I stood with the kitchen door open watching the water pouring out of the guttering, chuckling and gurgling as it swirled down the storm drain. I loved this time of year, when September has those few October days: that thick, musty tang of turned soil and sodden leaves as the rain pounded down. I breathed in, filling my lungs with the sharp, cool air. Things smelled of endless possibilities – all dormant and hiding right now, but ready and full of promise.
Emma scuffed into the kitchen wearing one of my old dressing gowns. Her hair was standing on end.
‘Gawd, it’s chilly with that open!’ She banged about a bit, all disgruntled. ‘Sleep well?’ She clattered a cup from the cupboard and poured tea from the pot. I shifted from the step and quietly closed the door and she stopped suddenly. ‘Oh! You’re dressed.’
‘I am.’ I winced, easing myself down onto a chair.
‘Are you going out?’
I shook my head slowly, ‘Nope.’
‘Are you okay?’ She peered closely into my face. ‘You look a bit—’
‘I’m fine. It’s probably those new tablets.’
‘Okay. Right. Well just take it easy today, yeah?’ She sloshed some milk into the cup. ‘Look, I’m going to have to get going or I’ll catch all the traffic in this weather.’ She peered out into the patchy storm-laden sky. ‘Dunno what time Paul’s due back, do you?’ I didn’t answer. ‘I’ll pop round at lunchtime anyway and say hello. Oh, and I don’t want to find out you’ve been doing anything stupid with that foot or I shall get very cross.’ She slurped her tea deliberately noisily. ‘Do you hear me?’
‘I hear you.’
‘Right. I’ll go and sort myself out. And you, girlie, need to stop worrying yourself stupid with – Hang on—’
I smiled up at her encouragingly.
‘—How come your top’s all damp? … And your hair?’ She reached out and touched the ends. ‘And you’ve got your shoes on…’ She frowned. ‘Have you been out somewhere?’
‘Me?’ I looked at her, wide-eyed.
‘That’s what I’m asking.’ She scanned my face.
‘Where on earth would I have been at this time?’
I had asked the taxi driver to wait. His yellow hazards flashed a warning into the darkness as I walked up to Simon’s door. I glanced around, watching the needles of rain slanting through the headlights and listening to the thump of music from one of the flats. I rang the top bell. There was silence for what seemed like an age, and then there was the thud of a door, and a lone figure stood in the gap.
I couldn’t tell if it was male or female; its wraith-like shaved head bobbed cautiously in the shadows.
‘Yeah?’
‘I’m looking for Simon Gould. He lives in the flat upstairs. I need to speak to him.’
‘He’s not here.’ The eyes peered at me blankly.
‘Have you seen him recently? Did he have a little girl with him?’
The head swayed loosely from side to side. ‘Dunno. The Old Bill came and got him about an hour ago. Try the nick.’
Something like ice water ran down my spine. ‘Thanks… thank you,’ I stammered. ‘Thank you very much.’
I don’t remember getting back into the taxi, or the pain, or the movement of the cab. I was locked in my own pounding terror as we pulled up outside Stoke Newington police station. I asked the driver to wait and made my way to the front desk to find Kath, the officer I knew, standing there.
‘Oh! Hello, lovely!’ She glanced up at the clock. ‘Blimey, you’re keen aren’t you? I’m assuming you’re here because… Hey, are you okay? Someone told me you’d been poorly.’
‘You’ve got Gould. What’s happened?’ My words gulped and choked.
‘You’re not, are you?’ She went to move round the desk.
‘Just tell me, Kath.’
She gave me a look. ‘Well, officially, he’s breached his licence conditions,’ she kept her voice low and glanced at the other officers who appeared to be busy doing paperwork. ‘But unofficially, we got a tip-off he’d been seen with a kiddie.’
I swayed and had to hold onto the counter.
‘You sure you’re alright, lovely?’ She made a grab for me.
‘Honestly, I’m fine, I’m fine—’ I held up a hand. ‘I just need to know—’
But a booming male voice interrupted us as two officers appeared from a back office.
‘Physically, the doc says the kid’s unharmed,’ the tall one said. ‘But it just depends now if Gould will spill. He’s a weird one alright. The duty solicitor is on his way, so—’ he stopped and looked at me. ‘Can I help you?’
‘We’re all sorted here I think, thanks,’ Kath butted in. ‘She’s just here to get some information.’
