Debbie laughed. ‘I bet the girls love that.’
Melissa smiled at the memory. ‘They adore it. They even set up a nail salon a few weeks ago. Grace made name badges and Lilly adopted the persona of “Sharon the Nail Technician”. She even did the cockney accent. Lewis was so embarrassed.’
Melissa felt another sob building in her chest.
‘Cry if you want to,’ Debbie said. ‘You’ve been through so much. I remember the way you were with Joel, so strong for him, so controlled. It’s good to let go sometimes, though.’
‘I did let go eventually, you know that.’
Debbie gently lifted Patrick’s arm to wipe his armpit, the sight of his dark hairs and the outline of his ribs making Melissa’s heart ache. ‘It happens to all full-time carers of kids like Joel,’ Debbie said. ‘There comes a time when you simply hit a wall of exhaustion and frustration. Yours came a lot later than others’.’
‘But if I’d held myself together and not given up being Joel’s full-time carer,’ Melissa said, ‘I’d have been there when Joel died. And if I’d been there . . .’
‘Now you listen to me,’ Debbie said, grasping Melissa’s hand and looking her in the eye. ‘That was completely out of your control. Just so happens you were taking a well-deserved break, no connection.’
‘But I was weak. I should have just sucked it up. I wasn’t the only mum in the world having to deal with a child with special needs. I shouldn’t have taken that break, it wasn’t fair on Patrick.’
‘It shouldn’t all be on the mother,’ Debbie said, face tense. ‘You needed that time. You had the twins to deal with too, remember? It’s not like Patrick took time off to help before he took the sabbatical.’
As Joel’s condition had deteriorated, placing more demands on Melissa, it had got too much for her. So Patrick suggested he take a year’s sabbatical from work so he could take over being Joel’s carer and Melissa could retrain as a physio, something she’d wanted to do for a while after being inspired by the physios who helped Joel.
‘I used to watch you and wonder how you did it,’ Debbie continued. ‘In fact, I remember when Rosemary told me you were having twins. Such a shock!’
Melissa thought back to that time. She hadn’t even wanted another baby; her hands were full enough as it was with Joel. But Patrick had been desperate for another child – a normal child, as he’d put it once. In the end, she’d relented, then when she saw the ultrasound and heard those two heartbeats, her heart had sunk. How would she cope looking after newborn twins while caring for Joel too?
Well, she didn’t cope, did she? Patrick had to take over.
Debbie dipped her finger in some cream and rubbed it roughly over Patrick’s elbows. ‘It’s not fair that you, of all people, are going through this now.’
‘Tragedy seems to have a habit of following me, doesn’t it? Not just Joel, but my mum too. Maybe it’s the Quail genes.’
Debbie gave her a sharp look. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Life is just a roller coaster of shit and we need to hold on tight as we ride it. Anyway, all that stuff about genes is rubbish. Honestly, the number of times I heard Rosemary and Bill bang on about the perfect Byatt bloodline, I could have slapped them. Irony is, it’s the Byatts who are weak,’ Debbie said. ‘Patrick’s always been a bit . . . fragile.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, you know, he struggled when Joel was born, didn’t he? You had to do everything for the boy.’
‘So did Patrick when he took his year off.’
Debbie raised an eyebrow. ‘He left Joel with his parents most of the time while you were working.’
‘He didn’t!’
‘He did, darling,’ Debbie said. ‘I used to see him drop Joel off before heading off to the pub.’
Melissa’s face flushed with embarrassment.
‘Look,’ Debbie said with a sigh, ‘I heard about what Graham Cane said.’
‘Is it true?’ Melissa asked, hardly wanting to know the truth.
Debbie looked at Patrick. ‘Come and chat outside for a moment, will you?’
Melissa followed her gaze. She was right. What if Patrick could hear them? She followed Debbie outside and they sat on two seats in the corridor.
‘I can’t say for sure, but there have always been rumours,’ Debbie said in a low voice. ‘And I did always wonder what he was getting up to when he dropped Joel off at Rosemary and Bill’s.’
