I pulled into the drive and let Aiden out of the car. His steps were lighter since those precious moments of painting. Even the stiffness in his gait was improving. Though he still didn’t talk to me, I got the sense that he was starting to relax around me, which was real progress after what had happened with the police. When he walked, his shoulders were down, instead of hunched up. He was loosening up. He seemed taller, too, even though it had been barely a week since I’d first found out he was still alive. And, though there was little change in his demeanour, I had a feeling that he was beginning to relax around me, or maybe I was beginning to relax around him..
I waved to Denise, who was standing patiently outside the house for me to let her in. “Thought we could have a catch-up,” she said.
“Sure,” I replied. “Any news from the police station?”
“No,” she answered in what I felt was a clipped, sharp tone. Perhaps she was getting fed up of that question, or at least fed up of having to relay the same response.
After the bustle of Rob’s B&B, my house was quiet and still, so silent that when the floorboards creaked, I flinched. I took Aiden’s coat and hung it on the rack, shutting out the chill from the October wind. I had the newspapers tucked under one arm, and my handbag looped over the other. Once in the kitchen, I spread all the newspapers out over the table and opened them.
Denise pulled a stuffed bear out of a bag. “Do we want to keep this teddy?” she asked. “It came in with a bunch of fan mail. What do you reckon, Aiden?”
I glanced at my son, but he didn’t react to the stuffed bear with the glass eyes. It was a sweet toy, but far too young for him now that he’d grown up.
“Charity bag,” I said.
“Gotcha,” Denise replied.
“Where’s Marcus today?”
“He’s working at the station today. We felt you didn’t need us both around all the time anymore.”
“Ahh, I see. Aiden, why don’t you go watch some TV with Denise for a while.” I shifted my gaze to Denise. “Unless there was anything else you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Well…” she started.
“Nope, good then. Off you go!” I smiled as if there was nothing wrong as Aiden made his way out of the room and into the lounge.
“Everything all right?” Denise asked.
“Yes,” I lied.
She glanced at the newspapers but didn’t say anything more.
“I’ll leave you to your reading then.” The pointed look she gave me as she left the kitchen made me think that what she had really come to the house to do was deliver the bad news that my husband was not all he seemed. Or rather, to spy on us as a family to see if Jake was acting suspiciously since the news broke of his friendship with a student on Facebook.
As soon as the door was closed I began reading. And I didn’t stop reading until I heard Jake’s key in the door. During that time I read about all the supposed things that had happened to my son, things they didn’t even know for certain. He’d been taken as a ‘sex slave’ by a ‘sadistic paedophile’ and chained up in some sort of dungeon while I was out gadding about with a glass of Chardonnay in my hand. There was even a photograph of Jake and me on our honeymoon with fat grins on our faces. Then there were photographs of Rob, who had been branded a ‘thug’ by some local source. Jake was portrayed as the sketchy teacher with a dark past, who disappeared from his last school under a cloud of suspicion. They hinted at illicit affairs with underage schoolgirls.
The papers were careful not to accuse, but they knew what they were doing. They knew what they were suggesting. If my husband could stick his dick in a teenage girl, what else was he capable of? And my judgement was awful. I was pregnant again, remember? With a man whom they all considered some sort of sick paedo without any evidence to back it up, along with the fact my first boyfriend was apparently a thug, and I was out partying all the time anyway because I was ‘young’.
I slammed the papers shut as soon as I heard the door open.
“Anyone home? It’s quiet in here. Oh, hello, Aiden. Denise. You can turn the sound up you know. Go on, that’s it. Where’s your mum? Don’t worry, I’ll find her.” Jake gave me a limp wave as he stepped into the kitchen and set his briefcase on the table. “Sam Sutton finally handed in that homework I was telling you about. A week late, and he expects me to mark it. It’s ridiculous. I might go to the head. What’s going on, are you…?” Jake glanced down at the papers spread out on the table. “Ah.”
“Ah? Is that all you have to say?” I demanded. I opened and closed my fists by my side.
“I told you that you needed to read them,” he said, chastising me like a child. “You need to know what’s going on. You need to see the lies they’re spreading.”
There was the sound of a throat being cleared and Denise appeared in the doorway with her coat in her arms. “I’m going to head off for the day. Call if you need anything.”
My heart was pumping as I watched Denise leave the kitchen. I was waiting for that door to close so I could direct my attention back to Jake. “Lies like this?” I held up a picture of my husband with his arm around a teenage girl. “That’s not a lie, Jake. That’s an actual picture of you fondling some girl.”