by Lisa Hall
I can’t let this happen. I can’t let this happen. The same thought revolves round and round in my mind as I descend the ladder, and I have to force myself to try and think rationally. It doesn’t have to happen. Rav hasn’t booked the flights yet, as far as I could tell when I searched his account on the laptop; he’s only looked at flights. My mother is right. If I can show him that I am fine, that everything here is fine, I can stop him from taking them. I’ll ask Miranda to help me make a new charm for the attic, I’ll get rid of the mirror, I’ll make sure that Agnes Gowdie is banished forever. I’ll die before I’ll let him take them. I think of myself walking purposefully into the pond, letting my feet sink into the mud until the water closes over my head. The image is as clear as if it is happening on screen in front of me, only it’s not my face. It’s the face of Agnes Gowdie. I blink the image away and let my eyes wander to the cans of paint stacked against the wall. I’ll start the mural, and he’ll see then that I’m trying to make things nice for Mina, that I am a good mother. I push the trapdoor closed and use the hook to lock it, then ferry the cans of paint into Mina’s bedroom.
I had already sketched the artwork lightly onto Mina’s wall in pencil before the baby was born, and now I pull her bed into the middle of the room and stand back to get a good look at it. It’s an underwater scene, inspired by her favourite movie, The Little Mermaid. Fronds of seaweed rise from the skirting boards, as tiny fish swim in between them. At the end of the wall, a mermaid sits on a rock, her long hair drawn over one shoulder. A fishhook dangles from the ceiling, a worm baited on the end as a hungry fish eyes it, a shoal of smaller fish behind him. A shark’s snout peeps out from behind a lobster pot, and I have managed to arrange the coral and sea plants so that when the sun streams in the window it will bring life to them. The air is cold in Mina’s room and I shiver slightly, refusing to acknowledge that whatever usually chills the landing has moved, has followed me into Mina’s room. Swallowing down the fear that bubbles beneath the surface, humming under my breath to break the heavy silence, I begin to paint.
‘Allie? What in God’s name are you doing?’
I stop muttering to myself, one paint brush clamped between my teeth as I dab frantically at the walls with another. I have painted in all the seaweed fronds in varying shades of green, the mermaid is brought to life with Ariel’s trademark red hair and clam shell bra. I am fully immersed under the sea.
‘Allie. Stop.’ Rav moves forward, a crying Mina on his hip as he takes the paintbrush from between my teeth. ‘Look at the state of you, you’re covered in paint. How long have you been up here, doing … this?’
I glance towards the window. Earlier, the sun had been breaking through the clouds, now it is barely above the horizon. The room is still cold, but it is a natural cold and my skin prickles with sweat and heat, my cheeks burning. My reflection in the glass is unkempt, my hair sticking to my sweaty forehead, paint daubed on my cheeks and splattered across my T-shirt. ‘I … not long.’ I become aware of a thin wailing, a ragged and exhausted cry. Rav glares at me for a moment before hurrying from the room, Mina still snuffling in his arms. I lay down the paintbrush, feeling disorientated and off kilter. Rav’s voice filters through from our bedroom, where he is murmuring to the baby, who in turn responds with more angry cries. Quietly, I walk through to where Rav is leaning over the bed, changing the baby, as Mina sits next to them, her eyes red and her breathing hitching in her chest.
‘Shall I do it?’
‘No.’ Rav’s tone is short, his face white with fury, and I blink, sure that I am about to cry. ‘I’ve nearly finished.’ He stuffs the baby’s legs into the Babygro and snaps the poppers closed. The baby continues to wail, and the sound is like nails on a chalkboard in my ear. ‘Fucking hell, Allie. What were you thinking? I found Mina sobbing her heart out outside her bedroom door because she couldn’t get in and the baby in his cot screaming his head off.’
‘I’m sorry, Rav.’ I reach out to Mina but she pulls away, leaning against Rav. ‘I lost track … I forgot I moved the furniture in front of the door. I didn’t think—’
Rav cuts across me. ‘When was the baby last fed?’
