The Doll House: A gripping debut psychological thriller with a killer twist!. Phoebe Morgan
it’s a piece of clothing lying on the bonnet, but when I lean closer it hits me. The shock of it is awful; I recoil from the car, bile rising in my throat.
‘Dominic!’ I shout. ‘Dominic!’
I look over to the group frantically, they’re not paying attention to me. I cry out again, backing away from the car, and Dominic looks up, sees me and begins to come over, breaking into a run when he sees my face.
‘What is it?’ he says. ‘What’s the matter?’
I’m covering my mouth now, I can see passers-by staring at me, families emerging from the pub, making their way to their cars.
‘Look,’ I say. ‘Look!’
Dom steps forward, swears loudly when he sees what is lying on the bonnet of our car.
It is a rabbit. Dead, one of its eyes hanging slightly out of its skull, its mouth open in a frozen scream. The underside of it is matted with blood, its paws lie limply against the bonnet. It looks like it has been hit by a car.
‘Jesus,’ Dominic says. ‘Why the hell is this on the bonnet?’
‘I don’t know!’ I say. ‘I don’t know! I just came to the car and it was here, someone’s put it on our car! It’s horrible, oh God, it’s so horrible.’
‘Slow coaches slow coaches!’ Benji is running towards us, eager to begin the walk, and Dominic puts out an arm to stop him seeing the car. But it is too late.
‘Yuck! What’s happened to that bunny?’ Benji asks, screwing up his face and sticking out his tongue. ‘It’s dead like in science.’
‘Yep, yep it is, mate, OK, but not to worry, be a good lad and run back to your mum now,’ Dominic says. ‘You guys start without us, we’ll catch you up.’
Benji pulls another face, rolls his eyes. ‘Can I look at it?’
Dominic shakes his head. ‘No, mate, come on, go back to Grandma. We’ll be along in a bit. Do us a favour will you and tell them we’re just having a quick chat.’
Benji runs off, skidding his shoes along the gravel of the car park as he goes, making racing car noises. Dominic sighs.
‘What a sick thing to do, put it on the car like that. Poor creature. Leave it to me, I’ll get this cleared up. What a bloody mess.’
I am shaking, my eyes fixed on the poor rabbit’s face, half squashed by the force of whatever hit it.
‘Why our car, Dominic? Why this?’
He shrugs, shakes his head slowly. I don’t know how he can be so calm. ‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘You didn’t see anyone?’
‘Nobody.’
He grimaces. ‘Could be a practical joke, I suppose, or more likely some local weirdo.’ He glances around the car park. There are a group of men coming towards us, all clad in wellies and waterproof coats, laughing and jostling each other as they make their way into the pub. ‘Or someone protesting – people in the countryside are always against something – the badger cull, fox hunting. The amount of roadkill.’ He puts an arm around me, I am shaking.
‘It’s all right, my love. It won’t be anything personal – think about it, who do we know living out in deepest darkest Kent? No one. Except your mum of course, and somehow I don’t think she’s behind this.’ He smiles at me, trying to make me laugh. ‘Whoever did it was probably too scared to pick one of the fancy BMWs round here. Chose the scruffy car that looked as though its owners weren’t bothered!’ He sniffs. ‘You go on, join your family. Don’t let it upset you, my love. I’ll speak to the landlord of the pub too, report it. I bet you’ll find there’s been a spate of this kind of thing.’
My eyes flit across the car park. There are a couple of other cars: James’s Golf, a little red Mini and a dirty white camper van with the number plate loose. One of the waitresses is emptying a big barrel of bottles in the alley by the pub, the green glass smashing loudly. As I watch, two women come out of the restaurant area, both groaning and holding their stomachs as though they’ve eaten too much. A man with a little terrier holds the door open for them, smiling broadly. They look like mother and daughter.
My heart is beating fast through the thickness of my coat and I try to be logical, keep my gaze away from the poor bunny lying on the car. The sight of its bloodied fur makes my legs feel weak. Dominic is right – nobody knows us in Kent, nobody even knows we’re here.
Dominic has opened up the car, is looking for a plastic bag. The rabbit lies prone in front of us, its stiffening body a dark shape just in front of the windscreen. We used to have rabbits in Hampstead, two pet bunnies. Bertie and Nosie. They belonged to me and Ash.
I put my arms around Dominic, wanting his warmth and security. I don’t want to go on the walk without him. I look back at the car, at the bunny’s splayed legs, the way its skull has smashed in on itself. The poor thing wouldn’t have stood a chance.
Kent
Ashley
They are walking down the hill from the pub when James pulls Ashley over to one side. They lag back so that the group edge in front of them, Mathilde pushing the pram. Corinne and Dom are still by the pub; Ashley doesn’t know what is taking them so long. James grabs her sleeve and says he’s got to talk to her. Now.
‘Well all right,’ she says, in a joking sort of voice because the Merlot has gone to her head a bit and she’s just happy that he’s here, and they are all together, the five of them; she isn’t on her own, watching TV and waiting for the silent phone to ring.
Ashley tucks her hand inside the pocket of James’s jacket to join his own and puts her face close to his like a mock detective. Perhaps if she pretends as though everything is OK it really will be.
‘What’s up, mister?’ The look on his face is very serious and suddenly she feels a tiny bit sick. She pushes her tongue over her teeth, hoping they’re not stained from the red wine. Her heart begins to thud. Is he going to tell her? Is he going to tell her there’s another woman? Not now. Surely he wouldn’t do it here, in front of the children. Would he?
‘Did you give Corinne and Dominic money?’
There is a pause. Ashley blinks.
‘Well, yes, I lent her money for their final round of IVF. You know they’d run out. I told you, and I wanted to help. Sorry, I should have mentioned it but you’ve been so busy and I didn’t think you’d mind. You don’t, do you?’
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