Matt snatched the phone off her, his face red now, as furious as she’d ever seen him. ‘I told you what would happen if I ever found out you were cheating, didn’t I?’ He pointed the phone at her, his eyes almost popping out of his head.
‘Matt, no,’ she pleaded, tears of desperation in her voice. ‘You don’t understand. I’m not! I don’t know how that happened. I don’t. I have no idea who that man is.’
‘You expect me to believe that?’ he snarled.
‘But it’s true, it—’ She ducked as he swiped at her with his hand, adrenaline coursing through her veins, then watched in horror as he started throwing things while she cowered on the floor unable to say or do anything to stop him, the butter knife still firmly clutched in her hand.
Mugs went flying, then the plates she’d stacked ready to put away. He swiped the fruit bowl off the worktop, sending apples bouncing in all directions, the wooden bowl sliding across the tiles. She hoped the children hadn’t woken up, frightened by the racket, glad that the kitchen door was closed and their bedrooms were at the front of the house. For a moment, there was silence, and she thought maybe his anger had abated. She daren’t look, her arms clasped over her head, knees to her chest. Suddenly he grabbed her wrist, the knife was wrenched from her hand and he started dragging her across the floor. ‘No, no, no,’ she sobbed. ‘You’ve got to listen to me. There’s something weird—’
‘I’m not listening to any more of your lies,’ he snapped, uncurling her fingers from the table leg where she’d tried to anchor herself. Chairs toppled as she kicked out, desperately seeking something to grasp on to. But he was a man possessed – his strength reinforced by fury – and he shoved her out of the back door, leaving her shocked and shivering in the cool of the night. She heard the lock turn, knew he was beyond the point of reasoning.
A few minutes later, the door opened and her handbag flew out, followed shortly after by her car keys, thrown with such force, they smacked against her face, leaving a throbbing pain that matched the ache in her heart.
‘Matt. Please listen to me, please.’ She scrambled to her feet, desperate to explain. To tell him she had no idea who the man was or how the video had been taken.
‘You slag! How could you?’ He stood in the doorway, sobbing with rage, chest heaving, face contorted and wet with tears. She lunged forward, trying to get back inside, but the door slammed in her face. The lock turned again and she heard the bolt slide home.
She slapped at the door in disbelief, body shaking with shock. Only a few hours ago, she’d come home believing this to be her sanctuary, her safe place, happy to be back at the heart of the family, full of laughter and smiles. And now this. Expelled.
A cool breeze brought goose bumps to her skin. Wearing only a T-shirt and jeans, her feet bare, she started to shiver, and rubbed her arms to try and get warm as she stared at the house. There was no point knocking. No point begging. Not until he’d calmed down. She trudged down the driveway to her car and got in. There was only one place she could go: Hailey’s.
She reversed out of the drive, the pedals cold against her feet, reminding her of the time she’d had to leave home in nothing but her nightclothes, Hailey tugging her along, urging her to go faster when she was still half asleep.
‘Come on,’ her sister had pleaded. ‘He’ll start belting you too if we’re not quick.’
Sara had dug her heels in, staring back over her shoulder towards the little terraced house they’d moved into only a few months before. ‘We can’t leave Mum,’ she’d whimpered, but Hailey’s hand pulled harder and she wasn’t strong enough to resist.
‘We’ve got to go and get help. Come on,’ Hailey had urged, leading her to the end house of the row, where she’d started banging on the door, all the time glancing back the way they had come, frightened they’d been followed.
Luckily, Mrs Greenwood had been in that night. It had all worked out, after a fashion, although it had been weeks before their mother was out of hospital, and months before Sara saw her again.
She shook the thoughts away, concentrated on the road ahead of her.
Hailey might be able to talk to him, she thought as she drove. The two of them seemed to be getting on better these days. It hadn’t always been the case, but Matt appeared to have become more palatable to Hailey once he’d lost his job and she’d seen the vulnerable side to him. Hailey liked vulnerable. She hated cocky men, alpha males, and Matt generally fitted in that category. She’d told Sara a few times over the years that she thought he was too dominant, but Sara hadn’t wanted to listen. She knew marriage was a compromise, knew Matt had a soft side and his need to be in control came from childhood insecurities, but she couldn’t explain it all to Hailey. It was Matt’s business and it had taken long enough for him to talk to Sara, his wife, about it, so she wasn’t going to gossip to her sister.
Compromise was not a word Hailey was very familiar with in her own relationships with men. She was not going to be dominated by anyone and was probably oversensitive to any signs of control. It was the reason why her marriage had fallen apart after nine years, and why she’d been on her own ever since. Given their past, it wasn’t surprising.
Being four years older than Sara, Hailey could remember more about their chaotic home life, her mother’s ragtag boyfriends and their associates. Rare conversations about their childhood – usually after they’d drunk too much wine and Hailey had dropped her guard – had also revealed a dark side to one of her foster placements. A man with wandering hands. Hailey hadn’t gone into detail, and Sara could only guess at what might have happened. They certainly avoided the subject these days; now their mother was dead, it was like that part of their past had died with her.
When she pulled up outside Hailey’s house, she was glad to see the lights still on. It wasn’t late, just before ten, but Hailey went to bed early and got up early; an off-for-a-run-before-breakfast sort of person. She was slow to answer the door, opening it a crack, the security chain on as she peered out, suspicion written all over her face. She frowned when she saw it was Sara, clearly puzzled.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Matt’s thrown me out,’ Sara said, before the words made it real and the tears started to fall. ‘Can I come in?’
She could hear Hailey muttering as she undid the security chain, scanning the street as if she was expecting trouble, before closing the door and locking it again as soon as Sara was inside. Bolts top and bottom, as well as the chain and the lock. A bit over-the-top, Sara had always thought, but Hailey’s work had repercussions at times, and a few years ago she’d been attacked in her home by a disgruntled father who’d decided it was her fault that his son had pressed charges for assault. It was that sort of clientele she was dealing with. Damaged and vulnerable children from dysfunctional families. She was passionate about it – above and beyond what was expected – and Sara always felt it was more her sister’s vocation than her job.
Sara followed her into the kitchen, where Hailey flicked on the kettle and grabbed a couple of mugs from the drainer; tea being her answer to every problem. Sara sank into a chair at the kitchen table, her head in her hands, body shaking from head to toe. How has it come to this? She still couldn’t comprehend what she’d seen in the video. After a minute, she pulled her phone from her pocket, hesitating before she tapped in her PIN to bring it to life, not sure if she could bring herself to look again.