Enemy At The Window Page 4

  Who is taking care of you?

  Whose neck are your little arms reaching out for?

  Are you missing me?

  She felt a tear stray down her cheek and quickly brushed it away.

  She might be getting her days mixed up and forgetting things, but one thing was clear. Although she was being given sedatives and sleeping pills, her mind was far sharper than it was. At the beginning, none of her thoughts were moving in straight lines; they were firing off in tangents all over the place, like the silver balls inside a pinball machine.

  Now, she was more in control.

  Got to stay strong.

  Got to keep my head together and work out what on earth has been happening to me.

  And most important – I’ve got to get out of here.

  Chapter 8

  Daniel wondered if anyone could tell that today was his first attempt to pretend his life was just the same as it was before.

  In many ways, he was surprised he still existed. Death had hovered like a bee outside his open window in intensive care. It had buzzed and circled around, poised to come in – then for some unknown reason, had thought better of it and flown away.

  Leave the house, walk through the side streets to the Lion Gate at Kew, then through the gardens to the laboratory. That’s all he had to do. He’d done it a hundred times before, but right now it felt like a new challenge he’d never previously attempted.

  Since he’d been discharged from hospital, Daniel had rarely left the house. He hadn’t felt strong enough to see what the outside world looked like. His mother had driven over regularly to collect Ben when what little get-up-and-go he had fizzled out – and life had passed him by.

  Before he left that morning, he glanced around to see if he was leaving the place reasonably tidy. He wasn’t a hoarder, nor was he messy, but he did have a tendency to put things in the wrong place. Scatterbrained, Sophie called it. She was always teasing him about it; the way things migrated from room to room.

  ‘A comb will start off in the bedroom,’ he’d overheard her say to a friend, ‘then make its way via the bathroom, glove compartment of the car, to the kitchen and shed within twenty-four hours.’

  He locked the front door, opened the gate and took those first steps. It was one of those mid-March days that signalled the start of spring; the sun low in the sky, taking the chill off the air. There was barely any breeze.

  He was looking forward to getting back into a routine; part-time to start with, leaving Ben at the nursery first thing and picking him up mid-afternoon. He had plans to take him to the local park, the pool, the zoo – give him the time of his life. His son had suffered enough during this ridiculous debacle and it was time to put that right.

  Kew was quiet when he arrived. The lake inside Victoria Gate opened out in front of him, the palm house behind it, looking like a giant glass lampshade. As he made his way to the laboratory block, thick banks of daffodils and crocuses ran alongside the path and trees were already fleshing out with green shoots and early blossoms. It felt like the promise of a new beginning.

  As he entered the lab, he wondered if people would notice anything different about him. Would they spot the line of rolled flesh under his shirt? Pick up the musty disinfected smell of someone who’d spent too many days embalmed in bed sheets?

  The first person he recognised was Jayne. It was a good start. She was a reserved, respectful woman who wasn’t going to make a fuss. Nor would she probe him for details, then metaphorically smear his private life all over the walls of the canteen.

  ‘Take a look at your desk,’ she said with a grin. ‘It’s the tidiest it will ever be.’

  He laughed. The department had a running joke about how absent-minded he was. They found it amusing that he could be so meticulous with his research, but so woolly-headed with everything else.

  ‘Cup of tea?’ she said.

  ‘I do love it when you say those three magic words,’ he said, as if he’d never been away.

  Daniel hoped his smile conveyed his gratitude for her low-key welcome. No big hugs, no wide eyes or honey-coated platitudes.

  Jayne had a fondness for black leggings and dainty Laura Ashley smocks that made him think of summer picnics. By now, she was noticeably pregnant. She carried the foetus high under her ribcage and stroked and patted the bump, unselfconsciously. Sophie, he recalled, had been consumed by never-ending nausea during her pregnancy with Ben. It became a condition to be endured. Jayne, on the other hand, appeared to take it all completely in her stride. She seemed to envelop the unborn child, becoming one with it, carrying on as usual without any limitations or side effects.

