‘You must really hate him,’ Hannah said, her face reddening.
‘It’s not that.’ Her body tensed up. Only once had she considered telling anyone about what had happened, but she never wanted to tell her daughter – grown up or not. After Hannah was born, he’d become so much worse. The supermarket had been one of the only places she was allowed to enter alone. There, she’d seen a stand collecting money for the local women’s refuge. As she passed the money collectors on the way out, she’d hesitated. A woman stopped her and started to talk about the refuge. Gina remembered staring blankly at the woman, then thrusting a pound coin into her hand before scurrying off. The woman chased her out of the shop and pressed a card into her hand. Before she reached Terry’s car at the back of the car park, she let the card slip out of her hand. If he’d caught her with that—
‘There you go again, in your own little world, ignoring me. You can be so unreasonable sometimes. You don’t want this, but what about me? He was my father.’
‘I’m giving you the money, aren’t I? I’ll transfer it now.’ Gina pulled her phone from her pocket. In a matter of seconds, she’d sent six hundred pounds to her daughter. ‘Done.’
Hannah’s face was pink with anger as she grabbed her ponytail and pulled it tight in the bobble. She grabbed Gracie from Gina’s arms and proceeded with putting their coats on. ‘I don’t know what your problem is. We’re off. Maybe you can come and see us, when you have time. Oh wait. I’m busy for the next month or maybe two – or three. That should make it easier to schedule an hour in.’ Gina stood and helped Hannah feed Gracie’s arm into her sleeve. Hannah stepped away. ‘We manage fine without you. Oh, my job’s going well too and Greg’s had a promotion. It’s nice of you to ask.’
‘I was going to. Why don’t you stay? I’ve got some ice cream. We could talk or put some cartoons on—’
‘Another time, when you’re not in such a weird mood,’ Hannah said.
‘Me in a mood? I have my reasons for not wanting to do the things you demand of me, you know.’
Hannah stopped what she was doing and stood in silence, her stare boring into Gina’s eyes. ‘Tell me then.’
Gina opened her mouth to speak but no words escaped. She sneezed and pulled a crumpled tissue from her pocket. She swallowed, aggravating her sandpapery throat.
‘In that case, goodnight. And by the way, thanks for not letting on that you had a cold. You’ve probably given it to us now. And your milk’s off. Wouldn’t be surprised if I’m sick tonight.’ Hannah grabbed her changing bag and left, slamming the door behind her. Gina fell onto the settee and hugged a cushion. Ebony jumped up onto her lap. She hugged the cat and cried into her fur. But even the cat soon tired of her and jumped back down, scurrying into the kitchen and out of the cat flap.
She booted up her laptop and watched it whirring into action. An email pinged up. Jacob had uploaded the report. She read it, trying to absorb all the information, trying to put herself into Mrs McDonald’s mindset, trying to see it as she’d described.
Why couldn’t she tell Hannah? It would make her behaviour so much clearer. Shame still hung over her head like a heavy sack, threatening to cut off her oxygen supply. DI Gina Harte had once been a nobody, had once allowed a man to treat her that way. All the yes, Terrys, no, Terrys, whatever you want Terrys. It’s okay that you’ve broken my ribs, Terry, because you love me. It was my fault. She looked away. If she began to cry, her nose would be even stuffier than it already was. As she felt her ribs again, she thought of Debbie, out there somewhere – where? She grabbed her little laptop mouse and threw it at the fireplace. She knew what she’d gone through was nothing compared to Deborah’s ordeal. She couldn’t fail Debbie again. She’d failed four years ago. No more. She leaned across the floor and picked the mouse back up and placed it next to her laptop.
She walked through to the kitchen and grabbed the half bottle of red that was next to the sour milk in the fridge and began swigging from the bottle. Her phone beeped. Briggs had messaged.
‘Wine bar?’
She needed to talk about anything, to anyone. Her stomach flipped as she called him back. He answered after a couple of rings. ‘Gina.’
‘I don’t want to be alone tonight,’ she replied, wiping her tear-stained face.
‘Shall I bring the wine to you then?’
She could play his game too. She ended the call, knowing full well he’d turn up. What the hell was she doing? What were they doing? He was her DCI. She was lonely – no, she was slowly dying inside, being eaten up by the secrets that were invading her new life, secrets she’d tried to bury. She’d bury them tonight, at least, and worry about the consequences another day. She swigged the rest of the wine and stared at the window, waiting for Briggs to pull up, like some desperate schoolgirl hoping her date didn’t let her down. Needy little Gina. Terry had summed her up well.
Twenty-Two
Monday, 4 December 2017
He closed his eyes and gave up fighting the overwhelming urge to sleep. If he had another nightmare then so be it. Luke took a deep breath and welcomed the images that came to him.
As he drifted off into deeper slumber, Debbie was soon lying next to him in bed. He rubbed his eyes to get a clearer view then he stared at her in awe as she slept soundly. Her soft hair tangled in his fingers and her lily-scented moisturiser delighted his nostrils.
In his dream, the light from the moon outlined the shape of her face. Isobel began to coo in the next room. Slowly he turned and rolled out of bed.
He left the room and entered total darkness. Isobel’s cooing turned into screaming before hitting a piercing shriek. As he entered her room, he saw a beast. The huge shadow with red eyes bore deep into his mind. But it disappeared, gone in a flash. His heart pounded as he gazed at the crib. The crib was empty and hadn’t even been slept in. The bawling continued to sound through his head. ‘Isobel,’ he called.
‘Daddy,’ said Max in a distorted voice. Luke ran and ran, from one room to the next, searching. His heart beat like it was going to explode from his chest.
‘Debbie,’ he called. ‘Max.’
‘Daddy,’ the voice called back as it disappeared. Isobel shrieked louder. He ran faster. How had his house turned into a maze of dark concrete walls that all led to nowhere? Every turn he took led to another walled corridor. He ran until he reached his bedroom.
‘Luke?’ Debbie called. He ran and turned into his bedroom. The beast was upon her, suffocating her with his large body. Isobel was trying to feed from her breast, being crushed between the beast and his darling Debbie. The creature turned to him, fiery eyes glowing in the dark and rancid saliva dripping from its mouth, contaminating every part of Debbie. He watched as the beast enveloped his wife and they both disappeared, taking the suckling Isobel with them.
* * *
The latch on the back gate clicked back into place. Luke jolted up in bed, covered in sweat, his eyes wide open. His heartbeat was so erratic, he thought he might vomit. He turned on the lamp as he fought to get his breath back. Debbie wasn’t next to him, she never was. He listened in the dark as someone walked across his garden slabs before stopping outside the back door. The handle rattled.