36
THEA
It was all over. I sat, slumped on the end of the sofa, in complete despair. The room was warm, the central heating on, but I felt cold, chilled to the bone, my fingers numb, my skin covered in goosebumps. Why hadn’t I kept my mouth shut? Even Nell was gone from me now, my beautiful daughter, the child I’d hurt so much, damaged so much. I remembered her face, twisted in grief as she begged Rupert to take her away from here, away from me, and I felt a physical pain, a spasm that shook my body. Why had I let these delusions of mine take hold, make me confront people who might have supported me, make me throw such ridiculous, terrible accusations at my friends, my family? What was wrong with me?
I was responsible for Zander’s death, nobody else. I had to be. Why couldn’t I just accept that? Well, I had now. Rupert’s reaction had finally opened my eyes. It was over. I’d had hope, these past few weeks – tiny tendrils of hope, frail but still there, still strong enough to hold me together. Now that hope was gone, and I could feel myself starting to fall apart. In a few weeks’ time I’d be heading to prison, and my whole life – my family, my home, my business – would be gone. Done. Changed for ever. There was no way out of this now, nobody else to talk to, nobody who could help me. I was alone.
I cried then. Cried for everything I’d lost, and everything I was about to lose.
And then I reached for the gin bottle.
37
NELL
‘Millie. Millie, I need to tell you something.’
We were sitting on the sofa, me and Millie, and Friends was on. I loved Friends, but today I couldn’t concentrate. It felt as if butterflies … no, something worse than butterflies, something with flappy wings, but heavier – what was heavier than a butterfly though? Birds? – were fluttering around in my tummy.
Out in the kitchen, Dad was banging around, and I was pretty sure I’d heard a bad word too. He was angry, and Mum was upset, and everything was horrible. So, so horrible. Things had been horrible for a long time now, and I knew that it couldn’t go on like this any longer. I needed to tell somebody something, something really, really important. Something really, really bad.
I knew I should have told somebody ages ago, but I’d been told not to, because it was a big secret, the biggest secret ever, and I was just … well, I was just really scared. At first, the scaredness (was scaredness a real word?) was that something really terrible would happen to me if I broke my promise not to tell, because bad things can happen if you tell a secret, can’t they?
And then I got less scared of that, but more scared of how angry Mum and Dad would be with me, for not saying anything for so long. And so I didn’t know who to tell. I’d tried to tell Millie once, a long time ago, but she hadn’t really believed me, and then I’d thought I shouldn’t have told her after all, so I pretended I’d been joking. And then I’d thought about telling that nice counsellor woman, Karen, but I started and then got scared and changed my mind again, and only sort of told her, but she didn’t really get it, and she was really kind and told me none of it was my fault, and that made me feel better for a while, because I thought about it really hard and I thought she was right, and it wasn’t my fault at all.
But then my head got all confused again, and I kept having really bad dreams, and now I just didn’t think I could keep it in anymore. I needed to tell somebody, and I thought that Dad might be the right person, and then he could tell Mum, or maybe we could go home and I could tell them both at the same time, and then … well, I didn’t know what would happen then. It might be an awful mistake, doing this. But I suddenly knew that I had to do it. And I had to do it now.
‘Millie?’
She turned away from the telly, where somebody – Joey? – was running around with a turkey stuck on his head, her face a big smile.
‘This is SO funny! What, Nell?’
‘Millie, I …’ The words seemed to be stuck in my throat. I did a little cough and tried again.
‘I need to go and tell Dad something. And Mum too. About the day Zan … Zander … you know, that day?’
She crumpled up her forehead.
‘What about it?’
‘Something. Something bad.’
I felt as if I was going to cry all of a sudden, and Millie must have noticed I looked a bit strange because she picked up my hand and held it.
‘What’s wrong, Nell? Shall I go and get your dad?’
I shook my head.
‘No, let’s go into the kitchen. I think I want him to take me back to Mum’s.’
‘But what about the theatre?’
