‘I’m not saying I believe any of this, but what do you want from me?’ I said, as the few remaining drinkers made their way to the bar.
Luke masked a belch with his hand. ‘I thought about moving again, after I heard you were coming to Leeds. But I’m tired of hiding. I want to be able to move freely, without worrying what Emma’s going to do next. I could still go to the police but I prefer not to. In return for my silence, I want you to speak to her. Tell her that I don’t want her coming to the art gallery. If she sees me out and about, she’s to steer well clear.’
‘I’ll speak to her,’ I said, ‘when the time is right. But it works both ways. If I see you anywhere near my wife . . . I’ll finish what she started.’
Luke rose from his seat, his expression neutral. ‘You don’t need to worry about that. The only reason I’ve kept tabs on Emma is to make sure she’s nowhere near me.’
‘Then we understand each other,’ I said, touching his arm as he turned to leave. ‘Just one more thing. When you came back to see her . . . when was that?’
‘The date’s branded on my brain,’ he said, ‘October 2013.’
CHAPTER THIRTY
LUKE
2002
My phone dinged with another text and I did not have to look at the screen to know who it was. My siren, my temptress, my Emma. She was still sulking as I hadn’t mentioned her birthday the day before. Little did she know how much importance I had placed on her age. Silencing the engine, I plucked my phone from my pocket as I got out of the car. Whatever she texted, my response would be instant – this was not the time to be coy.
Emma: Everything OK? Sorry for being off with you. x
Luke: Silly. I can’t treat you differently in school xx
Emma: :-P xxx
Emma: OK I forgive you. <3 xxx
Luke: Can’t stop thinking about you. x
Emma: When can we meet? It’s been ages. You promised. xxx :-(
Luke: I’m here. Waiting. And I’ve got your present ;-)
Emma: Oh! Where are you? Xx
Luke: Wouldn’t you like to know. xx
Emma: Where? Tell me now!! XXX
Luke: At Dad’s beach hut in Mersea. Remember where I told you? x
Emma: Yes! I’ll be there in twenty xxxxx
I had already primed Emma by telling her about the place last week. She made it there in thirty minutes flat. I knew it was her from the on–off flicker of the light on her bike. It was late and the beach had long since cleared of dog walkers, the tang of salt on the cool, crisp November air. I had dangled the carrot. There would be nobody else here tonight. Just as I had planned. She found me sitting in the beach hut, apparently unaware of her arrival. ‘Oh,’ I said, opening the door. ‘I wasn’t sure if you were coming.’
‘I wasn’t sure myself,’ she said, panting lightly as she stood in the doorway. ‘Dad kept talking about some boring archaeology find on the news. In the end I said I was going to bed. I climbed out the window to get away.’
I chuckled in response, telling her to come inside. Dad’s beach hut was sparse but fit for purpose, housing a small gas cooker, a square wooden table, some cupboards and two chairs. Deck chairs were stacked in the corner behind the door, as well as some sandy buckets and spades that had not been discarded by our neighbours’ children when they’d used it for the day. I could not do much about the lack of heating, but I had cleared away any lingering cobwebs. In my experience, the appearance of spiders did not set a romantic tone.
‘I’m sorry about before,’ I said, offering a lazy smile as I gave her the once-over. She was wearing a baggy sweatshirt and denim skirt. I imagined the twilight breeze skimming the tops of her thighs as she cycled here to meet me in our secret meeting place.
‘You were only looking out for me,’ she said, catching my gaze.
I met her eye and smiled. I could not wait for ever. Soon we would be breaking up for Christmas and who knows how we would feel when the new term began?
‘Your present.’ I broke the silence by digging into my jacket pocket. The necklace was some cheap tat I’d picked up from the market, but she wasn’t to know. I stood behind her to put it on, before she had the chance to have a better look. She could examine it later, when it didn’t matter any more.
‘Ooh, it’s lovely,’ she said, touching the tiny sunflower dangling from the chain.
A trickle of sweat ran down my back but, given the cool night, it was Emma making me perspire. ‘Are you sure this is what you want?’ I said. ‘Really sure?’
