by Cathy Glass
Sarah, will you make us a drink? And James, I want you to find your teddy. We’ve all got a job to do but we must be quick.’
The children kept close beside her like chicks around a mother hen as they approached the corner and the turning to their road. The daylight was quickly fading and the drab, wet skies of a dismal winter afternoon were closing in. Still holding hands, they rounded the corner as one. Then stopped dead. They stared in disbelief and horror. Halfway down the street, parked at the kerb outside their house, was Mark’s car.
‘He’s home!’ Sarah cried. ‘He must know!’
Aisha stared, unable to believe what she was seeing. ‘He can’t know,’ she gasped. ‘I didn’t know myself until this afternoon. It’s impossible.’ Yet something told her that it wasn’t, and he did.
‘What are we going to do?’ Sarah asked, letting go of her hand to go round and comfort her brother.
‘I don’t know,’ Aisha began. ‘I …’ But the words fell away.
But how? When? Why? He hadn’t followed her that morning on the bus, she would have noticed, she was sure. Yet he never came home this early, never. He often got back after nine on a Friday, and some nights he didn’t come home at all. Perhaps he was ill? Perhaps he’d left work early because he was unwell? But if he was, why was the car out of the garage? He hadn’t taken it to work that morning, he’d used the tube as he did most days. The car had been in the garage that morning when she’d left, she was sure. But why wasn’t it now?
‘Aren’t we going to the monks’ house?’ James asked between sobs.
Aisha fought to regain control. ‘No. Now, listen. You have to forget everything I’ve told you. Everything. Do you understand? We will go in as normal. I’ve just collected you from school. James, you can read your book to Sarah while I make us a drink. Act perfectly normal. Forget everything. I know it’s difficult, but you must.’
Sarah nodded as James sniffed. Aisha took a tissue from her pocket and wiped his face, then waited while he blew his nose.
‘Good boy. Now, no more crying. Don’t cry and we’ll be all right.’ But her heart and mind cried out and told her otherwise, for not only were they not going to escape, but Mark would be furious if he knew she’d been out of the house for longer than the twenty minutes it took to collect the children from school.
James pushed the tissue into his pocket and tried to smile, but found it impossible. Sarah took his hand.
‘OK, now come on.’ Aisha said, and went in front while the children followed a little behind. They continued up the street, the house drawing closer with each step.
Perhaps Mark had only been in for a short while, she thought, which was why his car was outside. Perhaps he’d just got in, for whatever reason, and had taken the car out of the garage ready to use later. Aisha couldn’t remember him doing that before, but it wasn’t impossible. In which case, her absence was accountable. She’d been to the school to collect the children and now she was coming home. But if he had been in for longer and was aware of her absence, she needed an excuse. But what? What excuse could she possibly give for being gone for longer than the school run? She had no shopping with her and anyway Mark knew she didn’t have money to buy anything. Likewise, he knew she didn’t have friends to visit, and no family to speak of. A doctor’s appointment? But the surgery wasn’t open in the afternoon, only mornings and evenings, and that could easily be checked. A walk? It was the only possibility. Yes, she would have to say she had gone for a breath of fresh air. He would be angry, but hopefully no more than any other time when he’d phoned to check on her and she’d been asleep and hadn’t answered immediately.
The children drew further back as they approached the house. The lights were going on in the neighbouring houses as the last of the daylight disappeared. Aisha saw their hall and lounge lights were on too, but had no idea what that meant, other than that Mark was in. The up-and-over door to the garage was down as normal. She stopped at the front gate and pressed the latch, pushed the gate open and waited for the children to catch up. They went up the short path, Sarah and James together, slightly behind her and still hand in hand. At the front door Aisha stopped and bent down to whisper to the children.
‘Act perfectly normal, all right?’ They nodded, and her hand trembled as she took the key from her pocket and turned it in the lock.
As she opened the inner door, she said loud and cheerily, in case Mark could hear. ‘Come on, quickly. I think Daddy might be home.’
