“So, you did write to me,” the boy in me squeaked as I tried to wrap my brain around what she was saying and not knowing what to do with it. I shot a despairing look Mads’ way, and his answering smile was warm and reassuring.
“Okay, I get that you were scared,” I admitted, because I totally did. I wouldn’t have bet against my father carrying out his threat. “But what about the school? Couldn’t you have reached me through them?”
That half-sad, half-blank look returned. “Your father told them a pack of lies about me being an alcoholic and drug addict, and that’s why I’d taken off. He asked them not to let me talk to you if I rang and to call him instead, which they did, I might add.”
And I suddenly remembered the school counsellor hovering over me for weeks after my mother left and just wishing she’d piss off because it was making all the other kids look at me sideways. “I didn’t know that.”
Chloe huffed in disgust. “He was setting up a case to get custody if I ever went to the police or tried to involve social services. He even had his mates primed to back the whole drug and abandonment accusations if anyone came snooping.”
“What about Bertie?” I asked about the only one of Chloe’s friends to survive my father’s control of my mother’s life. “Couldn’t she have helped?”
Chloe frowned like she couldn’t place the name, and her fingers began anxiously working the hem of her shirt. “I, um... I’m sorry. Who? Like I said, my memory isn’t always so good.”
I gaped because that was just crazy. Chloe and Bertie had been as close as two friends could be under the circumstances, and Bertie had tried for years to get my mother to leave Travis. I narrowed my gaze and studied her closely. “Bertie. Your best friend. Or even Cyril, next door?”
My mother looked almost panicked before she finally answered, “Oh, right. Well, I... I don’t know what to tell you. I suppose I was worried they’d become targets for your father as well. I couldn’t have that.”
She supposed?It was an odd choice of words and Chloe’s gaze slid sideways, darting around the room like she was mentally scrambling for more to say. But when she finally met my eyes again, nothing came, her expression as flat as it had been earlier.
Something wasn’t right.
Mads must’ve felt it too because he pressed his thigh hard against mine. I turned to find his expression carrying an unspoken warning.Leave it for now. She’s struggling.
If only I was the man Mads thought I was.
Instead, I said, “You could’ve at least tried. Dad would’ve had to find us and it would’ve given us time.”
Beside me, Mads sighed.
“That’s exactly what I intended to do,” Chloe answered, her voice catching, her face a tear-stained mess. “I didn’t bend to his will straight away. Once I got settled, I was going back for you.”
I swallowed a bellow of frustration. “So, what happened?”
She caught my gaze and held it. “He found me. Tracked me to Kaikoura and left a bunch of photos in my letterbox. One of you in a school assembly and some of you playing rugby. That way I’d know it was him. But there were also photos of me at the supermarket, visiting a friend, and several of me making dinner in my little flat. Those ones had been taken at night through my kitchen window from just metres away. I fled to Nelson and then Blenheim, but he found me both times. He never tried to see me. Never knocked on my door. Just left photos in the letterbox.”
A memory burst into my brain. A three-day trip with my father not long after Chloe left. At the time, he said he needed a break. We drove down the east coast of the South Island, and I remembered calling in at a small coastal town that could’ve easily been Kaikoura. It wasn’t much of a holiday. We spent the weekend roaming the area and doing fuck all. When we weren’t doing that, my father left me in our shitty motel and warned me to stay put or there’d be hell to pay. I’d assumed he’d gone drinking, but maybe he’d been stalking Chloe.
“Jesus,” I breathed the word, feeling my pulse quicken in my throat. “I think I remember that trip.”
She regarded me sadly. “I wondered if he’d taken you with him. You were so close. Anyway, the photos and random visits happened periodically for years. Phone calls too. Hang-ups in the middle of the night. And one time I found a dead bird in my letterbox with its beak removed and yet more photos of me... inbed this time... asleep. He’d been inside my house. Inside my bedroom.”
The blood drained from my face trying to imagine the horror of it.
Chloe’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “Your father was letting me know he could find me anytime he wanted, but he was also telling me that you were okay.” She winced. “Physically, at least. Anyway, I got the message.”
I nodded, the truth sinking in. “He used me as a pawn to hurt you.” It was hardly a surprise.
“Exactly.” She hesitated, then added, “I take it you didn’t find any of my letters after he died?”
“I didn’t bother going through his things,” I explained sourly. “I didn’t want to set foot in that house again. I dealt with everything by phone. Organised for him to be cremated and told them they could do what they liked with his ashes. They’re probably still sitting on a shelf at the funeral home. Then I sold all his belongings and the house through an agent and gave the proceeds to an LGBTQ charity.”
That made her laugh, and the clear sound of it startled me. “God, that’s brilliant. I’m so proud of you.” She regarded me with genuinely happy eyes. “He’d have hated that.”
“Damn right,” I agreed, smiling despite myself. “To be honest, it felt fucking brilliant.”
We joined in a laugh and then the room quietened and Chloe turned her attention to Mads. “I think we could all use a hot drink. Would you mind doing the honours? I have a tray ready in the kitchen with some sweet treats as well.”
Mads all but leaped to his feet. “I’d be happy to.”
