The dark within them, p.18
The Dark Within Them, page 18
“They look like Walmart,” he prodded the hard icing like he expected it to recoil. Amber felt blood rise to her face. “But okay, about piano. Nice to see you, Mel,” he nodded, heading for the stairs. Melanie waved.
“Lovely kid, Amber,” but Amber was already binning each cake, irritably dusting plate crumbs.
“Is he, then?” she said, a scowl blasted over her face.
“Seems like a normal teenager to me.” Melanie sipped her now-cold tea and glanced at the kitchen clock. “Well, not entirely. Don’t know how you manage to persuade him to do music. My Connor just wanted to run around all day by the creek after school. Drinking, I suspected,” she added this conspiratorially but Amber neglected to disguise her disgust. “Chad due home any minute now?” Amber detected a note of hope in Melanie’s tone.
“Well, that’s the thing. Chad thinks he’s not a normal teenager, actually. Chad keeps telling me he should be accountable for his actions, now.” Amber filled the sink with boiling, bubbling water, sailing Melanie’s cup into the depths. “That kind of accountability to the Lord started at eight years old. No doubt you told your Connor the same.” She scrubbed at the rim so hard Melanie winced, expecting the pop of a cracked edge. “But he can’t seem to help being misled by the dark.”
“Or his friends.”
“Or his…” Amber finally looked back at her.
“At that age…is all I mean,” Melanie added, clearly embarrassed by the intensity of Amber’s gaze. “If you’re worried—if Chad’s worried that he’s playing up—well I’m sure that will all pass.”
“I think you might be right.” Amber’s hands dripped soap suds from wrist to floor, but she didn’t seem to register the puddles. Was Ivan making friends here? He hadn’t talked about the new school much since they’d moved here. How had she missed this? “I think Ivan is just fine. Chad’s the one who’s worried. A new school, a new home…it’s a lot for him to adjust to. And I’m not sure he and Chad are getting along.”
Melanie shifted her weight. “I’m sure Chad’s trying his best with him.”
“Did I say he wasn’t?”
They stared at each other and then Melanie spluttered.
“Look at us, trying to get along. Sorry—” she said.
“No, look, Chad wants to…heal things, with Ivan. Truth is, this week Ivan’s been coming up with all sorts of lies about us. About Gilly…well,” she tittered and tucked her hair behind her ears. “He rung the police actually, tried to report her as a missing person, which is ridiculous of course, seeing as she’s only at the school—”
“—Lady Manor’s.”
“Yeah. Lady Manor’s. So, we’re going away for a while. To Jim’s. You’ve probably met him. He practically raised Chad. And we don’t know long it’s gonna take, but it could take a while. As a family, we’re going to take some time there, and get to the bottom of…why Ivan’s being like this.” She swallowed hard and looked at her feet.
“So, I won’t be seeing for you for a while?” Melanie’s voice went all squeaky.
“I guess not.”
“Not sure when you’re back?”
“No…I guess you’d have to ask Chad.”
“Well, I’m no pastor. Don’t know quite what you or Chad might think Ivan is doing wrong and I certainly don’t want to get in the way. I do worry, if I’m not overstepping the mark, that you and Chad…well, you’re so private about everything, you know? Maybe speak to Brett at the temple? The committee does a world of good. Just…Ivan seems normal to me.” Amber nodded, drying her hands on a tatty dish towel.
“Chad just doesn’t think there’s time for that. I’m sure you’re right, though,” she said, finally. From the front of the house, the door lock clicked into place. Melanie stumbled to her feet and Amber watched her stand to greet Chad, bristling that she should be the first to welcome him to what was meant to be their home.
“Always stalking around like the coyote!” Melanie called down the corridor and was rewarded by Chad’s deep laugh, before his broad shoulders came into view.
“My two favourite ladies,” he beamed, Amber nodding pointedly at his muddy boots before he unlaced them, perching against a full leather sofa. “Have you been getting to know each other properly, eh?”
“Very well.” Amber caught Melanie’s eye.
“And I’ve met your lovely Ivan,” Melanie offered.
“And he is…?” Chad asked Amber, expressionless.
“Upstairs. You can check if you want.”
