by Louise Stone
She moved towards me again. ‘Freya, there is no getting over this. Don’t you see, it’s all gone too far? I gave you a chance to stop seeing Robert, to focus on me again? But you didn’t, did you? I saw you. I saw you even meet him in here!’ She flung her arms from side to side. ‘This is my space. Mine and Keira’s. Not yours.’ She laughed again: a hollow sound. ‘So even when I’m not in your life you manage to mess things up!’
‘Zoe, I came here because Keira brought me here. She seemed genuinely not to know where you were.’
‘She was testing you. I told her to talk to you, see what you were willing to admit, see if you would apologise, stop seeing Robert.’ She shook her head. ‘But once again you failed.’
‘So you were behind the notes, the pictures, the videos? What about the cars?’
‘Keira painted them for me then went to your house to report it to Stephen.’
‘What about the Wyres?’ I blinked, pinching my forearms as if I could wake up from this horrible dream. ‘Your clothes were found in their woods.’
‘We planted them there. Wanted you to believe I was dead.’ She chewed her bottom lip. ‘I mean, I ran away and then it soon became apparent you didn’t care that much, so we took it further.’
‘Of course I cared, darling. I was so worried. So it was all made up? The video of you flirting with Jerry Wyre?’
Zoe nodded. ‘No, that was genuine. That was a genuine Truth or Dare, but it suddenly seemed an ingenious way to get you to think they had murdered me – or worse.’ She was telling me all of this in such a cool, dispassionate way I was suddenly reminded of Stephen and the fact that they were flesh and blood. This thought alone chilled me to the bone. I had seen how cold and calculating Stephen could be, and now I could only imagine what Zoe might do next.
‘And the second video,’ she continued, ‘once we had sussed what a great idea it was, we went back to the farmhouse, Keira filmed and it was what you saw, only Keira stopped filming when I came out thirty seconds later.’
I was shivering, freezing cold as the air took hold of my damp clothes and shoes, and as my daughter stood calmly in front of me, chilling me with her icy eyes and flat tone.
‘I know about the adoption papers, too, and the letter you wrote to Dad apologising for even thinking about adoption, trying to explain how you could do such a thing,’ she said, taking out a cigarette and lighting up as smoothly as Keira had done. When she caught my gaze, she laughed. ‘Smoking? Come on, Freya, the least of your worries now, don’t you think?’ She drew deeply on the cigarette and slowly exhaled. ‘Freya? Do you mind if I call you that? Only Mum doesn’t feel appropriate any more. Especially not since I’ve been addressing you as Freya in my letters.’
‘The adoption papers…’ I started to explain. ‘I was in a bad place. You have to understand, it was no reflection on you. I was doing it for you.’
‘For me?’ She rolled her eyes and allowed the light from my phone to drop a little. I couldn’t bear seeing my daughter’s face so void of expression. ‘You don’t put a child up for adoption for their benefit. No, you didn’t want me, end of.’
‘That is not true!’ I said, lifting the light again so that her face was illuminated once more. ‘I wanted you desperately, I wanted to be a better mother to you.’ I swallowed. ‘I wanted what was best for you. That’s what parents do, they make sacrifices for their children.’
She screwed her face up, her eyes disbelieving. ‘You’re such a liar.’
I fell to the ground, not caring any more, and sobbed, the phone bouncing out of my hand and across the ground. The light was immediately extinguished. ‘Zoe, please, I am telling you the truth! I had an affair with Robert because your father makes me feel like I’m worthless, because he shows me no love and I guess we all need love, don’t we?’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘we do. So why did you stop listening to me, why did you stop being around?’
I crawled forward over the muddy ground, my hands rubbing against grit and stones, towards Zoe’s shoes. My body was beaten, my mind even more so. The last few days of sleeplessness and loss of appetite had taken their toll.
‘Zoe, please, I will do anything to make it up to you. You have to believe me. I will stop seeing Robert. You are so much more important than him. I love you, Zoe.’ I looked up at her, my eyes glistening with tears.
