Enemy At The Window Page 3

  He pulled himself gingerly to his feet and walked into the lounge. He was never going to shake those images from his memory.

  ‘It’s all been some dreadful misunderstanding,’ he said, his voice weighed down with a sigh.

  ‘Bit more than a misunderstanding, mate. I mean, let’s face it, she tried to––’

  As usual, Rick had rushed into a sentence without thinking about how it would end. He stopped himself in time and changed the subject. ‘You back at work, yet?’

  ‘No. Next week. It’ll be good to get back. Establish some kind of normality. Just mornings to start with, then I can collect Ben from nursery and make sure I spend lots of time with him.’

  ‘Have you seen her? What’s the latest?’ Rick kept picking. He wouldn’t let it lie.

  Daniel sank onto the sofa and watched Ben setting wooden blocks on top of each other. Since his brush with death, it was hard to let Ben out of his sight.

  ‘She’s in a secure unit for the time being. I’ve asked to see her but the specialist said leave it a day or two. She’s seen various doctors, psychiatrists. She’s on some sort of antipsychotic tranquillisers.’

  ‘Ah, man, that’s tough.’

  ‘Well, it’s the right place for her at the moment.’ He pulled a cushion onto his lap and cradled it. ‘It’s not so much that I ended up in intensive care – it’s the fact that she could attack me in the first place. That’s what really hurts.’

  ‘Too true, mate. It isn’t how Sophie is… who she is…’

  ‘I don’t know where she got the idea from in the first place.’

  ‘Idea?’

  ‘She got it into her head I was seeing someone else. Claimed she’d found things to prove it.’

  ‘What things? Did she show you?’

  Daniel rubbed his forehead. ‘No, that’s the point. When I asked to see all this so-called evidence, she didn’t have a thing. She raked through all my gear, my wardrobe, my cupboards. She pored over my phone, my laptop, convinced there was something there, but she couldn’t come up with anything at all. It was all in her head.’

  The line crackled for a moment and Daniel wondered if they’d been cut off.

  ‘She’s clearly got problems, mate. We just didn’t see it.’

  The wooden tower toppled over with a clatter and gave Ben a shock. He looked like he was about to cry, but instead he dragged the blocks to one side and started again. Daniel leaned forward and ruffled his son’s hair.

  ‘You spoken to Sophie’s friends about it?’ Rick asked.

  ‘One of her close friends, Greta, is also a work colleague. Seeing her every day, she’d started getting worried about her, but Greta never bothered to mention it to me.’

  Rick tutted.

  Daniel stared into space. How could he ever put this behind him? He’d seen a vicious, vile side to Sophie that would be impossible to erase.

  ‘You sleeping okay?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Well, we need to get that sorted. I’ve got some fabulous tablets.’

  Daniel shook his head at the phone. ‘Nah, I don’t like taking anything.’

  ‘These are just herbal, over the counter jobs. Definitely not addictive. Honestly, they’re brilliant. I’ll get you some.’

  Daniel let the air out of his nose in a sigh. ‘Maybe. I’ll think about it.’

  He hadn’t meant to confide in Rick to this extent, but he’d felt so emotional and lost lately, it was a relief to pour it out to a familiar voice.

  ‘What you need is something to take your mind off it,’ said Rick. Daniel braced himself. ‘Like a night at the Stag’s Head.’

  ‘That’s the last thing I need!’ he said, unable to keep the smile out of his voice. Since they’d been teenagers, Rick’s answer to everything was to have a drink.

  ‘Oh, mate, come on, it’ll stop you being miserable. How about tomorrow night? A couple of bevvies, just the two of us.’

  ‘It’s a bit soon.’

  ‘Next week, then, once you’re back at work.’

  ‘I’m not sure I can get a babysitter. My mother’s been brilliant, but I can’t keep asking her. Not when she’s had Ben 24/7 so much, lately.’

  ‘Louise’ll do it. My sister, remember?’

