touch next to the
tugging and pulling that finally breaks me.
‘Get off me!’ I shout. Everyone pauses in their effort but no one takes their hands away. ‘All of you.’
There’s a flurry of activity and hushed voices. Alex and Jane leave the room and David follows them with ‘sorry’ and ‘not been herself recently’.
‘Do get in touch if there’s anything we can do,’ I hear Jane say from the hallway. ‘Of course, of course,’ David replies. Even an emergency has its etiquette, a
polite pseudo-concern, but everyone knows the most that will happen is a follow-up call. I want to rush into the hallway and punch Jane in the face, though all I can do is slide to the floor. With
a clatter of footsteps and banging doors they’re gone.
David comes back into the kitchen. From my position on the floor, I see only his feet. He stands next to me, motionless. Spotlights on the ceiling reflect elongated white shapes on the polished
leather of his shoes, but the pattern is interrupted by a splash of gravy from the meal. Seconds pass. Slowly, David bends down on to his haunches with clicking knees, and uses a tissue to wipe the
small imperfection from his shoe. He stays in this position to deliver the speech that I know is coming.
‘We have a business to run,’ he says. ‘We’re partners. There are meetings on Monday and projects that need your input.’ His voice is soft and he spreads out his
words as if he’s talking to a toddler. ‘Take a good look at yourself, Rachel. What do you see? Where has my wife gone? You’ve had a week now, and I’m relying on you to pull
yourself together and get back to business. If you don’t get this hysteria in check, I’ll take everything away: this house, your car, your nice clothes. You try and stand up to my army
of lawyers. And as for your little detour in the woods, I won’t protect you any more.’
‘But what about the man?’ I say. ‘His body. If they bulldoze the area they’ll find him.’
‘You don’t even know if they’re building in the same part of the woods where you left him.’
‘How do we find out?’
‘There is no “we”, Rachel. You need to move on. You left no traces? All your things were accounted for?’
‘Yes,’ I rub the floor with my palm, ‘but it’ll be obvious he didn’t die from natural causes.’
‘It’s safer to leave him where he is. He was a drunk. A loser. Bad things happen to bad people. If someone discovers the body, there’s nothing to lead them to you, and no one
will bother to look too closely into the death of a homeless man.’
‘But I’m scared.’
‘Deal with it.’
‘But, David—’
‘Enough.’ He pinches my nose and the force of it snaps my head back, cracking my skull against a drawer handle. My mouth opens in a silent gasp. With his other hand David pushes the
dirty tissue into my mouth. The gravy is a cold slime on my tongue, and the paper hits the back of my throat. I struggle between breath and vomit.
David stands and his shoes swivel, taking him from the room. Before he leaves, he opens the boot-room door.
I lean forward and retch, spitting the tissue into my hand. It’s brown with the watery sauce and soaked in saliva bubbles. From the hallway I hear David’s footsteps. He whistles to
the dogs. Leads jangle, barking, a door opens and shuts, then silence. I pull myself up and run the tap to swill out my mouth. It takes several goes, leaning my face into the stream, water
splashing over my face and soaking the front of my dress, before my mouth is clean. My tongue holds the memory of the pressure from the tissue.
Would Will still want me if he saw me like this? Would he chase after David and smash him to the ground? Or perhaps he’d think, like I do, that I deserve all I get.
On the worktop, the carcass from dinner is split and flayed. A dozy fly buzzes round the meat. I take a fresh bottle of wine from the fridge, pressing the cold glass on my forehead and cheeks
before
tugging and pulling that finally breaks me.
‘Get off me!’ I shout. Everyone pauses in their effort but no one takes their hands away. ‘All of you.’
There’s a flurry of activity and hushed voices. Alex and Jane leave the room and David follows them with ‘sorry’ and ‘not been herself recently’.
‘Do get in touch if there’s anything we can do,’ I hear Jane say from the hallway. ‘Of course, of course,’ David replies. Even an emergency has its etiquette, a
polite pseudo-concern, but everyone knows the most that will happen is a follow-up call. I want to rush into the hallway and punch Jane in the face, though all I can do is slide to the floor. With
a clatter of footsteps and banging doors they’re gone.
David comes back into the kitchen. From my position on the floor, I see only his feet. He stands next to me, motionless. Spotlights on the ceiling reflect elongated white shapes on the polished
leather of his shoes, but the pattern is interrupted by a splash of gravy from the meal. Seconds pass. Slowly, David bends down on to his haunches with clicking knees, and uses a tissue to wipe the
small imperfection from his shoe. He stays in this position to deliver the speech that I know is coming.
‘We have a business to run,’ he says. ‘We’re partners. There are meetings on Monday and projects that need your input.’ His voice is soft and he spreads out his
words as if he’s talking to a toddler. ‘Take a good look at yourself, Rachel. What do you see? Where has my wife gone? You’ve had a week now, and I’m relying on you to pull
yourself together and get back to business. If you don’t get this hysteria in check, I’ll take everything away: this house, your car, your nice clothes. You try and stand up to my army
of lawyers. And as for your little detour in the woods, I won’t protect you any more.’
‘But what about the man?’ I say. ‘His body. If they bulldoze the area they’ll find him.’
‘You don’t even know if they’re building in the same part of the woods where you left him.’
‘How do we find out?’
‘There is no “we”, Rachel. You need to move on. You left no traces? All your things were accounted for?’
‘Yes,’ I rub the floor with my palm, ‘but it’ll be obvious he didn’t die from natural causes.’
‘It’s safer to leave him where he is. He was a drunk. A loser. Bad things happen to bad people. If someone discovers the body, there’s nothing to lead them to you, and no one
will bother to look too closely into the death of a homeless man.’
‘But I’m scared.’
‘Deal with it.’
‘But, David—’
‘Enough.’ He pinches my nose and the force of it snaps my head back, cracking my skull against a drawer handle. My mouth opens in a silent gasp. With his other hand David pushes the
dirty tissue into my mouth. The gravy is a cold slime on my tongue, and the paper hits the back of my throat. I struggle between breath and vomit.
David stands and his shoes swivel, taking him from the room. Before he leaves, he opens the boot-room door.
I lean forward and retch, spitting the tissue into my hand. It’s brown with the watery sauce and soaked in saliva bubbles. From the hallway I hear David’s footsteps. He whistles to
the dogs. Leads jangle, barking, a door opens and shuts, then silence. I pull myself up and run the tap to swill out my mouth. It takes several goes, leaning my face into the stream, water
splashing over my face and soaking the front of my dress, before my mouth is clean. My tongue holds the memory of the pressure from the tissue.
Would Will still want me if he saw me like this? Would he chase after David and smash him to the ground? Or perhaps he’d think, like I do, that I deserve all I get.
On the worktop, the carcass from dinner is split and flayed. A dozy fly buzzes round the meat. I take a fresh bottle of wine from the fridge, pressing the cold glass on my forehead and cheeks
before
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