by Lisa Hall
‘Your mum was already gone by then, Sean. I had nothing to do with your mum leaving your dad. It was already over between them.’
‘Yeah, you’d think, wouldn’t you?’ Sean smiles, but there is a manic edge to it, and his eyes glint dangerously in the lamp light. ‘Only, I overheard that too. Remember, Rachel? The night you and my Dad nearly got caught?’
I glance down to where Robbie looks up at me, fear and confusion and hurt written all over his face.
‘I heard my dad telling you that if it hadn’t been for you, maybe he would have fought harder to get my mum back. For us to be a proper family again. Only you had to come along and fuck things up, didn’t you?’
‘But you were so concerned – that day when I threw up … the day I bumped into you by the park and you walked me home. If you hate me so much, why do that?’
‘I had to keep in there, didn’t I? My dad wouldn’t discuss it, so how else was I supposed to know if the police had any idea of what had happened? Of course, you couldn’t stop yourself from spilling your guts, self-centered bitch that you are.’
Disgust crawls over his features, and I shiver at the hate I see in his eyes.
Standing next to the desk, I inch my fingers closer to where Gareth’s letter opener lies behind a stack of papers. Visible to me, it is hidden from view from where Sean stands. I must have something to protect myself and Robbie, if the need arises. Sean is all over the place and he’s already hurt Robbie once. A thought strikes me, and I glance down at Robbie, my faith in him shaken a little. He seems as shocked by this turn of events as I am, but there is something that niggles at me.
‘You said you weren’t at the party,’ I blurt out, my fingers finally closing around the handle of the opener. ‘Robbie said you were both at your house for the entire evening.’
‘Ha. Good old Rob – gave me the perfect alibi!’ Sean steps around the side of the desk, just as I whip the blade behind my back. ‘Tell her, Rob. Tell her how you lied – tell her how her own son gave her rapist an alibi.’ He leans down and pulls Robbie to his feet, despite the slight height advantage Robbie has over Sean, Sean seems to have superhuman strength as he pulls Robbie to standing with no effort at all.
‘Mum …’ Robbie stutters, tears streaking his cheeks, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know …’
‘Tell her,’ Sean roars, delivering a blow to the side of Robbie’s head. Robbie cowers, trying to cover his hand with his hands, but Sean pulls him round to face me. ‘Go on, tell her.’
‘I … l … l … lied,’ Robbie wheezes out, his face contorted by fear, one eye already closing with the force of Sean’s punch as Sean holds him by the hair. ‘I told them we were home at Sean’s all night. I was, I was there all night, but Sean went out at about midnight, just after. He told me he was going to go and score some weed.’ He swallows painfully. ‘I told him I’d found the bills in Dad’s drawer and I was worried. I wanted to make some money that I could give Dad, to help out a bit.’
‘Oh, Rob,’ I say quietly, my heart breaking.
‘Sean said he could score some weed and then I could sell it on at college. I thought I was doing the right thing. But Sean couldn’t get any. Now I know why.’ He breaks off, his voice strained with the effort of holding back tears.
‘It all just fell into place,’ Sean shrugs, and the blood turns to ice in my veins. He planned everything down to a T.‘Rob told me about the money and I thought, yes! She’ll lose her house, all her stuff. People will look at her like the piece of shit she really is. All I had to do was let Gareth know what you’d been up to, and then he would leave you as well – you really should keep a better eye on your mobile, Rachel.’
‘That was you – you sent that text for Gareth to find?’ I adjust my grip on the blade behind my back, ready to strike if I need to.
He rolls his eyes. ‘Yeah, I sent that text from your phone to my dad – it was a bit awkward – you nearly caught me!’The light tone drops from his voice and his eyes go flat and blank, causing an icy finger to run down my spine. ‘Only it didn’t work, did it? Gareth still didn’t leave you – he still stayed for more, meaning I had no option but to up my game. I had to find a way to destroy you – to make you repulsive to everyone around you. What is it about you, Rachel, that these men find so attractive? I mean, I didn’t think you were that good in the sack – bit unresponsive, you know?’ He gives me a wink, and twists Robbie’s hair in his fist, so he can’t move. ‘And then … well, I started enjoying myself. For someone who reckons she’s such a strong, independent woman, you’re remarkably easy to frighten, Rachel.’
