Behind Closed Doors: The gripping debut thriller everyone is raving about (16 page)

‘Grace, Grace,’ Millie cried, as soon as we were on our own, ‘Jack bad man, very bad man. He push me, he push me down stairs!’

I put my finger against her mouth, warning her to be quiet, looking around me fearfully. The fact that the cubicles were empty was the first piece of luck I’d had for a very long time.

‘No, Millie,’ I whispered, terrified that Jack had come down the corridor anyway and was listening from outside the door. ‘Jack wouldn’t do that.’

‘He push me, Grace! At the wedding house, Jack push me hard, like this!’ She bumped me with her shoulder. ‘Jack hurt me, broke leg.’

‘No, Millie, no!’ I hushed. ‘Jack is a good man.’

‘No, not good.’ Millie was adamant. ‘Jack bad man, very bad man.’

‘You mustn’t say that, Millie! You haven’t told anybody, have you, Millie? You haven’t told anybody what you’ve just told me?’

She shook her head vigorously. ‘You say always tell Grace things first. But now I tell Janice that Jack bad man.’

‘No, Millie you mustn’t, you mustn’t tell anyone!’

‘Why? Grace not believe me.’

My mind raced, wondering what I could tell her. By now I knew what Jack was capable of and suddenly it made sense, especially when I remembered that he had
never wanted her to be our bridesmaid. ‘Look, Millie.’ I took her hands in mine, knowing that Jack would be suspicious if we were too long. ‘Shall we play a game? A secret game for just you and me? Do you remember Rosie?’ I asked, referring to the imaginary friend she invented when she was younger to take the blame for her own wrongdoings.

She nodded vigorously. ‘Rosie do bad things, not Millie.’

‘Yes, I know,’ I said solemnly. ‘She was very naughty.’ Millie looked so guilty that I couldn’t help smiling.

‘I not like Rosie, Rosie bad, like Jack.’

‘But it wasn’t Jack who pushed you down the stairs.’

‘Was,’ she said stubbornly.

‘No, it wasn’t. It was somebody else.’

She looked at me suspiciously. ‘Who?’

I cast desperately around for a name. ‘George Clooney.’

Millie stared at me for a moment. ‘Jorj Koony?’

‘Yes. You don’t like George Clooney, do you?’

‘No, don’t like Jorj Koony,’ she agreed.

‘He was the one who pushed you down the stairs, not Jack.’

A frown furrowed her brow. ‘Not Jack?’

‘No, not Jack. You like Jack, Millie, you like Jack very much.’ I gave her a little shake. ‘It’s very important that you like Jack. He didn’t push you down the stairs, George Clooney did. Do you understand? You have to like Jack, Millie, for me.’

She looked at me closely. ‘You scared.’

‘Yes, Millie, I’m scared. So please, tell me that you like Jack. It’s very important.’

‘I like Jack,’ she said obediently.

‘Good, Millie.’

‘But don’t like Jorj Koony.’

‘No, you don’t, you don’t like George Clooney at all.’

‘He bad, he push me down the stairs.’

‘Yes, he did. But you don’t have to tell people that. You mustn’t tell people that George Clooney pushed you down the stairs. That’s a secret, like Rosie. But you must tell people that you like Jack. That’s not a secret. And you must tell Jack that you like him. Do you understand?’

‘I understand.’ She nodded. ‘Must tell Jack like him.’

‘Yes.’

‘I tell him I not like Jorj Koony?’

‘Yes, you can tell him that too.’

She leant in closer to me. ‘But Jack Jorj Koony, Jorj Koony Jack,’ she whispered.

‘Yes, Millie, Jack is George Clooney but only we know that,’ I whispered back. ‘Do you see what I mean? It’s a secret, our secret, like Rosie.’

‘Jack bad man, Grace.’

‘Yes, Jack bad man. But that’s our secret too. You mustn’t tell anyone.’

‘I not live with him. I scared.’

‘I know.’

‘So what you do?’

‘I’m not sure yet, but I’ll find a solution.’

‘Promise?’

‘Promise.’

She looked closely at me. ‘Grace sad.’

‘Yes, Grace sad.’

‘Don’t worry, Millie here. Millie help Grace.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, hugging her. ‘Remember, Millie, you like Jack.’

‘I not forget.’

‘And you mustn’t say you don’t want to live with him.’

‘Won’t.’

‘Good, Millie.’

Outside, we found Jack waiting impatiently for us.

‘Why were you so long?’ he asked, giving me a long look.

‘I have period,’ said Millie importantly. ‘Need long time for period.’

