Amy glanced at the clock. It was nearly 6.30 and Nick would be home in half an hour. She scooped George up out of his high chair, where he was busily demolishing a bread roll and throwing the crumbs onto the floor. He squirmed in her arms and reached back towards the chair, wanting to finish his snack. ‘No, sweetheart,’ Amy chided, whisking him out of the kitchen. ‘You need to get in the bath. Come on, I’ll race you. You too, Meggie.’
She raced towards the stairs and made George giggle as she climbed them on all fours, pretending to be a dog. Megan was less easily amused, following at a more sedate pace and looking at Amy suspiciously. Amy ran the bath and dunked both children into it for a perfunctory wash, before chivvying them into their bedrooms and into their pyjamas.
Back downstairs, she kept looking nervously towards the clock as she found a dustpan and brush and cleared up the debris from the children’s tea, wiped the table and stacked the dishwasher. She didn’t miss Suki one bit but she certainly missed what she did around the house. Looking after two children on your own was hard work.
As the hands of the clock snaked inexorably towards 6.30, she dashed into the downstairs bathroom to run her hands through her hair, slick on some lipgloss and spritz herself with Nick’s favourite Hermès perfume. By the time he walked through the door ten minutes later, Amy was posed serenely on the sofa, with a child under each arm, reading The Gruffalo.
He put down his briefcase and beamed at them. ‘Well, isn’t that a welcome sight for sore eyes,’ he said, kissing Amy and the children one by one.
Amy quietly exhaled and allowed her shoulders to relax, only now realizing how tense she’d been for the past few hours. He seemed in a really good mood. She could never be sure until he walked through the door. It varied so much. ‘Good day?’ she asked, getting up and going to fix him a gin and tonic.
Nick loosened his tie and took her place between the children on the sofa. ‘Good now work’s over,’ he said, as George scrambled onto his lap and immediately demanded he play ‘horsey’. Nick happily obliged and within seconds George was screaming with laughter. Amy watched Megan, who had inched very slightly away from Nick. She was a carbon copy of Amy in miniature form and shared her mother’s nervousness around him. Nick had never mentioned it but Amy wondered how much he noticed.
He certainly made no secret of favouring George. His son was too young to remember any of the really bad moments, so he took Nick at face value and idolized him, whereas Megan was serious and tense in his presence. Forgetting what had gone on clearly wasn’t an option for her and it made Amy feel physically sick with guilt.
They had been back almost six months now and she had to remind herself every day that she had done the right thing. Nick had wooed her with a passion that had swept her off her feet when they first came home and she had found herself falling in love with him all over again. It was exciting, magical, thrilling. It was just like it had been in the very beginning.
She had understood when he said he didn’t want her seeing ‘the girls’ any more. He said they would poison her against him, just like they did before. Amy acknowledged that this was true. They hated Nick. There was every chance they would use any opportunity to persuade her not to stay with him. So her visit to see Sophie and Steve when baby Theo was born had to be the last. Nick was very firm – they didn’t stand a chance if she wouldn’t agree to that. So she did.
She missed them though. All of them. And so did Megan. She often looked up at Amy with her big, imploring eyes and begged to know when she would see Emma again. Amy would smile reassuringly and lie that it would be soon. She hoped that after a while, she’d forget. Unfortunately, forgetting wasn’t something Megan did.
‘I said, what did you do all day?’ Nick was suddenly standing behind Amy, catching her unawares. She dropped the crystal glass full of freshly mixed gin and tonic she was holding and it shattered onto the hard tiled floor. The liquid splashed up Amy’s legs before settling in a puddle by her feet.
There was a beat of silence before Nick leapt back in shock. ‘For fuck’s sake!’ he yelled, mopping himself down, although Amy was pretty sure none of it had reached him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Megan’s head turn towards them sharply.
‘Sorry,’ she said, trying to muster a reassuring smile. ‘You go and sit down. I’ll clear it up and bring you another one.’
Temper blazed in Nick’s eyes but he reluctantly returned to the sofa, shaking his head and tutting. ‘Horsey!’ George cried, leaping onto Nick’s lap the minute he sat down.
Nick shoved him off roughly. ‘No! For God’s sake, all I want after a busy day is a bit of peace and quiet. Instead I have to come home to a bloody pigsty!’ He stood up and stomped out of the kitchen, leaving Amy and the children gaping after him. George started to cry, his face crumpling in confusion. Megan stayed silent and chewed at her thumbnail.
Amy put down the dustpan and brush she was using to clear up the broken glass. She sat on the sofa and pulled George into a cuddle. ‘Shh, now, darling. Daddy’s just very tired. Now, how about we all go up to bed and I can read you the rest of The Gruffalo?’ George sniffed sulkily but nodded.
‘Meggie?’ Amy ruffled Megan’s hair and looked at her questioningly. Megan pursed her lips. ‘Is Daddy getting angry again? I don’t like it when he gets angry. It scares me.’
Amy’s stomach dropped. ‘No! Don’t be daft. He’s just very tired because he’s so busy at work. He’ll be happy again in the morning.’
Megan frowned. ‘I hope so.’
Later, when the children were in bed and Amy was cooking dinner – a dinner she had no idea whether Nick would eat – he reappeared in the kitchen. Amy felt his presence before she saw him. It was as if he carried a black storm cloud into the room with him. She glanced at him and recoiled at the look in his eyes. It was a look she’d seen too many times before and she knew exactly what would happen next.
He sat at the table and stared at her through the thick silence. Amy’s throat dried as she finished simmering the Thai green curry and served it onto two plates. She placed one of the plates in front of him. He looked at it in disgust. ‘What the fuck is this?’
Amy shook her head and sighed. ‘Nick, please… don’t start with this again…’
The movement was so quick that she didn’t have time to react and in a split second, he had pinned her against the wall, his hand around her neck. His eyes were blazing with a manic rage as he pushed his face forward until it was just millimetres from hers, their noses almost touching. ‘Don’t… WHAT?’ he snarled.
All at once, the terror and tension seeped out of Amy’s body and she sagged forward so that his hand pressed harder into her windpipe. She didn’t care if he killed her. She just wanted it to be over. Nick’s eyes flickered with panic and he pulled his hand away as if he’d been electrocuted, causing Amy to crumple into a heap on the floor at his feet.
For a moment, Amy didn’t move. She wondered vaguely if she was dead. The thought didn’t scare her. She found it strangely soothing. Then Nick’s feet shifted and she realized with a slight sense of disappointment that she was still alive. ‘What did you do that for?’ Nick’s voice was genuinely perplexed, all his rage now replaced by genuine concern.
Amy swallowed. Her throat felt raw and she knew that the old, familiar bruises would already be reappearing on her neck, as if her skin had a memory. As if they had been lying dormant all this time, just waiting for their moment to reappear. She didn’t want to get up. She wanted to carry on lying where she was.
Nick crouched down and stroked her hair tenderly. ‘Amy? Sweetheart, are you OK?’
Amy smiled to herself. It was almost impressive, the way he was able to detach himself. As if her lying on the floor with strangulation marks across her throat had absolutely nothing to do with him. It was as though he had stumbled in and found her there.
‘Amy?’ He took her hand in his and pressed it to his lips. ‘Come on, darling, say something.’
But Amy couldn’t speak. There were no words. She had put herself in this situation and it was all her fault. She had come back to him, always knowing subconsciously that they would end up here again. And only now it dawned on her that she had wanted it all along. What kind of a woman was she, that she wanted her husband to kill her? That she was disappointed that he had failed? What kind of mother would do this to her children? The very worst kind, which is exactly what she was. She was worthless.