‘This is James Evans.’ He puts a hand to my face and gently brushes the hair from my cheeks. ‘Charlotte and Ella’s business studies teacher. He’s the only James Evans in the school, Sue.’
‘But …’ I look from Brian to the young, blonde-haired man beside him and instantly realize my mistake. James Evans wouldn’t be blond anymore – not at forty-eight. ‘Oh God.’
I cover my face with my hands and close my eyes. What have I done?
‘The girls skived a school trip.’ I hear Brian say. ‘They were supposed to go to London with Mr Evans but—’
‘They called in on the day and said they had food poisoning. Said they’d been to Nandos together the night before and had some bad chicken and were up all night with dodgy stomachs. I had no reason not to believe them although, in retrospect, perhaps I should have called you to check.’
‘You should,’ says a voice I recognize as Mr Anderson.
‘The MSN conversation you read, Sue. They weren’t really scared that Mr Evans was going to kill them,’ Brian says. ‘It was just a figure of speech.’
I remove my hands from my face and look at the four faces hovering over me.
‘If they didn’t go on a school trip with Mr Evans that weekend,’ I say, ‘and they weren’t at home with us, where were they?’
Brian shakes his head. ‘We don’t know.’
Saturday 7th April 1991
I’ve been a mess all week. I haven’t been able to sew or sleep and I’ve barely eaten. Every time the phone’s rung I’ve jumped, certain it was James, terrified he’d found out what I was about to do. As it was he only rang me once this week – and then it was just a brief call mid-week to check where we were meeting on Friday.
I didn’t want to go. I kept telling myself James wasn’t that bad, that there were a lot of men out there who were worse than him but then, almost as if she could sense my resolve wavering, Hels called me at 5 p.m.
‘I’ll be there for you,’ she said. ‘We both will. Rupert and I will help you through this. Be strong, Susan. Remember all the times he’s made you cry.’
Typical then that James, sitting alone at a wooden table by the bar, jumped out of his seat the minute he spotted me walking into the Heart in Hand, wrapped me in his arms and told me how beautiful I looked. He was in a fantastic mood, buzzing about a television role he’d seen advertised in The Stage and apologizing profusely for not ringing me because he’d been so busy preparing for his audition.
‘It went well, really well,’ he said, squeezing my hands between his as we sat down, ‘and if I get this I’ll be able to afford somewhere big enough for you and I to live with a granny flat on the side for Mum. We’ll have our privacy and she’ll have the reassurance that I’m close by. And, and …’ he practically jumped out of his seat, ‘… you can have your own sewing room, maybe start up a business rather than do it for free for the Abberley lot. It’ll be perfect.’
We stayed in the pub – him gushing and fantasizing – me nodding and playing the supportive girlfriend for a good two hours until, unable to bear it a second longer I suggested we grab a takeaway and go back to mine. James was surprised, he’d expected to go on to a restaurant but I said I was tired and he acquiesced. The walk home was horrible. I was too preoccupied to talk and we lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, James glancing at me every couple of seconds while I avoided his eyes.
He wrapped his arms around me as I unlocked the front door and nuzzled his face into my neck.
‘Maybe coming home wasn’t such a bad idea after all. You just wanted to lure me into your bed didn’t you, you little minx?’
I stiffened at his touch and slipped out of his arms. He followed me into the kitchen and watched from the doorway as I opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine. I could feel his eyes boring into my back as I unscrewed the lid and poured myself a large glass.
‘Want one, James?’
He didn’t reply.
I put the bottle back in the fridge then, noticing how messy it had become, set about rearranging packets of ham, cartons of milk and half-empty tins of baked beans.
‘What are you doing?’ His voice cut through me .
I murmured something inane about a tidy fridge and a tidy mind, unwrapped the cling film from a chunk of cheese then rewrapped it, tighter, and placed it in the top drawer of the fridge door.
‘Sue, stop fucking about with the fridge and look at me.’
I turned slowly, my eyes fixed on the tiled floor.
‘Look at me.’
I tightened my grip on my glass of wine and forced my gaze upward. A jolt of fear flashed through me as our eyes met. There was no warmth in James’s eyes, no humour, no love. He was looking at me dispassionately like he’d never seen me before.
‘Let’s go through to the living room.’ My voice came out as a whisper. ‘We need to talk.’
James turned on his heel and left the kitchen. I followed behind, pausing in the corridor to gulp my wine as he disappeared into the living room. I’d barely taken a step through the door when a hand gripped my neck and I was shoved up against the wall.
‘I knew you’d cheat on me. You dirty little slut.’
‘James.’ The wine glass tumbled from my hand as my fingers flew to my neck. I pulled at his hand but he was too strong. ‘James, I can’t breathe.’
‘No one will ever love you as much as I do.’ His top lip was curled back, his nostrils flared. ‘No one.’
‘Please.’ I pulled at his hand again, my heels dancing against the skirting as I tried to find my footing. Only my toes were touching the floor. ‘Please, James. Please, you’re hurting me.’
‘Good.’ He pressed his face against mine, his breath hot against my cheek, his skin damp with sweat. ‘Because you’re hurting me.’