An Impossible Dilemma: A Psychological Thriller Novel (13 page)

“You didn’t eat any breakfast, and I’ll bet good money you didn’t have anything for lunch.”

I shrugged.

“You need to eat, Vic. If you’re not careful, you’ll be ill.” She scowled at me.

“I’m having some dinner, aren’t I? I can’t eat if I feel sick.”

Steph sighed, and a glance passed between her and Frank.

I walked to the back door and called Emily in from the garden.

“Aw, but it’s not dark yet.” She skidded to a stop on her trike.

“It won’t get dark until late, baby, because summer’s almost here. You can watch a few minutes of TV with Grandad after your bath.”

Steph had already left by the time Emily and I came back inside.

“She’s only looking out for you, lass,” Frank said.

“I know, but how can I tell her why I’ve got no appetite?”

“You can’t. She’s right about one thing, though. You will be ill if you keep this up. Your bones don’t have a lot of cover on them lately.”

I ignored him and led Emily up the stairs to run her bath.

Taps on full and bubble bath poured, I caught my reflection in the mirror. I did look gaunt, positively skeletal in fact. But I couldn’t face eating, and not just for the reasons I told Frank; I felt nauseous all the time.

Emily appeared with a handful of bath toys and threw them into the water.

“Hang on. Let me check it’s not too hot,” I said, dipping my fingers into the water before turning the taps off.

“Mummy.” Emily tried to bite me with the crocodile glove wash cloth.

I laughed. “Hey, cheeky.”

Then she turned and did the same to the toilet seat.

“A crocodile wouldn’t bite the toilet, silly,”

“He’s not biting the toilet, he’s getting my friend.”

“Is this the same friend who told you to steal Diane’s phone?”

Her arms dropped to her side, and she glanced at me warily.

“Well?”

Emily nodded and threw the crocodile back into the water.

“Daddy said he’s naughty and it’s not my fault.”

“Daddy said?”

“Uh-huh.”

I ran my fingers through my hair, scratching my head. Prickles ran down my spine, and my heartbeat hammered in my ears.

Emily climbed into the bath and began giggling and throwing bubbles to what I now knew to be her invisible friend.

I silently observed her. Worried about saying the wrong thing, knowing the problems she had.

I cleared my throat and crouched at the side of the bath, splashing one hand in the water.

“Em, what else did Daddy say?”

She shrugged one shoulder and continued giggling at something I couldn’t see.

“Emily!”

She turned to me. “He misses me and he’s happy I’m better.”

I nodded. “Okay. When did you see him?” The saliva in my mouth had dried up, making it a struggle to swallow the lump that had appeared in my throat.

“At night, when I’m sleeping.” She shrugged again as if her words were nothing unusual.

I chewed the inside of my cheek, pushing the outside of my cheek with my index finger to enable my teeth to get a firm hold. The metallic taste of blood spread across my tongue.

I’d prayed for another visit from Jon. Even in a dream, like before, was preferable to this nothingness. An intense jealousy of my five–year-old daughter’s visions or dreams consumed me. Whatever they were, I wanted them for myself.

I read Emily a story, tucked her up, and gave her a kiss. I left her whispering and giggling under the duvet.

Steph and Hector were buzzing around in the kitchen when I got downstairs. Frank sat at the dining table, which had been set for four. A plate of bread and butter had been put in the centre, along with salt, vinegar, and tomato sauce.

“Sorry, are you waiting for me?”

“No, not at all, we’ve only just got back. Hector was delayed at the bar. Poor Frank thinks his throat’s been cut, don’t you, Frank?”

“I’m looking forward to it, that’s for sure, lass,” Frank said, his knife and fork already in his hands.

“I got fish and chips, Vic. Sit yourself down while we dish up.”

My stomach growled with hunger pains, yet the sight of the food made me feel sick at the same time. I knew I would have to make a decent effort to put away my dinner with two members of the food police watching me.

“There you go, Frankie-boy. Get your old choppers around that little lot.” Steph placed a huge plate of food in front of him.

“Don’t give me that much. It’ll outface me straight away.” I panicked.

“I haven’t, I’ve given you a lady portion, but just eat what you can.” Steph handed me a smaller plate, and I sighed.

Hector produced a pot of tea and several cups before taking his seat next to Steph.

“Thank you, Hector.” I nodded.

“K-you’re welcome.” Hector smiled and looked at Steph for confirmation he’d got it right.

Steph nodded and stroked his neck and shoulder.

“How’s Emily after her hospital visit?” Steph asked, before filling her mouth with crispy battered fish.

I wiped my greasy lips on a paper serviette and nodded. “She seems fine, not at all bothered with the stealing episode. In fact, quite the opposite, and she just told me Jon has been visiting her in her dreams.”

Frank coughed, his fork dropping to his plate with a clatter.

Steph jumped up, wide-eyed, reached for the teapot, poured him a cupful and added the milk before speaking.

