Andrew looks at me over the top of Scout’s wispy crown. His expression is cold and pitiless. “I’m not punishing Cathy. I’m punishingyou. I saw the note, Hazel. I saw what you did.”
Scout wriggles in his arms, threatening to spill right out of them. His hands are thrust forward toward the steaming bath, legs kicking behind him.
“Baff!” he cries out, smiling. “Baff!”
“That’s right, Scout. It’s time for your bath.”
“Andrew,please—”
“It was clever, what you did. Writing those words like that where I couldn’t see ’em. Under other circumstances, I’d admire you.”
He lowers Scout toward the water without taking off his yellow sleep suit.His clothes will get wet!I think absurdly.Don’t let his little sleep suit get wet!It’s then that I have the dreadful realization that Andrew must have taken Scout right out of his cot.
I think of Cathy waking up tomorrow morning to Scout’s empty bed, and I’m filled with despair. Scout is looking at me with delight as his feet splash the surface, his laughter ringing like a small silver bell.
Andrew holds my gaze. “Cathy came to Belle Vue today. She brought a friend with her too. I like your sister, Hazel. Doing this gives me no pleasure. But I warned you about trying to escape. I told you it would have consequences. Now here we are.”
I take a step toward him, holding out my hands. “I’ll do anything, Andrew. I’ll be anyone you want. Please just… please don’t hurt him!”
“I’ve heard it’s painless.” Andrew’s voice is gentle, almost apologetic. “Once he stops struggling and lets go, it’ll be like he just fell asleep.”
I’m panicking. I have todosomething, but what? I’m weak with lack of food, lack of sleep. I’m not strong enough to fight Andrew off, and where could I go if I did? The house is a prison.
Scout beams as Andrew lowers him further, up to his thighs now. The water swirls around him, his little face pink and delighted in the steam. I think of emptying my bag in Maria’s room, the laughing fit I’d had. What had I even been laughing about, anyway? A stupid calendar? My hand reaches into my pocket, almost subconsciously. I experience a vivid memory of my self-defense classes with Kashvi, her good, strong voice telling us that anything can be a weapon, it’s the surprise that’s the trick.
29
Cathy wakes early, sitting up in bed with a frown. The covers are mussed, kicked to the end of the mattress. Another restless night, she thinks. She picks up her phone, checking the time. Just gone half five. She stretches, annoyed at the early wake-up. Scout will be up soon, clamoring for her attention. It’s a hard age, this one. He needs her all the time. It’s draining, sometimes.God, she thinks,but I wouldn’t be without him.
Cathy leans back onto the pillows and skims her text messages. There’s one from her side job, dropping her from another shift:
Sorry Cat, times are hard for all of us right now.
Cathy deletes it, trying not to think about the loss of money, the rent. The bills, her debts. The boys needing new clothes, both growing so fast, like beanstalks. The next few messages are all from Suzie, most of them sent last night and one early this morning.
12:01
Have U taken note to police yet?
12:07
Teddy says we should have gone soon as we found the cats.
01:36
Me again—can’t sleep. Call in to shop tomorrow. Important!
This last was sent with a string of heart emojis. Cathy regards it sourly and nearly puts her phone back down, but ignoring Suzie is like kicking a puppy. Suzie, with her capacity for good and her willingness to please. Cathy sighs and fires off a quick message.
Just woke up. Police took deets. Call later.
Cathy scrapes her hair from her face, fixing it into a topknot. She’d called the police last night, just before midnight. No one manning the station after ten, apparently. No, she couldn’t see someone right away. If it was urgent, she could call 999. Cathy had felt like throwing the phone at the wall. They’d taken her details and told her they’d be in touch, but Cathy had little faith in that. Two years prior, the house next door had been burgled and the police didn’t turn up until a week later.
Cathy yawns until her jaw cracks and pulls on her robe. She’ll go to the police station as soon as it opens. They won’t be able to ignore her then. She shivers, pulling thick socks over the cuffs of her jogging bottoms. Since she turned off the radiator in her bedroom,she’s keenly felt the cold but heating bills are crazy these days. It means her room is cold and damp and drafty, but she’ll manage. She always does.
Cathy walks into the kitchen and fills the coffee machine with water, turning it on at the wall. She’s thinking about Joe finding Hazel standing in his fields of long grass and wildflowers, tall heads of poppies swaying in the breeze. How the hives must have looked, like crash-landed satellites, smoking craters in the ground. The air smelling of smoke and honey and melted wax. Hazel, raw and swollen with bee stings, her skin blotchy.
But she was still smiling, Joe had told her mother, and Cathy knew exactly the smile he’d meant. She’d seen it herself, the day she went down Shooter’s Hill, the day she’d discovered her two goldfish, Britney and Christina, dead in their tank, the water polluted with bleach. A big, big smile that barely fit Hazel’s face.