Cornwall 2016
As we clear away dinner plates I find myself gazing out of the window, over towards the holly shrub. It’s grown. Jack and I planted it the day we moved in, such a deep hole I’d needed to dig. The holly shrub, my nan once told me, is a symbol of defence. Ironically, the woody stem is sometimes also used to make chess pieces. My dad taught me to play chess. I never did realise just how important this would prove to be.
I feel a little more human for eating, and for discreetly searching the house when we first got back. I must have left the light on – nothing seems amiss. We move to the comfort of the front room, the warmth of the glowing log fire. Jack leaves us and jumps the stairs three at a time. I still hold my breath. Seconds later, he returns for his mobile abandoned on the kitchen table, crisis averted for the reunion. Our stairs are so shallow and crooked, I wait for the thud of his fall. Then the smooth hums of music feeds down through aged floorboards.
Bea sighs heavily. ‘He’s such a gorgeous lad. I could eat him all up. You’re so lucky, Eve. He’s a real lad, but has that lovely sensitive side to him too.’ She squeezes my shoulder in passing. ‘He loves you to bits,’ she says, slumping herself deep into feather cushions. ‘Can you imagine, being on your own with him, if he was a little git? My brother was. So bloody annoying. We’re okay now, though. I suppose, he’s not so bad. Funny how life changes how you see people.’
She turns to look at Ruan, who has thrown his head back and closed his eyes, stretched out like a contented cat. She nudges his supporting arm away, jolting him back to the moment. ‘Do you get on with your sisters, Ru? I don’t know why, I always think of you being close. But you never really can tell, can you?’
You have no idea, Bea.
‘Are you asking or telling me, Bea? As in, d’you want me to add to your running conversation or are you happy going it alone?’ Playfully slapping her leg.
‘Cheeky! I’m asking you, of course. Just wasn’t sure you were still in the room with us. What with the snoring.’
‘Get shot, I so wasn’t snoring.’ He shrugs, sitting up.
‘And dribbling.’ She raises her eyebrows at him. ‘So, do you get on with them?’
‘Yeah, guess so. We still have our moments. Any more beers in the fridge, Eve?’ He stands up at the same time, making his way to the kitchen. He knows I have.
‘Help yourself.’ You’re probably going to need it with what I’m about to divulge.
He’s already opening the fridge door. ‘Anyone else while I’m here?’ he calls out. ‘Mmm, cake, nice one, don’t mind if I do,’ he chatters away. ‘What’s this cake, Eve? Is it edible?’
‘Course. Home-made. Apple and cinnamon or something like that, I think it is. Gloria made it the other day, popped it round while I was at work. I’d forgotten about it. It will be good, try it.’
‘Proper job! Anyone else?’ he calls.
‘God, no, thanks.’ I couldn’t stomach any more food; my gut is already twisting and turning, bound in a tight knot.
‘Yeah, I’ll have some. Make sure my piece is bigger than yours. I’ll be checking.’ Bea taps her stomach in anticipation.
We make idle chat, delaying and putting off the very point of my two closest friends being here. I’m worried my past is about to dirty my present, soiling its purity and changing it forever. I jump up and pad to the bottom of the stairs. From here I can just make out if Jack’s bedroom door is still closed. It is. I return to the warm shadows of my sanctuary, wary of my quickening heart rate. I open my mouth like some kind of gulping monkfish but nothing comes out. The room takes on an icy chill, yet the fire still burns.
Ruan wanders back, balancing plates, while he samples a forkful of cake.
‘Okay, you two, so this is what you’ve been patiently waiting for, the juicy gossip.’ They glance at each other. ‘It’s fine. I can understand where you’re coming from.’
‘No one understands where Bea’s coming from – even she doesn’t get that,’ Ruan interrupts. Bea slaps his leg, scowling at him.
‘Go on,’ she urges me.
‘Can I just say, despite my flippancy, this really is so tough, I can’t possibly relay how badly I didn’t want to discuss my past? I or we, me and Jack, needed desperately to move on, to push it all to the backs of our minds. But obviously, I no longer have the choice. Poor Jack, he’s already been through the unthinkable.’ Neither Bea nor Ruan move or speak, both studying me with despondent eyes. Whilst I appreciate the care, the sympathy hurts all the more.
