by L. V. Hay
Sebastian thought for moment. To all intents and purposes, this was a stalker app. As a head teacher at a school, Sebastian had heard about these. Some parents installed them on their kids’ phones, but he couldn’t see Lily doing that. Not only did she not have the technical know-how, she was a fierce believer in trusting kids to do the right thing.
Sebastian pressed Y on Denny’s phone. It took him to yet another screen and that was when a feeling of trepidation descended on him. The app was connected to a street map. On the map were various locations:
– The maisonette
– Avonwood School
– Epsom Common
– Epsom High Street
– The Cromwell Hospital
Plus, there were dotted lines; he realised they were journeys – to and from these locations. And each was labelled with a date. The earliest was three months ago.
Fury leaped into Sebastian’s throat. Now it was obvious who’d installed the stalker app: Maxwell. He’d had them all under surveillance, via Denny! Unbelievable. No wonder Maxwell had seemingly been able to ambush them at various intervals and get away unseen, like he had at the school fête!
Sebastian’s anger travelled from his throat into his chest. At the bottom of the map was a button: ADMINISTRATOR.
Sebastian tapped on the screen, expecting to see the administrator’s details: Maxwell’s name and number – clear digital proof of his guilt.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he saw a number he knew off by heart.
His mother’s.
Sebastian did not stop to digest this information. He raced out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He was on the landing before his scrambled thoughts could catch up with him. He cleared the small hallway and burst through his mother’s bedroom door, crashing inside without knocking.
As he staggered in, breathless, his outrage died on his tongue, and a second wave of shock replaced it.
He took in the sight of his mother sitting on the edge of the bed in her nightdress and housecoat. She was not wearing her now customary headscarf.
And the reason was, she didn’t need to: her long, dark hair fell in soft waves around her face, lightly touching her shoulders. Thick and glossy … and healthy.
Forty-one
‘You faked a cancer diagnosis?’
There was a crack in Sebastian’s voice as he spoke. Shock seemed to drench him like cold water. His mother froze, her eyes wide, her body language betraying panic, any explanation refusing to come to her lips. The air around Sebastian had an almost unreal quality, like he was trapped in some kind of strange dream or watching them both from above.
Then realisation flashed through his mind. ‘You and Maxwell were in this together!’ And as he said this, another connection fired in his brain. ‘Denny never wet the bed at all, did he? Or went missing at the fête! This was all an elaborate ruse to bring Maxwell and Lily together again!’
Still his mother said nothing. She seemed less panicked now. In her nightgown, she lacked her usual gravitas. And there was still something about her that was shrunken, not her usual self. She looked like a woman at the end of her rope.
Sebastian leaned against the wardrobe behind him. He felt faint; his limbs did not seem strong enough to hold him up. ‘I don’t understand. Why?’
Fran ripped her gaze from Sebastian’s. ‘Maxwell made me.’
Whatever Sebastian was expecting, it was not this. He had never known anyone make his mother do anything. ‘What do you mean?’
‘He said he would tell you about…’ His mother hid her face in her hands. ‘Oh God, I can’t bear to say it aloud!’
Fear hit Sebastian now, a dead weight in the pit of his stomach. ‘Tell me, Mum.’
Still, she concealed her face. Sebastian crouched next to her, placing both palms on her knees, imploring her to look at him. ‘Mum, you’re scaring me.’
Finally, Fran took her hands from her face. Her eyes were closed, as if she couldn’t bear to look at Sebastian. She took a deep gulp of air, her words rushing out:
‘He … he raped me.’
A chain reaction of thoughts and emotions raced through Sebastian’s mind. He felt like he’d been physically punched. Reeling, he grabbed his mother’s hands, as much to anchor himself as show his support for her.
‘When?’
‘After the wedding.’ She focused somewhere above Sebastian’s head. She could not meet his gaze.
‘On the actual day?’
Sebastian connected the dots straight away. ‘Oh God … when you called me at the airport?’
