Chapter 29
THE GRAVEDIGGER
Showered now, he tosses his phone onto the bed and pulls out an outfit for the day, catching a glimpse of his phone wallpaper, with the little girl smiling at the camera.
A long time ago, the gravedigger understood that he needed to fit in. He needed a cover for his darker side. That’s where the family-man act comes in.
He dresses, thinking about his failure. He let that bitch get away.
When he pictures her face – that red hair, those large blue eyes – his jaw tightens, and he imagines wrapping his fingers around her neck.
She got away this time, but he will finish this soon.
He will end this battle that has been raging between them for over thirty years.
He knew from the first moment he saw his new stepmother that he hated her. Even at five years old he knew that.
But he never expected to be burying her on the moors. That part took him by surprise.
She started things sweetly enough. She wanted him to like her because she wanted to make a good impression on his father. Just like any decent gold digger would.
And so the coddling began. But he hadn’t stood for it.
He remembers how she stared at him. He always hated her large blue eyes, so full of fake pity.
“Why are you with my daddy?” he asked.
She smiled sweetly at him but he knew it was all fake.
“Because I love him very much,” she said.
“He doesn’t love you, he loves my mummy.”
Her smile faded then. “Now that me and your daddy are getting married, he thought it might be nice for you and me to spend the day together. How about that?” Her voice was all shaky, like she was scared. “What would you like to do? We could go to the zoo? Or to the park? Or the—”
“I want Mummy!” he screamed.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but that’s—”
Didn’t she understand? He didn’t want her.
He’d hit her as hard as he could, over and over again, pummelling every part of her body that he could reach.
Her legs, her hip, her knees. She’d lowered her arms to try and protect herself.
Then she grabbed his wrists. He’d pulled and pulled, trying to get out of her grip.
He remembers the steel in her eyes. It was the first time he’d seen a backbone.
“That’s enough!” she yelled. “Stop!”
“You’re hurting me!” he screamed.
She let him go.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Was I too rough? Did I hurt you?”
The gravedigger smiles to himself, remembering what came next.
It was the beginning of the games between them.
He’d turned around and run from the room.
First to the hallway, then to the kitchen.
This was his house. Not hers. His and his father’s house.
He grabbed the front door handle, swinging it open to make his escape.
She tried to stop him but he spat in her face.
She wiped it away with her sleeve, making a disgusted sound. He ran straight out of the house.
It’d been cold outside despite the bright sunshine. He sprinted, as fast as a five-year-old could. He kept going and going and going, determined to not fall over.
He’d heard her panicked screech behind him. “Stop! Come back!”
He’d enjoyed the fear in her voice and the power he had over her.
He’d run straight towards the road at the end of their front garden. He saw the car approaching. He slowed, just slightly, but still kept going until he heard the high-pitched sound of car brakes screaming to a halt.
The car had stopped in the nick of time and a woman got out. He’d run straight to the stranger and folded his arms around her as though he was afraid of his stepmother.
“My goodness! Are you all right?” the woman had asked, her eyes crinkling in the sun.
“I’m scared,” he’d said, holding on to her tightly.
His stepmother had reached out to take him but he’d cringed away from her.
“She’s not my mummy!”
The woman holding him said, “I think he’s in shock.”
As the gravedigger dresses, he imagines himself back then, facing his crying stepmother, making sure the nice lady couldn’t see his face. He opened his mouth and smiled, showing her his teeth.
“I’m going to find you,” he says under his breath. “And I’m going to kill you.”