by Mark Ayre
There were tears in his eyes. But using the mirror, he could tell the nose was at least back in place. He pressed it again, winced, then wiped the tears with a hand that was also stained with blood.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get inside. Give me a few hours sleep, then I’ll drop you at the hotel and collect Danny. Then we can move on with our lives.”
Stepping from the car, Abbie looked to the house. A nice place. Nothing special but a decent first home for a young couple looking to start their lives together. Baby on the way. Eddie had it all. Abbie truly wished she could leave him to get on with his life.
He had no idea how much danger he was in.
“What did your brother do? Why does Francis want him?”
Locking the car, Eddie shook his head. “No. We’re not talking about this. Our involvement is all but over. I don’t care how you know Francis or what your issue with him is. I only care about my brother, and I’m dealing with that.”
Abbie wanted to push, but her relationship with Eddie was at a delicate stage. She needed his trust, and frustration could snap that like kindling. Best bet was to go along with what he wanted and hope for a chance to win him around after a few hours sleep.
As they approached the door, Eddie removed his keys. Arriving at the stoop, he looked again at her hoody.
“Don’t suppose you’re carrying a surprising amount of weight under that top, are you?”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s just Jess,” he said. “That hoody doesn’t give anything away, so the tendency is to imagine you’re hiding a model’s body beneath all that warmth.”
Eddie’s eyes held on the hoody a little too long for Abbie’s liking. She began to wonder about his imagination and where it might be taking him.
Pointing to the keyhole of the front door, she said, “Why don’t you focus on the task in hand.”
A beat, then he turned. “Yes, right, of course.”
With extreme caution, he opened the door. It was almost soundless. Turning back before he crossed the threshold into the house, he whispered to Abbie.
“Follow me upstairs. I’ll take you straight to the spare room. And be silent. I’ll get you set up, then wash my face. Jess doesn’t need to know anything until the morning. Got it?”
Abbie nodded. Though she didn’t particularly enjoy being managed, she was willing to do as he asked for the time being.
Eddie stepped into the house, and Abbie followed. The front door opened straight into the living room. The room was dim, lit only by a lamp on a coffee table. The coffee table was next to a comfortable looking sofa, and on that sofa sat a woman Abbie could only assume was Jess.
“Ed,” she said, rising. “What have you been? What happened to your face?”
She paused, looked over Ed’s shoulder, pointed a finger at Abbie as her voice raised an octave.
“And who the hell is this?”
Five
It took some time for Eddie to calm his wife. At first, it seemed she would only become more and more worked up until she was ready to run into the kitchen, grab the sharpest blade she could find, and start hacking people up.
Everything changed when her agitation reached a peak, and she took two storming steps towards Abbie with her arm outstretched. Abbie, who had stayed out of the conversation and was trying not to look at Jess’ bump, retreated a step and almost fell out of the still-open front door.
Then Jess bent double and wheezed with pain.
In a shot, Eddie was across the room, his arm around his wife, leaning down to put his head beside hers.
“Baby, baby, are you okay? Is little one okay?”
Abbie closed her eyes. Could hear the baby’s cries in the distance and had to take deep breaths to combat the ghostly sounds.
The front door was still open. As Eddie directed his wife to the sofa, Abbie had to fight the urge to bolt into the street, into the night, and away from this town. Not an option. Summoning all the strength she could muster, Abbie took the door and pushed it closed.
Jess was back on the sofa, Eddie at her side. She had a hand on her belly and was taking deep breaths. He put a hand over hers, but she knocked him away.
“I’m fine, idiot,” she snapped. “Baby’s kicking, and I overexerted myself trying to reach your little slut of a mistress.”
“She’s not my mistress.”
“Oh, whatever, Edward.”
“Not a slut, either,” Abbie added, then took a step back when they both shot daggers her way. “Don’t worry, you weren’t to know. Just an FYI.”
“Danny did this?” Jess said, gesturing to Eddie’s face. She got a nod in response. “That shit. Why do you let him keep taking? You bail him out time and again, and for what? A bloody nose and a pissed off pregnant wife. Where is he now?”
