Chapter 5 Rabbit
Human beings are adept at distinguishing between different types of scream. They each awaken several of our senses, but only the scream of genuine fear grips your nervous system by the throat and applies sudden pressure.
At least that’s what I can gather from Aisha’s and Sophie’s frozen stances as their faces drain of colour. Each child, a moment ago lost to their own squabbles and antics, stops dead. A short silence is followed by children sobbing.
I’m pleased that no one sees the faint smile on my lips.
It’s just as quickly gone, however, as I need to contain the situation.
Although this discovery could land me in prison for several years, I’m palpitating with excitement.
I’ve always been excited by danger. I lick my lips and rush to the hall.
‘Leave it to me,’ I call over my shoulder, although I’ve no idea how I’ll silence Cait if she’s face-to-face with the man I’ve turned into a sieve. Cait is standing outside the living room door, visibly shaking. I can practically hear the thump of my pulse, and feel goosebumps tingling.
‘What’s the matter?’
Her shoulders heave up and down. I want to put my hand over her mouth to stop her whimpering, but I’ve learned to resist my first urges. They are rarely acceptable to others. I breathe deeply, count to four (there’s no time to get to ten) and approach her.
The living room door is still closed, so I conclude it’s just Owen again. I put an arm on her shoulder. It’s the acknowledged way to comfort people in distress, but Cait flinches.
‘Has he texted again?’
‘It’s not him.’ Her frightened eyes stare into mine.
I glance over my shoulder and see Aisha and Sophie at the kitchen door holding subdued children in their arms. ‘Cait needs some space. She’s got another text, that’s all,’ I lie.
I turn back to Cait, look her dead in the eye, and whisper, ‘Did you go into the living room?’
‘There’s . . . something . . . in there,’ she says, her voice rasping.
‘You’re overwrought,’ I say. ‘It’s just the horrible shock about Owen.’
‘No, no,’ she says quietly. ‘There’s blood everywhere . . .’
Cait’s hair is tangled and her top lip is lined with sweat. She looks slightly post-coital. I take her hands in mine. They feel like porcelain against my warmth. I sense she’d break into pieces with the slightest pressure.
‘Listen to me carefully, Cait. The mind plays tricks sometimes, especially when we’re scared.’
‘Please just look!’ She withdraws her hands and wrings them like a child.
I have no choice. I open the living room door and peer into the room.
‘Oh,’ I say, then shut the door quickly, my mind racing through ideas, a slot machine of turning possibilities. I know something will turn up.
‘I told you!’ says Cait. ‘What is it?’
I wait for the reels. They stop turning, one by one.
‘It looks like Purdy disembowelled our pet rabbit.’
‘A rabbit?’ says Cait.
‘Just a rabbit,’ I say. Her brow wrinkles in disbelief, but I remain firm. ‘Please don’t mention it or Nathan will be inconsolable.’
Cait’s expression changes again. She nods conspiratorially, as if she’s understood something.
‘Now let’s get you a cup of tea. Not a word or we’ll have the worst birthday ever.’
With Cait’s distress ruining the party mood, everyone finds their children and party bags, and starts packing them away.
We smile and hug, even though we’ll meet at school pickup in an hour.
Aisha supports Cait with a motherly arm, and agrees to take her home, so she can arrange to have the locks changed and call the police.
I head to the living room to tape a hastily constructed sign on the door to repel Aimée, our faeces-intolerant nanny – Cat Shit – Do Not Enter