Sticks and Stones

by Jo Jakeman

  ‘And I thought I were the dumb one,’ Naomi said.

  ‘You’re not—’ Ruby began.

  ‘Obviously! I mean, me without a dad, and my mum sodding off when I were one day old. I know Imogen’s mum’s still about, but her dad died when she were young, right? Ruby, you had no family when you met Phil, either, did yuh? I’m going out on a limb here, but what’s the betting that you weren’t the type to have a gang of mates you could call on, either? He’s got a type all right.’

  She took a deep drag on her cigarette.

  ‘He saw us coming. Singled us out, didn’t he? He goes for women who have nowhere to go and no one to turn to. He preys on vulnerable girls.’

  ‘I take offence at being called vulnerable,’ said Ruby.

  ‘I take offence at being called a girl,’ I said.

  We sat in silence, all of us searching for a reason why that wasn’t true, and coming up empty-handed and empty-hearted. Realising what, perhaps, we had always known: that Phillip’s relationships with us had been driven by a love for himself, and a desire for control.

  ‘Do you really think he would be that calculating?’ Ruby asked.

  Naomi scoffed. ‘You don’t?’

  She was right, of course; I’d not had many friends growing up. I was inoffensive enough that no one picked on me, and insignificant enough that no one invited me to parties. I was one of those girls who sat one row back in class, quietly listening and getting on with things. Taking on board everything that was going on around her, but never quite being part of it. Rachel was the closest thing I had to a friend, and I didn’t even know if she had dreams for her future or nightmares about her past.

  ‘For what it’s worth,’ said Ruby, ‘I don’t think that means he didn’t love us, in his own way; it says more about him not loving himself enough …’

  ‘Chuffin’ ’eck, Ruby!’ Naomi exclaimed. ‘I’ve never met a man who loves himself more. You can stuff your psycho-babble. There’s no one Phil loves more than number one.’

  ‘I’d love to disagree with you,’ Ruby said. ‘But perhaps you’re right.’

  The silence was brittle. Our easy conversation from earlier was stunted.

  ‘Sorry,’ Naomi said. ‘Sorry. Shouldn’t’ve said that. In a way, it’s nice that you still try and see the best in him. But I’ve had enough of that crap.’ She swivelled in her seat to face Ruby, ‘Can I ask you something? What was he like when you were married to him?’

  Ruby was surprised by the question. ‘I don’t know. I suppose it wasn’t so bad. I tried my best to protect him, but the smallest thing – a perceived slight, me taking too long at the shops or smiling at another man – was enough to send him into a tailspin. I got tired of mothering him, though. I don’t know whether it was the age difference or because he’d never had to look after himself.

  ‘He only physically hurt me once. He hated my work colleagues, and when I wouldn’t stop working there, he tried to get me sacked. We had a huge row about it. I still don’t know whether he meant to hurt me, but we were in the kitchen. He went to slam the door in my face, but my fingers were in the doorjamb. Broke every one of them across the tips. I would have forgiven him straight away if he’d apologised, but he tried to tell me it was my fault for goading him. The next day I moved into a hotel and then from there went to Africa.’

  ‘You did what?’ Naomi was impressed.

  ‘I was angrier back then. I went to work for UNICEF and it was five years before I saw Pip again.’

  ‘Good on you, duck.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Ruby looked at her hands. ‘I felt quite guilty. Pip said he’d have counselling, take time off work. He told me he wanted to work things out. I wonder whether I should have given him a second chance. I loved my time in Africa. I’d finally found my calling, and I really thought the time alone would do Pip good. I tried to persuade him to come out and join me, but he never was one for foreign countries. When he wrote to me he sounded like a broken man. His letters showed he’d done a lot of thinking; a lot of growing up. I fell in love with him all over again. And of course I’d changed by then too. I’d learned to forgive.

  ‘We’d been together for thirteen years, and even though I hadn’t seen him for almost half of that time, I still wore my wedding ring and used my married name. I came back to give our marriage another chance, but by that time he had already met you, Imogen – which was something he’d neglected to mention in his letters.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I muttered. ‘You must have been furious.’ I was thinking about the accident again.

