by Susan Lewis
‘I wouldn’t argue with that,’ he conceded, ‘I just ask you to keep in mind what she’s been through, and try not to add any further anxieties to those she’s already struggling with.’
Less moved than she appeared, Alex said, ‘Of course. I understand your concern, and please be assured I shall treat her as sensitively as possible.’ Unless I find out she’s doing anything to hurt that little girl. If she is I’m afraid I won’t be very sensitive at all.
Ottilie was sleeping. Brian had bathed her, put her to bed and read her a story. Now he was in his studio engrossed in his computer.
Erica was in front of the TV, her eyes fixed on the screen, filling her mind with someone else’s reality.
Switch on to switch off.
Grand Designs, A Place in the Sun, Escape to the Country. She enjoyed the property programmes; they conjured other worlds, unknown people, faraway places. Sometimes she climbed inside the set and felt the rain, the sun, the snow on her skin. It was always a great pity when she had to come back. If she could find a way to stay she’d never have to see Brian or Ottilie again.
She knew the social worker had wanted to come in earlier, because Brian had told her.
‘She’s going to carry on nosing around unless you do something to pull yourself together,’ he’d snapped at her angrily.
She hadn’t answered, because she’d had nothing to say.
‘Is that what you want, that she carries on coming here?’ he’d challenged.
‘I know it’s not what you want,’ she’d replied acidly.
He’d looked as though he wanted to hit her, but then his face had softened with pity as he’d said, ‘I know this is difficult for you, but I’m doing my best to help. You understand that, don’t you?’
She’d nodded, because she did understand – he brought her the medication she needed to keep her calm, to make her sleep, to quieten the voices in her head, the ones that told her she’d killed Jonathan and that she must do the same to Ottilie. He didn’t know about the orders she put in herself, the extra remedies for fear, paranoia, and the serotonin syndrome an online doctor had told her she had.
She wasn’t always afraid of the voices, only when they started screaming at her to walk up walls, or sail away in the sitting room, or squeeze herself down the plughole with all the bubbles and grime.
They were silent now; so was she.
On the table in front of her was the new tea set Brian had brought home for Ottilie. Before going to bed Ottilie had made pretend tea with the water she’d got from the outside tap, because unless she used a chair it was the only one she could reach. She’d put buttons on the plates as if they were biscuits, and tiny bits of screwed-up newspaper that Erica had presumed were cakes. She’d set four places: one for Boots, one for herself and one each for her mother and father. When Erica hadn’t picked up her cup Ottilie had brought it to her and set it down on an arm of the sofa.
It was still there, untouched.
Her mother had always hated it when Erica had behaved like a slave; yet she’d done her utmost to turn her into one.
Brian had played along with Ottilie’s game, but then Brian would. He played along with everything Ottilie did. She was his special girl, his princess, his second and last child.
He’d taken a very long time putting Ottilie to bed.
He’d looked flustered and hot when he’d come down again, as though he needed a shower, but he’d simply taken himself off to his shed – studio – and Erica didn’t expect to hear him come in again. She’d be in bed herself by then, in the room at the end of the landing, glad she’d never have to sleep with him again.
Hearing a noise behind her, she looked round to find Ottilie standing in the doorway hugging Boots to her narrow chest. She was wearing a thin nightie that had got hooked up at the front, exposing her baby-smooth legs. The bruises from her fall down the stairs were still there, but fading fast. ‘What’s the matter?’ Erica said sharply.
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ Ottilie answered in her whispery little voice.
Erica returned her eyes to the TV, saying nothing, so Ottilie climbed into an armchair and snuggled into a ball. Her big eyes stayed on her mother, but it was a long time before Erica looked back.
For several seconds they simply stared at one another.
In the end Erica said, ‘Stop it. Just stop.’
Immediately Ottilie lowered her eyes.
Erica got to her feet, walked to the window and back again. ‘You shouldn’t be here,’ she told Ottilie. ‘Go away.’
