Since finding Jane’s suitcase two weeks ago, I’d barely thought of anything else. On the third day of January, though, I was thinking about Milly instead. I was on my way to see her, and we were meeting by the harbour.
The sea was boiling. The wind was howling. The waves were moving walls of rock. Milly and I would never take the safer, drier lanes through the town. Like teenagers, we stuck to the path that followed the sea wall. Spray shot out and up, chasing us. We knew we really could be snatched and swallowed. It had happened to others before.
We threw our arms around each other, grabbed hands and ran through a gauntlet of water, screaming and laughing our calls of Happy New Year, refusing to worry about slipping, stopping to buy chips at one of the cafes along the harbour. There was a belated rendition of Happy Birthday, sung by Milly to me.
We turned on to the eighteenth-century pier, passing walls of stacked lobster pots, jumbo bags of green rope, and red plastic crates for hauling the dead mackerel from the boats to the land. The smell made me gag, but Milly didn’t notice and we walked on to the pier’s far end, where the air was clear.
Our feet were soaked, our hair was drenched, and we were shivering. But we were happy, sitting on the stone bench that followed the wall of the pier and doubled as our backrest. We were burning our fingers on the chips.
I scrambled to my feet, standing on the bench to look over the wall, so I could watch the lighthouse winking in the distance. Milly did the same.
‘I’ve missed you,’ she said.
I pictured the two of us, dancing together in a nightclub upcountry to celebrate my sixteenth birthday, our arms around each other, tinsel in our hair and swaying in heels too high to walk in, the room and lights spinning from too many bottles of beer, elated that we had pulled it off despite being underage.
‘Me too you,’ I said.
‘My mother says you have a father complex, because of your dad dying and all. She says that’s what you see in Zac.’
‘Eew. That’s not true.’ Though a part of me knew it was. Still, I blushed at the idea of Peggy thinking that.
‘We’re neglecting the blog,’ Milly said. ‘We’ll lose followers.’
‘I’ll do something this week. Wuthering Heights has been getting a lot of hate.’
‘Mum will be happy. She’s our number one fan. But have I told you lately she is completely insane? We crossed on the stairs, and she closed her eyes and chanted “Avert” and waved her hands about. Honestly, it was the most embarrassing thing.’
‘Did she pick that up when we made her read The Earthsea Quartet?’
‘Yep, but she won’t admit she’s trying to ward off curses or bad luck. She’d die before she confessed to any superstition about stair crossing.’
‘Have I told you lately that I am an orphan, and you are lucky to have a mum?’
‘Well you have Lord Voldemort. I can’t believe he let you out. Does he make you sleep in a dungeon?’
‘Yes – but don’t call him that, Milly.’
‘I’ll see your Lord Voldemort and raise you a Gaston.’
‘Fair enough. I deserved that.’
‘Looks like Lord Voldemort. Acts like Lord Voldemort. He’s even got the bald thing going on. Please tell me he hasn’t branded you with the dark mark.’
‘Only between my legs.’
She snorted a mouthful of the beer she’d brought out from the pub, the last place in the row of shops and restaurants along the front, and the closest one to the pier. I was drinking spiced tomato juice, and Milly thought this was because I was driving, which was true but not the most important reason.
‘You’re still in there after all,’ she said. ‘I was beginning to think he’d replaced you with a Stepford wife. Thank God the two of you aren’t married.’
‘He wants to.’
‘Well don’t. Please, promise me you won’t.’
My own secret voice was saying, You’re betraying him to sit and listen to this. You should say, How dare you talk about him that way. You should go home right now.
‘You’ll never escape him if you do,’ she said.
‘I don’t want to escape him.’ I thought of my baby, and how desperately I wanted him – or her – to be raised by two parents. To have what I didn’t.
‘Has he taken control of your bank accounts yet?’
‘No! I wouldn’t let him. But he wouldn’t try.’ As if to protect my baby from what we were saying, my hand started to float towards my tummy, though there wasn’t much of a bump yet. I had wanted to tell Milly about the baby several weeks ago, but Zac persuaded me that nobody should share such news until after the magic three-month mark, when the chance of miscarriage was dramatically reduced. The start of January meant I had reached that mark.
Milly looked genuinely surprised. ‘No joint accounts?’
‘No.’
