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Every year in England and Wales there are over a million calls to the police to report domestic violence – which means there are another four million attacks going unreported. And even if Stacey were to go to the police, she’d probably change her mind later and refuse to press charges. Most abused women do. Even the rich and famous ones.
The last time my father hit my mother, he nearly killed her. If I hadn’t taken care of things when I did, the next time he would have done.
My phone suddenly vibrates in my hand with a text.
‘I have to go,’ I say. ‘Major incident on the M25. All hands on deck. I already have a blunt chest trauma en route to the hospital.’
‘What about Peter?’ Tom exclaims. ‘I’ve got a meeting in Covent Garden at nine. You said you’d be home till noon today.’
I knock back my scalding coffee, burning my tongue. ‘You’ll have to take him with you. We can’t leave him on his own.’
‘I can’t take a ten-year-old to a client meeting!’
‘Why don’t I stay here and keep an eye on him?’ Stacey suggests.
‘We couldn’t ask you to do that,’ Tom says.
‘Why not? I don’t have anywhere to be for the next couple of hours.’ She touches her swelling eye. ‘I can’t go out in public looking like this. And it’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me.’
Archie is safely far away in Devon, and I don’t imagine Peter will try anything with an adult. And yet some instinct is warning me:danger! danger!Predators can always scent blood in the water. Stacey is vulnerable. And Peter’s not a normal ten-year-old.
‘Well, if you’re sure,’ Tom says, before I can object. ‘I won’t be long. The lazy sod will probably still be asleep when I get back. If he wakes up, you can just plug him into a screen.’
My phone vibrates with another text. I need to get to the hospital. Lives are in the balance.
And so I tell myself Stacey will be fine.
chapter 34
tom
I don’t know what the hell is going on with Felix and Stacey Porter, but I’m fed up with their domestic drama washing up on my doorstep. My wife certainly knows which sideshe’son, but right now I’m not sure if Stacey’s victim or villain.
It’s hard to argue with a black eye – except Felix was sporting one himself last time we met. It makes me wonder if the Porters are one of those couples who get off on violent sex. Maybe all this is consensual. In which case Stacey Porter is deliberately misleading my wife, and I need to know why.
I’m not worried about leaving Peter with the woman either way. My son can more than take care of himself.
As soon as I’ve wrapped up my meeting in Covent Garden, I text Felix. To my surprise, he agrees to see me within the hour, which only makes me more bloody worried.
At his suggestion, we meet at the park in Fulham halfway between our houses. He’s already there by the time I arrive, standing by the gate waiting for me. It’s a miserable fucking day, gloomy and overcast: the kind of dreary August weather I remember from my childhood, before climate change was a twinkle in anyone’s eye. Felix is wrapped up in a thick jacket, his shoulders hunched against the damp chill coming off the river. It makes him look like the brooding hero of a Brontë novel.
We fall into step and walk along the Embankment in silence for a few minutes. The tide is out, and there’s a dank, rotten smell in the air. Felix’s hands are thrust deep into the pockets of his jacket. I wish I’d thought to wear something warmer myself.
‘It’s not what it looks like,’ Felix says finally.
‘And what’s that?’
‘I didn’t hit my wife.’
‘That’s not what she’s toldmywife.’
Felix stops and turns towards the river, gazing down at a tugboat churning slowly upriver through the brown water. ‘I don’t expect you to believe me.’
‘I don’t know what to believe,’ I tell Felix frankly. ‘Stacey turned up at my house this morning with a black eye. Why would she tell my wife you’re hitting her if you’re not?’
A muscle works at the side of his jaw, but he says nothing.
‘You need to tell me what’s really going on,’ I urge. ‘Millie’s on the warpath, and trust me, mate, once she gets her teeth into something, she doesn’t let go. If your wife’s playing some kind of sick game with her, I need to know.’
