Silent Child

“Rob, he’s my husband. I know him.”


“Those are the famous last words, aren’t they? ‘I know him. I love him.’ Don’t be that woman.”

I took in a deep, shaky breath. “And who’s to say you’re any better than him? You could be a monster too, for all I know. Everyone could be.”

I hung up.

“Are you okay, Emma?” Denise asked.

I wiped my eyes and nodded. Then I walked over to the window and opened the curtains an inch. The reporters were still there, waiting on the pavement outside the house. I hated them. They made me feel trapped inside my own home. With a flick of my wrist, the curtain was closed and I backed away. What was I going to do? Aiden sat on the sofa in our living room with his hands on his lap, watching the television. It was only when I turned around that I noticed the television was off. He’d been sat in silence watching nothing.

Though the heating was controlled by a thermostat, I still felt a chill creep up my spine, and I shivered. I thought of Rob’s words, not only about Jake, but also about Aiden and what he’d said about the kidnapper. Up until that moment I had been so sure Aiden would be terrified of the person who had stolen him from me. We knew Aiden had been chained, and we knew he had been abused. But what we didn’t know was what the abuser had said to him. Had he played mind games with my son? Had he spent the last ten years convincing Aiden that he was only person who loved him? What had they done to my little boy?

I couldn’t stand to be in the same room as my son. Not at that moment. I rushed out of the living room and hurried upstairs to lie down. But as I went into my bedroom and looked at the bed I shared with my husband, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Rob had said. I’d let him into my head, and a seed of doubt had been planted. Of course I’d seen wives in the press talking about how they’d had no idea their husband was a serial rapist, or a child molester, and, yes, there had been occasions when men had locked young girls or women up in a basement and sound-proofed it, living one life upstairs and another downstairs. But this was different. Ten years. How would that be possible? And wherever Aiden had been kept it was nowhere near Jake’s house. Jake would need to go to this hypothetical place every day, or at least every couple of days. But the only time Jake and I were apart was the adult learning art class he ran in York twice a week. He’d have no time.

The baby kicked me again and I rubbed my belly as I sank down onto the bed. My head was spinning with disparate thoughts. My ankles ached. My legs were tired. I knew that if I leaned back I would fall straight to sleep despite the stress of the day so far. But I didn’t do any of that. I picked up my phone and called the adult learning centre in York. I asked to book onto the Introduction to Art History course on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

“Absolutely. What name is it, please?”

“Amy Perry,” I lied.

“I should let you know that the usual tutor has taken some time off so we have a support tutor in place at the moment.”

“That’s okay. Who is the usual tutor?” I asked.

“Oh, sorry dear, I’m new and I don’t have that information to hand at the moment. We’re in the middle of changing our computer system and it’s all a little hectic here. But if you like I can arrange for a prospectus to be sent to you. It has the course information and contact details for your tutor.”

I agreed to have the prospectus sent straight away.





24


Jake tumbled into the house after hurrying away from the reporters. I watched him pull into the drive through a crack in the curtains, and he slammed the door so hard that I thought the glass panel might shatter. Aiden barely processed the loud noise, but Denise came hurrying through from the kitchen. I noticed she’d stayed later than usual. It was dark out and I had expected her to be on her way home by now.

“Fucking arseholes,” Jake exclaimed. “It’s bad enough I’m hounded by the police but now I have to be hounded by them, too.”

I bit my thumbnail as he came striding into the living room. His hair was dishevelled and his shirt was unbuttoned at the collar. His skin was flushed and his eyes were wide.

“Jake,” I said. “Not in front of Aiden.”

His eyes narrowed, but he glanced at Aiden before nodding.

“Are you all right?” I asked, aware of how stiff my voice sounded.

“Did you say anything to the reporters?” Denise asked.

Jake shook his head. “The fuckers wanted me to, but I didn’t give them the satisfaction. And, yes, I am all right, thanks for asking.”

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