Youre late from work again, arent you? Dan barked, not even waiting for her to tug off her rain-soaked boots at the front door. Ive figured it out.
Helen froze, hand on the cold brass handle. The house was stifling, thick with the smell of fried onions and something heavier a resentment that had seeped into the curtains, crept into the walls, even into her skin these last three weeks. She slowly let her breath out, trying to steady her trembling hands, and turned to face her husband.
Dan was standing in the kitchen doorway, arms folded, his dressing gown hanging open over a rumpled old t-shirt. The face shed known for over twenty years looked foreign now, twisted with disgust.
The trains were delayed, Helen began her well-used script, her voice muffled, small. There was a signal failure at Clapham Junction, then I couldnt get on the Jubilee Line
Stop it! He smacked his palm against the wall, sending a spray of plaster to the floor. Stop treating me like an idiot, Helen. Delays, at nine in the evening? Heading out of London?
He strode closer; she instinctively shrank into the coats on the peg, the wet wool chilling her back through her jacket.
I called your office, he enunciated each word. At quarter past six. The receptionist told me you left at five. So where were you for the last three and a half hours?
Helen felt the hard knot in her stomach solidify. Shed lied well before little harmless fibs, smoothing things over, sparing feelings. But this lie belonged to a different order, enormous and dark, demanding constant nourishment.
I stopped at the chemist. Then popped round to Mums with her medication. She dropped her gaze, fiddling with the stuck zip on her boot.
Your mum, Dan sneered. I called her half an hour ago. She hasnt seen you all week.
A painful silence settled between them. Helen straightened, realising there was no way out. She was drained. God, how exhausted she was. Every evening was another minefield. Every phone call, a jolt of fear.
Youve met someone, havent you? Dans voice turned hushed, all the more menacing for it. An office romance? That old friend you mentioned last month?
He was right up close now, smelling of cigarette smoke hed started up again, after giving up when his father had the heart attack.
Dan, honestly, theres no one else. Please, just believe me.
Believe you? He gripped her shoulders and shook her. Look at yourself! Youve lost a stone. You jump at every sound. Your phones got a new passcode. You cant even look me in the eye. Thats what women do when theyve got something to hide. But do you know whats worst?
The tears Helen had blinked away all day began to sting at her eyes.
The worst part, Dan pressed on bitterly, is youre not even trying anymore. You walk in here like its a prison sentence. You dont care about me or the house. Youre somewhere else. With him.
Its not true, she whispered. I love you, Im doing all this for us. For our family.
For the family? And youre off sleeping around? he spat.
Dont you dare! Helens voice rang out, sharper than she expected. Dont you dare say that! You dont know anything!
At that, the door to the living room creaked open. Their nineteen-year-old son, Jamie, peered out, pale and drawn, dark rings shadowing his eyes, lips chewed, gaze flitting desperately.
Mum, Dad Please dont shout, his voice faltered, high and trembling.
Dan spun to him.
Back to your room! This is between your mother and me. Unless you know where she disappears to every night?
Jamie winced, cast a terrified glance at Helen, then clicked the door shut. The lock slid into place.
Dan turned back, naked fury giving way to grim finality.
Im giving you one last chance, Helen. Right now. Tell me the truth. Who is he?
Helen closed her eyes. The vision returned, the one that haunted her every night: wet tarmac, headlights illuminating a small figure in a pink duffel, the sick thud, the wail of brakes, and then her sons scream as he burst into the house that awful night three weeks ago.
Mum, I didnt mean to! She ran right out! Mum, if you call the police, theyll lock me up, my lifes over! Dad will never forgive me, Mum, please!
She had saved him, or thought she had.
Theres no one, Dan, she said steadily, opening her eyes. Im just worn out. Theyre making redundancies at work, and I didnt want to worry you.
Dan watched her for a long moment, then pried his fingers from her shoulders with distaste.
