‘Oh, Wes, I don’t know what happened. I think … I think someone attacked me.’
‘What?’ He looks horrified. ‘What do you mean? Are you hurt?’
‘No, I think I’m fine. I just don’t understand what happened.’ She bursts into tears. He rushes over to her and wraps her in his arms. ‘I’m so sorry for being a bitch to you earlier,’ she cries, onto the shoulder of his hoody. ‘I don’t know what’s going on with me at the moment.’
‘Come on, silly,’ he says, helping her up the stairs. ‘It’s okay. You’re safe with me now.’ He steers her through the door and onto the ugly leather sofa she’s always hated but now it feels like a lifeboat. ‘Let me get you a cup of tea. Do you want to stay here tonight?’
She nods gratefully. ‘I’d better let Mum know.’
‘I’ll let Ana know, don’t worry.’
She’s shivering so much her teeth are chattering. Wesley fetches her a blanket. He doesn’t quiz her on what happened but patiently makes her a cup of tea with extra sugar and taps out a text to her mum. All the doubts she’s had about Wesley over the last few weeks vanish. He might not be perfect, she knows she certainly isn’t, but he’s always had her best interests at heart.
‘Jenna said she was attacked in the forest last night too.’ Olivia wipes her nose – her hands are so cold. ‘Was it the same person who did this to me?’
Wesley places his phone on the table, then reaches over and tucks the blanket in around her knees. This would usually annoy her and make her feel he was fussing but now she’s grateful for it. It makes her feel loved. Would moving in with Wesley really be the worst thing? she wonders. She can’t live with her mum for ever. She needs to grow up.
He takes her hand and then his face darkens. ‘What did you just say about Jenna? When were you speaking to her?’
Too late she sees her mistake. ‘Oh, I … um … I heard someone talking about it, in the Co-op,’ she lies. She doesn’t want to tell him about the interview. Not yet. She knows he’ll get angry.
‘What happened, Liv? You’re shaking and your hands are freezing.’
She tells him about walking home and the feeling she had that she was being followed. When she’s finished, he says, ‘Do you think you’d just had too much to drink and then ended up … I don’t know … stumbling towards the standing stones? And maybe blacking out for a bit? You’re not used to drinking.’
‘I was sure I was being followed, though.’
He squeezes her hand gently. ‘Maybe you freaked yourself out.’ He frowns at her as it dawns on him. ‘Why were you walking alone anyway? I thought you were seeing a friend?’
‘It was only a quick drink …’
‘So why were you with Dale?’ His voice is laced with suspicion.
‘He found me at the stones.’ She explains it all. He’s quiet as she speaks and she can see the disbelief in his eyes.
‘Has something happened with you and Dale?’
‘What?’ She can’t believe it.
He stands up and begins pacing. ‘Let me rephrase that. Is Dale the friend you were out drinking with tonight? Are you fucking him, Liv?’
She thinks she’s going to be sick. ‘After everything I’ve been through tonight and you think … you think I’m cheating on you? And with him?’ She can feel herself getting hysterical. He must believe her because he suddenly backs down, going to her and wrapping her in his arms and kissing the top of her head, like a father who regrets shouting at his child.
‘I’m sorry. Just seeing you two together, it made me feel so – so jealous, and I know we haven’t been getting on. You’ve been so emotionally unbalanced lately.’ He’s rocking her as he speaks to her and she’s so exhausted, so frightened by whatever happened to her tonight that she hasn’t the energy to protest. She lets him lead her to bed and tuck her up still clothed in her jodhpurs and jumper. She can barely keep her eyes open – she’s utterly exhausted. She falls asleep to the melodic tones of Wesley stroking the hair away from her face and telling her how much he loves her and how much she needs him.
35
Jenna
Dale had wanted to stay when we found the dead birds and I was so tempted to let him sleep in the spare room again. The last thing I want is to be in the cabin alone. But I couldn’t let him. There has been a subtle shift in our dynamics – a lingering look, the brush of his hand on my back, the wink. I might be separated but I feel very much a married woman, and even though I can’t deny I find Dale attractive, I don’t want him to get the wrong idea. Or maybe I don’t trust myself. I don’t know.
Dale had looked disappointed when I told him I’d be okay by myself but he’d made me promise to ring him if I was worried, ‘whatever time it is. I’m only at my dad’s so I’m not far away.’ I’m grateful to him. He’s made my stay in Stafferbury much more bearable and I know he’s been kind to me.
I’ve double-locked the front door and made myself another cup of tea. I reassure myself with the knowledge that nobody can get in. If the worst they can do is leave dead animal carcasses outside then so be it. The curtains are closed too, which gives me a safe, cocooned feeling. I throw another log onto the fire and sit next to it, stoking it with the metal poker. Then I sit on the sofa, the sheepskin covering my legs and my phone in my lap.
One thing I’ve realized is that I’ve been living in limbo these last four months. It’s not fair of Gavin to keep me hanging like this. I don’t know if it’s the wine, or being away from Manchester, but for the first time I wonder if I’m letting Gavin walk over me like I see Wesley walk over Olivia.
Before I lose my nerve I pick up my mobile, adrenalin coursing through me. I need to do it. I need to confront Gavin. It’s time. I haven’t spoken to him properly for weeks – most of the childcare arrangements are made through my mum, like she’s our very own negotiator.
I check the time. It’s nearly ten. Gavin never goes to bed before midnight. He’s one of those people who try to drain every last moment of the day before giving in to sleep. Most nights, especially since Finn, I’d go up to bed first and be asleep by the time he crawled in beside me, usually gone 2 a.m. The only time he would ever come to bed early was when he wanted sex. And over the last year that had become less and less frequent.
Still, the phone rings and rings. I picture him sitting up watching football or some documentary on TV, his mobile on the arm of the sofa, seeing my name flashing up and ignoring it. But just when I think it will ring out or go to voicemail I hear his voice at the other end of the line, gruff, familiar, and my heart tugs.
‘Jenna? Is everything okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ I say. ‘I just … I thought we should have a chat.’
‘What? Now?’
‘It’s been four months, Gav. I’ve given you your space but I need to know. I can’t keep on in this – this kind of limbo.’
‘Have you been drinking?’ I hear the touch of disapproval in his voice.