Elisabeth Carpenter - Only a Mother

He pictures his lovely wife’s body in a derelict house; pale, lifeless, like the photographs of Lucy Sharpe that were shown in court.

He opens the door and vomits on to the road, retching until there’s nothing left.

Then he wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.

‘Oh God,’ he says, though he feels as though he’s choking. ‘I don’t want it to be her, Amanda.’

Her hand is still on his back.

‘I know. Come on. Shall we?’

Luke nods.

He stands slowly, not even bothering to close the car door. His legs are numb. Amanda takes his elbow and guides him to the officer standing next to the crime scene ribbon.

‘Hi,’ she says. ‘We’re from the Chronicle . Any ID on the body?’

‘Not yet,’ says the officer.

‘How old was the victim?’ says Amanda.

‘It’s hard to say.’

‘Did you see the body?’

The man nods.

‘Hair colour?’

‘Fair.’

‘Oh fuck,’ says Luke.

He feels his knees weaken. If it weren’t for Amanda holding him up, he’d be on the ground. He holds up his phone and scrolls to the most recent photograph he has of Helen. He hands it to Amanda.

‘Was this the woman?’ she says.

The officer leans forward, taking the phone for a closer look. Luke can’t take his eyes from the man’s face.

He shakes his head.

‘No, it wasn’t her. This woman was much older.’

‘Oh, thank God,’ says Luke.

He bends over, his face in his hands.

It’s not Helen.

Tears roll into his palms, finally released. He wipes them away, trembling, before standing straight.

‘Thank you.’ Amanda takes the phone from the police officer. ‘Shit. Are you OK, Luke?’

He takes a few minutes to breathe. It’s not her; it’s not Helen.

‘So,’ says Amanda. ‘If it’s not Helen, then who the hell is it?’

‘You shouldn’t have got rid of my weed!’ I say to her. ‘What makes you think you can do that? Who the fuck do you think you are?’

This house is so dark that I can’t tell if it’s four o’clock at night or four in the morning. I can’t even see the expression on her lying bitch face.

‘I’m hungry,’ says Leanne, lying on the mattress.

‘For fuck’s sake,’ I say. ‘You ate only an hour ago.’

‘I can’t help it,’ she says.

‘Have a sleep,’ I tell her.

‘Hmm.’

Good job I let her have a smoke earlier – she’s a lot quieter than she was before.

She sits up suddenly.

‘I can’t sleep. It’s too hot.’

‘You can’t be too hot – it’s fucking February.’

‘Please.’

‘For fuck’s sake.’ I go to the window and open it a few inches. ‘Five minutes… that’s all it’s staying open for.’

I walk over to my mother and grab her feet, shaking them to wake her. How can she fucking sleep at a time like this?

‘Come on, Mother,’ I say. ‘I’ve given you time. If you tell me where it is, then you can go home.’

She’s staring at me. Her eyes look as though they’ve no fight left in them.

‘I told you,’ she says. ‘I didn’t touch your things. I’ve no idea what happened to—’

‘You’re lying,’ I say. ‘You’ve always hated me, really, haven’t you? Always so disappointed with how I turned out.’

‘I’m not,’ she says. ‘I love you.’

‘I don’t believe you. You called the police on me last time. You didn’t believe me when I said I didn’t do it.’

‘I wouldn’t do that. I gave you an alibi.’

I kneel at her feet. ‘If you just tell the truth, everything will be fine,’ I say. ‘You know how much trouble I’ll be in when they found out I’ve lost it all? They’ll kill me.’

‘I’m sure you can sort it out,’ she says.

‘“Sort it out”? What planet are you living on? They’ll find me… hurt me. This is fucking serious.’

‘I… I… ’

I crawl on to the mattress, putting my arms either side of her.

‘You, what?’

‘I didn’t know… ’

‘What have you done, Mum?’

‘I got…’ The last few words are mumbled – a jumble of words.

‘What did you say?’ I lower my face so it’s only inches from hers. I turn my head, my ear right above her mouth. ‘Say it again.’

‘I got rid of it.’ She’s sobbing, sniffing. Crying for herself. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she shrieks. ‘I’m sorry.’

She brings her hands up to her face, her shoulders shaking with her cries.

I slap her hands away.

She winces – screams – when my ring catches the corner of her eye.

She places a hand over it, dabbing her face. She screams again when she sees the blood.

‘Shut up, Mum,’ I shout, but her wails are getting louder.

I glance at the open window and place a hand over her mouth.

She’s wrestling, struggling beneath me.

‘If you promise to stay quiet,’ I whisper to her, ‘then I’ll take my hand away.’ Her eyes are wide – almost bulging out of the sockets. ‘OK?’

She nods, quickly.

Slowly, I slide my hand from her mouth.

But she screams again. Louder this time. She heard me open the window. Was she pretending to be asleep before?

I put two hands over her mouth this time.

‘Why did you do that, Mum? Why couldn’t you just behave for me? You owe me that.’

She’s struggling more than ever now. She won’t bloody stay still.

‘Mum!’ I shout. ‘Stop it! It’ll be OK if you just stop it, stop screaming. Please, Mum!’

But she won’t stop.

I press harder, but her body shakes even more, like she’s having a fit.

‘Please, Mum,’ I whisper, even though she’s probably not listening any more. ‘Please stop.’

And then, she does.

I take my hand away, and there are no more screams.

When I hear footsteps on the stairs, I can’t move.

He’s here. I suppose he might as well be.

‘Shit, man,’ he says. ‘What the hell have you done?’

‘I didn’t do it,’ I say. ‘You did.’

It was the telephone that woke me. It’s so hot in here – Craig must’ve turned the heating on. I’m lying on my bed, too warm, too nauseous, to get under the covers. The pain is taking over my back, my side, like it’s possessing my whole body. It’s never been this bad before. I remember standing at the top of the stairs as he walked up towards me. There was a look in his eyes, like he’d been smoking that wacky baccy stuff.

‘Hello, Mother,’ he said, the way he used to greet me at visiting time. ‘You don’t look so well.’

He kept walking towards me – like he’d forgotten about personal space. But I shouldn’t have been thinking that about my own son, wanting him away from me.

‘It’s my kidneys again,’ I said. ‘I’ll make an appointment with the doctor in the morning.’

He went into the bathroom and I waited on the landing while he splashed water on his face. He came out patting it dry with a towel.

‘I’ve been inside for too long,’ he said. He took hold of my hands and guided me towards my room. He sat next to me on my bed. ‘I just need to check something outside.’

He went downstairs, and I must have fallen asleep.