by Linda Coles
“Okay, Dad,” they replied. Like two peas in a pod, two coffee beans in a jar. He smiled, despite himself. When they were finally out of earshot, Duncan leaned forward on the sofa, head lowered, hands hanging in front of him. He’d spent some time, while Sam had been upstairs, thinking through what he wanted to say, and the best way to say it. Now, his practiced words had gone astray, and he searched his head for some clear space. It was full of missing children it seemed, though not his two anymore.
“Sam,” he began. “We can’t go on like this. Today has been a disaster, a worrying, emotionally draining disaster. We both know that, and I’m not about to point the finger at you again. Let’s put it down to a bad experience, and one we’d both rather forget, I’m sure.” He looked up at her from under his brows. She was listening. He carried on. “But things have to change, and soon. Things between us haven’t been that great for some time now, since you lost your job probably, and I feel for you, really I do.”
Sam scoffed, “Oh, great. Thanks very much. Here we go again.”
“But that’s when things changed, Sam, like it or not. And I’m not prepared to go on as we have been. Either you clean your act up and sort yourself out, or I’m out of here. I mean it, Sam.” He was looking straight at her now, wondering what effect his words would have on her. There was no easy way to say he really wanted to leave, didn’t like what she’d become, so he’d stuck with the basics – for now.
But true to form, that was more than enough to set her off again.
“I don’t fucking believe it! You’re threatening to leave me and the kids because I lost my job? Are you that fucking mean?”
“That’s not what I said and you know it. I said things hadn’t been good since then but yes, if things don’t change, yes, I’m considering leaving.”
He watched as she leapt up from her spot and paced over to the window, then turned and faced him full on. Her eyes flamed with rage and spittle flew from her lips. So much venom, so much anger; she really did look like a woman possessed. Again.
“Well, if you’re that unhappy, why don’t you fuck off now, eh? You’re never around much anyway, so you may as well leave us. I’m sure one of the girls at work would let you stay on her sofa.” She paused and gave him an evil smile. “Or her bed. I’m sure Rochelle wouldn’t kick you out in a hurry.”
Duncan felt himself grow pale. Sure, he found Rochelle attractive; most men did. But he’d never done anything behind Sam’s back, ever. His family was precious to him and he’d scowled at other colleagues for playing away from home. It wasn’t right.
“Ah, come on, you know there’s never been anything going on there, or with anyone from work, or anyone else, full stop, actually.” He was starting to lose his cool, aware his voice was escalating in pitch and volume again. He didn’t want the girls to overhear his words but he wanted to respond, needed to.
“And you know that deep down. Sam, this is about us. You’ve got to clean your act up, get some help from someone, get your life back. All I see every time I come home is you in your nightclothes. You don’t look like you’ve even had a shower for a couple of days, and your anger has skyrocketed. Whatever I say, you fly into a rage so quickly, it’s frightening. What the hell has got in to you?” He took a breath and then carried on, momentum pushing him to complete what he had to say. “If things haven’t changed in one month’s time, I’m leaving. That gives you time to sort yourself out and at least be applying for a new job. After that, if there’s no change, I’m taking the girls with me and we’re leaving.” Duncan bowed his head.
Barely audible, Sam confirmed, “One month. Then you’re taking the girls.”
“Yes. And I’m deadly serious. We will leave.”
Wordlessly, Sam turned on her heel and ran back upstairs to the bedroom. Duncan heard the door slam once again and hung his head in despair. He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this.
Chapter Thirty-One
Sam was angry and upset all at the same time. In the privacy of the bedroom, she alternated between pacing with clenched fists and a screwed-up, furious face and sobbing in desperation, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was drained. Drained of energy and drained of feeling, though not for her children. Tired of pacing, Sam lay on the bed and buried her face in the pillow where she screamed out her frustration in short bursts, safe in the knowledge no one could hear her.