I shook my head again, and now there was a big lump in my throat and I couldn’t say anything. I pulled my hand away from Millie’s and stood up, and she stood up too, her face all frowning.
‘OK, come on, let’s find your dad. You look awful, Nell, do you feel sick?’
I was already walking out of the room, down the little short hall and into the kitchen, and Millie followed me. Dad was sitting on one of the high stools, like the kind you see in a pub, and he was just staring at the breakfast bar, not doing anything. He looked up when we came in, and smiled, but it wasn’t a proper smile, it was just his lips moving upwards.
‘What’s up, girls? We don’t need to go for a few minutes yet.’
I took a step forward, and swallowed hard so the lump in my throat went down a bit.
‘Dad. I need to tell you … I need to tell you something. And Mummy. Can we go back, so I can tell you both at the same time?’
‘Huh?’ He looked really surprised all of a sudden, as if somebody had just put a big box in front of him and he’d opened it and it was full of lizards or something.
‘Don’t be silly, Nell. We’re off to Bath, remember? And you begged me to take you away from Mummy’s. You were in a terrible state. And now you want to go back? Don’t be ridiculous. Tell me whatever it is now, and tell Mum when you go home. It can’t be that important.’
‘It is. It’s really, really important.’ My voice sounded all squeaky, and my chest felt all funny, as if somebody was sitting on it. I looked sideways at Millie, and she looked at me, and then at Dad.
‘Nell told me it was something about Zander, Mr Ashfield,’ she said, and Dad stared at her for a few seconds and then looked back at me.
‘About Zander? Oh love, come here. It’s all going to be OK, you know? If Mummy does have to go to jail, I’ll look after you, everything will be fine …’
He got off his stool and started walking across the room, and I backed away, banging into Millie who was standing just behind me, and she moved backwards too, and I suddenly felt scared again, so scared that I started to feel dizzy, and then the words just started to bubble up inside me, like they were coming from my tummy and up through my chest and then into my mouth and I knew that I was going to say them, and then they all came out in a shout, the loudest shout I’d done for ages and ages, and I shouted:
‘MUMMY DIDN’T LEAVE ZANDER IN THE CAR IT WAS ME I PUT HIM BACK OUT THERE WHEN SHE WAS ASLEEP!’
And then all three of us were standing totally still, still like the stone statues in the park, and Daddy was staring at me with his mouth open, and a little gasp came out of Millie’s mouth, and then I spoke again, and this time all the shouting was gone and it was just a teeny little whisper.
‘But it wasn’t my idea. Somebody made me do it,’ I said.
38
THEA
I tipped the glass sideways, pouring the remains of my gin down the kitchen sink, then rinsed the glass out and sat it upside down on the draining board. I’d only drunk a few mouthfuls when Rupert had rung, sounding frantic, terrifying me. Had something happened to Nell, an accident? He told me everyone was fine, but something had happened and they were on their way back, and he’d explain everything when they got here, and then despite my barrage of questions and demands for him to tell me what was wrong now, he’d cut the call.
What the hell was going on? I could smell my own sweat, the acr
id smell of perspiration and fear, and knew I should take a shower, but I couldn’t make myself go upstairs. Instead, I wandered through the downstairs rooms, straightening cushions, tidying papers, walking to the dining room window every minute to see if his car was outside. When the doorbell finally rang I almost tripped over the coffee table in my rush to open it.
‘Rupert! Nell, are you all right? What’s wrong?’
I ushered them in, the three of them, and realized they all looked pale, shaken.
‘Come in here, into the lounge, sit down. What happened? Did you see an accident or something? Nell, darling, baby, come here. You look like you’re in shock.’
Rupert was still standing in the doorway, shaking his head.
‘No, nothing like that. Nell just needs to tell you something, Thea.’
I dragged my eyes from Nell, who was perched on the edge of the sofa next to Millie, both of them looking white and scared, and looked at my husband. He had a strange expression in his eyes, one I couldn’t work out.
‘What? Tell me what? Why didn’t you just phone? What’s going on, Rupert?’
In reply, he stepped further into the room and waved an arm at Nell.
