The house was unusually dark and cool inside, as if it what had happened in it had somehow drained it of warmth and love. She didn’t bother calling out his name; she knew the sick bastard was in there somewhere. Feeling oddly calm, her anger having transformed into a strange sense of power, Claire walked slowly through the hallway and into the kitchen. His keys were lying on the counter, as if he’d just come home from work, expecting his evening meal to be ready, plus all the other things he’d taken for granted over the years. None of it had ever bothered her before – she’d always enjoyed being a wife, a mother, his best friend. So she’d believed. She ran a glass of water, drinking it in a few swift gulps, wiping her mouth before going to the living room doorway.
Callum was sitting on the sofa, his head bent forward in his hands, staring at the floor.
Claire thumped her fist on the door, slamming it back against the wall. He didn’t look up immediately, but when he did, he couldn’t meet her eyes.
‘You fucking disgusting piece of shit,’ she spat out, her hand smarting. She didn’t care. She thumped the door again, almost enjoying the feeling. ‘How fucking dare you even set foot in this house after what you did. You shouldn’t be near any of us.’
‘Claire—’
‘Don’t give me your bullshit. I don’t want to hear it.’ She marched up close to him, shoving him on the shoulder. He flinched. ‘What were you thinking?’ She kicked his foot, but he just sat there. ‘I’ve already told the police you made me lie to cover your slimy arse. You make me sick!’
‘None of this is what you think,’ he said, making to stand up. Claire shoved him again, catching him off balance so he fell back into the chair again.
‘What, raping a fifteen-year-old isn’t what it sounds like?’ She let out a disgusted noise. ‘I can’t even listen to your pathetic excuses.’ Claire spat at him, kicking his leg hard. He stood up, looming over her.
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about, Claire. You’re stressed and not thinking straight. We’ll sort this out and everything will be normal again. Me, you, the kids – a fresh start.’ He went to take her by the shoulders, perhaps even bring her in for a hug, but she shoved him again, her palms thumping flat against his chest.
‘Don’t fucking touch me, you pervert! I want you out of my life. And don’t even think of going near our children ever again, you sick, sick monster.’ Claire swung round, shaking, firing on pure adrenalin, and ran upstairs to their bedroom. She yanked open the wardrobe doors, grabbing armfuls of Callum’s clothes – clothes she had once pressed and neatly put away. She opened the window and flung them out, hurling bundles of underwear, suits, sweaters, shoes – everything he owned – onto the front lawn.
‘Claire, stop. You’re not seeing sense right now. We need to pull together as a team—’
‘Get out! Now!’ she screamed. He was in the doorway – his face pale, his shoulders hunched.
‘Claire…’ he said, holding out his hands.
‘Don’t Claire me,’ she replied, returning from the bathroom with an armful of his toiletries. They all went out of the window too. ‘Rain is a child. What else have you done over the years that I don’t know about?’ She shook her head, blowing out a sigh through clenched teeth. Then she pulled two suitcases from the top of the wardrobe and shoved them at Callum. ‘Get the fuck out of this house and don’t come back. Ever!’ The tears were flowing hot and fast now. ‘I’ll have the rest of your stuff sent on. To hell!’ she screamed, lashing out at him again.
Fending off her blows, Callum finally retreated, taking the suitcases with him. When she heard the front door bang shut, the Range Rover roar off, Claire hurled herself onto the bed and sobbed like she’d never done before. Her life had been destroyed in the worst way imaginable, yet a part of it was also about to be rebuilt. She didn’t know what to think or do, so she pressed her face into the pillow instead, letting the tears flow.
* * *
‘Should I phone Mum now?’ Claire said to Nick for about the tenth time. She’d tried to freshen up before coming back to the farmhouse, but even an hour later, her eyes were still red and sore. ‘And should I call the police again about Dad?’
‘Drink?’ he said, pouring two glasses of wine. ‘And no. You shouldn’t call anyone. It’s too soon.’ It was good to see a flicker of hope in Claire’s eyes, he thought, even though he could see she’d been sobbing. ‘Just take a moment to relax, Claire. You’re in a mess.’
They’d not long had a call from a detective about Lenni, but hadn’t learnt much more. ‘Your sister has been taken to a place of safety,’ he’d told her. ‘A secure medical facility. She’ll be able to have more visitors tomorrow, but for now it’s important we collect evidence before it becomes degraded.’
Claire had understood, though she wanted nothing more than to bundle Lenni up, bring her home and never let her out of her sight again. But she was grateful that Shona had at least been allowed to see her. ‘Thank you,’ she’d said flatly before hanging up. One more day without her. But it would be the longest of them all.
She took the wine gratefully. ‘Why, Nick, why, after all these years, did she turn up out of the blue? Did someone release her, did she escape?’ Her mind was leaping ahead, filling up with questions that didn’t yet have answers. ‘She was virtually mute when she was here and seemed terrified, so we didn’t press her.’ She took a mouthful of wine. ‘What if she’d wanted to disappear?’ She covered her face at the possibility, that life here at the farm had become too intolerable.
She stared at the chair where Lenni had sat. It had swallowed her up.
‘If someone took her, I swear I’ll kill the fucker who did it.’ Her voice was wavering. ‘I’m so angry. Angrier than I’ve ever been… about everything that’s happened.’ Shaking, she put down her wine and tugged hard at her wedding ring, pulling it off and tossing it across the table so it skidded onto the floor.
‘I’m here for you, Claire. We’ll get through this,’ Nick said, taking her hand.
She looked at him, about to say something, but she heard a noise outside. She stood, glancing out of the window. ‘Oh, thank God. Jason’s back,’ she said, watching as the taxi pulled away. She’d phoned him a hundred times, but his battery must have run out. ‘And Maggie and Rain are with him too.’ She ran to the back door, grabbing onto her brother as he came inside, pulling Maggie and Rain close too. She tried to tell them everything coherently, but it all blurted out in garbled sobs.
For a while, Jason didn’t speak. He dropped into his father’s chair and sat, stunned, unable to comprehend the end of what had already been the most momentous day of his life. He’d left Greta in hospital sleeping with their babies – each was adorable and healthy, and Greta was glowing, ready to take on motherhood. But this… this was not what he’d expected. It was joy enough to be a father, to have Rain found safe and well, but to learn that Lenni – were they sure it was her, he’d asked a thousand times – had somehow come home, alive, was more than he could take in.