Anything for Her (5 page)

‘Dad, please…’

‘What the
hell
happened that night, Brooke?
’
Michael yells, gripping his daughter by her shoulders. He shakes her vigorously. ‘Tell me what happened! Tell me what destroyed our family!’

‘I can’t! I can’t!’ Brooke wails, before snatching the glove from the floor and running up the stairs. The sounds of her cries follow her until her bedroom door slams shut and silence is thrown onto the house like ice-cold water.

In the kitchen doorway, Dominic stands motionless. He makes eye contact with his father by the front door. The man is broken. The stare is intense and sombre, until it is severed. Michael picks up the package, shuts the front door and returns to his study.

Dominic listens to the sound of his father’s retreating footsteps. The milk boils over the edge of the saucepan and hisses down onto the hotplate.

Chapter Ten

Louise has walked for hours.

Despite the landscape’s natural beauty, her mind is elsewhere: somewhere dark and afflictive. Even her throbbing ankle takes second place in her thoughts. She has thought of her husband, and how she will never be able to forgive him. She has thought of their financial predicament, but has yet to find a way to escape it that would not leave them penniless. She has thought of that night – the night that robbed her of innocence and turned her into a monster.

She has walked several miles from the village, and has not seen a single person since the Andrews. Reaching the centre of a field, she looks around her, taking in the sight of the white, rolling hills, and the rabbits prancing over the snow-covered grassland in the distance.

She closes her eyes, takes in a long, deep breath that inflates her lungs, and releases it in a mighty, unrestrained scream. She screams until she is red in the face, unable to scream any longer, and then breathes in again. She falls to her knees, and bellows out the agony of her husband’s betrayal.

She howls for the loss of her sister and the agony Denise has caused her.

She screams out her built-up rage and shame over the night that changed her life forever.

She screams until her voice is hoarse, and her throat is burning.

Her screams echo over the surrounding fields and hills, and continue to ring in her ears even after she has stopped.

She lies down on the snow, sobbing and gasping furiously, her breaths escaping in small clouds.

‘How did my life get like this?’ she asks herself, lying on her back on the snow. She weeps until she is exhausted, until every muscle in her body aches, and her eyes are unable to produce any more tears.

Finally, she gets to her feet and brushes off clinging clumps of snow, sensing a slight release from the weight of the despair that hangs over her. On her traipse back to the village, she promises herself this: she will never cry over her husband again.

***

Louise arrives back in the village as the sun begins to set. Shadows creep through the village like a dark mist.

She walks wearily up the lane, now very aware of her swollen ankle, and utters a sigh of relief when she reaches the house. As she opens the gate, she looks towards the house and sees a moving shadow at one
of the windows. It freezes, as if staring at her. She can just make out the silhouette of a person before it vanishes from sight.

I have lost my husband, my wealth and my sanity. I won’t lose my last few belongings
.

She races up the garden path and reaches the door. Her shaking hand fights to get the key into the lock. The door swings inwards with the force of the wind and slams violently against the wall, knocking coats off their hooks. She scans the room frantically. Through the windows she sees someone running across the garden.

She slams the front door shut and races to the back door, before flying through it into the garden.

Large footprints in the snow lead to the garden wall. Broken ivy leaves hang from the torn stems, still clinging to the bricks. She can hear the rustling of leaves on the other side of the wall as the intruder flees.

Louise climbs up the cold, slippery leaves, gripping the ivy strands with clenched, gloved fists until she is straddling the top of the wall. She looks into the woodland and spots the dark figure running further into its depths.

She climbs down the other side of the wall and heads into the woodland, kicking up leaves and snow into a frenzied flurry. Her ankle burns from the strain, but she must keep going. She has to see who entered
her house, and find out what this person was after.

She can still see the figure in the distance, darting between trees, never looking back.

Louise runs for several minutes, heaving for air. The arctic wind stings her airways and flushes her face red. She heads further into the woodland, unsure how much longer she can keep going before her ankle gives way and she falls to the ground with a thud.

