‘Wow. That looks incredible,’ Tricia said. ‘I have to ask, does it contain nuts? I have a severe allergy.’
Mr Tunney assured her it was safe to eat.
Meagan listened to her mother apologise to Mr Tunney about Sarah, assuring him it would never happen again, explaining how ill she’d been and unaware of what had happened.
It was getting late. Meagan looked exhausted. Her cheeks were a bright red colour, her face full of cake and she struggled to keep her eyes open. Tricia made an excuse, keen to get home. Sean would be expecting them.
She couldn’t face another confrontation.
As Tricia opened the front door, Sean was standing in the hall. ‘You’re up then?’
She paused, feeling anxious, fighting the start of a panic attack. ‘Yes. I’m feeling better. Did you eat?’
‘Where were you both?’
Tricia’s face reddened, a rash developing on her chest. ‘We popped across the road; I wanted Meagan and Sarah to spend some time together. Do you want something to eat? I can cook something. How about eggs?’ Tricia made her way past her husband, who was blocking her path.
‘You heard what happened during the week, yet you went behind my back.’
Tricia looked at her daughter. ‘Meagan, why don’t you go play in your room?’
‘I want to stay with you, Mummy.’
‘Am I getting this right? Please tell me if I’ve missed anything?’ Sean was trembling, looking like he’d explode.
‘Please, Sean. Not now. I didn’t do it to piss you off, I promise.’
Meagan looked at her father. ‘I asked Mummy to bring me. It’s not Mummy’s fault.’
‘Meagan, don’t talk when I’m talking. Do you understand? How many times have you been told not to interfere when adults are talking?’
Tricia tried again to protect her daughter from what she feared would unfold. ‘Meagan, baby, please go to your room.’
Her daughter whispered, ‘I’m not leaving you, Mummy. I’ll protect you, don’t worry.’
‘I’ll ask again. Why did you disobey me, Tricia, when you’re well aware of what happened during the week?’
Tricia flipped. It was fight or flight, she had to make a stand. ‘Sean. For Christ’s sake, you let a five-year-old child go home on her own. What if someone grabbed her? Or she was knocked over crossing the road? Why would you do such a thing?’
‘You’re such a bitch, you know that?’
‘Daddy. That’s a bad word. You can’t say that to my Mummy.’
Tricia crouched, moving her hand through Meagan’s hair. ‘It’s okay, baby. Daddy is just tired. He didn’t mean it.’
Suddenly, Sean lifted his foot back, booting Tricia in the side of the face so that his wife fell hard on the ground.
As she winced, he kicked her in the ribs, a loud crack echoing through the hallway.
Tricia cried out, ‘Sean, stop. Please, not in front of Meagan.’
As Tricia moved her hand to protect herself, Sean stamped on her fingers, twisting his foot, crushing her hand until it turned purple.
9
Present Day
Oliver found the storeroom in the darkness. He wanted to use his phone as a torch, but it was too conspicuous. He needed to keep in the shadows, move unnoticed. He slowly stepped along the cold concrete floor, feeling his way along the dingy corridor with his hands waving in front. The basement of the building gave off the odour of a crypt. The murky air was filled with dust particles and he struggled to breathe in the congested atmosphere.
Oliver dragged his left arm along the sharp wall, rough stones cutting the tips of his fingers. Finally, he touched a door handle towards the end of the corridor. He pulled it downwards, opening the heavy door. He removed his phone from his pocket and switched on the torch. Then he closed the door behind him.
He welcomed the light, adjusting his eyes, sweeping it across the room.
The storeroom was barren. Thick pipes clipped to the bottom of the wall gave off an uncomfortable heat.
Straight in front of him was a wooden shelf, with a bulging envelope in the middle.
Oliver picked it up, took a deep breath and made his way back out of the dark basement.
On the second floor the communal area was dimly lit and empty. He could hear water dripping in the distance. A light bulb flickered towards the end of the hall. Behind him, the lift bell rang continuously, the doors opening, bouncing awkwardly and closing unevenly, like they’d become disjointed.
He moved along the communal hall, edging the fire door open, scanning the apartments from the roof space outside. He watched the windows, seeing a couple towards the end of the block. Oliver moved closer, making sure Rob was asleep; it didn’t bear thinking about if he was up, walking about. Then he went back inside.
Oliver had to be quick. He listened intently, scanning the area, knowing he had to move fast, in and out. He couldn’t be seen – that would jeopardise everything.
He felt for the envelope in his pocket, making sure not to open it until he was inside apartment six.
Again, Oliver drew the phone from his pocket, moving the light towards the front doors. He was pleased to see they looked flimsy and he thought he wouldn’t have a problem getting inside. Apartment six. It’s got to be one of these. He recalled what Meagan had said, the clear instructions. Suddenly, his head was cloudy. He stumbled backwards, struggling to see, the building spinning like a carousel out of control. Oliver knelt, pressing his forehead to the ground. Come on, you can do this. Be strong. He urged himself to finish the task, pushing himself upwards. He was dazed, confused, struggling to understand his surroundings, a temporary mind-block.
He pictured Meagan’s face, her disconcerted appearance, the fear in her eyes, her blank, empty expression. The telling signs of how she suffered at the hands of her husband. He needed to do this, for her, for them.
He’d become doubtful. He struggled to hold the light, his hands trembling. He was overwhelmed with nausea. His lips were dry, a cold chill rising through his body.
He moved back towards the stairs, shining the light at the door in front of him. A brass shape was hanging on a screw. He squinted his eyes, his vision again became blurry, but he was positive it said number six. He was certain.
‘Yes, you beauty. Let’s do this.’
He made sure the stairs were empty, waiting to see if he could hear anyone. Silence. No one coming down from above, no one coming up from below.
He peered towards the back of the building, watching the flickering light dance, seeing it suddenly go out, causing the hall to go into darkness.
Oliver held the torch in front of the door, aware of his heavy breathing. There was a dull noise ringing in his ears probably due to his stress, fear and anxiety. He took a step back, removing a bank card from his wallet, inhaled and jimmied the card in the lock. Too much noise! Get a grip, Oliver, you can do this. It sounded like scratching, nails being drawn down a chalkboard, then a heavy clunk like a hammer against steel. The lock loosened, the door flung open and suddenly Oliver was inside apartment six.
He found himself in a narrow hall. A soft light came from the kitchen towards the back, allowing him to see a little.
He held his breath for a moment, waiting.
Firstly, Oliver needed to find Rob. Meagan had said he’d be upstairs.
He shut the front door gently, moved along the hall and reached the stairs.
Great, I’m inside, he thought. Find Rob, keep calm and as silent as possible.
Oliver crept into the kitchen. He stood in the silence, listening for a sound, anything, a telltale sign that Rob was awake; a shift, footsteps, heavy breathing. It was quiet, so very quiet.