  ‘Goodness, no. When you’ve seen what I’ve seen in Africa, and the atrocities that people manage to forgive each other for, I could never be angry over him finding love when I hadn’t been there to give it to him. We shouldn’t be apologising to each other, darling. We were all spun a line by Pip and we took the bait. He caused this hurt. Now I think about it, I was wrong about Pip’s type, though. I know what he saw in us. We’re all bloody fabulous.’

  ‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Naomi.

  ‘Me too.’

  We raised our glasses into the air and drank deeply. My head was spinning, and it wasn’t the wine.

  ‘What now?’ Naomi asked.

  As if waiting for its cue, the doorbell shrilled from within the house. Curious rather than fearful, we went inside. A man who threw bricks through windows was unlikely to have the courtesy to ring the bell.

  Naomi said she’d get it, but we all went with her to the door. She had her hand on the lock and waited for me to nod before she opened it a crack. A tall young man stood on the other side of the doorstep. He had a blue baseball cap perched on top of a mass of curls and was sliding two pizza boxes out of a red bag.

  ‘What’s this?’ asked Naomi.

  The delivery boy looked at the boxes, then back at Naomi like it should be obvious. She opened the door a little wider.

  ‘Pizza?’ he said, though he wasn’t sounding sure of himself.

  ‘We’ve not ordered owt.’

  He looked at the paper attached to the uppermost box, leaned backwards to look at the number by the side of the door and then looked, slowly, back to the paper.

  ‘Number twenty-eight?’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ I answered.

  ‘Rochester?’

  ‘Yes,’ all three of us said in unison.

  He looked back to the paper, like he was trying to work out a particularly tricky maths equation.

  ‘This is your pizza,’ he said finally.

  ‘We’ve not ordered any bloody pizza.’

  ‘Number twenty-eight?’ he said again.

  ‘Yes,’ repeated Naomi, ‘twenty-eight, and yes, it’s Rochester, but we’ve not ordered any pizza.’

  ‘It says here you have,’ he said. He was only young and his voice was quavering. I started to feel sorry for him. It wasn’t in his job description to deliver threats to suspicious women. Because that’s surely what it was – a threat. Phillip letting us know that he could get to us whenever he wanted.

  ‘Silly me,’ said Ruby, pushing to the front with purse in hand. ‘I forgot I’d ordered it. How much do we owe you?’

  Naomi shook her head and disappeared into the kitchen. I watched the street. It had to be Phillip. He was watching us. Laughing at us. He was there. I could feel him. We eyed the pizzas warily, as if Phillip himself had sneaked into the house.

  ‘I don’t get it. Why send pizza?’ I asked.

  ‘Who cares?’ Naomi said. ‘He’s trying to mess with our heads, but the joke’s on him, because we got to eat, right? And I’m not eating any more of that bloody hummus. You’ve got nowt else in the house ’cept tins of palm hearts and jars of chutney.’

  I took a slice of cheese-and-tomato and went to the window. I’d switched all the lights off in the front room, so I could open the shutters and look out onto the night. The street was empty. The sun had long since deserted its post, leaving a night-watchman moon as lookout. What’s going through your mind, Phillip?<
br />
  A blue van pulled up outside the house, blocking the end of the drive. A man in overalls began to walk towards the house.

  ‘Ruby? Nay? We’ve got company.’

  I put the crust of my pizza on the window ledge and headed into the hallway. This time it was me who answered the door, with Ruby and Naomi standing behind. The smiling man pointed at his jacket, at the prominently placed gas-company logo. He pulled a lanyard out of his overalls to show me his picture, and his name in bold capitals.

  ‘Gas Board, love. Reports of a gas leak. That right?’

  ‘No, not from us. Perhaps one of the neighbours?’ I went to close the door.

  ‘Hold on.’ He looked at the black device in his hand and checked something before asking, ‘You didn’t call the emergency number?’

  ‘No, sorry.’

  ‘Rochester?

  ‘Yes, that’s me, but I’m afraid I didn’t make the call. There’s been some … nuisance calls. An ex.’

  I almost smiled. Phillip was playing into my hands. He was hoping to scare us, but instead he was proving himself worthy of a restraining order.

  ‘And you’ve not noticed the small of gas?’

