The Silenced Wife

by Collette Heather

  My head positively reeled with his sudden shift in attitude. But I knew what he was playing at, or at least, I thought I did. He wanted me to look my best for when we picked up Becky so that no one would suspect that I was being held hostage by my own husband.

  I couldn’t even begin to know how wrong I was.

  TWENTY-NINE

  I used that hour alone to psychologically prepare myself for warfare. I knew exactly how I was going to handle things when I got to Mum’s, but I also knew it wasn’t going to be easy.

  I submersed myself fully in the hot water and despite everything, I revelled in how good the bath felt. The fragrant water eased my aching muscles and soothed my mind. Even being able to use the toilet by myself was a treat.

  After wallowing in the bath for more than half an hour, I reluctantly got out and wrapped myself in one of the huge, fluffy towels and used a smaller one to wrap up my hair. That done, I turned my attention to my makeup bag. Aaron had oh-so thoughtfully laid everything out for me that I might need on the shelf above the sink.

  I stood in front of the mirror and got to work painting my face. Because this was my war-paint. I was going into battle with Aaron.

  And I was going to win.

  * * *

  Exactly one hour later, Aaron came into the bathroom. I had been keeping a careful eye on the time via the chrome wall-clock shaped like a duck and the door unlocked at a quarter to eleven. I had made sure that I would be ready in time.

  When he came into the room, I was sitting on the closed toilet lid in my new clothes, my curls tamed and falling gracefully around my shoulders, my face immaculate. I was ready.

  But even so, just the sight of him made me want to burst into tears. My heart instantly started to hammer at an alarming rate and the adrenalin coursed through me.

  ‘Did you have a nice bath, Joyce?’

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ I answered primly.

  ‘And I trust you’re not concealing any weapons on your person?’

  ‘No,’ I breathed, my heart suddenly pounding all the harder.

  I had thought about it, of course I had, but think about it was all I did. I simply didn’t want to risk being discovered. My mind was made up that I would raise the alarm when I got to my mum’s, and only then.

  All I had to do was wait that long.

  ‘Stand up, Joyce.’

  I did as I was bid, hating the way I couldn’t stop trembling in his presence. He came over towards me and I did my best not to flinch.

  ‘Are you sure you’re not carrying anything with which you intend to harm me with?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said again.

  He stared intently at me, as if searching to see if I were telling the truth. ‘Not even a pair of tweezers in the sole of your shoe? Or a nail-file in your bra?’

  ‘No,’ I said again.

  ‘You know, by rights I should ask you to strip to prove this to me.’

  The moisture instantly sucked from my mouth. ‘I’m not carrying anything like that,’ I said honestly.

  He continued to stare me down in that hateful, toying way, then he burst out laughing. ‘Oh, relax, I know you’re not. I was watching you get ready through the keyhole the entire time.’

  My face must have looked a picture, for he laughed some more. ‘Just kidding, Joyce, just kidding. What do you think I am, a pervert or something?’

  I could feel that the tears were dangerously close and I swallowed them back down. Aaron would go mad if I ruined my face so close to us picking up Becky.

  Not long now, I told myself. Just hang in there.

  ‘Shall we go downstairs? You must still be hungry, you should eat something before we set off. You know how diabolical airline food can be.’

  Why is he playing this game? I thought. I didn’t understand, and that scared me as much as anything.

  He just wants you fresh for when you pick up Becky and see your mum, that’s all…

  ‘After you,’ he said, holding open the bathroom door. ‘You look beautiful by the way. Absolutely perfect.’

  I ignored the compliment and walked past him out into the bedroom. With me in front, we made our way downstairs.

  To my surprise, he led me into the living-room.

  ‘Sit down,’ he said, indicating the usual spot on the white leather sofa where I made a habit of sitting.

  Only when I sat down did I notice the sandwich on a plate on the coffee-table. Next to it was a tall glass of orange juice with condensation clinging to the sides.

