Page 27 of One Step Behind
‘Might be a bit hot for a bike ride,’ he says, more to himself than to me. His eyes slide to his book, face down on the counter. ‘Maybe I’ll spend some time in the garden. Tie the rose bushes back a bit.’
‘Why don’t you just read instead?’ I know full well he’ll stop whatever job he’s doing five minutes in and the tools will sit on the lawn until I badger him to put them away before one of the kids starts playing with them.
Stuart hesitates as though he wants to say somethingmore, but I force a bright smile and unbolt the front door before he can. ‘Come on kids, let’s go jump.’
Beth scurries down the stairs wearing black leggings and a cropped t-shirt that shows off her navel. With her hair tied up in a high ponytail and the shimmer of gloss on her lips she looks tall, slender and older than her nine years.
‘Er … where did that t-shirt come from?’ I ask.
‘Lacey got it for me for my birthday,’ she shrugs. ‘I’ve worn it loads of times and you’ve never said anything.’
I throw a glance at Stuart, pointing to my stomach and raising my eyebrows with a silent ‘Are we letting her wear that?’ question. She looks so grown-up. Have I really been so wrapped up in you not to notice her wearing it before?
‘It’s what all her friends are wearing.’ Stuart says. ‘Besides, it’ll be like a sauna in that place.’
Another day and I’d have pressed the point and made her change, but today I keep it in. I so want things to feel normal again for Beth and Archie. No more checking the doorstep before we go out, no more pulling over to the side of the road to call the police. No more fear.
‘Are we going, then?’ Beth asks, a bright-purple gift bag swinging in her hand. Archie is by her side, hopping from foot to foot in the blue-and-white Westbury football kit we gave him for Christmas. It already looks a little small.
‘Yes, let’s go,’ I say, making a silent promise to pay more attention to my children.
Stuart waves us off from the doorstep, one eye already looking at the football scores on his phone as he whistles to himself. On Thursday night, withthe champagne fizzing in our glasses, we talked for a long time about you. Actually, we talked about what our life will look like without you in it. His optimism, his rose-tinted view of our future, feels as exhausting as my lack of sleep.
In the car I let Beth put on a Little Mix album. We drive with the windows down, and both of the kids singing along to the tunes. Neither picks up their tablet from the pocket in the seat. It feels like a small victory.
‘Has that man stopped following you now, Mummy?’ Archie asks.
Beth hisses something at him, which is followed by an ‘Ouch,’ from Archie.
‘Beth,’ I frown, catching her eye in the rear-view mirror. ‘It’s fine to talk about it. I’m sorry I was trying to keep it from you. It’s only because I wanted to protect you.’
‘So has he?’ Beth asks.
I nod. ‘Yes.’ For now, anyway.
‘Why has he stopped?’ Archie asks.
‘It’s complicated,’ I reply. ‘The important thing is that he has and I’m going to try to make it up to you. I know this past year has been tough on you both as well.’
The next song loads and the singing begins again. I concentrate on the traffic and the people on the streets and wonder if I’ll ever stop looking for you.
We take the seafront road. The afternoon sun is still bright in the sky and glinting on the surface of the water like a thousand shards of mirror. We pass the fairground and the stretch of beach with the yellow sand and brightly painted beach huts. Away from the amusements and the crowds, the rest of the beachis pebbled and strewn with clumps of dark-green seaweed. A memory from last spring surfaces in my thoughts. A family day at the beach and Stuart chasing a squealing Beth and giggling Archie across the pebbles, seaweed lifted in the air, threatening to drape it over their heads. I smile at the memory.
I can’t remember the last time we all laughed with such ease.
The delighted screams of children and adults on rollercoasters reach my ears and I watch the Ferris wheel making its slow turn next to the pale wooden pier that stretches into the estuary.
The trampoline park is in an industrial estate on the way out of town. It’s a huge metal hangar wedged between a kitchen trade warehouse and one of those car dealerships that promises to buy any vehicle.
The kids are bouncing with excitement as we pile out of the car, and I can’t help but grin at their giggling. But then, out of nowhere, the spider returns, crawling up my back; the feeling of being watched, eyes on the nape of my neck that burn stronger than the sun’s rays.
I spin around so fast my loose hair whips the side of my face. My gaze darts in every direction, peering in between the cars and across the road.
Where are you?I want to scream.
I turn back to Beth and Archie and find they’re already walking across the car park without me. My sandals flap against the pavement as I run to catch up. ‘Beth, Archie, wait,’ I shout, my eyes looking ahead to the corner of the building. I can’t see what’s there.
They stop dead and wait for me to catch up. ‘Quick, get inside,’ I hiss, reaching for Archie’s hand and pulling him along.