The officer nodded abruptly and they both stalked off. Kath shot me a look. ‘Well thank God we got him, eh Luce?’ She smiled but the weariness and sadness of it all shadowed her face.
‘Can I have just two minutes with him?’
‘You want to talk to him? I don’t think that’s—’
‘Please Kath,’ I pleaded. ‘Please. It’s really important.’
She looked at the door again and then at me. ‘I can’t unlock him, so you’ll have to speak to him through the flap. Remember if the brief turns up and you’re still there I’m seriously dead.’
‘One minute and I’ll be out of your hair. I promise. Just one minute.’
She gave a quick nod and gestured to the corridor housing the cells. ‘Third one down on the left.’
The studded door sat there in its line of identical doors: scuffed and dirty, with its peeling yellow paint. Behind it, I knew, was the horror of a boy I didn’t even recognise as being human.
I reached up and slid the catch. The weight of the metal flap leaned against my fingers and I let it drop. He was sitting there quietly, hands linked loosely in his lap, looking straight at me.
‘I knew you’d come,’ he smiled.
‘Did you,’ I said levelly.
He smiled softly. ‘See Lucy? I proved it didn’t I? Did you hear what that officer said? “Unharmed.” Did you hear that? You and your colleagues will be able to put me down as a rehabilitation success story. But you’re all so stupid I even managed to do it right under your noses. Good though, eh?’
My venom rose instantly.
‘You’re one sick bastard, do you know that, Simon?’
‘Is that a professional assessment?’ he smirked.
My anger began to burn: hot and vicious. ‘I’ll tell you what my assessment is, shall I? I’ll make sure every report from every department will keep you behind bars for the rest of your life – I’ll make it my personal mission.’
Simon only giggled, shaking his head, and then frowned as he licked his lips. ‘Well firstly –’ he held up one finger. ‘We both know that I get everything I want from being in prison. For a start-off I’m practically a celebrity!’ He chuckled. ‘And secondly –’ the second finger rose. ‘They got a tip off, didn’t they? So where do you think that mysterious tip-off came from?’ He looked up at me. ‘I gave myself up – that’s all.’ His hands lifted. ‘Which will all go in my favour in court, as you know.’ He smiled his appalling smile. ‘The thing is, Lucy,’ he sighed, ‘I just wanted to see if I could get you to jump if I pulled enough strings?… And look!…’ His palms sprang apart. ‘Abracadabra… Here you are.’
I became aware of my fingers clutching the metal door flap.
‘Oh, and while you’re here, Lucy. I meant to say to you. Maybe you should enrol on those offender rehabilitation courses that Doctor Webb runs in the prisons. Honestly if you want to learn about manipulation, you should sit in on one. Anything you want to know about coercion… That’s the place to learn it… So if you run into him anytime, do thank him for me, won’t you?’
I felt the metal plate bite into my fingers. There was a sour sick taste on my tongue. I couldn’t listen anymore. I took a step back, slamming the hatch back into its housing, the echo reverberating with his voice as it echoed down the corridor behind me.
‘Didn’t you ever wonder why it was you, Lucy!’ he shouted. ‘Didn’t you ever wonder why I specifically asked for you?’
The voices of the police officers at the front desk grew louder. All I wanted was to get away from the voice – to walk over that threshold, to breathe clean air.
‘You were like Cassie Edwards, Lucy,’ his voice rang out. ‘You were ripe for plucking.’
My lungs fought as I stumbled through the doorway and almost fell into Kath’s waiting arms. ‘My God!’ she panted. ‘Are you okay? What happened?’
‘I just need to get out of here.’ The air dragged painfully into my lungs. ‘Please. There’s a cab waiting. Please.’
A bald-headed man in a suit carrying a briefcase was coming through the door and was met by the tall officer. He was speaking but I was having difficulty catching the words. All I could feel were Kath’s arms supporting me as we slewed awkwardly towards the exit.
‘As Mr Gould’s solicitor, I shall be advising him accordingly, but I don’t believe, on this first charge, you’re able prove any kind of premeditation, or indeed, any intent to do physical harm.’ The words jagged through my head. We had nearly reached the door and Kath grabbed for the handle.
‘You’re having a laugh, aren’t you?’ the officer spluttered angrily. ‘Have you seen her? That child’s completely traumatised!’
My head swung round to look at Kath but she blocked my view. ‘Go home Lucy. Just go home.’
