I frowned. How could I tell her that after Emma’s confession? Such a declaration would feel like a lie. ‘What happened to Jamie . . . he could have died. I should have been there. Why didn’t she call me?’ The memory stabbed my heart. ‘I’ve never done anything to make her scared of me.’
‘You’re looking at it from the wrong perspective. It’s not about you. It’s about what’s going on in here.’ Theresa tapped the side of her forehead. ‘Besides, you need to be talking to each other, not me.’ She gave me a look that suggested she knew more than she was letting on. I knew I was pushing the boundaries of our friendship, going behind Emma’s back for advice.
‘She’s not sleeping,’ I said, my voice wracked with concern. ‘And when she does, she’s plagued with nightmares. She’s paranoid too, thinks the world is out to get her. I’ve searched online. Apparently, eating disorders can be sparked by mental health problems. What if there’s a more serious underlying cause? I can’t relax when she’s with Jamie. I’m scared of what might happen when they’re alone.’
‘What are you going to do? Keep her under house arrest?’ Theresa said.
I thought of how difficult I’d found it to let Emma take Jamie to school that morning. ‘Of course not. I just want to keep both of them safe.’
Theresa nodded glumly. ‘I’ve spoken to her about her eating, but I’m not sure if she’s in control any more.’
My throat felt tight as I swallowed and I took a mouthful of coffee to ease the passage of my words. ‘I knew she had problems when she was young but I didn’t realise the full extent. And all this stuff with Luke. She thinks he’s coming to get her. Do you think he could be stalking her again after all these years?’ I wanted to tell her about my meeting in Leeds, but I needed to gauge her reaction. She was Emma’s sister, and her loyalty must surely be with her.
Theresa took my hand. ‘Come on now, that’s silly talk. Luke’s not back – Emma’s just being paranoid. You’re a strong man, Alex; you’ll get through this.’
I squared my shoulders. Theresa was right. I had to find a way to fix this. ‘I’d hoped that, when we moved, we could start again. But the nearer we get to leaving, the worse things become.’
‘You can’t walk away from your demons,’ Theresa said, her eyes glazing over. ‘They’ll catch up with you in the end.’ She seemed to snap out of her trance and took a deep breath. ‘I don’t make a habit of interfering in people’s relationships, but I’m not going to stand by and let everything fall apart.’
I rubbed my chin, feeling two-day-old bristles. I was in dire need of a shave. ‘She got a silent call when I was in Leeds. She said you had some sunflowers delivered to the shop too. She thinks history’s repeating itself and Luke is to blame for Jamie almost getting run over.’ At the mention of this, Theresa’s face turned grim.
‘She told you all that?’ She frowned. ‘You don’t want her going back there. What happened with Luke affected us all.’
‘Well, she told me something,’ I said. ‘And I hate to say it, but I’m not sure how much of it is the truth.’ I repeated Emma’s account, apart from the murder, of course. I desperately wanted Theresa to say it was true, that her sister had been a victim in all of this. Perhaps then I could move on, forget about what Luke Priestwood had said, and put all thoughts of Jamie not being mine behind me.
Theresa sipped her coffee, her elbows at right angles, her body tense. As I finished the story, I searched her face for answers. Her jaw was set tight, her gaze on the table. I knew without asking that my wife had been lying to me.
‘The thing is,’ I said, ‘I’ve heard other things about Emma and Luke, and it’s a completely different account. Believe me, I’d love to forget the whole thing. But now it’s affecting our family – even social services are involved. I have to keep digging until I find out what’s going on. This is where I need your help. Nobody knows Emma like you do.’
Theresa shifted in her seat. ‘I can’t bear to see what’s happening to the three of you. But if you tell Emma what I’ve said, she won’t confide in me again.’
‘We both want what’s best for her. Please. You have my word. Whatever you tell me is strictly between us.’ I realised my voice was pleading, and in a way, I was dreading what she was going to say.
