by Shaun Hutson
‘Rob, please. You’ll wake Becky. I don’t want her to hear this.’
‘No, I bet you don’t. That would take some explaining, wouldn’t it? “Sorry to wake you, darling, but Dad’s a bit upset because the man who’s been fucking Mum has just tried to kill him.”’ He took another step towards her, and for a second she thought he was going to strike her. ‘I hope it was worth it. I hope he was good.’
‘It wasn’t like that,’ she snarled.
‘Well, what was it like,’ he roared. ‘Tell me.’
She saw tears in his eyes.
‘Wasn’t his fucking dick big enough?’ Rob continued venomously. ‘Didn’t he make you come? Is that why you finished it, or did you think that spreading your legs a few times was payment enough for him finding our daughter?’
He raised his hand and she stepped back involuntarily.
She saw the fury in his expression.
And the pain.
‘Now you know how I felt,’ she said, tears suddenly coursing down her cheeks. ‘Rob, I didn’t mean any of this to happen. I didn’t know what he was going to do. I was so mad at you because of what happened with that slag you worked with. But I didn’t have an affair with Adam Walker. I swear to you. Something happened, or nearly happened, but I stopped him. I didn’t have sex with him.’
‘And you expect me to believe that?’ he rasped.
The knot of muscles at the side of his jaw pulsed furiously.
‘That cunt came here, didn’t he?’ he growled. ‘He came to this house. I shook hands with him. I thanked him. And all the time he was fucking you. He was laughing at me. So were you, you fucking bitch.’ He pushed her to one side and wrenched open the sitting-room door, pounding up the stairs.
Hailey followed.
‘Rob, please,’ she called after him.
‘Keep away from me,’ he told her threateningly.
‘All right, call the police if you want to. Tell them who it was. Tell them what Walker’s been doing,’ she blurted.
‘No. You know him so fucking well, you sort it out.’
She saw him pull an overnight bag from one of the wardrobes. Watched as he hauled open drawers and cupboards, and stuffed clothes inside.
‘What are you doing?’ she wanted to know.
‘Getting away from you,’ he snarled.
‘Rob, please. Think what you’re doing.’
‘What I’m doing?’ he spat. ‘We spent time in those fucking Relate sessions trying to save a marriage that looks as if it wasn’t worth saving. I was supposed to be the bad guy. I was the one who was breaking up the happy home, wasn’t I? Until Mr Adam fucking Walker came along. If you’d kept your eye on Becky that day, none of this would ever have happened. Because then he wouldn’t have had to find her, and you wouldn’t have had to spread your fucking legs to thank him.’
He snatched up the bag and barged past her.
When they emerged on the landing, Becky was standing in the doorway of her room. She was clutching a small teddy bear and crying softly.
‘Dad,’ she said, her voice cracking.
He crossed to her and kissed her.
‘I’m going away for a while, sweetheart,’ he said softly. ‘Your mum will explain.’
He looked round and shot Hailey a scathing glance, then he made his way down the stairs.
‘Rob,’ Hailey called after him.
He slammed the front door behind him.
‘Why were you and Dad shouting?’ Becky wanted to know.
Hailey swept her up into her arms and held her tightly, both of them weeping.
‘Where’s Dad going?’ the little girl sobbed. ‘When is he coming back?’
Hailey wished she knew.
77
HAILEY LOOKED ACROSS at the glowing red digits on the radio alarm: 2.03 a.m.
Outside the storm had abated. The thunder and lightning replaced by rain spattering insistently on the windows.
In the bed beside her, Becky slept fitfully, tossing and turning in her sleep, occasionally moaning aloud. Some bad dream, Hailey assumed.
Like seeing her parents shouting at each other?
There had been lots of tears that night: from Becky and from herself. She had lied
(what the hell else was she supposed to do?)
about why Rob had left the house. Saying that he had been called away on business, and wasn’t sure when he’d be back.
The lie had worked for the time being.
It’s a pity not all lies work as effectively, isn’t it?
Becky had asked about the raised voices. Hailey had found it more difficult to explain that. Even now, she wondered if her daughter believed her. Only natural. She didn’t know what the hell to believe herself.
How many times had she looked across at the phone?
Who should she ring first? The police?
Tell them about Walker.
Frank Burnside?
Find out if Rob was staying there.
She swung herself out of bed and crossed to the window, peering out through the curtain of rain into the deserted street beyond.
Walker?
That was who she should be ringing.
The irony was not lost on her, but it didn’t force a smile. She didn’t know what would ever make her smile again after the events of the last few days. How long had she tried to avoid him? And now she needed to speak to him – wanted to.
Perhaps she should call Caroline Hacket. He might even be with her.
Then she looked back at the clock and remembered the ungodly hour. Any calls would have to wait until morning.
Wouldn’t they?
Hailey crossed to the bed and pulled the duvet up around Becky’s shoulders, then she bent down and kissed her little daughter on the cheek. Satisfied that she was well settled, Hailey edged out of the room and made her way downstairs.
She stood beside the phone in the hall for a moment, then picked up the receiver. Her index finger was shaking as she pressed the digits.
