‘Yeah, I suppose so. But I dunno, there’s something not right about them. Then last night, it all made sense. When I saw you like that, again. You think he’s back too, don’t you, Mum?’ He looks up at me, searching for answers, but ones I know he doesn’t really want the truth for.
I think about telling him, of course I don’t think he’s back. I think about lying. But then, Jack’s right, he’s really not stupid. I should give him more credence and respect than to lie to him. Most importantly, if you are back, Jack needs to know. I need to keep him safe above all and everything else. Lulling him into a false sense of security is not going to help. But what if I’m wrong and I reignite all of Jack’s dark past, for no reason at all? I simply can’t take the risk; I need to warn him, gently. Is this even possible?
By the way Jack, I think your psychopathic father has hunted us down, he’s watching us, waiting for the right moment to corner us, but try not to worry about it too much. What are you up to today anyway – got anything nice planned?
‘I’m just not sure. He could be, but I really don’t know for certain. I don’t want to frighten you, but you must be aware from now on. You know what I mean – be watchful. I could be wrong, you see. I know what I’m like, my imagination, I mean.’
‘Mmm. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? It’s kinda creepy, but I can sort of feel him. You know, it’s like I can feel him near.’
An icy shiver runs through my bones with his words. I know exactly what he means. ‘What do you mean, Jack? It’s really important you tell me everything you know. Is there or has there been anything else? Other than the odd friend requests?’
Jack shrugs at first, then glances back at his empty bowl, and begins to play with the spoon. He’s about five years old again. Vulnerable and scared. I hate myself for bringing him into this horrible world. I take his hand in mine over the table. ‘What is it? You need to tell me, please.’
His blue eyes take on a grey tinge. ‘The other day, when I was walking up from the beach with Fyn and the others, a car drove past us really slowly.’
‘Did you see him – the driver, I mean? Was it a man?’
‘Yeah, it was definitely a guy, but Fyn’s head was in the way when he drove past us, I couldn’t see his face. Loads of cars drive slowly there, from the beach. I didn’t think anything of it at first.’
‘So, what happened? Why did it suddenly worry you?’
‘Dunno. ?Cos, I guess, he was obviously looking for something or someone. It’s not the holidays anymore, so down where we were, it’s mainly locals, we know them. But it was the way, after he passed us, he sort of stopped, adjusted his rear-view mirror. Then, he… he stared straight at me. In the eyes. When he saw me looking, he drove off really slowly, still staring at me, then accelerated, like pretty fast.’
‘When was this?’
‘The other night, not last night but the night before.’
The night of the 911. Charlie’s words bounce through my mind. ‘But you were at Fyn’s house that night.’
‘Yeah, but we’d gone down for the surf earlier on.’ He shrugs at me.
‘Jack, what car was he driving? Can you remember?’
‘Yep. That’s what made me turn in the first place. It sounded so cool. A Porsche 911, a blue one. I kinda recognised it, the sound of the engine.’
I squeeze his now-clenched fist. ‘Jack, I don’t want you being alone from now on. Not at home, not walking back from anywhere, for now. We might be wrong but until we know for sure, okay? You are not to go or be anywhere alone.’
He nods at me. The expression in his eyes rebukes me. How could I have allowed this to happen to him? Why can’t he just have normal teenage worries, typical teenage thoughts? I need to find a way to allow Jack to move on. I thought I had, but clearly it’s not going to be enough. I should have known better. I’ve once again put my beautiful boy at risk; I thought back then it was hard enough to protect him, but now, with his growing independence, it’s all the more frightening.
Chapter Sixteen
Before
I don’t think anyone can prepare you for your first child. I didn’t realise it was possible to love so wholly. Conflicting emotions of utter enchantment yet absolute fear smothered me. Scared of not being able to protect and provide all this bundle of joy could ever need; terror of not being able to shield him from the life I was rapidly being submerged by. Sad with the understanding he would be short of all the precious subtleties of life I wanted him to have. A growing awareness over the previous months that I did not know who my husband was; I didn’t know what he was up to; for most of the time he was an unmitigated stranger.
My beautiful baby boy, Jack.
A newborn; into a world I no longer recognised or cared for. How was I in a position to guide and shelter? Alone; cut off and insecure. How had it all snowballed so quickly? In such a relatively brief period of time? The first time I held Jack, the old me walked out of the door, a new me seized control. My priorities changed, my wishes, wants and the focus of my drive and motivation aligned with them. Jack was so unbelievably perfect; I was terrified I would let him down or accidentally harm him in some way. I’d read all the books, attended all the classes, but even so nothing had prepared me. Uncertainty and self-doubt tore through my conscience, shredding my confidence further.
We sat together, I just grateful of her presence, Janet, my health visitor, oblivious to my thoughts. How could I tell her? She would have doubted my ability to be a fit mother. I’d heard the horror stories of social services taking children into care, asking questions later, realising they got it wrong. I couldn’t risk it, ever. She gently touched my hand and smiled with soft eyes as she spoke.
‘Don’t worry, Eve, it’s completely natural to feel this way.’ She didn’t know anything really. Perhaps I hadn’t kept it as covered up as I’d thought. ‘Many of the mums I speak with feel a little low in the beginning.’ She dipped her compassionate head.
My eyes welling at her kind words, I wanted nothing more than this show of humanity but I couldn’t cope with sympathetic words. They stung deep inside, forcing me to ache all the more. I yearned so many times for understanding and gentleness, but it only deepened the open wound. I was perhaps scared of compassion, realising it would then feel worse to be without it. It was easier not to be reminded of the loss.
I regarded her caring hand still on mine. ‘What do you mean?’
Slim lips turned upwards. ‘You look lost, Eve. A little overwhelmed. I hope you don’t mind me saying. I thought it might reassure you to hear lots of mums feel the same in the beginning. You’re not alone.’
But I was. I couldn’t have been more alone. ‘Thank you,’ I snuffled. ‘It’s okay. It does help a little, I suppose. It’s easy to presume I’m the only one.’ I pushed my head back to stop tears from falling. Urging the threatening globules to retreat.
‘Here.’ She offered me a tissue. ‘You don’t need to hide those from me. It doesn’t make you a bad person. To cry.’ I didn’t dare start though; I wasn’t sure how I would stop if I did. I desperately attempted to avert my mind to trivial housekeeping thoughts. I found concentrating on the practicalities, despite not being able to address even a fraction of the list, some form of comfort. Left-hemisphere distraction.
‘You know, you’re really being rather hard on yourself. You’ve only been home…’ She counted, nodding her head. ‘Wait. Just two days! This little fella’s only three days old.’ She pulled at his pure-white-cotton-enclosed leg, Jack gently kicking back at her touch.