“Em—”
“Don’t you trust me to know?”
“Emma.” His voice was calmer now. The deep tone caught my attention and my body reacted in a physical way. I shook my head, passing it off as leftover feelings from when we were teenagers. I’d always loved Rob’s deep, velvety voice. “I do trust you. You’re one of the few people in this world I’d trust with my life.”
“Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming on?”
“I don’t think you see him the way others see him. Don’t you remember how at school some of the girls called him ‘perv’ because of the way he looked at them?”
“What? No! And how would that—”
“Emma, listen to me. This isn’t coming from a place of jealousy. I swear it. God knows I hate him because you love him, but this is me thinking rationally for a change. It’s possible. I know you don’t want to accept that, but if he doesn’t have a watertight alibi for the time Aiden disappeared it’s possible that he did this. Do you know where he is twenty-four hours a day?”
“No, but—”
“Then it’s possible.”
“You’re forgetting one thing, Rob.”
“What’s that?”
“Aiden. He was afraid when we went to Rough, which means he’s afraid of the place he was held captive, right?”
“I guess so.”
“With that logic, he must also be afraid of the person who kidnapped him.”
Rob sighed.
“Aiden and Jake have lived in the house for days now. He’s never shown any fear towards Jake. The first night here they set the table together. In fact, Aiden seems to really like Jake. He’ll follow him around doing everything he says.”
“Emma, don’t you see how that’s strange? If Aiden has more of an attachment to Jake than anyone else then that’s fucking weird on its own. Look, this is really hard to say but I’m just going to say it.”
“What?”
“Aiden was with this person for ten years. We don’t know what happened between the two of them. I’ve been reading up about Stockholm syndrome and all that stuff. Abusers and victims have a complicated relationship—”
“No. This isn’t like that. No.” I shook my head. I was on my feet now, clenching and unclenching one hand. Denise watched me carefully so I turned my back on her.
“There’s a chance that Aiden hasn’t seen anyone apart from the person who took him. Like that girl in Germany or wherever. There’s a chance that the only person Aiden remembers from his childhood is the monster who took him, and there’s a chance that Aiden has developed a fondness for his attacker.”
“Fuck off, Rob. I can’t—”
“I think you should come and stay with me.”
“No. It’s not him.” I was crying now. Fat tears rolled down my cheeks.
“I don’t think the two of you are safe there. Stay with me. Please, Emma.”
“It’s not him.”
“You don’t know that. What if it is?”
“Rob, he’s my husband. I know him.”
“Those are the famous last words, aren’t they? ‘I know him. I love him.’ Don’t be that woman.”
I took in a deep, shaky breath. “And who’s to say you’re any better than him? You could be a monster too, for all I know. Everyone could be.”
I hung up.
“Are you okay, Emma?” Denise asked.
I wiped my eyes and nodded. Then I walked over to the window and opened the curtains an inch. The reporters were still there, waiting on the pavement outside the house. I hated them. They made me feel trapped inside my own home. With a flick of my wrist, the curtain was closed and I backed away. What was I going to do? Aiden sat on the sofa in our living room with his hands on his lap, watching the television. It was only when I turned around that I noticed the television was off. He’d been sat in silence watching nothing.
Though the heating was controlled by a thermostat, I still felt a chill creep up my spine, and I shivered. I thought of Rob’s words, not only about Jake, but also about Aiden and what he’d said about the kidnapper. Up until that moment I had been so sure Aiden would be terrified of the person who had stolen him from me. We knew Aiden had been chained, and we knew he had been abused. But what we didn’t know was what the abuser had said to him. Had he played mind games with my son? Had he spent the last ten years convincing Aiden that he was only person who loved him? What had they done to my little boy?