‘I’ve been silly not to have explained before now. Selfish, I guess, too.’ Even so, as I prepare to disclose I’m only too aware of how skimpy with the details I propose to be. No more lying, just withholding details; especially the darkest ones, the depth of my pain with it. Unsure who I’m protecting – them or me? It could alter their perception of me, forever. How would I cope with this?
‘Even Jack hasn’t spoken much on the subject, since we arrived in Cornwall. It was supposed to be a clean break. I hope you can both understand. On a daily basis, I see, behind the eyes, the damage our past has done to Jack.’ Sometimes he reacts to situations, people, in a certain manner, slightly out of context, but I understand why. But does he? Although I’ve always reassured him he can talk, he hasn’t. ‘He’s needed the time to heal and grow.’ The memories will always be lodged deep in the emotional brain; anticipating, lingering just in case. Filed away like a ghastly nightmare. As if it were a disturbing horror film we’ve shared, since then we’ve striven hard to distort the images, sounds and words. A temporary façade, a sleeping monster. Smaug.
‘Oh, Eve, has it really been so awful for you both?’ Bea breathes out.
‘To be honest, I’m not even sure where to begin. I can’t quite find the words.’ I turn my attention to the amber flames of the fire, reaching high up the chimney. ‘Perhaps, if I begin with the end, the last time I saw Jack’s…’ The word glues itself to the back of my throat. But it’s who you are.
Bea bails me out. ‘Him, Eve, him. We know who you mean. Go on.’
I nod. ‘You must have thought it odd, I won’t have him mentioned or named. You don’t need to answer that, by the way, I know. I see it in your eyes.’ They both nod. ‘The thing is, we didn’t simply part company. Things happened.’ I’m trying to get to that last night we saw you, but my words seem so small in comparison.
‘I must stipulate, it was anything but a normal relationship, ever. I speak on both our behalves. It was vile. He was, is, vile. The calculating, unscrupulous rule of his rendered our lives hell. He was also cunning, powerful, exceptionally shrewd and an engineered social god. Eventually, he did leave, but not in the fashion you suppose he did, or in the way I’ve expressed. To be honest, if I dare use the phrase, the fine detail here isn’t necessary. It would take too long to substantiate, for one thing. Nor am I up to it.’ Here I go again, shut-door policy. Although I may now benefit from some support, as I did last night, ultimately I’m alone with this. You. I’m also far too ashamed to entirely divulge.
The room is quiet except for the crackle of the fire and the hum of Jack’s music. Am I betraying him all over again? He should be down here, involved in this conversation, but I don’t want him to be. I cannot contemplate yet another embezzled night for him because of you, bastard of a so-called father. I want to leave him in blissful ignorance, for all I can.
‘Did he hurt you, Eve?’ Bea softly enquired.
‘I’m not sure hurt pays it justice. This is the problem – anything I relay to you can’t possibly do it justice. Not when you’re existing as we did seven days a week.’
‘No, of course not. I understand.’
I know she’s being kind, but those last words are the precise ones to shut the door. How can anyone understand unless they’ve been in a comparable situation? I smile at her; she’s sincere in her concern. I am grateful for this.
‘There’s no simple way of saying this.’ I look at Ruan, who has finished his cake, now removing the remains of imaginary crumbs from his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘So, the last time we saw him. We were already divorced, had been for some time. Dragged through the family courts, the financial courts, you name it.’ I shake my head. ‘Another story. Then, out of the blue, one night, he turned up at our house, forced us into his car.’ I see Bea open her lips to speak but I press on. I need to spit this out. ‘Things happened, he crashed the car. Then vanished,’ I splutter. It’s out, the first time I have ever articulated this story. Done. I take a long breath in, filling my lungs with resigned air.
Ruan sits forward, rubbing his forehead. ‘He crashed the car?’
I nod. ‘Left us for dead.’
‘He left you for dead? Jack’s dad did? What, on purpose?’ Bea struggles.
