The Chaos Read Online Free PDF Page B

way, isn’t there? I don’t have to leave. I could go in there now, sit down next to her and tell her. She’d have to do something then, wouldn’t she? Ring the police? Throw Him out? Or gather all our things up and take us somewhere, me and the boys?
    Or would she tell me to shut up? Send me to my room for telling such wicked lies? Or shrug her shoulders, say that’s just the way things are, the way He is?
    At the back of my mind, I know that she already knows. How can she not know? But she doesn’t know about the baby. Nobody does. And that’s why I’m getting out. This baby’s mine. He’s never going to see it. He’s never going to get His hands on it. It’s mine, growing inside me. I’m going to keep it safe.
    I’m not sure how far gone I am. My periods had been up the creek for ages, so I didn’t notice that they’d stopped altogether. But all my clothes are so tight now I won’t be able to go on hiding it for much longer. It’s time to go.
    I’m expecting the door to His study to be locked, but it isn’t. The handle turns and the door opens smoothly. I take a step into the room and start to gag. Everything about the room speaks of Him: golfing prints on the wall, mahogany desk and chair. I almost lose my nerve, but I make myself go over to the desk. I try the drawers. They’re all locked. Shit! He’s probably got the key on Him, so that’s that. If I tried to break the locks, He’d notice and the game would be up.
    There’s a fireplace in the study with a mantelpiece over the top. He’s got family photos in frames arranged along it; happy smiling faces, the perfect family. The camera never lies. Does it?
    There’s one of me on my own, taken on holiday somewhere. The beach in Cornwall. I’m in a stripy swimming costume, blonde hair tumbling down onto my shoulders. I’m squinting at the camera because the sun’s so bright, smiling straight at the lens. I loved my dad. He was my hero – a big man, strong, funny. He knew everything, could do everything. And I was His princess. I was seven in that picture, and I was twelve when He started visiting me at night.
    What happened? Why did He start? Why couldn’t life stay like it was in the picture – golden, sunny, innocent?
    I reach forward and pick up the picture. It’s a long time since I felt like the girl in the photo: we could be different people. I look into her eyes for a few seconds then hold her close, hugging the frame into my chest. I want to mother her. I want to keep her safe. It’s too late for me, I think to myself, but not too late for the child inside me. We can start again – we can live life how it’s meant to be.
    Ahead of me, at eye level on the mantelpiece, there’s a key. He keeps it behind my picture. I pick it up and put my photo back. I want to hang on to that picture desperately, want to take it with me, but if anything is different, if anything’s out of place, He’ll notice and He’ll start asking questions. I can’t risk it. I’ve got to be careful.
    The key fits the desk drawers. His money’s in the top one.
    There are three rolls of notes, done up with rubber bands. Do I take them all and hope He doesn’t look there later tonight or in the morning? My hand hovers over the open drawer. In the end, I just take one, the one at the back, so if He opens it, everything’ll look just as it should be. He’ll only find out something’s wrong if He pulls the whole thing out.
    I put the roll in my pocket, close the drawer, lock it and replace the key behind my photo.
    ‘Goodbye,’ I say to the girl in the photo. I close the study door behind me, and go upstairs. I put the money in the zipped pocket in my bag, and check through my things again.
    Yes, it’s all there. I’m ready.

Chapter 9: Adam
    ‘F ind a partner and sit either side of a desk, facing each other. We’re doing sixty-minute portraits. Come on, partner up!’
    I’m back at school, of course. When I don’t come home, Nan rings the police