It was a cruel disease and she could understand why Amit had become obsessed with finding a cure, just as other parents of children with rare genetic conditions had. Michaela and Augusto Odone had produced Lorenzo’s oil. She’d seen the film of the same name. Years of research and then a breakthrough. Perhaps Amit might find a cure, but there was no excuse for treating her as he did. He was so unpredictable and violent.
She knew he had a right to blame her for the compromises he’d had to make now she’d fallen ill too. Once she died he would be free to marry a healthy woman who could give him normal children, for she doubted he would find a cure in time to save her. She thought he doubted it too. Hence all that nonsense about freezing her until a cure had been found. What a macabre thought! She’d been shocked that he’d even considered it. It made her skin creep. She couldn’t imagine anything worse – replacing her blood with preserving fluid and then suspended upside down in a cylinder when she should be at peace in the earth. It was the stuff of nightmares. Yet many had signed up to it and had paid huge amounts to be stored. Thankfully Amit had finally taken no for an answer and had put away the literature and stopped talking about it.
But his behaviour was even worse now. Sometimes injecting her to sedate her or locking her in. But why? Why was she in here and for how long? It was the third time he’d shut her in the cloakroom. She wished she had someone to confide in. Estranged from her parents, she knew they wouldn’t sympathize. Not after everything that had happened between them and Amit. She could hear her mother’s admonishing voice: you’ve made your bed, so you’ll have to lie in it.
It had crossed her mind that maybe Emily next door would be a good confidante. She wondered if she might even suspect that Amit didn’t always treat her right. She seemed perceptive and, being at home with her child during the day, had perhaps seen things the other neighbours hadn’t. And the way Emily kept inviting her into her house, and when she’d finally accepted, she’d asked if Amit looked after her and treated her well. A pity she hadn’t had the courage to admit that Amit treated her badly and she was petrified of him, for she doubted Emily would invite her again, not after staying such a short time and leaving so abruptly. Her behaviour had been rude, but she couldn’t tell Emily the real reason she had only stayed fifteen minutes. Pity. It would have been reassuring, comforting, to have her knowing, even looking out for her.
‘What do you make of this?’ Emily asked Ben, as they settled in front of the television to watch the evening news. She clicked on the video clip, passed her phone to him and waited while he watched it.
Ben laughed. ‘Goodness knows. But I hope he didn’t see you take it. It won’t help neighbourly relations.’ He handed back her phone.
‘He was too busy with what he was doing to see me,’ Emily said. ‘I heard the lorry at the front while I was changing Robbie. He was all excited when I showed him. When the driver took that thing off the lorry and wheeled it down their sideway, I couldn’t resist going into our bedroom for a better view. Why would you want that in your shed?’
‘No idea. It looks like a water cylinder. Perhaps he likes a bath down there,’ Ben joked.
‘It’s the right size and shape to hold a body.’ Emily shuddered.
‘Perhaps he’s going to do you in,’ Ben teased.
‘Or his wife,’ Emily said. ‘Seriously though. Don’t you think it’s odd?’
‘I guess. But each to his own.’
They fell silent as the main news came on. They always tried to watch the news in the evening once Robbie was in bed. There was the usual depressingly familiar update on war-torn Syria, rape allegations against another prominent figure, doom and gloom about the world economy and the persistently high levels of city pollution. After the UK and international news, the channel went through to regional news where a female reporter was standing beside a taped-off area in Coleshaw Woods.
‘A shocking and grisly discovery was made here early this morning by a man walking his dog,’ the report began. ‘A grave containing more than fifty animals including cats and dogs was unearthed when the man’s dog began digging. The owner called the police and they and the RSPCA – Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals – have taken away the carcasses for examination. One line of enquiry is that this could be part of a gruesome satanic ritual as all the animal bodies appear to have been drained of their blood.’
‘Oh no!’ Emily cried, shocked and disgusted, her hand flying to her mouth.
‘There are some nutters around,’ Ben said.
The man whose dog had dug up the animals was now interviewed. ‘It’s left me completely shocked,’ he said. ‘I took a different route through the woods this morning, a part that not many use in winter and suddenly Rex began digging frantically in that spot.’ He pointed to the area behind them. ‘He dug up a few mice first and I thought they might have died naturally, but then he dug up part of a rabbit, a cat and a dog and I realized it was a graveyard.’ He said again that the incident had left him badly shaken; he was an animal lover and would hate the thought of his pet ending up like this. The reporter said that other possible reasons for the animals being there were that they had come from a laboratory or a veterinary practice that had dumped the animals rather than pay for the correct disposal, which was illegal.
Emily felt sick. ‘You don’t think Tibs could be among them?’
‘I doubt it,’ Ben said. ‘Coleshaw Woods is over half an hour’s drive from here. It’ll be as the reporter said – a lab or vet avoiding the costs of disposing of them properly. Gruesome all the same.’
The camera went to another local news item and Emily took her iPad from the coffee table. As Ben continued watching the news, she began searching online to see if there were any more details about the animals found in Coleshaw Woods. There was nothing beyond what the news report had said. A shame there wasn’t a telephone number for those worried about their pets to phone, she thought, similar to the helpline number given out for relatives after a major disaster. She closed the tablet and sat with it on her lap, half watching the news. Ben was probably right, but it didn’t stop her worrying. Bad enough that Tibs hadn’t returned and they’d had to accept she was probably dead, but far worse if she’d met her end sacrificed as part of a sadistic cult ritual.
She went cold. Who knew what Tibs might have suffered in her final hours. The news item had said the animals had been drained of blood. How? Why? Had they been alive? She tried to push these thoughts from her mind, but they returned. Again and again. There were some really evil people out there.
That night, Emily dreamt she heard Tibs meowing, crying out for them, as she was held down and gruesomely slaughtered. She woke in a cold sweat. Coleshaw Woods was half an hour’s drive away as Ben had said, trying to reassure her, but that wasn’t far, not really.
The following morning as soon as Emily was up and Ben had left for work, she checked online to see if any more details had been added to the news story. The local Gazette had covered the story, but it was now old news so it had been pushed off the first page. There were no further details.
She’d arranged to meet a friend, Hannah, for lunch. She lived locally, had a similar-aged child and had also seen the news item. It wasn’t long before they were discussing it and Emily confided she feared Tibs might be among the dead animals.
‘I think it’s unlikely,’ Hannah said. ‘I mean, how would Tibs have got all the way over there?’
‘Unless someone grabbed her close to home – from our street?’
‘I think they’ve come from a lab, probably been bred there or bought for experimenting