Try Not to Breathe (22 page)

“She dumped him at break time in front of everyone, one of those big whole-school dramas on the front lawn. I asked her out as she marched off. My heart was thumping but I just went for it and she said yes. I couldn’t stop smiling for weeks.”

“How long had you been going out when Amy was attacked?”

“About seven or eight months. I don’t know how I got away with it for that long, she was totally out of my league.”

Alex smiled.

“I know we were stupidly young but I really did love her. I’d loved her since I was eleven.”

“Jacob, who did you think hurt Amy?”

“At the time, I didn’t have a clue. I thought it must have been one of those random unlucky things. A kidnapping by some nutcase. Then they arrested Bob.”

“Did you ever think he might have been guilty?”

“Well, yeah. As soon as he was arrested I thought he must have done it. The police only arrest bad people, so he must have been a bad person. That’s what you think when you’re fifteen.”

“That’s only human. It’s a gut reaction.”

“I guess. I know now it wasn’t him and I was really shocked, obviously, but there were a few little things that sort of made sense.”

Alex put her mug down and flicked her eyes at the recording app, still glowing red.

“How did it make sense?” she asked as calmly as she could.

“I feel awful saying it now, but he was very affectionate with Amy. That sounds horrible, and now I’m an adult and I have a baby on the way, I know that it’s a
good
thing for dads to be affectionate. But because he was her stepdad and I didn’t really know many stepfamilies then, I thought maybe that wasn’t how it was supposed to be.”

Jacob looked at Alex’s raised eyebrows.

“I know, like I say, I don’t think that anymore.”

“So was that it, just what you thought might be misplaced affection?”

“He could be a little bit possessive, I guess.”

“With Amy’s mum?”

“No, with Amy.”

“Go on.”

“I don’t know, like he didn’t like her talking to boys on the phone, didn’t like her dressing up too much. And she said he used to get a bit funny about her coming to my house, used to say things about our house being bigger than theirs and little digs about what my dad did for a job.”

“I imagine that’s normal when there’s a disparity in income.”

“Yeah, probably. Also, Amy had the chance to meet her real dad once, but Bob stopped her. I didn’t think that was right.”

“I didn’t think her birth dad knew where she was.”

“He’d got in touch once—”

“He’d got in touch? When?”

“Oh, a while before…you know. Months before she was attacked.”

“But there’s nothing about him anywhere in the reports. I’ve read everything, Jacob, I mean everything.”

“Well, I guess there wouldn’t be. She didn’t get to meet him because Bob stopped her.”

“Are you sure?”

Jacob narrowed his eyes and looked at his lap.

“They never met, Amy would have told me if they had. He phoned out of the blue one day and said he was her dad. He wanted to see her but Bob said no.”

“Are you sure? This guy just phoned out of the blue and that was it? Nothing more happened?”

“Yes, definitely. Don’t get the wrong idea, it was nothing. He called her after school one day, said he was her father and that he wanted to see her. She called me afterward, she wasn’t sure whether to even mention it to her mum and Bob or just forget it.”

“But you don’t think they met?”

“No. She wasn’t even sure he was telling the truth, he could have been anyone. She told him she’d think about it just to get him off the phone, but she never met him. Bob put his foot down and that was the end of it.”

“And you’re sure?”

“Positive.”

Alex looked at the kitchen clock out the side of her eye. A deep thirst was crushing her chest as the afternoon rolled around.

“I’m confused,” she said. “Bob told me Amy’s dad didn’t want to know about her. That he was a thug and her mum ran away from him when she was pregnant.”

“I don’t think her dad was on the scene at first but I’m pretty sure he’d come looking for her when she was little.”

“So she did see her dad?”

“No, from what I remember, she said he’d turned up at their house one day but Bob saw him off.”

“Bob?”

“Apparently, yeah. Amy was inside the whole time with her mum. She was just a little kid.”

“When did she tell you about this?”

