There are no fish in the pond, not since Freddie died. The birds got some of them, that’s what Daddy said, and he kept saying he’d put a net up to stop them, but he didn’t, and they disappeared one by one, or just lay there floating on the surface with one eye pointing up at the sky so that you could tell they were dead, not just sleeping. One day I was talking about all the dead fish – I hadn’t been out to look at them for a few days then, I think it was cold and wet and I was sad about them all dying – and Daddy smiled at me and said go and have a look. I went and looked and there was a net over the pond, which was really good because it would stop the birds getting the fish, but was really bad because it meant I couldn’t dip my fingers in and flick the water into the sunlight and see if it made rainbows, and when it got really hot I couldn’t take off my shoes and socks and sit by the pond with my feet in it, looking at my legs stretched out and going slightly the wrong way because the water did that, it made things look different from the way they really were, it made a different reality from the one I lived in. I ran back inside and gave Daddy a big hug and he smiled again and raised his glass, which was full of something dark, maybe wine, and said the fish would be safe now, and then he drank all the wine. Later that day he fell asleep on the sofa, on his side, and even though both his eyes were closed I remember thinking he looked like a dead fish floating on the water.
He was wrong about the fish, though. They weren’t safe. Something else got them – Daddy thought it was probably a cat, because of that dead bird I found that time which he said had the mark of a cat on it. Freddie The Fish was the last to die.
Today there were no fish, just me and the soldiers, but Daddy was cross. Daddy has been away, too, for a week, a little while ago, but then he came back, and he was quieter than usual, at first. Mummy said he’d had to go away for work and hadn’t liked it at all. After he stopped being quiet he went back to being cross most of the time, and he was cross again now, and I knew it was me he was cross with, and I knew why. I knew I wasn’t supposed to put the soldiers in harm’s way, and I didn’t know what harm was or where its way was, but I was sure that lining them up by the pond was a bad thing to do and I’d hoped he wouldn’t see me. I didn’t want to put the soldiers in the pond, I was just going to play with them by the side, and I tried to tell him that, but all he did was shout at me, and then a minute later Mummy was at her bedroom window telling him to shut up and telling me to shut up, and she looked even crosser than Daddy did.
I started crying and Mummy said I shouldn’t cry, she should be the one crying, because look what I’d done to her, look how I’d screwed everything up, and I stopped crying and said sorry, even though I still didn’t know what I was saying sorry for, but saying sorry didn’t make things better. Instead she stopped shouting and stared at me, the same long stare she’d given me this morning.
She shook her head and said “What did I do to deserve this?”, and I was about to say I didn’t understand when Daddy spoke.
“Made for better, were you?” he said.
I didn’t know what that meant, “made for better.” I turned to look back up at the bedroom window, and Mummy’s lip was curled like she was about to say something mean, so I put my fingers in my ears. Some of the words got through anyway. Short, angry words I don’t know the meaning of. Mummy stopped shouting and I took my fingers out of my ears in time to hear Daddy saying “Why don’t you fuck off back to that fat cunt if it’s so terrible here?”
He stopped after he’d said that and crossed his arms and glared at her, and I thought maybe that was the end of it, because Mummy was smiling now.
“It still gets to you, doesn’t it?” she said. Daddy was silent. “He might be fat, but he’s more of a man than you’ll ever be,” she continued, and Daddy took a step back, his mouth open like he was going to shout something back, but had forgotten how to. When I looked up again, Mummy had disappeared from the window.
I smiled at Daddy.
“What the fuck are you smiling at?” he asked, but I never got the chance to answer him, because he started shouting, more of those short, angry words, and he was shouting them all at me.
I ran inside. I thought he might follow me, but he didn’t. Instead he just stayed where he was, shouting after me. I went up to my bedroom.
After a while the shouting stopped. I pushed the curtains aside and opened the window, just a little, and peeked through into the garden, and there he was, the evening sun throwing his thin shadow onto the pond. I could only see his back, and it was shaking, like he was laughing. I must have made a noise, because suddenly he turned and looked up at me, and I could see he wasn’t laughing at all.
I ducked, hoping he hadn’t seen me. I ran to my bed and curled up and the covers and cried, and that’s where I am now, curled under the covers, crying, and trying not to think of Daddy, by the pond, crying too.
8: 21:00-21:25
I HIT WILLIAMS at a near jog ten minutes later, ten minutes in which I’d come to realise that even loose denim skirts and low-heeled boots weren’t the ideal wear for distance or speed. I slowed as my destination came into view – not that view was the right word for a tiny patch of land between two quiet streets, an alleyway cutting diagonally between them, and not a streetlight to be seen. There was a nail bar one side of the alley and a discount electronics store the other, but both were closed. I stopped five metres away, just three minutes late, and waited for my heart to slow and get a little quieter.
Nothing. There was no one there, no sign of life, no noise at all. I walked slowly to the corner and peered down the alley, but the only thing there was a single bin, overfilled with something I couldn’t see but which smelled like curry. I backed out and turned to face High Grove, but there was nothing there either. I glanced at my watch – five past, now – and started as a car swept by from behind me, its lights picking out nooks and corners I hadn’t noticed in the dark.
I pulled out my phone and checked the message. Right place, right time, give or take a couple of minutes. I was known for being punctual – my delay with Billy earlier that day had been an aberration – so if the message had come from someone familiar with my habits, it was possible they’d noted my lack of response and not stayed beyond the appointed hour.
Possible, but a stretch. More likely they were running late themselves. I took a step back, until my shoulders came up against the glass front of the nail bar, and thought it through again. I’d decided to carry on playing Belinda, and Belinda would have shown up for sure, but I wasn’t feeling much like Belinda now. I was out of character. Out of place. I looked at my watch, my phone, my watch again, the minutes ticking by and no sign of any new message. I’d wait until quarter past, I decided, and then I’d phone the number.
At ten past another car came by, again from behind me, but I’d noticed this one coming, and followed its progress from the shadows, searching every square inch it illuminated with the eye of a predator even though I was starting to feel more like prey. There was a camera I hadn’t noticed before, high on the wall above the electronics shop and angled sharply down, but even with the best technology could offer, it wouldn’t be able to pick out much in this light. Another car approached, from in front, this time, and I turned and took a step back. A minute later my phone gave a beep and I swiped through to the message in less than a second, but it was just Lena replying to tell me Simon had fallen asleep, hadn’t drunk his milk, which was unusual, seemed fine apart from that. I tapped out a quick thanks and was toying with the idea of giving up rather than waiting another few minutes when a shrill blast hit the street.