of the stairs on shaking legs and fumbled with my keys at the door of the flat, the male officer breathing heavily behind me.

  I opened the door and let them in, and it was only having left the apartment that I could smell the decay of it when I returned. Stale sweat stained the air, the musk of damp from the constant state of darkness clinging to every fabric and surface. The damage from the leak had been put right, and I had scrubbed the faeces from the walls, but I could still smell it in the small space, the lingering scent of him.

  ‘He was here,’ I said quickly, turning to look at them.

  The female officer finally entered, shutting the door behind her. The man in the suit had crossed the room while my back was turned, and opened the blinds, the morning light slicing through the dust in the air. I squinted against the glare.

  ‘He was here,’ I repeated. ‘I woke up and. . . and. . .’ I was stammering, couldn’t think clearly. I shook my head. ‘He-he-he was at the foot of my bed.’

  ‘Why don’t we all sit down,’ said the man in the suit. He perched on the edge of the sofa, as though he didn’t want to spoil his clothes on the fabric. The female officer sat beside him, the male officer remained on his feet. I sat down in the chair opposite them and jittered my leg, unable to stop myself from moving. The female officer looked at me intently.

  ‘Finn, you remember us, don’t you?’ she said.

  ‘What?’

  I had seen so many different police personnel that each of them became the same, a blur of high-vis jackets and strange, shared glances. Perhaps I had met them.

  They glanced at the man in the suit, who nodded.

  ‘Finn, my name is Dr Thew. I’m the on-call psychologist for cases such as these.’

  Cases such as these, I remember thinking, unable to understand why a psychologist would be needed for a call-out about an intrusion.

  ‘We’re concerned,’ the man said. He kept on speaking but I tuned in and out, unable to believe the words coming from his mouth. Paranoid. Psychosis. Wasting police time. A place you could go to get help. It was only when he stopped speaking and I felt the heat of their glares on me, waiting for me to respond, that his words sank in.

  ‘You. . . you think I’m lying?’

  ‘Finn. . .’ This was the female officer.

  ‘Get out.’

  ‘Mr Matthews, we’ve had complaints from your neighbours.

  We—’

  ‘Get out!’

  They all stared for a moment, meeting each others’ eyes, and then back to me. I rose on numb legs and strode to the door, opened it for them.

  ‘I thought. . . I thought you were on my side,’ I said as they stood and made their way over.

  ‘We are on your side, Finn,’ the shrink said. ‘All we want to do is help you.’

  They left in single file. I stayed there, listening to the descent of their footsteps, the front door opening and shutting. I closed my own door and returned to bed.

  They thought I was crazy, that I was making it all up. Through it all, I had thought I had their help, and was keeping myself going until they got him and stopped him for good. But it was then that it hit me. I didn’t have their help at all. I was on my own, always had been, except for him.

  It was just us now, me and him locked in some vile game, a game he was set to win.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Rose stepped inside the house and shut the door behind her with an unintentional bang that made her wince. She slumped against it and closed her eyes, quivering from the cold. The rain had plastered her clothes and hair to her skin, and her thoughts seemed diluted, as though it had seeped in through her skin and filled her skull. Each move she made felt disjointed and delayed. Her head hadn’t stopped spinning since seeing her face plastered all over town. Exhaustion and stress had finally caught up with her, and it was as though she was losing herself, unable to think or act straight.

  When she opened her eyes again, her gaze spun, failing to focus on any one thing, before falling on the suitcases resting against the wall. She was used to seeing Christian’s suitcase at the foot of stairs, but not Lily’s. She blinked furiously to check she was really seeing them, and that it wasn’t just a memory that had bled into the present, knocked from another part of her brain. She reached forward and touched the tag on Lily’s suitcase. They were definitely there.

  Christian stood in the doorway of the living room. She couldn’t be sure if he had just appeared, or had been standing there the whole time. The house had been cleaned up as though nothing had happened.