Her attention on her necklace, she gave me an enquiring look, and it took several seconds for the penny to drop. ‘Now?’ she said, her words barely a whisper, and for a second I almost felt guilty for pushing her so fast. Almost.
‘Hey, don’t look so scared,’ I said softly. ‘Us, meeting like this, perhaps it was a mistake . . .’ I made my way towards the door.
‘Wait,’ she said, blocking my path. Leaning forward, she kissed me on the cheek. ‘Don’t go.’
Turning around, she closed the door and pulled across the bolt. The air seemed charged between us, and I parted my lips as my breath quickened in her presence. She knew why she had been summoned; nobody had forced her to come. Her earlier sulk in school would have stoked a feeling of guilt that she would be keen to dissolve. I reached forward, pulling the elastic band from her hair and allowing it to tumble down on to her shoulders. She gazed at me with a trust I did not deserve.
‘I love you,’ she whispered, and it did not come as a surprise.
It seemed only fair I should reciprocate, as saying anything less could put a dampener on what was to come. ‘I feel the same. You’re the only one for me,’ I said, and at that moment it was true. Pressing my lips upon hers, I kissed her hungrily on the mouth, my hands claiming her face, her neck, her shoulders. Her eyes were misty when we drew back for air and I questioned her a second time. ‘Are you sure? Really sure?’ I said, and felt a swell of satisfaction when she replied with a sudden nod of the head. ‘You haven’t done this before, have you?’ I said, stilled by the fear lighting up her eyes.
‘It’s what I want. More than anything,’ she replied. And that was how we progressed from our first kiss to something so much more.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
EMMA
2002
Cycling home from the beach hut, I struggled to see the road. I didn’t know why I was crying. My relationship with Luke had been sealed. We were a couple. It was too late to turn back now. I blinked hard in order to clear my vision. My tears were hot with frustration and shame. I had wanted Luke to treat me as an adult and he had. I wanted to keep him and this way I would. Nobody had put a gun to my head. So why did I feel so used?
Slipping into my room, I quickly undressed before pulling my long white nightdress over my head. Theresa had not followed up on my mention of meeting my teacher out of school, and there was no way I could tell her what had happened now. She still treated me like a twelve-year-old for starters. She’d be mortified if she knew what I had done. I kicked my clothes under the bed. I didn’t want to see them, the memory of my intimacy with Luke invoking further shame. It was no fairy-tale moment as I had imagined; indeed, it was over before it began. Tugging my clothes to one side, he had bitten my shoulder as his excitement mounted, and I had held on to the cold hard table, shocked and bewildered as he took control. Afterwards, the awkwardness between us was crippling, our professions of love a tainted memory. I had fixed my clothes, Luke checking his watch as he told me I should hurry home. My fold-up bicycle could have fitted in the boot of his car, but I was too embarrassed to ask for a lift. We were OK, weren’t we? Once again, I found myself wondering what I had done wrong.
I lay in bed, listening to the wind creeping through the old fireplace, staring at my mobile phone. After ten minutes of willing Luke to text, I took things into my own hands. It was a one-line text, in the hope of further communication.
Goodnight, love you xx
But no respons
e was returned. Thirty minutes later I pulled back the covers, wishing I could have a bath to ease the physical discomfort. Pacing the floor, I wished my sister were here to comfort me. I missed her so much it hurt. It had been so lovely earlier in the week, when we’d met up in town for my sixteenth birthday dinner. But a pizza restaurant was hardly the place to bare my soul. I touched my sunflower necklace, trying to comfort myself. I had Luke now. We were a couple. I would never be alone again. Lifting my feet on to the chair, I hugged my knees, waiting for a reply.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
ALEX
2017
After my conversation with Luke, everything I did was on autopilot. Leaving the pub, finding my key and sliding it into the hotel room door, even getting undressed. I didn’t remember anything because all my attention was on my son. Ever since Luke mentioned his relationship with my wife, suspicion had lurked in the back of my mind. Those blue eyes . . . they had triggered a spark of recognition. I could not focus on who was telling the truth because something far more troubling was plaguing my thoughts. I kicked off my duvet, allowing the air conditioning to chill my bare skin. I thought about Emma and Luke together and imagined our family being ripped apart. I didn’t want to believe Luke’s story and felt disloyal for its presence in my thoughts. Emma had not mentioned a sexual liaison between them, but there was an undercurrent of tension when she talked about that day. Luke’s parting shot was in the forefront of my brain. October 2013. It suggested just one thing. Betrayal.