She bundled me though the door towards the taxi that was sat ticking at the kerb.
‘Kath—? She is okay? You would tell me, wouldn’t you?’
But Kath only shook her head. ‘You don’t need all this Lucy, you really don’t.’
She got me into the backseat, fussing a little, pulling the seatbelt for me, and I suddenly grabbed her hand. ‘Kath—’ the power of my grip shocked both of us: her eyes snapped up into mine. ‘How do we stop these people?’
She gave a humourless little laugh. ‘Stop them? We can’t stop them. You heard that solicitor back there, minimising and defending him,’ she tipped her chin towards the police station. ‘Then he’ll get to court and they’ll believe he needs some kind of treatment programme: the psychologists, the psychiatrists, the case workers will all put their five pennyworth in, while people like Gould are laughing their bloody socks off while they line up their next three year old. I don’t have to tell you that.’
‘So what’s the answer, Kath?’ I let go a little and she patted my hand.
‘We’re not allowed to put him down, are we?’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘So the next best thing is to put ourselves as far away from those kinds of people as we possibly can.’ She smiled. ‘Keep the filth of them out of our lives: mentally and physically.’
It was raining much harder when I got home. I looked up at the closed curtains as I slid my key quietly into the lock. I knew Emma would be getting up for work soon. Tiptoeing into the living room, I looked at the time: 06:13. Pulling a throw from the sofa, and wrapping it round my shoulders, I switched on the TV.
Cassie Edwards’s father stared back at me; it was breaking news on every station. I pressed the mute button, I just couldn’t listen to anymore. The footage, again, was of the candles and the teddy bears outside the house. Then Cassie’s smiling face: cheeky-eyed and grinning with no clue as to the horror that was about to befall her. I stared at the screen for a moment, my thoughts churning and distilling as I got up and crept up the stairs. The briefcase lay where I had left it. Gathering all the photographs together, I went back downstairs and tipped them out onto the carpet. Kneeling to the task, I began to lay out the photographs one by one, sorting and grouping them so that they began to tell a story… Paul, his babies, Caitlin… Would I ever know the truth?
My phone bleeped to say there was a message and I glanced at it. It was Viv. I didn’t even want to listen; I didn’t care what she had to say. The TV was still flickering in the background; a newsreader’s face flashed up like a ventriloquist’s dummy. He was mouthing things that made no sense. Simon Gould. Cassie Edwards… The truth, the lies… Who knew? Maybe it was all just a good story, just like Paul’s, to lure the punters in. I concentrated hard on the image, watching the newsreader’s muted lips moving, trying to read what he was saying, as a talisman to keep the heartbreak of my thoughts at bay.
I knew I wasn’t going to tell anyone hat I was leaving. I was alone in the house. My case lay unzipped and still only half-full on the bed as I checked the time. I’d have about three hours before Emma reappeared.
I knew there’d be tons of reasoning, and explanations offered, all designed to talk me round, to tell me I’d got it all wrong and that Paul was really a great guy.
I threw a T-shirt angrily into the case. There was more trauma, less certainty, less clarity every which way I turned. There was no one to rely on.
Screwing up some underwear I rammed it down the sides. If I could, I’d have gone back to Lou and holed up there for a while, but I knew that would be the first place that he would look. Then I thought about Broadstairs… Or Whitstable… Somewhere with no connections… Somewhere along that coast…
I listened to the rain beating incessantly across the roof tiles. I imagined this weather and the rolling sea, the stoney beach, and being alone and extremely happy.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’
I wheeled round. Paul’s bulk stepped through the doorway.
My legs nearly gave way at the sight of him.
He barged past, filling the room, the shoulders of his jacket darkened with rain.
‘What the hell is going on?’
I was aware of his breath coming out hard and laboured as though he’d been running.
He glared at me, his eyes red and bloodshot.
‘Go on, then, tell me!’ He swung his arm angrily. ‘Go on. You’ve normally got so much to say.’
‘I’m going away for a while. I need to think—’ I went to move towards the door, but his arm shot out and grabbed me.
‘Oh no you don’t!’ He blocked my way, one hand on the doorframe. ‘You think you’re going to treat me like some kind of mug, do you?’
I winced.
‘What?’ He put his face very close to mine. I got the sudden sour blast of booze.
I felt a fleck of spittle hit me on the corner of my mouth. I involuntarily licked my lips and was instantly repulsed.