She smiled, trying to lighten their load, but their large eyes stared back silent, unblinking and afraid. She closed both doors, then busied herself in the hall, helping James out of his sopping wet shoes and coat. Sarah tried to unbutton her coat, but her cold, wet, shaking fingers refused to cooperate. ‘Here, let me,’ Aisha said, and started to undo the bottom buttons on her coat as Sarah continued fumbling with the top.
They heard the interconnecting door to the garage slam shut in the kitchen and Sarah jumped. James froze and looked as though he might cry again. ‘Sshhh, shhhh,’ Aisha soothed quietly and placed a finger to her lips. She draped their coats over the radiator in the hall to dry as Mark’s footsteps left the tiled floor of the kitchen and disappeared into the carpet of the lounge. Then another sound, the rustle of his nylon overalls, growing closer as he approached the hall. Aisha knew then for certain that he hadn’t just come in, but had had time to change out of his suit and had been tinkering in the garage. Sarah knew it too and gave a little cry.
A few seconds later, Mark appeared through the lounge door and stood in the hall, surveying them.
‘You’re back,’ he said flatly. ‘Where have you been?’
‘To school,’ Aisha said, making her voice light and even. ‘To fetch the children.’
‘No. Before that.’
She looked at him, trying to gauge his mood, but as often happened it was impossible; his controlled expression said nothing beyond he wanted a reply, and offered no clue as to what he was thinking or what lay in store.
‘Before that?’ she said lightly. ‘I went for a walk.’
‘In the rain?’
‘It was nice earlier. I had a headache and wanted some air. I’m sorry. If I’d known you were coming home early I wouldn’t have gone.’
He looked at Sarah and James and then again at her. Any minute now, she thought, any second and he would come towards her and strike. Sometimes he made her wait, as though savouring the delay, like a cat toying with a mouse. She never knew the exact moment when the blow would come, only that it would.
‘Go upstairs and get dried off,’ Aisha said to Sarah and James, wanting them out of the way. Usually she had them in their rooms before Mark came home in the evenings, and at weekends they played upstairs if he was in the house.
The children took a step towards the stairs, then stopped as their father’s arm shot out and blocked their way.
‘Hey. Not so fast,’ he said. ‘What’s the hurry? Don’t you want to see your daddy?’
Aisha instinctively put herself between the children and him and placed an protective arm around each of their shoulders. ‘They’re wet, Mark,’ she said evenly. ‘They need to change.’
‘In a minute. They won’t melt. First they can tell me if they’ve had a good day. That’s what children are supposed to do when they first come in from school.’
Sarah and James said nothing, they just stood looking up at him, large eyes rounded in fear. Aisha gave their shoulders a little squeeze of encouragement.
‘Yes,’ they replied together.
‘My God! You’re like a couple of robots.’ Mark laughed. ‘Put some life into it, for goodness’ sake!’
‘Yes thank you, Daddy,’ Sarah said with more conviction, aware of what was at stake.
‘That’s better,’ Mark said. ‘And what about you, James? Did you enjoy school?’
He nodded and managed a bleated, ‘Yes.’
Mark laughed again and dropped his arm from the stairwell. ‘OK, off you go; go and
amuse yourselves. I need to speak to your mother.’
Sarah remained where she was while James ran upstairs. She looked at her mother, waiting for her permission and reassurance. She would never abandon her mother unless she told her to.
‘Go on,’ Aisha nodded. ‘Do as your father says.’
Sarah hesitated again and then went upstairs.
‘Well?’ Mark said, drawing himself up squarely. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me?’
She searched his face, trying to think of what she should be asking. What she had forgotten. The floorboard squeaked overhead as Sarah crossed the landing and went into James’s room.
‘Ask you what?’ she said quietly.
‘Why I have come home early. I mean, I don’t normally. I’m a creature of habit. So what makes me suddenly take a half-day’s leave on a Friday and come home early?’