“I don’t know, she mentioned it once or twice when we were going out. It wasn’t a big deal though, honestly. She was much more bothered about the constant infighting between her and her friends.”

“Do you remember her real dad’s name?”

“I don’t have a clue. I don’t even know if she told me his name.”

“Why didn’t you mention any of this to the police?”

“They took Bob in for bigger reasons than jealousy. Anyway, it was months earlier and they never met. It was just a phone call. I’d forgotten all about it until a little while after Bob was arrested. The police knew Bob wasn’t Amy’s real dad anyway. I’m sure they looked into this at the time.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain about that,” Alex said. “The police miss stuff all the time. They cut corners, they prioritize leads, they lose evidence…”

“Sounds like you don’t have a great view of the police, Alex.”

“I’m just saying they’re human and they make mistakes. That’s all.”

Jacob’s taxi pipped its horn at 1:30 p.m. on the dot. Alex was dialing with one hand as she closed the front door behind him.

Bob picked up after two rings, his voice immediately echoing down the line.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Bob, it’s Alex Dale. I’m sorry to disturb you.”

“That’s okay. I’m just on a job though, what do you need?”

I
woke up desperate for my mum, in this piercing way I haven’t felt since I was tiny, since before Bob was around.

Back then, though I barely remember it, it was just me and Mum. Every day. The only hand I remember holding was hers and more often than not I slept in her bed, cuddling up to her while she snored slightly. Especially in the winter when it was cold. I think we both liked that feeling, having each other there, wordless and happy. I can remember a time without Bob, though I’m glad he came on the scene. But I don’t remember a time before Mum because there wasn’t one, it’s always been us.

People underestimate my mum. They see her…actually, they don’t really see her. She doesn’t stand out, she doesn’t seem remarkable in any way. She wanders along, not asking for much and happy with her lot. But she is remarkable. She did it all by herself, she gave me this whole world she never had. These possibilities. Every single day of my life I’ve felt like she was proud of me, even if I couldn’t tell you why or for what. And without her, I just feel so small. I feel like a little speck suspended in space. I can barely feel the bed under me, or my nightie, like I’m almost part of the air.

I just want my mum.

It’s physical. A feeling in my chest that’s somewhere near fear but also a sort of longing and a desperate sadness, all at the same time. And it’s like something from a dream, because it doesn’t make sense, the feelings are out of proportion.

She’ll be at work, and Bob’ll be at work, and they must have let me sleep in because it’s the summer holidays.

I’m lying here, hours later, still waiting for the last of this feeling to slip away. It’s like when you have a dream that sticks to you and the only cure is going back to sleep the next night. I once dreamed that Becky had told Jake all this horrible stuff about me that wasn’t true, and he’d dumped me in front of everyone in the middle of the canteen. And even though it was just a dream, I couldn’t look at her all day. Couldn’t look her in the eye, I was that livid. And we ended up falling out anyway because I was “being funny” with her.

I’ve been telling myself that this dream situation is as stupid as that one. But I can’t shake the last little drops of it. And it’s making me question things. Like,
when did I actually last see my mum? What conversations did we have?
I can’t place them. Was it yesterday or the day before? Did I get in after she’d gone to bed? Did I drink last night? Did I drink and do something wrong and embarrass myself? Is she ashamed of me? Does she not want to see me because some of her pride has been punctured and she can’t bring herself to show that?

The more I think about this kind of thing, the more scared I feel. My mum calls it “going down the rabbit hole.” We both do it, especially at night if we can’t sleep. We start thinking about things, and before you know it, we’ve jumped to the worst-case scenario and are obsessing about it. Along with her smile, her voice and her long legs for her height, that’s the biggest gift my mum gave me. I wish I could give it back.

I
t felt wrong knocking on his own front door, but Jacob knew that barging in unannounced would be a gross misdemeanor. He slumped to the side on his crutches, lifting his fist to knock for the third time, as the neighbors to the left looked on.

