Try Not to Breathe by Holly Seddon Page B

would give her away and it took him a long time to learn that. Was that other woman, the Fiona he had fallen in love with, just a siren, drawing him onto the rocks?
    After a while, the tantrum had died down and he had heard Fiona moving frantically around their bedroom. He heard drawers open and close, heard the wardrobe sliding open. It took a few minutes to realize that she was going through his things: she was looking for a bank statement.
    Jacob had been mystified. He regularly gave her his bank card to get cash with, or pick something up for him, she could have easily checked the balance or got a mini-statement, so why would he hide his bank statements?
    After pouring himself a large whiskey from the expensive Christmas bottle his father, Graham, had given him, Jacob had thrown it to the back of his mouth and trudged wearily up the stairs. He wasn’t a whiskey man and the spirit had burst across his forehead and fogged his thoughts.
    He had seen Fiona on the floor on her knees in their bedroom, surrounded by bits of paper, old receipts and bills.
    “Where the fuck are your bank statements?” she’d demanded, with eyes so fierce he’d had to look away.
    “Fiona, look…” he’d begun, trying to shake the whiskey mist.
    “Don’t say anything! Don’t tell me anything other than where your fucking bank statements are!” Her eyes had burned red and her face was so wet with tears that her shining auburn hair had stuck to it.
    He had walked out of their newly decorated bedroom and into their smaller spare room, which had been appropriated as a makeshift office. Slowly, so that he didn’t make any mistakes, he wrote down a web address, username, password and PIN.
    He walked back into the bedroom, placed the piece of paper next to Fiona’s foot and said carefully, “I haven’t been sent paper statements for years ’cos I get them online. Here are my Internet banking details so you can see my statements for the last few years and can check my account anytime. If that’s what you need to do, then that’s what you need to do.”
    Jacob had hoped this would snap Fiona out of it. Put a stop to it and have her realize how sad an end to their honeymoon period this would represent.
    It didn’t work.
    For the next three weeks Fiona had audited his every transaction, calling him over to the screen frequently so he could explain every pound and penny. They got a joint bank account after that.
    Financially at least, Jacob had nothing to hide.
    —
    Jacob didn’t know how long he had been sitting outside his home, staring at the back of the big Volvo and gripping his steering wheel with white knuckles. Eventually, he eased himself out of the car and trudged toward his house.
    He knew that Fiona was waiting inside. Jacob opened the front door and walked slowly into the hall. The Fiona on the phone earlier had sounded like his Fiona. Now, with her back to the door so her bump was invisible, she even looked like the old Fiona.
    Jacob stayed standing in the hallway. Fiona spun around a little unsteadily so that the bump swung into view.
    “Hey,” he called quietly, and as she walked to his open arms he saw that she had been crying.
    “Fi…” he started, pulling her into a hug.
    “Don’t,” she answered quietly, “just cuddle me.”
    They stayed locked in a tight hug for a long time, saying nothing.

“Y ou’re very quiet, Amy.”
    “I feel really bad.”
    “You don’t need to feel bad, no one will blame you.”
    Amy closed her eyes and turned her head toward the passenger window. Her shoulders faced the door and the seatbelt cut into her chest. No hand on her knee, no murmuring in her ear. Tears began to form and she struggled to hold them in.
    “He shouldn’t have been there, why was he there?”
    No answer came.
    “I shouldn’t have done this. You won’t be able to help me now,” she started to sob again.
    “You’re overthinking this.”
    Sniffing, she scrunched her eyes as tight as she could. These