“And Amber says I won’t be seeing you for a while,” Melanie continued. “Because you’re going on a family…holiday?” Chad nodded. “So, I guess there won’t be any lifts to the Temple for a while too, huh?”
Chad shuffled his feet.
Of course, that’s why she’s upset. Every week, trotting along after Chad like a lost dog.
“Well, I’d been meaning to say anyway, we should be breaking that car-sharing tradition now I’m married, Mel. People will talk.”
Melanie opened and closed her mouth like a guppy. She looked at Chad and then at Amber. “Fine,” she stuttered, communicating in tone and body that, in every way, she was not fine. Amber felt a flicker of guilt from Chad, a twitch around the ankle. She guessed he intended to push her away, just that bit more. Damage aversion.
“Well…I’m afraid we have lots to pack now, Mel.” Amber’s smile stretched and broke like cracked PVA glue. She gestured to the door. “Lovely to chat to you, though. We’ll have to drop round with Ivan some time for a barbecue. Perhaps you can invite George, was it? Sorry, Connor. When we’re back.” Melanie grabbed her coat and fumbled with the toggles, gritting her teeth. Was she about to cry?
“Or Gilly,” Melanie muttered, heading for the door.
“What do you mean?”
“You could bring Gilly and Ivan.”
“Not Gilly. She’s far too busy with her studies.” Why wouldn’t she leave it alone? The door slammed. Chad and Amber broke into loud whispers at her retreating back, like frantic locusts in fire.
“I hope you’re happy. You left me with her for far too long,” she hissed.
Chad came up behind her and kissed her neck.
“I sure am proud of you. And now everything’s in place. Things are gonna look up for us now. Just you wait and see.”
22ND JUNE, 2015
AMBER
Immediately, she spied a leer smacked over Uncle Jim’s face. She had known at the wedding she wasn’t going to like him. A ruddy smear of a man. He stood in front of a huge house—much too big for one man living alone—of brown brick, the colour of soil. It blended into the arid farmland behind him. Beyond it were rusty mountain peaks, green splatters breaking through feebly. There were no other houses nearby—perhaps anyone who stumbled across this way (undoubtably a lost hiker) thought Jim a large bear in the dead of night. Despite herself, she allowed a small smile to pass her lips at the thought. Chad locked the truck doors and he, Ivan and she walked towards Jim, three individuals desperate to escape from each other’s company.
“You’re looking real pretty,” Jim cried, insisting on a double cheek kiss, mouth slimy as frogs’ legs. She smiled tightly. She should have known he’d comment on her appearance first. In another world, in another time, perhaps that would have made her happy. She put on a brave front.
“Let’s get you settled in your room, Ivan. Jim’s got you your own room. That cool?”
“Erm I’m not sleeping with you or Chad, so isn’t that just…normal?”
She laughed but he scowled at her. Apparently, it wasn’t a joke then. Sure, he was irritable, but his tongue was only coiled permanently against Chad. She could win a son back, she felt. A mother’s love could protect anyone from anything. Even from a step-father, consumed by his own power lust and warped fantasies. Didn’t Satan feed on hatred and fear? She shuddered.
“Have a look around the ranch before you do,” Jim encouraged. “First-class view of the mountains and you can’t beat that.” He embraced Chad, and she winced at their clash of flesh and muscle.
“Good to see a human?” Chad punched him in the gut playfully. The ranch was a sea of orange dust and weeds, the hats of houses barely visible in the distance.
“Hell, I can do without them. But I’ve got a crate of beer the doctor tells me it would be better to share…”
Men always made a low-pitched ‘hey hey’ grunt to each other, Amber thought. It was as though they lost the ability to use words. Add alcohol to that, and even more brain cells faded.
She guided Ivan into the house. It was a good day—he didn’t need her sticky palm guiding his back, or a crutch—but she needed to touch him. Know that he was still there. Her boy. He seemed to sense that, avoiding shrugging her palms away.
“This house smells funny,” Ivan muttered.
“It’s a bit dated.” And distasteful. Green-chequered wallpaper. Fake leather sofas. The staircase gasped from the weight of their feet. She doubted Jim cleaned the place—or had even thought of hiring a cleaner.
