Chapter 11 Zoe Spring 2025 #3
‘There are some policemen here who want to have a chat with you.’ The nurse looks down at her hands. ‘I’m sorry but it’s standard procedure with incidents like this, especially given your other injuries and history of incidents.’
Incidents like this. Oh my God.
‘History of incidents?’ says Paul, looking from me to the nurse and back again. I close my eyes.
The nurse plumps the pillows and helps me to sit up.
I touch the side of my neck and there’s a huge dressing.
How am I going to explain this away on the school run?
Maybe I can ask Alice to take the girls to school until it’s better.
Or Paul. In my other arm, there’s a needle attached to a huge bag of blood. Everything feels woozy and confusing.
Two policemen come and sit either side of me. Paul holds my hand. ‘I’m sorry, sir, but we need to speak to Mrs Wright alone.’
‘But she’s only just come round. I can’t leave her.’ There’s a note of panic in his voice.
‘I’ll stay with her, Mr Wright,’ says the same nurse, not meeting his eye.
He’s ushered out and the curtains are drawn back round the bed in a flurry of blue.
‘Now, Mrs Wright, can you tell me how this injury came about, and the various bruising the nurse mentioned?’
I think back to earlier this afternoon.
‘Would someone mind grabbing me the Oxo cubes from the pantry?’ I say without turning round, stirring the onion, garlic and tomatoes bubbling in the pan.
‘I will,’ says Fiona, getting up from the table, disappearing into the scullery and then handing me over the tin box. I’m throwing away the foil when Steph starts to speak.
‘You’re not using Oxo, are you?’
‘I always do, it adds a bit more flavour,’ I say.
‘Veggie lasagne needs a bit of extra oomph.’ I’ve been getting better at cooking more vegetarian options over the past few months.
Lasagne, chilli con carne, pies. Paul’s not a fan but Steph is happy, and Fiona and Sara don’t seem to mind.
The fertility doctor even said it could be healthier, although I do miss the red meat.
‘You do realise that beef Oxo has beef in it.’ Steph stands up and moves over to the other counter.
I hadn’t thought of that. My shoulders drop. ‘Does it? Well, only a trace probably.’ I try to smile.
‘It’s got meat in it, Mum. You’re putting meat into vegetarian lasagne. Have you done that before?’
I shake my head and say nothing. I can hear the pan bubbling behind me.
‘You have, haven’t you? You’ve been making me eat meat for months.’
I’m so stupid. How could I have not realised? ‘I’m sorry, darling, I just didn’t think.’
‘You just didn’t think.’ I can hear the anger and contempt in Steph’s voice.
I try to stay calm and be jolly. I turn back to the pan. My hand shakes as I try to spoon out the brown Oxo powder.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her slide a knife out of the knife block. It’s the small paring knife I use for chopping vegetables. I’ve only just washed and dried it up from preparing the lasagne. She tests the blade on her thumb and flinches. A thin line of crimson bursts on to her skin.
It makes me lose my fear of her. She’s my child again and she’s bleeding. I drop the spoon back into the pan. ‘What are you doing, Steph? You’ve cut yourself, you silly thing.’
I’m within a few feet of her when she holds the knife up to her own throat, the tip of the blade disappearing into the soft white skin of her neck.
My whole body tingles. Steph’s eyes are dark grey, almost black, opaque, impossible to read.
A drop of blood drips off her wrist, from her thumb or her neck, I can’t tell.
I take another step closer to her, so I can reach out and touch her, but my hands stay by my sides.
I don’t want to provoke her in any way. At the kitchen table, Fiona and Sara sit motionless, staring at her.
I need to get them out of here, out of harm’s way. They shouldn’t be seeing any of this.
Steph’s eyes widen, the darkness from her eyes spreading across her face. ‘Don’t come any closer.’
‘Steph, darling, don’t be daft. You’re going to hurt yourself. Please.’ I realise I’m begging but what else can I do? ‘Please don’t do this.’
Steph says nothing, just looks at me. More blood drips off her hand on to the floor.
There’s a sob from the table, Fiona or Sara, I can’t tell.
I glance at them and then there’s a searing pain in my neck and a scream from Steph.