A single tear dropped on to one of Boots’s ears.
‘I don’t know what to do with you,’ Erica cried. ‘Stop sitting there like that. Go back to bed where I can’t see you.’
Obediently Ottilie got to her feet, and still clutching Boots padded out to the hall. Suddenly Erica swept up behind her, grabbing her arm and dragging her up the stairs. When they reached Ottilie’s room Erica shoved her on to the bed.
Ottilie stared up at her with frightened eyes.
‘Stop looking at me,’ Erica raged.
Ottilie quickly hid her face in Boots.
‘I can’t do anything,’ Erica shouted. ‘I can’t make them stop, all right,’ and clasping her hands to her head as the voices began shrilling again she stormed out of the room, unable to bear another moment alone with the monster on the bed.
Chapter Eleven
ALEX STILL HADN’T told anyone – apart from Tommy – about her break-up with Jason. It was easier to cope with that way, she’d decided, though it was a painful reminder of the fact that she wasn’t really close to anyone, didn’t even have a best friend. What was wrong with her, why couldn’t she seem to make any lasting relationships?
She might have talked to Gabby if Gabby weren’t so busy with the kids, but at least she was coming tomorrow. They could probably chat then, unless she ended up bringing the twins, which was highly likely because she usually did even when she said she was coming alone. There was always Aunt Sheila, of course, except the dear old soul was mortified by intense emotion unless it concerned horses, and lovely Mattie didn’t do much along the lines of intimacy at all. And confiding in any of the cast or crew of Gender Swap was completely out of the question. They’d only end up feeling sorry for her, or torn in their loyalties, at least while Jason was around, and she didn’t want that at all. It was important that everyone stayed focused on their performance, and went on being as friendly and natural with him as they’d always been. After all, it wasn’t as if he’d done anything wrong. Quite the reverse, in fact, because it was absolutely right that he should be with his family rather than with her.
She just wished it didn’t hurt so much, and that she wasn’t finding it so hard to stop wishing he’d come back. Harder still was watching now, as laughing and joking with the others he swung himself up on to the gantry to sort out the lights.
He’d texted first thing to remind her that he wasn’t going to let her down today, he’d just be a bit later arriving for the set-up than he’d expected, but Clive Woodley was going to stand in until he got there. She had no idea what had held him up, she only knew that his life was a closed book to her now and she had no business trying to open it.
As she busied herself about the hall, helping to set out the chairs, carry in the costumes or sort out the props, she felt sure no one would guess how she was feeling. She was as quick and lively about giving instructions as ever, managing to laugh in all the right places and even make the odd joke or two herself. It simply couldn’t be possible for anyone to tell that she was both loving and hating being near him, especially when she was forced to engage with him. Meeting his eyes was even more difficult than she’d feared, because seeing the concern and guilt reflected in his made the longing so intense it was almost impossible to bear.
Just thank goodness he wasn’t a cruel person – or maybe it might be easier if he was, at least then she could hate him and tell herself she was better off without him.
Seeing
him coming towards her now, she performed a rapid and stupid about turn to where she’d just left the WI women setting up the bar. She had to avoid speaking to him unless it was about the play, and even then it was much safer to do so while others were in earshot in case he was tempted to try and make it personal.
‘Alex,’ he said, coming up behind her, ‘can we have a word outside a minute?’
Feeling her heart wrench as she realised there was no escaping him without at least raising a few eyebrows, she kept her tone as light as his as she said, ‘OK, be right with you.’
Moments later she followed him out of the door, hugging her cardigan around her to keep out the cold, and making a big show of greeting Sarah Grant who’d warned them last week that she was going to be late joining them today.
‘I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it,’ Sarah teased, as she pushed her back against the door to go inside. ‘I hope you’re both coming to the pub after, it’s Johnny’s birthday, don’t forget.’
‘We haven’t,’ Alex assured her, ‘he won’t let us.’