The expression on Bea’s face smacks of reality. How have we lived alone with this for so long? ‘Jack’s father, yes, Bea. Crashed the car then left us. Ran off into the night. We were badly hurt and alone.’ I taste metallic terror as the memories of the night flash at high speed through my mind, a train pummelling tracks through a Tube station. Blurred images everywhere. I’ve opened one of the doors, now the flashbacks pick up pace, as the smell of burning rubber, the sound of screeching tyres hammers at my consciousness. My chest tightens; I fight to breathe. Someone is sitting on my chest. I breathe out but cannot breathe in, my torso constricts with the grip of the seat belt. Tighter and tighter. The oxygen leaves my head as it floats away with the images. I’m struggling. Drowning, submerged under deep icy water. Shivering.
Breathe. Breathe. In through the nose. Five. Out through the nose. Seven. Count, for God’s sake.
‘Eve?’ A low and distant mottled voice calls. Bea’s voice. But it’s so distant. ‘Eve?’
Heat everywhere. I’m burning now, on fire. I try to stand; if I get myself moving, I can break the hold of panic. A soft hand takes mine. ‘Sit back down, Eve,’ she gently advises. But I need to walk. I clamber through to the kitchen, open the back door; the cold air slaps my face. Leaning in the doorway, I begin to slow my breathing. I stand in silence for a while, looking out into the dark. Are you there? Smirking, high on my low? I slam the door, treading back the few steps until I’m back in the front room. Safe. But for how long?
Ruan kneels down in front of me clutching a glass of water, offering it to my lips, as if I’m a small child. And that’s how I feel. Again.
‘Thank you.’ I take a grateful sip. Silence. ‘That was the last time we saw him.’
‘Eve?’ Bea shakes her head. ‘Sorry, nothing,’ she says.
‘It’s okay, Bea. What were you going to ask me?’
‘You said he forced you, so he took you against your will? So he what – kidnapped you? Then there was a car accident?’ probes Bea.
‘Not an accident. I meant what I said – he crashed the car. I can’t be completely sure he intended to kill us, but my heart tells me he did. But, yes, he took us against our will. Call it what you like.’
‘Oh my God, Eve! Did you go to the police? That’s kidnapping.’
‘I didn’t go to the police, no. For several reasons. I’ll get to why, soon. Also, I did get into the car of my own accord, but only because I had to.’ This is what happens, and another reason I couldn’t go to the police. When you only speak in half-truths for self-protection, other issues, such as why I couldn’t go to the police, look odd. To go to the police after three years and report an abusive marriage, having attended public events, apparently lived an entirely carefree and normal life, without so much as a mention, is somewhat discrediting. Once you begin to lie, the truth will never look the same again.
Ruan catches up. ‘What a t—’
‘What happened to him, after the crash?’ interrupts Bea.
‘No one knows.’ I roll back to be caught by my comfortable sofa, curling my legs up tightly under me. Shit, what have I done? ‘I should have told you before. I’ve been so selfish. I didn’t mean to be.’
Ruan jumps up. ‘I’ll grab a bottle and some glasses.’ We don’t put up a fight. Bea makes herself comfortable, now sitting in front of me on the floor, perched on an oversized cushion. Ruan saunters back from the kitchen with his incongruent playful yet comforting smile. He offers me a glass full to spilling. I take a hefty slurp and gulp. He then lavishly fills the other two glasses. ‘I don’t care what you say, this is the answer to this kind of shit,’ he says.
‘Steady on, Ru, I can only have a sip. It’s okay for you, I’ve to drive later. Or, I suppose, I could get Matt to pick me up, get hammered instead.’ I can tell this is an appealing consideration for her. To be honest she looks as if she needs it more than I do. She leans forward to look me in the eyes. ‘You’re such a funny one, Eve. Why, oh, why haven’t you told us before? Actually, second thoughts, silly question. You’re such a flipping private person, aren’t you? You’d never have told us, would you? Unless…’ She pauses.
‘Unless what?’ Ruan helps out, slopping back on the sofa, the bounce spilling my wine.