She heard the ‘half-day’ and felt sick. Half-day. Three, possibly four hours. Not even she could have been walking for that length of time, especially in the rain.
‘What brings you home early?’ she said, her voice slight and unsteady. ‘You don’t normally.’
‘No. Quite so. I don’t. So it must be something pretty big. Very special to bring me home at lunchtime.’
‘Lunchtime,’ she repeated and she felt her knees tremble.
‘Yes.’ He smiled. It was a wide, broad grin, that seemed to hold none of his usual derision, but was doubtless just a different ploy. She never knew exactly how he was going to play it, and this was different again from anything she could remember. ‘I’ve been in the garage all afternoon,’ he confirmed with another grin.
Aisha hadn’t heard James’s bedroom door close and she knew the children were probably both listening. ‘Shall we go into the lounge?’ she said, not wanting them to hear. She walked past him and expected the first blow.
She heard his nylon overalls rustle behind her, but the blow didn’t come. He followed her into the lounge and she turned to face him, putting what distance there was between them.
‘I’ve bought something,’ he said, his voice light and almost jovial. ‘I’ve bought myself a present, a treat, for doing well at work. I collected it at lunchtime and came straight home. It’s in the garage and I want you to be the first to see it.’
She looked at him from across the lounge, studied his face, his body language, for some clue. But there was nothing beyond self-satisfaction and something almost indefinable, which could have been joy.
‘A present?’ she asked lamely. ‘For doing well at work?’
‘Yes. That’s what I said. Come on. You’ve kept me waiting long enough. It’s in the garage and I want you to be the first to see. I’ve been waiting all afternoon.’
He turned, ready to go, while she stayed where she was. The garage. No, she didn’t want to go in there. He kept it locked and she and the children were never normally allowed in. If she went into the garage it would be more difficult to get away. The up-and-over door was down at the front so the only exit was through the kitchen. If he locked or barred that door, she would be trapped with no means of escape.
‘Come on then,’ he said again, an edge of impatience creeping into his voice. ‘I want to get cracking, before it gets dark. Best foot forwards.’
There was no alternative so she followed him. To run now would incite his anger even more, and where would she run to? Not upstairs. She didn’t want the children to witness another assault. And not out of the house because she had already learnt that if she fled the house he locked the doors, and wouldn’t let her in again until the morning.
‘I always wanted another one,’ he called over his shoulder as she followed a few paces behind him. ‘It’s the one thing I promised myself when I could afford it. And now I can!’
He reached the interconnecting door to the garage, but instead of opening it, he turned and stood with his back against it and looked at her. There were still none of the telltale signs which over the years she’d come to recognize – the slight tensing of his brow, the brief narrowing of his eyes, the colour imperceptibly ebbing from his lips, all of which gave her the precious few seconds’ warning to cover herself for protection or to run. But there were none of these.
‘Close your eyes,’ he said. ‘I want it to be a complete surprise. I’ll tell you when to look.’
She followed his instructions and did as he said. She brought up her hands and placed them palms down over her eyelids. Sometimes compliance persuaded him out of it; sometimes, but not always.
‘No peeping,’ he called, his nylon overalls rustling.
She stood a yard or so in front of him, eyes closed and hands blocking out the light. She was even more vulnerable now, unable to see, with no idea where he was and no chance to interpret and cower. She heard the handle on the door lower and then the door creak open. She felt the front of cold air rush in from the garage. And she thought objectively, without emotion, that the saving grace of him attacking her in the garage was that the children wouldn’t have to see or hear.
Chapter Nineteen
With her hands covering her face, Aisha heard Mark’s footsteps and sensed his approach. She closed her body down, ready for the attack. Eyes screwed shut and face shielded by her hands, she hunched her shoulders forwards, and brought her elbows inward to protect her stomach. But instead of the expected blow, the first vicious thump that would spearhead the rest, Mark continued past and round her. Stopping just behind her, she felt his hands on her shoulders. ‘You mustn’t look until I tell you,’ he said. ‘I’ll be annoyed if you do.’ His voice was light and his fingers rested gently on her shoulders, his touch just like it used to be a lifetime ago.
