She kicked the wood and held what little of her breath she could. There was no sound, but then again, Terry never made a sound.I am watching.Stalking like a hunter waiting for its prey to move. That’s how Terry operated. Whoever had her trapped in this coffin knew that. They knew too much. They knew Terry.
‘Are you enjoying my little surprise, Gina darling?’Terry’s voice sounded like it was next to her. It was in her, around her, everywhere.
‘Leave me alone.’
‘You thought you were safe, in the clear. Let me tell you something, I always win. You know I do. You can’t get away from me, ever. I always told you that.’
He would never let her go, however hard she tried to leave him behind and start afresh; he was always there, crawling through her thought passages. His laughter filled the box and the darkness was closing in. Pitch-black darkness.
She shuffled against the side of the coffin away from his tyranny, but she bumped into something soft.
‘See, I’m everywhere.’
She jerked and shuffled to the other side, like a snake slithering sideways but with less finesse. Reaching out, she could feel the material that she’d pulled from the top of the coffin.
‘Miss me.’
Screaming, she held her arms over her head. She’d been drugged, she knew it. ‘Go away. Get off me.’
A few seconds later, the coffin was silent except for the sound of a hooting owl. Her heartbeat ramped up again and the sound of blood pulsating through her head silenced the owl. She had heard the owl; that was the important thing.
With trembling hands, she pulled out a small box from her pocket. She knew exactly what it would be. Shaking it, she listened to the three matches hitting cardboard. As she slid the tiny box open, the smell of sulphur hit her nostrils. She struck and for a few seconds, she could see the horror of her situation. The coffin killer had come for her. Alexander Swinton had not got out alive. She wasn’t going to get out alive. She struck another match and felt a fresh tear sliding down her cheek as she saw the hopelessness of her situation.
Closing her eyes, she imagined herself to be locked in the shed again.
In her mind, she wrapped her jumper around her elbow and jabbed the wooden panels that Terry had nailed across the shed windows, hoping to crack them and the glass behind them. After tearing them off with her bare hands, she felt freedom as the glass shattered and she could climb out. She grabbed a knife from the kitchen, and if Terry got in her way, she’d jab him with it. What next? She would run to Hannah and grab her from her cot. Then she’d sprint to the road and flag a car down. She had to imagine her victory. That’s what would have happened. She could have stopped his tyranny there and then. She could have found a way but fear had held her back, and love. She swallowed. Whatever punishment Terry had bestowed on Gina, she had loved him once and she couldn’t let go of that person she’d met at the time, the same person who would break down and beg for forgiveness and claim she was his everything.
Her fingers gripped the last match as she remembered the moment she had pushed Terry to his death. For a split second, she saw the old Terry. That’s what had hurt so much. She wiped her tears away. ‘If you ever loved me, Terry, really loved me, you’d never have hurt me so much.’
She lit the last match and stared ahead open-mouthed. How had she missed that?
Chapter Fifty-Three
Cherie placed her key in the door and felt the emptiness of what was once a bustling family home. The first thing to hit her was the cold, the second was the vacuous feeling of loneliness and she was to blame. She exhaled and a plume of white mist led the way into the chilly hallway. She grabbed another coat from the peg, putting it on over her hoodie as she switched the light and heating on. ‘Christian,’ she called. She knew there wouldn’t be an answer. Why would there be? She’d driven him away.
Hurrying through to the kitchen, she slammed the bag of shopping onto the kitchen table. Shopping – she wasn’t sure she could call it shopping. She pulled out the litre of vodka and two bottles of red wine. Unscrewing the vodka, a tear slipped down her cheek as she placed it to her lips and felt the warmth of the liquid slipping down her throat. It no longer mattered that it was cold. It no longer mattered that Christian had left her and it no longer mattered that there was a chance she’d never see her children again. Everything was going to come out and there was nothing she could do to stop it, not now the divisions in the group had been caused.
