Going over to the table, she got out her laptop, bringing up her emails, scrolling through them, her frown deepening. Then as she turned towards us, there was a look of confusion on her face. ‘I don’t understand. The emails aren’t there.’
‘Amy …’ Matt shook his head. ‘Try not to worry about it. Really. You’ve obviously forgotten the conversation we had. We definitely agreed. A beach wedding isn’t practical.’ But this time, his voice was firmer.
Then as he went upstairs, she looked at me. ‘I didn’t imagine it. I’m sure I didn’t.’ Her voice was quiet. ‘We’ll have to go shopping again – for shoes!’ Feigning brightness, masking how she was really feeling. ‘He’s probably right. The beach wedding was a nice dream, but it’s not practical.’ Behind her smile, her eyes were bleak.
The twisted dance between the narcissist and victim, both equally convincing. I didn’t want to believe that he’d set her up. But something told me that Matt was capable of anything. I wasn’t sure I’d ever forgive him, not just for breaking the magic of her fairy tale, but for lying. Lies my mother chose to ignore, because she loved him. And as she always said, if you loved, you could forgive anything.
But he didn’t know how to love her back. Once or twice I caught him texting on his phone, a look I couldn’t decipher on his face. Unable to hide his shock when he saw me watching, before glossing over it with one of his lies, about how he was helping an old friend who was having some problems. But when there was no evidence of any old friends in Matt’s life, I knew he was hiding something.
While I tried and failed to catch him out, in the background of our lives, distant thunder continued to rumble, now and then erupting into a storm, as Matt kept pushing my mother to sell our house and move to Hove or Brighton.
The memory of my mother’s voice, upset, is clear in my mind. ‘I don’t want to move. This is my house. I need the garden for my work.’
From upstairs, I heard the sound of broken china. I couldn’t tell if the plate smashed by accident or design, as he raised his voice. ‘For fuck’s sake, Amy. We’re getting married and you’re talking about “my” house.’
My mother’s desperate reply. ‘I love this house, Matt. Everything I need is here.’
‘Don’t lie, Amy. You hate this fucking house. I thought we’d agreed we were going to share everything. I want to sell it and get away from here, but you don’t care what I want. It’s all about you.’
My mother didn’t hate our house. But my hands were over my ears, unable to bear hearing him speak to her like that, so that I missed her whisper in response.
The exchange unsettled me, as I applied reverse logic to what Matt had said, about it not being her decision to make, because it certainly wasn’t his. It had happened repeatedly, Matt bullying, my mother resisting, the situation spiralling, deepening my mistrust, until slowly it all started to make a warped kind of sense. If he forced her to agree, if they bought somewhere together, it would be in their joint names. That was the moment I understood it wasn’t her he wanted. It was her money.
I waited until Matt was out before confronting my mother. ‘You can’t go on letting him speak to you like that.’
Her face was ash-white as she shook her head. ‘You only hear part of the story, Jess. He gets upset easily. I don’t mean to, but I always seem to make things worse.’ Her eyes were troubled; unable to hide how upset she felt.
‘That’s outrageous,’ I cried. ‘You don’t do anything of the sort. Love shouldn’t be like this. He should be on your side. He should want you to be happy. But instead, he’s completely vile to you.’ I broke off. ‘Don’t sell the house. Not if you don’t want to. It’s your home. It isn’t up to Matt to decide. You have a say in what happens too.’
Seeing her stricken face, I wondered if a part of her agreed with me. But when she spoke, she sounded defeated. ‘I can’t sell the house.’ A look I couldn’t read had flickered in her eyes. ‘It’s our home. It’s where I work. It’s taken years to create this garden. If we moved, I’d have to start again.’
Why do you put up with this? I wanted to shout at her. Can’t you see how wrong it is? But I couldn’t hurt her more, not after what Matt was already doing to her. Instead, I made her a silent promise.
I was under Matt’s spell – but not for long. I’m stronger than my mother. One day I’d catch him out. Then I’d do whatever it took to get her away from him.
Amy
Chapter Fourteen
Two days pass when I see no-one, days during which my mind frets about what the police are finding out, from Matt’s phone and more disturbingly, from Lara. After cancelling another appointment with Sonia, I’m on edge, watching from the sitting room window as the For Sale board goes up outside Mrs Guthrie’s gate. It’s the wrong time of year to sell a house that’s dark and cold, that still holds the echo of her presence. Even from here, the house reeks of emptiness, its windows unlit in the fading light, the curtains left open. Shivering, I think of the ambulance that came, when her cold body was found a day too late.
Soon, the house will be sold. New people will move in. More people I won’t be able