  ‘Rose, a moment please,’ he said, and stepped back out of sight.

  Her thoughts and emotions couldn’t connect, like crossed wires in her brain. She walked towards the doorway, focusing on each step, and stopped in her tracks.

  Christian. Lily. Heather. Dr Hunter. Adeline. They all stared at her, all but Lily, who sat with her arms crossed and her eyes on the floor. An empty chair was placed before them, like a seat before a jury.

  ‘Sit down, please, Rose,’ said Dr Hunter.

  She had lost all will to fight. She walked into the centre of the room and sat heavily in the chair. Rainwater dripped from her clothes and soaked into the carpet. A high-pitched squeal rang in her right ear. From where she sat, she could see their cars parked in the driveway on the other side of the window. She had walked right past them.

  ‘Rose,’ the doctor said. ‘We’re here today because we’re worried about you.’

  Adeline scoffed. ‘And for our own safety.’

  Heather shot her a look. ‘Adeline.’

  Rose’s eyes flitted from one to the other, each of them diverting their eyes, except for the doctor.

  ‘We would all like you to hear what we have to say about this. . . situation. Heather, why don’t you go first?’

  She nodded quickly and sat forward in her chair, choosing her words for a moment. Rose watched her eyes move left and right, before finally settling on hers.

  ‘Rose, we’re all worried about you. This thing you’re doing, this. . . investigation, it’s destroying you. I’ve known you for a long time and I’ve never seen you like this. You’ve lost weight. You’re still not sleeping. You’re acting oddly. It seems like you’ve lost a part of yourself, worse than before, before Vi—’

  ‘Are you sleeping with my husband?’

  The anger had risen the moment she’d seen Heather in the room. She had the audacity to enter her home and pity her, when she was helping to tear them all apart.

  Heather’s face fell slack. Christian sat straighter in his chair.

  ‘Of course not, I would never—’

  ‘You were alone together, right here. In my house. You went to the doctor’s house together.’

  ‘To talk about how best to help you,’ Heather said. ‘We’re all very worried. I promise you, Rose, I am not sleeping with your husband.’

  ‘Well, at least she admits she was at your house, doctor,’ put in Adeline. ‘Not that it would matter if she denied it – I saw her with my own two eyes.’

  ‘Why are you here?’ Rose spat.

  Adeline had the nerve to laugh.

  ‘The doctor invited me, probably in the hope that seeing you break down will stop me pressing charges for you stalking our street.’

  Christian sat forward. ‘Adeline. . .’

  ‘One at a time please,’ said the doctor.

  ‘Then I’ll take my turn.’ Adeline fixed her eyes on Rose. ‘Unlike everyone else, I don’t care what you do with your life, but I do care that you’re stalking around in the dark, right outside my home where my children sleep.’

  ‘Adeline. . .’ Heather warned.

  ‘What? It’s the truth, and if it happens again, I’ll call the police.’

  ‘Enough,’ Christian said.

  ‘Why don’t you speak, Christian?�
�� suggested the doctor.

  Christian sighed into his lap, wrung his hands together.

  ‘You said you would stop this,’ he said. ‘You promised you would stop and yet here you are, staggering in like you’re drunk, soaked through from the rain. You look. . .’

  He looked away, as if the sight of her was too much.

  ‘I trusted you when you said you would stop this, and you broke that trust. The police have asked you to stop. Dr Hunter has asked you to stop. I have asked you to stop. But you won’t listen. You’re obsessed with finding a man you’ve never met, a man you’re willing to throw your life away for. I’m worried that one day I’ll come home to find you’ve been arrested, or harm will have come to Lily because of your actions. I can’t risk that, Rose. So, I will ask you one more time: please stop this.’

  The room fell silent but for the sound of her heart beating in her ears.

  ‘Thank you for your honesty, Christian,’ said the doctor. ‘Lily, why don’t you speak now?’

  Lily seemed to have shrunk in her chair, as though she wished she was anywhere but here, sitting before her mother.

