Look Behind You by Sibel Hodge Page A

knows how much I dislike it. He’s just said the first thing that popped into his head because he always has marmalade for breakfast.
    And that’s when I first suspect he’s lying to me.

13
     
    ‘Are you coming to bed?’ Liam’s voice echoes down the stairs.
    I’m standing in the kitchen with the lights off, staring out into the dark garden. Right at the end, behind our own wooden fence and mature trees, is a three and a half metre chicken wire fence that separates it from the Council tennis court behind. Our neighbours’ houses either side also have thick trees and bushes along their boundaries. The path that runs along the side of our house to the front driveway has a high wooden gate with a lock and a couple of bolts. So it would be hard for some unknown assailant to get into the garden. Hard, but not impossible.
    Is he out there, the man who took me? Is he watching me now? I half expect his face to loom up in front of the window like in a horror film.
    ‘Did you hear me?’ Liam shouts.
    ‘I’ll be up in a minute,’ I call out.
    ‘Don’t wait too long.’ His footsteps creak on the hallway as he enters our bedroom above the kitchen.
    I open the fridge, grab the half-empty bottle of white wine and swallow it in big gulps. Then I put it back. Close the door, climb up the stairs, and get into bed. Liam reaches for me under the covers, pulling me into his arms so my head rests on his shoulder. If he feels me stiffen, he doesn’t show it.
    ‘I can’t take any time off work at the moment to look after you. I’m swamped with all the stuff going on for this new drug.’
    ‘I’m fine. Really. I’m fine. I’m not suicidal. You don’t have to worry.’
    ‘If anything happens, I want you to ring me. Or ring Dr Traynor or Dr Drew. OK? If you feel like hurting yourself, ring someone.’
    ‘I’m won’t hurt myself.’
    He kisses my forehead. ‘Good girl.’ He turns over onto his side, facing away from me. Within minutes, his breath is deep and slow, snoring softly.
    I lie there, staring into the darkness, one thought chasing another. Round and round I go, my head in tortuous turmoil. I’m not going to hurt myself. The thought couldn’t be further from the truth. But I wonder just who is going to hurt me.
    The letter makes it all easy. Makes it look like I’ve lost my mind. That I thought the only way out was to kill myself.
    Did I really write it? It’s my handwriting, even though it’s messy. It could’ve been forged, I suppose, and it sounds like a suicide letter.
    I go over what it said in my head: Liam, I can’t go on like this anymore. I need to end it all. I’m sorry. Chloe.
    But what if it wasn’t me writing my last words? What if I meant I wanted to end our relationship instead? What if I was leaving him? And if I was, why? Why now? What had finally given me the courage to get away from him?
     
    ~~~~
     
    I pretend to be asleep when Liam gets up the next morning. I close my eyelids tight, slowing my breathing as the weight on the bed shifts. He pads to the en suite and takes his morning shower.
    I need to think. Do something. Make phone calls. Search the house for clues of my disappearance. Because even though Dr Drew’s been sympathetic and is the only one who seems to be on my side, he still concurs with Dr Traynor and Liam that I’ve taken sleeping tablets voluntarily and had another reaction to them. He still believes I’ve made up this whole thing and that there isn’t a madman out there somewhere who could still be after me.
    The police probably think I’m a raving lunatic, too, after what they’ve heard from Liam and reading the letter I wrote. So, the only one who really believes me is me, and until I know the truth, my life is in danger.
    Sometime later, Liam reappears in the bedroom. ‘Chloe?’ He nudges my shoulder. ‘I’ve made you some tea.’
    I open my eyes, stretch, sit up. I even give him a yawn for good measure. ‘Thank you.’
    He puts the mug on the bedside