‘All of it was you, wasn’t it?’ I whisper, everything falling into place. ‘The letters on the fridge – I saw you, that day, outside the police station. Had you just come from my house? You’d been inside my house, leaving a threatening message, and then straight after you were there, looking after me while I threw up in the gutter …’ My stomach twists at the realization that Sean is responsible for everything, not just what happened that night at the party.
He gives another little shrug, like it’s no big deal. ‘Just my luck that Jason turned up on your doorstep that day too, eh? That was a stroke of luck – made him look dead suspicious.’
But I am not listening, lost in my own thoughts, adding up all those moments that conspired to make me think I was losing my mind.
‘And the car … you must have scored that word into the door before you rang the bell to call for Robbie, acting like nothing happened?’ I shake my head, trying to piece it all together, my eyes never leaving Robbie as Sean holds him tightly. ‘And when I was running … that was you too, wasn’t it? Following me, making sure I could hear your footsteps behind me. What would you have done if I had turned round and seen you?’
‘You wouldn’t have done,’ he says arrogantly, ‘you’re not the strong, independent, good-hearted person that you like people to think you are, Rachel. You’re dark inside – selfish, greedy and manipulative, only out for yourself. You deserved everything I gave you.’
‘How fucking dare you?’ I murmur, the rage that has slowly been building the entire time Sean has been talking boiling up and over the edge, taking me with it. A red mist descends, and I know that now it’s him or me – one of us has to finish the other, for good.
‘What did you say to me?’ He glares at me, raising the paperweight once more, ready to bring it crashing down on Robbie’s temple. ‘Be careful, Rachel, you only have one thing left to lose now.’ He smirks down at Robbie and I use his distraction to my advantage.
‘I said, how fucking dare you!’ I roar, as I fly towards him, letter opener raised in my fist. ‘How fucking dare you threaten to take my son from me? How dare you try to ruin my life? You think this is it? You think I’ll just curl up and die in a corner? You will never break me, you piece of shit, and things will never go back to how they were before.’ In his surprise, he drops Robbie to the floor, and I thrust the tip of the letter opener against the cool white of his throat.
‘You are nothing more than a child,’ I sneer, grateful that from the angle of his head he can’t see the way the blade shakes in my fist, adrenaline coursing through my veins, ‘a child, who understands nothing of the adult world. Your mother didn’t want to be part of your family for her own reasons, nothing to do with me. And you may have hurt me, you may have frightened me, you may have made me suspicious of everyone I’ve ever been close to, but you … DO … NOT … WIN, do you understand me?’ The tip of the blade breaks the skin of his throat, a tiny bubble of red appearing at the tip. Mesmerized by the maroon burst, I have to stop myself from pressing harder, from thrusting it deep into his artery.
‘Rachel! Stop!’ The door flies open and hands grip me by the upper arms, pulling me away from him. I turn to see two police officers, striding towards Sean, handcuffs in hand. Gareth is behind me, his hands on my arms keeping me from flying back towards to Sean, while Carrie stands in the doorway. I drop the blade to the floor, leaning back against the r
eassuring warmth of Gareth. He spins me to face him, pulling me tightly into his arms, as I start to sob, the fear of the past three months rising into a tidal wave of emotion. A moment later, I feel another set of arms come around me as Robbie stands with us, and we watch, as a family, as Sean – childhood friend, once part of our family, now unrecognizable as the small boy I welcomed into our home – is led away. Finally, it’s over.
