‘Oh my God, Eve! Did you go to the police? That’s kidnapping.’
‘I didn’t go to the police, no. For several reasons. I’ll get to why, soon. Also, I did get into the car of my own accord, but only because I had to.’ This is what happens, and another reason I couldn’t go to the police. When you only speak in half-truths for self-protection, other issues, such as why I couldn’t go to the police, look odd. To go to the police after three years and report an abusive marriage, having attended public events, apparently lived an entirely carefree and normal life, without so much as a mention, is somewhat discrediting. Once you begin to lie, the truth will never look the same again.
Ruan catches up. ‘What a t—’
‘What happened to him, after the crash?’ interrupts Bea.
‘No one knows.’ I roll back to be caught by my comfortable sofa, curling my legs up tightly under me. Shit, what have I done? ‘I should have told you before. I’ve been so selfish. I didn’t mean to be.’
Ruan jumps up. ‘I’ll grab a bottle and some glasses.’ We don’t put up a fight. Bea makes herself comfortable, now sitting in front of me on the floor, perched on an oversized cushion. Ruan saunters back from the kitchen with his incongruent playful yet comforting smile. He offers me a glass full to spilling. I take a hefty slurp and gulp. He then lavishly fills the other two glasses. ‘I don’t care what you say, this is the answer to this kind of shit,’ he says.
‘Steady on, Ru, I can only have a sip. It’s okay for you, I’ve to drive later. Or, I suppose, I could get Matt to pick me up, get hammered instead.’ I can tell this is an appealing consideration for her. To be honest she looks as if she needs it more than I do. She leans forward to look me in the eyes. ‘You’re such a funny one, Eve. Why, oh, why haven’t you told us before? Actually, second thoughts, silly question. You’re such a flipping private person, aren’t you? You’d never have told us, would you? Unless…’ She pauses.
‘Unless what?’ Ruan helps out, slopping back on the sofa, the bounce spilling my wine.
‘Unless you’ve a damn good reason to. Unless you thought you had to.’
‘I…’
‘I’m not upset with you. It’s just you, isn’t it? How you are, my lovely. But come on, you have to let us help you now. Whatever it is. I mean, it’s over now, isn’t it? It can hardly get any worse, can it?’ Her thoughtful accent offers warmth. I gladly accept and hold on tight. But deep down I twist with the knowledge, despite her or their genuine intentions, they cannot possibly help us. This is something I need to do alone. And despite her beliefs, it can very easily get worse.
For one thing: if you did intend to kill us, you haven’t yet achieved it.
We’re silent for a moment, Bea and Ruan both waiting for me to spill more. Me wondering how much more I need to reveal; how much I can leave behind. Bumper to bumper, the words ricochet up in my throat. Colliding with one another. I need someone to push me. I’m back in clinic with divided thoughts; those I’m thinking and those I need to articulate. Occasionally leaving behind the truth. Delivering only what is required.
Ruan breaks the silence, his face holding the frown of a small child. ‘I don’t get it. I mean, I know some people have crap marriages, relationships… whatever. But why would someone want to kill their partner, husband, wife… whatever; why not just walk away?’
Good question. ‘I’ll come to this, Ruan; sorry for the cliché, but it’s complicated. All I’ll say is, Jack’s father is a white-collar psychopath, so normal rules, behaviours and such do not apply. Come on, Ruan, you know this – they don’t accept failure, are incapable of accepting responsibility and they never, ever give in. The word no doesn’t exist in their vocabulary, unless they’re the ones utilising it. It’s textbook.’
‘Yeah, now you say, I’ve read about this stuff, I think. It’s pretty interesting, isn’t it?’
Bea gives him a shut-it glare.
‘Shit, sorry, Eve. Wasn’t thinking. I meant, it’s interesting to read about; not so good if you’re living it though – eh?’ He smiles at me.
‘Don’t worry, it is fascinating, if you’re looking in on it, rather than locked into it.’
‘So, can you expand? Because, I’ve got to tell you, I don’t get it, at all. The hows or whys. Psychopath or not,’ says Bea.
I take a long swig of tepid wine. ‘To cut a ridiculously hideous long story stupidly short, that last night he arrived unannounced at our home, reeking of alcohol. Like I said, we were divorced, and after our stint in the rental flat, we moved to a cottage outside of the town. He took me and Jack in his car. Let’s just say, he had an agenda, we didn’t have a choice in this. But it didn’t go to plan; then his driving became scarily dangerous. The conditions were horrendous. The car left the road. The police later reported we may have skidded off the road. Perhaps this is why after a while they quit searching for him. They didn’t appreciate the truth. And I was too afraid to tell them.’
‘Why?’ asks Bea.
‘Because how could it be proven, especially with those road conditions? It would have been my word against his, a professional man. I could have used the fact he was over the limit but… oh, I don’t know, at the time I was, I guess, too scared of any recriminations. Extra recriminations. And a part of me hoped he had run and would keep running. A part of me prayed he was dead. I was too afraid to move, either way, afraid of him, afraid of going to the police. I didn’t have anyone to turn to for rational advice. It was just me and Jack and if there was a chance he was gone…’
‘You took it,’ says Ruan.
I nod. ‘But it wasn’t an accident. He drove us into the tree – I’m as certain as I can be. I woke up in the ambulance, with Jack in the one behind. The police advised me the driver was nowhere to be found by the time they arrived. How he wasn’t badly hurt too I’ll never know, or perhaps he was, we don’t know. He left us with some nasty injuries – me and Jack were both knocked out for a little while. Jack can’t really remember anything. He says it’s as if he has missing fragments of information, a temporary black screen. Thank God.’
‘Jesus, Eve. I’d no idea.’ Ruan leans forward, rubbing his hands through his hair before throwing himself back against the cushions again.
‘I can’t believe all this happened, yet neither of you have ever mentioned it.’ Bea swallows a mouthful of wine.
‘Jack was so young, Bea; just a little boy. It was a few years before we relocated to Cornwall. It’s not the kind of thing you drop into conversation. Then, as time goes on, you manage to push it away to a point. It’s not something you choose to recall at will.’
Bea nods.
‘So where could the bastard have gone?’ asks Ruan.
‘We don’t know. For a while, I told myself he’d wandered off hurt, died somewhere. We were in the middle of nowhere, incredibly wooded. But then, after some time when the police searches didn’t unearth anything, I had to accept he had literally crawled away somewhere. That he was still out there, in hiding.’ I find myself staring out towards the front window into the darkness. Could be anywhere, watching us.
‘What about his job, I assume he had one?’ Bea asks. ‘Did he abandon that too?’