I call Nick to ask him whether I should cancel the credit cards, but his phone is off so I text instead. For a second I’m at a loss. I want to tally all the cash I collected, finish the balance sheets, and make a payment to the bank today. I remember the money in the safe. I’d sold four books so I’ll take ￡20. I should wait for Nick to come home really; he was annoyed I’d taken out the money for the cab before and forgot to tell him, and I promised him I wouldn’t go in there again. If I find my purse, though, he’ll never know, and if I don’t do this I’ll only sit and think dark thoughts. I punch in Nick’s birthday combination nevertheless and pull the door, my mouth falling open when I see what’s inside. What isn’t inside.
In place of the stack of notes is a teddy bear, and I lift him out and finger the red ribbon tight around his neck. He isn’t new. There are thinning patches of fur, and his nose is hanging off. Where did he come from? Nick wouldn’t be giving this to our baby. I sniff the top of the bear’s head. Musty. At once I want to ring Nick and ask him about it but I spot a small black box in the corner of the safe. Inside, nestled on black velvet, is a ring. Emerald and diamonds sparkle. I run my fingers over the stones. It must be for my thirtieth birthday. That explains the missing money. We share a bank account and buying presents for each other is always awkward. I’d brought up my birthday last week, not wanting Nick to be extravagant but he was evasive and now I see why. He’s already thinking about it. I can’t help slipping the ring onto my index finger and holding my hand up to the light, watching the diamonds sparkle. It fits perfectly and I practice widening my eyes, loosening my jaw, the perfect ‘surprised’ face, but I can’t even summon any fake enthusiasm. Where did the bear come from and why didn’t Nick show him to me? I can’t even ask him now or he’ll know I’ve seen the ring. A hot flush sweeps over me and I bundle everything back into the safe exactly as I found it. The phone rings again. I won’t answer it this time. I won’t.
As I leave the study I catch a glimpse of a figure at the end of the driveway, staring at the house. Why would anyone be standing outside in the pouring rain? My panic rises quickly. Someone is out to get me. Nick won’t believe me. I can’t calm down. I don’t know who I am morphing into. I don’t even know my husband any more. Why isn’t there enough air? I stretch the neck of my T-shirt.
The phone falls silent. Seconds later there is a banging on the front door, hard and relentless. The bulk of a man visible through the glass. I can’t take this any more. Unbidden my fingertips twist the key, begin to turn the handle. My heart rate goes wild again as I prepare to face whoever is out there.
34
Then
There was a horrible, horrible minute when Nick thought he’d beaten his dad to death, but he’d staggered to his feet. Neither Nick nor his mum made a move to stop him swaying down the hallway, shoulder bumping into the walls, hand pressed against his head. They had both flinched when the front door slammed shut.
Dusk fell, casting shadows across the kitchen, but neither Nick nor his mum flicked on the light switch. He didn’t want to see the disappointment in her eyes, and he wished darkness would fall a little quicker, to cloak his shame.
‘Do you think he’ll come back?’ Nick stared into his untouched coffee, a skin forming across the top. He kept his hands stuffed under the table where he couldn’t see his swollen knuckles, although he could still feel them throbbing.
‘I don’t know where else he’d go.’ Nick’s mum sipped her tea now it had cooled, careful not to press the cup against the left side of her mouth.
‘Mum. You should leave him. Kick him out. Something.’
‘He wasn’t always like this, you know. We met at a dance. Elvis was singing ‘Are you Lonesome Tonight?’ and he offered me his hand and twirled me around the floor. Afterwards we sat and talked for hours, and nobody had ever been so interested in what I had to say. We laughed so much.’
Nick didn’t think his mum would see the slight raise of his eyebrows in the semi-darkness, but she said ‘I know. I know. But he was funny and kind and he was a different person then. The accident changed him. Being in constant pain. Not being able to work. He felt less of a man, I suppose. Lost his purpose.’
‘It doesn’t excuse him hitting you,’ Nick said quietly.
‘I know but I kept hoping he would come back. That man I fell in love with. When I was ill it was the real him who brought me cups of tea and held my hand during chemo. Not this other version of him.’ Her voice cracked.
They fell into silence. Nick was unsure what to say. Outside, a car alarm screamed. Nick gazed out of the window at the moon and, although he was an adult, he still wished he had a rocket sometimes and could zoom into space. The sky, popping with stars, always seemed so still. So peaceful.
‘He could come back again, couldn’t he?’ Mum sniffed, and Nick’s heart broke as he realised she was crying. ‘He did it before and he must still be there somewhere. Under the pain, the anger, the frustration. The man who used to bring me a bunch of carnations after work every Friday, and a bacon sandwich in bed on a Sunday. Is it too late, Nick? For him to be the father he was? He doted on you once, you know. He’d make a coin appear from behind your ear and you’d look at him with such wonder. With such love.’
Nick screwed his eyes and searched through his memory. It sounded as though his mum was talking about someone else, but despite everything, he felt something inside him soften. He was about to ask her how old he was, and when it all went wrong, wanting to get to know this other father, this stranger, when there was a thumping at the front door.
‘I bet he’s forgotten his keys.’ Mum scraped her chair back, but Nick stretched out his hand and touched her arm.
‘Let me go.’
Nick felt strangely calm as he walked towards the front door, towards his father’s apologies. He wondered whether this might be a new beginning for them all. A chance to sit down and talk. A fresh start. But as he opened the door his stomach dipped.
‘Nicholas White?’ said the policeman, a stern expression on his face. ‘I’m arresting you on suspicion of assault.’ And as the policeman read Nick his rights he couldn’t hear anything except the click of the handcuffs. He twisted his neck and saw his mum hovering behind him, hands clapped over her mouth, but he couldn’t feel anything except the cold steel of the metal and his icy, icy heart.
35
Now
Hairy knees are the first thing I see as I crack open the front door.
‘Morning, Mrs White.’ Our postman, forever cheerful, forever in shorts no matter how bad the weather, hands me a rain-damp package. My eyes are drawn over his shoulder, and there’s a dishevelled-looking man, salt-and-pepper beard, staring right at me, and instinctively I know he is the one who has been here before. Our eyes connect and he glances at the floor, but he doesn’t move. I close the door quickly and lean against it, my spine uncomfortable against the ridged surface. The package feels heavy in my hands. Part of me wants to throw it away without opening it, knowing whatever is inside the package will be bad. The image of the wreath is burned onto the inside of my eyelids.
My fingers are shaking as I start to peel off the soggy cardboard which disintegrates as I touch it. Inside is a book.
How to Cope with Death.
It tumbles from my hand as fear slides me to my haunches. I can’t. I can’t cope with death.
Ten years.
You mustn’t tell, Kat.
I am longing to tell, to atone, but I am frightened. Still too frightened. I cover my head with my arms as though I can make everything go away.
The ringing phone slices through my wandering thoughts. I am still crouching on the doormat, the book lying at my feet. I have to get out of here. Be amongst people. Away from the house and the phone and the endlessly waiting for something awful to happen. I grab my car keys. My feet feel glued to the doormat. I grip the door handle tightly with both hands, urging my wrists to twist, but panic turns my body to stone. I fight to regain control. Waves of heat radiate from my toes to my scalp and I feel myself begin to sway.