Eventually, she reaches the end of the woodland and finds herself in a clearing at the end of the lane, in front of the abandoned barn. In the diminishing light of the setting sun, it looks dark and menacing. The shadows within accentuate the whiteness of the snow outside. Old hay, matted with ancient animal dung, rots in piles around the dishevelled structure, the flies that once hovered over them long dead. The external wooden panels have begun to fall apart from neglect and the harsh winter weather. Roof tiles have cracked and slid free, revealing gaping holes in the roof. The doors were unlocked by optimistic thieves long ago – the chain that once secured the doors is now rusty and severed. One of the large doors is ajar. Footprints lead to the doors of the barn.

Louise approaches the barn, her heart pounding in her chest.

You’re crazy! Call the police! What do you plan to do when you get inside?

She doesn’t know the answer to her question, but
still she finds herself advancing towards the door. Standing before the rusty, broken padlock, she dares to look up at the sinister building towering above her. She listens at the door for any sign of life inside, but hears nothing.

Before she can stop herself, Louise pulls open the door. It creaks on its rusted hinges. She steps inside.

With a slam, the door shuts stiffly behind her and plunges her into darkness. She stands in the dark, breathing fast and trembling. The only light comes from the darkening sky above; it shines, in pitiful beams, through the gaps in the roof.

Although long abandoned, the barn still smells of the animals that once lived inside: the strong stench of manure and putrid urine seeped deep into the surface of the concrete floor.

‘I know you’re in here,’ she says, timidly. ‘I know you were in my house.’

At the sound of her voice, bats flee from the shadows, screeching as they escape through the holes in the roof. The echoes of their screams surround her head as though the creatures are inches from her face. She ducks instinctively, covering her ears with her hands and squeezing her eyes shut. She stays crouched until the chaos abates, then stands slowly, removing her shaking hands from her ears.

‘I don’t know why you were in my house,’ she says into the darkness. ‘But I definitely saw you.’

The darkness replies with silence.

‘Whatever you want, you can’t get it from me. I don’t have anything left to give. Leave me and my house alone. Find another person to prey on.’

She stands in the darkness, listening to the sound of her heart beating furiously.

‘Leave me be, and I won’t call the police. All I want is to be left alone.’

Louise walks out of the barn, allowing a slice of the dusk light to enter before the door slams behind her, returning the barn to darkness.

Louise fails to hear the reply from the shadows.

‘I’m afraid I can’t do that.’

Chapter Eleven

Louise walks back towards the house along the lane, too unnerved to follow the track through the woodland. She had felt something in that barn. It was a living being – a person – the same person who had been in her house. She could feel the person’s presence on her skin. It made every hair on her arms erect.

Or was it a delusion? Have I really begun to lose my mind?

Halfway up the hill, her phone vibrates in her pocket.

‘Hi, Brooke,’ Louise says.

‘Hi, Mum. How are you?’

‘Fine,’ she lies. ‘I’m fine. How’re you?’

‘Scared.’

Brooke’s voice is plagued with it, as though her fear is rattling her vocal chords.

‘Of what?’

‘A glove was left on the front step. A glove that belonged to—’ She stops abruptly, as if choking on the words. ‘One of them. From that night.’

The night has truly fallen now. The lane is filled with darkness, except for a grey mist that lurks around the bottoms of the trees nearby like a calm sea approaching with the tide.

‘It can’t be,’ Louise replies. ‘It would have been
evidence. The police will have everything from that night.’

Louise stops abruptly.

‘We shouldn’t talk about this over the phone.’

‘Mum, it was definitely from that night. It belonged to the woman—’

‘I said stop talking about it over the phone!’

Silence falls at the other end of the line.

‘I’m sorry,’ Louise says. ‘I didn’t mean to snap at you.’

‘It’s fine,’ Brooke replies, offended.