Eddie glanced at his wife’s round tummy. Maybe he feared she would, upon discovering Danny’s location, go give Eddie’s little brother a piece of her mind. In doing so, she could easily do herself, and the baby, a mischief.
From her tummy, he looked to her eyes. There was no saying no to anger like that.
“He wanted to go home, but it’s not safe. Abbie saw us fighting and stopped Danny kicking in my skull. She’s letting him use her hotel room. I said she could stay in our spare.”
“Abbie sounds like a saint,” said Jess, looking to the subject of her sentence as she spoke.
When attacked, verbally or physically, directly or via passive-aggressive sarcasm, Abbie was used to reacting, to fighting back. Because she needed Eddie’s trust and because she didn’t feel quite herself, she gave Jess a pass.
There was a silence. Then Jess shook her head and pinched her husband’s arm.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” she asked.
“What?”
“The spare bed isn’t going to make itself. And I’m sure our guest would like to sleep at some point tonight.”
Jess put a little too much emphasis on the word sleep. Eddie looked uncomfortable.
“Sweetie, you know I’m not sleeping with her. I mean for God’s sake, I wouldn’t—“
“Bring her here? Yes, even you’re not that stupid.”
“Right, but I wouldn’t—“
“Just go and make the bed, Eddie.”
Before Eddie could say anything further, Jess had gripped his shoulder and shoved, pushing herself to feet and making her husband wince. Once she was up, Jess turned and pointed to the stairs. Eddie still looked unsure.
“Go on,” she said. “I’ll make our guest a drink. Just wash up before you start, won’t you? I’m sure Abbie doesn’t want to sleep on sheets caked in blood.”
Jess turned away, making it clear the conversation was over. At least on this topic. At least for now. She turned to Abbie and gestured through an arch to the kitchen/diner.
“Shall we?”
“I bet it’s cold out there. Water won’t cut it. How about hot chocolate? I love a hot chocolate on a cold evening.”
Abbie would have liked a whiskey. As Jess held up a purple container of chocolate powder, she forced a smile and said, “Sounds nice.”
The kitchen/diner was a decent size. An island separated the two with a basic wooden table on one side and the kitchen appliances on the other. Abbie wanted to sit, but Jess hadn’t offered a seat, so she instead passed the island and stood out of the way in the kitchen, by the sink.
She said, “I want you to know I have no interest in your husband.” This wasn’t strictly true. Abbie had a great interest in Eddie. Just not a sexual one. For now, that was all that mattered.
Jess did a half-turn, frowned as though unsure what Abbie was saying, then turned back to the hot chocolate with a laugh and a wave.
“No, of course not. And if you were having an affair, Ed would never bring you here while I was home. He was right about that. Bound to happen eventually, I suppose.”
Opening the fridge, Jess withdrew the milk and poured some into a pan. She placed the pan on the hob, turned on the flame, an
d went to the cupboard to grab a couple of mugs.
“It’s the baby,” she said, returning to the stove. “It’s in your womb, kicking your bladder and your kidneys and whatever else, but it also takes over your mind. Like a parasite. Which I suppose is technically what it is. It makes you crazy, pulls your emotions this way and that. Makes you paranoid. I never would have reacted to your arrival like that pre-pregnancy. I promise. What did I call you? A skank?”
“A slut,” correct Abbie.
“Oh, that’s awful, isn’t it?” said Jess, as though someone else had delivered the slur. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Duck’s back,” said Abbie.
“What? Oh, like water off a. Clever.”
Abbie wasn’t sure it was clever but didn’t pass comment. The milk began bubbling in the pan. Jess poured powdered chocolate into the mugs then killed the hob’s flame. With swiftness but care, she poured the milk into the mugs, then turned to Abbie, twisting the pan so the end of the handle was exposed.
“Put that in the sink, would you?”
As Abbie performed the task, Jess said, “I still don’t trust you, mind.”
