by Sanjida Kay
‘It won’t work. I cut off your landline.’
It was Aaron. He was dressed entirely in black: black boots, black trousers, a black jacket and a black woollen hat.
‘A precaution.’
He was standing in front of the stairs leading up to Autumn’s bedroom.
‘I’m assuming they’re both in here,’ he said, looking up.
Aaron took the stairs two at a time. Laura ran after him. He burst into her daughter’s room and turned on the light. He scanned the space – the boxes of upended toys, the bed covers tossed on the floor, the empty bed, the open wardrobe.
‘Get out of the dolls’ house. Now.’
After a moment, Levi pushed the little wooden door open and he and Autumn climbed out.
‘Your son!’ Laura shouted. ‘You must believe me now! He broke into our house in the middle of the night to frighten my daughter.’
Aaron inclined his head. There was a long moment of silence. She could hear the rise and fall of Autumn’s breaths.
‘Well, now we have a real problem,’ Aaron said eventually. ‘Both of you are here. Both of you know what Levi has done.’
‘God knows what he was planning on doing! He said he was going to punish her!’
‘But no one else knows that. And no one else knows we’re here.’
It was not what she expected him to say. She took a step forwards, stretching out her hands towards Autumn. Aaron moved in front of both children, barring her way.
‘You know how important my son is to me,’ he continued quietly. ‘I love him. I want him. I want him with me. I want his mother out of his life. I have worked hard for this. I live in a slum and I work every goddamn hour, all hours of the fucking day and night, to try and raise the capital to pay blood-sucking solicitors extortionate sums to ensure I will get custody of Levi.’ A muscle in his jaw worked and his voice rose in power and fury. ‘And no one is going to fuck it up. Not my son, not your manipulative little girl, and certainly not you.’
Aaron’s fists were clenched and Laura thought of those hands, hovering over her laptop, his fingers fine and strong, almost stroking the keys, and how he’d laid his hands in his lap, fingers intertwined, as he’d quietly spoken of stars and planets. She’d thought of touching those hands, of them touching her… Yet this was a man who abused his own son. And she had let him into her home, into her life. She had hurt his child and all that followed had been the result of that single, thoughtless action. Laura desperately tried to think of what she could say, how she could stop him. Autumn gave a tiny whimper.
‘The thing is,’ he said more quietly, rocking backwards and forwards on his toes and heels, as if warming to his topic, hooking his thumbs in his jacket pockets, ‘the thing is, my son is a good, decent boy. He’s just had a lot to deal with, with the divorce and so on. I must admit, I was surprised that he really was bullying her and it wasn’t some racist little tale you’d made up to kick him out of school. But, for some reason, your daughter’s a temptation for him. God knows why. He can’t help himself.’
He took a step towards her. His eyes had not once left her face. She could see he was barely managing to control his rage and was trembling with the effort.
‘I’ve tried to warn you. God knows how hard I’ve tried. I hoped you’d get the message.’ A sliver of light from the street lamp outside sliced across his sharp cheek bones. ‘I thought you’d back off, take your daughter out of that school. But you’re too stupid. Too stubborn. I think it’s you who needs to be punished. It’s you who needs to be taught a lesson.’
Behind Aaron, Laura saw headlights breaking against the window through the half-open curtain.
Thank God!
Aaron saw the expression of relief on her face. ‘Is this someone coming to see you?’ He peered through the crack in the curtains and then stepped swiftly away. ‘It’s a Land Rover. Your Marine friend drives one.’ He looked at her suspiciously. ‘Did you call him?’ He sounded incredulous. ‘Your mobile is in the kitchen. I cut off your landline. I disabled your Internet. My idiot son has thrown his mobile out of the window. ’
She felt relief wash through her. It was over. It was finally over. ‘Sometimes he comes round, for a drink.’
‘At this time of night?’
‘He’s lonely. And I can’t go out. I don’t know any babysitters.’
‘Make him go.’