27
EARLY FEBRUARY – FIVE WEEKS AFTER THE PARTY
It’s a damp, drizzly afternoon, the light already fading from the day even though it’s not even three o’clock yet when my world shatters for a second time in as many months. Gareth is home, not quite ready to go back into the office after the events that took place just a few days ago, and it is he that opens the door when the doorbell rings, startling us both. I sit on the edge of the couch, unable to relax, hoping that he can get rid of whoever it is. There has been an endless stream of phone calls and visitors, mostly Helen Faulkner wanting to write a follow-up piece, now that Sean has been arrested, her white blonde hair bobbing past the front window every other day, it seems. I have refused to see or speak to her every time, and I’ll refuse again today. But it’s not Helen Faulkner that Gareth leads into the dimly lit sitting room.
‘Carrie. Hello.’ I get to my feet, my heart leaping in my chest. Surely, she must be here to give us news? Suddenly, irrationally, I feel as though I don’t want to hear whatever she has to say. ‘Shall I make some tea?’
‘No, I’m fine. Thank you.’ Carrie says, with a weak smile. ‘I have an update for you, Rachel.’
I nod, without speaking, and then suddenly Gareth is beside me, his arm around my shoulders, awkwardly. I shrug him off and take a seat. There is no me and Gareth, not right now, probably not ever again – I don’t have the headspace to think about what he’s done, the lies he’s told. Not yet. Until I can, I am struggling to tolerate his presence.
‘Rachel.’ Carrie sits down beside me, her knees almost touching mine. ‘I’m here because there’s been a development.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘Sean Durand has been granted bail.’
‘Bail?’ I feel my breath stick in my throat in horror, the ground lurching beneath my feet. ‘How? How can they grant him bail?’ I feel sick, icy fingers of dread at the back of my neck. He’s not locked up. He’s out there, somewhere. I fight to draw in a deep breath, hunching my shoulders, panic threatening.
I feel Gareth’s hand come down between my shoulder blades, rubbing my back and despite how I feel about him, his touch calms me and I manage to breathe again.
‘How, Carrie?’ he asks, his words echoing mine, his hand moving down to mine, our fingers linking. ‘How can they let him go after what he did? His mother lives in the US – did you know that? What’s to stop him from leaving the country?’
‘Let me explain,’ Carrie says. ‘I’m so sorry, I know this is very difficult for you both … but I’ll tell you everything.’ Gareth nods, his face ashen. I swallow hard, a thick lump of – something – rage, or maybe fear sticking in my throat and I wait to hear what Carrie has to say. ‘Sean has been released on conditional bail terms. This means that he must return to his known address to live – Ted has agreed to this. Sean has to hand in his passport to the police, so there is no chance of him absconding to his mother. He has to agree to not contact either you, Rachel, or Gareth or Robbie, and he must report to Kingsnorth police station every Monday afternoon at four p.m. He has agreed to all of these conditions.’
‘So, he just … walks free? Is that what you’re telling me?’ My eyes widen with horror. The idea of Sean walking the streets, as though nothing ever happened chills me to the bone. He was supposed to be punished – he ruined my life, and he was supposed to pay the price for that.
‘It’s not that he walks free, Rachel,’ Carrie says, ‘but yes, he will be at home, not in prison. But he cannot contact you under any circumstances, OK? And if you’re at all worried, or if he does attempt to contact any of you, you can call us immediately.’
‘No, this isn’t good enough, it isn’t fair …’ Gareth starts speaking but I tune him out, lost in my own thoughts, lost in the idea that I could bump into Sean on the streets of West Marsham, that he is free to carry on living his own life. But only until he’s sentenced, a little voice speaks at the back of my mind. I don’t know a lot about the British justice system, but I do know that rape can carry a hefty sentence. Once he’s behind bars, that’s it – he can never touch anyone again. He’ll be properly punished.
‘Rachel?’ Carrie is looking at me with concern, her brows knitted together in a frown. ‘Did you hear what I said?’
I shake my head. ‘Sorry. What did you say?’
‘Sean’s pleading not guilty, Rachel. There’s going to be a trial.’
Not guilty. The words tumble over and over in my mind as I lay in bed, watching a shaft of moonlight move across the ceiling as sleep doesn’t come. I asked Carrie how he could plead not guilty, when I heard him admit everything, when the DNA sample came back linked to him, and her only explanation is that he is going against the advice of his legal team, presumably to cause maximum distress to me.
