If They Knew: The latest crime thriller book you must read in 2018. Joanne Sefton

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СКАЧАТЬ held him again, whilst Darren and Helen brought the travel cot in from the car and wrestled it up next to their bed in the spare room. His chest still rose and fell dramatically with every breath, but Helen noticed it wasn’t as marked as it had been in those first days. Already her little boy was growing, getting stronger.

      ‘Are you okay?’ It was Barbara, passing by with an armful of carrier bags. Helen wondered if her mother would notice the tears threatening to seep from her eyes.

      ‘Deathly tired, that’s all.’ She smiled. ‘It’s been a tough couple of weeks.’

      She expected her mother to frown, but Barbara just nodded. ‘There’s nothing harder than coping with a newborn, Helen. You need to be kind to yourself. You and Darren, too.’

      ‘Yeah.’

      ‘I mean it. Don’t struggle more than you have to. We can help, and Adam and Christine, of course.’

      ‘We’re doing fine.’

      ‘I’m sure you are, Helen.’

      Neil opened a red wine he’d been saving and they toasted Barney first, and then, jokingly, the queen. Before long, the glasses were drained. Helen sank into bed, knowing that sleep would take her the moment she shut her eyes and that the next thing she knew would be Barney’s mewling hunger dragging her from it.

       Barbara

      Barbara listened for the change in her daughter’s breathing as Helen finally succumbed to her exhaustion. For a few moments, she stood by the spare room door, matching her own shuddering breath to Helen’s, trying to be slow, trying to be calm. When she was sure that her daughter was asleep, she crept into the bathroom.

      The master bedroom had an en suite – Neil had plumbed it in himself ten years earlier and together they’d sponged the walls blue and lavender. The bathroom cabinet was cluttered with stuff that was never used – toiletry gifts that hadn’t quite hit the mark and little travel bags that Neil had saved from the occasional business-class flights taken before he retired. Right at the back was a cheap polyester make-up bag. Like everything else, it had gathered a fine film of dust. It wasn’t often that she felt the need to get this kit out. She was pleased to note that when she checked over the contents they were immaculate.

      Next, she swabbed the toilet lid with a disinfectant wipe, before setting out the cotton wool, the steri-strips, the antiseptic and the pack of blades. Her hands shook as she ripped the cardboard from the packet.

      She allowed herself a pause, more breathing and counting to steady herself, but she knew Neil would be back before too long. Of course, he couldn’t be expected to understand how difficult she found it to have a baby under her roof. He didn’t even know the memories that it brought back. This would help her, just as it had helped when Helen herself was tiny. Neil would hate it but manage to accept it nonetheless, because Neil’s best quality was his ability to accept.

      The feeling of the blade on her thigh was delicious for an instant, and even after that first golden moment, when the loathing began to pour back in, the sense of satisfaction remained. Now she was steady, now she was in control once more. The blood ran into the shower tray, her anxiety seeping away with it.

      She cleaned up quickly, feeling the silvering of old scars under her fingertips as she pressed and wiped the wound.

      Later, in bed, Neil’s fingers found the neat row of steri-strips.

      ‘Oh, love,’ he sighed.

      ‘I’m okay. I won’t need to do it again.’

      He’d always had a vampire’s sense for her blood, and a haemophobe’s aversion to it. He drew his hand away abruptly and nestled it in her hair, stroking and soothing – although she was the one who had to do the reassuring. She’d known she would struggle with the baby in the house. These days, she didn’t cut often, and she was disappointed in herself that it had come to this, but she’d done what she needed to do. Neil thought the world was about gardens and beauty and patience rewarded. Barbara liked that about him, but in her heart she believed it came down to much less than that – just people doing what they needed to do.

      A few hours later they made love, when they’d both been asleep and could pretend more or less to be sleeping still. It was the first time in many weeks, and, in the morning, when the memory of their silent and familiar coupling came back to Barbara, it made her smile. She recalled bittersweet moments from their past, and the fact that Neil was perhaps not so much of a haemophobe as he liked to have her believe.

       Helen

      The next morning, Darren took Barney to meet his other grandparents. They would all be going over for dinner, but Helen’s day had been going since four a.m., not counting the two a.m. feed. His suggestion that she try to grab a nap had been welcome, but sleep didn’t come easily – partly because Barney wasn’t nearby. And it wasn’t helping that dawn had been hours ago. Again, she felt the endless daylight was stalking her.

      Eventually, Barbara stuck her head around the door. ‘Shall I bring you up a cuppa?’

      ‘No. Hopefully I’ll get to sleep. Thanks, anyway.’

      Ten minutes later she was still lying there. It was bright outside and the closed curtains cast a jaundiced glow about the room without achieving any semblance of darkness. She heard the kettle go on, and the steps on the staircase shortly after.

      Barbara edged round the door with a mug in each hand, peering at Helen to check if her eyes were open before speaking.

      ‘I thought I’d make two, just in case you were still awake.’

      ‘Thanks.’ Helen gave up and pushed herself up against the headboard. She was slightly unnerved by her mother’s thoughtfulness. Barbara was efficient, witty and even generous, but in Helen’s experience, her admirable qualities didn’t usually extend to anything resembling tenderness. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve got any headache pills?’

      Barbara quickly fetched a pack from her own bedroom, and a glass of water.

      ‘Are you coping, Helen? I hope you’d tell me.’

      Helen went to shake her head but stopped because it hurt.

      ‘It’s okay – tiring. Everyone struggles a bit, though – it’s normal.’

      ‘Of course it’s normal,’ Barbara said, even though Helen had not meant it as a question. ‘God knows I’ve never been one for newborns—’

      ‘Haven’t you?’ asked Helen. She couldn’t remember seeing her mother fuss over a baby, but then she couldn’t remember there being many babies around. And Barbara wasn’t a fusser over anything.

      ‘Better when they grow up a bit … By mid-thirties it’s much easier!’

      Barbara’s laughter sounded forced, as though she felt this should be an intimate moment and was working desperately to make it happen. Helen laughed along, but a little cautiously.

      ‘You know, Helen, I’ll admit I found it difficult to feel close to you when you were younger. Your dad found it much easier, and then you two were so natural together … Anyway, I want you to know I’m not judging you.’ Now Barbara gave a sharp laugh. СКАЧАТЬ