I pull out two A4 printed sheets with eyes half closed, my head wispy with the lack of oxygen. With trembling legs, I walk further into the light of the fire to make sense of what I’m holding. A copy of our marriage certificate, and a copy of Jack’s birth certificate. Then, I notice your additions; in black thick lettering scrawled diagonally across each of the sheets. On the birth certificate the word MINE, on the marriage certificate the words TILL DEATH DO US PART, glare back at me.
I instinctively turn back for the front door, throw it open, ignoring the cries of Bea and Ruan; I stagger towards the gate, now closed. It’s so dark, my eyes struggle to adjust but I manage to catch a glimpse of a disappearing dusky shadow, without a question of doubt – belonging to a man. He does not move at speed; to the contrary, he walks with a slow, sure confidence. I consider for one stupid moment running after him, but my feet refuse to budge. Then I’m grabbed from behind by Ruan.
‘He’s back, he was right here, within a couple of feet from me, a few moments ago, we were side by side pretty much.’
Ruan doesn’t respond as I fall against him. My body stiff with fear, then anger.
At least I now know for sure: you’ve found us.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Before
Anyone would have thought we were short of money. I stood at the till, counting out coppers. I only wanted some fruit for Jack. I’d made the stupid mistake of not including it on the online grocery shop, with only one chance to include all the items I needed. Once all the items in the basket were added for checkout, you would comb through, removing any frivolous non-essentials, as you saw them. Usually, this was anything personal for me, skin-care items, hair products or similar. Even though I was working part-time, my earnings were minimal compared to the monthly outgoings of mortgage, car payments et cetera. You considered I didn’t contribute sufficiently, insisted my salary was paid entirely into our marital joint account, all of which was allocated, other than the small amount you gave me each week to use for Jack. This, though, I’d stashed away, for future needs.
You were unaware of my intentions, so what on earth were you scared of? But then, it was never about fear; it was about control and power. Were you becoming scared of losing these, even before you did?
I reached into my pocket at the trill of my mobile.
‘Eve?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where are you?’
‘Out with Jack, why?’
‘Obviously, but what are you doing?’
‘I promised him I’d take him to the park, why?’
‘Right.’ I could hear your mind ticking. ‘Then, are you heading straight home?’
‘Yes… of course; why wouldn’t I be?’
‘Thought, maybe for a treat you could take Jack for a pizza. But if you’re going to be argumentative about it, I—’
‘No. Wait, don’t say this. How am I being argumentative?’
‘There you go again, can’t help yourself.’ You sighed heavily into the handset. ‘I can’t be dealing with you, if…’
What were you up to? Trying to cause an argument, so I’d become submissive, then you could get your own way. For whatever it was you’d really called me for. This transpired so many times; I knew how to play the game. You were definitely up to something, I needed to find out what.
‘I’m sorry, Gregg; I wasn’t meaning to argue with you.’
‘Well, you were.’
‘Okay, in that case, I apologise.’
‘Good.’ Your smugness seeped through my mind. I bit down hard on my teeth. ‘I was going to suggest you take Jack out for his tea, to the new ghastly American diner place, near Warwick. On the industrial estate, by Sainsbury’s.’
Oh, how joyous. How kind of you. ‘Mmm. That would have been lovely, but how can I? I don’t have my cards or any cash.’ You should know.
‘Not a problem. I’ll call the restaurant now, leave my card details. They’ll be happy with this.’
You really thought you were doing me a monumental favour. What were you planning so important to need to gift us a treat, to keep us away from the house? ‘Okay. Thank you. Great.’ My words were like razors at my throat. How dare you? How dare you call me to give permission to take my son for pizza, and expect gratitude? I felt my blood flood with adrenaline; all I really wanted to do was tell you where to stick pizza. It was becoming harder and harder.
‘Sorted, then. I’ll call them now, see to the bill. In fact, why not make a night of it? Don’t rush. No need. Jack can have one of those atrocious American sugary ice creams for afters too.’ You chortled into your handset like a father who cared.
‘Yes, he’d like that. Yes, okay. I’ll see you later, then.’
‘You may or may not; I’ll be back home shortly but heading out again for a late dinner meeting around eight. Like I said, take your time.’
I could tell from the echo you were still on the train, on your way home from Birmingham. Clearly, with plans for the evening, but not just the meeting; you wanted me out of the house until you left. Did you actually believe I was so stupid? For someone so astute, you really hadn’t worked me out. Or had you? Was this a trap?
I squeezed Jack’s hand. ‘Jack, do you know anyone at all who would love to go for a special tea? Pizza or burger?’
‘Me-e-e, me-e-e. Jack does!’
‘Shall we go for a little treat? You and Mummy?’
‘Yes-s-s-s. Mummy and Jack go for a treat.’ He began jumping up and down, yanking on my arm. ‘What’s for treat, Mummy?’
As much as I wanted to dart straight home, I couldn’t deny Jack the opportunity of this rare treat. The last time the three of us visited a restaurant, all themed for his birthday, you eventually turned up, tanked-up, in a terrible mood and were as obnoxious as possible all evening. I quietly cried in the toilets; the whole experience was so far removed from your wishes for your child’s birthday. For some godforsaken reason, I’d hoped it would be different. What a fool. Other parents often took their children for tea, after our clubs. I was invited, but how could I go without money? I needed to go along with the meal; you would undoubtedly check on our arrival with the restaurant. I’d hurry it along so as to return to the house before you left for the evening.
The dark was drawing in by the time we turned down the lane towards the driveway. As expected, we had company. The same cars as before, except for one that was conspicuous. Unlike the other more sophisticated, valeted, this-year’s-model cars; a more tasteless, loud and old, white saloon-type car with blacked-out windows sat behind the others. I loitered at the bottom of the driveway behind the gates, which were closed. I glanced at Jack, who’d fallen asleep. Did I really want to take him into the house? I’d a bad feeling about it. But I also needed to find out what you were up to.
In the end, I tucked the car into the small layby just to the side of our gates. I didn’t want to take Jack in, but equally I couldn’t leave and miss this opportunity. Slightly opening my window to relieve the misting glass, I sat and waited, feeling my chest rapidly rise and fall. You’d stated you’d be leaving around eight and would be expecting me home at some point, so I reckoned I hadn’t long to wait. Eventually, the hall light illuminated shapes across the driveway, indicating movement in the house. I ever so quietly released my car door so as not to wake Jack, discreetly squeezing myself through the gap up against the hedge.