Helen Phifer - The Face Behind the Mask

‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t be daft. I love you.’

Alfie was still fast asleep so she opened the front door of the house then went back to help Will out of the car. He was slightly better than when Jake had put him in. Wrapping her arm around his waist she helped him inside, leading him to the huge corner sofa in the lounge. He stumbled towards it, but she kept hold of him.

‘We need to get you undressed, Will. You’ll ruin your tunic if you fall asleep in it.’

He winked at her. ‘Any excuse to see me naked – admit it, you can’t resist me.’

He fumbled with his tunic buttons, but failed. Annie deftly undid them and tugged it off. She pulled his tie over his head and unbuttoned his shirt. He fell onto the sofa and lay down. She ran outside to bring Alfie in, locking the car and then the front door behind her. He was still asleep. She was so lucky he hadn’t woken when she transferred him from the car.

She went back to Will who was now snoring loudly. She untied his laces and pulled his shoes off, followed by his trousers. His muscular, tanned legs looked good in just a pair of white Calvins. Even though it was a warm day outside, it was much cooler inside the house. It always was so she ran upstairs to get a duvet from the spare room, which she threw over him. Alfie opened his eyes and began crying. She picked him up and rocked him.

‘Shhh, don’t wake Daddy. Come on, it’s me and you. Let’s get some tea.’

She carried him into the kitchen and put him into his high chair. After feeding Alfie and making herself a sandwich and mug of coffee, she turned the television on and saw the news headline flash across the screen: ‘Body found in house on Roose Road, Barrow-in-Furness’.

The camera panned to the front of a freshly painted white house and Annie felt her blood run cold as it zoomed in on the bright blue front door with the white plant pots either side that were filled with lilac and purple pansies. The mug of coffee slipped from her fingers. It smashed into pieces all over the breakfast bar sending hot liquid and pottery everywhere.

She paused the television and looked at the mess she’d made, relieved it had landed on the worktop and nowhere near her baby. That house, she’d had a bad dream about it last night. She had been tossing and turning in her sleep then woken up in a cold sweat feeling sick and breathless. Alfie had begun to cry, which in turn had made her forget all about it until now.

Surely this was just a coincidence; there must be hundreds of white houses with blue doors. But how many have the identical plant pots and flowers from your dream either side of the door? Mopping up the mess she’d made she wondered what it all meant. The inside of the house had looked lovely through the window, very shabby chic, and everything inside was white with touches of colour. It reminded her a little of this house – her home – and she shuddered.

She left the television paused, not able to watch what the gory details were. She didn’t want to know, and if she didn’t, then it should have nothing to do with her, should it? It was a huge coincidence, nothing else. Annie set about checking all the doors and windows were secure. She was going to put Alfie to bed then have a long, hot soak in the bath. An early night with the bed all to herself would do her good, as long as Alfie slept for a few hours, that was. He hadn’t been settling well of a night lately and she didn’t know if he was teething or just going through a phase. She picked him up and carried him upstairs where she laid him in his cot while she ran a bath for herself.

***

Will opened one eye and turned his head to look where he was because he couldn’t remember. The movement made him groan. His head was pounding and moving it made him feel sick again. For a minute he panicked. The last time he’d woken up in this state he’d almost lost Annie. He’d woken up next to Laura – one of his colleagues – after a drunken fumble. Annie had found them together.

He reached out beside him, glad there was no one next to him. The dirty grey light that was coming through the blinds was just enough for his eyes to adjust to his surroundings. He was at home, on the sofa, thank God. He remembered Stu’s funeral. He’d felt so bloody guilty about it all. He’d gone back to the wake where he and Debs had sunk shots of whisky at the bar, both of them comparing their guilt: Debs because Stu had caught her having an affair and Will because he’d come home that night to find a drunken, angry Stu straddling his very pregnant wife.

He wondered if Annie was mad at him and how the hell she’d managed to get him here, because he didn’t remember any of it except for the whisky at the bar. Christ, he must have been hammered. He lifted his arm out of the duvet to see his shirt was gone. His mouth felt like a sewer. He needed water.

Forcing himself to slowly sit up, he felt his stomach lurch. He was never drinking again. He stood up and stumbled into the coffee table, banging his shin. The glass of water Annie had left there for him tipped over and he cursed as the cold liquid ran down his legs and feet. Holding his head, he managed to make it into the kitchen where he got a bottle of water from the fridge and also found three paracetomol.

The television was still on and he wondered why Annie had paused it, then gone to bed. Picking up the remote he pressed play and watched the news clip, his heart sinking. Bollocks, another murder. It had been a while since there had been one in Barrow and he’d kind of liked the break. The last murders had been in Hawkshead.

He wondered where his phone was and if anyone from work had called him. He’d put a day’s holiday in for yesterday, so technically they should have left him alone and called whoever the duty DS was. The kitchen clock told him it was four a.m. Thank God he still had time to go to bed for a few hours before he had to get up for work. Today was going to be a ball-ache if he was still feeling like this, not to mention he wouldn’t be able to drive himself in to work. At times like this he missed Stu the most. He would have just phoned him to come and pick him up. Fuck, what a mess.

As he got upstairs he tried his best not to crash into the walls or doors and disturb either his wife or their baby. He went into the bathroom where he splashed cold water all over his face and brushed his teeth, then he sprayed some aftershave on so he didn’t stink of eau du whisky. Alfie began to cry and Will went into his bedroom to pick him up. A bleary-eyed Annie met him on the landing.

‘Sorry, I don’t know how I got into such a state.’ He pulled her towards him and hugged her. ‘Are you really mad at me?’

Rubbing her eyes she laughed. ‘No, I’m not, although if you’d have puked inside the car and not outside of it this episode would have a different ending.’

Will groaned. ‘I’m such a disgrace.’

She nodded in agreement. ‘Yes, you are, but you smell much better now and I’m lonely in that big bed on my own so I forgive you.’

He kissed her and Alfie let out a scream.

‘I swear that kid knows when I want you to myself for a bit.’

They both walked into his bedroom where the night light had gone out. Annie walked over to his cot and picked him up. Alfie immediately stopped crying as he snuggled closer to her. Will led the way back to their bedroom where he got into bed and sighed. Annie sat down in the big, squashy armchair that doubled up as her reading and nursing chair. She began to feed Alfie. Grabbing a blanket off the radiator she wrapped it around them to keep them warm.

***

Will was asleep again as soon as his head hit the pillow and she envied him a little. When she’d insisted on breastfeeding, she hadn’t really thought about the night feeds. Still, Will was the one working and she was at home, so it didn’t really matter. And Alfie was having fewer feeds now that he was on solid food. As Alfie suckled, she closed her eyes and began to drift off. It wasn’t long before she was dreaming.