“Want to try the bed out for tonight?” She closed the door behind them. Ivan perched on the linen; wrinkled his nose at the dust lining the bedhead. He caught her eye.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
She knew she needed to confide in Ivan, at least in part, about who she had married. What he was capable of. There was his intelligence to think about—she could already hear the cogs turning. Why were they spending a weekend with a relative his mom had never met? Then there were logistics: she might need help. If Chad did try any kind of conversion therapy technique…Well, she had height and the kind of fire only mothers had to protect their children, but Chad had girth and muscle. For now, there didn’t seem any option other than to play the demure housewife; respond to Chad’s beck and call. There was still a chance that his intentions were pure, that he had brought them here to unite them as a family. And she wanted that. To know she had not married an evil man.
But he had raised his hand to Ivan. He had raised his hand to her. And to see Ivan look at her in fear, with absolute disgust, was crumbling her spirit. He needed to understand that they were a unit against Chad’s irrational thoughts, against evil.
Of course, there was doubt. Confiding in Ivan that she didn’t feel safe, that she didn’t know if she could protect him…Was that something a mother did? This was the thought that she didn’t allow to dwell in her mind for more than a second. It was unbearable. She was afraid, and she couldn’t do this alone.
“Looking at you like what?”
“All funny.”
Worry must be etched all over her face. “I’m so sorry, Ivan.” She crouched down in front of him and took his hands in hers. His were piano hands—elegant fingers—though he never practiced much. Perhaps, after all this, he could apply himself. They could find a nice house somewhere; he could play and she could sing. “I didn’t listen to you about Chad. I thought maybe we were better off with him. God knows, you and Gilly deserved a proper father.”
There was a pause. Perhaps he wouldn’t answer her at all? Then: “We would have been fine just the three of us,” he said, retrieving one hand to pluck at a loose thread on the bed linen. She felt a flood of relief. He held some fond memories. There was a thread of love to rekindle.
“Don’t pull at that, it might unravel.”
“It’s old anyway.”
“Yes, I know that. All the same.”
Why was she talking about bed linen at a time like this? She shook herself and sat next to him. “I’m not always been the best at expressing my feelings—” Ivan snorted. She supposed she could take that on the chin. “—And you’re so strong, both of you are actually…” It surprised her how easily it came to refer to Gilly in present tense. “…so, I do struggle to talk to you about things. We both have our troubles when it comes to talking about how we feel, don’t we? But I want what’s best for you.” He shrugged noncommittally. Surveyed the room as if to say: this is what is best? She grimaced in solidarity.
“It’s temporary. Honestly, I’m just hopeful that maybe you and me, we can take this time here to talk. You and me against the world, huh? And we can do…well, all the things that you need to do on a farm, I guess. Might even milk a cow, what do you think?” He snorted. “We’re not going to be here for long, Ivan.”
“You sure? Not what Chad says.”
She frowned. “What did he say to you?”
“That Uncle Jim would hit some sense into me, sort of thing. Because I’ve been ‘playing up’. I’ve been ‘disrespectful’ to his authority, apparently.” He rolled his eyes and looked longingly over at his phone, perched on the top of his rucksack.
A wash of rage seized her, mixed in with nausea. She bit her lip. “Well, you don’t listen to Chad, do you? I’m certainly not going to let anyone raise their hand to you, ever again. I couldn’t forgive myself.”
He looked at her and realisation coloured his cheeks. It was as though vitality rose to the surface of his skin. “We leaving again?” She gave a small smile. Her boy was so quick. “But aren’t you worried about what people think?”
She didn’t have to think about that one. “Yeah, I’m worried. And don’t jump to conclusions. I’m not thinking of leaving Chad.” She saw Ivan’s face fall so she added, “Not yet. I can’t stand that he raised his hand to you. That’s not the man I should have brought into your life. But I have to…Well, everyone deserves a second chance, don’t they? Maybe we can all find it here?”
She looked at him hopefully, chewing on the inside of her cheek. His jaw was set, and she found her answer in it.
