She waits till he leaves the room and clicks in again. It’s so much easier to find people online than anyone ever realizes, especially if you have their phone number. WhatsApp, for example—in any group you join, you have access to every single phone number. Snapchat uses phone numbers to suggest connections, and this has been extremely useful in the last twenty-four hours.
It started late last night, when Venetia took Susan’s number from the screenshot shared in the Buy and Sell group and saved it into her contacts. She tried X, WhatsApp, then Snapchat. On the Quick Add tab on Snapchat, Venetia clicked into All Contacts, where her phone contacts were crossmatched with Snapchat users. She scrolled to Susan O’Donnell. And at midnight last night, as Saturday ticked over into Sunday, she struck gold. Susan was there as “DaisyJones6.” Anonymous on Snapchat but not for anyone with her number in their phone. Not for Venetia. That’s when Venetia’s heart rate began to speed up. On X, she found nothing, but on Facebook she found a newish profile with the name Dai-syJones6 and a daisy avatar. Venetia clicked in to see the Friends list; to check if they had anyone in common, or if Daisy was connected to Susan’s sister Leesa, but there were no friends at all. That in itself was interesting. Then she checked the Facebook pages that Daisy had liked. There were just four, and they were exclusively parenting sites—Mumsnet, Netmums, MumsIRL and Rollercoaster. She tried the first two but found nothing. Then she got to MumsIRL. She typed “DaisyJones” into the search bar and, finally, there it was. Dated three months ago, a post by DaisyJones6:
Hi, first-time poster, please be gentle…I’m scared of thoughts I’ve been having about my newborn. I keep thinking I’m going to hurt her. I’m really not coping. She cries all the time. I thinkabout walking away and leaving her and then I feel horrible, but it happens again and again and again. When I’m rocking her to get her to stop, I can imagine rocking her harder to try to stop her and I can understand (please, please, don’t judge me) why people could end up doing that. I wouldn’t do it, I know I wouldn’t, but I can’t make the thoughts stop. And what if I’m wrong? I can’t tell anyone in case she’s taken off me. I know she’s not in danger. But also, I’m scared.
Well. Venetia sat back. Here was something she could work with. A woman afraid she’d hurt her baby. A mother afraid of being judged. Fearful that her baby would be taken from her if anyone knew she was having these thoughts. Venetia reread the post on Facebook, thinking.
Wouldn’t it be interesting if people found out that Susan O’Donnell was afraid she’d deliberately hurt her baby…? Then she shook her head. That wasn’t enough. She thought some more. What if Susan came to believe that something bad might happen to her baby while in her care? She thought about Aimee’s unborn baby, inside Aimee’s body, cold and dead in a morgue. A knot of rage uncurled again inside Venetia. She worked to tamp it down. This wasn’t the time for spending energy on anger. She thought some more. And then it came to her. It would certainly be interesting if Susan thought something bad would happen to her baby. Venetia sat up straight. But wouldn’t it be even better if, ultimately, something baddidhappen to her baby?
36
Venetia
Five days earlier
“Close your eyes!”
Aimee was brimming with excitement. Venetia, sitting opposite her on the L-shaped couch, closed her eyes briefly. Wary; just as she always was in her sister’s house. Scrutinizing her face for bruises. Listening for the key in the door. Rory didn’t like Venetia to visit, so she always called when he was at work. But once, he’d come home early and she’d seen it in his expression as soon as he walked through the door. Oh, he was polite. Perfectly cordial. But cold. And Venetia could see Aimee tense, deflate, curl in on herself. All too aware that she’d be the one to pay. Later. When no one could see. Venetia had begged her to leave, so many times, and sometimes Aimee came close. But she was always too scared. Knowing he’d come after her. Afraid it would make things worse.
“OK, open your eyes!”
Venetia looked. Aimee was holding up a piece of paper. It took her a moment to absorb what it was. A scan. A baby scan. Oh god.
Aimee’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Isn’t it great?”
Venetia stared. No words formed.
“Oh, Vee, please say you’re happy for me?” The tears spilled over. Not happy tears, Venetia thought; desperate tears.
She took her sister’s hands in hers, the scan clasped between them.
“How far along?”
“I’m—oh, hang on.” Her phone vibrated beside her on the couch. “Let me just check this message.” Aimee dislodged her hands to pick up her phone. Venetia watched as she read, watched as Aimee’s expression changed.
“That’s Rory, he’s left work early. He’ll be back in ten.” Aimee moved to the edge of the couch. “I should probably check on dinner. We can catch up again, I’ll fill you in properly…”
“Hold on, take a second.” Venetia grabbed Aimee’s hand again, kept her seated. “How far along are you?”
“Eight weeks.” She laid the sonogram image on the coffee table. “I went for an early scan because of…”
Venetia nodded. Because of the baby she’d lost when Rory pushed her down the stairs. Right here in their house, because she was moving too slowly. A terrible accident, they both said after. She’d tripped on a corner of loose carpet. There was no loose carpet. And then there was no baby.
“Aimee. Listen to me. You can’t stay. You have to leave him.”
“But he’s been so good since he heard the news.” Aimee smiled through her tears. “He’s being so gentle.”
“Of course he is. Until the next time you make the wrong dinner or wear the wrong top. Then what?”
Aimee glanced toward the bifold doors to the kitchen. “Vee, he’ll be home any minute and I need to check on the shepherd’s pie. I don’t want it to dry out. And look, I really think he’s changed. He…he’s minding me, telling me to put my feet up.” A small hesitation. “He even wants me to give up my job, so I can rest more. We’ll be tight for money, but he says he only cares about me and the baby.”
“Oh my god, Aimee, you can’t give up your job, it’s your only bit of independence. He’s cut you off from all your friends. He’s tried to cut you off from me. The job is all you’ve got.”
Aimee looked toward the front window, then checked her phone. “It’s not exactly a great job though, when you’re pregnant. All the night-time events.”
“He just doesn’t want you working in such a social setting, meeting other people.”
“That’s not it. He’s been so different, so soft since the baby news.” Aimee’s eyes went to her phone. Rory would be here any moment now. Venetia knew she didn’t have much time.