Youre lying, he pronounced. To my face, looking in my eyes. I found the receipt in your coat pocket from the pawn shop. The gold bracelet I gave you for our anniversary.
Helens legs buckled. Shed forgotten that damned slip, panicking, rushing for that last sum
Need cash for your lover? Dan snorted. Or is he skint, and youre saving him like some hard-done-by debutante?
Its for a colleagues cancer treatment, Helen blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Were raising money
At the pawn shop? he interrupted. Helen get out.
What?
Pack your things and go. To your mothers, to a friend, wherever. I dont want to see you tonight. I need to decide whether to file for divorce or give you time to come clean.
Dan, its night she whispered.
Out! he thundered, the kitchen crockery rattling in the cupboard.
Helen knew it was over. If she stayed, hed keep pushing, and shed break. Or worse, Jamie cowering behind the wall would snap and come out, unraveling everything shed desperately fought to save.
Silent, she grabbed her handbag, her mind barely registering the weight of another envelope among the usual bits and bobs not money, but photographs shed received that day. Not bothering to remove her shoes, she stepped back out into the communal hall.
The door clattered shut, deadly final. Alone on the landing, her phone buzzed. A message. Not from Dan.
Tomorrows your last deadline. No full sum, I go to the police. Say hello to your son from me.
Sliding down the wall, Helen pressed her palm over her mouth, sobbing soundlessly in the dim light so as not to wake the neighbours.
Outside, the wind howled along the avenue, snow swirling in the streetlamps. Helen wandered, numb, down the deserted pavement. Her mothers wasnt an option Dan would call. Friends would ask questions. There was only one place left: the 24-hour café at Kings Cross, where she could hide until morning over a weak cup of tea.
She sank into a sticky corner booth, ordered tea, and pulled out her phone. Her lock screen was still a photo from last summersmiling on holiday in Cornwall, Jamie hugging his father, Dan looking at her with that old gentleness.
How fast it all falls to pieces.
She remembered that night so vividly. Jamie had borrowed Dans BMW without permission to give a girl a lift. No licence, clueless except for a bit of country lane practice at his grandparents. Dan was working late. Jamie came home an hour later, white as a sheet, shaking, headlight smashed.
He sobbed at her feet, swearing it was dark, the girl ran out behind a bus, he panicked and drove away.
Helens decision had been instant nothing but a mothers instinct remained. She knew Dans fierce sense of right and wrong. He would have phoned the police, no matter the cost. Own what youve done his mantra.
So she hid the car in a mates lock-up. Swore Jamie to silence. The next day, she tracked down the girls father through police friends, pretending they wanted to help the investigation.
He was called Nick. Ordinary man, threadbare flat, the stench of hopelessness and grief. He sat at the kitchen table, clutching his daughters photo, a bottle of whisky half-empty.
Helens nerve failed she confessed. Said it was her son, he was young, foolish, begged him to spare Jamie from prison.
Nick didnt shout or threaten. He just named a sum. Huge, impossible. “For her gravestone,” he said. “So I can leave, forget this place.” And on top of the moneyhe wanted them to suffer, living in fear, until every penny was paid.
And now Helen sat in that all-night café, her jewellery gone, coat flogged, debts everywhere, knowing it still wasnt enough.
By morning, she phoned in sick. She needed another five thousand pounds before evening.
The day was a feverish scramble: pay-day lenders, pawning her laptop, borrowing from a school friend under the lie of an emergency operation.
By five, shed scraped it together. A thick envelope with a hodge-podge of notes.
She called Dan straight to voicemail. Texted Jamie, Itll be alright. Hang in there. Dad wont find out. No reply.
She took the envelope to Nicks flatcrumbling housing estate on the edge of town, paint peeling, stairwell reeking of damp.
Hed left the door ajar. Inside, absolute chaos; suitcases half-zipped, bottles on the counter. Nick looked worse than ever, red-eyed, stubble grown wild, hands shaking.
Got it? he croaked.