  ‘That’s right, Joyce, I made you a sandwich and a drink. Don’t worry, it won’t bite. And neither is it poisoned, before you ask. Eat it up, there’s a good girl. Because if you don’t do as you’re told, you know what I am capable of.’

  His tone was light, but his words said it all.

  Besides, there was no two ways about it; I was still famished. I needed my strength and my wits about me so I reached for the sandwich. I genuinely didn’t think that it was poisoned. I might well have been wrong, but my gut instinct told me that it wasn’t. I had seen what he had done to that poor girl

  (Molly her name was Molly)

  and I simply didn’t think that poisoning was his style.

  When I took a big bite out of the cheese and pickle sandwich, I prayed that I was right. I wolfed down the sandwich and drained the glass of juice as Aaron watched on intently. A slow smile spread across his face and then he flicked his wrist to check his designer watch.

  ‘Not long now.’

  For a moment there, I thought he was referring to the effects the poison might take to ravage my body, but then I realised he meant it wasn’t long left until we drove to pick up my daughter.

  I didn’t want him to tie me up again, so I sat there, perfectly still.

  ‘Are you going to sit there quietly until we leave?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Do you need to use the toilet?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Good. Then let’s watch a bit of telly, shall we? Don’t move a muscle.’

  I had no intention of.

  I watched him reach for the remote and the TV blared into life, straight onto CBeebies. Tears blurred my eyes at the painful reminder of Becky and hastily I blinked them away.

  He flicked to the news, but in some strange way, just those two seconds of that brightly-coloured cartoon had had emboldened me. I would do anything to protect Becky.

  Anything.

  He sat back down and together, we waited.

  * * *

  We waited for half an hour. When the bell sounded, signalling that someone was at the gates, I flinched in surprise, my heart instantly racing.

  Who the hell could that be?

  ‘Excuse me,’ Aaron said, getting to his feet, presumably to go into the kitchen to speak to whoever was at the gate.

  I strained my ears but heard nothing. Damn this fucking house to hell, I thought in despair, hating how huge it was. Hating how isolated I was inside it in every conceivable way.

  Aaron came back into the room, all smiles. I didn’t trust that smile at all.

  What is he up to?

  ‘Why are you looking so uptight, Joyce? It’s just the window cleaner. Come on, it’s time to go.’

  Shakily, I got to my feet. ‘Aren’t we going to wait for the window cleaner to leave before we go?’ I asked.

  I don’t know why I felt the urge to speak out, but the question felt deeply important, although I didn’t for the life of me know why. Besides, I knew that Aaron wouldn’t do anything to me in the seconds before we left, especially as there was a potential witness outside.

  ‘Are you daring to question me? Does it matter if there is a workman here or not? The gardener is coming tomorrow, too; I’ve even told him the code to the gate. And I shall give the window cleaner the code to the gate too, so that he can shut it behind himself when he leaves. Is that okay with you?’ he asked incredulously.

  I nodded, shaking at his ill-suppressed rage. I wondered if I would pay for my
stupid question later.

  ‘Wait there,’ he said. ‘Do not leave this room, am I clear?’

  Again, I nodded. I was beginning to feel like one of those idiot, nodding-head-dogs one sometimes saw in the back windows of cars. I watched him leave the room, glaring daggers into his back.

  When he was gone I rushed over to one of the sash windows; he hadn’t said anything about not moving from the spot, just not leaving the room.

  I knew I was on shaky ground with that theory though, and made sure to keep out of sight.

  I watched as Aaron went outside with the suitcases. He held one in each hand and they trundled behind him on their little wheels on the gravelled forecourt. I glimpsed the window cleaner’s white van, which was parked on the opposite side of the forecourt to Aaron’s car.

  Without warning, Aaron’s head snapped round in the direction of my window, and I gasped, springing back in shock. I suspected that I did so too late. I didn’t dare look to find out.

