This was not the time for holding back.
‘What?’ I said, desperate to read his mind.
He turned away from me, facing the coffee table. His words came, slow and measured. ‘Are you sure? Did it really happen?’ His head hung low, his shoulders hunched, and he raised both hands to run his fingers through his hair.
A prickle of annoyance rose up inside me. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I don’t know. I’m just looking for answers. It’s so hard to believe.’ Still, he avoided my gaze. Why wouldn’t he look at me? Was he so ashamed of what I had become? Did he think that having an eating disorder made me a compulsive liar? My annoyance grew like a hot flame inside me, and I felt a stress rash break out on my chest. I had just poured my heart out and this was the best he could come up with? ‘You think I made this up?’ I spat the words. ‘You think I’m mad, is that it?’
I did not notice his clenched fists until he banged on the coffee table, making me squeak as I jumped.
‘For God’s sake,’ he roared, ‘it’s easier to accept that you’re spinning some wild tale than believing you’ve murdered someone on our land. How am I meant to take that in? You won’t even step on a spider! What are you not telling me?’ He swivelled to face me, placing his hands on my arms and giving them a shake. ‘Tell me! What really happened down there that day?’ His eyes were filled with fury. I had broken him – driven him too far. This was a side of Alex I had not seen before. He could be overprotective sometimes, but he had never frightened me. His eyes widened as he registered the shock on my face, and he suddenly dropped his hands. As if someone had clicked their fingers, the fury faded. ‘I . . . I’m sorry. It’s a lot to take in.’
I wanted to tell him that I understood, that sometimes the basest instinct in our human nature takes control. When all you have is threatened, it’s only natural to lash out. But my tongue felt like it was glued to the roof of my mouth, and I was concerned that his outburst may have awoken our sleeping son. I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling suddenly cold. Seconds passed, and all I could hear was the swish of the wind blowing down the fireplace, whose flames had been extinguished hours ago. With sharp snapping teeth, the chilling breeze invaded my territory. When I spoke, my voice no longer sounded like my own. ‘If you want to leave me then I understand. You didn’t sign up for this when you married me.’ I doubled over, unable to keep my emotions in check any longer. I clenched my hands, biting into my fist as tears overtook me. It was a horrible, strange habit I had picked up as a child, a way to silence my tears as I cried myself to sleep at night.
At last, Alex wrapped his arms around my shoulders and drew me to him. ‘It’s over. It’s going to be all right.’ But his voice was brittle. He sounded scared, which frightened me even more. He gently took my hand from my mouth, my saliva forming in long threads as it stretched from my lips to my knuckles. I blinked away my tears, seeing the indentations of my teeth in my skin. Sometimes I really didn’t know my own strength.
‘Tomorrow,’ he said, ‘I’ll go there alone.’
I could not speak. Could I bear to imagine my husband uncovering the corpse of the man I had killed? Just by telling him, I had made him an accessory to murder, risking our son being left parentless, unprotected.
Alex held me close, both of us stiff with fear. ‘Are you sure he was dead?’ he whispered. ‘Maybe he was just unconscious. Perhaps he got up and walked away. Have you thought about that?’
How could I tell my husband that I would not let myself consider it because the thought of Luke being alive was more frightening than the thought of having killed him. If I told him that, then maybe he would wonder just how much of an accident it had been.
It was the first of many theories that he brought up. I barely remember getting into bed. I can only recall lying in the darkness, my head on my pillow as I stared up at the low beams of our ceiling. Silent tears streamed down the sides of my face, collecting in the shells of my ears. Finally, we both fell asleep.
