In Harm's Way

by Owen Mullen

  ‘I mean, go easy on her. Don’t lecture her, don’t scold her. Don’t make it about you. She’s in trouble. Probably doesn’t know how much. She looks up to you.’

  ‘Mackenzie doesn’t look up to anybody, that’s part of the problem.’

  He didn’t mince his words. ‘Well, you’re obviously not in her corner.’

  Adele’s reply was tart. ‘And you obviously are.’

  Her husband ignored the implication; he’d heard it before and worse. ‘All I’m saying is tread carefully. Judging somebody else’s marriage is never a good idea. At the end of the day all we know is what we see in public. But there are two sides to every story.’ Blair looked at his wife a moment longer than necessary. ‘Derek’s given us his. Doesn’t anybody care about Mackenzie’s?’

  Before Gavin could answer, Monica came back. Her abruptness took everyone by surprise.

  ‘You can eat at home. I want to go.’

  ‘Is Alice all right?’

  ‘She’s fine. That’s beside the point. Blair, could we have our coats?’

  Gavin spoke sharply to her. ‘Sit down, this is important.’ He turned to Blair and Adele.

  ‘Listen, there’s no point in you two falling out over this. The most disturbing part of it is this stalker. What do you make of it, Blair?’

  His brother-in-law drew a finger along the table. ‘Hard to say. Derek’s convinced the guy was waiting for her. And she knew him.’

  Adele almost lost her temper. ‘Of course she knew him. He waved to her.’

  Monica weighed in. If she was being forced to stay she was determined to speak her mind – the men weren’t getting it. ‘I agree with Adele. Derek’s right, he was waiting for her.’

  This was exactly what Adele wanted to hear. ‘Well said, Monica. Mackenzie was spoiled from the beginning and thinks she can do whatever she likes and to hell with everybody else. She’s involved with this guy, whoever he is. Derek saw her getting into a car with him?’

  Blair wasn’t having that. ‘We don’t know who she got into a car with and neither does Derek.’

  Adele threw her head back and laughed. ‘Men, you’re so gullible. She admitted it. We all heard her. No, I’m sorry but my sister’s nothing but a selfish, self-centred bitch.’

  Monica added her support. ‘She hasn’t come to see Alice in months. My sisters are round all the time, aren’t they, Gavin?’

  ‘They certainly are.’

  The sarcasm was undisguised.

  * * *

  When Derek got home Mackenzie was waiting for him in the lounge, still drinking. Where the hell was she getting it? Not the right time to start down that road. Her expression was set hard, her fingers drumming against the glass, smoke rising from the cigarette in her hand. He couldn’t avoid it. She wanted to fight and began where she’d left off earlier in the day. ‘I’m leaving.’

  ‘Oh, change the record, will you? We’ve heard it.’

  ‘You can’t stop me.’

  ‘Why would I? I want you to be happy. Clearly you’re not. Maybe it would be for the best.’

  She sneered. ‘As if you care about what’s best for me.’

  ‘I do, Mackenzie, I really do. I always have. Look, let’s not get into it again. It’ll keep ’til tomorrow.’

  ‘No it won’t. Why did you marry me?’

  ‘I love you, you know that.’

  ‘No, that’s a lie. You’ve never loved me. Admit it, at least.’

  Derek had come to the end. ‘Know what, Mackenzie? This whole thing is a bloody smokescreen. You’ve met somebody. You admit that.’

  Mackenzie goaded him. ‘Yes! Yes, there’s somebody else. Don’t pretend you care.’

  ‘Your friend from today I presume.’

  Her face twisted. ‘You’re a pathetic excuse for a man. I loathe you.’

  She threw her wine glass. It smashed against the wall. A shard rebounded and cut Derek underneath his left eye. Immediately, it started to bleed.

  ‘You stupid bitch, you could’ve blinded me.’

  She screamed ‘I wish I had. I really wish I had’ and threw herself at him. He caught hold of her wrists and held her. ‘Oh grow up you silly woman. Just grow up.’

