by Jack Jordan
Walking down the path to the church, she wondered if this was exactly what she needed: an escape from everything she knew. Here, she was away from the house and all of the memories that had been trapped inside it and had kept her in the past. She was away from the sofa she used to drink on, and the bath where Ryan had ended his life, and where Chloe’s room had only been a wall away. Staying in Maxim’s house meant she had fewer reminders of her past.
Before entering the church, she walked through the graveyard, listening to the gravel crunch underfoot, trying to ignore the pain in her ankle.
She stood before their graves: Chloe and Ryan, side by side. She might be alone, but they weren’t. There may be only a part of Chloe beneath the earth, but it was enough. At least a part of her was at rest, next to her father. Paige looked at Ryan’s crushed gravestone, and began to pick up the rubble. She found pieces of his name etched into bits of the broken stone, and managed to line up the rocks with the letters to read his name.
‘Ryan… I forgive you.’
She walked towards the church feeling lighter, with a sense of clarity she hadn’t felt in years. She was free from alcohol, free from pills, feeling less grief than she had felt in a long, long time. The pain was still there, as it always would be, but for the first time, she felt like might survive it.
***
Paige stood next to Maxim at the door to the church as he greeted his congregation. He smiled and shook hands, while she handed out the hymn booklets. There weren’t many people – only ten or so, all over the age of forty. Paige stood awkwardly and smiled at the strangers while sweating from the thick, itchy scarf around her neck. She longed to take it off, but was afraid of revealing the bare skin beneath.
Just then, Dr Abdullah walked towards them, his arm linked with that of a woman of his own age and ethnicity. Paige dropped the hymnbooks. Dr Abdullah’s eyes met Paige’s: they were both terrified; the woman and Maxim looked between them in confusion.
‘Are you all right?’ Maxim asked.
‘I’m fine, just clumsy.’
She bent at her knees to pick them up, and saw the doctor’s companion do the same, She gave Paige a kind smile.
Don’t smile at me. You should hate me.
‘Thanks,’ she said, as she noticed the ring on the woman’s finger.
‘No problem,’ Mrs Abdullah said, keeping two books for her and the doctor. He refused to look at Paige, as though another glance would give them away.
Paige straightened her hair and adjusted the hem of the coat, suddenly feeling exposed.
‘Do you know the doctor?’ Maxim asked when they were alone again.
‘He’s my GP.’
‘Do you always react that way when you see people you know?’
‘No, not always.’
When everyone was seated, Maxim made his way to the pulpit and began the service. Paige sat on the back pew and allowed herself to take off the scarf before she began to drip with sweat, wondering how long it would take until the service was over and she could get away from the doctor. His wife was beautiful, with long dark hair, hazel eyes, youthful skin – and a warm smile that Paige felt unworthy of. They were sitting five rows in front of her, and every so often the doctor would glance back to check she was still there. Paige could see the cut on his head had scabbed over and was surrounded by a purple bruise.
Dressed in just the coat and tights, Paige couldn’t help but feel like a whore again, especially under the doctor’s glare. Only an hour before she had been walking towards the church feeling uplifted, free from her previous burdens, but being near the doctor brought back shame. She felt judged and dirty. She longed to get back into the cold shower and scrub her skin until she felt clean again.
While Maxim delivered his sermon, he frequently looked at Paige with a smile.
At least my presence makes him happy, she thought, crossing her legs and pulling down the hem of the coat again. The doctor glanced at her.
I need to get out of here. I need a drink. I need something.
She looked at the side door leading further into the church, and wondered if she would be able find the communion wine.
No. You’re doing this. You’re staying sober.
The doctor glanced back at her again, and this time his wife noticed. She followed his gaze and turned to look at Paige. With that one look, Paige watched the woman learn about the relationship between her and the doctor, about what they had done. His wife’s eyes glazed over with a sheen of tears.
Paige grabbed the scarf and headed for the door, and practically ran through the graveyard, longing to get away from the scrutiny. The scarf got stuck under her foot and she fell on the gravel, twisting her bad ankle, scraping her knees and laddering the tights. Her broken wrist ached from the jolt. Her free hand was bleeding. When she looked up, she saw her husband’s grave.
‘So you’re judging me, too?’
She picked herself up and limped back to Maxim’s cottage, longing to be alone, to take some of her tablets, and to forget the shame and the pain that seemed to stalk her every move.
SIXTEEN
Paige sat down at the dining table and took a sip of water, wishing it were wine. Dressed in Maxim’s tracksuit again, her knees felt hot and sore from the fall in the graveyard. Her injured wrist still ached and her ankle was swollen. A candle flickered in the centre of the table; the flame gleamed in the cutlery that was set on the table for the two of them. Maxim was in the kitchen serving up.
He emerged with two plates of pasta in a creamy sauce, easy to eat with a fork in one hand.
‘Looks great.’
‘Well, you haven’t eaten it yet,’ he replied, and sat opposite her.
‘I’ve been living off your dinners for a while now. I’m not looking forward to the day when I have to cook for myself again.’
‘Stay here, and I’d be happy to cook for you every night.’ He raised his glass of water. ‘Cheers.’
