Ipswich
10th August: The night of the murder
Caroline
The moment she drops it, I reach down for it, intending to grab it and put it away, make her leave and get back to the baby, but she mistakes my actions for a threat and lunges down too, obviously fearful that I’m going to hurt her.
For a moment, our hands collide, skin against skin, and I feel a flash of anger as her hair whips across my face, her blue eyes flashing just like her father’s. Her legs kick out into mine and my legs buckle underneath me, pulling me over so that my body slams against hers, pinning her beneath me. The knife is in my hand and I twist my torso upwards, trying to get away from her, and at that second there is a cry, the cry of baby Eve, piercing and loud through the small flat.
The shock on Emma’s face is obvious and immediate. The crying continues, unmistakeably a baby, and Emma’s face changes, screws up as though pain is ricocheting through her.
‘Is that your baby – is that my father’s child?’
‘No—’
I begin to say, but it’s too late, my hand around the knife has gone slack as I listened to Eve and Emma grabs it from me, and pushes it into my stomach with a horrible howl of rage.