on us and the baby. We need to think of names. It can’t come out and be called baby It.’
Will began to chuckle.
‘I’m easy, as long as you don’t want to call it Horatio or Ermentrude – whatever you like, I’m sure that I will.’
‘Don’t you like Horatio? I thought it had a nice ring to it. Horatio Ashworth.’
She began to giggle and Will smiled. It was his favourite sound in the world. The turn off for Newby Bridge came into sight; they were almost home. Twenty minutes of some of the most beautiful, lush, green scenery and then they would reach the small lane which led to Apple Tree Cottage. Annie loved her home. She had dreamt about living in a house like it since she was a small child and knew that she was very fortunate that her dream had come true.
‘I can’t wait to show your dad and Lily the photographs. She’ll definitely want to go when she sees how perfect it was.’
‘I bet she’s already made him book the flights.’
‘I bet she has. Your dad marrying Lily was better than any fountain of youth. She keeps him young, a bit like me and you. I’m much younger than you. I hope I have the same effect.’
She winked at Will who began to laugh.
‘I wish I could say you were, Annie, but somehow you seem to be having the opposite effect on me. Have you seen the grey hairs that have come through, and the worry lines across my forehead? You, my little cupcake, are the complete opposite. But I wouldn’t have you any other way.’
It was dusky when Jo opened her eyes. The light had faded fast and she was surprised she’d slept that long, not to mention shocked because she hadn’t made Heath’s tea. Crap, he would go mad with her all over again. He’d made the sandwiches at dinner time; if he had to cook his own tea she’d know about it. Her head felt a little better but her eye was sore. Throwing back the covers and sitting up she waited a moment, listening to see if she could hear where he was, but there was no noise. The house was completely silent – it was strange; he must still be working. She looked at the clock and almost had a full-blown panic attack. It was quarter to nine; she’d been asleep since two o’clock. She was never going to sleep tonight – that was if he let her off with staying in bed so long in the first place. Jumping up, she ran to the bathroom then downstairs, relief that the house was in darkness flooding through her. Thank God for small mercies. Whatever he was working on was keeping him busy and for that she was eternally grateful.
She began to pull some pots and pans from the rack and thought about earlier when they’d all been moving on their own. Don’t be stupid, he knocked you out cold – it was just a figment of your imagination, concussion. She carried on chopping onions, garlic, chilli and peppers; she would make his favourite chilli and rice for tea – that would hopefully keep him in a good mood. Before long, the mince was frying and she tossed in everything else whilst waiting for the pan of water to boil. At least it would be almost ready by the time he came back in, so he wouldn’t be mad because he was hungry. Her own stomach started groaning. She hadn’t eaten much apart from nibbling on the sandwich earlier and for once he hadn’t even moaned about her leaving most of that.
Whilst the tea was cooking she went into the living room and switched the television on to his favourite programme. She didn’t understand why but she still loved him, even though he hurt her, and she wanted him to be happy – because when he was happy he didn’t get as violent. Therefore, as much as possible, she would do things to make him smile. He was so much fun when he was happy; they used to have such good times when they first met. It was just a shame that the anger seemed to be a much bigger part of him now than the love and laughter he rarely showed.
As she turned to walk out of the room the television, which she had just turned on, switched off. She turned around and stared at the black screen which seconds ago had had Sky News plastered across it. Thinking that she hadn’t pressed the on button right in, she walked back and pressed it again – the newsreader filled the screen. This time she got as far as the hallway when she heard the click of the power button being pressed in to turn the screen off; whipping her head around, the screen was black once more. Jo frowned, wondering if the television was broken – that was all she needed. Apart from taking photographs, the television was his life and he would be in a foul mood if it wasn’t working. No doubt he would blame her and then her life wouldn’t be worth living.
She strode back in, this time using the control to turn the damn thing on. It came on but this time it was on a completely different channel. It was on one of the documentary channels and there was what looked like a dead body laid out on a steel mortuary table. Jo shivered; she hated these sorts of programmes. A small voice whispered in her head… I’ll tell you why you hate them. It’s because one day you’re going to end up on one if you don’t get away from him. She shook her head, blocking the whispering out that was echoing inside her brain. She pressed the remote to put the news back on but it wouldn’t turn over; it was stuck. She shook it then slammed it against the palm of her hand, but nothing. She took the batteries out and reinserted them… still it wouldn’t move off the damn autopsy programme. Angry now, she bent down and switched the socket off, so finally the television turned off. Cursing it, she was walking out of the room towards the kitchen to check on the chilli when a loud noise filled the entire house. It was so loud she put her hands across her ears. It was coming from the living room. Her heart raced; she didn’t want to go back in there but if he came in and saw that she’d broken the television she would pay for it. Making herself go back into the living room, she stepped into the doorway and shivered – it now felt like the inside of an ice box in there, when moments ago it had been warm. She stared at the black and white fuzzy screen which was emitting white noise so loud she couldn’t hear herself think. Goose bumps broke out all over her arms; as she forced herself to walk toward the television, she heard a voice call her name. It wasn’t his voice. This was a woman’s voice and it was coming from inside the television. Her feet did not want to move any nearer to it, but she didn’t have much choice; if he heard the racket he would come storming in and go mental with her. Running the last few steps she yanked the plug from the socket and the room was silent once more. Her hands shaking, she heard the door from the workshop which led into the kitchen slam shut.
‘Jo…’
She was afraid to tell him what had just happened because he would think she was lying, and if he thought she was lying it didn’t bear thinking about what he’d do. Instead she pushed the last five minutes to the back of her mind and ran to the kitchen where she greeted him with a huge smile.
‘Are you hungry? Tea is almost ready. Sorry I fell asleep for so long.’
He hadn’t answered straight away. ‘Have I got time for a quick shower?’
‘Yes, I think so. No, you have, you definitely have. I’ll just turn the rice down.’
He’d walked past her and gone upstairs for a shower and she’d breathed out a sigh of relief that he wasn’t angry with her for a change. When he came back down they’d eaten in silence and when he’d told her he was tired and going to bed she’d followed him upstairs, afraid to be alone downstairs even though she wasn’t tired and didn’t want to be with him. She had no choice, because she didn’t know what was going on and she was terrified of her own house.
Jo didn’t sleep all night. She tossed and turned – afraid that if she did doze off the woman from the mirror or the voice from the television would haunt her dreams. Finally, when it was light enough and she couldn’t stand listening to him any longer, she crept from