“I know it would be hard for you to forgive him, Ivan, I get that. And you come to me as soon as he so much as raises his voice at you, okay? I promise, this is his last chance. Because maybe you’re right, we were fine just the three of us, weren’t we?” Her chin wobbled.
A marriage to Chad had been a patching of sorts. There were only certain circles of the church open to single mothers. And most of them sought to patch the vacancy in your life for you. It was difficult to gain influence or an audience for her work as a visionary, as an unattached female. Folks around these parts attached derogatory terms to her. There was a sense of distrust, like the fear of witches concocting spells against the town. A husband seemed to ground that fear, presented her as a caregiver, a sandwich-maker, the giver of cupcakes, and the quaint visionary at the weekends. But wasn’t it time she let go of her own fear, of what people thought of her?
“You let him hit me.” He slunk away from her, hunched over. She swallowed a lump of saliva hard. Had she really expected to gain his trust again so easily? Since the accident, she had barely been able to look at him. She knew in her grieving she’d completely abandoned her son, and any fit of rage that seized Chad, she had allowed to erupt—whether verbally, or physically. She had been an empty vessel, without strength to speak out.
“I don’t recognise myself.”
It was the truth. She thought she’d made her bed the night she had covered up for Chad. The night she had sealed her daughter into the dry earth of his back garden. And then she had died a little inside, when the police had replied to her tweet and said there was no CCTV. That only her word could make Gilly’s death real, or not real. And when it rained, and all she could hear were the drops reverberating on the roof tiles, she had imagined Gilly’s body bloating and rising. She wished it would. So that people could see what they’d done. So that she could cry. “But I’m recognising that sin now, Ivan. And I’m changing. Just going to need you to trust me. Believe me—I’m promising you this—that the second Chad or Jim raises their hand to you, if they dare? We’re out of here. Your safety is the most important thing in this world.” Her voice broke, fear creeping in. They were so isolated here. If anything happened, they’d be all on their own.
He nodded, distracted. “But we’re picking Gilly up, right?” Oh. A sucker punch to her stomach. That was the condition of her trust? Of course, she deserved this pain. This catch-22.
“Of course,” she blurted. How could she tell him anything else? But they couldn’t exactly go to the school, either. “I’ll ring them in advance.” She’d work something out. Gilly’s escape from boarding school, perhaps. Something Chad had suggested a while ago—and only now did the craziness of that idea become somewhat logical to her mind. It was better that he believed in Gilly’s existence out there somewhere—because that part was true. She felt Gilly’s soul very close to them. He smiled at her, a half-moon wavering. She basked in its light and took his hand. So small.
23RD JUNE, 2015
AMBER
At 1 AM, something woke her. It was not a sound as much as an absence. She turned over, crusts of sleep clouding her peripheral vision, and she saw Chad’s side of the bed was empty. The cotton sheet still held the heat of his body. She called out, just loud enough so that he would hear if he was hidden in the bathroom, but not too loud to risk waking Jim, but no one answered. Her whole body went rigid with an electric current: Ivan.
She flew from the room and along the corridor, wrenching open Ivan’s door to reveal her worst nightmare. Ivan was gone. Her breathing curdled. Think, think! The backyard? His bedroom overlooked it. She pressed her face against the glass, trying to navigate through the gloom. Her eyes took a while to focus…and then she saw them. Two silhouettes, lit by the distant moon’s reflection on the pond surface. They were heading towards it, Chad trailing an old hunting rifle of Jim’s, which left her mouth dry. Just earlier, Chad had joked around with Jim about their old hunting days, talking about how they used to shoot pesky badgers or moles causing havoc on the farm and, occasionally, use it to shoot a lame horse. Put it out of its misery. Perhaps it was a trial: get Ivan all scared in the dark—because Ivan still needed a night lamp—and make him shoot anything that crept around in the wild outback that led from the yard. But what if he was planning to use it on Ivan? She’d been appalled by their conversation and had voiced her disgust, but Jim had shaken his head at her. Said it was nature’s way: it was often kinder to bring brief cruelty. In this way, humanity could properly govern over God’s creations. And the way Jim looked at him…like the runt of a litter. Disposable. Surely, it would stain a boy, to be raised by such a man, no motherly influence in sight?