“You’re kidding me?”

I shrugged. “It’s what she said.”

“Probably a dream, do you think?” Steph asked. She had been scared of my mum.

“Yeah, I’m sure this is her way of coping.”

Frank, composed again, resumed eating.

“I can’t imagine losing someone close. I was just talking to a woman in the bar, while I waited for Hector, and her son has gone missing. She swears he’s dead.”

I gave a backwards nod and glanced at Frank. Our eyes locked. Icy fingers caressed the nape of my neck causing me to shudder.

“How awful,” I managed to say as I grabbed for my locket.

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Imagine not knowing where he is? That’s got to be the worst part.”

“Has she reported him missing?” Frank asked.

“Yeah, apparently the police are not interested. They know of him and reckon he’s probably committed a crime and is lying low.”

“He’s a bad ’un?” Frank raised his eyebrows.

Steph nodded. “Seems he is, but even so, you’d want to know where he is.”

“Probably as the police said, he’ll turn up when he’s good and ready.” My voice sounded a little quivery and I cleared my throat and began eating again.

My mind spun at this random piece of information. One we normally wouldn’t hear about.

I’d been watching the news and reading the local paper for any missing person’s investigations, but nothing. Now, through coincidence this information was delivered.

At least it confirmed Shane hadn’t mouthed off about his intentions. There was nothing to link him to us at all.

Chapter 16

I came in from the clinic to find a message from Doctor Wilson. He’d left his direct dial number, and asked me to call him.

My heart thudded in my chest as I dialled his number.

“Hi, Doctor Wilson, Victoria Lyons here.”

“Thank you for calling, Mrs Lyons. I’ve got Emily’s test results in front of me.”

“Yes?”

“Well, the most bizarre thing has happened.”

“What?” I held my breath, my heartbeat pumping in my head.

“For some unknown reason Emily’s results are normal.”

“Oh my God! What does that mean?” I felt behind me for the hall chair and lowered myself down into it.

“I don’t know. I would like to do some more tests in another couple of months, if that’s okay. But as far as I can see, it’s as Emily said. She’s better.”

“How can this …”

“I’m just as baffled as you. This is the very last thing I expected the results to show. If I wasn’t such a science geek, I’d say it was a miracle.”

I felt terrible allowing him to be so excited but what choice did I have? I’d got myself into this and I needed to follow through.

“My advice to you would be to try and not raise your hopes too much at this stage. The problems were definitely there before and although her symptoms seem to have gone for now, they may return just as quickly. I’m looking forward to the next round of tests, and pray for the same outcome.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I’m blown away. I’m sorry, I can’t speak right now.”

“I understand. I’ve had the morning to try to process the information myself, and I’m still astounded. I’ll send you an appointment date in the post for six weeks or so. Let’s hope, in the meantime, she continues to do well. If there is the slightest sign of deterioration, please ring for an earlier appointment.”

I hung up. It was as I’d imagined—no explanations, but no accusations neither.

One more set of tests in two months. Hopefully, Emily would still be all right. It had been playing on my mind that in the trials, the patient’s response only lasted up to six months. Up to six months! Which meant anything less than six months, but not longer than.

This piece of information didn’t occur to me when deciding what we would do with Shane. I didn’t even tell Frank about it.

So far all the lies—the murder, the disposal of Shane’s body, the stress, the sleepless nights—and we would possibly only get six months’ relief at best.

***

As I walked out of the bathroom, I almost jumped out of my skin.

Steph sat on the landing, her back against the wall.

“What the …”

“Okay, Vic. This has gone on long enough. I think you need to go see the doctor.”

“I’m okay.”

“My arse, you’re okay.”

“I see. So that’s your professional opinion, is it?” I giggled.

“Seriously, Vic. You’re nothing but a bag of bones and I’m worried about you. You hardly ever eat, and when you do, you chuck it right back up again.”

“It’s nothing, just nerves.”

“The doctor will be able to give you something for your nerves, if that’s what it is.”

“What do you mean, ‘if’ that’s what it is?” I wobbled my head as my voice mimicked hers.

“Well, I’m not so sure,” she said.

“About what?”

“I think you’ve got bulimia,” she said, standing up tall—well, as tall as she could for a teeny five foot woman. Placing her hands on her hips, she glared at me.

“Oh no, not
the
look
, Steph.” I laughed. We’d always teased her about the way she could make a grown man quake in fear with
the look
.

“I’m serious.”

“I don’t have bulimia, Steph.” I sighed.

“Humour me. Let’s go to see the doc.” She made a puppy dog face. “Please? For me …”

“Fine!” I said, throwing my hands in the air.

I couldn’t see the regular locum, who, ironically, was off sick. So an appointment was made for that afternoon with his replacement, another locum.

“I’m coming with you,” Steph said, once I’d finished my rant.

“What for?”

“Because I don’t trust you.”

I shook my head. “Whatever.”