I woke sometime later, the light of the moon strong and clear as the storm silenced at last. On the side of the bed was Alex, sitting with his head in his hands. Later I would wonder if I had imagined it. Perhaps I had imagined it all.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
LUKE
2002
I checked my texts one last time before I deleted them. It was a shame, really; a lot of pleasure could be gained from poring over Emma’s coquettish meanderings. Emma. The very thought of her drove a delicious shiver down my spine. It was what was unsaid that turned me on; I loved to read between the lines. It had been frustrating to go at such a slow pace, given the urgency of my needs. Soon autumn would turn to winter and I wanted to be with Emma before we broke up for Christmas and the new year. I had become an expert by now, having played the game from an early age. I tended to go for the introverted types, the ones most grateful for my attention. Nightclubs were easy pickings. You just singled out the drunk girl that was separated from her friends. The one who was too young to be there, who looked a little lost in the crowd. But Emma was different. She had real feelings for me. I wondered what love felt like. I’d heard people talk about it, but I’d never experienced it for myself.
The classroom was a whole other level and I was ready for the challenge. The risks were monumental, but that’s what made it so good. I knew the payoff would be worthwhile. I smiled as I scrolled through the texts. I kept mine to a minimum, to keep her on her toes.
Luke: Hey you, don’t forget to finish your homework for Monday.
Emma: Already done! Looking forward to showing you. x
Emma: Miss you. Wish I had art every day, even weekends x
Luke: Miss you too. More than you know x
Emma: Really? x
Emma: I’ve no idea why you’d miss me! ;-)
Luke: Who wouldn’t miss your gorgeous face?
Emma: You’re not so bad yourself ;-)
Luke: I’m going to Colchester Castle this weekend. Maybe see you there about 1. x
Emma: Great! I’ll bring my sketchpad. x
I arrived a few minutes late, so as not to appear too keen. She seemed as excited as a puppy when she saw me strolling towards her on the grass. Her grin lit up her face like a hundred-watt bulb, and all too late she tried to tone it down, though not before I caught something else in her expression – caution. The thought of getting closer to me both frightened and excited her. It was written all over her face. A shaft of golden sunlight beamed down on her spot and I noticed the two plastic cups and bottle of fizzy pop spread out on the picnic blanket amongst crisps, chocolate and shop-bought sandwiches. On her knees was her sketchpad, with some pencils next to her feet. She must have positioned herself carefully that day, out of the public eye as much as possible yet still visible enough for me to spot her when I arrived.
‘Fancy seeing you here,’ I said, squinting as I reached her.
‘Sir,’ she replied. ‘Would you like to join me? There’s plenty for two.’ She eagerly cleared a space for me to sit down. I sat on the blanket, briefly closing my eyes as I tilted my face to the sun.
‘What a gorgeous day,’ I said, enjoying the fading warmth of the sun on my skin. The weather was predicted to turn, and a cold snap was forecast for the days ahead. Such was life. Everything bright and dazzling turned cold and grey in the end. I opened my eyes to find Emma’s lingering gaze on my tight black T-shirt, which displayed my toned physique. Biting back my smile, I picked up the half-finished drawing of a nearby tree. It was mediocre at best but I looked at it as if it were a masterpiece.
‘That’s really good,’ I said, complimenting the shading that outlined the scene.
Emma shrugged off my admiration. My eyes glided over her figure as she talked about composition and lighting and I pretended to sound interested. Her short-sleeved dress was slightly baggy for her frame, as if she had lost weight since she bought it. I liked that it wasn’t too revealing. It would feel like I was unwrapping a present when I
finally got her undressed. A couple more meetings like this and she would be mine. ‘So why aren’t you out with your friends on a lovely day like this?’ I said, when she finally stopped talking about her picture.
‘I could ask you the same question,’ she replied, filling our disposable cups with fizzy drinks.
‘I asked first,’ I said. ‘Fallen out with your boyfriend, have you?’
‘I don’t have a boyfriend, or friends for that matter. But I’ve told you that already,’ she said sadly.
I nodded. ‘You did, but I can’t quite believe it. Someone as stunning as you, sitting here all alone. Do you play hard to get? Is that it?’
‘Stunning? Don’t make me laugh.’ Her gaze fell to her cup. ‘As for friends . . . I don’t like hanging out in groups of people. I never know what to say. And boys . . . I don’t know how to relate to them.’ She gave me a sideways glance. ‘You’re the only person I can talk to. I don’t want to be with anyone else.’
Silence descended and I watched the rise and fall of her chest as her inner turmoil quickened her breath.