  ‘Do you really want to know why I hate you?’ Lily asked.

  Rose flinched. Tears fell but she didn’t notice them, just the searing hate in Lily’s eyes.

  ‘You grieve for the daughter you lost, my sister – the sister you killed. But you only have one person to grieve for. I didn’t just lose my sister that day, I lost my mother too.’

  She spoke with such force that spit flew from her mouth with her words. Lily didn’t sound like a child any more, but a grown woman.

  ‘It’s not just because of what you did. . .’ She looked away and the venom dissolved. She sank back in her chair, bit her lip to stop herself from crying, the child in her creeping back. ‘It’s because of what you said.’

  ‘What did I say?’ Rose asked in barely a whisper.

  ‘You said you’d saved the wrong one. You wished you’d saved Violet instead of me.’

  The air slammed from her lungs and she breathed out in a sob. She hadn’t thought the words – she had said them aloud. . . and Lily had heard her.

  ‘No. . .’

  Rose could feel the heat of the others watching them, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Lily’s.

  ‘I lay there in the mud, barely alive, and heard my own mum wish I was dead!’

  ‘No. . .’ Rose could barely speak through the sobs. Her whole body shook with them. Her throat was on fire.

  ‘I couldn’t grieve for Violet because I resented her. I hated that you loved her more. You stole my chance to miss her, and you stole my chance to love you, and I will never, ever forgive you for that.’

  ‘Lily, I’m. . . I’m so. . . sorry.’

  Rose covered her face with her hands, sounds escaping her like a wounded animal: whines, screeches. The room began to spin again.

  ‘You must stop this, Rose,’ the doctor said. ‘You’ve followed people to their homes, watched through windows. You’ve put your family and yourself in danger, and accused your husband and your friend of having an affair.’

  She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think of anything other than Lily. The tears wouldn’t stop coming. The pain was like a gunshot wound to her chest, ripped open, ribs broken, the cavity bare for all to see, watching as her heart broke.

  ‘Paranoia is a side effect of sleep deprivation. I know it’s difficult for you to see this for what it is, but paranoia can feel incredibly real; it can even make you act in destructive ways to prove your own point. It could explain the trashing of your home, your burnt bag, the sinister messages, as if from someone else. Without sleep, the brain works in ways that are difficult to understand. You’re not entirely at fault here.’

  She was too distraught to defend herself, to correct his lies. It was as though they had each shared a knife to cut at her tongue, passing it between them until Lily made the last cut and ripped the flesh from her mouth. But as the doctor spoke, her anger rose, the heat of it dissolving her tears and stifling her sobs. She lowered her hands. Lily had left the room. Rose shot a look at the window to see her getting into the passenger seat of Christian’s car and slamming the door behind her.

  ‘There is a place you can go, to get the rest and help you need.’

  ‘You want to lock me away.’

  ‘No, Rose. We want to help.’

  Christian was deathly pale. Heather was biting on her lip to stop herself from crying. Adeline had been stunned into silence. The doctor sat before her with a smug expression, his hands cupped neatly in his lap.

  ‘You think I’m mad? That I’m making all this up?’

  She snatched her bag from her shoulder and took the journal in her hand. She opened it at a random page and read a line.

  ‘My thoughts and dreams were filled with a reel of blood and murder, because I cannot think of another way this will end.’

  ‘Rose. . .’

  ‘You think I made that up? That this is my handwriting?’ She showed them the page, pointed at it with a shaking finger. ‘Speak to Shane Hughes if you don’t believe me. Speak to Anna, a detective at the police station. I’m not lying. I’m not mad. This man went missing and no one cares! Why don’t any of you care? Don’t you have hearts? Don’t you have any decency at all?’

  ‘You need help, Rose.’ Christian’s voice was hoarse.

  ‘No, Christian, Finn does.’

  He shook his head in disbelief, wiped a tear from his cheek.

  ‘We’re leaving, and we’re not coming back.’

