Until Death (19 page)

The Wolf stared back at the wall of metal behind them. ‘All the riches of the world, my friend.’ He paused. ‘And all its sorrows. Some say if you stand here on a still night you can fancy you can hear the shouts of those trapped inside. The ones who paid or hid to get a better life, inside the cans.’

‘You’re yanking my chain.’

The Wolf shrugged as they walked along pushing their bikes, like a couple of ten-year-olds in the park. ‘The world is brutal and tough, people will do a lot for a better life. But you try hiding in the corner of one of these monsters, walled up behind other crates, for weeks at a time. It would eat at your sanity.’

‘This one is missing.’ Jonas had stopped by a battered pale blue container, whose door didn’t have a security seal. The Wolf swore softly, knowing the captain would have to be told, forms filled out. He made a note of the four-digit code written on the side of the container and they walked on.

‘Have you ever found stowaways?’

The Wolf paused. ‘Just once. It was a bad business.’ He paused and picked away some peeling paint on the rail with a fingernail. He stared out across the ocean. The vast expanse of nothing tended to make people contemplate. This had been a problem that had frayed his nerves when the Wolf was first on the job, but he had become de-sensitised to it over the years. ‘People disappear on ships, Jonas. It’s the Wild West out here, the usual rules don’t apply.’ He turned his bicycle round and grinned. ‘Come on, let’s get you back to safety. You know the one advantage of cycling on a ship? You never have to lock your bike, cos no one can steal it.’ He looked Jonas straight in the eye. Jonas’s eyes flitted to his for a moment and then looked away.

K
elly could feel the manic energy pulsating from Christos as he paced the living room. He was putting her on edge. Twelve steps across to one bank of windows, swivel, turn, twelve steps back. She moved silently past him to pick up a discarded cup on the coffee table and glanced at his iPad. Before the screen switched to black she saw a weather chart of the Atlantic, large concentric rings radiating out from a tight centre. A storm at sea.

She moved into the kitchen to get out of his way and glimpsed Medea placing some papers back in the bin and closing the lid. She had been rifling through its discarded contents again. She could hear the loud drone of the TV from downstairs where the children were watching cartoons.

Her husband came in after her. ‘Sit down.’

She wasn’t going to disagree.

Medea walked over to the far counter and picked up a pile of papers, walked back slowly to the table. Kelly bit down her irritation. It was all an act; the woman could sprint if it was to her advantage. ‘I’ve got the brochures,’ Medea said to Christos.

The vein began to twitch in Kelly’s eye. ‘What brochures?’

‘Have a look,’ said Medea. ‘You need to study them and then we can all make an informed decision.’

Kelly felt the floor slide away from her. She caught a glimpse of a large Edwardian building set in landscaped gardens on the cover of one of the brochures in her mother-in-law’s hands. She was going to be shut up in a madhouse, walled up in a psychiatric facility, like a Victorian melodrama where a wife who had become inconvenient was stored, never to see the light of the world again.

‘We think the children should go to boarding school.’

So this was how he planned to punish her, through the children. ‘They are not going to boarding school.’ She saw Christos and his mother exchange looks. Kelly felt the anger beginning to flare inside her. They’d already decided. It was another sign that she didn’t exist. ‘Yannis is only seven years old.’

‘He’s been getting into trouble at school,’ said Christos.

‘Lots of children get into trouble at school,’ Kelly answered. ‘You can’t send him away so young.’

‘Hush, child,’ said Medea.

‘Stop calling me a child – I’m a grown woman.’

Medea narrowed her eyes at Kelly and took a deep intake of breath. ‘Be careful, Kelly. Children need a calm environment. Shouting is bad for everybody.’

Kelly gripped the sides of her chair to stop losing control. The hypocrisy was breathtaking. This, from a woman who had never lived further than a mile from her son, who was still living with him when he was nearly fifty, like an East German Stasi spy, noting, judging and condemning.

Kelly knew defiance wouldn’t work so she tried to reason with them. ‘They are so young. Just wait a few years till we know more about how their characters are forming, then we can make the decision.’

