Page 8 of The Happy Family

Without knowing what caused this scene, I cannot be sure that Sadie hasn’t injured her neck or spine or some other part of her body that would not react kindly to being poked and prodded by two worried children. That’s why I make Arthur and Ruby retreat so that the next person who touches my ex-wife is a trained paramedic.

Or at least the next person after me. That’s because I cannot resist. I have to check for a pulse. So I do. I place my hand on one of Sadie’s limp wrists and try to detect a heartbeat beneath her skin.

Can I feel one? It’s hard to tell if it’s hers or mine. I’ve never had to do this before. It looks a lot simpler in the movies. But not so simple in real life.

‘Is she dead?’ Luna whispers to me, conscious of the kids, and when I look back at her, I see genuine fear on her face, as if the question hangs heavy on her but she had to ask it anyway.

‘Daddy?’ Ruby says, tears in her eyes. I quickly pull her in for a hug, leaving Luna’s question unanswered. But what can I say? I can hardly say yes when the kids are here. But I can’t say no and potentially give them false hope. The truth is that I don’t know what state Sadie is in, which is why it’s imperative that we get somebody here who does. I know we need an ambulance here ASAP. But first, I need to know why it’s needed in the first place.

‘What happened?’ I ask Luna, approaching her and seeing that the injury to her arm is bad. It looks like she has been cut. There is blood everywhere. One of her wrists looks damaged too, possibly broken. Sadie might be in a bad state behind me, but Luna hasn’t fared much better.

‘She broke in,’ Luna tells me, still looking shaken.

‘What?’

‘I heard a noise so I came down to check, and she attacked me with a knife,’ Luna goes on, her voice low but not so quiet that Arthur and Ruby can’t hear her. I want to move my children away so I can talk to Luna freely, but I can see that there is little chance of them leaving their mother’s side, so I gently lead Luna into the kitchen instead. When I do, I see a chaotic scene and I’m glad the children haven’t seen it too.

There’s blood on the floor. For some reason, there is also a pair of hedge clippers sitting on the breakfast bar.

‘She came in through the garage,’ Luna tells me, still clutching the wound on her arm, one that I now realise is a stab wound. ‘Maybe I forgot to lock the door. I don’t know. But just as I came in here, she was coming in too and she had the hedge clippers with her. I was scared and asked her what she was doing, and she said she wanted to get rid of me so she could have her family back.’

‘Oh my god.’

‘I tried to get her to calm down. To see sense. I asked her to put the clippers down and she did. I thought it was going to be okay then, but she suddenly grabbed a knife and lunged at me and she stabbed me. I panicked and we fought, and I must have hurt my wrist trying to stop her from stabbing me again. Then she left the kitchen and ran. I feared she was going up to you, but she slipped before she could get there. She banged her head on the way down and hasn’t woken up since.’

It’s a harrowing tale, told by a woman who is clearly traumatised. All I can think to do after hearing it is to wrap my arms around Luna and give her a hug. Except I can’t do that because she is seriously hurt and I don’t want to make her feel worse.

‘I’m calling an ambulance right now,’ I say. ‘And the police too.’

Luna doesn’t stop me. She tries to stem the blood flow from her arm. But just before my call to the emergency services can connect, she speaks up.

‘I’m worried about the baby,’ she says.

‘It’ll be okay,’ I reply, but I don’t know if that is true and now Luna is crying.

I have no choice. I have to try and hug her. She needs it. So do I.

As I embrace her, I’m as worried about our unborn child as she is and while I didn’t endure this frightening experience, I feel as scared as she must be. That’s because I’m scared of all the unknowns.

Why did this happen?

What will the consequence of it all be?

Is our baby really okay?

How will my children process this?

And, of course, the obvious questions that the police will want answering just as much as I do:

One, how could my ex-wife do something as terrible as this?

Two, will she live to be punished for it?

SIX

LUNA

Sadie still isn’t moving. But as I hold my hand over my stomach, I’m also trying to figure out if there are any movements from my baby. But it’s far too early in my pregnancy to be feeling movements, not that it’s stopping me from trying. I would say that if the stress and the slashing of the knife that Sadie delivered to my doorstep tonight has cost me the loss of my child then I will kill her. Although it might be a bit late for that because I think she’s already dead. That just leaves me wishing I could kill her twice. For now, all I can do is wait for the ambulances and the police cars to arrive and hope for the best. Part of that hoping includes everybody believing my version of the story of what happened tonight. It’s a false, fabricated story, as it often is with me, but it should be easy to make everybody believe it.