NICK

Saturday, 14 April 2018 Day Zero

HE SITS IN HIS STUDY, STARING AT THE BLANK SCREEN. Grace is upstairs, running a bath. He’s moved the keyboard out of the way and has a sheet of paper in front of him. It won’t do. He can’t hide behind a letter, he needs to tell her to her face and be man enough to take the consequences. He trails his pen across the next line, then sighs, and writes, I’m sorry. I am so sorry. Please forgive me. Then he crumples it up and throws it in the bin. Why did he ask her to marry him? He should have waited until all this was sorted out. It had been an impulse, and it came from the wrong place, a place of loneliness and fear. He had wanted to tie her to him. Stupid.

He stretches his legs out, folds his arms across his chest and leans his head back. He stares at the ceiling until it blurs, then groans and takes the screwed-up sheet out of the dustbin, smooths it out, folds it and shoves it into his back pocket. He can’t risk it being found.

He goes out on to the landing and calls her name. She comes out of the bedroom, wrapped in a towel, her hair bunched up.

‘I’m just nipping out,’ he says.

‘But it’s almost nine o’clock. Why do you need to go now?’

‘Tension headache. I need air.’

‘OK, darling.’ She pauses, and he winces inwardly. She’s not happy about it. ‘Don’t be long.’

Downstairs, with uncanny perspicacity, Toffee is waiting underneath his leash.

‘Not this time, boy.’

Nick leads him back into the kitchen where he checks the class address list that Grace keeps stuck to the fridge, then slips out and closes the door on Toffee’s reproachful whine.

He hesitates before he leaves the pub, the taste of whisky still in his mouth, questioning what exactly it is he wants to say to her. Perhaps it was a mistake to come here first, another mistake to have ordered a double. But he needed it and it’s done now anyway.

His phone vibrates in his pocket as he’s turning the corner. He takes it out and glances at the message. It’s an unknown number. The message makes his blood run cold.

Be very careful, Nick. If you take a wrong step now, there will be consequences. You won’t be able to protect Grace or Lottie.

He reads it again. Who is this and how do they know their names? It must be about his conversation with Angus on Friday. Angus had mentioned others, hadn’t he? He had warned Nick that he didn’t know who he was dealing with.

He’s almost ready to forget about Anna and walk away, but that isn’t the way he’s built. One problem at a time. Solve the threat from Anna. It won’t take long. Then he’ll go home and call Angus. He will tell him that he’s changed his mind; that he’ll keep his secret. He won’t do anything that might put Grace and Lottie in danger. The idea makes him feel physically sick, but there’s no alternative. It will be the last time he ever speaks to Angus Moody. He’ll write his letter of resignation tomorrow and think up a convincing story for Grace. He switches his phone off and hurries to Camomile Avenue.

Nick wants Anna to explain and, for Christ’s sake, to see reason. They are not teenagers any more; they are adults with dependants and responsibilities who should be capable of behaving in a considerate and rational manner. Taisie – Anna – has obviously been brewing this for a long time.

He rings the bell, then bangs on the door for good measure. The lights are off, but he has a feeling she’s in, and that she knows it’s him. When no one comes he steps back and looks up. He can see nothing, but he senses energy, movement behind the dark window. He’s woken her, maybe her son as well. Finally, he hears heavy footsteps descending the stairs. The door is pulled open abruptly and he comes face to face with Douglas Parr.

Nick stares at him, open-mouthed, trying to make sense of this entirely unexpected development; then Douglas grabs him by the collar of his shirt, drags him in and rams him up against the wall. It happens so quickly that it feels surreal, like a dream; a man’s face in his, contorted with fury, spitting words, propelling him through the house to the kitchen at the back and pushing him down into a chair. He tries to stand up, but Douglas thrusts him down again.

‘Have you touched my daughter?’ Douglas spits. ‘If you have I’ll fucking kill you.’

Nick looks beyond him, to Anna in a white towelling robe, hair loose and make-up smudged.

‘What is he talking about?’

She doesn’t respond, so he repeats the question, shouting it this time.

Galvanized, she launches into an explanation. ‘I told him about Izzy; what you did. That you sexually assaulted her.’

‘What? No. That’s a lie,’ he says, horrified. ‘I didn’t touch her. You’ve twisted what I told you. Christ, what have I ever done to you?’

‘You’re a creep,’ Anna says. ‘Like your father.’

‘I know he treated you badly, but that was nothing to do with me.’

‘You’re just like him though, aren’t you?’ Douglas snarls. ‘You like underage girls.’