  Rick’s sister must have been about seventeen when Daniel had last seen her. She was going out with a boy from Aberdeen and was trying to impress him by learning the bagpipes. She’d got about as far as making the bag wheeze.

  Rick had mentioned that she also lived in South London and was producing games for children, which seemed exactly the right job for someone with her natural leanings towards all things immature. She was similar to Rick in that respect – unruly and a bit silly – although he did recall she used to have a way with children. Always in demand as a babysitter, back then. Unlike most teenagers, she wasn’t afraid to clamber around on the floor and get her hands dirty.

  ‘She’d be stoked to look after Ben,’ said Rick. ‘And kids always love her.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ he said. ‘Only I don’t want Ben with someone he doesn’t know. Not when things have been so difficult.’

  ‘Get whatshername from next door to do it, then – she’s always around, isn’t she?’

  Daniel knew Rick was trying his level best. When the stabbing news first broke most of his friends and family rallied round to start with, but now that the ‘thinking of you’ cards had tailed off, he wondered how much of people’s concern had simply been curiosity.

  Rick, however, was one of the few who’d been several times to see him in hospital, even though Daniel was too sedated to speak to him. Rick was annoying, but at least he was making an effort.

  ‘Have a think about it,’ said Rick, when his option for a babysitter was met with silence. ‘Ring me back, okay?’

  Daniel put down the phone and watched Ben build his tower again. This time it looked like it was going to stay put.

  Yeah, maybe it’s time, he thought. Surely, the worst must be over by now.

  Chapter 6

  Sophie was lying in bed, sticky with sweat and drowning in feverish images. Pictures of Daniel, smiling, with blood oozing from his eyes, kept coming at her. Visions of Ben pushing her away, screaming at her and moments when their two faces blurred together into one; pointing at her, shouting at her, laughing at her. She’d tried putting her pillow at the other end of the bed to avoid facing the harsh square of light in the middle of the door, but the pillow kept slipping onto the floor. I’ve got to blank all this out. I’m going to go mad if I don’t sleep.

  The next afternoon she was granted stronger sleeping tablets, which took her to a foggier place during the day, but with the redemption of blackout at night. The daylight hours became waking dreams, where she shuffled from place to place and watched her feet move across the floor as though they belonged to someone else.

  You’ve done something terrible, unimaginable.

  She could hear the words in her head, but she didn’t dare hold on to them. They were just sounds, like someone humming beside her ear.

  Walk away.

  She wandered into small corners in her mind and allowed the visions she found there to carry her along.

  Best not to think too much.

  Or try to work anything out.

  ‘Are you going somewhere?’

  It was Annie, the nurse who’d been assigned to her, popping up everywhere, acting like Sophie was a shoplifter.

  ‘I wish I was,’ Sophie replied.

  Annie was short and squat; her black hair that flat unnatural colour women get from trying to cover grey. It was thick and blunt-cut, giving it the texture of brushes you find inside a letterbox. Sophie kept finding her gaze returning to the furry boil on her chin.

  ‘Why don’t you watch some television before your husband arrives?’ It was more like a command than a suggestion.

  Sophie had forgotten Daniel was coming. How could that have slipped her mind? Her memory had been dreadful lately. It was like trying to hol
d water in her hand – everything kept slipping through her fingers.

  Annie pointed in the direction of the dayroom and Sophie had no energy to protest otherwise. She looked like the sort of woman you’d find teaching hockey in a girl’s school, thought Sophie, the kind who’d force you to take cold showers in the middle of winter.

  Daniel knew he couldn’t keep putting it off. Greta had rung to say his wife was in better spirits and was prepared to see him – and today was as good a day as any. He left Ben with Edith, the super-reliable next-door neighbour, and drove over to Moorgreen Hospital in the rain.

  As the shiny, wet street corners shuttled past, he began to reflect on living in East Sheen. It was upmarket, innocent and with a lively character of its own. Rather like Sophie herself, he thought, before remembering that what he thought he knew about her was wholly out of date.

  Buying a property there had been Sophie’s idea and they had a running joke about it being ‘Sophie’s Choice.’ It was mainly because she’d put in the lion’s share of the vast amount of money required. Daniel would never have considered the area, otherwise.

