“Because you brought me here,” yells Michael.
“We’re going to the police,” I say, raising the hammer to my chest in an attempt to ward off either of them trying anything. “Then we’ll find out which one of you is the liar.”
I can just make out the opening bars of the Adagio as the soft strings drift on the breeze, and I turn toward the copse that leads to the concert site. It’s just a split-second lapse in awareness, but in that moment there’s a sudden whoosh of air and an animalistic roar; a feral battle cry that reverberates around my core, shaking my very foundations. I don’t even have time to lift the hammer before a looming mass of limbs reaches out toward me.
Michael’s weight falls onto me, his arms going around my neck, locking on my throat as he pushes me forward. I try to stay upright, but he’s dragging me down and I stumble.
All I can see, as I desperately try to right myself, is the deep green algae-topped water of the swimming pool in front of me. I know that if I go in there, I’ll never come back out again.
I try to turn, thrashing out with my hands, aiming for whatever part of him I can hit, but he pins my arms down by my side, giving me no way to protect myself as the ground comes up to meet me.
My head jolts backward as my chin makes impact and I groan as the air in my diaphragm is forced out of me. I can’t help but wonder if I’m already dead as everything around me seems to have stopped, the silence deafening.
There were never going to be any winners in this, but the shock that Michael is not the man I thought he was assaults me. That I’d allowed his alter-ego, Jacob, to manipulate and play with my good intentions and malleable heart—right to the very end. How had I not seen the chink in his armor? That tiny tell-tale sign that he was the abuser and not the abused.
“Please,” I whisper, just to test if I’m still alive. “Just think about what you’re doing. Think of your boys.”
He makes a grunting sound as his weight shifts, and for a second I dare to believe that he’s really listening to what I’m saying.
“You’re their father. The man who is supposed to protect them at all costs. But how can you if you’re not here?”
“He’s never protected them,” hisses Vanessa.
“Don’t,” bellows Michael, lifting himself off me. I slowly roll over to see his silhouette rising up into the sky, moving toward Vanessa. She backs herself up against the stables, cowering in his shadow.
“Shall I tell her what you did to Ben?” she says. “That you left the door open for him to wander off. That you were too drunk to know if he was in his bed or not.”
“You were there as well,” Michael chokes out. “It wasn’t just my fault.”
“You told me you’d locked the door,” screeches Vanessa. “You led me to believe that you’d checked—like any self-respecting father would have done. It was your responsibility to ensure the safety of our children and I was foolish to believe that you’d put them first—instead of the bottle. How could I have been so stupid?”
“I swear I locked the door,” cries Michael, with tears running down his face.
“So how come our little boy was able to let himself out and wander down to the sea in the dark?”
I push myself up onto my elbows, listening in abject horror at the events that had led to Ben’s untimely death. So that had been the catalyst that Jacob had alluded to—the magical day that had turned into a nightmare, after which nothing had ever been the same again. How could it?
“If it weren’t for you, he would still be alive,” yells Vanessa, as a guttural cry escapes from somewhere deep inside her. “My little boy would still be with me, holding my hand, giving me cuddles.”
“He wouldn’t be a little boy anymore,” whispers Michael. “He’d be a young man.”
I look between them, not knowing whose version of the child they lost is true; is Michael looking to distance himself from the son he let down just last year? Or is Vanessa clinging on to the boy she lost a decade ago?
“But he’ll never get to be that man now, will he?” she wails. “Because the daddy who professed to love him so much—”
“Stop!” yells Michael, bearing down over Vanessa as she presses herself into the flintstone wall. “Just stop.”
I want to run, knowing that this could be my only chance, but how can I? Vanessa needs me, just like my mother needed me, and I’m not going to make the same mistake twice.
There’s a glint of something in the melee of limbs; a shimmer of silver as it slices through the air.
“No!” I scream, forcing myself up off the ground and going toward them.
But before I can get there, Vanessa cries out, and I watch helplessly as she falls like a timbered tree. The thud when she hits the ground is sickening, her head taking the full brunt.
She lies there motionless and I look at Michael, open-mouthed, as he stands over her with a knife in his hand.
“Oh my god,” I breathe, backing away. “Is she…?”
“Naomi!” says Michael, turning to face me.
“No!” I say, shaking. “Don’t come any nearer.”
“But it wasn’t my fault,” he says. “You saw how she was. You saw what she did.”
He looks at me, and I search his eyes for the man I thought he was, and for just a split second he’s there, imploring me to believe him.
“You’ve … you’ve killed her,” I cry.
He comes toward me and I turn and run, as fast as the pain in my body will allow.
“Naomi, stop!” he calls out.
My lungs burn as I fight for every breath I take. My legs turn to jelly, as adrenaline and the desire to survive courses through me.
“Naomi!”
Brambles hit my face but still my legs work in unison, powering forward over the uneven ground.
I’m almost through the woodland; I can see the perimeter fence of safety, hear the banging drums of The Marriage of Figaro, when my ankle buckles. I cry out as I fall forward, not least because I was so close to saving myself.
As I hit the ground, my ribs feel as if they’ve left imprints in the soil. I lie there in the dense undergrowth, forcing my panting breaths down into my diaphragm, making my chest feel as if it’s about to explode. I can’t make a sound. I can’t tell him where I am. Because I’ve no doubt that he’ll kill me too.
How have I become embroiled in this nightmare? Been sucked into the vortex of another couple’s toxic marriage?
Because that’s what you do, I hear Leon’s voice saying in my head. You can’t say I didn’t warn you.
Salty tears make tracks down my cheeks as it occurs to me how close he might be. I let them fall onto the undergrowth for fear that wiping them away will tell Michael where I am.
I freeze as I hear twigs snapping underfoot. It sounds as if he’s right here, so close that I can hear his labored breaths. Or is it just my own exhalation whistling through the trees?
The stones beneath me are beginning to feel as if I’m lying on a bed of nails. I clench my eyes tightly to shut off the pain.
Too scared to move yet, I strain my ears, listening for any clue as to where Michael might be.
There’s a splash of water, as if someone has jumped into the pool, and my heart stops, frozen in time as I try to work out what’s going on.
The realization creeps up slowly, but once it does, I can’t get to my feet quickly enough. The pain sears through me, but I have to get away from here—I can’t waste another second.
I’m a moving target as twigs crack and my breaths come in short, sharp, audible gasps. I can’t risk looking back to see if he’s heard me. This is my only chance to get help for Vanessa, even though it already seems too late to save her.
As I run away, toward the opening in the trees, I can’t help but picture her lifeless body floating down to the bottom of the pool. She looks so serene, but then I imagine her eyes opening as the water starts to choke her; her desperate attempt to get to the surface for air, only to be met by Michael’s forceful arm, pushing her back under.
I feel like I’m drowning myself as I push on, but I can’t stop. Not while Vanessa might still be fighting for her life.
28