Chapter 10 Zoe Spring 2025 #3
On the gallery, Mum stares down at me disapprovingly.
Alice is in the kitchen crashing around with dishes, Paul sounds like he’s on the phone.
Not that I’d tell him about the condoms – that will just be between Steph and I – but he should know about the hash.
I take the plates and cups downstairs and leave them on the hall table.
I can’t face talking to Alice so I go up the back staircase to tidy the playroom.
It’s hardly changed since I was a girl, though Mum called it a nursery then.
The doll’s cot that Josie and I played with still sits in the middle of the rug, a tangle of dolls under an old tea towel.
I haven’t thought of her for a long time.
Would things be easier now if she’d lived?
She would be someone to share things with, moan about our parents to?
The wall is covered with Sara’s drawings, with a favourite few of Fiona and Steph’s on the cupboards.
I touch Steph’s drawing of Highdown drawn ten years ago.
Three pencil figures standing outside, one with an exaggerated pregnant belly. They were happy days.
Next door, the sewing machine gathers dust, the pile of offcuts still waiting for me to make the patchwork quilt I talked about when Fiona was born.
The smaller rooms are barely touched these days, it seems such a waste.
We really should do something with them.
I wander downstairs back on to the gallery just as the front door slams. Steph.
She looks washed out as she drags herself up the stairs, her bag falling off her shoulder. ‘You’re early,’ I say. ‘What happened? Are you okay?’
‘I didn’t feel great so they let me go home.’
‘You should have called. I would have picked you up.’
She shrugs and pushes past me.
‘How did you get home?’ I ask, but she’s already inside her bedroom, the door shutting.
She could have taken the bus, I suppose. But she hates the bus.
Her bedroom door opens again, and she stands in the doorway. ‘What’s happened to my room?’ she says, her voice quiet, face blank. I smile and walk towards her. Maybe this can be the start of repairing things.
She flinches as I put my hand on her arm but doesn’t move it away.
‘I tidied it up for you. I remember you saying that it was overwhelming when it was so messy, so I did it for you.’ I walk past her into the bedroom and open the chest of drawers.
‘Look, I’ve reorganised all your clothes so it’ll be easier for you to find everything.
Bras and pants are in the top drawer, socks next to them.
’ I smile over my shoulder at her but she just stands there looking around the room.
‘I liked it as it was,’ she says. ‘I liked it as it was. You had no right.’ Her voice gets louder.
My heart starts thudding and I close the drawer. ‘But you liked it when I did it last time. You said it helped.’ I try a smile, but her eyes have darkened to a deep grey, almost black. I step back.
‘I liked it like it was,’ she screams. She pushes the pile of paper off the desk and it confettis to the rug.
She pulls the quilt off the bed and stamps on it.
Then she advances towards me, and pulls a drawer from the chest of drawers, throwing all the carefully folded t-shirts on the floor.
She throws the empty drawer across the room and there’s a sound of splintering wood.
I swallow and try to edge past her. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought it would help.’
‘You thought it would help to touch all my stuff?’ she shouts, her spit flicking on to my face. Her mouth is contorted. Suddenly her hands are around my throat and she pushes me up against the wall. ‘I hate you. You’re ruining my life. I’d be much better off without you.’
I’m choking and try to pull at her hands.
But she’s stronger and taller than me, and my wrist still isn’t properly healed.
Black stars dance in front of my eyes. I can’t breathe.
I try to remember what Mum said when I learned to swim.
That you can be for a while without air so long as you don’t panic.
But her hands are tight around my throat, it feels like something’s going to snap.
Can your throat snap? I grip her hands, not wanting to hurt her but desperate now to breathe.
She lets go as suddenly as she grabbed me and slams the heel of her hand into my throat. The impact pushes me backwards towards the door and I fall out on to the gallery, staggering, retching.
Back in my bedroom I kneel in front of my bed, burying my head in the duvet.
She could have killed me. A few more seconds and I would have been in a crumpled heap, dead on her floor.
I can’t swallow and my throat feels like it’s on fire.
In the bathroom mirror my neck is bright red.
I trace the scratch on one side, probably made by me trying to get her hands away.
She tried to strangle me. I sit fully clothed on the loo, my head in my hands, tears pricking my eyes.
‘Milly?’ Paul is on the gallery coming towards the bedroom. I push the bathroom door shut and slide the lock across.
‘I’ll be down in a minute.’ I don’t recognise my voice – it’s hoarse, raspy, as if I’ve smoked ten packets of cigarettes.
‘You okay?’ He’s right outside the bathroom door. ‘I heard shouting.’
‘Yes, fine,’ I say with as much enthusiasm as I can.
He’s fiddling about with something in the bedroom and then I hear him on the gallery again. He’s talking to someone. Steph, maybe?
I get up and go back into the bedroom. If I tell him what just happened, he’ll go mad. In the top drawer of the chest of drawers is a collection of Mum’s old silk scarves. I wrap one around my neck, finishing with a knot. It covers the worst of it.
I can’t hear what they’re saying. Steph’s door is open and they’re standing inside. I glance in on the way past – the t-shirts are still on the floor.
‘You need to tidy this room up, pumpkin,’ Paul says, using the childhood name Steph hates. But she doesn’t react.
I glance in Fiona’s room and everything is lined up meticulously. ‘That scarf’s pretty,’ Paul says, catching me up, and putting his arm around my waist. We walk down the stairs together. ‘You should have seen Steph’s room, what a mess.’
I force my face into a smile.
In the hall he turns to face me. ‘You okay?’ he asks, his hands either side of my face. It reminds me of Steph holding my neck earlier and I shudder but try to turn it into a nod.
‘You look like you’ve been crying.’
I shake my head and try to smile again. I don’t trust myself to speak.
‘Okay then,’ he says, but I can see the concern in his eyes. ‘I’ve got a bit more paperwork to get through then I thought I’d go over to the Cornfords’ to talk about the new boundaries. Fancy coming with me? It’s a beautiful day.’
He’s right. Outside the sky is a brilliant blue. I nod. He kisses me on the forehead, like my father used to do, and disappears into the library. I can hear Steph crashing around upstairs so I walk out of the front door and head towards the woods.