Self-disgust hit him. He’d still been in the UK too; he could have come back, comforted her, called the police and averted all of this. But he’d rejected the call – when his mother had needed him most!
Fran wiped a tear away from her pale cheek. ‘Yes, not long after you left. He called me, said Lily had left my number in case of emergencies, since I lived in Epsom too. He said Denny was ill, asked me if I could go to the pharmacy and bring round some Calpol for him. I was only too happy to oblige … I’m such an idiot!’
Tears tracked down Sebastian’s face now too. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘How could I?’ Fran hid her face in her hands. ‘You’d just got married. And Maxwell is Lily’s ex! What if she’d sided with him? He is the boy’s father…’
Disbelief flooded through Sebastian now. He couldn’t believe Lily would have called Fran a liar. Not about something as huge as rape. But just as quickly, doubt crept in: Lily had known Maxwell for years. She’d known Fran for only a matter of months. Plus, Fran would never have wanted to charge Maxwell; take the stand against him; have her business paraded in front of strangers. Fran was too proud, too private, for that. It was what Maxwell had been banking on.
Sebastian threw his arms around his mother. ‘Mum, I’m so sorry.’
But there was no recrimination on his mother’s face. ‘It’s not your fault.’
Sebastian’s sorrow now made way for anger; he could barely keep up with his emotions. His mother was right: there was only one person at fault.
Maxwell.
Sebastian staggered to his feet. Enough was enough.
‘I’m going to kill him.’
Fran’s eyes widened. ‘Darling, no!’
But Sebastian turned his back, shame following him out onto the landing. As she shuffled after him, begging him to reconsider, Sebastian knew he should stay with his mother; try and get her to go to the police. But he realised her pride would never allow that. This was why she had let Maxwell bully her into this ridiculous charade. Maxwell had planned this all along, waiting until Sebastian and Lily were out the picture to launch his first attack. Fran had been a pawn from the beginning.
Sebastian made it to the front door. The house had a selection of deadbolts and a chain, which he had to stop and disengage. He did not turn around as his mother caught up. She clutched at his shoulders, trying to turn him back towards her.
‘Sebastian, no. Please. I can’t have everyone knowing…!’
Guilt slammed into Sebastian next; he’d already guessed she wouldn’t like this, and he knew that he was going after Maxwell to satisfy his own sense of justice. He didn’t allow himself to look at his mother, for fear he would falter in his mission.
He shrugged her off and finally got the door open, then staggered outside into the night. There was a fine mist of rain, the kind that deceives, pasting hair to forehead in minutes. Sebastian paused to gulp the cool air, trying to still his erratic heartbeat.
‘Please, Sebastian!’ His mother was outside too now, barefoot on the damp front lawn.
‘He can’t get away with this!’ Sebastian bellowed.
His mother looked broken. The rain reduced her full hair to straggles around her thin face. ‘You can’t let him win!’
As Sebastian’s mind cleared, he realised that they had attracted the neighbours’ attention. Across the way, past the dead oak, lights were on. Curtains twitched. In the ho
use next door, a young woman in a purple dressing gown watched openly from an upstairs window. When she caught Sebastian’s eye, she gave him a glare and drew the curtains.
Sebastian opened his car door. ‘I’m just going to talk to him.’
‘We both know that’s not true.’
He slid into the driving seat and turned the keys in the ignition. His mother was illuminated by the headlights, as she placed both her hands on the bonnet.
‘Don’t leave me … Stay. Let’s talk about this!’ she shrieked through the windscreen.
Unable to move forwards without running her over, Sebastian crunched the gearstick into reverse. He rocketed the car backwards, too fast.
His mother crumpled to her knees as Sebastian almost backed straight into the dead tree. He did a hasty three-point turn and left his mother collapsed there, outside her house, a wraith lost in the night.
Forty-two
Arriving at Maxwell’s, Sebastian turned the engine off and breathed heavily, as if he’d been running. This was the house to which Maxwell had lured Fran – where he’d attacked her, presumably as Denny lay sleeping upstairs. Furious tears streamed down his face, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel.