Then, I saw her own tears. Her own lip trembling and I moved across the ground towards her, my head by her feet.
‘Mum?’ she said, barely a whisper.
‘Zoe?’ I looked up at her and she held out her hand.
I took it, my heart lifting and, as she helped pull me up off the dark, cold ground, I felt eternally grateful for this second chance, for the shift in her mood.
‘Zoe,’ I started, ‘please, let me make it up to you. Let me be there for you.’
She nodded slowly, bit her lip, and then I saw a look so familiar, it transported me back to a day years ago when I had been called into the head teacher’s office. Zoe had been eight. Stephen was away on business, again, and I was grateful for that because I knew he wouldn’t have been able to cope with the idea that his daughter was a bully. Or, at least, that was what the head teacher had called her. I had hugged Zoe close that day, but maybe I hadn’t hugged her close enough.
I looked at her now and instinctively drew her into my arms. She resisted at first and then relented, her slim frame moulding against me. I hung on to her, so grateful to have her back, so happy to see her alive.
‘Mum,’ she whispered.
‘Don’t. You don’t have to explain. I’m just glad to have you back.’
‘No, Mum, I’ve done something.’ I shifted slightly and held her at arm’s length. ‘I’ve done something really bad.’
‘What do you mean?’ I furrowed my brow. ‘You mean more than running away?’
Zoe started to cry, her long, dark hair falling forward and cascading around her face so that I couldn’t see her features any more.
‘Zoe?’ I tipped her face upwards with my forefinger and she immediately averted her eyes. A fluttering of panic moved up my throat once more and I searched her distant gaze for answers.
‘Before I came here…’ she started. ‘I was angry…’
My mind buzzed with a sudden shot of adrenaline. ‘Zoe, what did you do?’
‘I went to the house.’
‘Our house?’ I pushed.
Clouds shifted overhead, momentarily cloaking the moon.
‘Yeah, I went home and saw Dad through the front window; he was looking out.’ She sobbed and gasped for air. ‘He looked really lonely, Mum.’
I swallowed deeply, thinking about my last conversation with Stephen. The finality of it all.
‘At first, I thought, I’ve done that to him.’ Zoe finally brought her eyes around to meet mine. ‘But then I thought, no, you did it to him.’
I let out a shuddery breath. ‘Zoe…’
‘But then,’ she continued, almost unaware I had spoken, ‘I realised, no, that bastard has done it to himself.’
My head jerked backwards in surprise. ‘What?’
‘Yeah, I saw it, Mum. I saw his temper, I saw the way he tried to control you.’ She cocked her head to one side. ‘You thought you hid it from me but I saw it. I always have done.’ She paused and nodded, as if pieces of a jigsaw puzzle were falling into place. ‘He tried to buy my love. I never really questioned it until now, but then I think he just assumed he was the better parent.’
‘Zoe, what are you trying to say?’ My heart wouldn’t stop hammering. I could hear my pulse in my head. What had Zoe done? I didn’t want to push her, for fear of what she might do next.
‘Mum, let me finish,’ she said, irritation entering her voice.
‘Sorry.’ I stepped back, took a deep breath.
‘I found the adoption papers about the time I found out about you and Robert.’ She shook her head, sadness causing her shoulders to slump. ‘When I first saw them, I thought there had to be a
mistake. Then I wanted to confront you about it, but before I could I discovered you were having an affair with Robert.’ She scratched her cheek with her nails. ‘I was so angry, so hurt, I can’t even begin to explain. It felt like you didn’t care or love me at all.’ She clenched her jaw. ‘I wanted you to know how shit it feels to lose everything you thought you knew. I could have just had it out with you, but I knew you would have denied it, that it wouldn’t have changed anything anyway.’ She drew a breath. ‘I went after Robert, at a party. I wanted to meet him, to know what was so special about him that would make you choose him over me. I tried to flirt with him but he wouldn’t even look at me. He told me I was drunk, and put me in a taxi home.’ She swallowed. ‘But I didn’t go home. I’d heard some people talking about another party, so I went there instead. A guy…’ She looked away. ‘Well, you know about it now.’