Melissa put her head in her hands. It wasn’t just humiliation in front of the whole village too: clearly, most of them knew but no one had said anything to her!
‘He’s just like his father,’ Debbie said.
Melissa frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Bill always had an eye for the ladies. Why do you think he was so keen to help your mother? Ruby was beautiful, just like you are.’
Melissa looked at her in surprise. ‘Bill and – and my mum?’
‘I’m not saying anything happened between them,’ Debbie said quickly. ‘Your mother wasn’t like that. She was just supplying him with herbs for the dogs, that’s how they got chatting. But for Bill, it was more than that. Everyone knows he has a wandering eye.’
‘Jesus, I had no idea. I feel like a bloody fool.’
Debbie laughed. ‘You’re no fool, sweetheart. You’ve just had a bit more of a sheltered life than the rest of us, living in the forest all those years. And then the Byatts come along,’ she said bitterly, ‘with their shiny hair and shiny promises, taking you out of that horrible situation you were in out of the goodness of their hearts. Or so it seemed, anyway.’
‘What do you mean?’
Debbie leaned towards her. ‘I mean, Bill was about to run as councillor at the time, just like Patrick has been. Of course, helping the destitute wasn’t going to do his popularity ratings any harm, was it? I think your mum clocked on to that pretty early on, that was why she didn’t want to continue living there after a while.’
Melissa blinked. It made sense, really, how Bill and Rosemary had paraded Melissa around the village. And yet when it was clear their precious son was falling for the feral girl from the woods, they suddenly started to cool towards her, and it had been the same ever since.
‘It did make me laugh when I heard Patrick had got you pregnant,’ Debbie said. ‘Quail genes sullying the wonderful Byatt bloodline.’ She frowned. ‘And the way they acted when Joel was diagnosed, like it proved their theory.’
Melissa clenched her fists. ‘Or disproved it. Joel was the very best of the Quails and the Byatts.’
Debbie nodded, grabbing Melissa’s hand. ‘Absolutely, Melissa, absolutely. Oh, that boy, we all loved him so much.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘When I saw him lying there, so cold, too cold, I—’ She shook her head. ‘Anyway, that’s in the past. I just wish I could have done more.’
‘You did! You were his guardian angel.’
Debbie’s face darkened. ‘Hardly.’
Melissa leaned back in her chair, blinking back tears. ‘I don’t think I can deal with all this, Debbie.’
‘You hold on tight, young lady. You’ll get through this, just like you did when Joel died.’
‘I didn’t get through that,’ Melissa said. ‘You know I didn’t.’
Debbie gave her a sympathetic look. ‘You’re still here, aren’t you?’
‘And look what a mess I’m in,’ Melissa said, gesturing to Patrick’s ward as she gave a bitter laugh.
‘This isn’t your fault!’ Debbie said.
‘Isn’t it?’
Debbie’s brow creased. ‘I won’t let you beat yourself up about all this. Whatever happened to Patrick, you can bet your bottom dollar he brought it on himself.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Hello!’ a voice called out. They both looked up to see Rosemary walking down the corridor. A frown crossed her face when she noticed Debbie with Melissa. ‘Oh, you’re here.’
Melissa looked between the two women. They used to be friends, once. Bu
t then something had pulled them apart.
‘Right,’ Debbie said, standing up. ‘I’ll get out of your hair now. The nurses will take the trolley away.’ She gave Melissa a quick hug then walked down the corridor, giving her former friend a tight smile as she passed her.
Melissa and Rosemary walked back into the ward, taking a seat on either side of Patrick as Rosemary looked down at her son with loving eyes.
‘Can I ask you something, Rosemary?’ Melissa asked her mother-in-law.
‘Of course.’
Melissa took a deep breath. ‘Was Patrick cheating on me?’
Rosemary’s eyes widened. ‘For God’s sake, how can you say that in here, in front of him! Honestly, Melissa.’
Melissa pursed her lips.
