The WPC stops walking. ‘You okay, Mrs Jackson? You look a little shaken.’
‘I am, yes.’ For the first time since they started questioning me I’m telling the truth. Now I know James isn’t in the house or hiding in the garden I feel weak with relief.
‘We could stay with you, at least until a friend or relative joins you. Is there someone you’d like to ring?’
I shake my head. I need to get inside and look through Brian’s laptop. If Charlotte used it to urgently message someone, who knows what clues it might reveal.
‘No, thank you. I’ll be fine.’
‘Are you quite sure?’
‘Yes,’ I say with more conviction than I feel, ‘I’ll be okay. Thank you so much for coming out.’
The male officer nods curtly and opens the car door. ‘We’ll be in touch.’
My bravado disappears the second the police car crunches its way down the driveway and disappears around the corner. What if the police only poked their heads into each room and James is still hiding somewhere? He’ll have heard them leave and know I’m alone.
I look from the open porch door to the car. I could just go – jump back in with Milly and drive to my friend Jane’s house. I could tell her Brian and I had a row (which wouldn’t be far from the truth) and ask if I could stay for a couple of nights. But she and Eric have got two cats and I’d have to put Milly in kennels. Who else? Annette? No. I immediately discount her. She’s a terrible gossip. It would only take a matter of days, if not hours, for the news to spread that my marriage was in disarray. I cycle through the rest of my friends – Ellen doesn’t have the space, Amelia is knee deep in renovations and Mary is in Spain. The Travelodge just off the A22 takes dogs. All I need to do is pop into the house to grab the laptop and we can be there in under an hour.
I put my hand on Milly’s soft head and scratch behind her ear as I mentally rehearse my route through the house, making a list of what I’ll take from each room. The house isn’t safe anymore. I need to get in and out as quickly as I can.
‘Ready girl?’ I take a step towards the open porch door.
Every squeaky floorboard, rumbling pipe and creaking wall makes me start as I hurry from room to room, throwing open drawers, gathering up clothes and sweeping make-up and toiletries into a large floral overnight bag. Darting into the bathroom to collect my toothbrush terrifies me when I notice someone staring at me from the other side of the room, only to discover that Brian has left his shaving mirror angled towards the door and it’s my own reflection. Milly quickly tires of my frenetic pace and lies down in the middle of the hall and rests her head on her paws.
I leave Brian’s study for last and it’s only as I turn the handle that it strikes me that he might have taken his laptop with him when he left yesterday. I push the door open and peer into the room.
It’s on the desk, closed and unplugged with the lead coiled over the lid and the plug resting on the side like Brian was planning on taking it with him and then forgot. I scoop it up and then—
BANG!
The office door slams shut behind me.
I freeze, half bent over the desk with the laptop in my hands. Every fibre of my body is still, every hair erect. My heart slows to a steady thud-thud-thud as I listen.
Listen.
For the creak of a floorboard, the creak of a joint, or the low sound of a breath.
Listen.
Time slows and I have no idea how long I’ve been standing here, hunched over the desk, listening, waiting, dreading. My lower back aches, my hip bones hurt from where they’re pressing against the desk and the laptop is slipping from my sweaty fingers. If James is behind me I need to turn around and face my fate head on.
I turn slowly, the laptop still in my hands and brace myself.
But there’s no one else in the room.
I take a step towards the closed study door. What if he’s on the other side? I take another step forward, place my hand on the doorknob and then twist it sharply to the left. It moves easily under my hand and the door swings open. Milly raises her head from the floor and her tail thumps the wooden floor. There is no one else in the house. I’d know from her reaction if there was.
‘Hello girl,’ I take a step forward and stoop down to pat her head when,
BANG!
The study door slams behind me.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
This time from the bathroom. I run towards the sound. The window above the bath is open, slamming back and forth, a cold breeze filling the room. I glance outside, half expecting to see someone hanging from the ledge or sprinting across the lawn but the only movement in the garden is the willow tree, bowing and stretching in the wind. I lean out of the window, reach for the catch and yank it closed.
‘Come on, Milly.’ I hurry back out of the bathroom, grab the laptop and my overnight bag from where I left them in the hallway and speed down the stairs with the dog at my heels. I cast a quick look around the kitchen before I snatch up Milly’s food and water dishes and throw them into a plastic bag with a half full sack of dried dog food and then speed out of the house, locking the porch door behind me, and jump into the car. I don’t glance in the rear-view mirror as I pull away.
Saturday 4th January 1991
Thank God it’s the New Year. That might just have been the most depressing Christmas of my life.
James was really apologetic that he couldn’t invite me to spend Christmas with him and his mum but she was still smarting from ‘the incident’ (when we turned up to lunch drunk and late).
Last year I spent Christmas with Hels, Ru, Emma and Matt but I couldn’t see that happening this year.