I go to sleep snuggled in Nick’s arms, feeling safe and secure. I feel happier now that things are out in the open between us. He’s been so kind and supportive. As he’s always been ever since he came into our lives. How could I have doubted him like that? I should have talked to him about everything before, Mum too. They’ve both always been so understanding. And poor Alison, to think she’d been carrying guilt all these years too. Maybe that’s why she’d become a nurse, so that she knew what to do if anything like that happened again.
A few hours later I wake with a start. What was that? I listen carefully, all I can hear is the sound of Nick snoring softly. Maybe it was a cat.
A thought flashes into my mind. Mum’s missing papers! I was about to tell Mum about them, and about what the customer said about George being in financial trouble, before I dashed into the kitchen to try and catch Alison doping Mum’s drink.
Immediately my brain is wide awake. Was I right when I suspected that someone was drugging Mum? Was it George, making her mind hazy so she’ll agree to sign her finances over to him? Has he already coerced her to alter her will?
I have to stop thinking like this. It’s my anxiety again making me paranoid.
But sleep has gone now so I go downstairs to make myself a drink.
An eerie feeling creeps on me as soon as I open the kitchen door. I can almost taste danger. I flip on the light and look around. Everything seems fine but my senses are exploding, warning me to be careful.
I pad across the floor, my eyes scanning the kitchen. They rest on the tea towel lying on the floor. I frown. Why is it lying there as if it’s been knocked over?
I stoop and pick it up. Everything else is in place. I flick on the kettle to make myself a cup of chamomile tea and sit at the kitchen table, savouring it and thinking over the events of the last week or so. I’m glad that it’s all sorted with Alison now, and that I know the truth about her and Nick. I wish he had told me right away but it was a long time ago, and I’m not going to let it bother me. I’d jumped to conclusions so much, I must be careful not to do it again. And as for George, there must be a reasonable explanation. Mum told me that they had agreed to keep their finances separate when they were married and she was going to see the solicitor about it. She probably asked George to drop her will in seeing as she couldn’t get about with her bad ankle. Or she asked him to fetch the papers for her so she could look through them. She couldn’t get upstairs herself, could she? I’ll talk to Mum about it when I next see her.
I finish my drink, my mind calmer now, and go back to bed where Nick is still snoring softly. The drink must have soothed me because the next thing I know Nick is opening the curtains and sunlight blazes into the room.
‘Morning. Did you have a disturbed night?’ he asks.
‘A bit. I went downstairs and made myself a drink,’ I tell him, yawning and sitting up.
‘I don’t like you going outside late at night though, Lizzie. I realise that you probably wanted some fresh air but you never know who’s lurking about.’
I rub my eyes and yawn again. ‘I didn’t go outside. Why do you think I did?’
‘You must have done, Liz. The door was unlocked and I definitely locked it when I went to bed. I always do.’ Which is true, Nick is super security conscious. He always locks the doors and takes the key out so that the kids can’t let themselves out while we’re asleep.
The door was unlocked!I recall the feeling I had when I came down that someone had been in the kitchen. The tea towel lying on the floor as if someone had brushed past the drawer handle it had been hanging on and knocked it off.
‘Someone came in.’ I tell him about my feeling and the tea towel. ‘It was lying on the floor.’
‘That doesn’t mean someone sneaked in, Liz. How could they? There’s no sign of a break-in which means they used a key and no one has a key but us.’
‘And Mum,’ I point out. ‘It’s like the peanut butter. Someone has a key to our house and is sneaking around, Nick.’
‘Liz, love, you need to stop jumping to all these conclusions.’ Nick’s voice is calm, soft. Patronising. ‘Nothing has been taken. There’s no sign that anyone’s been in. You must have opened the door and gone out into the garden, half awake. You know what you’re like when you get up in the night.’
I don’t like the tone of his voice or the look he’s giving me but I don’t say anything because I’m scared that he might be right.
‘Look, I’ll take the kids out for a bit, you stay and rest,’ he says. ‘This week has been a big strain for you.’ He kisses me on the forehead and goes out, shutting the door behind him.
I close my eyes and try to brush away the memory of the dark days when I had a breakdown, when I was imaginingthings, forgetting things, seeing danger all around us. Has Mum marrying George and bringing the past back up sent me spiralling again?
I hear Nick calling the kids, telling them to get ready as they’re going to feed the ducks straight after breakfast. There’s a small duck pond in the woods about ten minutes’ walk from where we live and the kids love to go there. We always keep a bag of mixed grains in the cupboard to give them as bread isn’t good for them.
I don’t want to lie in bed while life carries on around me, like I did all those years ago. I’m going to face this and deal with it. I have to for my children’s sake. I get up, grab my dressing gown and head downstairs shouting, ‘I’ll get the breakfast ready.’
I walk into the kitchen and look around. Everything is as it should be. The tea towel is folded and hanging through the handle of the drawer, as I left it. One of us must have knocked it off last night and didn’t notice. After all, as Nick pointed out, nothing’s been taken or disturbed. A spooky feeling and a tea towel lying on the floor isn’t much to go on.
And the unlocked back door.
I take out two bowls and shake the kids’ favourite cereal into each one, then fill a jug with milk. I’ve just put it all on the table when Isaac and Grace run in, washed and dressed, their eyes sparkling with excitement.
‘Morning, you both look happy.’ I hold out my arms and they both rush in for a hug.
‘Daddy’s taking us to feed the ducks,’ Grace tells me, then her eyes rest on my wrist. ‘Mummy, your bracelet is making you bleed.’
