‘Fine, call them,’ I huffed.
He picked up the phone. As he moved, a cloud of aftershave assaulted my nostrils. Notes of ginger, amber and citrus pushed me back, disgusted. Smells So Good…
‘Who do you think they’ll side with, James? A paedophile, or the mother of an innocent child who has been preyed on?’
He gave his name and address down the phone. I wasn’t worried, though.
‘You let me in, James. I knocked on the door, and you let me in. I’ve done nothing wrong.’
‘Please… she won’t leave. Just make her leave,’ he begged the operator.
‘They’ll arrest you when they get here. Not me.’
When he put the phone down, there was desperation and pleading in his eyes. ‘They’re on their way. Please, go. I swear to you I didn’t hurt Beth. I liked her—’
‘Yes, a bit too much.’
Time was running out. I needed a confession out of him before the police arrived, then I’d be able to pass to them what he had done. What could I do to make him tell me the truth?
Beat him senseless.
Turn his well-groomed face into mush.
Snip his penis off with a sharp pair of scissors and hear him scream and cry in agony.
Empty his precious aftershave all over his body, then set fire to him.
Desperation made the fantasies pound in my brain. My world was falling apart, and the only way to stop it was to find your attacker, Beth. James was the only person it could be, and I would be the one to make him face the truth. No matter what.
I snatched up his beloved Taylor acoustic guitar, holding it with both hands by the neck like a baseball bat.
‘You hurt my daughter. Now I’m going to hurt you.’
I stepped towards him. He stepped back.
‘Tell me the truth, or I’ll smash this over your head.’
I wasn’t sure how much damage the guitar would do. It was surprisingly light and well balanced, and felt expensive. Smashing it into matchsticks over James’s head might not do him loads of damage, but it would hurt him emotionally. He loved that bloody guitar.
Once it was gone, I’d move onto something else. Something heavier. Part of me screamed that I was acting like a crazy woman. The rest of me yelled back that doing whatever it took to uncover the truth was the only sane option.
‘I didn’t—’
‘How long were you grooming her?’
‘Listen, please—’
‘The diary isn’t graphic, but she loved you, you sick bastard. She thought you were going to marry her! What did you do to her?’
‘Nothing! I… I wouldn’t! I’d never… !’
Everything about him pleaded with me, trying to keep me at bay. His body hunched, hands stretching towards me, fingers spread. Those fingers which had caressed my little girl.
I’d break them to get a confession.
‘Tell me!’
I lifted the guitar high over my head. Slammed it on the ground. James gave a horrified gasp. I hefted it again, destruction making me smile in satisfaction. The splintered wreck crackled and crunched beneath my feet as I jumped up and down.
‘I mean business, James. That’s all that’ll be left of you if you don’t confess.’
I grabbed a glass vase, its thick bottom giving it impressive weight.
‘This will crack your skull.’
‘Please, no! She – I didn’t – we shouldn’t—’
‘What did you make her do to you?’ My voice was a horrified moan. The vase sagged towards the floor for a moment. But then I raised it higher. Up above my head, ready to smash in the brains of this man, just as he had smashed my daughter’s head.
‘I’ll kill you, you bastard! Confess—’
‘I’m gay!’
His scream was barely heard above the crashing sound.
Forty-Nine
The crashing bang on the front door came again.
‘Police! Open up!’
James, still half-crouched, was braced for my blow. I lowered the vase slightly.
‘You’re gay? You’re lying…’
His eyes didn’t leave mine as he called out. ‘I’m fine, we’re fine. The door is open, so let yourself in.’
He made a lowering gesture with his outstretched hands. ‘Put the vase down, or they’ll arrest you.’
Confused, I found myself doing as I was told. The two officers who walked in could immediately sense the tension in the room, though.
‘What’s going on?’ one asked. I’d seen him before, and he nodded at me. ‘Mrs Oak, is everything okay?’
James jumped in. ‘Mrs Oak came round for a chat, but now we’ve cleared the air, haven’t we?’
‘No, it’s not cleared up. If you’re gay, what’s the deal with your alibi with Alison? Why did you both lie?’
‘I really would like you to leave now, though,’ James talked over me.
The anger flared back again. ‘Who are you, to tell me what to do? To tell me lies?’
I wielded the vase again. The stocky officer who had recognised me stepped between us, his body a wall.
‘He’s just told me he’s gay. If he’s gay, why did he and Alison Daughtrey-Drew—’
‘I didn’t say any such thing,’ James laughed. ‘I’m not gay. I’m not gay.’
‘Oh my God, you’d say anything, wouldn’t you? Anything to make sure I don’t hit you!’ I lunged forward, but the stocky officer moved with me, blocking me effortlessly.
‘That bastard groomed my daughter, then tried to kill her. Why am I the only one who can see it?’ I screamed in frustration.
The officer kept his eyes on me, his expression sympathetic.
‘It would be wise if you left,’ he said in a low, firm voice, as if speaking to me confidentially. Leaning in so that I got a good look at the painful red razor rash on his neck and the yellow-headed spots it had caused. ‘I don’t want to have to make you. Not after everything you’ve been through. But…’
But he’d have to if I didn’t do as I was told. The implication was clear.
I hesitated, thinking. I might still be able to smash the vase over that conniving, slimy bastard’s head before the officers had time to react. It probably wouldn’t do any permanent damage, though, and would almost certainly end with me jailed. Which wasn’t so bad, but I wouldn’t be able to see you, Beth.
Better to retreat and fight another day. I’d see James went down for what he had done.
For a few minutes I drove aimlessly, unsure of what to do, where to go. I headed down Low Road, a long, straight but incredibly narrow lane that locals tend to floor their cars on, even though the surface is rutted. On either side are dykes deep enough to be lethal if a car careered into them. I put my foot down, not caring if I lived or died.
Wanting the questions whirling around my head to slow.
Wanting peace.
Wanting to go back in time so that this had never happened and you were still my lively, gorgeous little girl, jumping out at me to say boo, or telling me a new fact you had just learned about some animal or other.
40 mph… 50 mph… 60 mph…