I nodded, words moving fast around my head but unable to speak.
‘He didn’t…?’ I eventually said.
Zoe let out a brittle laugh. ‘No, I let him. More fool me.’
I nodded, pinning my arms to my side, though desperate to cuddle her once more.
‘Anyway, four weeks later, I found out I was pregnant. That was when I understood why you had signed those adoption papers. You felt the same fear I did.’
‘No,’ I shook my head vehemently. ‘It wasn’t like that at all. It’s hard to explain but I think depression took over, Zo. I loved you, I just didn’t know how to show it.’
I held out my hand to her but she ignored it.
‘Zo, please. I’m so sorry you found those papers. I wanted to destroy them; it was your father who kept them. I think he wanted to use them to control me.’
‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘I know. I had gone into his study that day, even though I know I’m not meant to…’ She laughed. ‘Not that any of it really matters any more. I went into his study to find my birth certificate, which I needed for that registration day I did at college in June. I saw the adoption papers on his desk, almost like he wanted me to find them.’
‘On his desk?’ I reeled, shocked again at how cruelly manipulative my own husband could be.
‘Yeah, so I pretended I hadn’t seen them.’ She paused. ‘Why would he just leave them out? If he really loved me? Even to get back at you. That’s pretty messed up.’
‘Zoe, have you done something to Dad?’ My head started to ring with fear, my mouth turning dry. What was she trying to say?
‘Well…’ She had slowed her voice right down, almost savouring her explanation. ‘I was confused for so long, finding out about you and Robert, and finding the adoption papers and wondering why Dad would leave them on his desk for me to see… So, I’ve come back, Mum, because we need to stick together.’
I nodded, hopeful tears glistening in my eyes. ‘Yes, exactly. You and me against the world.’
‘I don’t think you and Dad are meant to be together.’ She shook her head as if delivering a definitive decision. ‘Not after what he did.’
I nodded. ‘Well, we wanted to talk to you about that…’
She stepped towards me now. ‘Don’t worry, Mum. I’ve sorted it.’
‘What do you mean, you’ve sorted it?’ My mouth filled with saliva.
‘You shouldn’t be with Robert either.’ She giggled, a strange sound that struck a sudden fear into the pit of my stomach. ‘I mean, he makes you happy, but when you’re with him, there’s no room for me. Anyway, after he told the university about your affair and got you in trouble at work, I don’t see how you could ever forgive him anyway.’
I look at Zoe sharply.
‘Don’t worry, Mum, I’ve sorted it. Let’s go home and I’ll show you.’ She held out her hand and I took it, my palm clammy against her dry, assured skin.
‘Mum, I love you. That’s all you to have to remember.’ She smiled. ‘Running away made me realise how much I love you and how I’d do anything to protect you, as I know you will me.’
28
We walked quickly over the dewy grass, the park now deserted since the gates had been locked. We climbed back over the railings and my daughter led me to the taxi rank on St Giles where we got into the first available car. She flashed me a glorious smile that in any other situation or on any other occasion I would have relished. Only, now, my mind was whirring with what lay ahead.
We sat side by side in silence. The driver talked inanely about football and about some politician who had hit the news. It was clear he hadn’t recognised me or Zoe and I was grateful for that. I felt we needed this time alone without the media hype, without the police. If I could have captured that moment I would have. I wasn’t sure that anything would ever be the same again.
‘Zo,’ I whispered, ‘is everything okay? Is everything okay at home?’
She squeezed my hand. ‘More than okay, Mum.’
I nodded, looking back out at the shifting scenery as we moved from the city of Oxford further into the country, the orange lights slipping past us as we entered the black wilderness of trees and undulating lanes.
As we entered Chilcote, I held my breath. I wasn’t sure what I expected to see but everything appeared as normal and I took some heart in that.
We approached our house, passing the small cul-de-sac where our tainted cars sat, and pulled up outside. The house was dark except for one light upstairs. My eyes immediately flicked towards it, my stomach churning with dread.