I’ll now have to go through all of it again, in court, and hope that a jury believes me over him. There is a hard knot in my stomach, built of rage and fear, at the image of him in my mind shaking his head, smug grin on his face, mouthing the words not guilty over and over. I was so sure that this ordeal was finished – once I saw Sean being led from the house, flanked by two police officers, I thought it was all over, and I was safe. Sean was in custody and he would never be able to hurt me again. And now … now I realize it isn’t over. It will never be fully over until I finish it myself, just as I said I would all those weeks ago in Amy’s sitting room.
Every night I toss and turn, craving the oblivion of sleep, but it eludes me until I barely know who I am any more. Thoughts of Sean consume me, the memory of his hands pushing me down onto the bed, the smell of his aftershave, the fear I have felt every day since I woke up in Liz’s spare bedroom. After too many sleepless nights to count, I know what I must do. The only person who can make sure I’m safe is me.
I creep out of the house early one morning and walk over to Ted’s house. My hands shake as I watch as Ted leaves the house in a rush, tie flying, coffee mug in hand as he jumps into the car and screeches away, obviously late for work. I watch as, two hours later, the curtains open in the front room, and Sean appears, clad only in a T-shirt and boxer shorts, clearly having just woken up.
I watch as, later on that day, he walks down to the shops – not the ones closest to the house, he can’t shop there now, as they’ll all be gossiping about him – but the ones towards the outskirts of the village, raising a hand in a vulgar gesture to someone who beeps as they pass him.
I watch, day after day, night after sleepless night, sick with exhaustion and worry, as Sean carries on about his business, no burden evident on his shoulders, no remorse etched onto his face. I watch as he greets Amy as she leaves her flat, smirking as she gives him a look of disgust and turns her back. I watch as he greets a teenage girl in the park, leaning down to pet her dog and I want to scream at her to run, don’t you know what he’s done? Don’t you know who he is?
Until, finally, I don’t need to watch any more. The timing is right, at last. In the park – the one where I walked Thor, met Amy, kissed Ted – I sit on the bench at the end of the path, the light almost gone as another chilly winter’s evening sets in. The secluded bench, closest to the trees. Huddled up in a black hoody, scarf, and woolly hat pulled down low over my hair, I watch for the last time, as Sean’s shadowy figure enters the park, at four forty-five on Monday afternoon. He is walking home from his appointment at the police station, headphones in, intent on getting home before full dark. I watch as he approaches the bench, the trees behind casting ever darker shadows as the sun sinks completely below the horizon and I get ready.
Sean was right about one thing. There is a darkness in
side me. I slide my hand into the pocket of my bag, my fingers wrapping around the cool blade of the knife I now keep there, its chill metal reassuring against the warmth of my fingers. This whole thing started with me. I’ll make sure it ends with Sean.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Bringing this book to life has been a real labour of love, and there were times when I wasn’t sure it was ever going to be finished (anyone who says second book syndrome is the worst has obviously never suffered from third book syndrome!), but here it is, and there is a whole army of people that I need to thank...
Kate Mills, my bloody awesome editor – thank you for letting me write what I wanted, for your guidance and your patience and for generally being Queen of F*cking Everything.
Lisa Moylett – if Carling made agents... This book would definitely never have made it without you and the fearsomely brilliant Zoë Apostolides – thank you for telling me I could do it when I didn’t think I could. I’m so lucky to be part of the CMM family.
Lisa Milton and the whole HQ gang – I still have to pinch myself a bit that I am part of this fantastic publishing crowd, and I’m so grateful for all the hard work you put in to make our books the best they can be. You guys rock.
My lovely author friends, especially Christie Barlow, B A Paris, Roz Watkins, Darren O’Sullivan, Rachel Dove and Vicky Newham – thank you for letting me know I’m not alone in my weird quirky rituals, (and for the wine – thank you for all the wine!).
My sisters, who show their support every time I write a book, by asking me what I’m having for dinner every day and sending me inappropriate cartoon drawings.