Theresa opened her mouth to speak, then paused as a group of noisy teenagers passed our table in search of somewhere to sit. Chairs rattled as they took a seat in the corner, and when they were finally out of earshot, she spoke. ‘There’s someone very important that we have to remember in all of this, and that’s Jamie. I don’t want him growing up like Emma did, in a disruptive household with a mum and dad arguing all the time. It was easier for me because I was hardly ever there. I’ll always regret not watching out for Emma. But it’s not too late for Jamie. He’s entitled to a normal upbringing, and I don’t want to see him suffer.’ She leaned forward, narrowing the gap between us. ‘I’ve watched Emma bounce back all her life. But with all of this going on, I don’t think there’s any more bounce left. You’re right. She needs help.’ Theresa rested a hand on my forearm. ‘You’ve got to get away from that house.’
‘I will, but first of all, I need to know what happened with Luke.’
She nodded her head solemnly. ‘Will you promise to stand by her? To keep the family together? I can’t bear to think of her raising Jamie alone.’
‘Of course. You know how much they mean to me. I wouldn’t be meeting you if I had any intention of leaving.’
Theresa drew her hand away and took her jacket from the back of her chair. ‘Then I think it’s time you knew the truth. But not here. Let’s go for a walk.’
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
EMMA
2017
His eyes wide with excitement, Jamie had revelled in our bus excursion to Colchester. I felt compelled to use public transport, much to Alex’s relief. I saw the way he had been looking at me, observing my behaviour for clues that I was going mad. I regretted my confession and all the intimate moments when I had discussed my eating disorder, telling him about the voice in my head. Everybody heard voices, and most were like mine, brutal and unkind. I only had to listen to my clients in the bridal shop as they chatted about diets and body image to know where their harshest critics lived. But I had to maintain control. What happened to Jamie must never happen again. As I walked into town, PC Bakewell’s words rebounded in my memory. I would not be so lucky the next time around. For now, Jamie was safely ensconced in nursery school, seemingly none the worse for wear. A flush had risen to my chest as I explained our near miss to Mairead, the nursery head. She had treated me with compassion, offering to hold another teddy bear’s picnic to make up for the one Jamie had missed. Such warmth had not been extended by my husband. I knew he was trying not to blame me for the incident in the car park, but I sensed an underlying resentment just the same.
The problem with having something precious was the very real fear of losing it, and as I checked my phone, I was more aware of that now than ever. I opened up the ‘friend finder’ app to check Alex’s whereabouts, praying that I was wrong. He had said that he would be spending the day in his old office, tying up loose ends before returning to his new role. But the map on my phone stated he was in Costa Coffee in town. I bit my lip as I sent a text.
Jamie’s fine. He loved the bus ride. Did you get to work OK? Love you. XXX
The response was almost immediate, stopping me in my tracks.
That’s great! Yes, no problems. Up to my eyes in it. Speak soon. XXX
My husband was lying to me. Slowly I slipped through the Odeon cinema entrance so as not to be spotted as I cast an eye over the coffee-shop patrons. The two businesses worked in tandem. Alex and I’d had many happy dates here before Jamie was born. But today’s visit was one he had not seen fit to disclose to me. He was taking a chance coming here, relying upon my routine of opening the bridal shop on time. I peeped around the corner to find him sitting on the sofa, his back turned to me as he sat with a blonde
woman in an armchair. I tried to make out her features, but from my vantage point, I could only see the top of her head. As their hands touched from across the table, I felt bile rise in my throat. He did not touch colleagues like that. This was too intimate a meeting to be work. My insecurities grew. Was he having an affair? Why else had he lied, saying he was at work? Had my inadequacies pushed him away into the arms of another? Just how long had this been going on? Questions fired in my mind like poison arrows, making me feel sick to the core. Picking up a free newspaper, I slid into a nearby seat. Time was against me. Customers would complain if I opened up late. I peered over the paper, fury blooming inside me as I watched Alex lean in for a hug. It was only as the woman leaned forward that I realised the mystery date was my sister. What was she doing with Alex? Confusion wormed its way into my brain. She hadn’t mentioned this to me. I watched transfixed as they parted, she patting him on the shoulder then Alex touching her arm. I lowered the paper and checked my watch. It was time for me to go.