Yes, Helen put the envelope on the table. Its all there. As agreed. You withdraw your statement; you disappear.
Nick hefted the envelope, sneering.
Think money can fill a hole in the heart?
I dont think anything, she said softly. I just want to save my son. You promised.
Promised, he tossed the envelope back. Well, Ive changed my mind.
Helens heart stopped.
What do you mean?
Not enough, he advanced, foul-smelling breath hot. I saw your husband yesterday. New car. Looks loaded. And you bring me this bits and bobs from the pawnbrokers.
You dont understand, he doesnt know! The cars all we have thats worth anything. We live pay-cheque to pay-cheque!
Let him know, then! Nick bellowed. Let him learn what sort your son is! My girls in the ground and yours is tucked up at home, living the life!
Please Helen pleaded. Ill get more. Ill sell the car. Please, just give me time!
No more time! Either you ring him right now and say hes bringing me an extra fifteen grand, or I call the police!
Footsteps sounded in the hall. The door, which Helen had left swinging behind her, banged open.
Dan stood there, pale as a ghost, mobile gripped in hand family tracker glowing on the screen.
I knew it, he murmured, staring at his wife, who stood rigid as Nicks drunken grip closed round her. Tracker on the family account, Helen. You forgot to switch it off.
He looked from Nick to the envelope on the table.
So, Dan hissed, voice shaking with rage How much for a night with my wife?
Helen snatched free.
Dan, its not
Dont! he roared. I saw you go in here. To this dump. This is your type? I thought it was your manager, someone respectable, but
Nick cackled, loud, merciless.
Lover? he choked out. You think shes seeing me?
Shut up! Helen lunged, clamping his mouth. Dan, please go, Ill explain at home!
Dan shoved her aside.
No. I want to listen. Since Im here,
Nick wiped his lips, looking at Dan with twisted sympathy.
Are you really that blind, mate? Your missus isnt with me. Shes buying your peace and quiet.
What? Dan scowled.
Shes buying off your nightmares, Nick picked up a funeral card photo edged in black, thrusting it in Dans face. Recognise her?
Dan stared. His eyes widened.
Thats That girl. From the news. Accident in Riverside. Hit and run, no witnesses.
Bang on, Nick grinned. Now ask your saintly wife who was driving. And whose car it was.
The silence was suffocating. Dan turned to Helen, horror freezing his face, dwarfing any suspicion of infidelity.
Helen? My car was locked up for weeks. You said the battery was flat
Helen collapsed, legs useless.
Forgive me she sobbed. It was Jamie. He took your keys It was an accident, Dan, hes our boy!
Dan didnt scream. He didnt even move. He just gazed at her a woman, grovelling at a strangers feet; a man, gloating over their shared calamity.
Dans face turned ashen. As a doctor, hed seen death countless times but now it had come home, putting on his sons face.
Jamie? he said, terribly calm. My son killed a child?
Not killed! Helen wailed. It was an accident! A crash!
He ran, Nick said, cold. He left her to die. The ambulance came fifteen minutes later. Had he stopped, called for help she might have lived.
Dan swayed, bracing himself on the door.
And you knew? He looked at Helen with absolute contempt. Three weeks you knew?
I was protecting him! she howled. Im his mum! Theyd have locked him up! Hed never survive prison! I just wanted it to go away
To pay it off? Dan sneered at the envelope. A childs life for five grand? Or whatevers here?
Its all I wanted, Nick admitted. I just wanted you to suffer but now I want your son in jail.
Dan stepped to the table, weighed the envelope in his hands, then threw it in Nicks face. Notes scattered across the grimy linoleum.
Keep your blood money, he said quietly. My conscience isnt for sale.
He spun to Helen, hauling her from the floor by the elbow.
Get up. Were going home.
Dan, please she whimpered. Lets work this out, hes just a boy
Shut it. Not a word until were home. Or God knows what Ill do.
