Watching him sleep gave her pleasure. How she envied him though. He was so at peace. He slept with his mouth very slightly open, lying so still that when they had first come together she had sometimes put her cheek almost to his lips to gently check that he was breathing.
It also gave her pleasure to think of those early days together, when they had so deliriously explored each other’s bodies and minds.
Almost at once they’d started to plan a life together. They were lucky, Felix had told her. They would have plenty of time to play, plenty of time for holidays and nights out, particularly in the early years. And they would at the same time acquire a beautiful family home. And then the family to go in it would arrive. Just like that. Effortlessly.
And so it had come to pass. Pretty much how Felix had promised from the very beginning. Their twins, Stephen and Joanna, were now tucked up in the bedroom just on the other side of the landing.
Jane walked softly across the room into the en-suite bathroom where she changed into her night things in order not to disturb Felix. This had become a more or less nightly routine, and one she did not like at all.
When she returned to the bedroom she paused by the window, looking out across the River Torridge to the lights of Appledore. The curtains were open, as they both preferred.
Jane told herself how lucky she was. She tried to convince herself that if she counted her blessings, the demons might cease to plague her. After all, she had Felix, two fabulous children, and a perfect home.
If she believed it, wished with all her heart for it to come to pass, maybe, just maybe, she would be left alone. Jane had also been told that if she could think calm happy thoughts before she slept it would help. And indeed, it had. Up to a point.
The night was so still. The tide was high, and the moon reflected a rippling silver on the dark water. It was so peaceful, and Jane longed for peace.
She had everything else, after all, and she reminded herself of how she and Felix were the envy of most of their friends and neighbours. Therein lay the rub. They didn’t know, of course. Only Felix knew. Really knew. And he preferred not to dwell on it.
Her husband stirred very slightly. He curled himself a little more into the foetal position, quickly settling again.
Jane continued to watch him. She couldn’t actually remember the last time they had made love. The physical side of their relationship had once been so good, from the very start. Until bedtime began to turn into a horror story. She wondered if Felix was missing it as much as she did. And not for the first time, she wondered if he was seeking release elsewhere. He had given her no reason to believe that, but he was still a young man. One thing was certain, if Felix had found an occasional sexual alternative to his angst-ridden wife, and she didn’t see how he could fit much more than that into their lifestyle, then, again, Jane blamed only herself.
She pulled her dressing gown close, wrapping her arms tightly around her body. She wasn’t cold, just forlorn. Her attempts to focus on the happy positive aspects of her life had not worked well.
She made a last effort. She let the dressing gown fall loose again and set off for the children’s room, carefully pushing their door open just a little more, in order not to wake them.
The twins, in their matching wooden beds — Stevie’s painted pale blue, Joanna’s pale yellow — were sleeping as deeply and as peacefully as their father. Their room was also painted in shades and shapes of blue and yellow. In the days when she had still felt able to bother about interior decoration, Jane had considered pink and blue to be a tad too obvious for boy and girl twins. And, in any case, blue and yellow, whilst such nice colours for little ones, were also rather stylish. The colours of Monet.
Each child lay very still. Stevie had his thumb in his mouth, and was half lying on his toy bear. Joanna, a bunny hugger through and through, was clutching her white rabbit close. Actually Loppy, Jo’s favourite cuddly toy since she was a baby, wasn’t really white any more, but rather more a murky grey.
Jane made a mental note to pop Loppy in the washing machine in the morning, whilst Joanna was at school.
Feeling slightly better again, she returned to the master bedroom, removed her dressing gown, and slipped beneath the bedclothes alongside her husband, moving as little as possible in order not to wake him.
She pulled a pillow from the pile at the head of the bed and wrapped her arms and legs around it. Sometimes she thought that helped her.
She’d barely slept at all for three nights. And not a great deal for more than a week before that. She’d got into the habit of deliberately keeping herself awake half the time. In spite of the resultant all-consuming exhaustion, it was often preferable to the alternative. That night she knew she would not be able to do so again. Her body craved sleep. So did her mind. The warmth of the bed cocooned her. Her husband’s gentle breathing soothed her, enticing her to forget her fears. Ultimately, she had no choice but to let go, telling herself everything was going to be all right, and she could be well again, as she gave in to the waves of sleep washing over her.
The next thing Jane was aware of was the sound of screaming. Desperate loud screaming. A child’s screaming. And her own screams too. As one. Close yet distant.
At first, she couldn’t see anything. She didn’t know where she was. She had no idea what was happening. She had no concept even of whether she was awake or asleep. Had she gone blind? No. Her eyes were closed. She opened them. And immediately wished she hadn’t. She was still screaming, unable to stop. The screaming child was her daughter, Joanna, whom she was holding tightly in her arms. Too tightly. She slackened her grip at once, desperate to find a way of comforting her daughter.
‘There, there,’ she mouthed.
It was too late. Joanna did not respond to her mother’s voice. Not at all. She continued to scream, and she looked terrified. Was Jane responsible for that? Jane supposed she must be.
She was still trying to work out how she could calm and sooth her daughter, whilst she was herself still in the grip of a panic attack, when Joanna was snatched from her arms.
Felix was tousle-haired and bleary-eyed, clearly fighting his way back from a deep sleep. He also looked absolutely furious. Angrier than Jane had ever seen him. Yet he held Joanna tenderly, and his natural gentleness had a swift effect on the little girl, whose screams abated as she snuggled into her father’s chest. The look he focused on Jane was anything but gentle.
‘Go back to our bedroom,’ he instructed her. His voice was level but icy cold.
Jane wanted to try to explain. To apologize. But at the same time to reassure. To tell him she would never ever harm their children. Not under any circumstances. But the words wouldn’t come out. And she wasn’t even sure that they were true. Not anymore. She just stood there, looking at Felix, trying to control her breathing, fighting to calm herself down.
‘Go back to our bedroom,’ Felix repeated, his voice low but all the more foreboding for that.
She knew she should obey Felix, try to explain later, wait until they were both over the shock of the moment. But she couldn’t move.
‘She’s all right, i-isn’t she?’ she queried hesitantly. ‘I mean, I haven’t hurt Jo, h-have I?’
‘I don’t know,’ muttered Felix through gritted teeth. ‘You were squeezing her. And shaking the life out of her.’
‘I didn’t shake her,’ protested Jane. ‘I didn’t do that. I’m sure I didn’t.’
‘Yes, well that’s the problem, isn’t it, Jane?’ Felix continued, spitting out the words. ‘You’re not sure. You can’t be sure of anything. You don’t know what the hell you’re doing.’
‘But I wouldn’t harm them, never, I... I couldn’t... ’