I had to get to work and act as if it were a normal day. I would decide what to do once I had listened to what she had to say. I did not know which was worse: the thought of them plotting about what to do with me behind my back or finding comfort in each other’s arms. Slipping outside, I could not stop myself from following a little longer. Swerving busy pedestrians, I kept my distance, wondering if Alex and Theresa were making a detour to the shop. Perhaps I had got it wrong. Maybe they were planning a surprise, to take me out for the day. Theresa linked Alex’s arm through hers as she tottered down the street in her new trouser suit and heels. My face soured as they walked the path to Colchester Castle. The place I used to go with Luke. The lilt of laughter carried on the air, and I realised that it was coming from Alex. I had not heard him laugh like that with me in such a long time. I turned away, tears stinging my eyes. Why were two of the people I loved most in the world meeting behind my back? My arms swinging by my side, I strode towards my shop in haste. I would put on a brave face, pretend nothing had happened and wait for them to come to me with the truth.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
ALEX
2017
A sudden stab of guilt hit me as I replied to Emma’s text. I hated deceiving her, but it was nothing compared to the web of lies that she had spun around me. A web I was trying to battle my way through. I told myself that my secret meeting with Theresa was for her own good. All I wanted was to get to the truth. It was my job to help us move on and rebuild our lives. I knew that parenthood meant more than DNA and bloodlines, but I could not bear to discover that someone else had more claim on my son than I. Reaching across the table, Theresa had offered a sympathetic hug, having only an inkling of the tangled mess my marriage had become.
‘Do you mind if I take your arm?’ Theresa said, wobbling slightly as she got to her feet. ‘It’s these daft heels. They’re far too high for me.’
As we made our way down the winding cobbled path, she recalled stories of Emma and the lengths she used to go to when sourcing her bohemian look. Such comments brought comfort, and I laughed as she reminded me of the unique young woman I had fallen in love with in Leeds.
‘It’s all down to Mum, you know,’ Theresa said. ‘Whether she knows it or not, Emma’s emulating her style. I remember, growing up, Mum used to wear lots of tunic blouses, floppy hats, maxi-print dresses, all that stuff.’
This was news to me. ‘But why would Emma want to copy your mum if she gave her such a hard time growing up?’
‘It wasn’t all bad,’ Theresa said sadly. ‘Emma only focuses on the bad bits because she punishes herself for Mum leaving. Mum was difficult to live with, and when she got drunk things would get a lot worse. But she could go weeks without a drink. She used to bring us crabbing down the beach, show us how to paint. Dad used to go away on his digs for weeks at a time. That’s when she’d get lonely and hit the bottle. I wish . . .’ Theresa sighed, our conversation taking on a more serious tone.
‘Go on,’ I said, as we turned into Colchester Castle.
‘I wish I could tell Emma that Mum leaving isn’t her fault. Maybe if she realised that, she wouldn’t feel so tormented by the past.’
‘It’s not your mum she’s worried about,’ I said. ‘It’s Luke Priestwood. Right now I’d like to focus on what happened with him.’
‘Well, this is where it all started,’ she said, relinquishing her hold as she found a bench in the expansive grounds. Sitting here, with the birds singing and the sun warming our backs, it could almost be taken for a spring day. But my time in the sunshine was short lived, as Theresa opened up the wounds of her past.
‘After Mum left, Emma went through a rough patch. I wasn’t at home very much. Neither Dad nor Emma were coping very well. Then one day Dad told me Emma had a new art teacher, and he had really turned things around.’ She stared into the distance as a cool breeze played with loose strands of her hair. ‘He was in his twenties, good looking, the sort of man that girls swooned over back then. I think that’s why he liked Emma. She was quiet and cautious. He befriended her and she began to open up to him. If you ask me, their problems began the moment he agreed to meet her here.’
I glanced around at the castle grounds, busy with visitors making the most of the sunny day. I tried to imagine a younger version of my wife, sitting on this bench, pouring her heart out to Luke. The image would not come. ‘For a teacher to meet a pupil after school . . . it was very reckless of him. She was young and vulnerable. I can’t help but think he took advantage.’