‘Where is he?’
The question stunned me. ‘Where’s who?’
He stood there panting like an animal unsure of its territory. His hair was plastered with damp; the sound of his breath whistled angrily, but there was something panicked there behind his eyes.
‘This bloke who you’re going off with.’ His voice was whispered and hoarse. ‘Where is he?’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Or do I have to drag it out of you?’
‘Bloke? Jesus, Paul, there is no bloke! Is that all you can think of, after all that’s happened? Get out of my way.’ Grabbing up my case and fumbling with the catch, I pushed past him, and to my amazement, he let me.
‘So you’re just leaving me, then.’ His voice rang out behind me as I ran down the stairs. It wasn’t a question. I was desperate to get into the living room where the briefcase was sitting waiting for me. He lumbered into the room after me, dragging his weight in heavy strides, arms flailing, before he collapsed on the sofa. His eyes were glassy. He hadn’t seen the briefcase.
‘I’m leaving because you’re a liar.’ I stood between it and him, hearing the calm surety of my voice, its strength, its dignity. ‘You’ve lied to me. Probably from the first day I met you. The man I fell in love with doesn’t exist. It has all been a fabrication. All this,’ – my hand spanned the room – ‘us, our relationship, is built on lies. Dirty filthy lies.’ I felt my mouth trembling, but I was not going to stop now. ‘Go on then, Paul. Tell me. Tell me about the children.’
I waited for his face to register the shock, the surprise, but it didn’t come. He sat there, blinking up at me, his breathing audible, and then leaned forward suddenly, dropping his head, elbows on knees, his hands hanging like gloves in front of him. He hunched heavily, stupid with effort.
‘Did you think you could hide it forever?’ I glanced at the case.
‘And how did you find out?’ he mumbled dully.
‘These?’ I turned and crouched, flipping the catch and pulling one out. The baby sat laughing up in the bath, the suds sparkling on her nose.
I watched him flinch. He closed his eyes and looked away. ‘Ah…’ he rocked a little. ‘So you’ve seen the ones of Caitlin too.’
A knife drove its way straight to my heart. ‘What, this one?’ I threw the one of Caitlin wearing the scarf at his feet. ‘Yes, I’ve seen it all. The children, the two of them, and you and her. You kept the scarf and then let me wear it – My God—’ I looked away.
His head bounced up. ‘Scarf?’
‘Oh don’t! This…’ I toed it angrily. ‘This… Christ. The perfect family.’ I heard the hurt and the pain and the disgust.
His head bobbed. ‘Yes, the children, the family; you’re exactly right to make the distinction. Not my children or my family.’
I stared at the crown of his head. ‘What are you saying?’
He sighed, the breath catching in his throat. ‘The kids. They weren’t mine.’
He waved a hand wearily. ‘Oh yeah, they were passed off as mine all the time I was providing a house and a car and an income, but once the father, the real father, finally decided he wanted her, then she told me the truth in the four words that no one wants to hear. They are not yours.’
I tried and failed and tried again to process what he was saying.
‘The problem with our relationship was…’ his fists clenched and released, squeezing the words out. ‘The whole crux of it was… I loved her more than she loved me. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.’ His voice broke and he dropped his head further. ‘I couldn’t believe that someone like her had looked twice at someone like me.’
The wound in my heart tore wide in the face of this unguarded, drunken, simple truth, and I bled, internally, profusely. I stood looking down at him with a hard hurt of pain in the back of my throat. I was terribly tired all of a sudden, as though I could’ve dropped to the floor right there at his feet, curled up and shut my eyes and just stopped the world from ever touching me again.
‘Jesus. Jesus.’ His voice trembled. ‘You’re right, I couldn’t stand the humiliation, the indignity of explaining all that, so you’re absolutely right – I lied.’ He nodded slowly. ‘And now I’m going to pay the price for that, because you’re going to leave me too. Fuck…’ He almost laughed. ‘The irony of it. The things you’ve been accusing me of… Seeing Caitlin?’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘If you had any idea. The truth is, I wouldn’t touch her if she was the last woman on earth. I mean, can you imagine?’ He lifted his head. His eyes were full of pain. ‘After what she did? What kind of mug would I be, eh?’ He laughed again. ‘You’ve got it though, you’ve sussed me. I am the kind of mug that would lose you – the one woman who has healed that massive hole in my heart. The one woman I would actually consider having my own family with… But what do I do?… I balls it up because I’m a coward… Brilliant. Perfect.’ His eyes bored into mine for a second and then his head sagged. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘Really sorry, about everything. The only good thing is…’ he shook his head sadly. ‘It really can’t get any worse. For either of us.’ He reached out and touched my hand. I didn’t pull away.