‘Shall we go for a walk before we go back?’

‘Yes, I like walk.’

‘Maybe we can find an ice cream along the way.’

Remembering what I told her, she beamed at him. ‘Thank you, Jack.’

‘Well, she seems to have recovered some of her good humour,’ Jack remarked, as Millie skipped along in front of us.

‘When we were in the toilets, I explained that now that we are married, it is normal that you are always with me, and she’s understood that she has to share me with you.’

‘As long as that was all you said.’

‘Of course it was.’

Janice was waiting when we dropped her off at school an hour later. ‘You look as if you’ve had a nice time, Millie,’ she smiled.

‘Have,’ Millie agreed. She turned to Jack. ‘I like you, Jack, you nice.’

‘I’m glad you think so,’ he nodded, looking over at Janice.

‘But don’t like Jorj Koony.’

‘That’s fine by me,’ he told her. ‘I don’t like him either.’

And Millie had howled with laughter.

W
e’re going to Esther and Rufus’s tonight, and to see Millie tomorrow. I know for certain that we’re going because Janice took the liberty of phoning yesterday to check with Jack that we were. It seems she has a family lunch that she can’t miss and there is nobody to look after Millie if we don’t go, but, as we haven’t been for three weeks, I can’t help thinking it’s an excuse. Privately, I think she’s getting a little fed up of us not turning up to take Millie out, something I’m surprised Jack isn’t more careful about. At the expense of punishing me, he’s risking Janice questioning our commitment to Millie. But, as that can only be in my favour, I’m hardly going to point it out to him.

Maybe it’s because I know I’ll be seeing Millie tomorrow that I feel less stressed than usual about
going out tonight. Dinners at friends’ are the equivalent of walking through a minefield for me as I’m always worried about doing or saying something Jack will use against me. I’m pleased that I didn’t fall into the trap he set me by shading the words in Esther’s book, although I’ll have to be careful that I don’t say anything to her that he could misconstrue.

He took the book away with him when he brought me my breakfast this morning and I laughed to think of him scouring the pages in vain for anything untoward, a word or two scored through with my nail perhaps. It obviously annoyed him to find there was nothing because he spent most of the day in the basement, always a bad sign. And very boring for me. I prefer it when he moves around as it amuses me to chart his movements as he goes from one room to the next, trying to work out what he’s doing from the sounds that come to me from below.

I know he’s in the kitchen at the moment and that he’s just made himself a cup of tea because a few minutes ago I heard the sound of the kettle being filled with water, and the click when it switched itself off. I envy him. One of the many things I hate about being kept a prisoner is not being able to make myself a cup of tea whenever I want and I miss my kettle and the regular supply of teabags and milk I used to have. When I think about it now, Jack was a pretty generous jailer in the beginning.

From the way the sun is beginning to dip in the sky, I guess that it’s somewhere around six in the evening and, as we have to be at Esther’s for seven, Jack should be coming to let me into the bedroom next door, the one that used to be mine, so that I can get ready. Before long, I hear his footsteps on the stairs. A moment later, the key turns in the lock and the door swings open.

When I see him standing there, I feel as dismayed as I always do at how normal he looks, because surely there should be something—pointed ears or a pair of horns—to warn people of his evilness. He stands back to let me pass and I go eagerly into the room next door, glad to have the chance to dress up, to wear something other than black, something other than slippers on my feet. I slide open the wardrobe door and wait for Jack to tell me what to wear. When he doesn’t say anything, I know he is out to give me false hope by letting me believe I can wear what I want only to tell me to take it off again as soon as I’ve put it on. Maybe because I managed to see through his ruse with the book, I decide to gamble and choose a dress that I don’t want to wear at all, because it’s black. I take my pyjamas off. Uncomfortable though it is to have Jack looking on as I dress and undress, I can’t do anything about it as I lost my right to privacy long ago.

‘You’re beginning to look a bit scrawny,’ Jack remarks, as I put on my underwear.

‘Maybe you should bring me something to eat a little more often,’ I suggest.

‘Maybe I should,’ he agrees.

By the time I’ve got into the dress and am doing the zip up, I begin to think I’ve got it wrong.

‘Take it off,’ he says, as I smooth it down. ‘Wear the red one.’