Releasing the pan, Abbie turned back to Jess. “Nor would I expect you to.”
“Course not,” Jess said, removing a teaspoon from a drawer and stirring the first cup of steaming chocolate. “What kind of woman puts herself between two fighting men she doesn’t know?”
“But if I were a man it would be okay?”
Jess rolled her eyes, took the teaspoon from the first mug and stirred the second.
“Forget the genders then. Isn’t it odd for one person to step between two fighting strangers? They might have had knives or guns. They might have turned on you.”
“One of them did.”
Jess chuckled. A dark, humourless chuckle. “Danny. A bad egg. If you’d met in better circumstances, he’d have charmed you. He’s fun, on the surface. But dangerous. Chasing excitement, no matter the cost. Now he’s in trouble again: big surprise. He’s nothing like his brother. Thank God.”
The teaspoon continued to rattle around the cup. Jess seemed to have been stirring for several minutes. At last, she noticed what she was doing and stopped.
“Where was I?”
“You were explaining how you didn’t trust me because I interrupted a fight between two strangers.”
“Right. Then offered one of those strangers your room for the night while accepting an invitation to come home with the other. To sleep in the spare room.”
“I appreciate this is an imposition.”
“That isn’t what I said. I...” Jess stopped, unsure where to take her point. To buy time, she passed one of the mugs of hot chocolate to Abbie, then said, “Should I trust you?”
Abbie could smell the drink in her hand. Sweet enough to make her feel ill, and she hadn’t even sipped yet. Jess clasped her drink in both hands and rested the mug on her bump. Abbie wished she couldn’t see that rounded stomach.
“I’m trustworthy,” she said. “But you have no reason to trust me. I accept that.”
“But you’re in my house. You’re to sleep here. So give me a reason.”
A difficult question. The truth would make Abbie look insane, and what lie could explain her actions in a way that earned Jess’ trust off the bat? There was none. Which meant there was only one answer.
“I can’t.”
“You can’t?”
“Haven’t you said it yourself? My actions are highly suspicious. I could tell you I rushed to intervene in your husband’s fight because I wanted to ensure no one got hurt. I offered Danny my room because he was in danger and needed somewhere to hide. I felt it would not rest easy on my conscience if I let him go home only to read in the paper or see in the news tomorrow that he had been murdered. But why should you believe that? I’m a stranger. And we live in a suspicious, shady world. Your husband doesn’t trust me. He fears I wish his brother ill. That’s why I’m here. He wants to keep an eye on me.”
“I bet he does,” said Jess. The comment was pointed. Abbie ignored it.
“If you want me to leave, I will. No problem. This is your house, and besides, don’t expectant mothers always get their way?”
Jess chuckled again, and there was a little humour this time. She lifted her mug and looked at the bump beneath as if checking it was still there.
“Speaking of,” she said. “I’ve been standing more than thirty seconds, and so long as I’m lugging this kid around, that means my feet are about to drop off. Let’s go back to the living room.”
Abbie led the way. Because she was able to walk rather than waddle, she arrived fifteen seconds earlier than did Jess. She stood beside but did not sit on the sofa. She turned as Jess entered the room, and once more, the bump stole her gaze.
Jess stopped before reaching the sofa, held her bump, and puffed out air. “It really is a nightmare, this pregnancy thing. You’re a mother, right?”
Abbie’s breath caught. The baby’s cries were louder than ever. She closed her eyes and took a breath. When she opened them, Jess was staring.
“No,” Abbie said. “Not a mother. Why’d you ask?”
Nodding to Abbie’s stomach, Jess spoke in a shaky voice. “My mother said she never did that before she fell pregnant. Been a habit ever since.” Her face had fallen. Realisation was settling. “Abbie, I’m so sorry.”
Abbie looked to her stomach and found her hand resting there again. She whipped it away and blinked twice.
Tears. Crap.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” she said. She looked at the full mug of chocolate, still in her hands, and still, it made her want to be sick. Even more so now. “You were right. I shouldn’t have come. I’ll leave.”