I couldn’t find the words for the questions I needed to ask.
‘You know, as soon as I got to the train station yesterday I thought about you, here, unwell, and I thought what am I doing? Seriously? I’ve got my priorities wrong, I’m there, on the piss with the blokes, doing what men do when they go on conferences, and all the time I just kept thinking of you…’ His voice cracked. ‘And now it’s all too late—’
‘I’ll make some tea.’ It seemed such a ridiculous thing to say.
His leather jacket creaked obtrusively as he tried to take it off. His face, crumpled with concentration, frowned and then brightened. ‘Let me. You’re not well… You shouldn’t be even on that foot—’
I didn’t answer. I watched as he struggled to remove the jacket, his clumsy fingers attempting the zip but not managing as they closed precisely and slowly around empty air. The tea could wait. I went and stood by him patiently, watching the crown of his head tip and judder, his hair lank with wet and grease, flopping forward in the struggle. He pushed it back with unsteady fingers.
‘I was so pleased to be coming home – And then when I saw the back door was open and I couldn’t see you, I thought… I thought you’d gone… Poof…’ his hands bounced and exploded apart.
I pulled his jacket from his shoulders and started on his shoes. He let me push him backwards on to the sofa, and I pulled the rug up over his shoulders. He turned over onto his side. ‘Nice,’ he said. ‘Nice. Warm.’ He looked up at me for the first time. His grey eyes looked huge in his face. ‘Thanks for doing this. I don’t expect anything from you. I know you’re just being a decent person. So, just… thanks.’ His eyes batted lazily for a second and then opened and looked at me.
‘By the way. There is no scarf.’ He slurred a little. ‘Check my bag, check ev’where.’ His hand waved. ‘Why would I do that? There is. No. Scarf.’
A whole wash of hurt and affection and concern and some other emotion I couldn’t name came over me. I sat next to him on the sofa, tea forgotten, watching the drifting paralysis of alcohol take him, the hypnotic flakes stroking his face, drawing him down. I was helpless to control any of this; I had no part to play. The drink in him flexed and twitched, running through his veins, keeping him falling. His body relaxed into a smooth gentleness that made me want to kiss him. Another tremor passed quickly through his shoulders and he sunk down into another level.
‘Paul?’ I waited. ‘Are you awake?’
But there was only the soft slur of his breathing. I got up very gently, bending to pick up his jacket, aware of the weight of something in the pocket banging against my shin. Putting my hand inside, my fingers closed around the hard rectangle of his phone. I scanned his face for a moment and then slipped quietly into the hallway. I had almost got to the kitchen door when the vibration nearly made me drop the thing. The screen flashed white.
Then it locked.
My heart stopped. The words imprinted themselves into my eyes as I slid the phone back into his pocket.
There he was, his mouth slightly open, the cheeks sagging with the booze and I saw him for the flawed, selfish, plausible liar he was.
I’d believed what I’d wanted to believe; what it had suited me to believe. The truth had been in front of me the whole time. My gut had told me I was right all along and I’d continually questioned it. But there were no questions now. I knew.
I was suddenly very calm. He knew. I knew. I would wait for Paul to wake up. I’d make tea for us both, sit down and I would tell him, carefully and perfectly calmly, that I needed to go away for a while. There would be no histrionics, no screaming, no blame or accusations. I would explain and he would have to let me go.
I went up and packed the rest of my things before going to stand in the shower, eyes closed against the heat, feeling the gush of the water. Steam billowed in great clouds and condensed across the ceiling. It felt so good.
I’d rung Emma and given her a sanitized version of events, telling her that Paul had come back a bit the worse for wear. ‘Still hung-over from the night before then?’ she tutted, chuckling. I hadn’t said anything about the photographs or the text messages, or his furious drunken accusations. I didn’t mention leaving – Once I was settled in a new place, I’d tell her what had really happened, the whole story. Part of me wondered if she’d believe me.
I heard the click of the door handle and felt a vague surprise. Through the heavy steam I saw Paul’s outline dipping and lumbering on the other side of the glass. I wiped a hand across the shower screen but it immediately fogged back up.