Paige raised her own and they each took a sip before tucking in.
‘Do you ever get lonely, Maxim? Living on your own?’
‘I’m not alone,’ he said. He put a forkful of pasta into his mouth and chewed. ‘I have God.’
‘No one else? No friend that sometimes stays?’
‘I don’t have a girlfriend,’ he replied.
‘Why not? It’s not as if you aren’t attractive.’
‘I have everything I want. Well, almost everything. I don’t feel the need for a girlfriend.’
‘Surely even vicars are allowed a sex life?’
‘Who says I don’t have a sex life?’ he raised one eyebrow and smirked.
‘Touché,’ she said and laughed.
They sat in silence for a few moments.
‘What was all that about with the doctor today?’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked.
‘You both looked as though you were staring at corpses.’
‘I think he feels guilty about Ryan’s death, you know? He prescribed him antidepressants, but clearly they weren’t enough.’
‘Why would that shock you enough to drop the hymnbooks?’
‘I’m still getting used to this,’ She raised her cast. ‘I keep thinking I have the use of both hands.’
He frowned at his plate. ‘Did you sleep with him?’
‘Excuse me?’ She looked at her brother with dismay.
‘You’re my little sister. I don’t want you going with men like that. You’re better than that.’
‘What I do is none of your business.’
‘Why do we have to argue every time we’re together?’
‘Because you pry too much.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’ll work on it.’
They ate and tried to ignore the tension swelling between them. Paige longed to sip at a glass of white wine. The dinner seemed odd without it.
‘You know that was his wife he came to the church with today?’
‘Maxim, I really don’t want to talk about it.’
‘Perhaps you should think of her before you meet with him again.’
She dropped the fork onto the plate. Maxim jumped.
‘If you’re going to make me feel like shit, I’ll go and stay with Dad.’
‘You’re better off here.’
‘Right now, I’m not so sure.’
‘I’m sorry, all right? It’s because I care for you. I don’t like the thought of you being with him.’
‘Well, don’t think about it. And you can do that by not talking about it.’
They finished their dinner in awkward silence. Paige imagined packing a bag and going to her father’s, when she remembered that she didn’t even have any belongings to pack. She looked at the phone in its dock in the hallway. She could call her father and be asleep on his sofa within the hour. Maxim was behaving oddly tonight and she didn’t like it. She looked at his shirt. It looked familiar. For some reason, it didn’t sit right with her.
‘Why is the third bedroom locked?’
‘Pardon?’
‘The other bedroom. The door’s locked. Why?’
‘Would you like to see inside?’
For the first time in her life, Paige felt uneasy in Maxim’s company. ‘Are you feeling all right?’
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘You just… you don’t seem like yourself.’
‘I’m fine. Would you like to see the room?’
Their eyes locked. Maxim didn’t blink.
‘All right,’ she said.
Paige followed him as he led the way down the hall and up the stairs. Something was wrong. She wished her father had stayed for dinner, but couldn’t explain why.
Maxim pulled a key from his pocket. He looked strange in the dark.
‘You ready?’
She nodded slowly. He stepped aside and allowed her to enter. What she saw made her stop in her tracks. Cold sweat broke out all over her body.
By the flickering light of numerous candles, she saw photos of herself plastering all four walls: her as a baby, a toddler, a child, a teen, her as an adult, a mother, a widow. Her entire life was in front of her. There were photos of her at the graveyard the night she was arrested, and asleep on her sofa hugging to her chest the jumpsuit that Chloe had worn as a baby. There was a photo of her naked, taken up close – her eyes were closed in sleep.
Lit candles were dotted around the edges of the room – he had planned to show her all along. The carpet beneath her feet felt rough, and was stained with hardened, white spills.
She couldn’t understand. Her thoughts refused to string together and tell her what was right in front of her.
‘It’s always been you,’ he said, walking up behind her.
His hands slipped around her waist and pulled her gently against him.
‘What?’ Tears filled her eyes as she gaped at the photos. She turned around.
It was as though a completely different man stood before her – someone deranged, a terrifying stranger. The candlelight flickered in his eyes.
She looked at his shirt, and immediately knew why it was so familiar: it was Ryan’s. She had bought it for him.
‘Dad always tried to come between us. Locking your bedroom door, sending me away to study Christ. But our bond was too strong. It never broke, even after all these years.’
‘Maxim, what is this?’ She turned back to face the photographs, trying to remember the past he described. She could see her naked body in the photos. Bile crept up her throat.
‘This is love,’ he whispered in her ear.
She turned and backed against the wall, tears rolling down her cheeks. He stepped forward and kissed her. His warm tongue slithered slowly into her mouth. She sank her teeth into it until she tasted blood. He staggered back with bloody lips.
‘You’re my brother!’
‘You love me.’
‘As a sibling!’
‘It’s more than that. It’s always been more.’
‘No it hasn’t! What the hell is wrong with you?’
‘For years I’ve protected you, waited for you to remember.’
‘You’re sick. You’re sick in the head!’
‘Don’t be like this. Not when we finally have the chance to be happy.’