‘Strange. That’s not what I’d have predicted. He’s not tried to get his name on the deed to your house?’
I was lucky, in that I had the house my parents left me, plus some money from my father’s pension. But I was still careful to live off my salary.
‘Of course not. He’s generous – too generous – but he likes to keep his things and mine legally separate. It’s a big thing with him, and it’s important to me too, because of my grandmother.’
My grandmother had savings from the sale of the family farm many years ago, and I was using them to fund her care. But the money was being eaten away fast, and it wouldn’t be long before I had to take over the cost.
Milly shook her head. Her blonde hair gleamed in the moonlight, then dimmed as a heavy cloud moved in front of the full fat moon again to eclipse it. ‘Okay. I have to admit that that stumps me.’
‘Why do you hate him so much, Milly?’
‘He hates me.’
‘He doesn’t.’ We were back in total darkness, feeling the mist from the sea but unable to see it. ‘He wants to get to know you.’
‘No he doesn’t. Question. Did you tell him we were meeting tonight?’
‘He’s on nights tonight.’
‘I know that, Holly – I saw him going in as I was coming out. That’s not an answer. You could have told him yesterday or this morning. Does he know?’
‘No.’
‘I knew it. That’s why we’re here. If you’d told him, he’d have got in the way. You know it too. You’re just not admitting it to yourself. He’s found ten different ways to stop us spending time together over the last few weeks.’
We turned away from the wall, facing the harbour once more. ‘It was the time of year, Milly.’ I sat down again. ‘You said so yourself.’
‘I was trying to make it easy for you.’ She sat too. ‘Do you ever make calls without his being there?’
‘All the time.’ But I realised this wasn’t true. Somehow Zac was invariably nearby when I used my phone.
Milly went on. ‘He may not be controlling your money yet, but you will get sick of him, and when you try to leave he won’t make it easy. Mum and I are frightened. He’s cutting you off from us.’
I tried to lighten things. ‘Isn’t this a bit dramatic? I want to make a family with him. I want to make what you grew up in.’
‘And he fucking well knows it. He’s playing you. He’s saying what you want to hear.’
‘He’s loving. He cares for me.’ I threw up my hands, invisible in the darkness. ‘I matter to him.’
‘Of course you do. More than anything in the world. I’ve heard him say it and that’s what scares me. He chose you because he thinks you have no one. He thinks you’re all alone. But he’s wrong. You have us.’
Although I never felt the cold since becoming pregnant, I shivered. ‘I know that.’
‘Well don’t ever forget it.’ The light slowly returned as the cloud moved sideways to reveal the moon. Milly pulled away to study me. ‘At least you’re starting to look more like you again. Your face isn’t so thin and pale. And I love what you’re wearing.’
‘Chosen for you.’ I loved what I was wearing too. Green ankle boots, bobbled red wool tights, a short mustard tube skirt, and a fleecy orange jumper to disguise my thickening waist. I unzipped my coat and flashed the full view at Milly.
‘And Rainbow Girl is back!’ she said. ‘Goodbye, Grey Woman. Hello there, Rainbow Girl. We’ve missed you. I much prefer you in clothes I need to wear sunglasses to look at.’
‘Hello.’ I zipped up again.
‘Oh, don’t put it away. I want a pic to show Mum.’ Milly’s teeth were chattering.
‘You won’t get a pic out here. Not with the light changing every five seconds.’ The moon was flashing at us, off, on, off, on, as a procession of clouds sped past to eclipse and uncover her. She seemed to mirror the lighthouse’s lamp. For an instant, I glimpsed a frown that Milly didn’t imagine I could see. ‘How’s Gaston?’ I said.
‘I hate him so much,’ Milly said, ‘that I want him to die, because then I would get over him. But I can’t stop fucking him.’
It was my turn to snort my drink.
Milly went on. ‘I hate how he puts that fucking gross hairspray on that fucking gross long hair of his, and I wish it would catch fire when he fills that fucking gross old wreck of a car of his with petrol.’ She paused. ‘Look how – odd – you look.’
‘I’m making my disgusted face.’ I pulled her close, put an arm around her, tipped her head forward so I could kiss the top. ‘Let’s not tell anybody about this conversation, because if anything bad does happen to Gaston, they’re going to look at you.’
‘I love the sex, that’s all. Do you think I could be addicted to him sexually?’