‘What are you doing?’ He swayed a little.
‘Nothing. I’ll talk to you in a minute.’
‘Why are you showering?’ He moved on the other side of the glass, I saw him bend unsteadily and turn.
I didn’t answer, twisting round on one leg to turn off the tap.
‘Why… Are you… Showering?’ He laboured over the words.
I reached for the wall. ‘For God’s sake, Paul! Could you just—’
The door to the shower shunted open and I half spun in alarm as he stepped in naked beside me. He pulled the door shut. There was no way past him.
‘What the hell are you doing?’
He looked at me. There was something dead behind his eyes.
‘I want the truth.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘There’s massage oil downstairs, all kinds of stuff. You’d forgotten to hide it.’
‘Hide? Hide what?’
‘You know exactly what I’m talking about. I know, you see.’ He leaned in, tapping his nose. ‘When people are lying. I can tell. Soon as I walked into the house, I could smell it on you. There was something odd going on, something that you were hiding.’ Lurching slightly, he grabbed at my face. ‘I knew you were trying cover something up.’ He tipped my chin back and stared into my eyes. ‘I could see it.’ I tried to snatch away. ‘See?’
I tried to push his hands off. ‘I don’t know what the hell you’re on about! The oil is Emma’s, we were—’
He gave a short bark of laughter. ‘Emma? For fuck’s sake! She’s probably in on the whole fucking thing! You expect me to fall for that one?’ His mouth twisted horribly, his fingers dug hard into my cheeks.
‘Get off me!’ I tried to sound forceful, but the fear ramped up wildly as I attempted to fight him off. He had me caught.
‘And now you’re showering. Showering off the stink of him, are you?’ his teeth bared in a weird grimace.
‘For Christ’s – Paul! Stop! I—’ But my throat wouldn’t let the words out. I struggled in terror as his hands raked all over me. He breathed me in, burying his face in my neck, snuffling wetly as his fingers looped around my wrist.
‘Tell me what you’re hiding Lucy. Go on, tell me.’
I was pressed up against the back wall of the shower, his knee forcing its way between my thighs.
‘Go on,’ he whispered.
I made a little strangled cry, elbowing and floundering madly at his face and he released me suddenly, staring wide-eyed into my face as though he’d just woken.
‘What the—?’
I found I couldn’t get my breath in the oppressive heat, the gagging humidity, the water blinding me as it streamed down my face. Hands flailing, I tumbled shaking out onto the floor.
‘Jesus, Lucy! What is it?’ He grappled with the shower control as I crawled around the floor shivering, casting frantically about for the towel.
‘Lucy, please! For God’s sake! What’s the matter?’ He crouched, reaching for me, his face full of concern.
‘You know what the matter is!’ I instinctively shied away from his touch. ‘Get off me! Get off!’ I shrieked.
‘What? What?’ He straightened, stepping back in alarm, his hands raised in surrender. ‘Talk to me! What’s going on?’ He appeared instantly sober. ‘I thought—’
I pulled a bath sheet from the cupboard and wrapped it tightly around me. ‘I’m warning you,’ I said slowly. ‘Don’t you dare come anywhere near me.’
His hands waved in mid-air. ‘I promise I won’t, I promise… Look, I’m keeping right over here… but could I please get a towel?’ He grinned lamely and slowly reached for a towel from the rack, looping it around his waist. ‘There… Look. See?… It’s just me. Same old me.’
I backed out of the bathroom. ‘Stay in there,’ I ordered. ‘Don’t you dare move.’
‘I’m not moving, I’m not moving!’ He stood there, wide-eyed.
Grabbing clothes from anywhere, I desperately pulled them on, itching to feel covered, desperate to feel safe. Paul stood on the landing watching me, a strange enquiring look on his face.
‘Lucy, what just happened? Are you okay? One minute we were—’ his head swung slowly in amazement.
I couldn’t answer him. Pulling on my shoes, I winced as the wound in my foot stabbed and throbbed. ‘I don’t know what is going on with you, but I want… I want you to keep the fuck away. I want you gone… Gone! D’you hear me? Out of my life, you… you understand me? Yeah?’ The words stuttered from between my lips. My heart was juddering, my legs were shaking. It was anger and aggression and terror, all rolled into one. My things were downstairs; I had this acute over-riding panic he was going to try and stop me.