  Mackenzie ran up the stairs with him shouting after her. ‘Don’t dare smoke in bed. I won’t allow you to burn the house down.’

  The door to one of the spare bedrooms slammed shut, a familiar sound these days. Derek touched his cheek, saw blood on his fingertips and fell into a chair, depressed. The fight had been the last straw. The marriage was over, anyone could see it.

  Day Two

  A barking dog or a car backfiring had woken her – Mackenzie wasn’t sure which – but part of her wished she’d died in her sleep. Her whole life was a mess.

  Daylight poured into the bedroom, harsh and unwelcome, and with it flashes from the dinner party: postcards from hell – the stupid disagreement with Monica about children, spilling the wine, and the row with Adele. Somewhere in there, more disturbing than the rest was a vision of her screaming at Derek, attacking him. Mackenzie buried her head under the bedclothes feeling as bad as she’d ever felt in her life. The hangover was awful, the shame even worse.

  All that mattered now was ending it.

  She turned onto her side, trailing trembling fingers on the floor, searching for her bag and the mobile inside – unless she’d managed to lose the damned thing. The effort made her head spin and when her hand found the strap, she closed her eyes in relief and fell back, breathless and clammy and waited for the nausea to pass.

  The number wasn’t in the directory, she’d memorised it. After a few seconds, a man answered and she lowered her voice. ‘Alec, it’s me. I need to speak to you.’

  Derek was standing outside the door. He’d assumed she would be sleeping it off. Suddenly, the two Paracetamol and the cup of coffee seemed foolish. The conversation – one-sided though it was – wasn’t hard to understand. They were meeting in an hour. “Same place as last time.”

  He turned and went back downstairs.

  In the room, Mackenzie’s heart raced. What had she done? She wasn’t a brave person. Already doubt was eating her; she wasn’t sure she could go through with it. Sooner or later she’d have to face Derek. Be honest with him. Or settle for what she’d done so many times before – admit she was in the wrong and ask him to forgive her – promise it wouldn’t happen again and endure the familiar lecture. He’d ignore her for days, she’d accept it as part of her punishment, and things would continue as they had. But in the deepest part of her Mackenzie knew it had gone beyond that.

  Since she was a child, at bedtime she’d folded her clothes over the back of a chair. This morning they were scattered all over the floor, signs of how drunk she’d been though her aching head and the emptiness in her stomach were all the proof needed. In the bathroom she turned on the shower and stayed under longer than usual. Then she dressed slowly and went down to face her husband.

  Derek didn’t lift his eyes when she came into the lounge. Something was different. He spoke with an unexpected gentleness harder to bear than his anger.

  ‘You should ring Adele and apologise.’ Said without a trace of disapproval.

  Mackenzie pulled on her coat. ‘I will. Later.’

  ‘Where’re you going?’ Asked casually, without interest.

  ‘Out. And so you know, I’ve come to a decision.’

  * * *

  So now he knew his name: Alec.

  However much she denied it, however much he wanted to disbelieve the evidence of his own eyes and ears, it was true. The day in town had never had the slightest chance of changing anything between them. Not while there was another man in the background.

  This morning of all mornings, after the fiasco she’d caused last night, when she should’ve been begging him to forgive her, the first thing Mackenzie had done was call this man. Alec…the name was enough to fill Derek Crawford with hate. And he wondered: once Alec had had her, did they lie together, naked, talkin
g about him? Laughing at how easily she’d fooled him, asking questions about their sex life while his fingers casually played with her nipple?

  Did she moan as it grew hard under his touch?

  Derek pictured it and knew it would.

  He balled his hand into a fist, put it to his mouth and bit down leaving bone-white indents on the knuckles. The images in his head tortured him, causing pain like he’d never known. Anger and jealousy were emotions any cuckolded husband would feel at a time like this. But he was shocked to discover another: lust. Like the day before in Buchanan Street: he’d wanted his wife, wanted to possess her, bring her to the climax of her life so she’d forget she’d ever seen her lover’s face or heard his name.