When the tears finally stopped, she stayed face down, eyes closed, waiting for the world to go away. What she wouldn’t do for some help right now, a little something to knock her out, something to numb her, if only for a couple of hours, but she had nothing left. The side pocket of her handbag was empty again. If she hadn’t taken her last six that morning, she’d have had something to take the edge off now, but they were gone. She couldn’t leave the house, she knew, so there was no way to get what she desperately needed, not yet anyway. No, she’d have to wait and slip out later when he’d gone to work. Maybe Anika would keep an eye on the girls for ten while she went. Yes, that’s what she’d do – drive out later tonight.
Safe in the knowledge she’d get some relief later, she turned over and stared up at the ceiling in the growing dusk. Winter days were so short; sometimes the sun never reached full brightness before fading away again in the late afternoon. Soon, the street lamps would come on again, giving her unlit room an eerie yellow-orange glow. In her head, she went over what Duncan had said. How could he have been so mean, show so little understanding of what she was going through? And now he’d given her an ultimatum – get sorted or he was leaving and taking Victoria and Jasmine with him. That was the part that stung the most: the thought of losing the girls, not having them by her side each day, not taking them to school and picking them up again, not going for burgers with them. It would be soul-destroying.
No, she needed to figure this out – get a job and get back into Duncan’s good books, show him she could change, that he could love her, be attracted to her again, that they’d both be all right, that they could be a proper functioning family again. And soon. Sam sat up on the bed with new energy, a new motivation, swung her legs over the edge and headed towards the bedroom door. She opened it quietly and stood listening for voices or movement, unsure how long she’d been lying on the bed. Maybe Duncan and the girls had gone out for pizza without her. Was she all alone?
She tiptoed across the landing towards the bathroom. Victoria’s door was wide open, the room empty, as was Jasmine’s. Maybe they were all downstairs. In the bathroom, she wiped her blotchy face and stood for a moment gazing at the woman who stared back from the mirror. Her mousy hair was greasy and lank, as Duncan had so eloquently pointed out earlier, her nightclothes faded and worn – she looked hideous. And she stank.
She padded out of the bathroom and quietly headed downstairs, hoping none of the boards would creak, holding her breath until she got to the bottom. There were no lights under doors, no flickering blue light of a TV screen, no sounds of any kind. She put her ear to the lounge door and heard nothing. She turned the handle and peered inside.
The room was indeed empty – they had all gone out. She was alone.
Sam let out a deep breath. “Thank fuck for that,” she said to the empty room, as she turned a lamp on in the corner. The clock on the wall said it was coming up to 4:30. It would be dark in a few minutes. She leaned towards the window to see if Duncan’s car was parked out the front or on the drive – both spaces were empty.
But had he just gone for pizza? Or had he packed a few things while she’d slept? Had she slept? With the sudden realization he could have already left, she flew from the lounge and back upstairs. She ran into Jasmine’s room and flung open the wardrobe. Frantically, she assessed the contents: backpack and shoes still there, clothing still there. She bolted into Victoria’s room; everything was still there, too. She let out another deep breath. Nothing was missing. They hadn’t gone for good. This time.
Her heart was still pounding. She realized she had been as terrified, just now
, as she had been earlier that morning when the girls had gone missing. No, this wouldn’t do at all. This was a feeling she never wanted to have again, one to be avoided at all costs. With a new feeling of determination, she headed back to the bathroom and a much-needed shower. If she was going to change the status quo at home, she needed to start right now. Nobody, not anybody, was going to take her children away from her. Not ever.
As steam filled the room and Sam stood under the hot water, another option came to her. A slight smile played on her mouth as it developed into something resembling a plan. Slowly she carried on soaping herself, replacing her sour smell with lemon zest, her idea filling her with fresh new hope. Her mother had always said there was more than one way to skin a cat, and Sam had just realized what that other way would be.
Get rid of Duncan.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Duncan and the girls were nearly home. They’d gone out for pizza together and then stopped off for ice cream. Victoria and Jasmine were side by side in their booster seats in the back seat. Patting her stomach, Victoria exclaimed, “I’m stuffed, Daddy. Do you think I’ll be sick?”