I couldn’t stand to be in the same room as my son. Not at that moment. I rushed out of the living room and hurried upstairs to lie down. But as I went into my bedroom and looked at the bed I shared with my husband, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Rob had said. I’d let him into my head, and a seed of doubt had been planted. Of course I’d seen wives in the press talking about how they’d had no idea their husband was a serial rapist, or a child molester, and, yes, there had been occasions when men had locked young girls or women up in a basement and sound-proofed it, living one life upstairs and another downstairs. But this was different. Ten years. How would that be possible? And wherever Aiden had been kept it was nowhere near Jake’s house. Jake would need to go to this hypothetical place every day, or at least every couple of days. But the only time Jake and I were apart was the adult learning art class he ran in York twice a week. He’d have no time.
The baby kicked me again and I rubbed my belly as I sank down onto the bed. My head was spinning with disparate thoughts. My ankles ached. My legs were tired. I knew that if I leaned back I would fall straight to sleep despite the stress of the day so far. But I didn’t do any of that. I picked up my phone and called the adult learning centre in York. I asked to book onto the Introduction to Art History course on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
“Absolutely. What name is it, please?”
“Amy Perry,” I lied.
“I should let you know that the usual tutor has taken some time off so we have a support tutor in place at the moment.”
“That’s okay. Who is the usual tutor?” I asked.
“Oh, sorry dear, I’m new and I don’t have that information to hand at the moment. We’re in the middle of changing our computer system and it’s all a little hectic here. But if you like I can arrange for a prospectus to be sent to you. It has the course information and contact details for your tutor.”
I agreed to have the prospectus sent straight away.
24
Jake tumbled into the house after hurrying away from the reporters. I watched him pull into the drive through a crack in the curtains, and he slammed the door so hard that I thought the glass panel might shatter. Aiden barely processed the loud noise, but Denise came hurrying through from the kitchen. I noticed she’d stayed later than usual. It was dark out and I had expected her to be on her way home by now.
“Fucking arseholes,” Jake exclaimed. “It’s bad enough I’m hounded by the police but now I have to be hounded by them, too.”
I bit my thumbnail as he came striding into the living room. His hair was dishevelled and his shirt was unbuttoned at the collar. His skin was flushed and his eyes were wide.
“Jake,” I said. “Not in front of Aiden.”
His eyes narrowed, but he glanced at Aiden before nodding.
“Are you all right?” I asked, aware of how stiff my voice sounded.
“Did you say anything to the reporters?” Denise asked.
Jake shook his head. “The fuckers wanted me to, but I didn’t give them the satisfaction. And, yes, I am all right, thanks for asking.”
I found myself rubbing my hands again. Then I started scratching at the sore skin on the fold next to my thumb. I shoved my hands deep into my jeans. “I couldn’t come with them all out there. A black transit van kept following me around all day today.”
“It’s all right,” Jake said. “I know you couldn’t come.” He pulled me into a tight embrace and whispered into my hair, “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve needed you all day.” Then he took my hand and led me over to the sofa and
sat me down next to him. “Emma, it was awful. They kept going over my statement, picking it apart. It was ten years ago, how am I supposed to remember? Everything was so blurry with the flood happening. I just don’t understand why they keep asking me these things.”
“It’s okay,” I said. I pulled him closer to me, but some of the adrenaline from earlier was still rushing through me. There was a part of me that wanted to push him away, not bring him closer. My skin prickled where he touched me. “It’s over now. They didn’t charge you with anything so you must have cleared up whatever issue they had.”
“They have nothing because I’ve done nothing.” Jake glared at Denise. “Maybe you can tell that to your mates down the station.”
Denise shuffled awkwardly from one foot to the other. “I think it’s probably time I headed home. I’m glad that everything has been sorted out, Mr. Hewitt.”
I noticed that Denise never called him Jake. Perhaps it was because Jake still carried the air of a teacher even when he was outside the classroom. Or perhaps it was because Denise didn’t feel completely comfortable around him. Or maybe it was more indicative of the patronising way she tried to pal up to me. Always calling me Emma and ‘popping the kettle on’. On the other hand, Marcus struck up the occasional conversation about cars or football—probably in the hope that it would ignite Jake’s attention and get him onside. It could be sickening at times.