For one terrifying moment I can’t remember, and I almost say ‘last night’. ‘Earlier, not too long ago, when Avó left.’ I hold out my arms and Rav lays the baby in them, so I can feed him. He latches on immediately, not like before when he has fussed and rooted for ages, always after someone has given him a bottle. I sigh, relieved the screams have stopped. The baby’s skin is hot and clammy, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he drinks. A low scratch comes from the wall to the left of me and I turn my face away, looking at Rav who stands in the doorway with Mina.
‘What time is it?’ I ask, suddenly aware that the sun has dipped completely behind the trees.
‘Just gone seven.’
‘Oh gosh!’ I look away, training my eyes on the baby’s head. I feel exposed, as if my nerves are electrified. ‘I didn’t realize it was so late.’ No wonder the baby was screaming, this is the longest he’s ever gone between feeds. I can’t believe I didn’t hear the children crying. I feel sick at the idea of Mina calling for me and not getting a response.
‘I take it you’ve fed Mina?’
I swallow, feeling the shame rise up my cheeks. ‘I’m sorry, Rav, I got lost in the painting. You know how I lose all track of time when I get involved in something creative.’ I couldn’t tell you how many times he’s had to come and draw me away from the shop.
‘I know.’ His voice softens slightly, and I think that maybe, just maybe my mother was right. By starting to paint the mural, Rav will believe me when I say I’m back to my old self. ‘I’ll go and make her something to eat, if you don’t mind packing your painting things out of the way so she can go to bed.’
‘Of course.’ I breathe out a sigh of relief as he leaves.
I bath the baby and lay him in the Moses basket that I have left in the corner of Mina’s room. I want our bedroom to be just ours for a while tonight, to spend some time alone with Rav. I have to talk to him, to clear the air. I push the thought of the suitcase in the attic out of my mind. He hasn’t used it, not yet, and if I can make things right, he won’t need to. When Rav comes back down from putting Mina to bed, he doesn’t comment on the fact that the baby is sleeping in the Moses basket instead of the cot.
‘Do you want some tea?’ Rav asks. ‘Or are you hungry? I can cook.’
I shake my head to both. I don’t have any appetite and the very thought of the tea makes me feel nauseous.
‘OK.’ Rav comes and sits opposite me. ‘Allie, we need to talk, don’t we? You seem …’
‘I feel better. Much. I’m sorry about today, about the painting. I lost track of time. You know I wouldn’t have let Mina cry deliberately.’ I meet his eyes, almost daring him to look away first. He does. ‘I saw Avó and Naomi earlier.’ I tuck my hands under the table and give in to the urge to pick at the skin around my nails. The thought of Naomi, standing here in my kitchen earlier today when just a few hours before she had been meeting Rav behind my back, makes me jittery and anxious.
‘Oh?’ Rav tries to look surprised, but he doesn’t make a very good job of it. ‘It was good of Naomi to make the time to bring Avó. She must be really busy in the shop, it’s wedding season, isn’t it?’
‘I never said Naomi brought Avó over.’ Something stirs in my gut, putrid and poisonous. They have spoken since this afternoon, Rav and Naomi. They must have.
‘I just assumed … Mum didn’t call me to come and pick her up so I thought Naomi must have brought her over.’ His face is guileless and if I hadn’t seen the message thread, seen the suitcase in the attic, then I would have no idea that he was planning to take the children. ‘What happened to the mirror? I noticed it wasn’t in the hall when I came home.’
‘I took it out,’ I say. ‘It’s in the garden for you to take to the tip when you get a moment.’
‘I thought you loved that mirror?’ Rav frowns. �
��Are you sure you don’t want to try it in another room?’
I shake my head, my lips clamped together. I can’t tell him why I don’t want the mirror in the house. ‘I fancied a change.’
‘OK …’ Rav gives me a long look, while I rearrange my face to look as pleasantly normal as possible. ‘The mural looks really good by the way. Mina’s going to love it. What made you start the painting today – I thought you would have been exhausted after last night?’ As he finishes speaking his phone pings and he pulls it from his pocket, frowning down at the screen.
‘It was my mother’s idea,’ I say quietly as he stares at whatever message he has received. Is it from her?
‘What?’ Rav looks up from his phone and I can’t read the expression on his face.
