‘Who did, Lina?’ he asked, talking softly, trying to calm her.
‘Natalia,’ she whispered tremulously. ‘She’s not well, Jack. You have to stop her before she does something terrible. You have to help her.’
‘Jesus.’ Jack felt his emotions collide, fury and ice-cold fear. She’d injected her ownmotherwith… What? Sedatives? Even knowing she had a heart problem? She could have killed her. What else might she be capable of?
SIXTY-FOUR
NATALIA
As I stare up at Evie, I slide the knife quickly into the belt at the back of my jeans, praying she hasn’t seen it. My breath stalls. I hadn’t realised how much she might have grown, maturing from a self-conscious teenager into a young woman, her beautiful face achingly familiar, yet such hostility in her eyes it tears my heart from inside me.
‘Evie.’ I breathe out her name, then, smiling tremulously, move towards the stairs. ‘I’ve missed you somuch.’
Evie says nothing but continues to glare thunderously down at me. In this moment, she looks so much like her father, the same expression on her face, one of despair fused with utter disdain. It sends a chill of icy foreboding right through to the core of me. What has he been telling her? How much has he distorted the memory of me in my child’s mind?
‘Why don’t you come down, sweetheart?’ I take a small step towards her, desperate to close my arms around her and hug her tight, for her to hug me back. She hadn’t been an easy child – there were times when I simply didn’t know how to cope with her temperamental outbursts – but I’d loved her. I still love her, fiercely. Jack can’t change that fact. However hard he tries, he can’t break the special bond that connects mother and childforever. He can’t replace me in her affections, can’t ever be the person she needs him to be, someone who’s strong enough to help her.
Evie doesn’t budge. Her gaze locked unflinchingly on mine, she doesn’t speak. I sense her fury. It’s palpable, emanating from her in waves. It’s me she’s furious with. She’s bound to be, but she will calm down. When I explain, she will realise why I had to resort to the extremes I have. How scared I’ve been of making my presence known until now, and why.
‘Evie, please talk to me.’ I speak softly, willing her to believe how much I care for her. How much I’ve always cared.
She follows my progress as I take another tentative step towards the foot of the stairs. Still she stares mutely at me, her expression now something close to hatred, and my heart drops to the pit of my stomach. What’s going through her mind? I wonder, sick trepidation creeping through me. Does she think that I deliberately deserted her? That, although I was alive, I couldn’t be bothered to make contact with her? I have to reassure her. She has to realise that I would willingly have died that day to save her. Equally, that the reason I’d fought so hard to live was for her.
‘Could you come down, Evie, do you think?’ I try again, working to keep the desperation from my voice. ‘We need to talk. There’s so much I need to?—’
‘Evie, don’t! Go back to your room,’ Kara shouts urgently over me, and pure unadulterated anger rips through me.
‘Don’t youdare,’ I seethe, twisting to glare at her. ‘She’smydaughter.Mine.’ I bang my hand against my chest to emphasise that fact.
Kara’s gaze flicks to Evie and then back to me, and there’s an unmistakable challenge in her eyes. If she sees an opportunity to stop me, she will take it. What should I do? I have to get to my daughter. I have to make her understand and get her out of here.
Forcing myself to smile, I turn back to Evie. ‘I need to talk to you, darling,’ I say cautiously. Careful to keep holding her gaze, I take a breath, then, ‘I’m coming up,’ I say, mounting the first step of the stairs. ‘I have so much I need to tell you, and you must have so many questions.’
There’s still no response. Her expression is hard, her eyes dark and unreadable.
I falter for a second, and then press on, pausing at the top of the stairs as Evie walks towards me. Her gaze never leaving mine, she doesn’t speak but continues to stare at me. An icy shiver ripples through me as I see the coldness in her eyes. This is Jack’s doing. He’s poisoned her mind against me. Fury swells inside me and I curse myself for giving him free rein. ‘Whatever your father’s told you about me, Evie, it’s not true, you know that, don’t you?’ I ask, my tone more assertive, though I feel far from that.
She tips her head to one side, seeming to consider. ‘Why do you hate him so much?’ she asks. ‘Why do you want to hurt him?’
I emit an astonished gasp. ‘You can’t seriously be siding with him, can you?’ I ask. ‘He pushed me.’ I search her face, looking for any indication that she remembers or cares. ‘That day in Antigua? You must remember?’ I try. ‘He was angry. Seething with jealousy simply because I spoke to another man. He lost his temper. Because I stood up to him. Because I told him our marriage wasn’t working and asked him to leave.’
Still there’s nothing. Her expression is completely devoid of emotion. But then something shifts, a flicker of relief crossing her face as she glances sideways and down to the lounge.
My heart leaps into my mouth as Jack speaks. ‘Why are you doing this, Natalia?’ he says gruffly, the very same words he’d used on that day in Antigua when, after robbing me of what little confidence I had left, cheating on me with the woman who was supposed to be psychoanalysing me, he tried to rob me ofmy life. His tone had been the same, confused, bemused,hurt. Calculated to turn my daughter against me.
Hatred burning inside me, I twist to sweep my gaze over him, then snap my attention back to my daughter. ‘Your fatherpushedme, Evie. He’s done nothing but lie to you.’
Again Evie appears to consider for a moment, then, ‘He didn’t,’ she says coldly, and turns away.
‘Evie!’ I lurch forward to grab hold of her. ‘He tried tokillme.’
‘Hedidn’t,’ she fumes, her arms shooting out as she spins back around. ‘It wasn’t him, it was me!Ipushed you.’
SIXTY-FIVE
EVIE
I should feel something as I watch my mother flail backwards, her body tumbling and bouncing off every step of the stairs. I don’t feel anything.Because you see it all now, don’t you?whispers a knowing voice in my head. I do. Iseeher. Who she is. What she did. Where before there was nothing but broken images, that whole day in Antigua now plays through my mind like a bad movie.
