‘But she didn’t seek further help?’ I ask, attempting to put the pieces together.
‘No. I don’t think she could accept what she’d been told.’ He sighs and drags a hand over his face. ‘The chaotic behaviour was the worst. It was as if her mind was jumping from thought to thought. Her speech would be manic, her actions. She would hallucinate, suffer delusions. One minute she loved me, the next… She said once she wished I would just die.’
Oh no.I stare at him, shocked.
He shrugs despondently. ‘She couldn’t help it. She was ill. I had to try to help her, be there for her. I loved her. She was caring and loving underneath all the negative stuff. Happy even. When she was hyper, she was… not present, that’s the only way I can describe it. Her eyes would be empty, her expression blank. It terrified me.’
‘But surely other people would have noticed? Her work colleagues? Lina?’ I’m struggling to believe that no one did, Jemma included.
Jack shakes his head. ‘She was prescribed antipsychotics, mood stabilisers. I don’t know how regularly she took them, but outside of the house she managed her symptoms, largely, masked them, because she felt ashamed. Anything could trigger a manic episode, though – the delusions and mood swings, eventually risky behaviour – sometimes the most obscure of things. A reminder, a smell or flashback, maybe. I don’t know.’
‘What kind of risky behaviour?’ I press him, needing to understand. Try to.
He drops his gaze. ‘Natalia was the one having affairs.’ He looks back at me with a sad smile. ‘So many I lost count. I think she did too.’
My throat tightens. ‘I’m sorry,’ I murmur. His look is agonised, and though he seems well versed in his description of her symptoms, I sense that this part, at least, is the truth.
‘She would call me having woken up in some strange place, not always the most savoury of places, after having sex with some man she didn’t know.’ He squeezes his eyes closed, as if he would prefer not to recall. ‘Often she would be injured, indicating what kind of encounters she’d had. It was almost as if she felt she wasn’t worth loving. That she didn’t deserve to be anything but abused.’
The bruises and the broken arm.My chest constricts.
‘I never hurt her, Kara,’ he goes on, his voice choked. ‘I swear to God I didn’t. Please believe me. For our baby’s sake, please don’t break up our family.’
TWENTY-FIVE
We walk in silence back to the house, each of us with our own thoughts. I’m reeling from all he’s just told me. Do I believe him? I think I do. He couldn’t have made up what he’d said about Natalia, the way she was, the issues she struggled with, on the spur of the moment. As for his aggressive reaction to all that Lina had said, she’d accused him of killing Natalia at the end of the day. Hadn’t he every right to be furious?
After a moment, he slows his walk to a stop and I turn to face him. ‘So, do you still want to be with me?’ he asks. There’s such uncertainty in his eyes, I don’t feel I can stay angry with him. I love him, even through all the confusion and the hurt. He didn’t tell me everything, but I suppose he would have been embarrassed, perhaps telling me as much as he thought he should on a need-to-know basis. He was right about Lina. Before she’d crash-landed into our lives, loving each other, being with each other, had seemed the most natural thing in the world.
‘I’m not going to run away at the first blip,’ I assure him. ‘Albeit a complicated blip.’
His taut body relaxes a little. ‘It’s certainly that,’ he concedes.
‘I’m having a baby,’ I remind him, reaching for his hand and bringing it to my growing bump. ‘And I happen to be in love with his father.’
Relief floods his features, swiftly followed by surprise as he feels our baby say hello by way of an energetic kick. ‘He’s moving,’ he says, looking at me in wonder.
‘Frequently,’ I tell him.
Jack’s mouth curves into a delighted smile. ‘Thank God for little miracles,’ he murmurs. He hesitates for a beat, and then moves towards me, wrapping his arms around me and pressing his forehead to mine. ‘Thank you,’ he says throatily, ‘for not running away. I wouldn’t have blamed you.’
As he holds me, I lean into him. I can trust him, I reassure myself, working to oust the doubt that’s been niggling away at me. ‘We’d better go back inside,’ I suggest.
‘I suppose,’ he agrees reluctantly. A frown crosses his face as he looks past me to the house. ‘I have a feeling we’re being watched,’ he says.
I twist to follow his gaze, just in time to see the front door closing, and trepidation creeps through me. ‘Do you think that was Evie?’ I glance anxiously at him.
‘Possibly.’ He looks perturbed. ‘She must have wondered where we’d got to.’
‘Do you think she might have heard our conversation?’ I ask, a new worry surfacing. I desperately don’t want her to be further affected by all of this.
He shakes his head. ‘I don’t think so. We were far enough away from the house. At least I hope not,’ he says, his thoughts obviously on a par with mine.
‘Did Lina know about Natalia?’ I ask him before we go inside. ‘She said you were claiming she had mental health issues, but she was adamant she didn’t.’ I’m fishing out of concern for Evie, wondering how much Lina is likely to tell her.
‘Honestly? I think she turned a blind eye to it,’ Jack replies with a sigh. ‘If she didn’t know, it will be because she didn’t want to.’
Once we’re through the front door, I head straight for the lounge, where I almost leap out of my skin as I see Lina standing stock-still at the back of the room, her small frame partially obscured by the stairs. ‘Is everything all right, Lina?’ I ask, forcing a bright smile.