‘Unless you’ve a damn good reason to. Unless you thought you had to.’
‘I…’
‘I’m not upset with you. It’s just you, isn’t it? How you are, my lovely. But come on, you have to let us help you now. Whatever it is. I mean, it’s over now, isn’t it? It can hardly get any worse, can it?’ Her thoughtful accent offers warmth. I gladly accept and hold on tight. But deep down I twist with the knowledge, despite her or their genuine intentions, they cannot possibly help us. This is something I need to do alone. And despite her beliefs, it can very easily get worse.
For one thing: if you did intend to kill us, you haven’t yet achieved it.
We’re silent for a moment, Bea and Ruan both waiting for me to spill more. Me wondering how much more I need to reveal; how much I can leave behind. Bumper to bumper, the words ricochet up in my throat. Colliding with one another. I need someone to push me. I’m back in clinic with divided thoughts; those I’m thinking and those I need to articulate. Occasionally leaving behind the truth. Delivering only what is required.
Ruan breaks the silence, his face holding the frown of a small child. ‘I don’t get it. I mean, I know some people have crap marriages, relationships… whatever. But why would someone want to kill their partner, husband, wife… whatever; why not just walk away?’
Good question. ‘I’ll come to this, Ruan; sorry for the cliché, but it’s complicated. All I’ll say is, Jack’s father is a white-collar psychopath, so normal rules, behaviours and such do not apply. Come on, Ruan, you know this – they don’t accept failure, are incapable of accepting responsibility and they never, ever give in. The word no doesn’t exist in their vocabulary, unless they’re the ones utilising it. It’s textbook.’
‘Yeah, now you say, I’ve read about this stuff, I think. It’s pretty interesting, isn’t it?’
Bea gives him a shut-it glare.
‘Shit, sorry, Eve. Wasn’t thinking. I meant, it’s interesting to read about; not so good if you’re living it though – eh?’ He smiles at me.
‘Don’t worry, it is fascinating, if you’re looking in on it, rather than locked into it.’
‘So, can you expand? Because, I’ve got to tell you, I don’t get it, at all. The hows or whys. Psychopath or not,’ says Bea.
I take a long swig of tepid wine. ‘To cut a ridiculously hideous long story stupidly short, that last night he arrived unannounced at our home, reeking of alcohol. Like I said, we were divorced, and after our stint in the rental flat, we moved to a cottage outside of the town. He took me and Jack in his car. Let’s just say, he had an agenda, we didn’t have a choice in this. But it didn’t go to plan; then his driving became scarily dangerous. The conditions were horrendous. The car left the road. The police later reported we may have skidded off the road. Perhaps this is why after a while they quit searching for him. They didn’t appreciate the truth. And I was too afraid to tell them.’
‘Why?’ asks Bea.
‘Because how could it be proven, especially with those road conditions? It would have been my word against his, a professional man. I could have used the fact he was over the limit but… oh, I don’t know, at the time I was, I guess, too scared of any recriminations. Extra recriminations. And a part of me hoped he had run and would keep running. A part of me prayed he was dead. I was too afraid to move, either way, afraid of him, afraid of going to the police. I didn’t have anyone to turn to for rational advice. It was just me and Jack and if there was a chance he was gone…’
‘You took it,’ says Ruan.
I nod. ‘But it wasn’t an accident. He drove us into the tree – I’m as certain as I can be. I woke up in the ambulance, with Jack in the one behind. The police advised me the driver was nowhere to be found by the time they arrived. How he wasn’t badly hurt too I’ll never know, or perhaps he was, we don’t know. He left us with some nasty injuries – me and Jack were both knocked out for a little while. Jack can’t really remember anything. He says it’s as if he has missing fragments of information, a temporary black screen. Thank God.’
‘Jesus, Eve. I’d no idea.’ Ruan leans forward, rubbing his hands through his hair before throwing himself back against the cushions again.
‘I can’t believe all this happened, yet neither of you have ever mentioned it.’ Bea swallows a mouthful of wine.