***

Doctor Clifton turned out to be a slight dark-haired South African woman. I’d always preferred to have a female doctor, but since living at Frank’s I hadn’t had much of a choice.

“So what can I do for you, Mrs Lyons?”

“I need something for my nerves, doctor,” I said. “Since my husband died a few months ago, I’ve not been able to eat or sleep very much.”

“I see,” she said, reading something on the screen in front of her.

“And she throws up all the time,” Steph said.

Doctor Clifton nodded and continued reading. “It says here that you take a contraceptive pill,” she said, glancing up at me.

“Not any more. I stopped it after Jon died.”

“I see, and when was your last period?”

I shrugged. Panic setting in. “I can’t remember.”

“Do you mind hopping onto the table for me, Mrs Lyons?” she said, nodding to the examination table behind us.

The table was covered in a white cotton sheet which had been partially covered by a length of blue paper. I climbed up and lay flat, my mind in a whirl.

Doctor Clifton washed her hands, lifted my orange knitted top and began to palpate my stomach. Her eyes were fixed on the wall to the left of me, concentrating. She then pulled my top back down.

“Okay, Mrs Lyons, you can get down again, now,” she said and re-washed her hands.

I sat, hardly breathing, waiting for her to return to her seat.

“How long ago did your husband die, Mrs Lyons?”

“Over three months,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

“And when was the last time you had sexual intercourse?”

“The night before he died.” I quickly pushed the image of Shane, heaving on top of me, out of my mind.

“I will get you to take a pregnancy test just to be certain, but from what I can tell, I’d say your husband left you a parting gift, Mrs Lyons. You’ll need to have a scan to confirm exact dates, but I’d say you are at least three months pregnant.”

It was as though time had stopped along with my heartbeat and my breathing.

I vaguely became aware of Stephanie pulling me into her arms, tears running down her face.

The doctor continued talking, but I didn’t have a clue what she said.

Moments later, I’d been shuffled into a toilet cubicle holding a plastic container.

I sat on the lid of the toilet, trying to gather my thoughts.

Just over three months ago, Jonathan and I had made love. And I would have given anything to know that we’d made a baby to mark that last precious night together.

However, there had been less than a week between that wonderful night and the night of his funeral, the night Shane raped me.

I knew that wasn’t enough of a gap to make any difference on even the most detailed of scans.

I filled the container and met Steph in reception.

“Someone else has gone in, and she said to wait here,” Steph said, smiling at me tentatively. “How are you feeling?”

“Shocked. Numb.” I shook my head. “How did I not realise, Steph?”

“Let’s face it; things haven’t exactly been normal lately, have they?”

“I know, but it’s just the same as when I was pregnant with Emily. As soon as she mentioned my period, I knew.”

“I’m so pleased for you,” Steph said, and gripped my hand again. “Are you excited?”

I shrugged. “Not really. Things are hard enough without a baby.”

“You’re joking. I thought you’d have been over the moon.”

Doctor Clifton came into reception and beckoned me to follow her.

“I feel so silly, Doctor. It’s so obvious now.”

She smiled. “Sometimes it’s difficult to see the very things that are right in front of your face.”

She tested the urine, purely a formality at this stage, and nodded. “Okay then, I’ll arrange for you to have a scan but judging by your dates and my examination, it seems we know exactly when it happened.” She smiled.

***

That night, as I lay in a half-asleep slumber, Doctor Wilson’s words suddenly struck me.

“If you have more children together, then yes, they will certainly have this condition.”

I stifled a scream as I jumped out of bed. How could I have forgotten something as important as that? Blood rushed to my head and I staggered backwards, my legs bumping into the mattress and I slumped back down onto the end of the bed.

Since finding out about the baby, I’d been repeating a mantra over and over in my head,
the-baby-is-Jon’s-the-baby-is-Jon’s-the-baby-is-Jon’s
. The thought of this new life growing inside me having anything at all to do with Shane made me feel physically sick. I’d always been against abortion, but in this instance what other choice did I have?

Family meant more to me than anything. After my mother died, I saw the world in an altered light. I felt different from the rest of my friends.

I now knew parents could
die
.

This knowledge made me vulnerable where my dad was concerned and when he too died, leaving me orphaned at an early age, I felt lost and rootless for a long time.

Then Jonathan came to my rescue.

He became my family and I embraced Frank as a substitute father. My second chance of being part of a normal family was complete when Emily arrived.

Now, my perfect life had crashed and burned. Jon was dead. Emily would soon follow unless a miracle occurred. And a tiny glimmer of hope in the shape of an innocent baby seemed doomed before it had chance to be take its first breath.

The scan had been booked for next week. At least then we might find out for definite who the father is, depending on the due date they give me.

Steph had been acting strange, speaking to me in short, clipped sentences.

I knew why.

She thought I should be overjoyed about the baby. In her romance-addled brain Jonathan was reaching out to us from the grave.