  As he flicked on his computer, waiting for the kettle to boil in the nearby alcove, he recalled how stunned they both were when Sophie found out she was expecting.

  They were in the bathroom and he’d caught her expression in the mirror as he cleaned his teeth. She was sitting on the lid of the toilet holding her stomach as if something grave had happened.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked her reflection.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she whispered. She lifted the pregnancy stick she’d been holding out of sight.

  He turned round to face her. ‘It’s positive?’

  ‘This is the third test I’ve done. I had to be sure.’

  He stared at her, ready to sweep her up and smother her in utter ecstasy. But her frown made him hesitate.

  ‘I’m on the pill – I can’t be pregnant.’

  The kettle clicked off, shaking Daniel back to the present.

  ‘No one’s used it,’ said Jayne, handing him a mug with a teddy bear on it, the words I love my daddy written on the side. ‘I made sure of that.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, holding her gaze so she’d know he really meant it. He pressed the warm mug against his breastbone and closed his eyes briefly at the memory of Ben’s first breath. Then allowed himself to relish the way his son had unexpectedly – and in an all-encompassing way – given Daniel’s world new meaning.

  He could practically hear Sophie crooning the words: Ben – our most precious treasure. Nevertheless, those words seemed to belong to a lifetime ago.

  Jayne took his hand and placed it under hers over her bump. It had grown considerably since he’d last seen her. ‘How long will you stay… before?’

  ‘I’m seven months now. I’ll give it another three weeks and see. I’m on a no-lifting regime and everyone’s been very good about it.’

  ‘I’m on that regime, too,’ he joked, pointing to his left side, trying to look flippant.

  ‘Martin said you’ll be following up the data from the Andes trip.’

  He nodded, as they wandered back to their desks. Martin, their boss, had been very understanding about his return to work, letting Daniel dictate his hours and arranging regular check-ins to see how he was getting on.

  ‘By the way,’ she said, ‘just so you know, Frank finally left me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It didn’t surprise me. He spent too long pretending to be interested, but he never really wanted… this.’ She rubbed the bump, as if to console it.

  ‘I’m really sorry.’

  He meant it. It seemed absurd that any man would want to walk away from her. Then he realised that people’s senseless behaviour shouldn’t shock him anymore.

  ‘Don’t tell anyone will you? I don’t want people fussing.’

  ‘Of course not.’ He felt a warm glow that came with being trusted. It made him see how much his self-esteem had been shattered by recent events.

  He took a sip of tea. No one else at work knew how to make a decent strong cuppa – and she remembered he took one sugar.

  ‘You never know how things are going to turn out, do you?’ she said. The question referred to her situation, but equally applied to his. ‘One minute you’re pootling along a country lane admiring the view, the next you’re in the fast lane on a motorway, driving the wrong way… and you don’t remember how you got there.’

/>   With that, she wandered off to her own desk.

  Daniel couldn’t agree more. Just seven months ago the ardour between him and his wife had burned like a cauldron. Sex, for her, was an incredible game she wanted to play over and over, where the rules shifted and the rewards got better.

  ‘Hmm, you smell so good,’ he recalled her whispering, as she buried her face into the creases in his body. She seemed to love chasing the different perfumes on his skin, as if his frame was a huge platter covered with sumptuous fruits.

  Then everything collapsed. Almost overnight, she closed down and refused to let him touch her or see her naked. She withheld everything and when he asked her what was wrong, she huffed and puffed about how he should know and how it was all his fault.

  Daniel found himself playing with the paperknife beside his computer and quickly let it go, as if it was scorching hot.

  The rest of the morning was easy, as he lost himself in maps, figures and micro-slides of moss and lichen. Getting to Kew, it turned out, had been the hardest part.

  ‘Okay being back?’ said Jayne, as she saw him leave, just after one o’clock.

  ‘Looks like it’s a good day. A very good day,’ he said.

