I’m waiting for the fallout of Jeremy’s arrest but it’s taking forever. My phone rings and it’s Hunt.
‘We had to let him go. We’ve had him for twenty-four hours, and the CPS haven’t made up their minds. We had no choice.’
‘Where is he?’ My hand tightens around my mobile phone and I run to the back door and lock it, then I rush through to the garage and close that too, then I head to the front.
But I’m too late.
‘He’s here,’ I say.
‘Doc, I’m sending a car over just in case.’
‘Bit late for that.’
I hang up.
The gravel on the front drive crunches as Jeremy pulls in slowly. He’s out of the car and at the door before I can think what to do. His face is thunderous and I know he’s sussed out my collusion, because of what Hunt had from my Mac. He comes in through the door and slams it shut.
Ewan is upstairs, Lydia and James are out.
Jeremy stops when he sees me, and he looks at me with deadly loathing. He’s more awake than I’ve seen him in months.
‘Darling,’ he says, and I feel caught in a spider’s web. His words drip with acid.
‘Ewan?’ he shouts.
My son doesn’t answer so Jeremy takes the stairs and I follow him. He bursts into Ewan’s room and goes in. I run to keep up.
‘Mum?’
Ewan’s voice is small and terrified.
‘I’m here. Jeremy, leave Ewan out of this.’
Ewan looks between us. He shrinks back on his bed.
‘Jeremy, leave him out of this. Come downstairs and we’ll discuss it like adults.’
‘Shut up, you bitch.’
‘Jeremy, the police are on their way. You need to think carefully. Don’t be stupid. It’s over, they know everything.’
‘Dad,’ Ewan says meekly.
‘She called me stupid,’ he says to Ewan, pointing at me.
‘No, she didn’t, Dad.’
Jeremy launches his body at Ewan’s chest of drawers and swoops everything off it in one go. He roars, and the sound coming out of his frail body is primal.
‘Mummy’s been to the police, Ewan. I’m a murderer, and I’m going to kill Mummy too, and it will be your fault forever.’
I close my eyes. There is no way out without my son. Ewan glances at me and I try to give him the reassurance he needs, just in a look.
Ewan starts to cry.
‘Cry baby, just like you did when Brandon Stand got the better of you. You’re no son of mine.’
‘Jeremy,’ I implore him to stop. These are words that kids never forget, but he doesn’t care.
I take a step towards Ewan, and Jeremy warns me to stop.
‘Fuck you, Jeremy,’ I say, and I go to comfort my son. The blow takes me by surprise, and I see Ewan’s expression of horror too late. In the distance, beyond the ringing between my ears, I fancy I can hear police sirens.
‘Stay back, whore,’ he says. As he grabs me, and I fall off the bed, my head bangs on the floor.
‘I’m not a whore, Jeremy,’ I tell him. I don’t know where my strength comes from but I have to defend myself in front of Ewan. ‘You know that.’
He faces the window and I look up to Ewan and mouth ‘RUN! RUN!’ He pauses for half a second then springs out of bed and bolts for the door. Jeremy isn’t quick enough to catch him. Drunks are slow. We’re alone. Jeremy is unsteady on his feet, and I’m amazed he was able to drive, but that will only add to the prosecution’s case. I will testify that it’s normal for him to drink and drive, if I survive the day. My head is bleeding but he’s going to have to come up with something more imaginative to get rid of me than purely physical power, of which his body is depleted.
‘Jeremy, think,’ I say. I’ll do anything to buy time.
He lunges at me, and in trying to wriggle away, my foot catches on the corner of Ewan’s gaming chair. I feel him on me and I fight with him as hard as I can. He’s a millisecond behind my reactions and we struggle to exhaustion, but he’s banging my head up and down on the floor. The carpet doesn’t save me. I can feel blackness spreading over my vision. His tenacity surprises me. My brain rattles in my skull and I feel my fingernails ripping with the force of my desperation to get him off me.
He straddles me and puts his hands around my throat and begins to squeeze. The police sirens are getting louder. It’s not my imagination. His eyes are glossed over with hate and booze. His breath is stale and sour. I don’t want this to be my last vision on earth. I claw at his hands. His face is bursting with hatred and I feel as though I deserve it, but I can take it. It’s worth it.
‘Ewan isn’t your son,’ I manage to whisper.
He releases his grip and then slaps my face.
‘Ewan isn’t your son,’ I repeat. ‘He’s Tony’s.’
His body freezes. I’ve articulated it and it can never be undone. Of course he suspected before. But now it’s undeniable.
The pain inside my body dissipates as I read the final tragedy unfold across his face. It’s supremely satisfying. The shock is total. I cough and fight for breath, but his dead weight still pins me down. Metallic liquid fills my mouth. I hear the police enter the house.
His hands tighten around my throat once again. Spittle drips from his mouth. He’s an animal, at the moment of the kill.
This is it.
I smile, and prepare for the inevitable. I will surely pass out, but I may be revived if he can be dragged off me within the next minute. Then he slumps on me and I know the police are in the room.
But they’re not.
Ewan stands in front of me, holding a spade. Jeremy doesn’t move. He’s a dead weight on top of me and Ewan helps me get him off. Bodies enter the room and take Ewan outside, gently taking the spade away from him. A medic bends over me.
Everything goes black.