The Girl Beyond the Gate by Becca Day

The Girl Beyond the Gate by Becca Day

Author:Becca Day [Day, Becca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bonnier Publishing Fiction
Published: 2022-03-21T16:00:00+00:00


Chapter Twenty-Five

13 Days Before the Murder

Jodie

‘Where are we going, Mummy?’ Your voice rings in my ears. I’ve chosen not to return home after Heidi’s shambles of a dinner party. All that awaits me at home is misery, tortured thoughts, reminders of what day it is. But apparently my mind is cruel enough to bring those memories with me as I trudge towards Christian’s house. I know, of course, that you’re not walking next to me. I know that your little hand clasped in mine is a figment of my imagination, my brain’s attempt at coping. But that doesn’t stop it from feeling beautifully, unbearably real.

My stomach turns over with every step, but as much as I’ve drunk tonight, I have a sneaky suspicion that isn’t the only thing making me feel sick. Guilt tugs at my insides. I shouldn’t have said what I said to Sally. I remember all too well what it’s like to struggle, what it’s like to feel unable to cope. I loved you unconditionally, but there were times when I couldn’t even remember who I was before becoming a mum. Your world gets turned upside down, dismantled, remodelled into a life you don’t recognise, one you’ve got absolutely no idea how to navigate. It’s easy to say things you don’t mean when in the middle of a tough spell. I make a mental note to pop round Sally’s tomorrow and apologise to her.

When I arrive at Christian’s I can see him through the window, having what looks like a rather intense phone conversation. When he spots me he takes a moment to end the call, then appears at the front door with his arms crossed and his eyebrows lowered. Not exactly the reaction I hoped for, but at least he hasn’t stormed inside and slammed the door in my face.

‘Hey,’ I say, my mouth dry.

‘Hey.’

There is a long, excruciating pause. I can smell his aftershave from here, spiced and woody.

‘Can I come in?’

He runs his eyes over me as if appraising me, and I have to stop myself from telling him to forget it. After a few seconds, he steps to one side and disappears inside the house, leaving the door open. I take that as an invitation to go in. I give a quick glance back at the street before shutting the door. You’re no longer there.

I’m not sure what I was expecting his house to look like. I always envisioned doctors’ homes to look a little like hospitals, all white and sterile. Christian’s isn’t like that at all. It’s lived in, with cozy throws on the sofas and bookshelves packed with classic fiction. I can’t help but smile as I eye the novelty dog-ear slippers wedged under the coffee table.

‘Can I make you a cup of tea?’ Christian calls.

‘Yes, please.’ I hover in the hallway while he clatters around the kitchen, and allow my eyes to drift over the framed photos on the wall; a shot of him next to a camel, another of him diving in some very un-British ocean, all turquoise waters and brightly coloured coral.



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