Two hours elapsed before Nick finally came back through the door. We were trying to vaguely
approximate Christmas by then – I was stirring gravy and drinking more white wine than was strictly
advisable, all the time being sickly sweet to the children that I still had some modicum of control over to
try to redeem myself for my earlier behaviour. Was this what it was like for Rachel? I thought, tipping
another generous measure into my glass, hidden behind the door of the fridge that was so big it wouldn’t
have been out of place in a morgue.
I giggled to myself, unsure if it was funny or morbid, then emerged with a respectable inch left in the
bottom. It turned out taking the edge off wasn’t such a bad option. ‘Where were you?’ I said as Nick
st epped into the kitchen in his excessively youthful yellow puffer jacket, grim-faced. Lucky for him, my
blunted edges were preventing me from imagining any lurid crimes he’d committed, the kind that would
require silent punishment. Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
‘She’s not there,’ he said. ‘I think we’ve already established that, haven’t we?’ I said, looking at Sophie,
who had been nervously circling me all afternoon, finding jobs to do. Currently she was scoring a
mound of sprouts like it was an Olympic sport. Josh had lost interest and retreated into his own nuclear
family, who were gathered around the TV, watching ear-shatteringly loud American cartoons. At the
sound of his father’s voice, he strode back through.
‘Yeah, I got that,’ Nick said tersely. I’d sent him an update after Sophie’s confession, but I hadn’t told
him how low a blow I’d struck. It wasn’t as if I was without shame: I was aware of my own bad
behaviour, not the psychopathic monster that I’ve been made out to be by some parties. ‘So I looked
around the flat to see if I could find an address for where that silly cow’s taken her...’
‘Dad!’ said Sophie sharply. ‘Rachel’s not been abducted. She’s an adult. Why do you even have a key?
You don’t have the right—’ I held up a hand to silence her. ‘Did you find anything else?’ I asked.
Sophie was looking livid now. ‘Darling, we’re the parents of a sick child,’ I said, laying that same hand
on her arm in an attempt to calm her. ‘Of course we have a key.’
‘Just these... lying on the table.’ Nick pulled out a sheaf of papers from inside his jacket. I could see
they were credit card statements, row after row of purchases running down the pages. ‘Flat looks like a
jumble sale too, clothes all over the floor.’ ‘Hardly a news flash, Dad,’ said Josh, with a patronizing
laugh. ‘She’s always been a disaster with money.’
‘Christ, Josh, stop digging at her!’ said Sophie, flushed with anger. ‘I went through them,’ said Nick. In
the pub, I assessed – I was close enough to smell the sour undercurrent of whisky on his breath. But
then, who was I to judge? He paused a second, his usual confident ease drained out of him like an empty
juice carton. ‘This woman – who the hell is she, Lily? Look at this.’ He thrust the top page towards me.
‘Two thousand pounds to Wild Swan Health – that’s got to be this fucking retreat, hasn’t it? And she
owes two hundred quid in interest, just this month alone.’
‘Jesus,’ said Josh. ‘Where did you find her, Mum? We might need to start getting legal. It’s fraud, isn’t
it?’ Sophie looked stricken, but this time I held my tongue, avoided pointing out that everything I’d
presumed about the healing properties of this ‘retreat’ was proven true already. ‘Enough is enough,’ I
said, righteous anger restoring my clarity. ‘She’s underestimated our family, the strength of our bond.’ I
gripped hold of Sophie’s hand, then took Nick’s. ‘She’s underestimated how much we love our
daughter.
If she wants to fight us, she’s a fool. We’ll destroy her.’ Josh and Sophie had joined hands too now, the
circle complete but for one vital link. I couldn’t let another woman win. I never had before.