Laughing lightly, Duncan replied, “I hope not, because that would mean a waste of pizza and a messy car.”
Jasmine piped up, “And stinky too. You’d be stinky.”
Both girls began giggling, and Duncan joined in, shaking his head and thoroughly enjoying himself. As he turned into Clumber Road, he realized he hadn’t had so much fun in a while.
“We should do this more often, just the three of us. What do you say?”
A chorus of “Yeah!” filled the car as he pulled into the driveway and parked up. The girls leapt out of the vehicle and dashed to the front door. It opened, and Duncan saw Sam standing there. She was showered and dressed, he noted with surprise. Perhaps their conversation earlier had had an effect. He watched as she bent to give the girls a kiss on the cheek each as they passed through and stood to one side as Duncan approached.
“They look happy,” she said to him. “What did you do for dinner?”
“Pizza and ice cream – every kid’s dream.” He wasn’t frosty as he replied, but he wasn’t exactly warm either. “They might be on a sugar high for an hour or so but I figured today hadn’t been like any other and they deserved a treat.”
He carried on through to the lounge, gathering the girls’ coats to put back in the cupboard. The girls were fizzing with giggly energy; Jasmine was bouncing up and down on the sofa. Duncan hadn’t the heart to tell her to slow down so he ignored it.
“I’ll go and run you a bubble bath, then you can read for a while before sleep, okay?” he told them, to a chorus of groans. “I think you’ve had enough fun for one day, and reading is good for you, remember? It makes the brain bigger, so you get to be cleverer than the other kids at school.”
How many lies did parents tell their children while they were growing up, he mused? Father Christmas and the Easter Bunny were two straight off, never mind carrots making you see in the dark and crusts making curls in your hair. What hogwash. The biggest lie that Duncan had found out while growing up was there really wasn’t a tooth fairy either, having caught his dad putting money under his pillow in exchange for a tooth. He’d worked hard on dislodging it fully in anticipation of seeing what the tooth fairy looked like and hadn’t been expecting his dad that night. From then on, he’d questioned all of the major events a child looked forward to, his inquisitive mind demanding to know the real answers, and as his parents couldn’t come up with proof that any of these mythical beings did exist, that had been the end of that.
He herded the girls up the stairs and went into the bathroom to start running their bath. He focused on adding bubble gum-scented bubbles to the bath water and stared into them as they formed on the surface, steam rising and clinging to the window. By the time bath time had finished, the glass would be running rivers of moisture down onto the tiled sill like fresh tears pooling. Maybe the room could sense the emotion in the house. He swished the water round; the temperature was just right. Standing at the bathroom door, he called them both.
“Bath is ready – Victoria, Jasmine!”
As they trotted in and began to undress, he left the room to gather their nightclothes and give them some privacy. He let them bathe in peace, leaving the door open so he could hear them from the bedroom next door. When they were dried and dressed, he’d go back in.
He sat on the end of the bed and listened to their girl talk. They were seemingly unaware he was close by.
“Do you think Mummy is all right?” Jasmine asked.
“I think so. Grownups cry sometimes. I know Kate’s mum cries all the time – she told me.”
“Why?”
“Tummy ache sometimes, I think. Grownups get tummy ache too.”
“Oh.”
Duncan couldn’t help smiling at their naivety; they had so much yet to learn about life and growing up. He heard Sam climbing the stairs and he watched her as she put her head around the door and chatted briefly with them. To his surprise, she came and sat down next to him on the bed.
“Are you feeling a bit better?” he asked.
Without turning she replied that she was, that she had taken a shower and felt better, that she was sorry for yelling.
Duncan nodded mutely. After a couple of minutes of silence, he said, “I’m going into work for a couple of hours shortly. Will you be okay?”
“I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. I’ll probably be asleep when you get back. It’s been a draining day.”
“Yes, yes it has,” he agreed.
