The Unmaking of Ellie Rook Episode 52

Mum stands in the middle of the kitchen and blinks. I suppose she never expected to be back here in the house so soon. Or ever. That wasn’t part of the plan. Her attention wanders to the shards of crockery on the floor.

She stoops to pick up a rose-patterned sliver.

“Grandma Rook’s china?” She widens her eyes at me. “Did he do this?”

I shake my head. “That was me.”

She turns the fragment over in her hand, as if she’s hunting for clues.

In a bid to take control of a very weird situation, I go into full hospitality mode, clapping my hands together briskly.

“Right. Let’s get you sorted. It’ll be a bit of a squeeze and you’ll have to be very quiet, but—”

“What? What the hell are we doing here?”

She drops the fragment of china into the pedal bin and wipes her hand on a tea towel, as if it has somehow contaminated her.

“You said I’d be safe. This doesn’t feel like safe to me.”

I catch her hand in mine. “Believe me, this is the safest place.

Doubt

“I’m keeping you never goes in there. would never look.”

Her eyes flicker with doubt, and I plunge on. “And we’ve done it!

“We’ve Trojan-horsed his ass while he’s running around the country looking for... you.”

The you strikes a wrong note. She drops my hand and turns to confront me. “He knows? He knows I’m still alive?” Damn. I scrape my fingers through my hair. “It wasn’t our fault!

“He spotted the crow feathers in Shelby’s hat and put two and two together, and then he found your scarf, the one you were wearing when you... fell. That confirmed it.”

“Shelby’s hat? Does that mean he knows ... me and Shelby?”

I nod.

She’s staring at me like I’ve suddenly in my bedroom. He It’s the one place he sprouted snakes where my hair should be. I lift my hands, but she bats me away when I try to touch her again.

Her eyes have gone all faraway.

“So that’s why we couldn’t find my scarf when we were gathering up my stuff.”

We’d shoved her tent and the few things she had with her into the boot too, and covered them with an old bit of carpet.

I hadn’t paid too much attention to the missing scarf. Maybe I should have. “He was a bit angry.”

I bite my lip in the sort of coy gesture I might have used as a teenager, but it isn’t going to get me out of trouble this time.

Mum raises an eyebrow at my understatement. “They’ve gone to search the woods.”

“Who?”

“Dad and Offshore and River. River will keep them off the scent.”

“In the dark?”

I don’t repeat Dad’s words, but she knows his MO by now. “Oh Christ.”

She sinks down on to a chair. “I need to find out about Shel. You should have seen what they did—”

Banished

Her voice cracks, but I don’t go near her again. I’m not sure I know how to cope with this.

I’ve always wondered what I’d do if I came across the scene of a traffic accident – would I panic or step up to the plate?

It looks like I’m about to find out how far I can go.

I’ve avoided my parents’ bedroom since she left.

Overnight, it had become grey and severe, with the curtains half drawn and all evidence of Mum banished behind the wardrobe doors.

Now I’m forced to commit a daring raid on enemy territory in order to collect fresh clothes.

Behind the bathroom door, the shower is going at full pelt, and the landing is filling up with the scent of jasmine and cloves.

I sent Mum in there with an armful of the fancy products she’s always been scared to use, but perhaps that was a mistake.

I wonder if I’ll be able to get rid of the telltale scent before my father gets home.

In my parents’ room, the double bed is neatly made, pillows plumped, a strip of blue-striped pyjama visible between pillow and duvet.

Broken heart

It looks oddly vulnerable.

I wonder if he misses her, whether all his bluster and spite is just a cover for a broken heart.

Stop right there.

That’s the very thought pattern that kept her here, wasting the best years of her life with a man who didn’t know how to love her.

All the excuses she made for him – he’s tired, he’s working too hard, he had a difficult childhood – all covering up the truth.

My father is a cold, cruel man who will never change.

I rummage through cupboards and drawers, grabbing underwear, tops, a fresh pair of jeans, a hairbrush; hastily rearranging the remaining clothes so Dad won’t get suspicious.

Leaflets

All the excuses she made for him – he’s tired, he’s working too hard, he had a difficult childhood – all covering up the truth

We’re good at that – rearranging things so we don’t cause a wrinkle in his day.

Just as I’m about to close the last drawer, I discover a couple of leaflets, carefully hidden under an old bathing suit. (When was the last time my mother went swimming?)

I pull them out with difficulty, my arms full of clothes, and shove the drawer closed with my knee.

I’d been on a night out in Hanoi when I got that tearful phone call from my mother, the one that made me face up to what was really going on here.

I couldn’t get any sense out of her at first, and I was a bit drunk, which didn’t help, but eventually it sank in.

I can’t do this any more. I need help.

More tomorrow.

Copyright Sandra Ireland 2019, extracted from The Unmaking of Ellie Rook, published by Polygon, an imprint of Birlinn Ltd, at £8.99.