  ‘No, sorry.’

  He laughed. ‘God, don’t apologise, love. And your ex is doing this, you think? What a prat!’

  ‘I know. He’s quite special. I don’t suppose you could note it down on your device thing, in case this escalates? It probably won’t but, you know …’

  ‘I can try, but I don’t know whether anyone’ll look at it. It’ll be on record, if you need to refer to it. You definitely don’t have a problem that you know of then? Just to be sure, before I get home for me tea?’

  ‘I’m certain that we haven’t noticed a gas leak.’

  I watched him walk back to his van. I was sure Phillip’s eyes were on me, watching every move, listening to every word. I didn’t want him to think I was scared, so I stood there for five defiant minutes, breathing in the night air, glaring at shadows and pretending I wasn’t scared by his petty games. If he wanted to remind us that he was out there somewhere, it was working a treat. I couldn’t settle. Waiting.

  Waiting.

  Giving him enough rope to hang himself.

  I closed the door and Naomi said, ‘What the hell’s he playing at?’

  I made a note of the time and date, and wrote the name I’d seen on the gas man’s identity card. With Mary to back up my story about the brick, and the note about nuisance calls to the Gas Board, I was getting closer to a restraining order.

  ‘Can I borrow your phone?’ I asked Naomi. ‘Phillip’s still got mine.’

  I scrolled through Naomi’s contacts until I found Phillip’s number and then I sent him a text: Is that all you’ve got?

  TWENTY-SIX

  10 days before the funeral

  I was happy for Phillip to keep sending a stream of unsuspecting people to my door. It all added to the case I was putting together to prove that he was harassing me. It would be nice to think I would be able to get Phillip arrested, but until I spoke to DC Chris Miller, I wasn’t sure I had enough on him.

  Nine o’clock. Ten o’clock. Ruby was sniffling and I didn’t even try to comfort her. It was mainly the dogs, she said, but also how could Phillip be doing this to us, to her? And then she would cry again, pulling tissue after tissue out of the box like a magician pulling a string of flags from his sleeve.

  There was something at the back of my mind – a faint buzz like a bee was trapped in my brain. I shook my head and it quieted for a while.

  A car beeped outside. Close by. Three sharp hits of the horn. Ruby stopped crying, Naomi stood up and I grinned. The more pranks Phillip pulled now, the better my case was going to look. Another longer beep sounded and Naomi went to the window.

  ‘Don’t know what this one is,’ said Naomi. ‘I hope it’s Chinese. I could murder a spring roll.’

  The man stayed in the car and we stayed at the window. After five minutes he pulled himself out of the car, hitching up his trousers, and waddled up the drive. Ruby and Naomi went to meet him while I stayed at the window, watching. I scanned the shadows, looking for Phillip.

  ‘Taxi,’ the man said.

  ‘Sorry, you’ve got the wrong house. We’ve not ordered one.’ Ruby was polite and warm. The taxi driver said nothing, simply sighed and wobbled away without discussion. I wondered how many hours of people’s lives would be wasted on Phillip and his schemes, but it was another incident to add to my growing list.

  I couldn’t work out what Phillip was playing at. We were unsettled and confused, but his childish antics were more annoying than terrifying. Ruby was on her feet, bustling about, plumping up cushions and straightening rugs.

  ‘I wouldn’t take too much notice of it. It’s just the equivalent of him ringing the doorbell and running away. He’s a big kid. Ignore it.’

  ‘That’s it,’ I said. ‘I’ve had enough. I’m not answering any more calls or doors. I’m going to bed. I’m locking the doors and shutters and am going to try my best to get some sleep.’

  We made our drinks for the night. Brandy for Naomi, water for me and chamomile tea for Ruby. Naomi had her last smoke of the day and left her lighter and cigarettes by the back door for a quick nicotine fix in the morning.

  We checked that the doors were locked. Windows too. He wasn’t getting in tonight. Bolts, chains, chairs under doorknobs. Tonight we would sleep. Tomorrow we would compile more evidence against him. I pocketed my mobile and switched off the lights.

  I followed the others up the stairs and paused at the top to look at the messages on my phone. There was one missed call from an unknown number. I looked down the stairs and then back at my phone.