‘Jack was so young, Bea; just a little boy. It was a few years before we relocated to Cornwall. It’s not the kind of thing you drop into conversation. Then, as time goes on, you manage to push it away to a point. It’s not something you choose to recall at will.’
Bea nods.
‘So where could the bastard have gone?’ asks Ruan.
‘We don’t know. For a while, I told myself he’d wandered off hurt, died somewhere. We were in the middle of nowhere, incredibly wooded. But then, after some time when the police searches didn’t unearth anything, I had to accept he had literally crawled away somewhere. That he was still out there, in hiding.’ I find myself staring out towards the front window into the darkness. Could be anywhere, watching us.
‘What about his job, I assume he had one?’ Bea asks. ‘Did he abandon that too?’
‘He did, a good one. He was a solicitor, a partner, never quite made senior partner.’ This was my fault, in your sick eyes, wasn’t it? ‘But that’s another convoluted story. For now, all I’ll say is his days were numbered. His reputation shredded, the other reason why I think he disappeared into hiding.’ This slice of the story is irrelevant to what Bea and Ruan need to know. Not even Jack knows; I don’t think he does anyway, although he did ask an odd question the other day. Something about corporate fraud cases, whether the crimes carried prison sentences. Apparently, it was a debate they were having at school. The problem is, I’ve become so suspicious of seemingly ordinary questions, normal conversations, I’m continually searching for hidden agendas.
‘So, are you saying, he may have tried to kill you both because he lost his job?’ I can tell Bea is struggling with the concept of you.
‘It’s considerably more complicated, unfortunately. Remember what I said about the psychopath: failure and responsibility are simply not possible. Around the same time things began to fall apart in his professional life, our marriage, if you can call it that, collapsed too.’ I’d planned to see you settled in your senior-partnership role, to leave by the back door, escape to Spain to live with my parents. You should have been happy with your lot… you could have blamed the whole marital split on me. People would even have felt sorry for you. But you had to ruin things, didn’t you? Greed. Power. You didn’t need to do it. ‘He knew his practising days; his intended recognitions and promotions were in jeopardy. Not long before this time, we’d trawled the courts, battling over Jack. Him wanting ownership, me wanting to protect him. I knew who he was, what he was capable of… but the courts only ever saw a professional man. They didn’t understand his status was about to be called into disrepute. Eventually, the decree absolute was granted and…’
‘And he’d lost everything. Was devastated about losing you and Jack.’ Bea nods.
‘No, Bea. No. He hated me for saying no to him. He blamed me for his professional demise too. He’d failed on both counts; he needed to hurt someone, me.’ I can’t afford to reveal any more. It’s like trying to write a synopsis for the bible.
‘God, he’s one messed-up guy,’ she tells me, though putting it far more politely than I would. Ruan leans forward, then again collapses back into the cushion, clearly uncomfortable.
‘The thing is, from my perspective, that night was merely the final episode. The tip of the iceberg from the many years before. It’s one of the reasons I don’t talk about it, because, as you just were, Bea, people are horrified, yet I have to believe it was… simply a shit period of my life. Something I don’t think people can appreciate is, to us it had to become normal living, to act as a protective anti-trauma ruse. It’s the only reason we remained sane.’ I notice the rising of Ruan’s eyebrows as he half smiles at me. ‘Well, kind of sane, anyway,’ I add.
‘But you told me things hadn’t worked out, and in the end he’d gone to live abroad, that was the end of that. He didn’t want anything to do with Jack. Never sent any cards or tried to call, anything. End of?’
‘Yes, I know I did. Please believe, I’m truly sorry I lied to you. I see now, it was a mistake, but at the time I believed I was doing the right thing.’
Bea nods solemnly at me. I do feel bad but how do you ever bring this kind of background into new and normal conversations? What was I supposed to say?
‘I’m sorry to you too, Ruan.’ I squeeze his leg, now sprawled all over my side of the sofa.
‘It’s okay,’ soothes Ruan. ‘It’s really not the kinda thing you want to drop into conversation. I get why you had to almost pretend it didn’t happen. But, Jesus, poor Jack. Bloody hell.’