‘This needs quick and decisive action,’ Christos said. ‘They will have the benefits of some of the finest schooling available. How can you not want that for your children?’

‘This is too soon, they are too young. They need the love and guidance of their family.’

‘After what’s happened, I think this is the best for everyone,’ Medea added.

Kelly picked up the brochures and scanned the front pages. One of the schools was in Somerset, the other in Yorkshire. He’d chosen well, they were miles apart. It would never be possible for her to collect them both without him knowing beforehand …

Put the children far away and she had no reason to run. Put the children far away and she would never be missed by anyone. They were the last tie making her real. He would, and could, make her disappear.

‘I think they should start at the beginning of November.’

‘But it’s October 27th!’

‘The schools are amenable to them starting right away, halfway through the term. That way they’ll be fully adjusted to it by Christmas.’

It couldn’t be. She began to beg. ‘Please, Christos, I won’t run away again, please don’t send them away.’

‘Yannis is acting up, and Florence, she’s so silent, too withdrawn for a child of her age. A change of scene will bring her out of herself,’ Medea said.

‘She is not withdrawn.’ Kelly was getting exasperated. ‘When did you go and see these schools anyway? Why was I not consulted?’

‘Sylvie went to take a look at the schools,’ Christos said.

‘Sylvie. Does Sylvie have children?’

‘Hush, child—’

‘I’m not a child.’ She turned to Christos. ‘You send your PA, who has no children, to choose a school for them? It’s a bloody insult. They need their mother.’

‘Kelly—’ Medea was too close to her now, her sandalwood perfume cloying.

‘And you, you talk about childrearing like you made a success of it – look at the monster you raised!’

Medea slapped her across the cheek. Not hard, her arms were old and her aim poor. ‘A dog from the street will always be a dog from the street.’

Kelly got up from her chair, her anger in full flow. Christos grabbed her arm to stop her. He was looking at the door; the children were standing there. All five of them were frozen in a horrid silent tableau of twisted relationships.

‘Mum?’ It was Florence, her voice straining to be heard in the large room. ‘You said you were going to drop in to the theatre this afternoon and give out the Halloween invitations. Can we come?’

Kelly had to take the time to sit back down and collect herself, shame and anger and disgust battling through her. ‘Yes, of course. Go and put your shoes on and we can go.’

They hovered for a moment in the doorway and then retreated.

‘Kelly.’ Christos was looking at her. ‘You can only take one.’

‘One what?’

‘One child. Not both. You can see my point of view.’

She paused for a moment to let what he was saying sink in. ‘You’re telling me I can never take both my children—’

‘Never.’

She could hear the scratching and cooing of the pigeons trapped in the attic. She could feel the panic beginning to lap around her chest.

‘And the school thing has already been decided. They’ll go after Halloween. Medea will take them. No point in hanging around once a decision has been made. Sylvie can arrange the details if it’s going to stress you.’ He paused. ‘And one more thing: I want you to tell them they’re going away. Now.’

‘T
here’s something I need to talk to you two about,’ Kelly said. ‘Something important.’ The kids were upstairs in the kitchen, popping olives into their mouths and crunching through breadsticks. They had their shoes on to go to the theatre but they wouldn’t be needing them now. She stood in the doorway for a moment just watching them, trying to hold on to every second of the calm before the storm. There was a vivid red sunset beyond them, a strong wind pushing clouds at speed past the windows, throwing shadows fleetingly across the kitchen.

The kids didn’t answer, their mouths were too full of food. She pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘I need to talk to you about school.’

Yannis groaned.

‘Your dad and I …’ She tailed off. They were still now, sensing the struggle in her voice. She swallowed. ‘Your dad thinks you should go to boarding school. That it would be a really great opportunity for you both if you went to boarding school.’

She’d said it. She tasted something on her tongue like ash. She dragged her eyes up from the table to look at them. They glanced at each other.

‘What’s boarding school?’ Yannis asked.

‘It’s a school in the country where you go and stay with lots of other children and you get a fantastic education.’ She was trying to keep her voice upbeat, trying to believe what she was saying herself. ‘There are lots of fields and green grass and you can play outdoors loads and make lots of new friends. You can still do your horse-riding, right at the school too.’