Or is it from me? For a moment I think I’ve got a crick in it, when you move too quickly and then get a sudden shoot of pain.
But then there’s a stream of warmth down my neck and I realise she’s stabbed me.
Shit. Steph’s face has gone white. ‘Mum—’ she says, her mouth hanging open.
There’s a clatter as she drops the knife on the floor.
‘Steph.’ I take my hand away from my neck and it’s bright red. I stuff the tea towel up against it.
‘Fi, darling, take Sara and go and get Dad. Quickly. He’s in the library. Stay there. Don’t come back with him.’
Fiona runs past us, pulling Sara behind her. Both are pale, their eyes wide. Steph stands still staring at me.
‘Pony,’ says Sara, starting to cry. ‘I dropped my pony.’
‘Forget your pony,’ says Fiona, now dragging her from the room. ‘Dad!’ she starts screaming when she’s in the hall. ‘Daaaad!’
I hear the library door open. I sink on to the kitchen chair, my whole body starting to shake with cold. Steph is still looking at me, her mouth open, and then she turns and runs out of the kitchen door as Paul walks in.
‘So your husband wasn’t present when this happened?’
I try to shake my head.
‘How do you feel about your husband? Are you afraid of him?’
I try to shake my head again. ‘Of course not,’ I say. ‘Paul would never hurt me.’
‘You’re saying that you and your daughter had a bit of a tussle while you were chopping vegetables and she caught you with the knife in the process.’
I try to nod but it’s difficult with the dressing. I wonder where she’s gone. How she’s feeling. She looked as shocked as me at what happened. I wish she’d stayed. It would have been easier for us all if she’d stayed.
‘And what about the other bruising? The nurse mentioned that there was bruising around your neck consistent with being strangled, various bruises on your arms and legs, and you broke your wrist a few months ago.’
‘I’m very clumsy sometimes,’ I whisper. I close my eyes, praying they’ll go away.
There’s some whispered conversation and they bring Paul back into the room. His eyes flit between me and the police officers. I can see he’s guessed what they’ve been asking. He grips my hand again. It’s warm.
‘We wouldn’t get involved in cases like this. Rough play and so on. Children will be children, eh?’ the younger policeman pipes up, looking pleased to have the opportunity to say something.
I close my eyes and rest my head back on the pillows. Children will be children.
‘I’m not sure you understand,’ Paul says, his voice rising. ‘I don’t think this was an accident.’ His eyes have become dark, like Steph’s do when she’s angry.
No, Paul.
‘Sir?’
‘I don’t think this was an accident at all. I think my daughter stabbed my wife in the neck. The nurse said she was lucky not to have severed an artery. She could have died—’ He audibly swallows.
‘But your daughter is a child, sir,’ the older policeman says. ‘It must have been an accident. What child would do this to their mother?’
‘She’s almost half a foot taller than my wife. She’s an adult in every other way and—’ He stops. ‘I don’t know what she’s capable of.’
The policeman blinks again. ‘This is your fifteen-year-old daughter you’re talking about? Stephanie Wright?’
I close my eyes again. It’s ridiculous. It sounds ridiculous and it is. She’s a child. I’m frightened of my own child.
‘There have been other incidents now I come to think about it.’ Paul’s eyes are darting around the room. He stares at me and then looks at the police officers. ‘My wife broke her wrist a while ago. She fell down the stairs. Then she’s had bruises . . .’ He tails off.
‘We’ve spoken to Mrs Wright about that.’ The older policeman looks at Paul coldly and I can see what he is thinking. They get up, not looking at either of us.
Once they leave the room, Paul takes both my hands in his. ‘I’m right, aren’t I? Steph’s been hurting you.’
I try to shake my head again. ‘Don’t be daft,’ I mumble. ‘Of course she hasn’t. I’m just very clumsy.’ He cannot know what Steph does.
‘Milly, don’t lie to me.’
‘Where is she?’ I ask. ‘Has she come back?’
He shakes his head. ‘Alice came to look after Fiona and Sara. But Steph wasn’t there by the time we left in the ambulance.’
My girl. Out there again on her own. Or not on her own, which is perhaps worse. How can I feel such love for her but also fear her so much?