Under Nicks hate-filled gaze, they left.
The drive home was silent, tense, dangerous. Dan drove furiously erratic, aggressive, breaking every rule hed once scoffed at. Helen cowered in her seat, hands clenched, glimpsing the whiteness of his grip on the wheel.
They entered the house. Jamie sat in the kitchen, a cold mug of tea in front of him. As Dans face came into view, Jamie leapt up, chair clattering to the floor.
Dad? Mum? Is everything alright?
Dan stepped up to him. Jamie, towering over his father, seemed so small.
Get your coat, Dan said.
Where are we
Jamie darted a glance at Helen, who slunk into the hall, weeping.
The police, Dan answered.
Jamies legs gave way. He slumped to the stool.
Dad, no! I cant! Mum said youd
Mum did? Dan laughed bitterly. She bought you a ticket to hell, son. Youve eaten, slept, played games these last three weeks, knowing you killed a girl?
I havent slept! Jamie screamed, tears flowing freely. I see her every night! Dad, Im terrified!
Terrified? Dan seized his sons shirt, hauling him up. Wasnt that little girl terrified, dying alone on the street? What about her dad, living in a tomb?
Dan, dont! Helen tried to step in.
Hes not a child! Dan roared, shoving her back. Hes a grown man who did a monstrous thing and hid behind his mothers skirt! And you you betrayed me, Helen. Not with another man, but by making me out to be a fool. You thought I couldnt handle the truth. You thought our familys honour was worth five grand.
I was scared youd turn him in! she shouted back.
I would have, Dan replied. And Id have stood by him. Wed have hired a solicitor, fought for a reduced sentence, paid compensation properly, through the courts. Wed have looked people in the eye. Now? Now were cowards and criminals.
Jamie slid to the kitchen floor, weeping.
Dan knelt beside him.
Jamie, look at me.
Jamie looked up, face blotchy and tear-stained. In his eyes, for the first time in weeks, Helen saw not terror, but a broken trace of resolve.
If we dont go now, Dan said, quietly, youll never live with yourself. The fear will eat you alive. Do you want to jump at every siren? Hide forever from that man?
Jamie shook his head.
I cant, Dad. Not anymore.
Then lets go. Ill be with you. I wont leave you. But you have to answer for whats happened.
Jamie pushed himself up and wiped his face with his sleeve.
Lets do it.
Dan nodded. He turned to Helen.
Youre staying here.
I want to come! she snatched her coat.
No, Dan stopped her. Youve done enough. You tried to buy his soul. Let me try to save it.
Dan, will you ever forgive me? she asked in a broken whisper, already knowing the answer would gut her.
He looked at her for a long while, as if trying to memorise the lines of the face hed loved all his life.
An affair I could have forgiven, Helen. Were all weak sometimes. But this you watched me lose my mind with jealousy for weeks. You saw me suffer, and you just cared about covering your own guilt.
He opened the door for Jamie.
I dont know how Im supposed to live with this. I dont know if Ill ever sleep beside you again, knowing what youre capable of.
The door slammed.
Helen was alone in the silent house. The pawn shop receipt, lost from Dans pocket, glinted on the hall floor.
She stepped to the window. Under the orange streetlight, two figures one broad-shouldered, one thin and stooped walked wordlessly towards the car. They didnt touch, but walked together.
Helen leaned her forehead against the cold glass. The truth had come out. And it was worse than anything Dan could have imagined. It hadnt merely destroyed their past it had erased their future. Yet down there, father and son were going to reclaim at least the right to an honest present.
She slid down the wall and, for the first time in three weeks, truly mourned not from fear, but from the grief of irrevocable loss. The courts would be cruel, the sentence real. But the harshest judgment had already been pronounced tonight, within these walls. And appealing it was impossible.
If Ive learned anything from this hell, its that trust and honesty are the only true currency in a family. Once spent, you can never buy it back. And love, battered by lies, cannot always heal whats been broken.