But he only stood, looking in amazement. ‘You mean you’re really leaving? You’re not serious? Luce? I thought… I thought after we spoke, you… that is, we were—’ He went to step forward but I turned and ran, hobbling as quickly as I could down the stairs. Grabbing my bags, I stumbled out of the front door as great gulping sobs racked my whole body. I was shaking uncontrollably, glancing round, terrified that he could be right behind me as the rain pelted and soaked into my clothes.
I floundered, fishing for my car keys and fell into the driver’s seat. The pain seared, arcing through my foot as I revved the engine into life and accelerated hard. The wheels slipped and spun, churning up the wet gravel. I glanced back once. He was standing calmly in the doorway, framed like a mannequin, his hands hanging at his sides. My whole body was rigid with fear, screaming to get out of there as I dragged the wheel round and backed off the drive.
‘Lucy!’ His voice called out. I snapped a look round. He had raised one hand as if waving a guest goodbye. He was standing absolutely still: a mute staring statue, just letting me go.
I drove, way too fast, my foot throbbing – the pain helping me to focus as the streets and houses, trees and hedges ribboned out on either side, the distance furrowing backwards farther and farther, taking me away.
I didn’t know where I was heading. Which way was Kent? I’d looked on my phone but now I couldn’t remember. None of the road signs were making any sense, I couldn’t get my bearings… Southgate? No… No. This must be wrong. Where was I going? What should I do? I have nowhere sorted, nothing. Jesus, Jesus… Reaching into my bag to find my phone, I dialled the only person I could think of to call and started jabbering even as she answered.
‘Lucy? Is that you?…’ I could hear the alarm. ‘Lucy? … Lucy? Can you hear me? Christ! What’s happened? What’s the matter?’
I was making sounds, but not words, the sobs drowning everything out.
‘Take a breath… Breathe, Lucy, for God’s sake… What the hell’s happened?’
‘Paul… It’s… It’s Paul…’
‘Oh my God! Is he okay?’
‘He… He’s—’
‘Oh my God! Has there been an accident? Is he alright?’
I was picking up speed and realised I’d turned left and was heading onto the North Circular when suddenly the sky opened up with a flash of white.
‘No, not him, me… I’m not okay. I’m in the car… He… Please, Em, I have to talk to someone. It’s something awful… He’s… I’ve…’
‘What do you mean? What’s happened? What is it?’
Cars drummed past, tyres whining on the planes of water. The world looked ashy green, boiling with mist and rain. The water illuminated for a second, toiling against the wipers.
‘Lucy?’
‘I just wanted him to stop…’
There was a junction. I knew there were lights. I saw them without really seeing. The change from one colour to another didn’t register.
‘Lucy?’
There was a terrible noise, a blaring high-pitched wail, as the road lights throbbed orange and red, streaming out on either side. I watched as a tunnel of brilliant light bore down suddenly in front and the car rocked and slipped. There was a terrifying screaming sound. Somewhere was the sound of Emma’s voice. I think I said her name as a force took over the wheel. The car slewed hard into a kaleidoscope of whirling colours: traffic lights, tail-lights, searing headlights – a sickening sound of screeching metal on concrete convulsed through the car and then suddenly a wall of brick reared up. I was twisting and turning, the belt tearing against my shoulder and then I was grabbed by my hair – out into a cold blank sky. In those seconds there was a moment, an indescribable moment when I was overcome with the numbly falling assumption that I was going to die, and this was how, and this was when – and then out of the whiteness came a blackness.
And then there was nothing.
I opened my eyes into a bright tableau of blue lights flashing and a road scarred and scattered with things not meant to be there. Kind hands and a blur of faces lifted me from one world into the next, a place of stretchers and strip lights and screens and blankets that smelled strange.
The world outside was still thundering with rain and police cars: radios, tinny voices and sharp white headlamps, illuminating what was out there in that other place.
‘Did I die?’
‘Look at me,’ someone said. ‘Concentrate on me.’
I turned my face to the voice and the lights became brighter, shriller, and there was a stink of something caustic that burned my throat and stung my eyes into crying so that I couldn’t see a thing.
‘You’re fine, you’re fine,’ the voice said from far away. ‘It’ll be okay. Don’t cry. The ambulance is here.’ I was aware of the outline of the person looking up and away from me, talking to someone over their shoulder. There was a police radio, flashes of acid yellow.