Bea’s eyes fill with tears. ‘Poor little thing, how come he’s so lovely?’
‘I know. It literally eats away at me. Every day.’ It still hurts, more than I can ever express. ‘I think I’ll carry the pain and guilt with me for the rest of my life. In the end I couldn’t completely protect him. As a mum, it’s a daily torture.’
‘I bet.’ Bea nods. ‘So, if you don’t know what happened after the car incident, he could be anywhere now. I mean, he could be here in Cornwall.’
I nod. As the years have gone on, it’s all become muddied. I struggle to distinguish between what I remember, what I’ve been informed of and what I’ve since dreamt or had nightmares about. I’m about as reliable as an eyewitness to a crime scene sometime after the event. The mind fills in blanks and confuses, becomes highly suggestible. I’ve never said anything but I’m also as sure as I can be we were not alone that night, on the road. Someone was following us. Two shards of light, spearing the dashboard from behind. But after the blackout, can I even be certain of that?
‘How badly hurt were you?’ Ruan asks. ‘After the…’ he waves his finger ‘… you know.’
‘I woke in the ambulance, my head pounding. I’d several facial cuts and—’ I lift a section of my hair up, about an inch below my middle parting ‘—a nice little gash. A few broken ribs from the side airbag. The front airbag didn’t release; it had been disabled. His released though. Concussion, and a serious case of whiplash. We were both lucky apparently. The terrain broke the speed, before impact.’ You knew what you were doing, didn’t you?
A high-pitched whistling and a swoosh of the shrubbery against the front window makes us jump. It’s so dark outside, and blustery as the coastal wind approaches a crescendo. I can’t see beyond the shadows and the promise of a new moon.
‘The wind’s picking up again – think we might be in for another stormy night,’ Ruan comments in an exaggerated Cornish accent. Bea glowers at him. ‘Sorry, Evie, go on.’
‘I remember coming to. It was like a reverse plughole effect, images circling me so rapidly as my head spun. I panicked because I didn’t know where Jack was, then apparently became hysterical, screaming out his name. Then it was black again. When I came back to, they told me Jack was fine, remarkably unhurt but in shock. He also had minor impact injuries from the side airbag. He was in the ambulance behind as they needed to take him in for observation.’
‘But he’d gone,’ clarifies Bea.
‘Yep. He’d gone by the time the ambulances arrived.’
‘Who called for the ambulance, then?’ Ruan presses.
‘I don’t know. The police said it was a woman, said she’d discovered us but she’d left before the emergency services arrived. We’re not sure who it was. They couldn’t trace the mobile number either. It was a pay as you go; it didn’t lead to anyone.’ Both Ruan and Bea nod. ‘He conveniently seemed to disappear off the face of the earth. I didn’t hear anything, until I received an odd phone call a few years later, a man’s voice, advising me he was living abroad somewhere. Somewhere being Spain, then he hung up. I don’t know who that guy was either.’
‘Bizarre. But why? Why would he do that? Why move to Spain?’ Bea asks.
‘Oh, Bea, it’s so convoluted. For the moment, please can we leave it at my ex-husband, Jack’s father, was a manipulative, cruel machine? Made our lives hell, then things started to go wrong for him. He slipped, while I grew stronger; he knew it too. He lost control, before I was ready.’
‘Ready for what?’ interrupts Ruan.
‘My plan. Years of planning our escape. Jack and me needed closure, not this. Always trying to forget, always hiding from our imaginations, from thinking the worst, watching the shadows, listening for noises. Sleeping with my car keys and mobile phone. Always wondering when, always waiting. I didn’t get the chance to put my plan into place. We’ve not been allowed to break entirely free. He was supposed to be content with the life he made, a successful partner, to become senior partner; Jack and I would have stood a chance to escape. It wasn’t supposed to end this way.’ It hasn’t ended, has it?
I’m drained and exhausted and it’s only just beginning.
‘But it still seems so bloody unreal, to want to kill you both?’ Bea continues.