  Sophie worked as an editor at Otterbornes, a prestigious publisher of children’s books, but although the salary was very respectable, it wasn’t the reason for her wealth. She would readily admit to being spoilt growing up. With a diplomat for a father and a mother well-paid as a fashion designer, she’d had her every material whim catered for: a doll’s house at the age of five, a swimming pool at seven, a horse at sixteen. Things.

  Sadly, however, the one thing she wanted more than any other was her father’s attention, his presence, his love, and it was the one thing she never got. He was always away, travelling. It gave her the muted sadness that Daniel saw in her the first time they met. From the start, he’d made it his mission to be the one to change that. He’d been determined to wipe away the melancholy and wrap her in devotion, intimacy, a sense of family and shared joy.

  On her account, they didn’t even need a mortgage for the double-fronted period property, but she never mentioned the fact to anyone. In her eyes, everything was shared. If they ever had to divide it up in proportion to their actual contributions, he’d barely own the shed, the size of a small wardrobe, in the back yard.

  The windscreen wipers batted the rain from side to side in an uneven rhythm as he got caught up in traffic near Morden Underground station. Since the attack, Daniel’s feelings about the house itself had changed. For one thing, the interior seemed darker, seemingly robbed of daylight and even though it was early spring, he was forever having to switch on the lights.

  A thickset male nurse guided Daniel into a small private room and he was asked to wait. When the door opened again, he gaped at her, his mouth open. He barely recognised her. She had on a loose-fitting tracksuit and trainers; items she never wore. She tottered slightly as though the ground was sloping away from her and she’d lost weight, making her already size eight frame appear verging on anorexic.

  When they first got married, Sophie used to wander around the house in a permanent state of virtual undress, in flimsy, see-through négligées. It had him constantly aroused as she brushed a chiffon sleeve or loose belt against him with a coy smile. Everything about her was sexy. The way she swung to one hip to wash the dishes, sashayed upstairs or leaned over to draw the curtains. Even her handwriting was seductive, which curled and looped like the lettering on a luxury box of chocolates.

  But there was none of that allure now. She looked like an older sister who’d spent weeks lost at sea.

  She tilted her head as if listening to the rain outside. She’d always been excited by heavy rain. She said a storm always took her back to when she was small. She would sit with her mother in their conservatory while raindrops pattered to a hammering din on the glass, then slid down making feathery waves into the gutters. Even recently, at the sound of rain, she’d stand wherever she was, indoors or out, to listen as it crescendoed into a roar, revelling in the noise.

  Now, she seemed slightly flustered by the commotion.

  They were directed to sit on hard wooden chairs on either side of a yellow table, the functional type you’d find in a canteen at school. Gearing himself up emotionally for his visit had wiped him out and he felt ill at ease. Intimidated by the lack of privacy. The over-large mirror on the wall was bound to be two-way so the powers that be could watch their every move.

  They’re worried she’ll try again.

  He closed his eyes as if repelling the idea that she was some kind of threat.

  Once left alone, she spoke first. ‘You’ve got to get me out of here.’

  Daniel bit his bottom lip, uncertain how to respond.

  ‘You need help,’ he said. ‘You tried to kill me.’ His voice came out matter of fact, as though he was addressing a child.

  ‘I’m not sure what happened,’ she said, faltering. ‘I admit I… well, I’m not certain what I did, but––’

  Daniel slowly unbuttoned his shirt and slid the linen to one side. ‘This is what you did, Sophie.’

  She snatched a breath and pulled back with a shudder.

  ‘That was me?’ She leant forward, peering at the scar as if it had a life of its own, then sat upright. ‘You were having an affair,’ she snapped.

  ‘No. Whatever you think you found, it had nothing to do with me.’ He couldn’t remember how many times he’d uttered those words in the months before she attacked him. They might as well be on a recorded loop.