The girls came out of the bathroom, struggling into their nighties. Behind them, water gurgled noisily down the plughole.
“Right,” he told Sam. “I’ll say goodnight to them, and I’ll be off.”
When Sam heard the front door close behind him, she went back down the stairs to find her phone and dialled Anika’s number.
“Would you mind coming over for an hour? Only I need to pop out and Duncan is at work. The girls are both tucked up asleep.”
Anika asked if she was all right.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. I just need to nip to the all-night chemist.” She waited for Anika’s response.
“Great. See you soon.”
Sam knew that her youth, her swollen eyes and her haggard look meant the night chemist probably wouldn’t question handing over a packet of strong codeine-filled painkillers.
That was what she was banking on, anyway. But first she’d have to find a chemist who didn’t recognize her as a recent visitor.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Duncan left the house feeling a little brighter himself. He was pleased that Sam had had a shower and got dressed, even though it was nearly time to go back to bed. It was a start, though; he hoped his words had hit home.
The streets were dark save for the amber-yellow haze of the streetlights, and on a cold damp evening, there weren’t too many people out, on foot or otherwise. He was in the station car park and parked up in only a handful of minutes. He scanned the other vehicles to see who else was working and noticed Rochelle’s black Triumph motorbike sat in the corner. It always made him smile; she was the perfect type of woman to ride such a thing – hot, fast and not to be messed with. He pushed the thought away quickly. He needed to keep a clear head.
The corridor into the building was quiet as he headed to the squad room and his desk. Rochelle saw him arrive and sauntered over, her head cocked questioningly to one side.
“What are you doing here? We didn’t expect you in tonight.”
“I had to get out the house. And the girls are fine after their adventure so I thought I’d come in for a couple of hours. There are still a couple of children out there needing our help.” He gave a weak smile and Rochelle picked up on his vibe.
“I’m just headed to the canteen. Want a cuppa?”
“Why not? Then you can fill me in where you’re up to.”
“And you can fill me in on why the long fac
e,” she said knowingly.
Duncan lowered his head slightly. “That obvious, eh?”
“I’m a detective too, remember?”
“So you are. But save the interrogation, all right? I’ve had enough for one day.”
“We’ll see,” she said as they made their way towards the canteen. No matter the time, there was always the smell of coffee brewing or lingering food smells, sometimes good and sometimes, well, not so. Tonight, the odour of curry lingered in the air and Duncan remembered he hadn’t eaten. While the girls had stuffed themselves silly, he’d had no appetite; the stresses of their disappearance and then rowing with Sam had seen to that. But now his stomach was catching up with him.
“Have you eaten?” he asked Rochelle. “That curry smells good.”
“I had some earlier, but you go ahead. It wasn’t bad, actually.” She placed their order – a plate of chicken curry for Duncan, a mug of tea for herself. The cashier looked bored stiff, waiting for her shift to be up so she could go home. They made their way to a deserted table in the middle of the functional dining-cum-relaxation room and Duncan sat down heavily on a plastic chair. A ‘whoosh’ escaped his lungs involuntarily.
“So, what happened at home? You look like shit.”
Duncan smiled. Rochelle was never one to mince words. “You’re too kind. Just feeling pretty deflated and a little wrung out. The girls are safe and well…” Duncan let the sentence hang in the air.
“Go on,” Rochelle probed. “I can sense there’s more.”
“Sam and I are most certainly not.”
“How so? What happened this time?”
“I told her it was her fault they had gone. It was on her lookout and she dropped the ball completely.”
“Ouch. That wouldn’t have gone down well, I’m assuming.” Her tea arrived and she wrapped her hands around the mug like it was a comfort blanket and took a sip while the cashier informed Duncan his curry was en route. He watched the bored woman saunter back to the kitchen to await his plate for delivery. Absentmindedly, he wondered about her life for a moment or two, what she had to go home to. Did she have someone? Not everyone did. He was aware Rochelle had stopped chatting.