“Because I love him very much,” she said.
“He doesn’t love you, he loves my mummy.”
Her smile faded then. “Now that me and your daddy are getting married, he thought it might be nice for you and me to spend the day together. How about that?” Her voice was all shaky, like she was scared. “What would you like to do? We could go to the zoo? Or to the park? Or the?—”
“I want Mummy!” he screamed.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but that’s?—”
Didn’t she understand? He didn’t want her. He’d hit her as hard as he could, over and over again, pummelling every part of her body that he could reach. Her legs, her hip, her knees. She’d lowered her arms to try and protect herself. Then she grabbed his wrists. He’d pulled and pulled, trying to get out of her grip.
He remembers the steel in her eyes. It was the first time he’d seen a backbone.
“That’s enough!” she yelled. “Stop!”
“You’re hurting me!” he screamed.
She let him go.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Was I too rough? Did I hurt you?”
The gravedigger smiles to himself, remembering what came next. It was the beginning of the games between them. He’d turned around and run from the room. First to the hallway, then to the kitchen. This washishouse. Not hers. His and his father’s house. He grabbed the front door handle, swinging it open to make his escape.
She tried to stop him but he spat in her face.
She wiped it away with her sleeve, making a disgusted sound. He ran straight out of the house.
It’d been cold outside despite the bright sunshine. He sprinted, as fast as a five-year-old could. He kept going and going and going, determined to not fall over.
He’d heard her panicked screech behind him. “Stop! Come back!”
He’d enjoyed the fear in her voice and the power he had over her.
He’d run straight towards the road at the end of their front garden. He saw the car approaching. He slowed, just slightly, but still kept going until he heard the high-pitched sound of car brakes screaming to a halt.
The car had stopped in the nick of time and a woman got out. He’d run straight to the stranger and folded his arms around her as though he was afraid of his stepmother.
“My goodness! Are you all right?” the woman had asked, her eyes crinkling in the sun.
“I’m scared,” he’d said, holding on to her tightly.
His stepmother had reached out to take him but he’d cringed away from her.
“She’s not my mummy!”
The woman holding him said, “I think he’s in shock.”
As the gravedigger dresses, he imagines himself back then, facing his crying stepmother, making sure the nice lady couldn’t see his face. He opened his mouth and smiled, showing her his teeth.
“I’m going to find you,” he says under his breath. “And I’m going to kill you.”
CHAPTER 30
FAYE
The investigation is underway.
I send Alistair off to enquire about Claire and Jack Blackburn in the local shops, while I try to find their neighbour, Janice Tideswell. Janice is an avid Facebook user, and there are a few photos of her proudly displaying the roses in her front garden, trowel in hand, and enough details of her house for me to potentially recognise it. Mock Tudor, large bay window, red front door.