‘Is there any ID?’ someone said. Then: ‘… Lucy? You’re alright, love. Just bear with us… Do you want to go with her?’
I gazed up into the face hanging over me.
‘No.’ I stared up in horror.
‘Shush now. It’s okay.’
‘No, you don’t understand.’ I struggled to get up and the world fizzed around me.
‘Shush. Lie still,’ the mouth said. And then the world went dark.
What woke me was the lack of noise.
I was in a room – too bright. There was a terrible pain in the back of my head and I couldn’t feel my right hand. I shifted my head. Emma was smiling across at me. I blinked painfully.
‘Hello, you.’ She wrinkled her nose and I saw her eyes were full of tears.
I stared at her face. All kinds of images floated in front of me, but I didn’t know if any of them were real.
‘How long have I—?’ I lifted my hand.
‘God!’ she sniffed. ‘You’ve been in and out of consciousness for ages. Christ, Lucy, we’ve been so scared…’ Her eyes glistened and a single tear tracked down her face.
‘I can’t remember…’ And then it came to me. Paul. The shower.
‘You called me,’ she scrubbed the tear away. ‘You told me you weren’t feeling well, do you remember that?’
‘No,’ I shifted and the tubes and wires shifted with me. My head hurt like hell. ‘Emma, it was Paul.’
She looked at me patiently. ‘You were in the car by yourself, Luce. Paul wasn’t with you.’
‘No, I don’t mean… I mean Paul tried to—’ I stopped to find the words.
‘I thought he was going to rape me.’ I knew by her look the words sounded over-dramatic and odd. I lifted my hand, and realised it was bandaged so thickly I could barely move it. ‘I thought he was going to rape me, Emma…’ My voice came out in a whispered husk. ‘He threatened me, he came back drunk, accused me—’
‘Rape? No. No… Shhhh… Lie back, sweetie. It’s okay, it’s okay. They’ve given you all kinds of stuff.’
‘You have to believe—’
‘You told me you’d done something and you needed to talk to me. I’m here now Luce. You can tell me anything, you know that.’
‘Not me. Paul, Emma.’ I struggled to pull myself up. ‘He came home, raging drunk, he—’
Emma frowned a little. ‘But we spoke, Luce, do you remember what you said? You said he’d come home a bit worse for wear. Remember that?’
‘I wasn’t telling the truth, Emma,’ I rasped. ‘That’s not what happened.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘No, I couldn’t tell you; he was there. I was going to leave him. I wanted to tell you, but—’
‘You need to sleep,’ she said gently. ‘I’ve been speaking to Paul. You—’ She broke off and I saw the pity in her face. Pity.
‘Paul. You’ve talked to Paul.’ I lay back on the pillow and closed my eyes, feeling the tears leak from under the lids. A nurse came in, bustling round. She touched my arm and the sticky tape pulled painfully.
‘I think she’s very tired.’ I heard her say. ‘Maybe you should come back another time?’
I opened my eyes. Emma was pushing the chair back. ‘Of course. You’re absolutely right. I’ll be back when you’re feeling brighter, Luce. Take care.’ She bent to pick up her things and put her face close to mine. ‘I’ll ring him and tell him you’re awake.’ She kissed my forehead.
‘She just needs to sleep,’ said the nurse, turning down the light. She stepped forward to guide Emma awkwardly out of the door.
‘How long have I—?’
My head swam. Paul. Simon. Emma. Caitlin. Simon. Paul. Caitlin. Emma.
Their faces whirled.
The nurse chuckled. ‘Quite a while. A little brain bleed does that to you. Things get muddled. You’ll be a bit confused for a few days, but try not to worry. I’ll leave you alone and you can get some sleep.’
I heard the shunt of the door closing and I lay back on the pillows, my body flinching with memories I couldn’t make sense of. I was out of control; time was out of control: Paul. Emma. Caitlin. Simon. Images came to me, weird snapshots laced with the whine of tyres travelling too fast, the gusts of rain on the windshield between odd windscreen wipers swiping back and forth, each swipe revealing the faces of two laughing children. I could hear them: their squealing and shrieking.
‘Look at me,’ said a voice. ‘Concentrate on me.’ I saw again the flash of police lights and the wail of an ambulance siren, and my eyes fell open with a shock. ‘Lie still.’ It was her. I saw her staring down at me. My eyes widened. She’d been there. Caitlin. The face was Caitlin’s.