Grinding his teeth, he lurched up the pathway, focusing on his anger, so he might use it. He pressed one finger on the bell and left it there, grabbing the door knocker at the same time and slamming it hard.
Lights went on upstairs, then a voice called: ‘All right, all right!’
Sebastian balled up his fist. The hallway light came on, then there was the clink of the chain and Maxwell pulled open his front door.
‘What the fu—?’
Before Maxwell could finish, Sebastian landed his fist square on his chin.
It was a lucky blow. Shocking pain reverberated back through Sebastian’s forearm towards his elbow, as his knuckles hit bone. Maxwell flew backwards, windmilling his arms. He grabbed Sebastian’s shirt collar as he fell, and, dazed from the direct hit, Sebastian followed his adversary to the floor, landing square on top of Maxwell’s bare chest.
‘Wondered when you would turn up,’ Maxwell snarled.
He recovered from the first blow in what felt like a microsecond. He bucked his hips and propelled Sebastian off him, easily, then drove his fist into one of Sebastian’s kidneys.
‘You’re a cunt, Maxwell,’ gasped Sebastian, trying to writhe away, as deep pain spread through his lower back.
He lay on the cold tiles gasping. Maxwell stood up, wobbly. He leaned against the doorframe.
‘You’re no match for me.’ His breaths were laboured, but triumph was painted across his face.
‘Too right.’ Sebastian pushed against the floor tiles and with difficulty sat up. ‘Fucking rapist!’
Maxwell raised an eyebrow. He seemed untroubled by Sebastian’s accusation. Then realisation crossed his features: ‘Good old Fran. Women will say literally anything to protect themselves. Too bad you never learned that. Besides, I didn’t have to force myself on her, she was all too willing.’
‘Liar!’ Sebastian shifted into a crouching position, still puffing. ‘I’ll kill you!’
‘No, you won’t.’ Maxwell enunciated his words like Sebastian would to one of the smaller children at school. ‘Face it. You’ve already lost. There are bigger forces than you at play here.’
‘Lily will never come back to you.’
Maxwell smirked. ‘We’ll see about that.’
‘She hates you!’
Maxwell emitted that hearty chuckle of his as he turned to walk back inside. ‘Well, you know what they say, bro … There’s a thin line between love and hate.’
With a roar, Sebastian launched himself at Maxwell’s knees. They both crashed across the threshold and into the hallway. As they connected with the tiles, Sebastian’s teeth crunched together. Blood filled his mouth as he bit his tongue.
But Maxwell was ready for Sebastian this time. He swiftly extricated his legs, then raised a fist and landed it on the back of Sebastian’s skull. Sebastian made a woozy grab for him and they rolled through the living-room door, pitching head over shoulder.
Sebastian came out on top, but as he did, something connected with his face – a piece of furniture. Excruciating pain spread from the bridge of his nose and a fountain of blood spurted out. Sebastian cupped his hands to his face, but red spots hit the cream carpet, a crimson contrast. A low moan escaped his lips.
He had nothing left.
Maxwell stood over him, the victor, holding onto the living-room wall for support. ‘You’re really not very good at this, mummy’s boy.’
Sebastian’s ears rang, his head full of white noise. He stood carefully, determined not to faint, holding his sleeve to his nose.
‘Fuck you!’ His words sounded nasal, muffled.
Maxwell indicated the front door, still wide open to the night sky. ‘Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.’
Humiliated, and wracked with pain, Sebastian stumbled out of Maxwell’s house and back towards his car.
Forty-three
In Sebastian’s dream, he was at school, the only adult in a sea of children. They poured out of the doors of the gym. But there were far too many of them, surely? They jostled and pushed against one another, their faces indistinct. For some reason, Sebastian was the only teacher there. He was looking for Denny, but couldn’t find him. He told the children not to run, but they ignored him. He grabbed at boys and girls as they ran, but they twisted out of his grip, falling back into the swarm.
