A clamp tightened around my chest as I silently crept across the landing, being careful to avoid the loose bit of carpet at the top of the stairs Dad still hadn’t fixed. One step. Two. The third creaked, despite my carrying my shoes in my hand. I froze, waiting for the hallway to flood with light. For my parents to shout: ‘Where do you think you are going?’, but there was nothing. Somehow, the silence seemed the loudest thing of all. I pressed forward, descending the rest of the staircase as quickly as I could, holding my breath as though they might be able to hear me exhale, but I was unable to quieten the thudding of my heart which sounded terrifyingly loud. The hallway was shrouded in darkness. I caught my hip on the handle of the cupboard under the stairs, and the sharp pain tugged a cry from my lips. I clamped my teeth together and hobbled into the kitchen. It was lighter in there. Moonlight pouring through the window. My stomach rolled at the stale smell of the fried eggs mum had cooked for dinner. What was I doing? I reached for the back door, my fingertips gripped the key. Every instinct in me was telling me to go back to bed; I was bound to get caught. And yet I slipped on my shoes and turned the key. The back door creaked open.
I tiptoed down the side of the house. Paused as the latch on the gate squeaked open. It wasn’t too late. I could go back to bed, but while my mind wavered, my feet didn’t falter. I ran as fast as I could, not slowing until I reached the park.
He was there, in shadows, slowly spinning on the roundabout that squeak, squeak, squeaked.
I suppose if I had slowed down, I might have realised the figure was too tall to be Jake. Too stocky. I suppose I might have noticed the white van parked outside the park gates. But as it was, it wasn’t until I drew alongside him I realised it wasn’t Jake at all.
It was Aaron.
The initial stab of betrayal I felt as I realised Lisa must have texted me from Jake’s phone paled in comparison to the fear that rose as Aaron stood and loomed towards me. A twisted expression on his face.
32
Now
The community centre shrinks in my rear-view mirror. Lisa chats about the singing, the dancing, but all I hear is white noise. The terror I’d felt at being locked in the toilet still nestles beneath my skin, and I drive faster than I should. Desperate to be home. To feel safe.
‘Shit.’ I’ve pulled into the cul-de-sac too fast, almost in the path of an Interflora van. My brakes squeal as I screech to a halt.
As the van stops and cuts its engine, I put my car into neutral and pull on my handbrake. The delivery driver steps out, opening the back doors, and I am fearing the worst, but instead of a wreath, he pulls out a bouquet. Sunshine sunflowers and creamy roses. I puff out a sigh of relief. Sunflowers are my favourite, and Nick includes them in every bouquet he sends me. I think he must be feeling guilty about being away, although I see from his car on our driveway he is already back.
‘Are they for me?’ I step out of the car and flash a smile as I hold out my hands.
‘Number eight?’ the driver asks.
‘No. I…’ I glance over the road and gesture towards Clare’s house. He thanks me and I stand, hand shading the sun, and watch as Clare opens the door. Even from this distance I can see the joy lighting up her face.
Inside, I call Nick’s name, racing through the house. In the kitchen I hear the gurgle of water gushing through the pipes above me. Nick must be in the shower. I tell Lisa I’ll be back in a sec and take the stairs two at a time, bursting into the en-suite.
‘You’re home!’ I state the obvious.
‘Are you okay?’ Nick studies me, and I don’t know what to say. How can I tell him I thought I was locked in a toilet? Someone delivered a wreath to the wrong address? Dialled the wrong number? It sounds ridiculous, and he’s already looking at me with concern, the way he does when my panic attacks are fierce. Snatching my breath. Rendering me helpless. He wouldn’t understand, and how could he unless I tell him the truth? The urge to be honest bites at me but the ramifications are enormous and I would crumble under the weight of them.
‘How was your trip?’ I deflect. Even in the steam of the bathroom Nick looks washed out.
The minty shower gel swirling in soapy suds at his feet clearly hasn’t refreshed him. He has lost weight, his stomach almost flat. He twists off the dial and the showerhead drip-drip-drips. ‘It was fine. Everything is close to being sorted. I might need to go away for another weekend though.’ He yawns. ‘An early night is in order.’
‘I’m up for that.’ I’ll sleep easier with him next to me.
‘I might sleep in the spare room tonight. I’m so knackered. You can stay up late with Lisa and not have to worry about waking me when you come up to bed.’
My protests gather and retreat. He’s never slept in the spare room before but his eyes are rimmed red and he does look exhausted.
‘‘I’ll start dinner.’
‘I’m not that hungry.’ He steps out of the cubicle.
‘You must eat with us. Lisa is here.’
‘I don’t know if I can cope with all the baby talk. The family stuff. Sorry,’ he adds as my face falls. ‘Of course I’ll join you. I’m just shattered. I’ll be down soon.’
I hesitate for a second before leaving the room but he doesn’t speak again, scouring furiously at his skin with a rough white towel instead, as though he wishes he could rub himself away.
In the kitchen Lisa is lifting things out of the fridge. ‘I thought I’d cook.’ She sets a box of eggs on the side.
‘I’m supposed to be looking after you.’
‘I know it shook you up. What happened earlier.’
‘Do you think someone deliberately locked me in?’
‘Why would they do that?’ Lisa tilts her head to one side as she waits for my answer.
‘I don’t know.’ Outside the window the sky is darkening. Day dissolving into night. ‘What are you cooking?’
‘How about a frittata? Do you have a silicon dish?’
‘No, but Clare probably does. I need to see if she’s sold her raffle tickets yet for the bank holiday fundraiser.’ I jam my feet back into my shoes.
Outside, the wind is whipping the cherry tree outside our house and it creaks and bends. I knock on Clare’s door and wrap my arms around myself to keep out the biting chill as I wait.
‘Kat!’ Surprise crosses her face.
I shuffle from foot to foot trying to keep warm. ‘Could I borrow a silicon baking dish?’
‘Sure.’ She hesitates, glances behind her before stepping backwards. ‘Come in a sec.’
‘Gorgeous flowers.’ The bouquet delivered earlier stands on the coffee table in a cracked silver vase. ‘Secret admirer?’
‘Unfortunately not.’ I wait for her to elaborate further, but she walks into the kitchen and calls over her shoulder: ‘I’ll just grab you the silicon dish.’
Her heels click-click-click against the tiles in the kitchen. I can’t resist crossing the lounge and picking out the card that came with the flowers. Scribbled in blue biro is the letter ‘N’ and a single x but that is enough to make my heart twist. Clare’s footsteps grow louder, and I drop the card and pick up a brochure for Italy and thumb through it, hardly taking in the images of brilliant blue sky and white sandy beaches. Nick and I never did book that holiday.
‘It looks stunning doesn’t it?’ Clare peers over my shoulder. ‘I fancy the coast but think I’m going to start with Rome.’
‘Expensive?’ The word slips out automatically but she is always complaining Akhil doesn’t pay maintenance.