I feign disappointment and take off the black dress, pleased that I’ve managed to outwit him, because the red is the one I would have chosen to wear. I slip it on and, maybe because of the colour, I feel more confident. I walk over to the dressing table, sit down in front of the mirror and look at myself for the first time in three weeks. The first thing I notice is that my eyebrows need plucking. Much as I hate having to do such rituals in front of Jack, I take my tweezers from the drawer and start perfecting my eyebrows. I had to negotiate the right to wax my legs, pointing out that I couldn’t look perfect if they were covered in hair, and, fortunately, he agreed to add a packet of wax strips to the minimal supply of toiletries he brings me each month.

When I’ve finished my eyebrows, I put on my make-up and, in honour of my dress, choose a brighter lipstick than usual. I stand up, walk over to the wardrobe and look through the shoeboxes, looking for my red-and-black high-heeled shoes. I slip them on my feet, take the matching bag off the shelf and hand it to him. He opens it and looks inside, checking that sometime over the past three weeks I haven’t managed to conjure up pen and paper out of thin air and transport a note through solid walls and into the bag. Passing it back to me, he
looks me up and down and nods approvingly, which ironically I know is more than some women get from their husbands.

We go downstairs and in the hall, he takes my coat from the cupboard and holds it open while I slip my arms into it. In the drive outside, he holds the car door for me and waits until I’m in. As he closes it behind me, I can’t help thinking it’s a shame he’s such a sadistic bastard, because he has wonderful manners.

We arrive at Esther and Rufus’s house and, along with a huge bouquet of flowers and a bottle of champagne, Jack hands Esther back her book, which I presume he’s returned to its original state. She asks me what I thought of it and I tell her what I told Jack, that it took me a while to get through it because it wasn’t the sort of book I would normally read. She seems overly disappointed, which makes me wonder if it was her who highlighted the words after all and, hiding my panic, I look at her anxiously. But there’s nothing on her face to suggest I might have missed an opportunity, and my heartbeat slows back down.

We go through to where Diane and Adam are waiting, Jack’s arm around my waist. I don’t know if it’s because of all the little courtesies he’s accorded me or because I managed to wear the dress that I wanted, but, by the time we’ve finished our drinks and are heading for the table, I’m beginning to feel as if I’m a normal woman on a normal night out instead of a prisoner out with her jailer. Or maybe it’s just that I’ve had too much
champagne to drink. As we wind our way through the delicious dinner that Esther has cooked for us, I’m aware of Jack watching me from across the table as I eat too much and talk a lot more than I usually do.

‘You look pensive, Jack,’ Esther remarks.

‘I was just thinking how much I’m looking forward to Millie coming to live with us,’ he says, in what only I recognise as a call to order.

‘It can’t be long now,’ she says.

‘Seventy-five days.’ Jack sighs happily. ‘Did you know that, Grace? Only another seventy-five days until Millie moves into her lovely red bedroom and becomes part of our family.’

I’d been about to take a sip of wine, but my heart plummets so fast that the glass comes to an abrupt stop in mid-air and a little slops over the side.

‘No, I didn’t know,’ I say, wondering how I could have sat there so complacently when time is running out, wondering how I could have forgotten, even for one minute, the desperate situation that I’m in. Seventy-five days—how could there be so little time left? More importantly, how am I ever going to be able to think of a way of escaping from Jack when I haven’t been able to in the three hundred and seventy-five days that must have passed since we came back from our honeymoon? Back then, even after the horror I had been through—and the ones that had faced me when we arrived at the house—I had never doubted that I would be able to escape before Millie came to live with us. Even when each attempt
I made failed, there had always been a next time. But I hadn’t tried for more than six months now.

‘Carry on, Grace,’ says Jack, nodding at my glass of wine and smiling at me. I stare back at him numbly and he raises his glass. ‘Let’s drink to Millie coming to live with us.’ He looks around the table. ‘In fact, why don’t we all drink to Millie?’

‘Good idea,’ Adam says, raising his glass. ‘To Millie.’

‘To Millie,’ everyone chimes, as I try to fight the panic rising inside me. Aware of Esther looking at me curiously I raise my glass quickly, hoping she won’t notice my shaking hand.

‘While we’re in a celebratory mood,’ Adam says, ‘perhaps you’d all care to raise your glasses again.’ Everybody looks at him in interest. ‘Diane is expecting a baby! A brother or sister for Emily and Jasper!’

‘What wonderful news!’ says Esther, as congratulations fly around the table. ‘Don’t you think so, Grace?’

To my horror, I burst into tears.

In the shocked silence that follows, the thought of the punishment that Jack is going to exact from me for my lack of self-control makes me cry even more. I try frantically to stem the tears but it’s impossible and, horribly embarrassed, I get to my feet, aware of Diane at my side, trying to comfort me. But it is Jack who takes me in his arms—because how can he do otherwise?—and holds me close, cradling my head against his shoulder, murmuring soothing words of comfort, and I cry even harder, thinking of how it could have been,
of how I had thought it would be. For the first time, I want to give up, to die, because suddenly everything is too much and there is no solution in sight.