‘You could leave now,’ said Laura, her mouth dry, her voice harsh. ‘Out the back, before he gets here.’
There was the sound of a door slamming and footsteps on the pavement below.
Aaron shook his head. ‘And have you tell him what my son did? Risk him calling the police? I’d lose my custody battle. No. You have to get rid of him. I don’t care how you do it. Make him go home.’
‘And why would I do that?’ she whispered.
‘Because I have your daughter,’ he said.
In one swift movement, he reached behind him and seized Autumn, dragging her in front of him. He put his hand over her mouth, forcing her chin up, her head back.
A spike of adrenaline hit Laura, turning her palms clammy, accelerating her heart rate.
‘I could snap her neck,’ he said, almost conversationally. ‘Why take that risk?’ The silver charm on his leather cuff glinted in the light; for a moment, it rested on his wrist bone: it was a small sword.
Autumn’s eyes opened wide with terror, as she struggled to stand upright.
He has my daughter.
She looked at her child, the love of her life, and in that instant, she saw her as everything she had been and all that she might be: all that could be cut short here tonight.
She’s two years old and she sees the sea for the first time. She shrieks with laughter as a small, foamy wave glides over her pudgy foot and then she cries. She’s five years old and she tries an olive in a restaurant for the first time. Her mouth puckers up and her eyes water and she’s saying, I like it, I like it. She’s just turned eight and she has a new pink bike and she’s clapping her hands with delight and saying, I love you, Mummy! She’s ten years old. She’s standing in front of her paintings. She says she’s going to be an artist when she grows up. She’s fifteen and she’s wearing a mini-skirt that’s far too short and she’s trying on silver eyeshadow. She looks unbearably grown-up and terribly young. She’s at art college. She’s showing Laura her final degree show. Laura’s toasting her with champagne and she has her arm around a boy and her eyes are bright and soft.
There was a knock at the door and then the doorbell rang.
Laura opened her mouth to speak, to protest. She looked at Levi. He was staring intently at her. Was he trying to scare her, to back up his father? And then she realized. The boy was beseeching her. He dropped his gaze. Laura backed away. She ran down the stairs. She paused in front of the door to try and collect herself. She unlocked it and opened it a crack.
Jacob was standing on the pavement outside. His jumper was rumpled, as if he’d dressed and driven here quickly, not even stopping to put on a coat. She made an elaborate act of yawning and said, as sleepily as she could in her wired state, ‘It’s the middle of the night, Jacob. What are you doing here?’
‘I got a text from Autumn,’ he said tersely. ‘Is she here?’
She shook her head, still keeping the door only partially open. ‘Everything is fine. She’s in bed. I’ve just checked on her.’
Under the orange glare of the street lamp, his shirt seemed to fluoresce. Pools of rainwater lay on the road, black as Tarmac, an iridescent scum splintered across their surface.
‘What’s going on, Laura?’
Laura closed her eyes for a moment and saw Autumn, her neck like the stalk of a flower in Aaron’s hands.
‘Autumn was having a nightmare. She’s okay, though.’
‘Can I come in?’ he asked.
‘It’s the
middle of the night. I’m shattered.’ She struggled to keep the high-pitched note of hysteria out of her voice. ‘I’ve been woken by Autumn already. I really need to get some sleep.’
She leant out of the door and looked up at her daughter’s window. As she did so, the light went out. In the darkness, something white flickered against the pane. Her heart trembled. It was the curtains. Only the curtains. She looked from the stone sill down to the ground. Such a long way to fall. There was no way they could jump. She shivered.
‘There’s nothing wrong. She’s fine, Jacob. I don’t know why she sent you a text. It must have been a mistake. She was just messing around. Checking her mobile was working. The screen is smashed to bits. It doesn’t look like you could use the phone at all. But honestly, she’s okay. Please just go home.’
