Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
It was as if a wash of ice ran through Jen’s veins. A million thoughts entered her mind, but her throat was clogged with terror.
‘Dad?’ she repeated shakily. ‘You mean… your…’ She swallowed, unable to repeat the word.
‘Dad,’ he confirmed, his frown lowering. She hated seeing it. He’d more or less stopped the habit since their arrival in New Zealand.
‘But…’ She could feel the fear freezing her mind, and she looked at Sam, needing his quiet strength now more than ever. His face was grave and attentive, and he gave a brief nod.
Sam put his hand on Jen’s back, then turned to Liam.
‘No worries, mate,’ said Sam. ‘I’ll go through the house and close all the curtains. No chance of seeing anyone you don’t want to tonight.’
Sam disappeared, leaving Jen alone with Liam. She could hear Sam talking quietly to Kate, no doubt explaining what he was doing and what Liam had revealed.
Sam re-appeared. ‘All done in the back of the house. Your grandma’s got you a hot chocolate, so come on through.’
Liam took Sam’s hand and Jen followed them into the kitchen.
‘See, everything is closed. The outside will stay outside, and you’re safe inside surrounded by us all,’ said Sam.
Liam visibly relaxed, and Jen went over to where Liam had been sleeping earlier and pulled back the cover. Liam climbed onto the cushion, and Jen gently pulled up the cover over Liam’s shoulder, resting it there for a few seconds.
Sam beckoned Jen over while Kate fussed over Liam.
‘I’ll go look around outside,’ he whispered. ‘I won’t be long.’
‘Be careful,’ she said. ‘You don’t know him.’
He put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry. If he is out there, it’s him you should worry about.’
She shook her head as she watched Sam slip out the front door.
‘Where’s Sam gone?’ asked Liam, sitting up, looking anxiously at his mother and grandmother.
‘He’s making sure that everything’s locked up for the night. That… everything is as it should be.’ She didn’t want to mention Alistair. She wanted Liam to forget, even if she couldn’t.
While Kate stayed with Liam, Jen went around the house, peering out of windows, checking every angle, but all she saw was Sam, a hefty piece of wood in his hand, prowling through the garden, before heading out to the beach.
There was a bright sickle moon in the sky, so he should be able to see if there was anyone about.
She met him at the front door. ‘Any sign of him?’
‘No, nothing.’
The relief undid her, and she sat at the foot of the stairs and burst into tears. Sam sat beside her and pulled her into his arms.
‘It’s OK, Jen. You’re not alone anymore.
I’ll find him if he’s out there. And let’s face it, maybe he was never there.
Liam is an imaginative boy, maybe he saw a shadow?
Remember how he reacted to my appearing in his room?
Maybe someone wandered in from the beach thinking it was a public footpath — it wouldn’t be the first time — and it set Liam off. ’
Jen lifted her head and swiped away the tears. ‘I’m sorry, it’s the shock.’ She jumped up.
‘You don’t have to apologise,’ Sam said. ‘I mean, I don’t know what went on between you and your ex — that’s between you two — but I get it was rough. It’s bound to be a shock if you think he’s turned up. But he may not have done.’
She nodded. What Sam said made sense. Liam had a vivid imagination. Maybe he had made it up — saw something, or someone, which made him think of his father. Yes, she thought, rising and pacing the hall. That was logical. She took a deep breath. ‘You’re right. Of course you’re right. Thanks, Sam.’
He rose and caressed her arms. They were close now, and for a moment she nearly forgot everything because all she wanted was to be folded into his embrace and held by him in a way that had little to do with security.
‘Mum!’ shouted Liam.
Jen jumped away from Sam and went running into the kitchen.
‘Liam,’ she said quietly, determined to keep him calm. She sat beside him and drew him into her arms. He was no longer crying, just looked exhausted. She looked up at Kate. ‘I’ll take him up to bed now, I think. He can sleep with me tonight if he wants.’
‘Good idea,’ said Kate. ‘You two go to bed. I’ll stay up to make sure nothing untoward happens.’
‘No,’ said Sam firmly. ‘You look tired, too.’ He glanced around. ‘This chair looks more comfortable than my bed in the caravan. I’ll stay here, keep an ear out for Liam and make sure none of you get disturbed.’
They all knew what he meant. He was going to stand guard at the house while they slept. And she was glad of it.
Kate went in search of pillows and duvet for Sam, while Jen stroked Liam’s face. His eyelids began to droop until he fell asleep with a sigh.