‘I can’t go on like this,’ I sob to Jack, not caring that everyone is listening.

‘I know,’ he soothes. ‘I know.’ It’s as if he’s acknowledging that he’s gone too far and, for a split second, I actually believe that everything is going to be all right. ‘I think we should tell them, don’t you?’ He raises his head. ‘Grace had a miscarriage last week,’ he announces. ‘And I’m afraid it wasn’t the first.’

There’s a collective gasp and a few seconds of appalled silence before everyone starts talking at once in subdued voices, commiserating with us. Although I know that their kind words of sympathy and understanding relate to a miscarriage I’ve never had, I manage to derive enough comfort from them to be able to pull myself together.

‘I’m sorry,’ I mumble to Jack, hoping to dilute the anger I know I’ll have to face later.

‘Don’t be silly,’ says Diane, patting my shoulder. ‘But I wish you’d told us. I feel awful about Adam announcing my pregnancy like that.’

‘I can’t go on any longer,’ I say, still speaking to Jack.

‘You’d find it much simpler if you just accept everything,’ he says.

‘Can we just leave Millie out of it?’ I ask desperately.

‘I’m afraid not,’ he says solemnly.

‘Millie doesn’t have to know, does she?’ asks Esther, puzzled.

‘There’s no point upsetting her,’ Diane frowns.

Jack turns to them. ‘You’re right, of course. It would be foolish to tell Millie about Grace’s miscarriage. Now, I think I should take Grace home. I hope you’ll forgive me for breaking up the party, Esther.’

‘I’m fine,’ I say quickly, not wanting to leave the safety of Esther and Rufus’s house, because I know what will be waiting for me once I get home. I move out of Jack’s arms, appalled that I could have taken comfort there for so long. ‘Really, I’m fine now and I’d like to stay.’

‘Good, I’m glad. Please, Grace, sit back down.’ The shame in Esther’s eyes tells me that her remark, the one that had prompted my tears, had been barbed and that she feels guilty for having laboured the point that Diane was pregnant. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says quietly, as I take up my place again. ‘And about your miscarriage.’

‘It’s all right,’ I say. ‘Please, let’s just forget it.’

As I drink the coffee that Esther has served, I work harder than I’ve ever worked before, horribly conscious of how stupid I was to let my guard down. Aware that I need to redeem myself if I want to see Millie tomorrow, I look lovingly at Jack and explain to everyone around the table that the reason I broke down was because I feel dreadful that, for the moment, I seem unable to give Jack the thing he wants most in the world, a baby. When we finally stand up to leave I know that everyone admires my speedy and charming recovery and I sense
that Esther likes me a lot more than she did before, which can only be a good thing, even if it’s only because of my imperfect womb.

Reality hits me once I’m sitting in the car on the way home. Jack’s grim silence tells me that however much ground I’ve made up in relation to the others, he’s still going to make me pay for my stupidity. The thought of not going to see Millie is more than I can bear and, as silent tears spring from my eyes, I’m shocked at how weak I’ve become.

We arrive at the house. Jack unlocks the front door and we go into the hall.

‘You know, I have never questioned who I am,’ he says thoughtfully as he helps me off with my coat. ‘But tonight, for a split second, when I was holding you in my arms, when everybody was commiserating with us about your miscarriage, I had a taste of what it was like to be normal.’

‘You could be!’ I tell him. ‘You could be, if you really wanted to be! You could get help, Jack, I know you could!’

He grins at my outburst. ‘The trouble is, I don’t want help. I like who I am, I like it very much indeed. And I’ll like it even better in seventy-five days’ time, when Millie comes to live with us. It’s a shame we won’t be going to see her tomorrow—I’m almost beginning to miss her.’

‘Please, Jack,’ I beg.

‘Well, I certainly can’t let you off for your appalling lack of restraint tonight so if you want to see Millie tomorrow, you know what you have to do.’

‘You couldn’t stand that I didn’t fall into your pathetic trap, could you?’ I say, realising that he had set out to upset me during the dinner by mentioning Millie coming to live with us.

‘Pathetic trap?’

‘Yes, that’s right, pathetic. Couldn’t you come up with anything better than shading words in a book?’

‘You really are becoming too clever for your own good,’ he snaps. ‘Whichever way I look at it, you need to be punished.’