I glanced around the park to ensure we weren’t being watched before leaning in towards her face. ‘If only you could see yourself as I do. You are beautiful, and one day you’ll realise that.’ My gaze roamed over her face, so young and trusting. Her lips parted as she leaned in towards me. ‘I really want to kiss you right now,’ I murmured under my breath.
‘Then do,’ she replied softly.
It took all of my willpower to draw back. Once, I might have given in to temptation there and then. But that was reckless and I knew from experience that now was not the time. ‘I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry,’ I said, rising from the ground. ‘Your phone, can I see it?’
Hurt and disbelief creased her features as she stared up at me. ‘I don’t understand, have I said something wrong?’
‘Your phone, have you got it?’ I said curtly, ignoring her distress.
Silently she slid it from her handbag and passed it over. I checked the texts; there were only a few. She had been getting rid of them just as she’d said she would. ‘This was a mistake,’ I said, deleting the final texts. ‘I can’t trust myself around you, Emma. You’re just a schoolgirl. It’s selfish of me to expect anything more.’
She clambered from the blanket, an ungainly teenager again. Tears spiked her eyes, her face flushed with emotion. ‘Please, sir, don’t go.’
My features were torn but inside I celebrated a minor victory. ‘I thought I could do this, but I can’t. I want to have a deeper relationship, but I don’t think you’re ready for such a commitment.’ I sighed, running my fingers through my hair as I scanned the park for onlookers. ‘You’re better off dating someone your own age – taking things slowly.’ I handed her back her phone. ‘I’ll always be here as your friend. But I don’t think we should be alone together.’ I exhaled at her expression, which was aghast. ‘You can’t see it, can you? You’re so unaware of your own sexuality. That’s what makes all this so wrong.’
‘I’m nearly sixteen,’ she said, swiping away the tears now trailing down her face. ‘I don’t want to lose you.’
My voice softened at her obvious distress. ‘And if you were a few years older and I weren’t your teacher then maybe we could be together. But I have to let you go. I’m sorry, Emma. I’m only thinking of you.’ Placing my arms around her, I gave her a parting hug. Deep down, I knew this was far from the end. Squeezing tightly, I allowed her to feel a teasing sense of security for a few seconds as she was encompassed in my strong grip. Then, dropping my arms, I turned and walked away.
CHAPTER TWENTY
EMMA
2002
Mug of tea in one hand, I glanced out through the crack in my bedroom door to check Dad wasn’t about before making the call. The house still smelled of the fish supper we had shared an hour before. I had appreciated his efforts at talking to me, but our conversation soon ran dry. I knew I would have more luck with my sister, but it was proving difficult to get her to pick up. I felt so torn. I had vowed to keep things to myself, but I could not bear feeling this way any more.
I exhaled in relief as my sister answered the phone, reeling off the name of the estate agency where she worked.
‘Tizzy, it’s me . . . Emma,’ I said, interrupting her flow.
A slight hesitation followed before she responded. ‘Sis? Are you OK?’
‘Yes,’ I said, feeling foolish. ‘I miss you. I was just wondering when you’re coming home for a visit. I called at your flat when I was in Colchester, but there was nobody home.’
‘Oh, did you? I’m in the middle of training and having to work weekends to make up for a staff shortfall too. Is there something wrong?’
‘Oh nothing, just boy trouble,’ I said, tears blurring my vision as I spoke. A physical ache rose in my chest and seemed to lodge in my throat. I hadn’t realised just how much I missed Theresa until now.
‘Ooh, has my little sister got a boyfriend?’ she said, her voice teasing. ‘Who is it? Timmy what’s-his-name? Or that George boy you told me about?’
I winced. These were boys from the youth club in Mersea that I had spoken about over a year ago. ‘No, it’s someone in my class.’ I wrapped my right hand around my mug, taking comfort from its warmth against my skin. Inhaling a deep breath, I tried to verbalise my problems. ‘How do you know if a guy likes you? I mean, really likes you? It’s so confusing. One minute they say they fancy me, but the next they’re being totally vile.’