  Derek fought to get hold of himself. Forgiveness was out of the question. He’d never forgive what she’d done, he was certain of that much. The bitch had betrayed him, betrayed him with a man called Alec.

  He pulled on his jacket and went after her.

  Sixty yards ahead Mackenzie walked purposefully, her high-heels clacking on the pavement. Derek’s longer stride closed the gap between them until he saw her get into the blue Vectra. Everything he’d felt drained out of him – there was no more anger, no more lust – only a desperate emptiness and a deep sense of loss as the car with his wife inside drew away. He turned and went back.

  * * *

  When he reached the house he was close to crying. Rage was the emotion now. He slammed the door hard enough to make the windows rattle, resentment spilling out of him. Who the fuck did she think she was? Had she forgotten how much he’d given her? The ungrateful bitch didn’t remember he was the one who’d rescued her, saved her from herself, loved her when no one else – even her own family – gave a fuck about her. And this was the thanks he got.

  Derek thought about pouring himself a large whisky. No chance. They didn’t keep booze in the house. Mackenzie couldn’t be trusted not to finish the bottle. Just another example of how considerate he’d been with her many shortcomings.

  He shouted at the top of his voice. ‘You bastard! You bastard, Mackenzie!’

  So what if the neighbours heard? Fuck them as well. He lay on the couch, shaking with anger. After a while depression set in; he felt numb; useless. Looking round the lounge with its carefully-selected furniture he realised the house was too big and too quiet without her. His mind wandered, as it so often did now, to those early days – the good times – when everything had been wonderful.

  The options were clear: cut her off without a coin and see how she survived without him, or win her back.

  The shrill ring of the telephone brought him into the present. Reluctantly, he lifted the receiver and tried to sound his normal self. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Derek, it’s Adele. How’re things?’

  ‘Not good.’

  ‘She’s not still drinking, is she?’

  ‘I’m not sure. She’s not here. She’s gone out.’

  ‘Didn’t think she’d be in a fit state to go anywhere after her performance last night.’

  He blew a frustrated breath down the line. ‘Well, she has. She was fired-up and waiting for me when I got home. No idea where she’s getting it. We had a huge bust-up. The worst ever. And she admitted the affair again. This morning I heard her on her mobile arranging to meet somebody called Alec.’

  Mackenzie’s sister hesitated. ‘Is it him? Is it the man in Buchanan Street?’

  ‘Must be. She was whispering.’

  Derek stopped short of telling how he’d skulked on the street like a dog abandoned by its master, spying on the wife who’d chosen another over him, his sexual confusion and the impotence of rejection.

  Adele was sympathetic. Unlike Blair, she liked her brother-in-law and considered him too good for Mackenzie. ‘Oh, Derek, that’s terrible. I’ll speak to her. Get her to see sense. Time that lady heard a few home truths. Do you want me to come over?’

  ‘Too late for that. Told me she’d made a decision.’

  There was nothing to say and for a minute they didn’t speak. Finally, Adele said, ‘My sister’s a silly bitch but she isn’t well. Honestly, Derek, she isn’t. Mackenzie loves you, even if she’s got a funny way of showing it.’

  ‘I’d like to believe that, I really would. But it’s gone too far. Hoped I’d never have to say this: she isn’t the only one who can make a decision.’

  * * *

  Alec ordered mugs of tea from the man behind the counter and they sat at a table in the café, away from the window. For two hours they talked, her speaking, him listening. Her hands shook, her stomach turned. Unhappiness poured from her, and when he described how much better the future would be, Mackenzie was in tears.

  At the end of the conversation she was exhausted; saying it out loud had taken a toll on her. Before they went their separate ways he asked a question. ‘So, are we on?’

  She baulked. ‘Don’t know if I’m strong enough yet. I’d hate to disappoint you again.’

  He smiled. ‘I’ll take my chances.’

  She put her hand on his arm, trusting him. ‘Just give me a little longer. I’ll tell you when I’m ready. Let’s keep things as they are.’