I rose from my bed. There was no point in trying to sleep tonight. I switched on the kettle on the hotel room desk, tearing open the decaf coffee sachet into a cup. As I emptied the capsules of milk I saw Jamie’s face, the child we never thought we could have. Our fertility problems had consumed our marriage, and the strain on our relationship had been immense. It was nature, part of the driving need to reproduce. But it was my fault, not Emma’s. My weakness.
I thought back to when she fell pregnant. It had felt like our marriage had been given a reprieve. We would have done anything to make it work. She had gained weight, turned her back on her eating disorder, at least for a while. Wearily, I took a sip of coffee, briefly closing my eyes as I remembered the argument we’d had about a sperm donor at the time. I’d found her searching for clinics and donors online. When I’d snapped the lid of the laptop shut she had jumped as if it were a crocodile about to bite her. I desperately wanted a child but she simply could not see how small the suggestion of a sperm donor made me feel. Then, like a miracle, we conceived and Jamie was born the following June. Had she instigated contact with Luke? Slept with him just one more time? She knew every inch of her fertility cycle – but only because I had piled the pressure on. I could not accept the doctor’s prognosis of a low sperm count. I took another mouthful of coffee, trying to commit Luke’s words to memory. He instigated the injunction, not Emma, as she had implied. Why would she lie about such a thing? Backgrounds could be checked – couldn’t they? The same could be said for being in trouble with the police. Luke’s version of events was similar to Emma’s – but turned on its head. I felt disorientated, as if I was walking through a hall of mirrors. Had Emma gone off the rails after her mother left? Or was Luke lying, deliberately playing me to turn me against my wife? Wasn’t that what stalkers did? Tore apart their victims until there was nothing left? My thoughts tortured me.
I checked my watch. Jamie would be sleeping now. I pictured him dressed in his Superman onesie, his tousled blond hair falling over his face as he slept. Everybody said he looked like his mother. But I couldn’t see any of Emma in him. And his eyes . . . as blue as the sky. A throwback from a grandmother who had long since passed. At least, that’s what Emma had told me. A wave of nausea made itself known. I sat up on the bed, planting my bare feet firmly on the floor. The world felt like it was tilting, and I dug my fingers into the mattress as I clung on for dear life. I had to get to the bottom of it. Grief swept over me, pre-empting the results. In my mind, I had lost a child and a wife. What if Emma left me? My name was on the birth certificate but what rights did I have? Could I live with not knowing? If a DNA test proved Jamie wasn’t mine, where did that leave me then? I thought of my relationship with my father, his steady influence on my life. Jamie needed his dad. Emma was troubled at times – how would she cope on her own? Despite it all, I still loved her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
EMMA
2017
Postman Pat filled the air with a cheerful jingling tune as I replayed the latest episode for Jamie, who was nicely tucked up in his pyjamas under a blanket, a bowl of jelly on his lap. I had spent the evening cuddling him on the sofa, but as Alex pushed his key in the door, I could already feel the panic rising in my chest.
I met him in the hall, away from little ears. ‘You’re an hour late; I was worried sick,’ I said, despite his text telling me he had been delayed. It was only seven o’clock in the evening. I knew the train journey was horrendously long, but it did not stop me getting anxious as I awaited his return. Last night I had quickly come to, waking up on my bedroom floor. I knew it was the lack of food that had made me dizzy and faint so I had forced myself to eat some spoonfuls of dry cereal before bed. Spooked by the storm outside, I squeezed in beside Jamie, listening for every sound. Only as dawn filtered through his window blinds did I relax.