‘Go and get a coffee,’ Rosemary said sharply as she took her son’s hand. ‘Looks like you need it.’
Rosemary hadn’t said no, had she? Melissa stood up and walked out.
Melissa leaned back in her chair that evening, staring out at the dark forest in the silence of Rosemary and Bill’s living room. Outside, the trees whispered to her, leaves rustling. She took another slug of cider, enjoying the way it made her mind whir. She’d been sitting here like this for the past few hours, the kids asleep upstairs, Bill now at the hospital with Rosemary. She’d made the kids dinner, sat wordlessly as they all ate. She saw them exchanging worried glances, but she didn’t have the energy to talk to them about everything that had unfolded. She needed to puzzle it out in her head.
Her husband had cheated on her. It was clear now. Their marriage was a sham.
She looked up at the ceiling, wondering if the kids knew too. That would explain their attitude to their father lately. Everything they held dear – the stability of their family – was starting to fall apart around their ears and their father was to blame.
But would that be enough to make one of them stab Patrick?
Maybe the seed had been sown before that, way before that, in the weeks and months after Joel died. Patrick had taken them to see Kitty: another deception on his part. But clearly, he had been concerned about something.
Melissa picked up her phone. There were some notifications on there but not as many as she’d been used to the past few days. People she’d usually expect to send a text of support or concern were notable by their silence. Daphne had messaged, though . . . and Ryan. Just a quick message. Hope Lewis is ok. Here if you need me. R.
She opened the phone’s browser and did a search for Kitty Fletcher’s website. She found it quickly, a light and airy design with a photo of Kitty on the home page holding her famous book. She clicked on the Contact Me page before she might regret it and typed a quick message into the form, along with her contact details.
Kitty, it’s Melissa Byatt. I’d love to meet to get your advice at your earliest convenience. Do let me know how I can arrange this. Kind regards, Melissa
‘There, sent,’ she said to herself. Kitty would probably be bound by client–therapist privileges so wouldn’t be able to say much. But at least she could try.
She placed her phone to the side and looked back down at Rosemary and Bill’s photo albums, which she’d got out earlier. She’d reached for them in desperation, studying each photo of her, Patrick and the kids to try to decipher when it all went wrong.
‘My darlings,’ she whispered, tracing her finger over the last photo she’d been looking at. It was her last photo of Joel, from Christmastime, his freckled face all cheery and happy, his frail body wrapped up in a warm festive jumper. Patrick was next to him, wearing an elf hat, and the twins were in the background, ripping open one of their dozens of Christmas presents.
She peered at the clock. Nearly midnight: time for bed. She stood up, stretching, and padded to the kitchen, placing her empty glass by the sink.
Then she paused.
Was that someone out in the garden?
She leaned closer as she looked out of the window, heart thumping.
Yes, there was definitely someone out there, on the edge of the forest, just watching the house.
She opened the back door and stepped out, Sandy and the two other Labradors bounding out into the darkness. The motion-activated outdoor lamp switched on, flooding the back garden with light.
The figure had disappeared.
Melissa wrapped her arms around herself. She looked at the dregs of her cider. She’d had three glasses. Maybe she was just seeing things? The last batch of cider she’d made and given to Rosemary and Bill was pretty potent. She checked the back door was locked anyway after the three dogs came in, all the other doors too, then walked upstairs.
She got ready, slightly unsteady on her feet, and slipped into bed. But once again, she couldn’t sleep. She was so used to Patrick being beside her as she slept she simply couldn’t shrug off his absence. Now her mind was filled with his infidelities, his lies and his secrets.
She felt like she had all those years ago after Joel died. She’d overheard her mum once describing tough times as like trying to walk up a muddy hill, doing your best to make progress, but you just kept slipping down, grabbing clumps of mud as you did and making it even harder until, in the end, you just slid down, down, down.
Melissa eventually fell asleep with the image of her mother in her mind, her long white hair and kind blue eyes.
But then she was woken again by the sound of breaking glass.
‘Mum?’ Grace’s scared voice called out. ‘What was that?’