  A few minutes later, Aaron came back into the room. I was sitting on the sofa, fully expecting him to chastise me for spying on him.

  To my surprise, he didn’t mention it.

  ‘All set?’

  Dumbly, I nodded.

  ‘Then let’s go.’

  It felt good to be outside, to pretend that everything was normal, even if only for a second. As we walked over to the car which was parked next to the hedge on the opposite side of the house to the garage, I glanced over at the window cleaner’s van. I couldn’t see him, but the backdoor of his van was open and I figured that he was back there, preparing his stuff.

  In a way, I was glad that I couldn’t see the man – I would hate to be tempted to cry for help now rather than at my mum’s house, as planned. It was far too risky to do so here, I needed to be away from this hell-house and amongst other people. It wasn’t safe to act out here.

  Passively, I walked with him to the car, round to the passenger door. I climbed in like everything was completely ordinary, amazed at how outwardly normal I was being.

  Behind me, the car boot slammed, rocking the car and making me flinch. Aaron opened the driver’s door, and climbed in.

  ‘You all set?’ he asked me again, like we really were just an ordinary couple.

  ‘Yes,’ I replied, resting my hot forehead against the cool glass of the tinted window.

  I gazed out at the window cleaner, who had just come into view. He was busy unloading the ladder from the back of his van. I thought about winding down my window and screaming at him that I was being held prisoner by my husband, that he was a murderer and that he should call the police right now, but I didn’t so much as twitch my hands in my lap.

  Everything will be all right, I told myself. You just have to get to Becky. It’s almost over.

  Aaron started the engine, and the car purred into life. He shifted the gearstick into reverse, then stopped.

  ‘Oh, I left the passports and tickets in the drawer of my bedside table,’ he said, killing the engine. ‘Would you mine popping upstairs and getting them?’

  I looked at him blankly, not believing what he was asking me. I could raise the alarm with the window cleaner if he let me out the car; why would he trust me to do that?

  Because he knows I’m just hellbent on reaching Becky.

  ‘Jesus Christ, Joyce, will you just do as you’re told? I forgot the passports, so would you please go and get them?’ He reached into his pocket and produced the front-door key. ‘The code to the alarm system is six four three eight. Just get on with it, will you?’

  I simply couldn’t believe that he was asking me to do this. I could do anything when I was inside the house.

  Like use the phone.

  My heart started to hammer at an alarming rate. Yes. Get inside and call the police. My throat was suddenly bone dry and I was near dizzy at this new opportunity.

  ‘Fine,’ I said, keeping my voice neutral as I accepted the offered key.

  I was so busy thinking about the damn phone, that I wasn’t as suspicious of his request as I should have been.

  On automatic pilot, I pushed open the car door and as soon as my new ballet pumps touched down on the gravel, the window cleaner called out to me.

  ‘Morning,’ he chirruped over his shoulder as he rummaged around in the back of his white van.

  ‘Morning,’ I replied, the smile feeling tight on my lips and my heart pumping hard.

  Tell him! Then I thought of Becky. No. You have to wait…

  ‘I’ll just wait in the car, then,’ Aaron called over to me.

  Again, I didn’t find that remotely odd at the time, that he felt the need to announce the fact that he was in the car, waiting for me. It was only afterwards that I realised his little announcement was for the window cleaner’s benefit.

  The window cleaner grinned and waved to Aaron, who was leaning over the front seats and peering through the wound-down window.

  He raised his hand in return and smiled. I noticed that he had his mobile phone pressed to his ear, and I frowned slightly at that because for some reason it made me uneasy.

  Who the hell is he calling?

  He wound up the window, immediately turning invisible behind the tinted glass.

  The window cleaner’s van was parked opposite Aaron’s car on the other side of the wide driveway. We both arrived in the middle of the driveway at the same time, him with his extendable ladder and squeegee tucked under one arm, and a bucket of sudsy water hanging from the other.