“No, please.” Jess outstretched a hand, releasing her bump, then pulled it back. She nodded to the sofa. “Come on. Let’s sit.”
After a few more pained steps, Jess fell into the same seat she’d occupied when Eddie and Abbie had arrived. The furthermost right cushion of the three-seat sofa. She patted the middle cushion, but Abbie took the one on the far left. Light-headed and nauseous already, she was afraid to get any closer to that bump.
After a minute or so, Jess said, “This is mine and Ed’s second.”
Abbie looked over to see Jess massaging her stomach. On the mantlepiece, there were two photographs. Another by the telly and a fourth on the coffee table at Abbie’s end of the sofa. Each photo showed only Eddie and Jess. Happy, smiling faces. Following Jess’ comments, Abbie read plenty into those photos.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“We started trying almost two years ago,” said Jess. “Fell pregnant immediately, and I was over the moon. Couldn’t wait to tell people. But Ed, sensible as ever, begged me to wait. At least until we hit three months, he said. Leave it until then, and we’ll tell the world.”
While she spoke, Jess absent-mindedly massaged her stomach. Her hand moved in small but rapid circles as she stared across the room and relived her story.
“We were three days from three months when it happened,” Jess said. “There was nothing in particular. I didn’t fall down the stairs or anything. I was at my desk, at work, chatting with my colleagues. All of a sudden, there was cramp. I rushed to the toilet, and there was blood. I went to the hospital and—” She blew out. Puffed air. “That was it. Just like that.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” said Abbie. Words of consolation that meant nothing. But she’d never meant any words of consolation more.
“Thank you,” said Jess. Still circling her bump. “And loss is right, isn’t it? I told myself, after we left the hospital, it should be okay. I’m pro-choice. Had I got pregnant a couple of years before, when I wasn’t ready, I might have aborted, and that would have been okay. So this should be too. Should be, but it wasn’t. Because, because...”
“That was your child,” said Abbie. “I get it.”
Jess looked across the sofa. Abbie looked back.
“I know
you do,” said Jess. “And I’m sorry for your loss, too.”
Abbie shrugged. Or tried to. Someone seemed to have encased her upper body in concrete.
“Long time ago,” she managed to say.
“And I bet it still hurts like hell,” said Jess.
Wasn’t that the truth? And as ever, Abbie couldn’t face it. The memories were always there but usually in the background. A nagging presence. Nothing else. Now they threatened to drown her.
Breaking above water, she stood.
“I should go.”
“You’re not going anywhere. It’s late. You’re tired. Besides, Ed’s already made up the bed. Don’t make me tell him it was for nothing.
On her feet, facing away from Jess, Abbie closed her eyes, rubbed them with the back of her hand. Took a deep breath to forestall any further waterworks.
“I’m not going to talk about what happened,” she said.
“And that’s fine. Of course. As long as you know you could, if you wanted to.”
Here it was. After assuming there was no way to easily earn Jess’ trust on night one, Abbie had stumbled upon the answer. How she wished she hadn’t. She’d take mistrust over companionship that came at the cost of her reliving those awful memories any day.
Before the weight of her grief became unbearable, Abbie turned back to Jess.
“If I’m to take you up on this offer of a room for the night, I must first make a confession.”
Jess tilted her head. “Oh?”
Sighing, Abbie looked into her mug, then offered it to Jess.
“I just can’t stand hot chocolate.”
The spare room was also the baby’s room. Neutral walls, a white cot fitted with a brand new mattress and sheet, a child-sized wardrobe, and a chest of drawers topped with a rim and changing mat. To the side of the mat was another table atop which was a nappy and wipes filled box. In one corner of the room, another box contained an assortment of toys, most of which Abbie guessed had been gifted by friends and family rather than bought by the parents-to-be. In front of the box, guarding it, was a teddy with beady black eyes and a beaming smile. The smile reminded Abbie of Bobby, the eyes of Ronson.