Melissa jumped out of bed and ran on to the landing to see Grace watching her from the open door of the attic room above, bleary-eyed. As always, Lilly was sleeping through it, able to switch her mind off just like that.
Lewis shoved past his sister. ‘I’ll go and check,’ he said.
Melissa put her hand on his chest, stopping him. ‘No, wait here.’
‘But Mum . . .’
‘I can handle it, Lewis. I’m not as fragile as you think.’
She turned on the landing light and walked tentatively downstairs towards Rosemary and Bill’s moonlit kitchen, catching glimpses of jagged glass on the floor. She quickly turned the lights on, letting out a gasp when she saw that the back window had been smashed to smithereens. Lying on the floor among the glass was a brick. She stepped around the glass and picked it up, realising with horror that it was wrapped in one of the posters she’d found the week before. She turned it around in her shaking hands, noticing that Lewis’s face in the family photograph was circled in red pen with the words DAD KILLER scrawled above it.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Thursday 25th April, 2019
1.24 a.m.
It feels like it’s the night of what happened with Dad again in Nan and Grandad’s attic room, cowering under the covers, terrified. Except I’m even more scared now. At least I knew the monster under the bed last week. It was me.
But now there’s a new monster and Mum’s scared, really scared.
Why would someone do that, throw a brick through Nan and Grandad’s window?
There was something wrapped around it but Mum wouldn’t let us see it. She shouted at us to go back in our room so we did, because seriously, when she raises her voice like that, we know she means business. It must have been bad, though, really bad, because why’d she not show us? Plus, she was all trembly and quiet.
I remember another time she was like this, after Joel died. Going into herself. Or down a tunnel. That was how Kitty Fletcher described it. Alice falling down that rabbit hole.
She didn’t call the police. Instead, she called Grandad at the hospital, talking to him in this weird monotone voice. When he turned up with Tommy Mileham, Mum went with them into the living room and they all shut the door, whispering whispering whispering. That’s when I saw the photo albums on the kitchen table, and all those old photos of Joel. Mum must have been looking at them before she went to bed. It’s like she’s trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together, and she’s close, so close.
Will she finally slot all t
he pieces into place? And what then?
The three of us talked into the night last night. We talked about finally telling Mum everything. It’s crazy in a way: after putting soooo much energy and sleepless nights into not telling her, we were beginning to wonder whether we should.
But then we decided not to, for the same reasons we kept it from her in the first place: we might lose one parent; we don’t want to lose another.
But maybe she’ll figure it out before we get the chance?
Or, even worse, maybe Dad will wake up?
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Thursday 25th April, 2019
10.30 a.m.
Melissa nursed the tea Rosemary had made her and stared out at the forest, mesmerised by the rhythmic swaying of the branches outside. Upstairs, the faint sound of music trickled out of the attic room, the kids hiding away up there.
Melissa had phoned Bill as soon as she’d seen the brick. She’d thought about calling the police, but those two words had sent a dagger through her heart – DAD KILLER. She shuddered. No, it was bad enough with the police grilling Lewis after the incident with Graham. She didn’t need their suspicions raised by this too. So she deduced it was time to get help. She simply couldn’t deal with this alone any more. She could feel herself losing it, just as she had after Joel died. The brick through the window was the last straw.
Bill arrived twenty minutes later, with Tommy Mileham, who’d brought a board to place over the broken window. Melissa had ushered Bill into the living room and shown him what had been wrapped around the brick. When Bill saw the words scrawled above Lewis’s photo, he hadn’t said a word about it. Instead, he took the poster off and placed it in his pocket.
‘We’ll talk later,’ he’d said to Melissa. ‘Properly.’
She’d agreed, wordlessly. They didn’t even discuss calling the police. Melissa just let Bill and Tommy take over, like her mother had many years ago.
‘You okay, sweetheart?’ Rosemary said now, smiling sympathetically at Melissa as she sat beside her at the kitchen table. They’d agreed to give Patrick some rest from their constant vigils for an hour or two.
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