The Blame (14 page)

Laura and David ate their soup in silence. Every so often she caught him staring at her, only to lower his eyes.

Is this how it’s going to be from now on
? she wondered
.  So much that needs to be said and yet no words to say it with
.

She felt depleted, hollow. Even her tears seemed to have run out. She wondered what weighed most on his mind at that moment. Her affair? The dead man? Years from now, would she still catch him glancing at her with that odd look in his eye? And what was it exactly? Contempt? Resentment? Despair?

Everyone had secrets, she knew that. Even if they didn’t consciously consider them as such, most people had ugly truths they’d rather nobody knew about. Because if they did, that one little trait or weakness would become the single characteristic that most defined them. 

Of course most of these secrets were perfectly harmless: a penchant for watching tacky soaps on TV, masturbating in the shower, envying the neighbours. Some of them were so private that not even spouses knew about them. They’d be taken to the grave as if they were one of the seven mortal sins.

Then again others were jealously guarded and shared within families. Dirty little secrets that would shock friends and relatives were they to be revealed. Oh yes, every family had a skeleton in the cupboard.

Of course she and David now had one of their own. Well, he wasn’t yet a skeleton but he soon would be. And he wasn’t in the cupboard—he was in a more appropriate place.

A hysterical fit of laughter rose up through her chest, making her choke on her soup.

David eyed her with concern. “Are you all right?”

She didn’t seem to hear him; her eyes were glazed over.

But that wasn’t the end of it for them. No siree! They had another secret! Yes, indeed. They were a most fortuitous family. Not one sordid secret, but two! Two!

Loud guffaws, which quickly turned to hysterical sobs, escaped her. Soup spluttered from her nose and mouth as she put her head down on the table and cried. David put down his spoon and came round to her side. After hesitating for a fraction of a second, he pulled her to her feet and held her in a tight embrace. He squeezed his eyes shut and rocked her gently in his arms.

When her tears finally subsided, David led her to the sofa in the sitting room. Holding her hand gently in his, he looked at her with concern.

“Laura, we have to be able to hold it together when Vanessa comes home. Do you think you can do that?”

She wiped her nose on her sleeve and nodded.

“Laura, we have to stay strong for Vanessa’s sake. There’s too much at stake. We can’t undo what’s done, and we can’t turn back the clock.” He spoke slowly and emphatically, like a patient parent explaining the unpopular, yet necessary, house rules to a troublesome teen.

Laura’s lips quivered but she held her tears in check. He was right. She would have to pull herself together, otherwise the consequences would be far worse than if she’d called the police in first place. If the truth were to come out now, it would look bad for her, for them. After all, everyone knew that hiding a body was akin to confessing a crime.

“It’s not your fault,” he said forcefully, gripping her by the shoulders and willing her to believe it. “That guy got what he deserved. He invaded our home; he attacked you! If the dogs hadn’t come to your aid, he’d probably have killed you!”

Laura shuddered. She knew that, but to hear it out loud made it all the more real. How would her poor baby have reacted to the terrible news? It didn’t bear thinking about.

“It was his fault,” David reiterated emphatically, “so why should our family have to pay for his actions? That’s what we have to focus on, do you understand?” he raised her chin with his finger and looked earnestly at her.

“I know, but it’s hard.”

“Of course it is, but the worst is behind us. Now we focus on Vanessa, on our family.”

Our family. Laura felt a flood of relief and gratitude. Her husband was stepping up when she needed him most.

“David…. thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without your support right now.”

“Don’t thank me for standing by my family. You and Vanessa mean everything to me. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, even if I haven’t been as supportive as I should have.”

She squeezed his hand and swallowed the lump in her throat. A little bud of hope blossomed in her chest; there might just be a chance for them yet.

“You do realize, though, that we must never, ever speak to anyone of what happened here this weekend?”

She nodded. He’d put into words her earlier thoughts.

Skeletons in the cupboard.

But this time she wasn’t overcome by hysteria. Instead, a firm resolution lodged itself in her brain. This resolve fortified her, like cup of strong hot tea after a particularly tiring day.

She would lock up this hideous knowledge in a box, throw the key away, and then bury it deep in her mind. So deep that she would one day be able to forget it was there.

Then maybe the day would come when her first waking thought wouldn’t be about him, about what she— what they—had done to him. Maybe one morning she would be able to open her eyes and think about the things that needed doing that day: the laundry, the bills, schoolwork, her own work. And maybe she wouldn’t be overcome by dread and self-loathing. Maybe she would be able to wake up and feel the same as everybody else did.

“Laura? Did you hear what I said?”

She dragged her attention back to what David was saying.

“You can’t even tell Sara about any of this. You’d put her in an untenable situation. You know that, right?”

“I know, David. We’ll have to bear this burden ourselves.”

Nor will I humiliate you by telling anyone my other secret
, she promised him silently.