It was ringing.
She swallowed hard. Waiting.
Still it rang.
Put it down.
Two more rings and she’d try again tomorrow, when . . .
The phone was picked up.
‘Hello,’ said a voice thick with sleep.
‘Adam,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s me, Hailey Gibson.’
She transferred the phone to the other ear.
‘We need to talk,’ she said.
Silence.
‘Adam, are you still there?’ she persisted.
‘Talk about what?’ he said sleepily. ‘I thought it was all over between us.’ He coughed. ‘Besides, have you seen the time?’
‘Meet me on Friday,’ she said. ‘Please.’
‘Why not tomorrow?’ he wanted to know.
‘I’m too busy. Can you meet me, or not?’
Another silence.
‘Where?’ he asked.
‘The Happy Brig.’
‘Just like old times,’ he said, but the laugh that followed was grating and hollow. ‘I’ll be there.’
‘Adam . . .’
He hung up.
78
THE ROOM WAS small.
Rob had stayed in Travelodges before, so he knew what to expect: the basics. Bed, bathroom, TV, tea- and coffee-making facilities: that was about it.
He’d unpacked his meagre supply of clothes, and now he lay on the single bed gazing at the ceiling.
What a fucking night!
Almost killed by a nutter in a car, then discovering that his wife had been unfaithful with the man who had tried to kill him.
He rubbed both hands across his face and let out a deep sigh. Thoughts were still spinning around inside his head.
And, worse still, an idea was beginning to form that he could barely stand to entertain. What if Hailey had known that Walker planned to kill him?
He sat up slowly, the very thought almost unbearable.
What had gone on between Walker and his wife?
> Had his own affair with Sandy Bennett driven her to such lengths, such frenzies of rage? How far would she go to gain revenge on him? He knew he had hurt her, and hurt her badly.
But surely not this . . .?
She couldn’t want him dead.
Could she?
Rob swung himself off the bed and padded into the bathroom, slapping on the light.
The fluorescent light above the mirror sputtered into life and he studied his tortured reflection. His red-rimmed eyes, his pale skin.
He shook his head. His reflection imitated his movement.
The face he was gazing at was that of a man totally at the end of his tether. Shattered, drained, as if every emotion has been torn from him.
She had betrayed him with another man. Lied to him.
(As he had done to her)
But surely she would not have plotted to kill him? To rob their daughter of a father?
He refused to believe it, and yet there was something gnawing away at the back of his mind. Some cancerous thought that refused to leave him: a feeling of such terrible malignance that it ate into his subconscious.
He wouldn’t believe it.
He couldn’t.
Tears began to flow from his puffy eyes and he gripped the sink tightly, watching that tortured visage before him.
‘Why?’ he whispered.
He pushed his head forward, connecting with the mirror, pressing his flesh against the cold glass for a moment.
Then he drew back and repeated the action. Harder this time.
The impact left a small white mark on his flesh.
He held onto the sink so hard it seemed he might pull it off the wall.
For the third time he drove his head against the mirror – so hard this time that he felt momentarily dizzy. Still the tears ran down his cheeks.
‘Why?’ he said again as he did so. And the word was accompanied by an angry crack.
The mirror had splintered. The glass was split cleanly from top to bottom.
Rob studied his distorted reflection in it.
Saw the blood running down his face from the gash just below his hairline.
He watched as droplets of crimson fell into the sink and flowered.
Rob felt little pain from the wound. In fact he looked at it with something akin to bemusement, watching the red trickle coursing down his face as surely as the tears that still flowed from his eyes.
The real pain was inside him.
Inside his heart.
Inside his soul.
And it was excruciating.
79
HAILEY WAITED FOR the ringing phone to be picked up, the receiver of her own jammed between her shoulder and ear as she typed. The words flickered on the screen before her, but she hardly saw them.
She’d managed barely three hours’ sleep the previous night, and it felt as if someone had attached lead weights to her eyelids.
The phone continued to ring.
She sat back from her keyboard, stifling a yawn.
Perhaps later she’d ring Becky’s school and make sure she was OK. The child hadn’t wanted to go to school that morning, and there’d been more tears.
After last night, life looked like being one endless catalogue of tears again, she mused.
Still the phone was ringing.
The answerphone wasn’t switched on, so the person she sought was home. They just weren’t answering.
She was on the point of setting the receiver down.
‘Hello,’ said the voice.
‘Caroline, it’s Hailey. Sorry to interrupt you if you were working.’
There was a moment’s awkward silence.
‘I wasn’t sure if you and I were still talking,’ Caroline Hacket said.
‘I need to ask you something.’
‘Go on.’
‘Did you see Adam Walker last night?’
Hailey heard the weary intake of breath. ‘Just tell me, please,’ she persisted.
‘I could tell you to mind your own business.’
There was an edge to Caroline’s voice that Hailey hadn’t expected.
‘Please yourself,’ Hailey said defensively.
‘I could, but I won’t,’ Caroline insisted. ‘I saw him for lunch, OK? Why? What’s the problem now?’
‘I think he tried to kill Rob last night.’ She explained briefly.