‘She always wanted to paint a mural in my room, and I wouldn’t let her. It was her idea for me to paint one for Mina.’
Rav lays his phone on the table, and I think that for a moment his hands look a little shaky. He folds them in front of him as if he knows they are shaking too. ‘When … When did your mum suggest that?’
‘Does it matter?’ I don’t understand what the big deal is. I’m just trying to do something nice, something normal, although of course, I don’t say that to him.
‘I just wondered. You know it’s been a long time since you were able to speak to your mum, so this idea seems to have kind of come out of the blue.’
‘It’s not been that long at all actually.’
‘Allie, when did you speak to your mum last?’
He knows. He knows she’s been visiting me. I should have known he would have smelled her cigarette smoke. ‘Today. She told me today that I should paint a mural on Mina’s wall.’
Rav’s face changes colour, pale beneath his tanned skin and he looks for a moment as though he might be sick. I don’t understand what the problem is – it’s just a lick of paint on the walls. If he hates it that much, I’ll paint over it. I’ll do whatever he wants, as long as he doesn’t take them. ‘What did you say? Is that meant to be funny, Allie?’
‘I said, it was my mother’s idea for me to start painting the mural today. She suggested it.’
Rav stands, running his hand through his hair, never taking his eyes off me before he moves forward and crouches next to me. He covers my hand with his. ‘Allie, why would you say that?’
‘Because it’s true. She told me, here, in the garden today that I should start working on the mural for Mina.’
‘Allie …’ Rav pauses, takes a deep breath. ‘Allie, your mother couldn’t have told you to start painting the mural today. Al, your mother died almost two years ago.’
Chapter Thirty-Two
‘I knew that,’ I say shakily, pulling my hand out from his and pushing my chair back. I feel sick. ‘I knew that, I didn’t mean it. It was just a joke. No one gave me the idea, I just decided on my own.’
‘Allie …’
‘Sorry, I need to use the bathroom.’ I push past him, leaving him standing open mouthed as I head upstairs, locking the bathroom door behind me. She died almost two years ago … but how could she have been here today, when she is dead?
I run the tap, holding my hands beneath the icy stream before splashing it over my face. The shock of the chill helps to refocus my mind, bring me back to Earth. My mother was here, I know she was. I spoke to her, listened to her advice. I raise my eyes to the mirror, where my reflection stares back at me. My eyes are huge in my face and ringed with dark purplish circles from lack of sleep. My cheekbones are sharp and prominent, exaggerated by the recent weight loss, a daub of dark green paint staining the skin there. I can’t remember the last time I ate a full meal, can’t remember the last time I felt hungry. My skin is washed out, pale, almost corpse-like and my blonde hair lies flat against my scalp. If anyone looks as if they should be dead, it is me. I think of Rav’s words and try desperately to recall the last time I saw my mother before she appeared at my kitchen table just a matter of days ago. I would know, wouldn’t I? If she was dead.
She isn’t dead. She can’t be. I don’t remember a funeral – there would have been a funeral and I would have been there, as her only child. But I don’t remember it. I remember her apartment in Paris, and our last visit there when Mina was only a few months old. My mother wasn’t there, and I had wandered around her tiny flat, picking up ornaments and jewellery before laying them back in the precise spot I found them, not wanting to upset her by moving them. She is particular, my mother, and she would know if I had been touching her things. There had been a sense of loss in the apartment, a gaping hole in my heart. Rav had wanted to visit the Sacré-Coeur, the Eiffel Tower, all those touristy things that English people do when they visit France, but I had been too tired, unhappy, adjusting to life with a small child. There is a black cloud over the memory – Mina had been fractious and unsettled the entire weekend and I had ended up starting to bottle feed when we arrived home. Was it that that clouded the weekend? Or was it the absence of my mother, the knowledge that she was gone? Everything is a blur. I lean my forehead against the cold glass of the mirror, leaving a greasy smudge behind. As I pull away, I see her in the mirror, feel her breath on my cheek as her gaunt face is reflected next to mine. Agnes. She pulls her lips back in a semblance of a grin that shows uneven teeth, her stringy hair hanging limply on either side of her hollow cheeks as she moves her face towards mine, her lips forming words to whisper in my ear.