‘Don’t worry. It won’t be what you think it is. A kid probably dropped it on his paper round or something.’

‘Well, the kid must have had a wound to make the glove bloody.’

Louise begins to worry, but refuses to show it in her voice.

‘Everything’s fine. It’s probably nothing. You’ve always had an overactive imagination.’

‘I know what blood looks like, Mum.’

‘I don’t want to talk about this over the phone.’

‘Well, come home then.’

‘I can’t.’

‘You can – you just don’t want to.’

‘Fine, I don’t want to. Do you blame me?’

‘You have two kids at home, Mum. Dom is so confused.’

‘Don’t you dare make me feel bad, Brooke. My life is
falling apart. I’m allowed to run off for a while if I want to.’

‘What would you like us to do in the meantime? Wait around for you to act like a real parent?’

‘Fuck you, Brooke.’

Louise ends the call, seething. She immediately considers calling back to apologise, but she can’t bring herself to do it. She can’t be guilt-tripped back to London. She needs to stay away for a while, even if it means abandoning her children for a few days. Having devoted her life to them from the moment they were born, now she needs a few days for herself, to fall apart and then heal, before returning to her role as the family’s rock.

As she approaches the house, the only light visible is the outside lamp by the front door. Louise pushes open the creaky gate and walks up the path, fumbling for the keys in her coat pocket. As she reaches the front door, she glances down.

On the doormat lies a dead robin.

Chapter Twelve

Louise freezes at the sight. A frisson of fear runs down her back. The winter air suddenly feels far colder, and the darkness surrounding the house seems to blanket hidden threats.

She looks around the front garden for any sign of life, and then looks back at the robin. Placing her keys in her pocket, she picks up the bird to inspect it. She doesn’t notice any differences between this robin and the one left that morning, but then she doesn’t know what distinguishing features to look for in such a bird. She wonders if it is in fact a second bird, or if the first one has been dug up by another animal.

This can’t be a coincidence
.

She takes the bird to where she buried the other and places it by her side. With shaking hands, she begins to scoop away the snow, longing to find an empty space – but instead sees a flash of orange feathers.

Louise stares at the orange chest of the robin she had buried that morning and looks back to the second bird lying beside her. Now she is worried. Now she believes Brooke about the glove.

She looks around her, terrified of being attacked by someone, or something, from the darkness. Taking the first robin from its grave, she picks up the other and
stares at them, wondering why something, or someone, is leaving dead birds for her to find. She lays the robins side by side inside the grave and quickly covers them with snow, patting furiously until the grave is hard and flat, before getting to her feet and running to the door; she fumbles for her keys, darting her head from left to right and behind her, terrified that someone is out there, watching her, waiting to strike.

Louise is quivering so much that she struggles to fit the key into the lock; but the second the key slips into the lock, she rushes inside the dark house and slams the door behind her. Her hand fumbles for the light switch. When light is thrown into the room, she locks and bolts the door and leans against it, panting with anxious breaths. Too terrified to move, she looks around to see if anything is out of place.

She tells herself that she is being paranoid, but the image of the birds continues to flash into her mind. So she vigilantly checks the house, securing every door and window, and finally stands at the top of the stairs, listening for any sign of life. The ring of silence buzzes in her ears. She sighs, shaking her clammy, weak hands to rid them of the numb sensation.

You’re acting crazy. There is probably a nest in the roof and the birds died from the cold, fell from their nest and landed on the doormat. There will be a rational explanation for all of this
.

As she tries to comfort herself, she can’t get rid of her fear of staying in the house alone, nor can she quieten the voice within her that whispers:
But what if it
is
to do with that night?

She stands in silence for a few moments longer, terrified that the voice might be right.

Chapter Thirteen

Louise walks from the bathroom into the master suite, wrapped in a towel. She searches in the chest of drawers for a nightgown. As she picks up a black silk gown, something falls from it and lands on the floor with a thump.