Chapter 5: Caroline Speaks
She called me first.
I was in Jean's kitchen collecting Sophie when my phone rang — a number I didn't recognize, but a voice I knew immediately.
"It's Caroline," she said.
"Can you talk?"
Sophie was pulling on my sleeve, showing me a drawing she had made — a house with yellow windows and a lopsided tree.
I smoothed her hair and mouthed five minutes to Jean, who nodded and took Sophie by the hand toward the sitting room.
"I can talk," I said.
A pause.
The sound of a door closing on her end.
"He went through my phone last night," Caroline said.
"After you left.
He didn't find anything because I'd already deleted the messages.
But Emma — he knows I spoke to you at the table.
He's been very calm this morning, which is worse than when he shouts."
"Are you safe?"
"For now." Another pause.
"I want to speak to your solicitor."
"I was going to ask you."
"I know what he did," Caroline said.
"Not all of it.
But enough.
Your mother came to me because she didn't trust Richard and she didn't want to go to Daniel.
She knew they were close.
She gave me that envelope and she said Caroline, if anything happens to me, make sure Emma gets this.
Those were her exact words."
My throat tightened.
"And you gave it to Richard."
"He told me she was confused.
That the document was outdated, that it had already been superseded by a newer arrangement, that giving it to you would only cause you pain while you were grieving." A long silence.
"I believed him.
I wanted to believe him.
I'm sorry, Emma.
I have been sorry for three years."
"Why now?" I asked.
"Why are you telling me now?"
"Because of the planning application," she said.
"I found it on his desk two months ago.
He's going to tear down your mother's house.
And I realized — he was never going to stop.
There was always going to be one more thing."
I sat down at Jean's kitchen table.
"My solicitor's name is Margaret Hale," I said.
"I'm going to give you her number.
She needs a written statement from you — what my mother said, when she said it, what you handed to Richard, what he told you."
"I'll do it."
"Caroline.
He sent me a threatening message last night.
From an unknown number, but I know it was him.
If he finds out you've spoken to Margaret—"
"He's going to find out regardless," she said.
"I've already spoken to my sister.
I'm taking the children to her house on Friday.
I'm not going back."
Something shifted in my chest.
Not quite relief.
Something more complicated than that.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"I know this isn't what you planned."
"No." A short, quiet sound that might have been a laugh.
"But it's what's true.
And I find I can only live with true things now." She paused.
"Your mother was a good woman, Emma.
She talked about you constantly.
She was so proud of you."
I pressed my hand flat against the table.
"Thank you," I managed.
"Give me Margaret's number," Caroline said.
"And Emma — be careful.
When Richard feels cornered, he doesn't get loud.
He gets methodical.
Watch what he does, not what he says."
I wrote Margaret's number on the back of Sophie's drawing — the house with yellow windows — and read it out slowly.
After I hung up, I sat for a moment looking at the drawing.
Sophie appeared in the doorway.
"Is that our house, Mama?"
"It's Grandma's house," I said.
"But I'm going to try to make it ours."
She considered this with the gravity that four-year-olds bring to important things.
"Does it have a garden?"
"It has roses," I said.
"Along the south wall."
She nodded, satisfied, and disappeared back into the sitting room.
My phone buzzed again.
Margaret.
*Injunction filed.
Hearing set for Thursday.
Richard's solicitor has already made contact.
He's moving fast.
So are we.*
I read it twice.
Then I put the phone in my pocket and went to find my daughter.
May you like
Thursday was four days away.
Richard had four days to find a way to stop me — and Caroline had just told me exactly how he would try.