***

“Shame, mommy! That looks so sore!” Vanessa commiserated with her mother.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Laura tried to reassure her, subconsciously adjusting the cotton turtleneck sweater around her neck to hide the grotesque medley of purple and blue.

If only you knew!
Her stomach recoiled at the thought. Thank God Vanessa hadn’t been there to witness it, or even worse, it didn’t bear thinking about; if something had happened to her daughter ….

She felt bile rise up in her throat and struggled to steady her nerves.

“Are you all right, mommy?” asked Vanessa with concern. “You look sick.”

“I’m fine, darling. I’m just a little tired, that’s all. But tell me about your weekend! I’m so proud of you—your first sleepover!”

“Yes, it was so much fun! Do you like the doll Auntie Sara bought me?”

“I do, indeed. It’ll look lovely on your bed.”

“When can I sleep over at Mariana’s again?”

Laura laughed, and it was a relief to do so. To prove to herself that still was still capable of doing so.

“Well, it’ll be her birthday soon, so I’m sure they’ll invite you to spend the night, seeing as you’re such a big girl now.”

Vanessa clapped her hands in delight. It warmed Laura’s heart to see her daughter accomplish this milestone, which was so ordinary for most children. Hopefully they would soon be able to banish the spectre of night terrors and bedwetting from their lives— if not that other one, the truly dreadful one. She grimaced; her every thought led her back there.  Time, she reminded herself. You’ve got to give yourself time. What was it they said? Time was the great healer. Time healed all wounds.

But how much time would it take? How long would it be before the horror began to fade? And could she hold on that long?

“Come on, Vanessa. Bed-time,” called David from the doorway, making Laura jump. “You’ve got school tomorrow.”

Seeing her open her mouth to protest, David jumped in. “You’re not going to argue today, are you? Not when mommy’s not feeling too well.”

The emotional blackmail worked and Vanessa allowed herself to be led to her room. Within minutes she was fast asleep.

David and Laura stood next to their daughter’s bed, watching her sleep, their fingers entwined, as if drawing strength from the perfect picture before them.

“Laura, I’ve been worried sick about you! David was so evasive when he picked Vanessa up last night. What’s going on?” Sara blurted out, the minute Laura answered the phone.

“Morning, Sara. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. Everything’s fine. I just had a little accident on the quad bike, that’s all.”

“So David said. But he didn’t elaborate. How did it happen? Are you hurt?”

“No, not really. Just a few cuts and bruises. And I’m feeling a little stiff, but it’ll pass.”

“Do you want me to come round? Miguel can watch the store.”

“No!” Laura replied a little too sharply. “I mean, that’s not necessary, Sara. But thanks, anyway.
Dona
Maria is here and she’ll help me with whatever I need.”

“And… is David back home now?” Sara asked hesitantly.

“Oh, that! Yes, yes. It was just a silly misunderstanding, that’s all.”

There was a second’s silence.

“Well, all right then. I’m happy to hear that. But if you need anything, anything at all, please call me.”

“Thank you, I will. And Sara, thank you for being such a good friend.”

“Nonsense. Just make sure you take care of yourself. You know you can talk to me about anything you want, right?”

“I know, Sara, thank you. I’ll call you soon.”

No, not quite anything
, Laura thought sadly.

Sara was no fool. She knew something was up. But she was also a true friend—she wouldn’t pry.

Laura slipped her phone into her pocket and stared out of the kitchen window. The electrician had shown his usual bad timing by turning up that day.
I should probably go out there and make sure he covers everything,
she thought.  

As her gaze fell upon the path where her attacker had lain dead, she felt a terrible surge of panic rise up through her. An implacable hand squeezed her chest and throat; she couldn’t breathe. She started hyperventilating, her hands tearing at her neckline in an attempt to let the air in. She looked wildly about her, overcome by a terrifying feeling of being trapped; an overwhelming need to escape.

I need to get out of here
. The thought ricocheted around her head like a deranged bouncy ball as she clutched at her throat. Then in horror she realized what she needed to escape from was her own body.

I’m losing my mind
!

Don’t be so stupid
, said the tiny part of her brain that was still in control.
Get a grip
.

Laura realized she was being irrational, but was unable to control herself, which only increased her terror.

I’m going mad! No! No! No! David, where are you? I need you!

Then her world started to spin, and a merciful, soothing blackness overcame her.

Laura came to on the kitchen floor. She had no idea how long she had lain there, probably just a few seconds, she thought.

Her heart was still thudding but she was now able to breathe. Gulping down precious air, she rose unsteadily to her feet. 

My God
, she thought.
What if
Dona
Maria had seen me lying there? What would she think? I have to pull myself together.

I need a drink
. The thought popped unbidden into head.

She opened the fridge and took out a bottle of Muscatel wine. She pulled out the cork and put the bottle to her lips, taking three long slugs. She immediately felt the warmth it radiated spread through her limbs, relaxing her muscles and calming her nerves.

Thank God
! The relief she felt was palpable. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and carried the bottle to the counter. She took a glass from the cupboard and poured herself a generous shot before replacing the bottle.