‘This couldn’t be done over the phone. Nell, come here. Come here, and say it again. Tell Mummy what you just told me.’
Nell sat very still for a moment, then stood up slowly, and walked a few steps nearer to me. She looked up at Rupert with frightened eyes, and he smiled a tight smile, obviously trying to reassure her.
‘It’s OK, Nell. You’re not going to be in trouble, all right? But you need to tell Mummy. This is very, very serious. Tell her exactly what you just told me. Go on.’
What the hell? I looked at Rupert and then at Nell, waiting, my mind racing. What ‘very, very serious’ thing could my eight-year-old daughter possibly have to tell me?
‘Nell, darling … whatever it is, I promise I won’t be angry, OK? Come on, spill.’
I tried to keep my tone light, but the fear in her eyes was still there, and then she opened her mouth, took a little, gasping breath, and said something so bizarre, so unexpected, that I almost laughed.
‘I put Zander back in the car, Mummy. That day, when he died. You took him out, then you went to sleep, and I put him back in.’
Her voice was so quiet, so steady, and when she’d said the words she stood completely still for a few seconds, looking at me, then turned away and walked slowly back to the sofa, where she sat down again next to Millie.
‘What?’ There was a tremor in my voice, halfway between a giggle and a sob.
‘What did you say? Rupert, what’s …?’
He was looking at Nell, that weird look still in his eyes, and then he turned to me.
‘That’s what she said to me too. At the flat. Thea, I just don’t know. I don’t know why she’s saying it, or if it’s true, and if it is true, why on earth … but she said something else too. She said she did it, but that somebody made her do it.’
A chill ran down my back. Somebody … somebody what? I turned to Nell again.
‘Nell … why? Who? What are you saying? You would never do that, not to Zander. Why would you say something like that?’
She was staring at the floor now, motionless as if in a trance, ignoring me, but Millie’s eyes were darting between me and Rupert.
‘Mrs Ashfield – I think she’s telling the truth. She said something to me once, about doing it, about someone making her do it, but then she said she was joking; but I was worried, so I told somebody about what she’d said, and they said it wasn’t true, and that I should forget about it … but now, I think maybe it was true …’
‘JESUS!’
Rupert crossed the room suddenly, standing next to me, the two of us shoulder to shoulder now, the girls perched on the sofa in front of us.
‘JESUS,’ he said again. ‘Jesus Christ, Millie! Who, for fuck’s sake? Who made her do it? And who did you tell, and why didn’t they tell us? Who the fuck are these people you’re talking about?’
‘Rupert.’ I began to admonish him for swearing and then wondered why on earth it mattered right now. This couldn’t be real, after all. Could it? Could this possibly be happening? Was this conversation actually taking place, or was this some sort of dream?
Millie had started to cry, a fat tear running down her pale face.
‘I don’t know who made her do it. I—’
‘AAARGH.’ Rupert made an angry, strangled kind of noise, and I put a hand on his arm.
‘Let me,’ I said quietly.
‘Thea, I just …’ He started to speak then shook his head.
‘It’s OK.’ Why did I feel so calm, suddenly? I walked to the sofa and crouched down, putting my right hand on Millie’s knee and my left on Nell’s. Nell jumped slightly, as if she’d just woken up, and her eyes were wet now, too, and I leaned forward and spoke very softly, looking from one tearful face to another.
‘OK, I think we all know how serious this is now, don’t we? So what’s going to happen, girls, is that you’re going to tell us everything. You’re going to tell us the truth about what happened, you both are. And you’re going to start now. Go.’
39
ANNABELLE
I wasn’t quite sure why I wasn’t crying. Instead, a sort of numbness had crept over me, seeming to freeze any emotion that might be trying to surface. I felt, in fact, very relaxed – unnaturally so, for someone who was always as anxious as I was. It was weird, very weird, and I didn’t really know how to deal with it. I knew, in my head, that I should be reacting in some intense way right now – screaming, sobbing, howling, shouting – but I just wasn’t, and I didn’t know why. Maybe I was in shock? I mean, actual, medical shock? After all, my husband had just told me that he’d fathered a child with another woman. Was that sort of bad news enough, though, to send a human body into actual shock?