  It wasn’t what he wanted to hear. ‘Okay, but we can’t go on like this. Sooner or later you have to make a choice.’

  Day Three

  Since Adele’s birthday party the atmosphere between them was worse than ever. Derek refused to even look at Mackenzie, blaming her and her alone for the breakdown of their marriage, not accepting they’d tried and failed to make each other happy. Getting out of the house was the right thing to do.

  When she put on her coat he’d pretended to read a newspaper. She knew he was dying to quiz her about where she was going. Not knowing would drive him crazy.

  In the fresh air with the sun on her face she felt free for the first time in years. For a moment Mackenzie considered calling Alec to let him know she was all right, then thought better of it – she’d see him soon enough. Besides, she needed time to adjust to the changes ahead of her, changes so huge that when she thought about them she felt faint.

  There was guilt, of course there was, because in many ways Derek was a good husband. She’d wanted for nothing – at least, nothing money could buy. When she wakened on her birthday there was always an expensive surprise waiting for her; a watch, a fur coat; one time a double-string of real pearls she’d admired in a shop window in Bond Street on a weekend in London. Mackenzie only had to show interest in something, and before she could stop him, Derek would have bought it.

  Plenty of women would trade places with her, happy to be treated like royalty. She was a queen, no question about it. But a queen to his king.

  Now she’d stopped drinking – the notion made her laugh. It had only been a day but it was the one thing Alec insisted on – so many things were clearer: alcohol had cut her off from her true self, become such a part of her life it was impossible to think of getting through a day without the stuff. Derek believed it was a habit, and like all habits – good or bad – with self-discipline it could be broken. Mackenzie had to account for every penny spent at the supermarket while he controlled how many glasses of wine she was allowed at dinner. For a time – a few weeks – it appeared he’d been successful. Then one evening he’d arrived home, found her unconscious on the couch and came face-to-face with an unacceptable fact: his wife was a drunk.

  How difficult that must have been for him.

  Mackenzie walked on the grass at the side of the road. Behind her buried in the traffic noise she heard male voices, though she wasn’t able to make out what they were saying. Thirty yards further on they were closer. Surely their bigger stride would take them past? She slowed to let them. When they didn’t, she quickened her step. It didn’t make sense. They should’ve overtaken her by now. Maybe they felt as uncomfortable as she did.

  But the voices were still there. Indistinct. Louder. In the middle of the afternoon there was no one around. She was alone.

  Suddenly, a pl
easant walk had become something else, something scary and sinister, and she was afraid. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her throat was dry. She broke into a run.

  A mocking laugh died in the air.

  Or did she imagine it?

  When she couldn’t run any further she stopped, panting and exhausted, too spooked to look round. At first, there was nothing. No footsteps. No conversation. She breathed a sigh of relief, glad Adele wasn’t there to witness her overreaction to what was probably the wind in the trees. The explanation was obvious and she almost blushed. She’d underestimated the effect of coming off booze. Added to the strain of her marriage her nerves were stretched to breaking point. That was it. A smile tugged the corners of her mouth. Christ, what an idiot.

  Then she heard it again. Closer.

  Mackenzie screwed up her courage and spun round. It wasn’t two men, it was one man, the one in the black coat from the supermarket, talking to himself.

  She stepped back and stumbled on the verge, almost falling under a passing car. The startled driver pulled into the middle of the road, nearly crashing into a van in the other lane. Both vehicles blasted their horns and raced on. She felt faint. For a moment she thought she was going to pass out. Nobody had believed her but they were wrong. It was him.

  He was real.

  He tilted his head and smiled. Mackenzie got to her feet and faced him. ‘Who are you? What do you want?’

  The man in the black coat stared unblinking and didn’t answer.

  Mackenzie screamed at him. ‘Who the hell are you?’

  Nothing except a slow smile.

  ‘Get away from me, d’you hear?’

  He didn’t move.

  She tried to hail a passing car. Then another. When that didn’t work, Mackenzie Crawford did the only thing left: she ran. And this time she didn’t stop.

  Day Four