What Once I Was

Chapter 16

Life was empty without Rover. I'm not quite sure how Robert and I got through it. For a while I would still fill up his bowls, call his name out and wait. The reality would soon hit and I'd once more be reduced to a blubbering mess. I would never wish that pain on anybody else.

We kept his lead and collar, had placed them in a box frame and hung it above our mantlepiece. We had to move a few bits of Naomi's, but Rover deserved to have that spot. This had been his home far longer than it had ever been hers.

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"Mrs Collins, you keep telling us things that have no relevance to Naomi and what has happened. If you don't mind me saying, we don't really care about a dog. We want to know what happened to Naomi and where her body is."

I glare at Ben. Why shouldn't I talk about my Rover? The world doesn't revolve around Naomi after all. My lips tighten, arms folded across my chest. If he doesn't want to hear my story, then fine, I won't tell him anything. I don't owe him, or anyone else for that matter, an explanation for anything.

A thick silence clings to every corner of the room, Ben and I never lowering our gaze. Gary shuffles in his seat, clearing his throat repeatedly. No-one says a word, no-one moves. Not even an inch. I focus my attention on the soft hum of the air conditioning, the hairs on my arms standing to attention.

"The quicker you tell us what we need to know, the quicker we can all get out of here." Ben says.

He shrugs his shoulders once, leaving the floor open for my choice. A large part of me, the part I inherited from my father, wants to lean back and make myself home. To make it known that I won't bend my will to anyone. Yet, the quieter, more timid side that my mother fed into me rears its sleepy head. There is little competition. My body is numb from a chair designed to provide little comfort in order to gain a confession. My mind is exhausted, all the memories and stories I need to weave as one taking its toll.

"Fine."

A simple statement. An admission of defeat. For this battle, at least.

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Things had been relatively quiet in our life following Rover's death. Robert still wasn't working despite his promises, though I saw him even less than I previously had. When daylight would intrude into our bedroom, he would be up, showered, dressed and out of the door before my morning dose of caffeine had found the back of my mouth. I did my best to ignore the pang in my stomach as I watched his car pull out of the drive.

There was one day in particular, I remember it well. It was the day before mine and Robert's wedding anniversary and I'd snuck about the house searching for a present I'd hoped Robert had concealed somewhere. He had always been a nightmare for remembering important dates, but each year I held out hope.

I'd been stuck under the bed, my backside in the air, pulling box after box out, trying not to sneeze as dust attacked my sinuses. Robert shuffled about below me, nursing what he claimed to be the worst hangover known to mankind. Men really are babies when it comes to being a little under the weather.

Wiping the thick layer of fur and dirt off my trousers, I let out a deep breath. Nothing. I surveyed the room, trying to put myself in the mindset of a drunk old man. If I were a gift, where would I hide? The closet was out of bounds. Only I was allowed to enter that space, so I knew nothing of relevance would be kept in there. My fingers tapped against the wooden bedframe as my mind ticked. He had to have got me something. Right?

My fingers had just brushed the handle of his bedside table drawer when the shrill ring of the home phone stopped me in my tracks. It couldn't be! I turned, tripping over a discarded slipper and falling face first onto the carpet. The ringing continued. I had to get to the phone before Robert did. Why hadn't I installed one upstairs too?