‘You’re right,’ Theresa said, her voice tinged with regret. ‘And I blame myself for not picking up on it earlier on. She told me she was seeing him outside school, but when I brought it up with Dad, he said their meetings were above board.’
‘But they weren’t,’ I said. ‘Were they?’
Theresa shook her head. ‘Emma fell for Luke very quickly. I’d moved out and Dad was so distant . . . it was hardly any wonder she attached herself to him.’
‘Luke shouldn’t have agreed to it in the first place. Any fool can see that.’ I tried to keep my emotions in check. Meeting with a pupil was nothing compared to Emma trying to kill him.
‘He must have got a kick out of it, somewhere along the line.’ Theresa sighed at the memory, her gaze distant. ‘I only had to mention his name and she would turn bright red. It was obvious she had a huge crush on him. I thought it was harmless. Dad made it sound like Luke was counselling her and, for a while, she seemed happier.’
My heart sank as she echoed Luke’s words.
‘I knew something had happened because a few months later he cut off all contact with her. Suddenly, all she wanted to do was to follow him around. I had no idea how long it had been going on for, until it all came out.’
‘So you’re saying that she followed him? What about the flowers that were sent to the house?’
‘Oh, we got flowers all right. At first Dad thought they were from Luke. We all did. That’s until we found out she was sending them to herself. Thank God we weren’t into social media back then is all I can say. At least her lies were limited to the people she told in school.’ She gave me a sideways glance, regret written all over her face. ‘Want me to keep going?’
I nodded, reminding myself that it was all in the past. Emma was a different person now. I would make her well again.
Theresa took a breath, her hands lightly clasped on her lap. ‘She used to stalk him at school. Whenever anyone spoke to her about it, she’d put the onus back on him, saying he was stringing her along, that he loved her and wouldn’t leave her alone. The more Luke tried to push her away, the more obsessed she became. It was almost tragic.’
Tragic? If only she knew. My thoughts streaked through my mind. Or did she know? How much had Emma told her? In the distance a group of mothers and toddlers assembled, one of the children shrieking as the red balloon she was holding was taken by the wind. I watched its ascent as it bobbed from left to right, its destination orchestrated by the unpredi
ctable weather.
Theresa crossed her legs, clasping her hands around her knee. ‘Perhaps fantasising about Luke gave her a break from her own thoughts. Maybe it was easier to live in that fantasy world. She got over him in time. University helped. Having new friends and facing different challenges really brought her out of herself. That was the last I heard about Luke until Dad’s funeral. Maybe it was Luke who sent the flowers that time. I don’t know.’ She shrugged.
‘But why?’ I said. ‘The phone calls, the flowers. Why has it started up again?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe stress is the trigger. Having you and Jamie in her life has really helped her pull things together. I’m hoping when you move she’ll come back to herself again.’
‘Or she could go the other way,’ I said, thinking of the extent of my wife’s lies. It was as though we were talking about a different person. I didn’t know her at all. Yet I needed to ask Theresa outright – to hear her say the words aloud. I inhaled a deep breath, the warmth of the morning breeze giving me strength. ‘Did they sleep together? Was that why she stalked him? Because that’s what you’re telling me, isn’t it?’
‘I think so.’ She nodded. ‘And I feel bad for not believing it at first. But you have to remember, Emma was just sixteen. Luke took advantage of her, used her for sex. That’s when things turned nasty. Despite everything he’d done, Emma wasn’t ready to let him go.’
So, Emma was the stalker, not Luke. He had been telling the truth all along. Thoughts raced through my head as I journeyed to my office, each one accompanied by a streak of fear. Theresa loved Emma as much as I did, and I knew she would never lie about their past. Her account had made me wonder if I had been married to a stranger all these years. Could Theresa have got it wrong? My shoulders fell as I realised I was coming up with excuses, rather than believing what was staring me in the face. But as I reached the office, it seemed that Theresa was not the only source of information. As I sorted through the pile of post on my desk, I found another part of the puzzle which was entirely impartial. The blood drained from my body as I read the postmark of the envelope. Jamie’s DNA results. A hard ball lodged in my throat as I picked up the envelope. Was I strong enough to cope with what was inside?
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