‘Slipped up there?’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘You mean you went up to Ollie’s room without being invited?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted, her cheeks heating up. ‘Laura and her mother were talking in the kitchen. It was obvious the situation between them was awkward, so I waited in the hall. I wondered whether I should just let myself out, but I wanted to see where Ollie slept. I thought it wouldn’t hurt to pop up while—’ She stopped as Joe’s phone rang.
He pulled it from his pocket and checked the number. ‘It’s work. I have to get it,’ he said, frowning as he took the call. ‘Yep, on my way … Sorry. Car trouble.’
He was lying, because he was late, because she’d made him late. Sarah swallowed back another lump of guilt.
‘I have to get going,’ he said, pocketing the phone.
‘You’re annoyed, aren’t you?’ She noted the agitated tic playing at his cheek.
He hesitated. ‘I’m not annoyed, Sarah,’ he said contemplatively. ‘Why would I be? I’m just concerned, that’s all. I hear what you’re saying, but if you want my honest opinion, it seems as if you’re looking for reasons not to like her.’
What?Was that what he thought too? Suddenly Sarah felt as if the whole world were against her.
‘I really have to go.’ He hesitated, and then leaned to give her a cursory kiss on the cheek. ‘I’ll call you.’
Stunned, she stared after him as he turned and headed up the hall. The front door opening galvanised her into action. She wasnotlooking for reasons. She wasnotbeing neurotic. She wasnotjealous of Laura! Had he not heard a word she’d said? He should be concernedforher, not about her.
‘She cut his ear off!’ she shouted as Joe neared his car. ‘Bunny, she cut his ear off!’
Opening the car door, Joe stopped and turned around. Even under the glow of the street lamp, Sarah could see that his look was deeply troubled.
‘Sarah …’ He sucked in a breath, blew it out slowly. ‘Listen to what you’re saying, will you? You’re becomingobsessedwith her.’
‘I amnot!’ she argued tearfully. ‘I’m concerned! For my son. With damn good reason it appears onlyIcan see.’
Joe dropped his gaze. ‘I have to go,’ he said, his tone flat. ‘I’ll ring you. We’ll talk tomorrow.’
Sarah’s heart dropped. Would he? she wondered, tears pricking her eyes. Would any man bother to ring a woman he believed was obsessing about her ex’s new girlfriend, and was therefore clearly obsessed with her ex?
Thirteen
Laura
‘So stupid of me not to have taken my house keys. I was in such a rush when I left,’ Sherry sighed melodramatically from the bedroom. Laura was well aware that she was pretending despair at herself. Her keys were probably in her bag. She really was a master manipulator. Recalling how she’d coerced Grant into marrying her, how she continued to mercilessly control her daughter, Laura felt a shudder run through her.
‘Any good, darling?’ Sherry enquired as, attempting to keep the peace until her mother had gone, Laura struggled into a top that was supposed to be on trend: a gaudy apple-green thing with bat wings. There was a similar one in fuchsia pink, another colour Laura detested. She’d always preferred subtle, calming colours.
‘Yes, fine, thanks. I’ll try them on with my leggings later,’ she called from the bathroom. Best not to get into an argument about why Sherry insisted on bringing her clothes that were shapeless and unflattering, she decided, pulling her own clothes back on. That was bound to stress her out.
‘So how’s the job going?’ Sherry asked as she emerged, with her usual nuance of interest.
‘Fine,’ Laura replied shortly. ‘I love it there.’
‘I gathered you must. I mean, you’d have to be keen to work somewhere like that, wouldn’t you? With all those poor old people dying around you, I mean.’
And kind, and dedicated, Laura didn’t bother to add. It was rare that her mother recognised her attributes. ‘They’re not all old,’ she remarked, for what it was worth. Steve’s father hadn’t been old. Sixty-five was no age. She’d felt for Steve, been glad she’d been there for him.
‘I still think you could have done so much more with your life than become a care-giver at a hospice, though, darling.’ Sherry sighed with exasperation, causing Laura to bite hard on her tongue. ‘Something that required some kind of qualification at least. You would be a little better off financially then, wouldn’t you? I mean, Grant and I don’t mind helping you out here and there – we’re always happy to, you know that – but it would be nice to know you were secure.’
Don’t rise to the bait, Laura warned herself. Her mother was doing what she always did: making her feel like a failure, undermining her. As if she’d stood any chance of finishing her education when her mind and body had basically stopped functioning. She’d stayed ensconced in her room, watching the press mass like a pack of hungry wolves outside, the police coming and going, answering questions when she’d had to. She hadn’t told them anything more than her mother had already told them: that she’d taken a sedative, that she’d been sleeping. Sherry had taken her aside once the police had left that first time, told her shehadbeen sleepwalking. She hadn’t informed the police, she’d said, wringing her hands, her eyes fraught with worry, lest they think Laura might have been involved in some way.
When the walls had closed in on her until she was silently screaming, she’d rebelled, nightclubbing and partying, anaesthetising herself with alcohol and drugs until she couldn’t smell the chlorine any more, couldn’t hear the lap of the water, couldn’t remember the events of the day before, or the night before. She’d changed her name when she left, managed to stay hidden until, shaking and twitching, desperation had forced her to use her debit card. She’d woken at the squat to find her mother looming over her. ‘Don’t be angry, darling.’ She’d smiled her brittle sweet smile as Laura had shuffled away from her, screamed at her to get out of her head. ‘I’m just here to help,’ she’d said, gathering her up and taking her home. She’d turned up several times since, oozing sympathy as Laura’s life had fallen apart, taking her back to the place where her nightmares had started. If the memories haunted her, her mother haunted her more. She would never let go of her. Laura thought she would probably follow her to the grave.
She wouldn’t let her. Shewouldhave her life back, if only she could find the courage to confront her, tell her she didn’t believe that she had been sleepwalking on the darkest night of her life; that when she’d woken, she’d experienced the kind of hangover she’d later come to recognise as drug-induced. Her mother claimed she was trying to protect her. She wasn’t. She was protecting herself. Her lifestyle. That was all Sherry had ever held dear.
‘I do wonder why you didn’t think about going to university, Laura,’ she went on now. ‘You were always so good at English. It seems such a terrible waste.’