He slipped the key in and turned it to the right, meeting resistance. He tried to turn it to the left; it didn’t give at all. Right again. Jiggle. Turn. No. He staggered back, punch-drunk. She’d changed the locks. She’d actually changed the locks on his house. Their home.

He banged on the door, louder this time. “Fiona! It’s me! Fuck.” He sat down on the doorstep, propped against his own front door. She could be hours. He tried to call her mobile again, just as he had this morning when he woke up. Was it an echo of a memory or did he really hear Fiona’s phone ringing inside the house?

The voicemail cut in—he hung up and dialed again. And again. As he tried calling for the fourth time, he heard a voice behind him.

“What are you doing?” Fiona hissed through the letterbox.

Jacob scrambled to a stand, wincing as he stood on his bad leg, fumbling with the crutches.

“Fiona,” he said, head bowed into his chest, forehead resting on the door. “We need to talk. Please let me in.”

“No, Jacob. You don’t live here anymore.”

“Fiona.” Jacob felt his hands clenching into fists. “Fiona,” he said again, quietly.

“Just go away, Jacob, don’t do this now.”

“No,” he said, pushing upright from the door and standing as straight as his crutches would allow. “This is my house too.”

Fiona swung the door open, but stood blocking the entrance.

“We’re beyond that now, J, you’ve come out with so much bollocks, I find it hard to even look at you.” She was angrier than before. “You’re better off staying with your mum.”

“Fiona, I moved out to give you some space. I did what you asked and you’ve changed the locks. Do you not see what a massive overreaction that is?”

“I’m just trying to be sensible. Everything I thought we were building just wasn’t good enough, was it? I really tried, but you’re obviously not going to change, you’re not going to tell me the truth, you’re not going to magically reappear as the old Jacob. We need to be realistic.” She wiped her eyes on her cardigan cuff.

“So what is it now, then? You don’t know me and I keep my thoughts to myself and
that’s
the problem?” Jacob said, grinding his jaw. “Or you think I’m cheating on you and throwing away everything we have because I dared to go for a drive at night when I couldn’t sleep because of your snoring! Which is it?”

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive, Jacob. It’s both of those things and more. And thank you for twisting this so it’s somehow my fault for snoring when I’m heavily pregnant. Jesus.”

“Fiona, you’re wrong about so much of this. And you’re choosing to see the worst in me. After all this time, don’t I deserve some benefit of the doubt?”

She said nothing, hands on hips, her eyes searching his face.

Jacob’s voice got louder. “I’ve never hurt you, never cheated on you, never laid a finger on you. I know I’m not always easy to live with, but neither are you. How about a little mutual understanding?”

“How can I understand you when you’re never honest with me? I don’t know what I’m supposed to understand! Who are you, Jacob? What’s going on in that fucking head of yours? You sneak off, you lie to me, you can’t look me in the bloody eye. If you’re not cheating, I dread to think what you are doing.”

“You want me to be totally honest with you, Fiona?” He laughed and looked at the neighboring house, whose curtain suddenly snapped back into place.

“You want me to be totally honest so you can twist everything and use what I say to beat me around the head? Some things are too precious for that,” he spat. “You don’t know me at all, you said it yourself. I thought you knew me better than anyone but that was just wishful thinking. Fuck it, I don’t even think you like me.”

He pressed his hands against the wall as she glared at him. Her silence more deafening than her yell.

“Fiona, I love you. But right now I don’t like you very much either. You’re like a coiled snake all the time. I can’t ever relax, I’m walking on eggshells and I can’t do it forever.”

“You made me this way,” came the strangled reply.

“I probably did, yeah,” he said, with a softer voice.

“I hate you for that. I don’t want to be this person.”

“We are who we are. If we can’t get past this, then maybe we
should
call it quits.”

He hadn’t meant to say it. He hadn’t even thought it until it fell out of his mouth. And when Fiona said nothing, he swung away on his crutches before he could say anything else.