Page 82 of The Silent Bride
Everything has escalated so quickly. I think that maybe I should have listened to Francesca yesterday when she warned me about Laurence. After all, she’s been in a relationship with him for years – maybe she’s seen this side of him before. But it’s just so hard to equate this version of Laurence with the one I’ve known forever. The funny, kind, sweet guy who’s been my best friend since we were kids. He’s like a changed person. Could he really have been hiding a darker aspect to his personality all this time? Even as it seems preposterous, the thought terrifies me.
‘What the hell have you been saying to Alice?’ he growls, taking a step away from me and towards her.
‘Only the truth,’ she replies, her eyes filling with anguish. ‘I don’t know what’s happened to you, Laurence. I think you need to get help.’
He shakes his head. ‘Look, Fran, I know you’re upset, and I don’t blame you, but spouting these lies isn’t helping anyone.’
‘It’s helping Alice,’ she says, throwing me a look of solidarity over his shoulder. ‘It’s why I came. I was scared for you, Alice.’
I swallow.
‘What are you talking about, Fran?’ he snaps. ‘I know things ended on a bad note between us, but I really don’t think that youcoming here and insinuating things about me is going to help anyone, least of all you.’
‘I don’t need to insinuate anything,’ she replies. ‘I just saw you manhandling her with my own eyes. Alice looked terrified. She still does.’
They’re both staring at me now and I guess I probably do look terrified. My mouth is open and I realise I’m in shock, still unable to believe that Laurence is this person who only seconds earlier had me in a vice-like grip. Surely he just got carried away in the heat of the moment. I rub the bruises on my arm, feeling slightly nauseous.
Laurence’s expression darkens further. ‘Look, Francesca, I’m going to need you to leave or I’m going to have to call the police. This is the second time you’ve let yourself in here. It has to stop or we’ll be forced to get a restraining order.’
‘You’re the one who needs a restraining order,’ she spits. ‘God, you’ve really got her fooled, haven’t you?’ She shakes her head, her face drawn, her eyes still darting between us.
‘Fran,’ I croak. ‘Maybe it’s best if you do go. This arguing isn’t helping anyone.’
‘I would,’ she says, ‘but I don’t want to leave you alone with him. I’m worried what he might do. If I leave, I’ll call the police anyway to report what I saw here tonight.’
‘Jesus, you can’t go round saying all this stuff, threatening to tell the police a bunch of lies,’ Laurence cries. ‘Aside from wrecking my relationship with Alice, you could ruin my reputation. My livelihood. If my clients lose their trust in me, then I may as well kiss goodbye to my career. Not to mention the fact you went through my laptop and could have seen their confidential files.’
‘The only thing I saw was your search history,’ she says. ‘And that was enough.’
My head is spinning with all this back and forth. The betrayals, the lies, the manipulation. It’s all too much. They’re still throwingaccusations at each other, and I don’t know what’s the truth and what’s simply bitterness over a bad break-up. I need to get out of here, clear my head. I make a move to slip around Laurence but I’m shocked when he turns to bar my way.
‘Don’t leave!’ he insists. ‘Don’t listen to her. Just stay and we’ll talk it through.’ He glances over his shoulder. ‘Fran, do us all a favour and go! You need to get on with your life and leave us alone to get on with ours. Just get out!’
‘You were the one who calledme,’ she retorts. ‘And I’m not going until I’m happy that Alice is safe.’ She casts a panicked look my way and beckons me to come over to where she’s standing.
I try once again to get past Laurence, but he’s not budging. I’m literally pushing at his chest now, and actually considering climbing over the breakfast bar to get away. This is ridiculous. I’m not exactly scared by his refusal to let me pass, but it’s certainly not making me want to stay. Fran pulls at his arm, but he shrugs her off and then slams both fists down simultaneously in anger – one on the counter, one on the breakfast bar.
Now I’m scared.
I glance down and notice his hand is resting on top of the large, sharp kitchen knife that I used earlier to chop the salad, its blade sticky with tomato juice. I can’t believe we were having a normal, civilised meal only minutes ago.
I catch Fran’s eye and she too sees where his hand is. She gives a sharp inhale that matches my own.
‘Hang on a minute,’ Laurence says, as though he’s just realised something important. He frowns and turns to look at Francesca, the knife now gripped firmly in his hand, pointed in her direction. ‘You ...’ he says.
‘Put the knife down!’ I manage to cry, terrified at what he might be about to do. But before he has a chance to use the weapon, Francesca lunges for my gold pineapple lamp on the side table, liftsit, and hurls it with all her strength at Laurence’s forehead. He raises his hands too late as it hits him with full force on the temple, yanking the plug from the wall.
I stagger back with a scream as he sways and then crumples, tipping on to his side and smashing into the edge of the counter before slumping to the floor in a bloody heap. At the same time, the lamp falls on to the kitchen tiles with a terrible metallic clang before the room falls briefly silent.
I can’t even process what’s just happened. It doesn’t feel real. It’s too dreadful. Too monstrous. I’m frozen in shock. Silent as the grave, while Francesca starts heaving and panting, her breaths far too loud.
Francesca and I both raise our eyes for a second to look at one another. Her face is a mask of horror and I imagine my expression mirrors hers.
‘Oh my God,’ I whisper, the words running into each other.
‘He was going to kill me,’ she cries, her breath still coming in ragged gasps. ‘You saw him come at me with the knife, right?’
I nod, and then crouch gingerly over Laurence to see that the knife is still in his loosely curled fist. There’s a dent in the side of his head and a cascade of bright blood soaking into his blond hair.