Laughing, Sarah disappeared inside, and as Jason’s eyes came to hers Alex felt the heaviness in her heart pulling down her smile. She didn’t want to be alone with him like this, and yet what she really wanted was for him to sweep her into his arms and say he’d made a terrible mistake.
‘Are you OK?’ they both asked at the same time, though in quite different tones. Hers was much more inquisitive and light-hearted, while his was loaded with concern.
‘Yeah, I’m great,’ she assured him, trying to quash his guilt with the implication of why shouldn’t I be? ‘Everything seems to be going to plan. The audience should start arriving any minute.’
It was impossible to know what he was thinking as he gazed searchingly into her eyes, but whatever it was she realised he’d decided to take his cue from her as he said, ‘I guess it’s still a sell-out?’
Not wanting to be skimming the surface like this, but knowing it would be disastrous to go any deeper, she replied, ‘As far as I know. Mattie hasn’t said any different. By the way, thanks for coming. I don’t suppose it was easy getting away.’
His eyes wouldn’t let go of hers. ‘It was OK,’ he said, as though it was something he was hardly thinking about. Then he added, ‘I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it to the pub after, though.’
Even though she’d expected it the disappointment crushed her, and to her dismay she felt tears burning her eyes. ‘That’s fine,’ she told him crisply. ‘In fact you can go now, if you like. I don’t want you to feel beholden ...’
‘I don’t ...’
‘I’m just saying. I know you want out ...’
‘Alex, don’t do this ...’
‘You’re the one who’s doing it,’ she almost shouted.
He turned his head aside, almost as though she’d slapped him.
She wished she had. At the same time, she wanted to run and run and never stop until she knew he was coming after her – or at least until she’d escaped the misery inside her. ‘I guess everyone will want to know where you are if you don’t come to the pub,’ she said, trying not to sound terse, ‘so our secret’ll be out. Well, I don’t suppose you particularly want it to be a secret anyway.’
Turning back to her, he said, ‘I want whatever you want.’
Her eyes flashed. ‘Well that’s blatantly not true,’ she declared, ‘and if you’re standing there feeling sorry for me then please don’t. I’m fine, better than fine in fact, because you were right when you said that we just fitted the bill for each other when we met. We both needed someone to help get us past all the stuff that was happening to us then. Now it’s all behind us, it definitely makes sense for us to move on.’
Though he seemed surprised, even hurt by her words, she could tell that he wasn’t quite believing her either, but what did it matter? She’d had enough now. If she stood here with him any longer she knew she’d end up saying or doing something she’d bitterly regret later.
‘Oh, just one thing before we go back in,’ she suddenly blurted, having no idea why she was bringing this up when she didn’t even really want to know the answer. ‘Last Sunday, when you took the children to stay at your mother’s, I guess you were at home really, with Gina?’
Though he didn’t answer, the guilt in his eyes was enough to confirm it, and furious with herself for even going there, she started back into the hall.
‘Wait,’ he said, catching her arm. ‘This isn’t easy for me either, you know. The way I feel about you ...’
‘Has nothing to do with anything,’ she interrupted fiercely. ‘So please let me go. We’ve got a show to put on and after that, I’ve got the rest of my life waiting for me.’
As she went inside she was cringing at her last comment, wanting to take it back, or at least make it sound less ridiculous. But what the hell? She had other things to think about now, and too bad if he wasn’t finding this easy either. He’d get over it, and no doubt a lot quicker than she would. So what? She’d survive. She only had to look at what had happened to her as a child to know that she’d already survived a lot worse.
So just watch me do it again, she was thinking as he came in behind her, and immediately she felt glad that she hadn’t blurted that out too.
‘Oh Alex, I don’t know how you stand it,’ Gabby wailed the following day as she came into the house. ‘I still miss them so much, don’t you, and when I look around the place it’s like any minute one of them’s going to walk in the door.’