‘Can I get you anything?’ she asked Sam.
‘A whisky would be good.’
‘Sure.’ She carefully disentangled herself from Liam and went and poured him one.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘you and Liam should go to bed and get some sleep. You’re both done in.’
She glanced at the curtained window. The colours were bright and unfaded down their centre because they were rarely drawn over the window. There’d been no need.
‘Jen, if he’s out there, I will find him and make sure he never hurts you, or Liam, again. I promise you.’ He kissed her on the cheek and pulled away before she’d registered it. ‘Now, go to bed.’
She nodded and stepped away. ‘You’ll be OK here?’
‘Sure. I’ve slept in a lot worse places, believe me.’
She nodded again, unwilling to leave him. But leave him, she had to. Because he was right; she felt exhausted and emotionally drained.
‘Goodnight, then.’
She slid her hands carefully under Liam and carried him out of the kitchen. The last thing she saw as she carried him up the stairs was Sam. He hadn’t moved. His eyes were trained on her.
The next morning, Jen rolled over gently to check on Liam. She couldn’t settle in her own room and so had snuck into Liam’s bed. Role reversal, she thought. But she couldn’t have done anything else. She was terrified Alistair would come in the night and simply take Liam.
She laid her head back on the pillow as she absorbed every detail of her little boy’s face. Did he really see Alistair, or only a figment that represented Alistair and all the fear that his father had filled him with?
She had no way of knowing. Despite what it would mean about the depths of Liam’s fears, she desperately wanted to believe that he’d conjured up the image of his father in his imagination.
Because the reality of Alistair appearing didn’t bear thinking about.
As Sam said, Liam had a vivid imagination, and it had been a dark night.
People sometimes strayed into their garden by mistake from the beach.
Sometimes the most likely explanations were the true ones. But what if he were here?
She slipped out of bed and went back to her room, tentatively pulling the curtains aside and looking out onto the street below.
Apart from a woman walking her dog, the street was empty, normal.
Some children were playing in the front garden of the house opposite, their shouts and laughter soothing her fears.
She couldn’t imagine Alistair out of his environment — he was British to the core and had always refused to visit ‘the colonies’.
Plus, he was proud. She’d banked on him enjoying what she’d left for him, and then forgetting about her, creating a new life in which she didn’t exist.
But what if she’d banked wrong?
And then there was Sam. Somehow, without her realising, she’d slipped into an emotional intimacy with him with a speed which took her breath away.
Truth was, she’d let down her guard because she’d thought she’d left her past behind.
She’d thought wrong. And if Alistair were here — and he discovered their new friendship — then Sam would be at risk too.
But it was Liam who was her chief concern.
She didn’t believe Alistair would hurt him, but he would use him if he thought it would hurt her.
She had to protect him however she could.
If that meant moving away, she’d do it. If that meant keeping him and her locked away at MacLeod’s Cottage, she’d do it.
But not if it were only shadows and phantoms, the residual smoke of fears which was haunting her.
Because she’d never be free then. She had to find out for sure whether Alistair had appeared outside the house last night.
She could hear sounds coming from the kitchen, so she quickly dressed and went downstairs. The sight that greeted her wasn’t one she’d expected. Sam’s duvet and pillow had been tidily folded and put to one side, and there was a smell of bacon and coffee in the air.
Sam looked around as soon as she closed the door.
‘Liam OK?’
‘Yes, thank goodness. He’s still sound asleep. Poor kid was exhausted.’
Sam wiped his hands on a tea-towel and leaned back against the kitchen bench. ‘And terrified of his father.’
‘Alistair… well, he never hit Liam, just…’
Sam swore under his breath and closed his eyes. ‘Don’t tell me,’ he said, his fingers gripping the kitchen counter as if his life depended on it. ‘I can’t know.’
‘I wanted you to know that Liam doesn’t bear any physical scars, only emotional ones. And I’m scared they’ll be harder to heal.’
‘Especially if he keeps thinking he sees his father through the window.’
Jen poured herself a cup of coffee. ‘Do you think he did?’
He looked outside. It was the same window Liam claimed to have seen his father through. ‘I don’t know. But it seems pretty odd to me. I mean, why would he creep up on the house? Why wouldn’t he come directly to—’
‘Me,’ finished Jen. ‘If he was around the house yesterday, he would have seen me.’
‘And me,’ said Sam.
‘Which would have put him off.’
‘It depends on what he was after.’
‘Oh, I know that. Me.’