The door closed behind her and I heard a few reporters speak to her as she made her way to her car down the street.
“They’ll get bored soon,” I said. “They’ll stop hanging around after dark soon anyway.”
Jake pulled me closer. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
I tried not to allow my body to stiffen, but all I could think about was Aiden sitting across the room from us. I tried to disentangle myself from Jake’s arms. “Hey, Aiden’s here, you know.”
Jake gave him the barest of glances. “Oh yeah.”
“Maybe we could stick the telly on for a while.”
“What, and watch more Disney? What is it this time? Aladdin? Sleeping Beauty? The boy’s sixteen. He doesn’t need to be subjected to more of that claptrap.”
“What happened at the police station?” I asked. “You’re far more agitated than I would be after being asked to clarify something simple.”
Spittle flew from his mouth when he answered. “How do you think it went? I knew what they were meaning when they asked me those questions. They were insinuating I did it. They think I could take a six-year-old boy. It’s disgusting.”
“What questions did they ask you?”
“What didn’t they ask me?” He sighed. “It was a breakdown, basically. They wanted to know every second of my whereabouts for the entire day. Of course it was impossible to answer. It was ten years ago and everyone was rushing around like a blue-arsed fly trying to find a dry classroom in that leaking cesspool of a school. I thought I’d been with Simon from IT for most of the day but apparently he says he wasn’t. I distinctly remember us going into E6 to check on the roof there. It’s all ridiculous. As if I would have even had time to do such a thing. Ten years!”
“That’s what I said.”
He pulled me closer and kissed me on the mouth. “My Emma. My beautiful wife. To think our little daughter will be here to meet us soon.”
I pushed him back. “Jake. Aiden’s here.”
“Aiden, dear boy,” he said, imitating a stereotypical public school teacher. “Perhaps it’s time for you to go to bed now. I have some things to discuss with your mum.”
“Actually, it is getting a bit late,” I said. “Maybe we should all go to bed.”
“Has he eaten?”
“Denise made him a sandwich.”
Aiden made his way out of the room, closing the door behind him. My heart sank to see the way he plodded along the floor with his stiff, cumbersome gait. It was getting a little better each day, but I wondered whether he would ever stride or run in the same way as the other young men and women.
“Where were we, Mrs. Price-Hewitt? Hmm, maybe one day we can ditch the Price.” He landed a few small kisses down my neck.
“Jake, come on. It’s been a horrible day. Can we just sit and chill for a bit?”
He pulled away and crossed one leg over the other in a fluid motion. From the way he held his body I could tell he was annoyed.
“It’s just… I’m so stressed out. And… look, we’ll have some sandwiches and watch an hour of TV and then see how we’re feeling, okay? I just need to decompress.” I started rubbing my hands again. “Someone keyed my car. I was at the doctor’s and this woman was talking to me—”
“Who keyed your car? Why were you at the doctor’s?”
“When I took Aiden to his therapy session yesterday, Dr Foster suggested I might need a check-up. When I was in the surgery, this woman started talking to me about Aiden and… I dunno… I think I snapped at her. She must have keyed the car on the way out. And then there was a transit van following me. I guess it was reporters. I lost my temper with them coming into the house.” By this point I was scratching the skin on my hands. Jake leaned forward and took them in his own.
“What about the doctor? What did she say? Are you all right? The baby?”
“I’m fine. Just a little bit of high blood pressure so I have some tablets to take.”
He kissed both hands and then let them go. “You need to rest. Why don’t you ask Rob to take Aiden for a few days? He can take on some of the responsibilities for a change.”
Mentioning Rob only made me think about the things he’d said over the phone. I couldn’t stand to think about Aiden somehow still connected to his kidnapper. But what if it was true? What if Aiden was even in touch with his kidnapper? Did Aiden know how to use a phone? Could he speak when I wasn’t around? I rubbed my eyes before letting my fingers run through my hair. Jake reached forward and took my arms, pulling me towards him.
