Before snatching a defiant Jack. With Jack in your hands you dealt another blow, another lesson. My already bruised ribs crunched on the ground as Jack squealed. I felt nothing, as pain and cold numbness mingled, knowing this was just the beginning. You turned away with your traumatised son and strapped him into his seat. I pressed upwards. I couldn’t allow you to take Jack without me. Please forgive me, Jack, I had no choice.
We drove back in silence, you humming a cheerful tune to yourself, whilst Jack remained frozen behind. Why did you have to come back to the house? When I had everything ready to leave, why did I take so long, faffing? We could have escaped. As we turned into the driveway, I couldn’t believe my luck, seeing the unknown but familiar black car, the fat, balding man leaning up against it. He looked rougher than I did, nearly. A fleeting glance at you informed me you were not amused by his presence. You had an agenda for us, didn’t you? You thumped your palm on the steering wheel, knowing there would be a delay in my punishment.
‘Wait here,’ you instructed me, jumping from the car. I watched the frustrated, hostile exchanges before you returned and leant into the car; you hurled the keys at me. ‘Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll be home in a couple of hours. I mean it, Eve. Do. Not. Betray. Me. The world is not a big enough place for you to hide.’
Thank you, God. Thank you. I watched them speed away before I dared move. I turned to Jack, sitting stunned in the back, and reached for his hand. ‘It’s okay, Jack. It’s over now. Come on, let’s get ready for our adventure. We need to be quick, sweetheart.’ I left him, running into the house, only to retrieve my keys, bags, shoes and coats before slamming the heavy door behind us. No going back.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Cornwall 2016
‘So, Milly. I’m so happy you and mum are communicating again.’
She nods. ‘Yeah, it’s good. We’ve been over all the… stuff. He’s gone now, Mum’s boyfriend. I was scared that he’d come back. But Mum’s said she’ll go the police again if he does, so I’m kinda okay with it now. I got myself all worked up about it.’ She pulls back her sleeve. ‘Couldn’t get it out my head. I did this, the other night.’
I’m looking at a nasty cut, on her arm. ‘Okay, thank you for being honest.’ I smile at her. ‘Can I ask – what played through your mind when you hurt yourself? What did you tell yourself? Take your time, put yourself back in the exact moment, think about where you were, what you were wearing. What were you thinking, Milly?’
‘That I’ll feel better when it’s done. That I’ll be okay.’
‘Okay. And did you?’
‘Not this time. I felt guilty.’
‘Guilty?’
‘Yeah. ?Cos of Mum. I promised her. And she’s really sad already.’
‘She is, but mostly because she’s been so worried about you. Perhaps you can see now, it’s the thought of harming yourself, rather than the actual act of doing it, that makes you feel better, for a moment?’ Two lost eyes search my face. ‘The expectation of what the harming will give you. Not the actual harming itself. The actual harming hurts, I’m guessing?’
‘It does, yeah.’
‘It probably hurts even more now, because now you realise Mum is there; is going through all this with you.’
‘Probably.’
‘The harming, it stops you from working out what makes you so unhappy and, more importantly, what to do about it. The bully, remember, the voice in your head, it tells you what to do, that it’s the only way and for the best. It’s the very thing that has locked you into a world of hurt. It lies to you, Milly. Prevents you from working through any problems, so it can keep control of you. For good reason, because if you fight back, stop listening to it – it will lose power, die. Does this make sense?’
‘Yeah.’
‘So today, let’s knock out the lies, and replace them with truths. Put a plan together, decide on a better way to deal with problems.’ She nods at me. Her happiness has fallen prey to the bullies in her life, aided by the Internet. I can’t remove her from this social world she now lives in, only help her to stay in control of her choices.
I drive home, thoughtful about Milly and the many others. Is this another victim of the instant satisfaction society? I’ve a problem; it needs instant resolution. I don’t want to think about it, wait and sort things through. But then, if I’d taken this approach instead, maybe Jack and I would be free by now. I had a bully in my head, I heard it and, on the surface, obeyed it; but I also repelled it. Needing to get close enough, in order to be rid of it. I always kept in mind just how convincing the lies were becoming. That bullies are cowards, and at some point they need to be faced. I’m fearful but also weirdly excited with the thought of being rid of you. Petrified of being in your presence again, but I’m stronger now; I’m as ready for you as I’ll ever be. I hope I’m doing the right thing. Last week, at 08.10 sharp, you called my mobile. Only this time, for some reason, you forgot to withhold your number – was this deliberate? Whilst sitting with Milly, I decided – tonight is the night, I am going to text you.
My journey home is lost in thought. Then when I arrive, straight away I notice Jack is not back yet. The house is in darkness. Where is he? He was supposed to be dropped home after football, before now? I call his mobile; it diverts to voicemail. Though I’m as sure as I can be it was a deliberate rejection. Why would he do this? He knows how worried I quickly become. My imagination begins to fire: is he with someone he shouldn’t be with? Doing something he shouldn’t be? Or has someone else taken his mobile from him? I drop my briefcase to the floor, suddenly aware of the weight. Should I go and look for him? I sweep through the ground floor, flicking light switches. My mobile pings in my hand:
Back in 5. Stop worrying x
My breathing begins to move down my chest – but why didn’t he pick up my call in the first place? I gather up my coat and briefcase; at least he’s safe. It’s all that matters. I clatter through the front room, towards the stairs as Humphrey bounces down the last step, meowing, twirling his soft fur around my legs.
‘At least I have you.’ I drop my briefcase again to pick him up, as he nuzzles his cold nose against my cheek. But there’s a scent of something. Not in the air; a foreign scent, not unpleasant, more – unknown. I sniff at Humphrey’s fur again. It’s on him, the strange smell. He must have been in all day, with no way out. Yet, someone else has stroked him. A subtle smell of something woody, slightly sweet, hand cream? Aftershave? I tread through to the kitchen; everything looks the same. I try the back door; it’s locked. I scan the room looking for deviations; nothing as it shouldn’t be. Then it occurs to me, how is Humphrey in the house? When I left this morning, he was outside. I’m sure he was, or was that yesterday?
‘Mum?’ Jack calls from the front door. I start, turning to face him.
‘Where have you been, Jack? You’re really late!’ I spot his mobile flashing in his hand as he flings his bag to the floor.
‘Yeah, sorry. It went into extra time.’
‘Extra time? I thought it was training tonight?’
‘No.’ He tilts his head. ‘I did say I’d a match, not training. This morning.’
Did he? Am I really becoming so absent-minded? I’d normally have made the effort to go and watch. Or is he just making excuses? ‘I don’t remember. Even so, how long is extra time? You’re still really late.’ Why am I doing this? Because I’m angry with myself for forgetting? Because I’m so stressed? Or because I’m so frightened for him?
‘What the hell, Mum? The usual time, then penalties. How about, did you win, Jack?’ He stomps past me.
‘You don’t look very dirty.’ I follow him.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll go outside now, roll in the mud, shall I?’ He turns back from the kitchen, grabbing his bag from the floor.
‘I’m sorry, baby. Come here, give me a hug.’ I throw my arms around him, drawing him in to plant a kiss on his cold cheek; he smells of fresh air. ‘I’m sorry, Jack, I didn’t mean to be horrible. I just get so worried. How did you get on? Did you win?’
‘Yeah, 3-2 after penalties.’ He walks through to the kitchen to pour himself an obligatory glass of milk.