Nick scrambles up and barges into Douglas, locking arms with him, but Douglas, although leaner, is muscular, and he pushes Nick into the conservatory, where they crash against the table. It scrapes along the quarry-tiled floor and a jam jar of paintbrushes falls and smashes. Anna screams as Douglas picks up a child’s wooden chair and sends it flying at Nick’s head. Nick raises his arm to deflect it, and Douglas charges him, crushing his fist into Nick’s diaphragm. Winded, Nick drops to the floor and rolls on to his hands and knees, sucking in desperate breaths. Douglas grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him up, then pushes him into the wall. The room is so small, they knock into furniture and pieces of painted driftwood fly from the dresser. One lands between them.

I Love My Dad.

Douglas kicks it out of the way, then picks it up and looks at Nick. ‘I’m applying for custody of my daughter. You can’t be trusted. Grace will leave you when she finds out what kind of man you really are.’

‘She won’t believe you,’ Nick gasps. ‘She loves me. We’re getting married.’

Douglas hesitates a second and then he laughs. ‘You poor bastard.’

Nick hadn’t realized until now how much he hates Douglas Parr, how visceral his loathing is, how much he wishes he would sod off out of Grace’s life. If it wasn’t for Lottie, he would have told him to get lost ages ago. As it is, he has to grit his teeth every time Douglas enters his house. He hates his arrogance, his smugness, his ego; but most of all he hates the effect he has on Grace. She tries to hide it, but he knows that she’s scared of his dark side, wary of annoying him.

This is all going wrong. He needs to talk to Anna on her own, to make her understand about the dreams, about the kiss coming from Izzy. He wants to explain that he does feel guilty; not about what happened in the cubbyhole, but about what happened beside the river; about Izzy screaming at him to go away, to leave her alone; about the way he shook his head, then turned his back on her, shoving his hands into his pockets and sloping off, back through the woods to the house. That was his guilt; not what she thought, or wanted to think, he had done. But he can’t explain all this while that man is here, maybe he can’t say it at all. Maybe he’ll never get to say it, because people will take it the wrong way. He needs to get out, go home, get to Grace before Douglas does.

‘I don’t know why you’d want Grace anyway,’ Douglas says. ‘She’s violent.’ When Nick doesn’t respond, he shrugs. ‘I gather she’s been economical with her past. Well, let me fill you in. Grace stabbed me with a kitchen knife. I rescued that woman from the streets, cleaned her up and sorted her life out and she repaid me by trying to kill me.’

He raises his shirt and Nick blinks when he sees the puckered scar, about two inches wide, halfway between Douglas’s hip and his navel. It’s shocking, but he stands by Grace.

‘She must have had good reason.’

‘Is there ever a good reason to attempt murder? I didn’t press charges, but she was charged anyway. Suspended sentence. So do yourself a favour and get out of my daughter’s life. I don’t want you or your father anywhere near her.’

Despite the pain he’s in, Nick draws himself up to his full height. ‘I’ll do no such thing. I’m marrying Grace, and Lottie will be part of our family. I’ve done nothing wrong. My father acted reprehensibly—’

‘Reprehensibly?’ Douglas sneers. ‘He got Anna pregnant.’

Nick feels his colour drain. He turns to Anna, a question in his eyes.

She doesn’t say a word, but her eyes fill and overflow. Her tears fall silently.

‘Oh, you didn’t know about the baby?’ Douglas says. ‘Your half-sister was adopted. Tim wouldn’t face up to his responsibilities. Fortunately for him, Anna kept his name out of it. She doesn’t need to do that any more though, does she? Tim should pay. If you don’t pack your bags and leave immediately, the newspapers are going to hear all about that, and all about how you molested poor little Izzy Wells and drove her to her death. I’ll destroy your family before I let you near Lottie again.’

Enraged, Nick launches himself at Douglas, hatred convulsing his features. Douglas is caught off guard, surprised that a man like Nick, normally gentle and measured, is capable of such violence. Before he can react, Nick has him down on the floor and is kneeling on his chest, his hands wrapped round his throat. Anna grabs at his shoulders, shouting at him to let go, but Nick ignores her. As he squeezes, he can feel the hard nub of Douglas’s Adam’s apple against the base of his palm, and the hot, panicky beat of the man’s pulse.

Douglas’s eyes bulge, but Nick can’t stop. A red mist has descended, obliterating reason. Then something moves behind him, something dark and swift that descends on the back of his head with a sickening crack.

Someone is sobbing; the sound goes on and on.

Someone is panting, out of breath, like they’ve been running.

‘Grace,’ Nick breathes, before the room shrinks to a tiny dot and is finally extinguished in the blink of an eye.