‘Bea, please don’t try and make sense of this. Rational behaviour is not relevant here, so rational reasoning will get you nowhere. Like I said, I don’t know for sure he did. He may have only wanted to teach us a lesson, to hurt us, scar us. If we were dead, he wouldn’t get to see the results, we wouldn’t pay for our mistakes, so I’m not convinced he did intend to kill us, just that he meant for us to crash. Though, as the front airbag had been disabled and he abandoned us, if someone hadn’t called 999, we or at least I could have been in trouble from the amount of blood loss. And it was cold, so, so cold too.’
I also had his flash-drive, whipped last minute from his laptop in his study, but that’s remaining my secret. Our secret. It may once have been reason enough to keep me alive that night. But now? I’m not so sure. You know I have it, don’t you? But why now, why is it only now you’ve come looking for it? Or is it something else? Is this simply twisted revenge?
‘Lucky, he didn’t take Jack with him,’ adds Ruan.
‘No. It wasn’t luck, he didn’t want Jack. Jack was an asset for the future. He only wanted Jack because I needed Jack. Jack was his only real power over me. If I’d died, he’d have been stuck with him. Wherever he went, wherever he was going, he knew he couldn’t take Jack. Jack was nothing more than another one of his tools.’ This is what I hate you most for.
‘But why did you stay with such a lunatic, Evie? Why didn’t you leave him before then?’ Here we go. It’s a reasonable question but it can’t possibly be answered in a reductionist manner.
‘Exactly, why? I ask myself the same every day. Because hindsight makes me ask it. But context always wins the day, always. I didn’t leave because I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.’ I can feel myself becoming defensive.
Bea’s not being judgmental; this must seem so very far-fetched. The strange thing is, it does to me too, or it did until a few weeks ago, before it was brought abruptly back into my life. A horrible thought hits me: I may know who the articles in the envelope were sent by, but not who put them into my briefcase? I assumed nobody had been in the house because the back door was locked when I checked but what if I’m wrong? If someone else has been in our home, have you too? Technically, you could have come through an unlocked back door, locked it, then left through the front door – it has a dead lock. I feel sick. Have you been in our home?
I feel them both silently eyeballing me. ‘Sorry, Bea, I didn’t mean to snap at you.’
‘It’s fine,’ she graces me. ‘I just feel awful. I didn’t know any of this.’ She leans forward and touches my hand.
‘You have nothing to feel bad about, please. How could you have possibly guessed?’ Bea is still looking at me with a mixture of shock and sadness. ‘You know, I sometimes wonder if he intended for Jack to die; for me to survive and for Jack to die. He knew it would be my ultimate punishment; the only actual means of destroying me.’
They look at me with horror etched across their faces. ‘It’s so hard for any normal person to compute the workings of the mind of a psychopath. I mean, why would anyone kill their son to punish their ex-wife, how sick? I, on the other hand, identify; I’ve learned all too well we are all merely pawns on a chessboard to men like him. Used and sacrificed as needed to achieve an end. It’s easier for me. Over the years I’ve needed to learn, to think and dissect in his terms. Kind of mechanical. To be honest, the fact I can do it so successfully frightens me.’ Does this mean I can never be normal again? Can I ever truly unlearn the rules of chess?
‘Jesus Christ.’ Bea sighs out.
We sit in silence for a couple of minutes. ‘Ruan, would you chuck a log on the fire, please? I’m feeling a little chilly.’
‘Sure.’ He jumps up to poke around with the fire. It must be a man thing; I only asked him to put a log on it.
‘Eve?’ Bea pauses, and something tells me I’m not going to like what she’s about to ask. ‘Why did you get in the car that night, you and Jack? If you knew he was so horrible, why get into the car with him?’
I think about this for a while, not because I don’t know the answer, but because it’s difficult to answer without sounding like a complete idiot. Who willingly gets into a car with a psychopathic ex-husband looking for revenge on a dark stormy night? How could I have been so context blind? I witness these incidents on the news and think to myself, well, what did you expect? How did you not see it coming? What made you suddenly become so stupid? How do I answer without giving away anything I need to withhold? I trust them but, when the lives of Jack and me are the very things at stake, I can’t afford to trust anyone completely. Has this not always been the case with my story? It’s not what you see, it’s what you don’t see. It’s not what you know, it’s what you don’t know.