  The day had finally come. She had waited years for this, almost hoped for it to end the torment, but it still didn’t feel real.

  Christian stood, wiping his palms on his trousers.

  ‘Goodbye, Rose.’

  He left the room until it was just the four of them listening to the wheels of the suitcases dragging against the floor in the hall and the click of the door as it shut behind him.

  ‘It’s time we all left, I think,’ the doctor said.

  Adeline was the first to go, without a single glance at Rose. The doctor followed. Heather hung back, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  ‘Rose, I. . .’

  ‘Heather,’ the doctor said behind Rose’s back. ‘We have tried our best. There is nothing more we can do.’

  Heather nodded, wiping her eyes as she left the room.

  Rose sat in the chair and listened to the final slam of the door.

  No, she thought suddenly. I can’t lose her.

  Still unsteady on her feet as though her skull was full of water, she rushed to the door. She opened it and squinted against the sun. When her eyes settled, she saw Rob making his way up the driveway.

  No. Not now.

  She looked at Christian, staring from Rob to her behind the steering wheel. Heather watched in wonder before getting inside her own car.

  ‘Rose. . .’ Rob said as he approached the steps. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Not now, Rob, please.’

  She broke, tears swimming down her cheeks.

  ‘What’s going on?’ He shot a look at Christian’s car as it pulled away. ‘Has he done something?’

  ‘No,’ she said, her tone sharp. ‘Now please, just go. I can’t do this right now.’ She watched the hurt take over his face.

  ‘All right,’ he nodded, jaw clenched, and turned to leave.

  ‘How do you know where I live?’

  He turned back. ‘I. . . you signed up to the newsletter, remember?’

  He was friends with Seb, Leech, Watts. He knew where she lived. She had let him into her life without really knowing him. She had trusted people because she couldn’t bear to be alone; she might have let one of her tormentors straight into her life.

  ‘I’m sorry, I thought we. . .’ He looked at her, shook his head. ‘I’m sorry.’

  The last of the cars turned out of the driveway. It was just the two of them. Rob turned towards the road and didn’t look back
.

  Rose watched him leave, and continued to stare out long after he’d gone. The moment she turned around and closed the door behind her, she would be alone again, the ring of silence waiting for her, ready to turn her mad.

  Too late, she thought. I already am.

  She walked inside and closed the door behind her.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Two days had passed since the intervention, but Rose’s tears were still as fresh, the pain searing like a new wound. Her scent was sour; saliva had dried to a paste on her tongue.

  It all made sense now. No wonder Lily hated her. She had heard her own mother wish her dead. Every time she thought of Lily confessing the secret she had kept for years, her heart broke again and again, fresh tears swelling in her eyes, sobbing herself into a light slumber, only to wake and remember it all over again. Her only sense of time was the sun in the sky and the smell of her scent spoiling with each hour.

  How could she possibly fix this? It was a wrong she could never put right. She couldn’t go back and unsay the words, couldn’t raise Violet from the dead. She had accepted losing Christian, had quietly resigned herself to the idea a long time ago, but she couldn’t let go of Lily.

  Before saying those fatal words, she had never admitted to herself that she had a favourite. It wasn’t that she had loved Violet more, but she had been allowed to love her more. Violet wanted her affection, whereas Lily had always been a daddy’s girl, a free spirit she couldn’t pin down, with a wilfulness that made it so much harder for Rose to exist on so little sleep. Violet was subdued, whereas Lily knew how to push her buttons. Did that mean she had a favourite? It didn’t matter now. Her own words had tarnished her relationship with her daughter for ever.

  She moved in the chair for the first time in what seemed like days and flinched from the burning pain in her bladder. She took her phone from her pocket and called the only person who could possibly understand.

  He picked up after three rings.

  ‘Rose,’ her father said. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you for days. Are you all right?’

  ‘I’ve lost her.’ Rose’s voice was hoarse from so long without speaking.