Yannis was looking excited, but his joy was punctured by Florence.

‘And we have to sleep in a dorm every night and we no longer live with you.’ Her voice was cold.

‘It’s like a sleepover?’ Yannis asked.

Florence scoffed. ‘No, stupid. You sleep there every night for weeks and weeks.’

‘Florence—’

‘Will you be there too, Mummy?’ Yannis’s face had clouded now, his confusion evident.

‘No, I won’t. I will be here at home, but I will come and see you very often, whenever you want, and at weekends.’

‘So you won’t be there with Florence and me?’

‘No, not all the time. There will be other people who will look after you. But also, Florence will be at one school and you will be at another one. Dad’s picked schools that best suit your characters.’

‘But I want to be with Florence.’

‘I’m afraid that’s not possible, Yannis.’ He was trying to process what this meant, and she could see he didn’t get it. ‘You’ll have so much more freedom at boarding school, it’s a much better place than the city—’

‘We went to Lindsey’s place. But that wasn’t better.’ Florence was staring at the floor, her face closing down.

‘Yeah, Lindsey’s place wasn’t better.’

She needed to get this conversation back under control. ‘It’s hard to imagine what it will be like until you’re there.’

‘I don’t want to leave my friends.’ Florence again.

‘You can still see your friends in the holidays and you’ll make new ones too.’

‘Do we have a choice?’ she asked.

‘It really is for the best.’

‘It’s the best thing for you, you mean.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ Her daughter was tracing her finger in a random pattern on the tabletop. ‘Look at me, Florence. What do you mean by that?’

She did look at her. The pale eyes stared back at her, but they didn’t show confusion or hurt. They showed pity. ‘We have to go away because you’re ill.’

‘What makes you say that?’ She could feel the anger beginning to thump its way through her skull.

‘You’re not well, in the head. You can’t look after us.’

‘There is nothing wrong with me at all. Who said there was?’

‘Dad said you would deny it.’

Kelly opened her mouth and then shut it again. She was teetering on the edge of a world that made no sense, where the more she protested her point of view, the more something else was inferred or believed. ‘Look at me, Florence, look at me.’ She reached across and put her hand over her daughter’s. ‘There is nothing at all wrong. I love you both, more than anything; boarding school is a great opportunity that many families would kill for. It will take some adjusting to, that’s all.’ Kelly pushed the school brochures that she had in her hand over the table towards them. Florence wouldn’t touch them. Kelly saw a tear roll silently down her perfect cheek. ‘Flo …’

She watched her daughter trying to hold back the tears. ‘I’ll go, but only if it makes you get better quicker. Granny said she didn’t think it would, but you have to promise me you’ll get better.’

‘Mummy! Are you going to die?’ Yannis could evidently feel the emotional cross-currents in the room, but he was too young to understand what they meant. Tears were beginning to crest on his bottom lids.

‘I am not going to die. There is nothing wrong with me. It was your dad’s decision to send you to boarding school. Medea is a silly old woman who really doesn’t know what she’s talking about. You mustn’t worry.’

A large cloud slid across the low sun, plunging the room into early evening cold. ‘Do you have any other questions?’

She saw her children looking at each other, cutting her out. She got up from the table and left the room. She walked on autopilot down the curving stairs, into her bedroom and into her bathroom. She opened the cabinet and pulled out the bottle of pills. She gulped down two, feeling the wash of shame lap at her as she did so. Two really pulled her away from herself. It was just what she wanted right now.

T
he next day Georgie rang Kelly but her phone was switched off and went straight to voicemail. There was nothing left to do but go and call at the flat, so she took a pool car and drove into central London. She was sitting in a queue of traffic in front of St Pancras Station, waiting to turn right and park outside Kelly’s flat, when she saw Kelly walking east past her on the other side of the road. She pulled a U-turn when the light went green, prompting a crescendo of horns from all directions and tried to follow, but Kelly had crossed four lanes of traffic to the other side of the street and was standing outside an Underground entrance, looking behind her. Georgie thought she was about to enter but she turned and began walking again, cutting down a side street.