  As soon as he walked away, Daniel realised he’d never be able to make statements like that again without wondering if he’d spoken too soon.

  Chapter 9

  ‘Mrs Duke, there’s someone to see you,’ said Annie, looking pleased with herself.

  Sophie had been waiting days for this moment. Aching to hold him. She pressed her sticky palms down her skirt and smoothed back her hair.

  ‘Do I look all right?’ she said.

  ‘Perfect.’

  A woman entered the room, holding a small boy on her hip.

  ‘Ben! Sweetheart!’ Sophie rushed over to greet him. Greta handed him over and stood back.

  ‘Mummy, Mummy,’ said Ben, burying his face in Sophie’s neck. She held him in a tight embrace, then rocked and bounced him in her arms.

  ‘Thank you, Greta. This is really kind.’

  Greta smiled, while shifting her balance from one foot to the other. She didn’t seem to know whether to sit, stand or leave them alone.

  ‘I’ll give you some time together,’ she said, backing away towards the coffee trolley. Sophie found a chair by the window and sat down. Ben pulled something out of his pocket.

  ‘Look, I got this,’ he said. ‘It’s a Well card… Daddy and me did it.’ There were lumpy multi-coloured flowers on the front and big letters inside which read Get well soon, Mummy. XXX

  She swallowed the tight ball in her throat.

  ‘I did the kisses, too.’ He proudly pointed to them, as if they were the best bit. He went on to explain where he’d been going with Daddy and Granny and what he’d been doing at nursery. It wasn’t long before he asked the big question.

  ‘When are you coming home, Mummy?’

  Sophie pursed her lips. ‘Soon, I think darling. Soon.’

  ‘You’re not very sick,’ he said, staring into her face. ‘You’re not in bed.’

  ‘Mummy is sick in a… hidden kind of way. It’s kind of inside.’

  ‘Which part?’ He looked at her chest and stomach, as if assessing where the problem might be.

  Suddenly, Sophie could barely breathe. She felt hot and flustered, as though someone had wrapped her entire body in a tight plastic bag. She looked up in panic. Greta caught her eye and hurried over.

  ‘I think Mummy’s tired now,’ she said, taking the boy in her arms. Sophie stood up, swaying, holding her forehead with one hand and clinging to Ben’s arm with the other.

  ‘No, don’t take him away. I just need a break.’

  Greta handed Ben to Annie then put her arm round her friend, guiding her to an armchair.

  ‘Take some deep breaths, you’ll be okay.’

  Sophie tried that, only the panic didn’t pass. She gripped the edge of the chair, slowly drowning.

  ‘Listen, Sophie, I need to tell you… I’m going to Spain with Jerry for a couple of weeks, so I won’t be able to bring Ben in for you. I’m really sorry.’

  ‘Oh… don’t worry,’ she muttered, hearing her own words as if they came from the mouth of a normal, composed person.

  All too soon their time was up.

  ‘Say goodbye to Mummy until next time,’ said Annie, trying to make his arm flap in a wave, but Ben was wriggling to get free.

  ‘Mummy… want Mu-um-mee…’ Ben reached out, his face crumpling. Sophie leant against the wing of the chair and felt the room spinning. Ben started to wail, his cries getting louder and louder. Inside her head or in the room – she couldn’t tell which.

  ‘Ben, I’m sorry, so sorry… bring him back… bring my boy back… I’m so sorry… Ben…’

  Annie kept walking with him towards the exit, Greta behind her, all three of them looking back over their shoulders. Sophie pressed her hands over her ears and slid down the chair, desperate for the noise to end.

  Chapter 10

  It felt like a long time since he’d had a night out, though spending it with Rick wasn’t his ideal choice. He didn’t really consider Rick a friend, more someone he’d hung around with on and off since school. If he was honest, he probably wouldn’t have had anything to do with him, if it hadn’t been for a particular incident in the schoolyard when he was thirteen.

