Surely Holly is going to burst in any minute now. Will she be shouting something like,‘Kate! Can we please wrap Dad’s dead body in the tarpaulin already!’
‘Ah. Here we are!’ I turn, brandishing a Tupperware container full of screwdrivers.
Teri beams at me. ‘Kate, you are incredible. Thank you so much.’ At the door, she says, ‘I look forward to meeting your husband too. What’s his name again?’
Bile churns in my stomach. ‘Max.’
‘Max.’ She nods to herself. ‘Nice name.’ Then she slaps the doorjamb. Twice.
10
I find Holly crouched in a corner of the garage, her eyes unfocused. If she hasn’t been traumatised by her father’s treatment of her, she certainly is now.
I glance around the garage. ‘We can’t leave him here like this. It’s too risky.’
‘But you’re going to get rid of his body, aren’t you?’
I blink at her. ‘Weare going to get rid of his body, yes.’
She drops her face in her hands and starts to cry.
Crouching beside her, I say, ‘Hurry, come on. We don’t have time. Let’s haul him into the freezer.’ She recoils. I probably shouldn’t have saidhaul. ‘We’ll put him in the freezer,’ I say more gently.
The large chest freezer came with the house. It’s old and slightly damaged on the edges. Because I’m a terrible cook, and Max isn’t remotely interested in cooking, we’ve never used it. It’s not even plugged in.
‘Come on, Holly. Get up.’
‘I can’t.’
‘You have to.’
It takes a bit of coaxing, but finally she gets up. I slip my gloves back on, make sure Max’s body is securely wrapped up inthe tarpaulin, and we sit him up against the freezer. Then, with much effort and many tears on Holly’s part, we manage to lift him and push him inside.
‘Okay,’ I say, my legs like butter. I close the lid and plug it in. Holly slides to the ground with exhaustion, her back to the freezer. I sit next to her, take my gloves off and Holly does the same.
It feels like a dream. I can’t believe any of it is real.
‘What did you mean before, when you said that you remembered something?’ I ask.
She rests her elbows on her knees and presses the heel of her hands against her forehead. ‘The night my mum died. There was a song on the radio.’
‘Summer After You,’ I say.
She nods. ‘That’s the song that was playing. I remember it.’ She looks up at me, her eyebrows knotted together. ‘I didn’t do anything, Kate. They were arguing.’
‘I thought she was asleep,’ I say.
‘She wasn’t. He lied. They were fighting.’
‘Do you remember what they were fighting about?’
‘She was leaving. She was telling him that she couldn’t bear it anymore. She hated him. She was leaving and taking me. She didn’t want to have anything to do with him. And he was screaming at her, saying that he would kill us all before he’d let that happen. Then suddenly we went off the road, and she was screaming at him to stop the car…’ Her gaze goes unfocused again. She shudders. ‘I don’t remember anything else after that.’
‘He swerved into a tree,’ I say.
She nods. ‘But it wasn’t my fault, Kate, I swear.’
‘Oh, Holly. It was never your fault.’