She went with him as he eased her forwards, steered her towards the open door. ‘Mind the step,’ he said briefly. ‘We don’t want you tripping over.’
Aisha raised one foot, then the other, and stepped over the small concrete plinth and into the garage. She felt the cold air encase her and smelt stale engine oil combine with more recent exhaust fumes. It crossed her mind that he might be planning to gas her, asphyxiate her with carbon monoxide from the car, but she dismissed it; if and when he did eventually kill her, he’d make it look like an accident – a fall from the top of the stairs or drowning in the bath. Apart from which, the car was outside, and if he raised the garage door, she would make a run for it.
‘Keep your eyes closed until I tell you,’ Mark said again in the same conciliatory tone.
They stopped just inside the garage and his hands left her shoulders as he came round to stand in front of her. She felt him take hold of her arms, just above her wrists, it was still a light touch with no pressure, not his usual painful grip when he was about to hit her. He began edging her sideways to the right, a little down the side of the garage, then stopped. Positioning her with her back against the wall it was as though he was lining her up for something and every muscle in her body tensed. His hands left her arms and he moved away. She heard the door to the kitchen close, then his footsteps recede across the concrete floor, towards the centre of the garage. Her hands were still covering her face and she felt the moisture from her breath condense warm onto her palms. Her heart thudded violently as she strained for any sound that would give her a clue, a hint of what he was about to do, and that crucial second’s warning with its chance of escape.
His footsteps stopped in the middle of the garage and there was a small silence before she heard a sound of crinkling and scraping, as though heavy-duty polythene was being dragged over the concrete garage floor.
‘Nearly ready,’ Mark called, his voice animated with excitement. ‘The great unveiling!’
Aisha’s mind circled and darted as she stood behind her self-imposed blindfold and waited. Her thoughts fled to corners that she hardly dared consider, and where she hadn’t ventured in years. Was it possible that after all this time Mark really did want to show her something? Share a purchase? But he never shared anything with her, not even a thought, unless of course it was another cru
el joke, like the Christmas present he had gift-wrapped which had turned out to contain his dirty washing.
‘OK,’ he called. ‘On the count of three you can open your eyes.’ Then: ‘One. Two. Three. You can look now!’
With every muscle taut and ready for flight, Aisha slowly lowered her hands and blinked into the fluorescent light. She blinked again and it took a moment for her to realize, to comprehend what she was seeing. In the middle of the garage, beside a heap of dark blue polythene, Mark stood facing her, feet apart, arms folded across his chest, posing proudly beside a huge, red, gleaming, brand-new motorbike. Aisha blinked again and allowed herself to breathe, then let her arms fall to her sides.
‘Well? What do you think?’ he said grinning. ‘Isn’t she magnificent? Top speed of a hundred and eighty. She’ll do the ton easily.’
Aisha looked at the bike with its immaculate paintwork, glinting chrome and spotless black tyres and didn’t know what to think. She could see the garage reflected in one of the wing mirrors, which stuck out like antlers on either side of the handlebars. She looked between the bike and Mark, and for the briefest of seconds wondered what it had cost.
‘Well?’ he said again, waiting for her reply. ‘Isn’t she absolutely beautiful?’
‘Yes,’ she said at last.
Mark laughed indulgently, and unfolding his arms, relaxed his pose. ‘Come on over here,’ he said, waving for Aisha to join him, ‘and I’ll tell you all about her. You won’t understand the jargon, but believe me, she’s the best. Bikes have come a long way since I was a teenager. I can’t believe I’ve actually got one. It’s been my lifelong ambition to own another, and now I do!’
Aisha could see that he was beside himself with excitement, like a child with a new toy. She moved slowly forwards, towards the centre of the garage, relief and confusion mingling in equal parts. Clearly Mark had treated himself and he wanted to show her. She looked at the shiny toy and thought sadly of everything the children had been denied, and could have wept.