  ‘The evidence speaks for itself,’ she said firmly. ‘You were seeing someone. Maybe you met her on one of your weekends away for work – I don’t know. I refuse to say her name, but it was there on the letter. A real person. A woman you slept with. Kept sleeping with. I don’t want to hear you deny it any more.’

  Daniel folded his arms over his open shirt and shook his head.

  ‘You’re ill, darling. There was no letter. No lingerie I’m supposed to have bought. We looked through my text messages, my emails – there was nothing there. You were stressed, you got yourself into a state and went for me.’

  Daniel cupped his hands over his eyes. The heating was on too high and he wanted to get out. Even if he had been having an affair, how could she not see that nearly killing him with a carving knife was far worse? How could she be getting things so out of proportion?

  ‘I need time to sort myself out, that’s true,’ she said. ‘My head’s not right and I keep getting in a muddle. But I know what I saw. And I also need time to think seriously about our future. My future with Ben.’

  He couldn’t believe they were speaking to each other like this. Until a few months ago, Sophie had been the sweetest, gentlest person he had ever known. When she came home from work, she’d look at him in the same way people do when they spot their suitcase on an airport carousel. She’d fling her arms around him like a toddler whenever he walked into a room, kicking off her shoes to make him lift her off the floor. She’d be eager to sit close when they ate supper together, unable to speak without touching him, rattling on about her day, energised and fresh in his presence. Every day. Never anything less than innocent and loving.

  Then everything changed. She started turning her back on him, avoiding him, slamming doors, yelling at him, slinging insults and abuse.

  It had been like watching milk left out of the fridge slowly curdling. Over time she had thickened, hardened and eventually become offensive.

  Then this. Blood. Intensive care. A psychiatric hospital. The entire situation was unthinkable.

  ‘We can talk. We can work this out. I––’ He had his tongue poised between his teeth, about to say I love you, but the words wouldn’t come out. A hollow silence took their place.

  ‘I need to see Ben,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll bring him next time I come.’

  ‘No. Not you. Get someone else to bring him. Not unless you stop lying to me.’

  He dragged at his hair. ‘I don’t know what else to say to you.’

  ‘Well, that’s
it, then.’ Her chair shot back and tipped over with a clatter. ‘If you’re not going to be an adult about this, if you’re going to keep on pretending the affair never happened, then I’m not going to speak to you. At all.’

  With that, she swivelled on the spot, then stormed towards the door.

  Chapter 7

  Shareen was lying on the bed when Sophie came in. She burped, then turned towards the wall. There was a smell like bad eggs.

  ‘I’ve got the squits. I shouldn’t use the bog for a bit, if I were you.’

  Sophie wanted to scream. She was convinced Shareen had been using her towels; they weren’t wet when she’d left the room. Now they were stuffed over the radiator, emitting steam. Her hairbrush was on the window ledge, too, not at the sink where she’d put it. She didn’t want to make a fuss, however, because she wasn’t sure what Shareen was capable of.

  ‘What you been up to?’ Shareen demanded, opening one eye.

  ‘Nothing.’

  Sophie wanted to stamp her feet, smash her fist into the wall and hurl the chair through the window. She wanted to toss this stupid girl out of bed and into the corridor. She wanted to lock the door, reclaim her privacy, find a way to sort her head out on her own. But there was not a trace of energy in her body for any of it. She could barely blink without feeling exhausted. It was all she could do to turn and silently leave the room again.

  ‘Anger management class – first floor.’ It was Annie creeping up on her again. It must be Wednesday. Sophie hadn’t realised another day had been and gone. She made her way to a room on the first floor. A woman with a strange accent and large feet stood at the front. Sophie looked around the circle and saw old, drawn faces on young bodies. This can’t be happening to me.

  She found an empty chair and sat staring at her hands, cupped together in her lap, and didn’t say a word. She hoped it might look like she was praying.

  In those moments, her head was filled with questions about her son. They batted backwards and forwards like a manic game of tennis. She wondered what he was doing; if he was playing with his Toy Story play phone; if he was wearing the new blue sailor-style trousers she’d bought him.