Passing her a box of Kleenex as she went to pour the tea, Alex smiled tenderly as Gabby blew her nose in an effort to pull herself together.
‘I’m sorry,’ she gulped. ‘I guess you’re used to it, being here all the time, but for me ... I don’t know if I’ll ever be. All our memories are here, aren’t they? Everywhere I look reminds me of something to do with Mum or Dad, or both of them, and us, obviously. And coming past the church just now ... To think of them in the graveyard instead of inside at the service,’ her breath caught on another sob, ‘it seems so wrong, doesn’t it? Neither of them was even that old. I suppose I should just feel thankful they were around long enough to know their grandchildren, at least for a while.’
‘The twins meant the world to them,’ Alex assured her softly. And it was true, their parents had adored Phoebe and Jackson, and she was sure they’d have loved her children too, if she’d had any, though maybe not quite so much. Her father would never have let it show, of course, he’d always been too kind and too canny for that, but for their mother any child of Alex’s would have been just like Alex, at one remove from the actual family, and possibly even tainted by the killer’s genes.
Was that really what her adoptive mother had thought about her? She’d never actually said so, but it was the impression Alex had got, time after time, particularly in her turbulent teenage years.
‘I suppose it’s a bit easier for you,’ Gabby sniffed, ‘being adopted and everything, but I know you loved them, especially Dad. He was really special, wasn’t he?’
‘Definitely,’ Alex agreed, because he had been, in so many ways, especially with his flock who, she’d often suspected, mattered the most to him. However, she’d never be anything but thankful that she’d grown up with him as a father, rather than the monster whose blood ran in her veins. Chances were she’d never have grown up at all, left to him.
‘I guess all their stuff is still upstairs,’ Gabby said, starting to well up again. ‘I know I have to bring myself to go through it one of these days, but I’m absolutely dreading it.’
‘There’s no rush,’ Alex assured her. ‘It’s not as if it’s going anywhere.’
Gabby sat staring at her hands for a moment, and almost leapt with what seemed like relief as her mobile rang. ‘It’s Martin, I’d better take it,’ she said, and getting up from the table she took the phone into the sitting room and closed the door.
Surprised by her desire for privacy, since she normally talked into her mobile for the world
to hear, Alex set about washing the few dishes that had accumulated since last night. No doubt Gabby wanted to share this upsurge of grief with her husband so he could comfort her and remind her that she was still very much loved by him and their children. It would mean a lot to Gabby to hear it, Alex knew that, because Gabby had never been as secure in herself as she tried to make out.
‘You always cope with things so much better than I do,’ she frequently told Alex, more admiringly than grudgingly. ‘I know you never used to, when you were young and always going off on one, but now you’re like really together, at least most of the time, and when you consider where you came from and everything and all you’ve had to deal with ... I don’t think I could have stood it if I’d found out that Mum and Dad weren’t my real parents. It would have totally killed me.’
Alex knew that Gabby had never really understood what it had been like for her back then, and still didn’t, but it hardly mattered, because there was no need for her to understand at any deeper a level than she already did. Besides, there had never been any doubt in her mind that Gabby truly cared about her, and actually thought of her as a sister in spite of how difficult Alex had been with Myra for a while. There had been times when Gabby had even sided with her in arguments, as though borrowing the nerve to backchat, rant and rebel that hadn’t come to her naturally.
They were close, there was no doubt about that, but they were also very different and Alex couldn’t deny that sometimes she wished Gabby would make things a little less about herself. She’d always want to be supportive to her, that went without saying, and she was definitely interested in everything Gabby did, but there were times, like today, when she wouldn’t have minded Gabby taking a bit more of an interest in her. So far she hadn’t even asked how the show had gone last night (another triumph, everyone had declared as they’d repaired to the pub); nor had she stopped to wonder where Jason was today. She’d apparently taken it for granted that everything was totally chilled in Alex’s world, and that Alex had done whatever was necessary to make sure it was just the two of them for lunch.