Maybe, just maybe, she’d been recognised as she discreetly sat and watched, trying to pluck up the courage to speak up and say something. She shook her head. No, that hadn’t happened. What was happening came down to Isaac or Marcus or even Penny.
Her finger hovered over Isaac’s number on her phone. No, she couldn’t call him. Not after the conversation she’d had with Marcus. Who to trust? That was the big question. Isaac – no. Marcus – no. Penny – who knows? Joanna – had Isaac said anything to Joanna? Maybe he’d kept his secret from her like she had from Christian. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe Joanna was in on all this with Isaac, doing all she could to protect him. Maybe they were all playing with her head.
The only thing she could trust was the alcohol in front of her. She could rely on it to make her forget and to fill her heart with all that she was missing. After an initial hit from the vodka, she unscrewed a bottle of red and took a swig. The merlot was mellower, full-bodied and flavoursome. ‘I have missed you, you beauty.’ She swallowed a bit more and leaned her head against the wall.
The light coming from the hallway led her eye to the windowsill. The photo of Bella and Oliver filled her with a flush of love that warmed her up. Their chocolate-brown eyes and bright smiles stared back at her. Bella’s long black plaits and freckly, coffee-coloured skin made Cherie want to reach out and hug her, drink her in as she smelled her hair. She gulped down some more wine. A quarter of a bottle gone, just like that. The table shook as she slammed her hand down.
She stood and balanced on her wobbly legs, then shuffled to the photo and held it close to her heart as she sobbed. The effects of the vodka and wine were kicking in quick. The room swayed a little – she was just at the slightly merry stage. During her pre-alcoholic stage in life, this is how she’d start a night out. But now, this is how she was going to start a big night in. If she was to sleep, she needed a drink and she needed to sleep. She needed the chance to dream of her children and her life before the past popped in for a visit and ruined her future. If all she could have were dreams, then that was what she’d have to settle for.
Taking one step at a time up the stairs, she turned off the landing light and headed to her and Christian’s bedroom. Her unread book lay flat on her bedside table, the one she hadn’t been able to concentrate on while sitting at the café, hiding at the back in the shadows while she watched and waited.Crime and Punishment– she hadn’t even got through the first chapter. As she’d sat in the café, she’d pondered over what to do. She should have revealed her motives sooner but as always, she was too late and the person she needed to speak to wasn’t often there when she was. Besides, that person would no longer recognise her. They had barely known each other.
It was too late to fix anything, too late to save her family and too late to save herself. The only thing she had control of was her spiral into descent and this she was doing her own way.
The quilt was all ruffled on the side where Christian had slept alone the night before. As she went to pull a curtain, she stumbled and dragged it along with the rail. ‘Damn.’ She placed the wine on the windowsill and dropped the curtain to the floor. Movement caught her eye. She stared beyond the back garden and saw someone in a long black coat. Similar, if not the same as the one she’d failed to get rid of and, for that, it still haunted her. She glanced back and the figure had gone. Maybe the only thing she’d just seen was a vision of herself. It was that creepy coat again. She would get rid of it but not now, tomorrow, or it would haunt her forever.
She grabbed the wine and sobbed as she reached Bella’s bedroom. Slipping off her shoes, she got into her daughter’s bed. She lay there in the darkness inhaling the citrusy scent of her shower gel, the one Bella loved. A long black hair lay on the pillow. She held it up and ran her fingers down it before allowing it to slip and fall to the floor. She grabbed the bear that had been Bella’s favourite since as long as Cherie could remember and hugged it closely as she brought the wine to her lips once again, a drizzle slipping down the side of her mouth.
An image flashed through her mind. A stick poking through cut flesh and laughter as salty tears dripped down the girl’s neck. She could see her black coat reflected in that girl’s eyes as she held the torch in her direction.
Marcus and Isaac would love it if she lost the plot. Maybe they were now seeing her as the loose cannon of the group but it was one of them, not her, and she’d get to the bottom of it all once she’d sobered up.