Theresa chuckled. ‘Oh, you’re gonna get that at your age, I’m afraid. Boys take a lot longer to mature than girls. What’s he doing, blowing spitballs at you? Stealing your books?’
I stared unblinkingly into the distance, barely registering the view. ‘Not really,’ I said, wishing I could eloquently portray my feelings in words. I wanted to ask what it was like to have sex, and how it would feel the first time. I was clueless but not entirely stupid. I knew that’s what Mr Priestwood had meant when he said he couldn’t meet me alone. The concept of such intimacy frightened me, but the thoughts of losing him scared me more. I had heard girls in the school locker room talking about the ultimatums their boyfriends had given them: go all the way or get dumped. When I asked if they had given in, they had replied with a laugh and said ‘of course’. I knew that locker room talk could be wildly exaggerated, but it made me wonder if it were my fault just the same. It was me that was slow on the uptake. Perhaps now it was time to enter the modern world.
‘I’ve been getting on really well in art classes,’ I said tentatively, as I tried to broach my relationship with Luke. ‘Mr Priestwood’s really nice. Sometimes I see him in Colchester too.’
‘You’re better than me,’ Theresa laughed. ‘I was bunking off school at your age – teachers were the last people I wanted to see.’ A hint of caution entered her voice. ‘Are you sure it’s OK to be with him outside of class?’
I opened my mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Theresa’s urgent whispers.
‘Oh crap, my boss has just come in and he’s funny about me using the phone. I’ll pop over to see you as soon as I get some time off. Is that OK?’
‘Sure,’ I said, attempting to inject some cheer into my voice. The last thing I wanted was to be responsible for my sister getting into trouble at work. ‘And, Sis, I’m fine, don’t worry about me,’ I said, wiping away my silent tears. ‘I know what I have to do.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
EMMA
2017
I was awoken by the sound of giggling coming from the living room. I had not expected to hear it, given what had happened the night before. That was the beauty of having a child: life went on no matter what. Despite this, my heart was so heavy I could barely slip my feet into my fluffy slippers as I trudged out of my bedroom in my dressing gown. I took a soothing breath before pushing open the door of the living room. I had this. I was still in control. I thought about the breakfast my husband would insist I eat. The last thing I wanted toda
y was food. As I stood with my fingers on the door handle, my stomach churned with the burden of my recent confession. I could not believe that I had finally done it. I listened to my husband and child laughing on the other side of the door, and smiled in spite of myself. I struggled to remember the happy days in my childhood, but then I had been hard to get through to. I did not want that for my son. He needed to know that there were people around him who loved him. People who would never leave him or let him down. I would have to pull myself together. Alex was still here, despite everything I had told him.
As I opened the living-room door, the sight of my son instantly warmed my heart. Sundays were family time and Alex and Jamie had already begun. They were sitting at the coffee table, their heads side by side as they played the pie game. A timer buzzed as a plastic hand laden with squirty cream threatened to splat the loser and a loud clacking noise sounded as each frantically pressed the button to guide the hand towards the other. I watched Alex ease off pressing the button, putting himself in range. Jamie was almost in convulsions he was laughing so hard. As the cream hit Alex’s unshaven face, he looked so ridiculous I could not help but join in. Alex licked the cream and rubbed the remainder away with a tea towel. He caught my eye and a flicker of regret passed between us. It was still there, the horror of what I had done. But he was doing everything he could to make our son’s life as normal as possible and I loved him for it.
‘It’s your turn, Mummy,’ Jamie squeaked, and I knelt down to join him, squeezing my eyes tightly shut. By the time we had finished our game we had all experienced the joy of a cream pie. But I was the only one who had not tasted it. My memory of my encounter with the cream cake the night before made me feel sick. This time I kept my lips tightly closed as I wiped the offending substance away. It was all about maintaining self-control. Right now, that was something I needed more than ever.
Speaking in front of Jamie was not an option. Instead, we skirted around each other, ignoring the elephant in the room until our son went down for his afternoon nap. I had smothered him in kisses, absorbing his goodness to make up for the lack of my own.
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