We think we know the truth; what we saw, what we believed. But the truth is, our perceptions have been so contaminated by our past, can we trust our original observations and decisions? I was desperate. I wanted a way to end the living hell. So I watched and learned and gathered the evidence. But there are gaps in my evidence. Not to mention cracks in my moral conscience. It all seemed to make sense back then.
I hate hindsight.
‘I didn’t have any choice, Bea. I had to get in the car because he had Jack.’ He had Jack because he was using him as a bargaining tool for the flash-drive I could never let him have; our freedom depended on it. Or did it? I’m not so sure any more.
As I swill the blackberry liquid around my glass, I’m startled out of my skin by a loud thud at the front door. Spilling the juices down my front. Bea follows suit, choking on her mouthful, spraying my legs with the remnants. None of us move. The letter box opens as a large brown envelope falls to the floor. I wipe the wine from my face, trying to ignore the quickening of my heartbeat. I tentatively find my feet, Bea looking to me for reassurance.
‘I’ll get it,’ says a confident Ruan.
‘No, it’s fine.’ I’m already making my way to the front door, sick with the awareness of these familiar feelings. I used to dread the sound of the letter box, the sight of the poor postman, wondering what nasty letter would be dropping to my floor. I veer off towards the front window. I need to check if anyone’s there. But no one. I’m aware of Ruan moving towards me as I open the front door.
‘What are you doing?’ shrieks Bea. ‘Shut the door, for God’s sake.’
‘Shhh, Bea.’ With my heart in my mouth, I step out. It’s pitch black, the wind has died down and a silence surrounds me, other than the hum of the Atlantic behind. Our front gate has been left open. Was this to help someone make a quick getaway? I tread to the end of the small path, expecting someone to jump out, then gaze down towards the low wall bordering the road.
I can feel you breathing; you are watching me, aren’t you?
I could have missed you by a few steps but I’m certain you’re still here. I freeze. My words jar as my entire body quivers. Something hanging in the air; a familiar scent smothers my nostrils. ‘Eve?’ Ruan’s voice echoes around me. I cannot speak. ‘Eve?’
I turn to face him as he takes my arm. ‘He’s been here. I’m not imagining it, Ruan – he’s been here tonight. I know he has.’
He turns me around, ushering me towards the door. ‘Come on, you don’t know this, do you? Not for sure. Let’s go in, open the envelope; it’s freezing out here.’
I step back over the threshold to pick up what has been dropped through my letter box. Scanning the envelope for signs, who the envelope is addressed to, a giveaway postmark, hoping it’s simply an innocent redirecting of some wandering post. A neighbour has dropped it off.
Nothing.
I sniff the envelope.
It was hand-delivered. I can smell you.
‘Eve, what is it?’ Bea asks.
‘Shush, please!’ I glance at her worried expression. ‘Sorry, Bea, give me a moment.’
I pull out two A4 printed sheets with eyes half closed, my head wispy with the lack of oxygen. With trembling legs, I walk further into the light of the fire to make sense of what I’m holding. A copy of our marriage certificate, and a copy of Jack’s birth certificate. Then, I notice your additions; in black thick lettering scrawled diagonally across each of the sheets. On the birth certificate the word MINE, on the marriage certificate the words TILL DEATH DO US PART, glare back at me.
I instinctively turn back for the front door, throw it open, ignoring the cries of Bea and Ruan; I stagger towards the gate, now closed. It’s so dark, my eyes struggle to adjust but I manage to catch a glimpse of a disappearing dusky shadow, without a question of doubt – belonging to a man. He does not move at speed; to the contrary, he walks with a slow, sure confidence. I consider for one stupid moment running after him, but my feet refuse to budge. Then I’m grabbed from behind by Ruan.
‘He’s back, he was right here, within a couple of feet from me, a few moments ago, we were side by side pretty much.’
Ruan doesn’t respond as I fall against him. My body stiff with fear, then anger.
At least I now know for sure: you’ve found us.