‘Come on, Mum,’ Zoe said calmly, ‘can you pay the driver?’
I looked up and realised he had quoted the fare to me.
‘Sorry?’
‘That’ll be twenty-five, love.’
I didn’t even question the round number.
‘You all right? You seem a bit out of it,’ he quipped.
‘Mum.’ Zoe had got out and popped her head back into the car. ‘Come on, slow coach.’
I delivered a weak smile and got out on the other side, closing the door slowly. The taxi driver immediately drove off, giving us a wave.
Zoe came up alongside me and took my hand. ‘Come on, Mum.’
I wished Stephen would open the door. Why wasn’t he opening the door? Surely he would want to see us? My brain fizzed with unanswered questions. Had he already seen Zoe when she went to the house earlier? Surely he wouldn’t have let her out of his sight again?
Zoe and I walked up to the front door and she felt around her pocket for her key. It was as if we had just returned home from a shopping trip.
She deftly unlocked the door and pushed it open. We were greeted only by the hum of the fridge and the intermittent flashing of the smoke detector overhead.
‘Stephen?’ I called out, my voice breaking.
Zoe flicked on the overhead light in the kitchen and I walked in there, dazed. Only hours ago I had sat at the table confessing my affair with Robert. Now, it looked as if Stephen had cleaned up the broken glass, the whisky had been tidied away and a note lay on the table.
I moved closer, my legs threatening to give way.
My dearest Freya,
I am sorry. I just can’t bear the guilt any more. I’ve lost everything – you, our daughter, all our money – and I can’t go on. There’s nothing left, no savings and a pile of debt it would take a lifetime to repay. I wasn’t having an affair, Freya, I’m a gambler. I tried to stop so many times, but I couldn’t. I have gambled my family’s life away, and the shame is unbearable.
Please forgive me,
Stephen
I felt a sob mounting at the back of my throat and I looked at Zoe, fearful of what I had driven my husband to do. All those conferences, all those trips, and he was gambling! The lavish gifts, the secrecy about the household accounts – it all made sense now. How could I have been so blind? Was I so caught up in my own life that I had ignored my daughter and driven my husband to suicide?
‘No!’ I cried out as I ran from the kitchen and up the stairs, the only guiding light coming from the bedroom. As I pounded up the carpeted stairs, my foot caught
the edge and I fell forward onto the landing. I looked back to see Zoe standing calmly at the bottom of the stairs. As I brought my head in line with the master bedroom door, I saw Stephen’s shoes. A wail of despair left my mouth and I collapsed on the floor. I dragged myself over, desperate to save him, if I could.
Stephen lay on the floor, his face peaceful, as if he were having a rest, the blueish tinge around his mouth the only sign of death.
Then I noticed the bronze statue that normally sat on the mantelpiece in the living room, to one side, just peeping out from under the bed, inches from Stephen’s hand. Zoe had come up behind me and rested her hand on my shoulder.
‘Mum.’ She looked at her father with such dispassion, I felt sick.
‘Zoe…’ I started, needing answers.
‘I came home, saw Dad in the window, watched him for a while from outside.’ She delivered this news in staccato chunks as if to make it easier for me to digest. ‘I saw him writing a note, getting some whisky off the side and your pills from the drawer.’
She was right: I had barely noticed through shock that the blister pack of anxiety pills lay on the bed. Not one remained. The whisky was almost finished. He had overdosed on the very medicine that was meant to help someone through bad times.
‘You saw him do this and you do nothing?’
She shook her head. ‘I came upstairs and I watched him die.’
‘Zoe…’ I breathed through hot, heavy tears. ‘You could have…’
‘Don’t say it, Mum.’ Her voice hardened. ‘He was his own worst enemy.’
My eyes darted to the bronze figurine once more. ‘The statue? Is that from the living room?’
‘I’ll show you.’ She smiled.
Like a child, I followed obediently down the stairs and through to the living room. She rolled down her jumper sleeves and stopped at the entrance to the room.