When he kissed me, I kissed him back, but my body reacted on its own. My mind was elsewhere. I was considering everything I knew so far. I knew that Jake had been called in for questioning. I knew that the adult learning centre could not confirm that he worked there, but they did offer up a story in line with Jake’s personal life. He hadn’t been working at the centre since Aiden was found. He had been going to work at the school part-time but that was all. And I couldn’t stop thinking about how things had been with Jake before all this started. In fact, before I found out I was pregnant.
We’d been married for a year. Though we’d discussed the idea of a child, Jake had always said that there was no rush. He wanted to make sure I was ready after everything that had happened with Aiden. I thought it was sweet, and I’d agreed. I wasn’t even sure I wanted another child. It felt too much like replacing Aiden.
But after the honeymoon period a lot of things changed. After we’d filed the wedding pictures in an album and found ourselves lost in the routine of day-to-day living, something changed between us. Jake was very particular about how the house should look, and whenever I tried to buy a new ornament or rearrange the furniture to accommodate my own belongings, Jake didn’t like it. For a time I could see that he was trying to put up with these changes, but I saw the long hard look he gave the old pine desk I’d brought from my parents’ house. He made plenty of offhand comments about the paint marks and the coffee rings on the lid, and more than once jokingly suggested we put it in the garage.
Then one day I came home and in the place of my beloved childhood desk stood a brand new glass-topped monstrosity.
“Ta-da!” he had announced, standing next to the desk with his arms out wide.
I remember that it was a Saturday and I’d spent the morning with Josie in York. In fact, it had been Jake’s idea for me to go. Clearly, he’d wanted me out of the way so he could replace the desk. I had stood there, thin-lipped and tense, digging my thumbnail into the palm of my hand.
“Where’s my desk?” I asked.
“I bought you
a new one. It has—”
“Where’s my desk.”
It was probably the worst fight we’ve ever had. Jake had not thrown the desk out, as I had first feared. Instead, he’d created an art studio in the garage with the desk, my paints, my easel, and a bunch of my paintings. Once I had cooled down, I decided that it was nice to have my own space, even if it was relegated to the garage. In summer, the garage is the perfect place to paint. The sun streams in through the open shutter door.
But after the desk incident it was plain to see that the honeymoon period was over. Though Jake had always had a voracious appetite when it came to the bedroom, our night-time activities became a desperate way to convince ourselves that despite the constant bickering about who should do the washing up or whose turn it was to take the bin out, there was love at the core of our relationship.
I fell pregnant with Bump a few months after that, despite taking my birth control pills daily. And after I fell pregnant—which we called kismet because it was a happy accident—Jake rarely touched me. There was something about me being pregnant that turned him off. Even when the pregnancy hormones made me rage with sexual frustration he completely ignored me. He even slept in the spare bedroom half a dozen times, saying that I “clearly needed some space” which I decided was code for “satisfy yourself tonight, honey, I’m not in the mood”.
Jake did not like the way I looked as a pregnant woman. He was supportive. He rubbed my feet and made me cups of tea. He asked after the baby and checked that I was feeling okay. But he never touched my bump. Not ever. He never felt the baby kick. He was delighted to know that she was kicking, but he could not touch my bump. He said it made him feel nauseous but wouldn’t go into any further detail when I pressed the matter. Of course I found it a bit weird, but I had been creeped out about pregnancy at one point, and he was so supportive about everything else. He came to all the scans. He held my hand. He listened to the birth plan and took an interest in how to make it as safe and comfortable as we could. He could be quite protective about what I carried and how much I moved around. I used to jog three times a week, but once my belly began to get bigger, he found the thought of me tripping and landing on my stomach too much to bear. In the end I gave up the running in favour of yoga.
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