‘No!’ I gasp, squeezing my eyes closed as I grope with shaking hands for something, anything, to throw. My fingers close around the ceramic hand soap dispenser and I hurl it towards the mirror, opening my eyes in time to see my face shatter into fragments as the glass breaks into a thousand tiny pieces.
‘Allie? Are you all right in there?’ There is a pounding on the door, Rav’s voice filtering through. Rav. I grip the sides of the sink, staring down at the shards of glass that litter the porcelain. Rav is lying. My mother isn’t dead. Shock at the realization makes my throat close over and I cough before I can speak. ‘What’s going on? Was that glass I heard?’
‘I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute.’ My voice is strong, no hint of the shakiness I am feeling. He wants me to think I’m going mad, why else would he tell such an awful lie? If he makes me think that I am mad, that I am seeing things that aren’t there, then it will make it all the easier for him to take Mina and the baby. Mina and the baby. I can’t believe I left them crying like that – will he use it against me now? Will he say that the children are safer with him, that I am neglectful? All I wanted to do was show him that I am a good mother, that I love Mina and Leo. I have to get into his account again, I have to find out exactly what he is planning so that I can see how much time I have left, so I can stop him. You will figure it out. It is my mother’s voice I hear. Splashing my face once more, brushing away the tiny shards of glass that sit in my hair as my pulse ratchets in my ears, I throw open the door to see Rav still on the landing, his face wary.
‘Al?’ He steps towards me, slowly and gently with one hand out as if taming a wild horse. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘It’s … I’m OK. I got confused.’ The lie is already formulating on my lips. Two can play this game. ‘Did I say my mum? I meant your mum. Avó. Avó suggested getting Mina’s room painted. A good idea, hey?’ The landing is growing dim now, the sky outside darkened by thick clouds. The trees whisper to me, but I keep my attention on Rav.
‘Right. Yeah. My mum.’ Rav follows me as I walk down the stairs, into the sitting room. ‘Listen, Allie, I have to pop out, just for half an hour. Will you be OK?’
‘Of course, Rav, I’ll be fine.’ I reach for the remote, switch on the television. Some intense drama begins playing, a man shouting at a woman. ‘I’ll just watch some telly for a bit.’ I debate whether to ask him where he is going, even though I know he will only lie to me. Would I usually ask him? Yes, I think, the usual Allie would ask him, because the usual Rav very rarely goes out in the evenings
, not spontaneously anyway. ‘Where are you off to? I didn’t think you had anything planned.’
‘I … er, I’m just going to check on Mum. Seeing as I didn’t see her today.’ Rav stumbles over the words slightly, a blush appearing beneath the dark skin on his neck as he inadvertently glances upwards, to where the children are sleeping. ‘I won’t be very long – you stay there.’
‘OK.’ There is something off in the way he speaks to me, and I rearrange my features to mask the doubt that surely must be written all over my face. ‘I’ll wait up for you.’ Pasting on a smile, I turn back to the television, my mind going at nineteen to the dozen. If he’s gone, then I can check his account on the laptop. I wait until I hear the front door slam behind him.
Watching from the sitting-room window as Rav drives away, I make sure he really is gone before I grab the laptop and quickly sign into his account. I don’t know how long it will be before he returns from Avó’s, if indeed he has even gone to see her, so I work quickly, signing directly into his Gmail account. Straight away, I see I was right all along. He is going to take the children. A flight confirmation sits in his unread messages, from British Airways. I click on it, my fingers shaking, as I scan the contents. Two adults, two children, flying to Mumbai on June 23rd, with a connecting flight to Dabolim. The total price is at the bottom, with the details of the credit card he has paid on. It’s an American Express card, a card that he must have ordered without me knowing. I feel sick, dizzy, and I have to close my eyes and press my heels into the floor, to try and ground myself. How could he do this to me? My eyes ping open, and with a heavy heart I go back into his emails, trying to see what else I can uncover. There is nothing sinister – apart from the flight booking – and I sit there, letting the heat of the laptop battery burn into my thighs.