  ‘Bit warmer today, innit,’ he said with a grin.

  Absently, I noticed how he was missing his top left tooth, along with most of his hair. I was surprised to find that more than just a cursory glance revealed him to be not much older than me.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ I agreed, wishing that I had timed my walk to the house better so that I didn’t have to make polite conversation with a stranger when the urge to blurt everything out was so strong.

  ‘You off somewhere nice today?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, realising that I was being rude and that I needed to elaborate. ‘The Maldives. We’re going on our honeymoon. We forgot our passports and tickets inside the house.’

  ‘You won’t get far without them,’ he laughed.

  ‘No.’

  ‘The Maldives, ay? Very nice, I ain’t never been.’

  ‘No, me neither.’

  ‘Fancy takin’ me with you?’ he grinned.

  I had no witty comeback for that one, and just smiled politely.

  Thankfully, we had reached the front of the house, and with a friendly nod, we went our separate ways – him to the left-hand, downstairs window, me to the front door.

  Before I opened the front door, I went over the code in my head before I inserted the key in the lock.

  Six, four, three, eight, I said to myself as I turned the key.

  Once inside the vast hallway, I punched in the digits in the little black box by the door and the alarm stopped its warning beeping.

  Maybe I should’ve just let the damn thing go off, I thought.

  But Aaron had told me that the alarm wasn’t hooked up to anything or anyone – it was just a deterrent to scare away potential burglars. Besides, Aaron would just come in and disable the alarm, so what would be the point?

  I shut the door behind myself and hurried into the kitchen, heading straight for the landline. With trembling fingers, I snatched up the receiver and dialled nine, nine, nine.

  ‘Fuck,’ I sobbed when I was met with a deadline.

  I smashed the receiver back into its cradle, snatched it up again, and violently pressed a whole load of buttons, but still it didn’t work.

  I cried out in frustration, my hands flying up to fist my hair, tugging it hard at the roots.

  ‘No, no, no,’ I cried, the despair washing over me.

  I let go of my hair and swiped at my eyes with a sleeve of my denim jacket.

  I had to hold it together. Now, where was my damn mobile? Looking for it now would
be akin to searching for a needle in a haystack, given the size of the house.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  I wanted to fall to my knees and howl like a wounded animal, but somehow, I resisted the urge. I decided that if I didn’t find my mobile straightaway, then I would give up the task as a lost cause and it was right back to plan A. I had to get to Mum’s, and I knew that I mustn’t be too long in here because Aaron would get suspicious and come looking for me.

  I stumbled out into the hallway, then up the winding staircase, lightly trailing my hand along the curving banister. I could hear the window cleaner slopping water onto the downstairs window, but when I looked behind myself, I couldn’t see him because the blinds were closed.

  Up in the bedroom, I went straight over to the bedside table on Aaron’s side of the bed, yanked open the drawer, but there were no passports and tickets to be seen.

  I looked wildly around myself.

  If I was Aaron, where would I put my phone?

  I’d chuck it out, that’s what I would do…

  I let out a little whimper. This was hopeless.

  No, it wasn’t hopeless, I reminded myself. Just get to Mum’s and everything will be okay.

  But in order to do that, I needed the passports and tickets. And the bloody things weren’t where he said they’d be.

  Maybe they were in the bedside drawer next to my side of the bed.

  A bad feeling curdled in my guts. Only then did I begin to twig that something was wrong – that I perhaps had been sent up here on a wild goose chase.

  I hurried round to the other bedside table and opened the drawer, swiftly followed by the door to the lower cupboard. No passports or tickets there, either.

  I stood there, unsure of what to do. Should I just ransack the room until I found them?

  They’re not up here.

  The horrible thought settled in my stomach like a cold stone. I was being played. I didn’t have any choice, I had to go back to the car and tell Aaron that I couldn’t find them. That feeling of dread intensified until I felt sick with it. I didn’t want to leave the room, but I knew that I had to.