‘Eww,’ I said, for the second time that night. ‘Now I’m making my I’m-about-to-be-sick face.’
‘Seriously, Holly.’
‘I absolutely do think you’re addicted, and you’re in desperate need of therapy.’
‘I can’t get over him.’ Her voice choked, and she started to cry. She curled up on her side of the bench and put her head in my lap, and I played with her hair. When she sat up again, I took her hand.
‘I’m cold,’ she said. Her teeth were chattering, and I snuggled her close. Neither of us had remembered to bring mittens.
‘There’s nothing of you to keep warm. Shall we go in, get another drink? Something hot.’
‘Holly?’
‘Yes, Milly?’
‘I’m really going to try to stop fucking him.’
‘Okay,’ I said.
‘Will you be mad at me if I can’t?’
‘Of course not.’ I gently touched a finger to her cheek, to wipe away a tear that she’d missed. ‘But I’ll be mad at him no matter what you do.’
The pub was quiet. Milly and I stood at the bar beneath the silver tankards that hung like a string of Christmas decorations. They were entwined with red and green ribbons and strands of gold beads. We got served straightaway, then made our way to the wood fire, where we stripped off our coats and huddled close. I sipped warm apple juice and Milly had mulled wine. The scent of cinnamon and cloves steamed up at us, and I was not feeling at all sick.
This was a quiet place to tell her my news, but I hesitated, when she was so traumatised by Gaston. At the same time, I was scared she’d be hurt that I had waited so long. Not to tell her immediately would make that longer still. Plus, she’d see it as yet more evidence that Zac the Evil was dictating everything I did, and how and when I did it.
I took a deep breath and leaned in close. ‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ I started to say. But before I could go any further, she froze. I turned to look at whatever had struck her with such horror. My words stuck in my throat.
‘Hello, beautiful,’ Zac said to me. ‘Hello, Milly,’ he said to Milly.
Milly stood. I made an effort to convert the sadness I was feeling into a cheerful tone, turning the inflection up on the last word. ‘Oh no – no – don’t go yet.’
‘I have to.’
‘I was going to drive you home.’
‘I’ll get a taxi.’ Already she was moving away.
I didn’t take my eyes from her, and when her shining bright head was gone, I felt as if the light in the room had dimmed, and I wanted to cry.
‘You changed your clothes,’ Zac said.
‘Yes.’ I’d been wearing one of the elegant tweed shifts Zac bought for my birthday, along with a silk blouse and cashmere cardigan he’d also stuck in the package.
‘Why?’
‘I felt like it.’
‘I thought you loved the things I chose for you. It pleased me that you did.’
‘I do love them. But I love the things I choose for myself, too.’
To my relief, he let it go. ‘Your friend hates me.’ He sounded hurt.
‘She doesn’t.’
‘Her parents hate me too.’ He jutted out his chin, and I saw again why he wanted me to move into his rented house – why he was so passionately averse to living next door to James and Peggy. It seemed fair, too, when he was only staying in Cornwall for me. He went on. ‘They’re too possessive of you.’ His feet were flat on the floor, his elbows on the table.
Since that failed MI5 interview three and a half years ago, I had tried to shut down every bit of tradecraft I ever learned. But just as my Spanish resurfaced with the name Molinero, Zac finding me in the pub pricked at me too. I weighed it alongside something else I’d repressed. The way he turned back from his journey to London and caught me looking through his old suitcases.
I made myself say the difficult thing. I couldn’t turn away from it. ‘How did you know I was here, Zac?’ I watched him carefully as he answered.
He coloured slightly, and flattened the tone and speed of his speech. ‘I saw your car. I was worried about you being out on a night like this. I wanted to find you and get you home safely.’
‘You were on nights tonight. Milly saw you at the hospital.’
‘What? Is she a private detective now?’ Though his upper body was still, he was vibrating his knees together.
I didn’t understand how he’d got away from the hospital, but all the data was processing through my brain and coming up with one conclusion: he wanted to see what I’d do and where I’d go when I thought he was safely at work.
‘I brought this for you.’ He held out a card. ‘It came to the hospital.’
I studied the envelope. Sent from London, no return address, and obviously opened and then resealed. ‘It’s addressed to me. Why has it been opened?’