‘Don’t be so bloody ridiculous,’ Caroline said finally. ‘It seems as if you’re trying to blame Adam for everything lately. You wanted him out of your life – and he’s gone. Why don’t you drop it?’
‘I told Rob what happened between Adam and me. Rob walked out and I don’t know where he’s gone.’
There was another silence.
‘Caroline . . .?’
‘I heard you. You can’t blame Adam for that.’
Hailey swallowed hard. ‘Are you seeing him tonight?’ she wanted to know.
‘Look, I’ve got to go,’ Caroline told her sharply. ‘I’ll speak to you later.’
She hung up.
Hailey slammed the receiver down and sat forward in her chair.
Her office door opened and she looked up.
Jim Marsh walked in, smiling.
The smile faded as he saw the expression on Hailey’s face.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Fine,’ she lied. ‘I just didn’t get much sleep last night. I’ve got those details on the gig and the party afterwards that you wanted.’
Marsh sat down opposite her. ‘Are you sure everything’s all right?’ he asked.
My husband was nearly killed last night, then he walked out on me. My closest friend is seeing the man who tried to kill him. My daughter is almost suicidal, and I’m close to a nervous breakdown. Everything is fan-fucking-tastic!
‘I told you, Jim, I’m just tired.’ She handed him a couple of pieces of paper. ‘The guest list for the gig, the travel arrangements, and the details of the party afterwards. I think everything’s covered.’
Marsh scanned the documents, nodding approvingly every now and then.
‘It looks fine,’ he said, smiling. ‘Are Rob and Becky looking forward to it?’
She felt the tears building.
‘Can’t wait,’ she said, her voice cracking slightly. She coughed. ‘Jim, would you mind if I left a bit earlier today? There’s a few things I’ve got to do.’
He nodded. ‘I thought you trusted me,’ he said quietly.
She looked puzzled.
‘How long have we known each other?’ Marsh continued. ‘Eight years?’
‘Jim, what are you getting at?’
‘I just thought that you’d let me help if I could. I know there’s something wrong. If there’s anything I can do . . .?’
She managed a smile.
‘I wish there was,’ Hailey told him. ‘But I’m the only one who can sort this out. Don’t worry, it won’t affect my work.’
‘For Christ’s sake,’ he said irritably. ‘Sod the work. You’d never let me down. I’d like to do something to help you for a change.’
Marsh got to his feet. ‘If you change your mind, you know where I am.’
‘Thanks, Jim, but, like I said, this is my problem. I’ve got to deal with it.’
‘Good luck.’
‘I think I’m going to need it.’
80
ROB GIBSON RAISED a hand to attract the barman’s attention. He picked at the bowl of peanuts before him while he waited for his glass to be refilled with Johnnie Walker. Once it had been, he sipped at the fiery liquid, feeling it burn its way to his stomach.
The pub was fairly quiet. Other than two or three youths gathered around a fruit machine in one corner, and another group of men about his own age playing pool just behind him, there wasn’t much activity inside the building.
Rob had been there for about an hour. He’d driven there straight from work.
Frank Burnside had tried to persuade him to leave the office earlier, but Rob had insisted he had work to com
plete, and allowed his partner to leave him alone in the solitude of BG Trucks.
There was work to do: there always was. And he was certainly in no rush to get back to the Travelodge. Hence the stop-off at the pub.
It was like many such places in and around the city centre, new, characterless and totally lacking in charm, but Rob hadn’t come in to enjoy the ambience. He sipped more of his whisky and looked around the bar disinterestedly.
There was a couple in their early twenties huddled in one corner over their drinks. Laughing and smiling, occasionally kissing. Rob watched them for a moment, until he became aware that the young man had noticed his intrusive stare and was meeting it almost challengingly.
Rob smiled, raised his glass in salute, and turned on his stool.
More peanuts. Another drink.
He was sure that he’d had too much already. He wasn’t drunk – nowhere near it – but it didn’t take too much to tip a breathalyser, did it? Just as well he wasn’t too far from the Travelodge. The last thing he needed at the moment was some over-zealous copper pulling him over for drink-driving.
What he’d needed last night was a fucking copper. One of the good old boys in blue to arrest the arsehole who’d been trying to kill him.
The arsehole who was shagging his wife.
Rob lowered his head, unwelcome thoughts spinning around in his mind.
Thoughts of infidelity.
Visions of Hailey on her back with her legs wrapped around some other bastard’s back.
Visions of her mouth on some other guy’s cock.
Doesn’t feel too good, does it? Boot on the other foot and all that shit. How do you like it? Can you imagine what Hailey felt like whenever she thought about you and Sandy?
Sandy?
For insane seconds after he’d first left his own house the night before, he’d contemplated driving over to her flat.
Revenge?
Revenge for revenge? Remember who started this little merry-go-round of infidelity going. Take a bow, Rob Gibson.
He downed what was left in his glass and looked at the empty tumbler.
One more?
Rob ran a hand through his hair and looked up, catching sight of his reflection in the mirror behind the bar.
He ordered a mineral water instead, to wash down the last few peanuts that he scraped from the bowl.
The clock at one end of the bar told him it was after ten.