‘But I texted you. You said it was OK.’ He took one look at my face. ‘Is everything all right? Is Jamie—’
‘He’s fine.’ I cut off his sentence. ‘But I’m not – I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night.’ I looked him up and down. His crumpled clothes and the shadows under his eyes told me he hadn’t slept much either. ‘Had a good night, did you?’ I hated feeling this way, irritable and snappy. Alex worked hard and deserved a break. But last night had felt like a year without him. I rubbed the back of my neck, still feeling cold prickles after the silent call.
‘It was OK,’ he said, turning his gaze away from mine. ‘I could murder a coffee.’
‘Jamie’s in the living room.’ I sighed.
He threw me a smile, pressing his lips against my cheek in a belated greeting. But it was not before I caught the shadow crossing his face. I thought back to last night when I said I loved him, and he hadn’t responded. Just who had he been with? He had lots of old friends in Leeds – men and women. Was that why he couldn’t meet my gaze today? I inhaled a breath, telling myself not to be so paranoid. I had enough things to worry about, without adding infidelity to the list.
‘Daddy!’ Jamie exclaimed from the living room as I put on the kettle. ‘We’re adopting a polar bear!’ I walked to the open door, listening in on their conversation.
‘Really?’ Alex said. ‘Where’s he going to sleep then?’
‘No, silly,’ Jamie giggled. ‘He doesn’t live here. I get a teddy instead. I’m going to call him Snowy.’
I smiled. Jamie had just begun getting pocket money and had chosen to spend it on a donation to the WWF. Silently I padded back to the kitchen, feeling a swell of pride.
Twenty minutes later Alex followed me in, drawn by the smell of cooking which had carried into the hall.
‘You said you had a restless night?’ he said, gratefully taking his coffee.
‘Yes,’ I said, guarding my words. The last thing I wanted was to sound like some neurotic. ‘It was stormy. Jamie was asleep and the television was turned off. I heard a bang, and then something rapped against the windows.’
‘It’s not surprising you’re jumpy,’ Alex said. ‘But it was probably the storm. There’s always debris flying about.’
‘I had a silent phone call,’ I said, glancing over my shoulder after I turned his omelette in the frying pan.
Alex shrugged, his gaze on anywhere but me. ‘We’re so exposed here. The phone lines probably went down. You won’t know yourself when we move to the city. I’ve spoken to the vendor about that house I showed you online. It’s even nicer in real life. I wish you’d seen it with me.’
> I plastered on my brightest smile, but inside I was horrified. ‘I trust your judgement. Put an offer in. The sooner we’re away from here the better.’
Alex leaned his head to one side as he looked at me. ‘It’s really creeped you out, me being away, hasn’t it? Next time you’re both coming with me.’
I dragged my nails down my arm, feeling anxiety crawling beneath my skin. ‘I feel like I’m being watched. A bunch of sunflowers were delivered to the shop for me.’
‘Sunflowers? Perhaps they were from one of your clients,’ Alex said, masking a yawn.
I nodded, frowning at his apparent lack of concern. ‘You don’t seem that bothered.’
‘What? Sorry, love, I’m just tired and hungry. I didn’t sleep too well myself.’
‘I’ll make you some toast to go with this,’ I said, growing annoyed as I plated up his omelette. Why was he being so blasé? I turned to face him, my eyes narrowing. ‘The flowers. The phone call. It’s him. It has to be.’
Alex picked up his knife and fork. ‘I think you’re worrying over nothing.’
An open window was not enough to release the smell of cooking from our tiny kitchen, and I fanned the back door open and closed until fresh air invaded the room. I stood silently, my mind working overtime as I waited for the toast to pop up. I had lied to cover up my eating disorder in the past. Was I like the boy who cried wolf now? I couldn’t bear to see that look of disbelief on my husband’s face again.
‘Aren’t you going to join me?’ Alex said, briefly touching my hand.
‘Sure,’ I said, remembering my fainting attack last night. I had been slipping, losing myself to my eating disorder as I fought to regain control. I could not allow it to happen again.
‘Good,’ Alex said. Despite my reservations, there was concern in his eyes. ‘There’s too much here for me.’
I popped the toast on to a plate and plopped down in the chair. ‘I’m just worried. I don’t know what he’s going to do next.’
Silent Victim Page 11