He shrugged. ‘Looks like a Christmas card you missed. Hardly top secret.’
‘You chased away my friend, my best friend.’ I swiped at tears, and realised they were made by rage as much as distress.
‘It was her decision to leave.’ He stared hard at me. ‘Are you going to open that?’
‘No.’ I shoved it in my bag but he snatched it out, tore away the envelope’s flap. ‘What is wrong with you? Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?’
But he simply displayed the card to me. Mary and Joseph gazing adoringly down at baby Jesus, and the twinkling night sky above. ‘Who’s Martin?’ he said.
I grabbed it from him. Inside, it said, May we all remember those who love us at this special time of year. Martin. I stood. ‘I’m going home.’
‘I asked you who Martin was.’ Each word was through gritted teeth.
I had only known one Martin in my life, and he was Maxine’s boss at MI5. I would strangle her for this if I could. Had she seriously believed this cryptic message was the way to get me to do what she wanted, despite my saying no? But as furious as I was with her, I was even more furious with Zac.
‘A friend,’ I said.
‘What kind of friend?’
‘A friend of my grandmother’s. He’s about ninety. You should trust me. You shouldn’t open my letters.’
‘I didn’t. It was like that when I picked it up. Must have happened in the post.’
‘I’m not an idiot, Zac.’
‘How did Martin know to address a letter to you at the hospital?’
‘He might have visited my grandmother when she was having a lucid moment, or maybe Peggy ran into him and mentioned what I was doing.’ One lie after another. They came easily.
‘Let me take you home.’
‘I can take myself home.’
I rushed into the house ahead of Zac. He had tailed me the whole way, stalking after me on foot as I stomped from the pub to my car, which must have looked absurd, then following close behind as I drove – he had to run a red light to keep up. I slammed the front door without waiting for him. Let him use his own key.
I went straight to the bathroom and struggled to turn the lock. As ever, it stuck and resisted before scraping loudly when it finally moved. I could hear Zac shouting from downstairs, then bounding up, his voice growing closer.
‘Don’t walk away from me, Holly. You know I hate that. It’s cruel. It’s a form of abuse. It’s not the way to treat people.’
‘I’m getting in the shower,’ I said.
‘The fault is always on both sides,’ he said. ‘It isn’t all me.’
‘Yes it is.’ I turned on the water to muffle his voice and began to take off my things, dropping my coat on the floor.
He was banging so hard on the door I jumped with each bash of his fist against the wood.
He was shouting, and rattling the handle to try to break the lock. His face must have been right against the wood. ‘What you’re doing to me is hateful,’ he said.
I took my smartphone from my handbag and examined it. Had he put a tracker on it? Spyware? I couldn’t think of any other way for him to find me. It would explain why the battery had been bleeding out lately – I’d been telling myself it was what happened to phones after a few years, to get you to buy a new model. I decided to reinstall the operating system as soon as I could – that should remove anything.
‘I’m out here waiting for you.’ He had changed tack, using the patient, disappointed voice of a reasonable adult speaking to a toddler in the grip of a tantrum. ‘Still here.’ I pictured him sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at the bathroom door.
I put the phone away and took off the rest of my clothes, adding them to the messy pile on the floor. I used a towel to clear the mist from the looking glass, then stared at myself, fascinated by the vivid blue veins criss-crossing my breasts like roads on a pale map. I pressed one of them lightly, astonished by how tender and swollen it was. My breasts had grown a whole size.
As I stepped into the shower, something caught my eye. My pale pink underclothes, the last things I took off, were at the top of the pile, and they were spotted red with blood.
After I screamed Zac’s name and struggled to get the door unlocked and he crashed into the bathroom to find me completely hysterical. After Zac drove me to the hospital and then used his magic to get them to take me to the closed obstetric clinic to scan me. After we cried to see our baby’s beating heart and perfectly human profile where I expected only a blob. After Zac said that it must be a girl because she was beautiful and looked exactly like me. After they told me that bleeding in pregnancy was common, and the baby’s heartbeat and size meant that we were statistically likely to have a good outcome. After Zac made me promise not to run around again on dark and stormy nights. After I promised not to fight him, and to let him look after me. After I refused to quit my job but agreed to go part-time. After he promised that he wouldn’t let anything happen to our baby, and made me believe him. After all of those things happened, I fell asleep in his arms.