She didn’t know if he’d forgiven her. He’d said, You no longer exist for me… But she knew that he still cared about Autumn, no matter what he thought of her. Was there some way to tell him what was happening? Could she risk whispering to him? But then he would follow her inside and Aaron would hear him thundering up the stairs towards him and by then it could be too late… She wondered whether to retrieve her mobile, but Aaron would notice any delay returning to him. And she had nowhere to hide it. She couldn’t do anything that would put her daughter’s life at risk.
‘She’s in my bed now so hopefully we’ll both get some sleep now. Goodnight, Jacob.’
She shut and locked the door. She thought of her one British Military Fitness class, the afternoon she’d spent learning self-defence skills with Jacob: a couple of hours punching a bag in front of an ex-Marine. It didn’t amount to much; she was still a relatively unfit woman in her thirties with a small child. It hardly equipped her to confront a man in his prime with a black belt in martial arts. Jacob had been talking about some psycho in a pub, a mugger in a dark alley. He had not been thinking of this scenario, facing a man both skilled and deadly, whose reactions were faster than she would have believed possible. If she tried to kick him, or punch him in the face, he would block her blow and then he would be upon her. She’d never been hit or cut in her life; she hadn’t even broken a bone. The thought of the pain Aaron could inflict made her feel ill. There was nothing she would not do to save Autumn – she would rather die than see her child harmed. But if Aaron hurt her badly, maimed her, even killed her, she would not be able to protect her daughter.
She had to do something to get Autumn away from him. She looked around for something, anything that could help her. Lying in the open living room doorway was her toolbox, the contents scattered across the floor, the Ikea instruction book open on the Chinese translation in front of a stack of wooden shelves. She raced up to Autumn’s bedroom, praying that nothing had happened to her child.
She entered her daughter’s bedroom. Aaron was in exactly the same position he’d been in when she’d left him, one arm resting on Autumn’s throat, his other hand over her mouth. Self-defence was not an option, not as long as he held Autumn’s neck between his hands. Levi was in front of Aaron though, slumped on the bed with his head hanging. As Laura entered the room, Aaron backed over to the window and watched through the crack in the curtains until Jacob’s car drove away. Then he relaxed his grip on Autumn. Her daughter started to run towards her, but Aaron grabbed her arm.
‘Not so fast,’ he said, and pulled her back.
‘Dad,’ said Levi, standing up, ‘let her go.’
Aaron moved so quickly, Laura didn’t have time to react. He lashed out at the boy. Levi’s head jerked back with sickening speed. He collapsed on the floor in front of her. Slowly, keeping an eye on Aaron, Laura stretched out one hand. She grasped the boy’s wrist and then his forearm and levered him upright. He rocked on the balls of his feet, dazed, and wiped his face on the back of his hand, leaving a smear of blood.
‘We have to establish some ground rules,’ said Aaron.
‘Please let Autumn come over here to me. You’re frightening her. We’re not going anywhere. Jacob has left. I told him I wasn’t up for a drink. He’s got no idea there’s anything wrong, that you’re here. What can the two of us do to you?’
As she was speaking, trying to make her voice level and soothing, her eye caught sight of Autumn’s mobile, now half under her bed. Aaron must have knocked it there without noticing. She prayed Jacob hadn’t abandoned them, that somehow he would realize there was something wrong. In the meantime, there was every chance Aaron would panic and do something rash. She had to get Autumn away from him – and fast. She stumbled as she was talking and looked back at him. Aaron was not fooled. He followed the direction of her gaze.
He yanked the bed over, still gripping Autumn’s arm, and seized the phone. He threw it on the bed.
‘Whose is this?’
‘Autumn’s.’
Aaron pressed a button.
‘You sent Jacob a text,’ he said, looking down at Autumn. ‘“Help.”’ He read it out loud.
‘No,’ said Laura. ‘I did. Jacob won’t abandon us. He’ll call the police. You’ve got minutes to get out of this house.’
