‘I’m fine,’ she assures me. ‘I like to give my tea bag a good soak. I can’t stand tea that tastes like cat’s pee. It’s you who should be taking the weight off your feet. You have a lot to deal with.’
None of which I had to deal with before you appeared.I sigh and do as she suggests, since I can do little else until she leaves.
Lina comes across with the tea. ‘Do you have any biscuits?’ she asks. ‘You look as if you could use a sugar boost.’
‘Cupboard.’ I nod towards it, not bothering to tell her I’m watching my sugar intake for my baby’s sake.
Lina fetches the biscuit barrel and comes across with it. Placing it on the table, she tells me to help myself. I’m beginning to wonder if she really does think this is her house. I take a sip of my tea and try very hard to hold on to my patience.
‘So,’ she says through a mouthful of biscuit, ‘are you going to leave him?’
My patience evaporates in an in instant. Curtailing my anger, just, I take another drink of tea, which actually does taste like cat’s pee, and resist telling her that she should leave. As in, leave my house and the annexe. Get out of our lives, Evie’s in particular, before she destroys it.
‘He’s a bad lot, mark my words,’ she mutters on, spitting crumbs. ‘I saw it immediately, but my Natalia never could. If only she’d listened?—’
‘Lina…’ I grate the word out. I’m about to tell her exactly what I think of her – that I’m coming around to Jack’s thinking – when my phone rings, stopping me short.
‘Him, I see,’ she observes derisively as Jack’s name flashes up.
Biting my tongue, I snatch the phone up, spin around and head for the lounge to take the call in private. Not that I imagine she won’t be listening.
‘Hey,’ Jack says, sounding surprised as I answer, ‘how are you? Stupid question,’ he adds quickly.
‘Okay,’ I answer vaguely. ‘Lina’s here.’ I feel the need to warn him. ‘The police were also here.’
He emits a heavy sigh. ‘I know. They left a message. That’s why I’m calling. They want my phone. I’m on my way to the station to drop it off now. I’m going to grab a pay-as-you-gophone on the way back, so I’ll be a bit delayed. I’ll text you the new number.’
A smidgen of hope rises inside me. He will be aware they can find all sorts on a phone if it’s there to find. If he’s taking it in voluntarily, then surely there can’t be anything. Relief sweeps through me, followed by such a sudden bout of dizziness, I feel myself reel.
‘I wondered whether you’d heard my message?’ he goes on as I manage to make my way to the sofa to lower myself carefully down on it.
Feeling frighteningly short of breath suddenly, I struggle to answer.
‘If you’d rather I didn’t come back today, I understand,’ he says uncertainly. ‘I’d like to, obviously. I really do need to speak to you, but if you need some time…’
‘No. I mean, yes, come back,’ I manage, my voice shaky. ‘We do need to talk.’ I don’t feel well, not at all well, I want to sob, but I don’t, because if I can’t depend on him to be there, to be the man I thought he was, to support me and care for me, then I can’t allow myself to lean on him.
‘I’ll be there as soon as I can. Are you going to be okay?’ he asks, clearly concerned.
‘Yes, fine,’ I mumble, now feeling horribly nauseous, and beyond tired, exhaustion hitting me like a wall. ‘See you then.’ Ending the call quickly, I’m attempting to rise from the sofa when Lina appears from the kitchen.
‘Oh my word.’ She comes across as I sink back down, sits next to me and takes hold of my hand. ‘You’re shaking,’ she says, her expression alarmed as she scans my face. ‘What has he been saying to you? He’s clearly upset you.’
‘Lina, he hasn’t! Just stop, will you?’ I yank my hand from hers. ‘Please go,’ I implore her. ‘I can’t do this. I’msotired.’
She pulls herself to standing. ‘Not until I’ve made sure you’re all right,’ she says, heading back to the kitchen.
She returns in a minute, remarkably quickly considering her heart condition. ‘Come on, drink your tea,’ she says, lifting the cup to my lips. ‘It will do you good.’
‘I don’twantit, Lina.’ I push the cup away, then clamp my hands to my tummy, terrified as I wonder if my baby’s all right. He kicks as if on cue, frenetic little flutters that don’t quite reassure me. It’s affecting him. Guilt racks my body. He can sense my stress and he’s frightened.
‘Well, if you’re sure.’ Sighing, she places the cup on the coffee table and turns back to me. ‘You need to lie down, though. No arguments,’ she says.
Too drained to protest, I watch as she fetches the cushions from one of the armchairs, plumps them up and places them at the end of the sofa. ‘Shuffle around,’ she instructs. ‘I don’t want you attempting those stairs. I would never forgive myself if you fell.’
She helps me lift my legs and I sink gratefully into my makeshift pillow. ‘I’ll let myself out. Try to get some sleep,’ she says, collecting the cup and going back to the kitchen.
Moments later, she calls goodbye. As I hear the front door closing behind her, the tension leaves my body and I begin to slip into much-needed sleep. Lost on a blissful calm sea, the sun warming my face, I allow myself to drift. And then my mind shifts, my body jerking, and again I’m plummeting endlessly into the fathomless dark.
