‘I was a loyal husband and a good father and that – that whore took everything from me.’
I understood it at last. ‘So that was what Kate did. That was her revenge. You took her daughter and she took yours. An eye for an eye. She told you Bethany wasn’t your daughter and you stabbed her.’
‘She attacked me with the knife. It was self-defence.’
‘Oliver, you weigh twice what Kate did. You took the knife away from her and then you stabbed her, repeatedly. You murdered her because she made you realise you weren’t any of the things you thought you were. Not a good husband. Not a principled servant of the Church. Not a father at all. You’re right. She left you with nothing – because you’d left her with nothing.’
‘She didn’t deserve to live.’ He started to walk towards me.
I took a step back, and then another, wary. He was bigger than me. Stronger. Not as fast, possibly, if I ran for the door. But if I ran I’d leave Eleanor alone with him.
‘You are on your own, aren’t you?’ Oliver bit his lip. ‘You blundered in here alone.’
‘No, my colleagues know where I am.’
‘You’re bluffing.’ I could smell the tension in his sweat as he got closer; it was rolling off him in an acrid cloud. ‘I can tell.’
Eleanor had tried placating him. I went for defiance. ‘So what? What are you going to do – beat me into silence? That’s not going to work.’ He slapped me, which I hadn’t been expecting. I put the back of my hand to my face, considering whether shutting up might actually be a good idea. It was too late for that. ‘You might as well hand yourself in. It’s over, Oliver. This church, your job, your family – it’s all finished.’
‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘Not quite.’
Then his hands were on my neck, squeezing hard, and black flowers bloomed in front of my eyes. I stumbled backwards, colliding with a wall, the edges of my vision flashing with white light. I kicked, knowing it was too late, that I didn’t have the coordination or the strength to free myself, and all I could see was Oliver’s face, contorted with effort, glazed in sweat. There was no doubt in his eyes, only the determination that comes from believing you have a God-given right to behave as you like. I was nothing to him but an inconvenience, and that was how I would die. It wasn’t heroic or worthwhile.
It was, I found myself thinking, such a waste.
And then the world fell away from me.
38
I opened my eyes and stared dully at the carpet. It was a shade of red so bright that it actually hurt to look at it.
Or maybe that was just because everything hurt. God, my throat.
I closed my eyes again.
Scuffling sounds nearby.
‘You … you bastard.’
Choking. That sounded unpleasant, I thought. I should find out what was happening.
‘You were sleeping with her. Fucking her. How could you? How could you do that to me? To our family?’
Slowly, infinitely slowly, I put a face to the voice. Eleanor Norris. Which meant she was talking to her husband.
And the last time I’d seen him, he was killing me.
That was worth a look, I thought, knowing that I wasn’t thinking completely clearly. I could only deal with one thought at a time. Well, that would have to do. I leaned on my left elbow and pushed myself up with the other arm.
Eleanor Norris was kneeling on her husband’s back, hauling his head towards her with as much force as she could muster. A loop of black electrical cable from the sound system was pressing into the flesh of his neck, cutting off his air supply very effectively.
‘It was always me, wasn’t it? I was the problem. I was the one who needed to be taught lessons.’ She jerked on the cord and he choked again. ‘I wasn’t allowed to ask questions. Of course you knew better than me. You were my husband, the head of the family. You bastard. If only I’d known. I was never the problem. You were infertile, not me. You were weak, not me. You were unfaithful, not me. You made me feel as if I should be grateful to you for staying with me when I should have left you years ago.’ She punctuated every sentence with another tug on the cord and Oliver was in serious trouble now, his face purple, his lips turning blue. His eyes were bulging out of his head.
‘Eleanor,’ I said, or tried to. ‘Stop.’
‘Were you ever going to tell me the truth?’ She released the pressure for a second, waiting for an answer. Oliver took a couple of shuddering breaths before the cord tightened again. ‘You were going to torture me into telling you about our daughter, but you’ve been lying to me all along.’
‘Eleanor,’ I said again. ‘You have to stop. You’ll kill him.’
‘Were you in love with her? Were you? I don’t know if it’s worse if you were in love or not. If it was just sex, you’re pathetic. You’re pathetic anyway. Pathetic.’
I had managed to sit up but I was weak, trembling all over. ‘Eleanor. Think of Bethany. This isn’t what she’d want.’
‘Oh God, Bethany.’ She let the cord slacken again, her eyes screwed tight. ‘My poor little Bethany. What can I tell her? At least you’re not her real father, I suppose. That’s something. I’ve always felt guilty about sleeping with Morgan, but he’s twice the man you are.’ He jerked, almost dislodging her and she hauled on the cord again. ‘That’s right. Your brother. I let Morgan fuck me and Bethany is his child.’ She hesitated for a second, then added, ‘And he was better in bed than you.’
Oliver groaned; I couldn’t tell if it was anger or pain. I was still struggling to come to terms with what Eleanor had said. Morgan. His own brother.
It almost made me feel sorry for him.
‘I’ve waited years for this,’ Eleanor said. ‘Years for you to see what it’s like to be on the receiving end. This is what it’s like, Ollie. This is justice at long last.’
‘Not like this,’ I said. ‘Eleanor, not this. This is what he would do. You’re better than that – you said so yourself.’
‘This is what he deserves.’
‘This will get you put in prison for years and Bethany needs you. More than ever, she needs you.’
‘She hates me.’
‘You can explain it to her. You can make her understand that you did everything for the best. I’ll talk to her too. It’ll be all right, Eleanor, I promise.’ Unless you kill your husband in front of me, in which case everything will be a lot more complicated.
‘I love him,’ Eleanor Norris said to me as her husband choked under her. ‘I love him so much.’
‘I know.’ And I did.
It was as if anger was all that had been sustaining her. As it ebbed away, Eleanor crumpled. She let go of the cord and slipped off Oliver’s back to sit on the floor beside him. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, his stomach heaving as he gasped for air.