I turned to look at my husband – my cheating, scumbag of a husband, I thought now, calmly – who was slumped at the kitchen table, head in his hands, then returned my gaze to the garden, where Flora, wanting to give us some alone time, had just returned from a run and was leaning against a wall, balancing on one leg and using a small stick to poke the mud off the sole of the trainer on the opposite foot. Flora, who had probably known about this all this time, and who had never told me. I would talk to her about it later, but I began to wonder, casually tossing the thoughts around my brain, about how I was going to tell the children that I was highly likely to be sacking my assistant, and that their parents’ marriage was over, that their dad had come home from dropping Millie off at Nell’s this afternoon and blown our world apart.
Because our marriage was over, wasn’t it, now? Or did women actually stay married to men who did things like this? Did they? Did they forgive husbands who slept with the mothers of their daughters’ friends, and impregnated them? Impregnated. What a strange word that was—
‘AAAAGH! NO, NO, NO!’
I jumped violently at the anguished, terrified scream.
‘Sienna?’ It was coming from the lounge, and before I could think I was running, aware that Greg was on his feet too and following me.
‘STOP IT! OLIVER, STOP IT!’
Sienna was still screaming, and as I reached the door to the lounge and shoved it open, gripped by a sudden dreadful fear, I heard Oliver bellowing back at his sister.
‘SHUT UP! SHUT UP, YOU STUPID LITTLE BITCH.’
‘Oliver!’
‘What the f …?’
Greg and I spoke at the same time, and the fear intensified as I tried to take in the scene in my living room. Oliver was standing on the sofa, Sienna clawing at his legs, sobbing hysterically. In my son’s left hand was Olaf, the little kitten, wriggling and mewling, the fur around its neck streaked with red. And in Oliver’s right hand, a kitchen knife, the bloodstreaked blade angled towards the animal’s throat.
‘OLIVER!’ There was a roar from Greg as he flung himself at our son, twisting his arm violently behind his back
, making Oliver scream with pain, the knife falling onto the sofa cushion and then, as if in slow motion, sliding to the floor, leaving smudges of blood where it had been, and then Olaf was on the floor too, mewing piteously.
I ran to Sienna, pulling her into my arms, dragging her onto the other end of the sofa, then reached for the kitten too, scooping him up, fingers probing the wound at his throat. It was bleeding, but not a lot, and I snuggled him into the crook of my arm, stroking his trembling body gently, muttering soothing nonsense. I’d have to get him to the vet, but he’d live. But what on earth?
‘Oliver!’ Even I could hear the fear in my voice as I turned to look at my son. Across the room, a puce-faced Greg was standing over Oliver, who was crouched on the floor now, rubbing his shoulder and rocking backwards and forwards, words spilling from him in a low, shaky monotone.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry … I didn’t mean to do it, she just makes me so angry … I’m so sorry, I know that wasn’t right, I don’t even remember getting the knife, is he OK, Olaf, is he dead, Mum?’
‘He’s not dead. He’ll be OK. Maybe a few stitches. But Oliver … however irritating you may find your little sister, there’s no excuse … I mean I just can’t believe …’
Still cradling the kitten and clutching a sobbing Sienna to me, I stared at my son, suddenly remembering Hamish again, knowing without any doubt now that my worst fears had been realized.
‘Olly … you killed Hamish, didn’t you?’
The memory of the cat’s mutilated body flashed into my mind, and I suddenly felt sick. Greg, who’d been staring at me, a horrified look on his face, turned back to our son.
‘Holy shit, Olly. Did you? Oh CHRIST.’
Oliver was nodding, tears streaking his cheeks now.
‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—’
BRRRRING.
In his pocket, Greg’s mobile phone had started ringing. Cursing, he pulled it out, not looking at the screen, and put it to his ear.
Am I Guilty? Page 24