“No way.” He was shaking his head and sneering at me. “Not happening.”
“This is my house, not yours, and I want you to go.”
“You rent the fucking place, it’s not yours.”
“Exactly I rent it, not you, so unless you want me to call the landlord and the police, then get a bag and leave.”
I moved toward the front door and pulled down the handle. I was about to pull it open when Josh slammed a hand against it.
“I’m not leaving,” he insisted.
“Yes you are.” I held my shoulders back and straightened my spine, trying desperately to appear brave and confident, but inside I was a quivering wreck, scared of what he might do to me or Frankie.
I couldn’t believe how quickly things between us had evaporated. How he’d turned from a miserable, joyless man to someone who would throw things at me and threaten to smack my son. A man who in the space of a few minutes I’d become afraid of.
I pulled on the handle again and yanked at the door, managing to get it open. I had to get him out tonight, because this was the last time my son would be a witness to anything like this. I’d seen enough documentaries, read enough newspaper articles to know that this was merely the beginning and he would only get more violent as time went on. I loved my son too much to risk that, and I certainly didn’t love Josh enough to give him an opportunity to either redeem himself or prove me wrong.
“Please Josh,” I said, my voice low and strong. “Get a bag and leave.”
We watched each other warily as a chill blew in through the gap in the doorway, all the time I had Frankie at my back, holding on tightly. Finally, after what felt like hours, Josh’s nostrils flared and he pushed past both myself and Frankie and stomped up the stairs.
“Is he really going, Mummy?” Frankie asked, his voice quiet and timid.
“Yes sweetheart.” I turned and picked him up. He was tall and broad for his age, but I didn’t care how heavy he felt, he was staying in my arms until Josh had left.
After only a few minutes, he reappeared, now wearing a hoody and trainers with his joggers. On his shoulder was a sports bag, the zip only half closed as clothes spilled out. When he got to the bottom stair, Josh pushed everything inside the bag and pulled the zip fully closed.
“Don’t think you can come running to me when you realise you’ve made a mistake,” he said, pointing a finger right in my face. “Because I won’t want to know.”
“I won’t,” I replied, holding tighter onto my son.
“Fucking bitch,” Josh hissed and slammed out of the house.
As soon as the door closed, I turned the key in the lock and let out a huge sigh of relief. I put Frankie down and ran a hand over his head.
“Go upstairs,” I said. “You can get a book out for half an hour and I’ll bring up some hot chocolate, okay?”
He looked at me warily, finally nodding his head and running up the stairs. Halfway up, he stopped and turned to look down at me.
“Mummy, can I sleep with you tonight?”
I didn’t want him to be scared and think he needed to sleep with me, but if I was being honest, I needed it just as much.
I nodded. “Okay, just for tonight.”
When he disappeared, I rushed into the lounge to peek through the curtains to make sure Josh had really left. His car was gone from the driveway, which made me let out a huge sigh of relief, but then I saw a man dressed in jogging gear. He was standing on the road next to my car and looking at it, before glancing up the street. When he looked up at the house, my heart thudded rapidly, knowing something was wrong. Not thinking about whether it was the right thing to do or not, I rushed to the front door, unlocked and opened it.
“What’s the problem?” I called from my doorway.
The jogger looked up from my car and scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m really sorry,” he called. “But I think you need to see this.”
“Tell me.” There was no way I was going out there to stand next to a man who could turn out to be some sort of serial killer – although deep down I knew it was probably something to do with Josh.
“Some guy just smashed into your car,” he said, walking towards the drive. “He was in a white Audi. I saw him pull off your drive and then ram yours. This is your car?” He nodded his head toward my little red car.
“Yes,” I replied weakly. “It’s mine.”
The jogger continued up the drive and it was only as he stopped about three feet away that I recognised him. Of all the people to be jogging past my house when Josh lost it, it had to be Elijah Cooper, Sam’s brother.