She downed the contents of her glass and stacked it in the dishwasher. The alcohol quickly hit the empty spot in her stomach, draining the tension from her body.  

On wobbly legs, she made her way to the study and locked herself in, grateful that
Dona
Maria was upstairs cleaning.

She flopped down on the couch, and it dawned on her that she now understood first hand a line she had often read in novels.

I need a drink
.

She’d always thought that odd. She could understand someone
feeling
like having a drink, but
needing
one had always been an alien concept to her. Not anymore. She now knew what the characters meant when they had a drink to “take the edge off.” It did that all right.

Thank God for small mercies! The comfort she took in this knowledge made her feel pathetic.

***

“
Dona
Laura! “
Dona
Laura!”

The loud rapping awoke Laura. She got groggily to her feet and opened the door.

“Are you all right?” Concern creased
Dona
Maria’s brow.

“Yes, yes. I’m sorry, I must have dozed off,” Laura replied as she readjusted the silk scarf around her neck. 

“You haven’t eaten anything all day,” said
Dona
Maria accusingly. A cardinal sin in her book. “I’ve prepared an omelette and salad for you. Come along, you must eat something.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Dona
Maria led her along, tut-tutting at the silliness of city folk. Not a shred of common sense in those heads.

Despite not feeling hungry, Laura managed to clean her plate, under
Dona
Maria’s watchful eye.

“Shall I make you a cup of coffee, too?”
Dona
Maria asked as the coffee machine spurted strong aromatic into a dainty cup.

“No, thanks,” replied Laura as she put down her cutlery and headed for the fridge. “I think I’ll just have a glass of Muscatel to settle my stomach.”

Dona
Maria shook her head behind Laura’s back. These young women of today. Preferring alcohol over coffee. And at lunchtime, too. It was rather disgraceful, she thought. Of course Laura was a foreigner so in a way it was understandable. Foreign women drank like fish.

***

Laura was startled to hear the crunch of gravel in the driveway. She’d hadn’t buzzed anyone in and the dogs hadn’t barked. She peered cautiously through the window before throwing the front door open.

“David! What are you doing here?” Laura exclaimed. “It’s only half past three.”

Not bothering to park the car in the garage, David strode up to Laura and embraced her. The dogs milled around their legs, happily wagging their tails.

“I couldn’t concentrate at work, and I didn’t want to leave you alone today.”

She clung limply to him, amazed at the relief and gratitude she felt. No amount of Muscatel seemed to completely keep her anxiety at bay, yet his presence had an instant soothing effect on her. She let out a long shuddering breath.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Where’s
Dona
Maria? Why don’t you let her go early today so we can talk?”

“She’s in the laundry, doing the ironing.” “Well, go and speak to her while I change out of my suit.” He smiled reassuringly at her before heading up the stairs.

***

Laura stood in the doorway, waving as
Dona
Maria drove away in her aging, but well-maintained Renault Clio. The dogs dutifully escorted her to the gate, as they always did.

“She’s going to be suspicious. You’ve never come home this early before. And what with my bruises…”

“Don’t worry, Laura. She’ll probably think we had a fight and are making up now. Maybe she’ll even think I smacked you round a little. After all, it’s not that unusual round these parts, or anywhere else in the world, sadly enough.”

“Jesus, that’s all we need now—people thinking you’re a wife-batterer.”

“That’s the least of our worries. I don’t care what other people think. I care about us. How have you been holding up?” David asked gently.

“Not too good. I think I had a panic attack.” She clamped her lips together to stop them from trembling.

“Oh, baby,” David said softly, taking her in his arms.

“I think I’m going crazy, David.” The tears pushed their way out from under her lids.

“Shh, it’s okay, now. You’re not going crazy. You’re going to be fine. I’m here now.” He stroked her hair gently.

“Why don’t you go and lie down for a bit before the school bus comes? I’ll sit with you; you need some rest.”

David lay down on the bed next to her and rubbed her hand until she dropped off. Even in sleep her face revealed the tension she was under. Christ. Their life was up shit creek, even if he did try to put on a brave face for Laura.

Before and after
.

That’s how their lives would be contemplated from now on. The point in time where everything changed, where their world was turned upside down. Only David wasn’t too sure exactly when that point was. For Laura it was obvious. But for him, what hurt him most was that other thing. The day his wife stabbed him in the back.

Doubt, resentment and jealousy still lurked deep in his heart, no matter how hard he tried to banish them. And not even this terrible tragedy could totally wipe them out. He felt petty and mean that thoughts of her affair could so easily supplant the images of that fateful night.

His overactive imagination wreaked havoc on him. Dirty, evil pictures flashed through his mind, driving him insane with jealousy. Where had they done it? What had that bastard done to his wife? Where had he touched her? Had she liked it? And what had she done to him?

Under his breath he let out a string of his favourite expletives, plus a few others for good measure.