A hand grabbed for his shoulders to turn him around. Before he saw her, he knew who it was: his mother. She looked up at him, smiling, but blood covered her hair and clothes.
‘Sebastian, you left me alone.’
He could barely take in the horror of it: her eyeball perched on the ocular socket, her teeth and tongue exposed.
‘What kind of son are you?’ Half her face was missing. Her skull was caved in; fragments of bone tangled in her matted hair.
He stared at her, horrified. ‘I’m sorry, Mum.’
‘It’s too late for that.’
The guilt enveloped him. His mother had told him her worst secret, the most shameful thing that could have happened to her, yet he’d left her alone. He’d been more intent on revenge than comforting her.
He awoke with a start. He was bent into an awkward shape behind the steering wheel of his car. He was parked in a layby on an anonymous side road, only hedgerows for company. He did not remember parking up, or falling asleep. He rubbed his shoulders, and stretched his neck. In a dopey stupor he stared at the darkness beyond the windscreen.
So, it was still night. He glanced at the red LED clock on the dashboard. It was just after half past one in the morning. He thought briefly about calling his mother, or Lily, but he’d left both of them on bad terms the previous evening. Surely both women were asleep by now? Even as these thoughts flickered through his mind, he knew what was really fuelling them: cowardice. He had no clue what to say to his wife or his mother. How the hell had it all got to this point?
As if in answer to his question, his phone started vibrating on the dashboard. Sebastian snatched it up eagerly, hoping Lily had decided to give him another chance. It was a text:
IF I CAN’T HAVE MY FAMILY, YOU DEFINITELY CAN’T.
The name on the screen: MAXWELL.
A sickening realisation hit Sebastian in the chest. This was a threat. And he had left Lily and Denny alone.
He had to get back to them, now.
Forty-four
I woke as the smoke alarm kicked in. I’d fallen asleep at the kitchen table. My brain was groggy, but it wasn’t from alcohol: I’d only had a couple of glasses after Sebastian had left earlier.
My nostrils flared: smoke.
It hung over the kitchen-diner like a deadly fog, making me feel sleepy. Panic coursed through me; black smoke poured from the stairwell. Tendrils of flames had already made their way up from below, into the living area. There wa
s a cracking of timber. Something – survival instinct, perhaps – flooded through me and I fell from the chair onto the floor, gratefully drawing the cleaner air into my lungs.
Denny! The hallway up to the second storey beyond was full of smoke. I could see nothing. But I knew I had to act fast; the more I dithered, the faster the fire would spread. Even though the maisonette was small and cramped, the distance between me and the upper-storey stairs felt like miles. My eyes streamed and my chest heaved as smoke cloyed in my throat. I crawled across the hallway tiles, trying to stay as low as I could. I moved forwards doggedly, elbows and knees up and down, fighting the urge to run, and moving into the heart of the fire. I couldn’t leave my boy behind. It was unthinkable.
I stiffened as I crashed headfirst into something. Blind, I reached out and discovered carpet, steps. The stairs – I’d found them, thank God. The air was a little clearer here. I scrambled up on my hands and knees, coughing violently. Disorientated, I almost turned left into our bedroom. Then I grabbed for Denny’s door and found him, sitting on his bed, awake and whimpering.
‘Mummy!’
‘It’s okay, darling, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.’ I made it up on to my knees, despite the pain in my chest. The air was still smoky in here, but the worst of the fire had not hit it yet. I tried to push Denny’s window up. Locked. Frustrated, I whacked my palm against the glass. Where the hell where the keys? Even if I knew, I’d never find them downstairs in the smoke. Now what?
I grabbed Denny’s hand and a towel he had abandoned on the floor the night before. We raced through into the bathroom, where I wetted it thoroughly under the cold tap. I grabbed another, this time for me, and did the same.
‘You keep this over your head, no matter what, okay?’ I blinked back tears, not just from the smoke, but fear for my child. ‘Now, it’s going to be very dark and scary down there. I need you to crawl with Mummy, on the floor, like a brave boy. You must stay with me. Do not stop. Do you understand?’