She had to get her daughter away from him. Autumn. That was what it was all for. She had sworn, since the day her daughter was born, that she would do anything and everything she could to protect her. She loved her. She loved her more than life itself. Aaron was a man who believed in a pure vision of the world, as rational and senseless as computer code. He’d hacked into her laptop and read everything; he thought he knew her in her entirety. But he did not know her. Aaron, she thought, did not understand love. The fierceness of it. The absoluteness of it. How all-encompassing love was. There was only one thing left that she could do, that she had to do, whatever happened.
She turned Levi gently towards her and took his hand. His fingers were cold. He stood level with her, a scared child, a boy with a split lip.
‘Levi,’ she said, ‘there’s something I need to tell you.’
‘Get your hands off my son,’ growled Aaron.
‘I’m sorry I pushed you. I’m sorry you fell and you cut your face. I should never have done that. It was unforgivable. I can never undo what I did, or make it up to you. But I’m truly sorry.’
His mouth twisted in anger. She thought he was going to pull away. She pressed his fingers tightly between hers. He was about to spit at her, kick her in the shins. She squeezed his hand again and for a moment they stared at each other. Then she put one arm around him and hugged him. He stood rigidly in her embrace, resisting her. She expected him to shove her backwards as hard as he could. But then the child leant against her. He smelt of soap and rain. She could feel his heart-beat, his breath hot and uneven against her neck. Slowly he pulled himself upright and turned to face his father.
‘Dad,’ said Levi, ‘you should go. That guy’ll come back. You know he will.’
‘I should go?’
Laura stretched out her hand to Autumn and this time Aaron, staring at his son, released the girl. She pulled Autumn towards her. Autumn pressed her face into her breast bone and wrapped her arms around Laura’s waist. Autumn’s shoulders were heaving, her heart vibrating in her frail body. She cupped her daughter’s head with one hand, Autumn’s short hair silken against her palm.
The boy spoke in a whisper; she could barely hear him. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘You should go.’
There was silence for a brief moment. It was quiet enough to hear the wind rattling the glass in the half-open window. Then Aaron roared with rage. Laura pushed the children behind her. As he sprang towards her, arms outstretched, she let the screwdriver slide down her dressing gown sleeve, the metal warm where it had been pressed into her skin. Aaron’s hands closed around her throat and she staggered backwards as she caught the handle in her palm. She drove the blade into his chest with both hands and his weight, bearing down on her, helped ram it between his ribs until it was buried up to the hilt in his flesh. His blood was
hot against her knuckles. He staggered, letting go of her, and fell to his knees. She gasped, drawing in a long, shuddering breath. She opened Autumn’s bedroom door, her wet hands sliding on the door knob.
‘Get out! Get out of the house!’ she shouted, pushing the children through.
She was stepping over his semi-prone body when Aaron hauled himself upright and turned to face her, blocking her exit. His breath was wheezy and he clutched his chest with one hand. She stepped backwards, away from him, but not fast enough. She didn’t even see his fist.
Right hook.
Some part of her brain registered what had happened, but now she was on the floor, aeons away from the safety of the door, her vision a blur of magenta, the pain in her jaw searing all the way into her skull and down her spine, a high-pitched singing in her ears. He was coming for her again. She grabbed hold of the edge of the Wendy house and used it to lever herself to her feet. Saliva slid from the corner of her lips. She couldn’t close her mouth properly. The pain was excruciating.
Broken. Jaw.
As he pulled his fist back to strike her again, she remembered what Jacob had said: You must retaliate with a pre-emptive strike: full intensity, all-out aggression.
She held up her arm to deflect the blow. Her forearm, connecting with his fist, went numb. She grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled him towards her. He was still moving forwards with the momentum of his punch, so close she could feel his breath on her face. She swivelled on her heel, swinging him outwards, and then she was pushing him with all her might, with all her strength, one hand driving the screwdriver further into his chest, and he was screaming into her face before he smashed into the half-open window, the beautiful, old Edwardian window with its rotten wooden sash through which the wind whistled through.