  Daniel had got used to being taunted for being a ‘pretty boy’, but on this occasion a lad with a switchblade pulled him into a headlock behind the gym block. In the scuffle, the boy took a chunk out of Daniel’s cheek with the blade. Rick barged in and saved his bacon before the maniac could take his eye out.

  To be fair, it wasn’t the only time Rick had stepped in to shield him from envious bullies. From that time onwards, going to school was like being fed to the lions every day. Being reserved and ‘in’ with the girls had a considerable downside.

  Daniel patted his pockets. They were full of useless junk: chewing gum, an old plaster, staples, receipts, a button from his coat.

  He tipped the handful out onto the hall table. All he needed were his house keys, wallet and phone in case there were any problems with Edith, who was looking after Ben. What else did he need? Oyster card. Sensible not to drive. He hadn’t drunk alcohol since the attack and didn’t know what sort of effect it might have on him. Best to play safe and go by bus, maybe get a taxi back. He felt ridiculous; as though he’d forgotten what going for a night out felt like.

  He got off the bus near Hammersmith Bridge and made his way to the walkway. Even though it was chilly, it was good to take in the fresh evening air, hear the wash of the tide coming in, get a feel for the buzz of the city, now commuters had reached the end of the week. Simple things he’d missed since his life hung in the balance.

  Once he reached the Thames, he turned back to look at the broad sweeping lines of the suspension bridge, repainted with its original colours of gold and sage-green after the IRA bombing in 2000. The lights sent shafts of orange into the water. He was tempted to dawdle and watch the reflections changing shape, but he didn’t want to be late.

  A thudding baseline reached him long before he opened the side door to the bar. Once inside, he felt like he’d fallen into a threshing machine, the boisterous throng churning him this way, then the other. He spotted chalky faces painted with the St George’s cross and it dawned on him that a big match must have just finished at Twickenham.

  He nearly turned round and walked out, but there was going to have to be a first time. He gritted his teeth as a surge of heat sucked him through a group of French supporters.

  ‘Hey! You made it,’ came Rick’s voice from the crowd. ‘What can I get you?’

  Daniel smiled to himself as he recognised the hotchpotch of styles that characterised the place. Pop art images hung on seventies style wallpaper and Bowie’s Ashes to Ashes played on the sound-system. Rick fitted in well here. With his winkle-picker boots and heavy metal ponytail, it was as though he was trying to relive his y
outh, but couldn’t remember which decade he grew up in. A safety pin dangled from one ear, which would have been put to better use holding up his sagging jeans.

  Daniel ordered a pint of Tangle Foot, determined it would last him the evening. They passed under domed lampshades in pink and green glass towards an empty table in the corner.

  ‘So, how was your first day back mowing lawns?’ asked Rick, bouncing up and down on the highly sprung seat. Rick knew full well that Daniel was involved in botanical research at Kew.

  ‘Not as hard as I thought, actually. It’s going to be fine.’

  Rick sighed. ‘Some people have it easy, man – snipping grass all day.’

  Daniel laughed. Rick’s sarcasm wasn’t new. His ability to shift seamlessly between sharp intelligence and utter childishness had always been his trademark trait.

  Rick slid a small box out of his pocket. ‘Give these a try,’ he said. ‘One before you go to bed. Have you sleeping like a baby.’

  ‘I can’t afford to slip into a coma,’ said Daniel, hesitantly. ‘I’ve got Ben to listen out for.’ He took the packet and tried to read the label, but it was too dark.

  ‘Two will knock you out, but one will let you drift off. Or try a half to start with.’ He snatched the packet back and dropped it into Daniel’s pocket.

  ‘Okay, cheers. I’m going to have to do something. I’m not getting a wink of sleep since the…’

  Rick pulled a face in sympathy. He’d stopped bouncing around, but was now fiddling with a beer mat, peeling off the layers one by one. Daniel couldn’t bear people who did that. It took all his willpower not to slap Rick’s wrist.

  ‘I’m thinking of moving on from Blakefield High,’ Rick declared.

  ‘Didn’t you only start there last September?’