  ‘Naomi,’ I said urgently. ‘Naomi!’

  ‘What?’

  She came over to where I stood. I held out my mobile.

  ‘What?’ she said. ‘What am I looking at?’

  ‘The phone.’

  My hand began to shake. My chest was being crushed. I sucked air into my lungs, feeling like they were shutting down.

  I watched as it dawned on her. Her eyes met mine.

  ‘But you didn’t have your phone,’ she said quietly.

  I shook my head. My breath was coming quickly. Phillip had taken it when we were in the cellar.

  Ruby craned her neck round the bedroom doorway. ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  ‘Imogen’s phone’s turned up,’ said Naomi.

  Ruby ducked into the bedroom and called out, ‘I didn’t know you lost it.’

  ‘I probably didn’t. I thought I had, but perhaps it was here all along,’ I said weakly.

  She called back, ‘Mind if I use your en suite, darling?’

  ‘Help yourself.’

  ‘Yeah, I bet that’s it,’ Naomi said loudly. ‘God, you had me scared for a minute then.’

  She put her hand over her heart and rolled her eyes – playing too hard at being fine – and handed my phone back to me.

  We were both thinking the same thing. My phone hadn’t been here earlier. We were certain Phillip had taken it, so how had it found its way back into the house?

  Naomi took my arm and pulled me into the spare room, where we could keep an eye on my bedroom door.

  ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ she asked. ‘There’s another possibility, isn’t there? Who was here all day while we were tracking down Alistair and going to the airport? Ruby’s the only one who could have let him in. She was the only one he didn’t hit when he locked us up. She’s the one who’s always sticking up for him. And the dogs? He’s probably taken them somewhere for her. If he’d just let them free, someone would have spotted them by now. I don’t buy the act.’

  ‘You think he’s been back to the house while we were out?’

  ‘Makes sense,’ Naomi said.

  ‘But her car …’ I began. For everything I’d suspected Ruby of over the years, I still hoped that I was wrong. If she’d lied about Phillip, what else had she lied a
bout?

  ‘Like you said, it’s just a car. Easier to fix than a broken nose.’

  ‘All this time she’s been listening to us and reporting back to him. She’s more devious than I gave her credit for.’

  I thought back to the car accident and the blue car that conveniently disappeared.

  I lowered my voice. ‘Don’t say anything yet. We could use this to our advantage.’

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  9 days before the funeral

  I didn’t want to believe that Ruby was helping Phillip, but now the idea was in my head, it was difficult to shake. I had images of her letting him into the house in the middle of the night. Of waking to find him standing over me with a knife. The knife that was missing from the kitchen. Did she have it? Should I be more worried about her attacking me in the night?

  We lay in semi-darkness. Ruby was by my side, in bed with me. Naomi was on a doubled-up duvet on the floor. I let them think I was fearful and wouldn’t be able to sleep on my own, knowing that Phillip was out there somewhere, when the reality was that I wouldn’t let them out of my sight. I wouldn’t have either of them slipping away and letting Phillip in. I doubted Naomi would be helping him, but mere hours ago I would have said the same about Ruby.

  Naomi and Ruby fell asleep a little after 1 a.m. Hearing the breathing of other people in the room, the rustle of bed sheets, was both a comfort and a distraction. Naomi’s breathing was quick and heavy, suggestive of active dreams and a troubled mind. Ruby slept on her back and snored. I felt my eyes closing of their own accord and blinked them open suddenly. I pinched the inside of my thigh. I wouldn’t let myself fall asleep tonight.

  I’d thought we were all becoming friends and now, thanks to Phillip, I was keeping them at arm’s length again. It was as I’d always suspected: I could only rely on myself. I looked at Ruby, wondering whether she was plotting to bring my family down. If Naomi and I were right, then the sooner I sent Ruby back to Brighton, where she could no longer spy on me, the better. But if Naomi was bluffing and she was the one betraying me … No, there was no way Naomi would help Phillip after he had tried to kill her. If it was anyone, it was Ruby. Kind, compassionate Ruby. I wanted to cry with frustration at my own stupidity. This is what happened when you trusted someone. Phillip was still outsmarting me, still making us all dance to his tune.