‘What are you talking about? This can’t be happening.’
He stepped forward again, as though she wasn’t looking at him in terror, as though she hadn’t bitten him to be free of him. She slapped his face so hard he reeled backwards.
‘You’re sick!’
He looked at her again, his eyes filled with blind rage. ‘This isn’t how it was supposed to go.’
She couldn’t speak. She could only stare at him, trying to understand what sort of man he was, what sickness hid beneath his skull.
‘You’ve always been my girl. Always have. Always will. And now I have you.’
He lunged at her and pinned her against the wall. Photos of her slipped from the wall and burned against the candles. He kissed her hard, one hand around her throat, the other clawing up her T-shirt to touch her breasts. She brought her knee up into his crotch. As he staggered back, she ran for the door, only to scream out and fall back as he grabbed a fistful of her hair.
‘You’re finally mine again,’ he spat into her ear. ‘And I’m not losing you a second time. I’m going to keep you where you’re safe.’
‘Maxim, please!’ she sobbed as he dragged her down the stairs by her hair. This was her brother, not a stranger. This madman was her own flesh and blood.
‘I thought it would be enough,’ he said. ‘I thought it would be enough to fill the void you left in me.’
He dragged her from the stairs to the locked cupboard door beneath. She couldn’t think straight; she could only cry, bent over, her hair held tight in his fist. He turned the key in the lock and pulled her up until she was standing upright, his face inches from hers. ‘No one could take your place. I finally know that now.’ He kissed her, and growled in frustration when she squealed, before yanking open the door to reveal a stairwell.
‘You’ll come around,’ he said. ‘You’ll remember what we had, and you’ll learn to love me like you used to.’
‘Maxim—’
For a brief second she was in mid-air, before she crashed down onto the staircase and tumbled to the cold concrete floor. She heard a gasp and scream. Everything was spinning. Paige looked up the stairs to see Maxim slam the door shut; she heard a key turn in a lock. She could taste blood in her mouth and feel tears on her cheeks.
The room was bright – too bright. Squinting, she looked around and saw them: a woman and two children. All of them had auburn hair, pale skin, and wide eyes. The children were scared, and cowered against the woman who Paige seemed to recognise. The long red hair, the freckles on her nose and cheeks, the cool-blue of her eyes – the woman who stared back at her, the woman with a missing arm, was Chloe.
II
SEVENTEEN
I had been back at school for less than a month, and already I longed for the next summer to come around. I trudged through the back fields, the strap on my school bag digging into my shoulder from the weight of my books. After a day of learning, writing and reading, I had to go home and do homework, as well as read three chapters of a book that I didn’t even like. Walking over the bridge, I stopped halfway and looked down at the river flowing beneath my feet.
I should chuck the bloody bag in the river. I’ve just been studying all day, why the hell do I have to go home and do it all over again?
I imagined throwing the bag from my shoulder and into the water, and rushing to the other side of the bridge to watch the current steal away with it. I came back to reality with a sigh, and continued my trek towards home.
Walking up the lane towards the village, I wondered what Mum would cook for dinner; I felt sick with hunger. I hadn’t eaten lunch – instead, I had pocketed the money Dad had given me and bought two cigarettes from Amy. I hadn’t even tried smoking yet, but my friends had over the summer, and
I felt left out and boring. I wondered if I could pretend I smoked without ever having to prove it in front of the group. The smell alone made me feel sick.
A car pulled up beside me and I smiled. Uncle Maxim smiled back.
‘Get in, kid. I’ll drop you home.’
‘Thanks.’
I got into the passenger seat and dropped my bag by my feet.
‘Good day?’ he asked, driving on up the road.
‘Kinda.’
‘Sucks to be back, I bet.’
‘Yeah. Summer holidays went too quickly.’
‘It’ll be half-term, soon.’
I nodded and looked out the window at the first signs of the village: the post office, the corner shop, the steeple of the church by my uncle’s house.
‘I just need to get something for your mum from home. I’ll nip in and get it and then drop you back.’
‘Okay.’
Anything to keep me from doing homework.
He drove on and turned down the lane towards the vicarage. It really was quite pretty: thatched roof, brickwork painted white, surrounded by large, colourful trees that had just begun to turn with autumn.
Maxim pulled up outside the house.
‘I’ll be one sec. I need to find it first. If I’m not out in five minutes, come in and save me.’
I laughed and watched him enter the house before I began fiddling with the radio. I found a track I liked and relaxed into the passenger seat, looking up at the brightly coloured leaves on the trees and the clouds drifting in the sky. I closed my eyes for a second, listening to the song on the radio, humming along with the tune.
When I opened my eyes again, the sky wasn’t blue, but dark grey. The radio wasn’t playing anymore. Maxim hadn’t come out of the house since he went inside. The front door was still ajar.
I got out, leaving my bag in the car, and headed for the door. The cold evening wind blew at my skirt and bit at my bare legs. My hair whipped against my face. When I reached the door, I pushed it wider; the hinges squealed. It was dark inside the house.
‘Uncle Maxim?’
Nothing.
I stepped inside. The floorboards creaked under my feet.