From the Inside

by Collette Heather

  I get to my feet. I feel strange and I don’t know why. All of this, this infiltrating her life, it isn’t as satisfying as I thought it would be. I thought that I would feel like a sexy super-spy, but instead I feel like the dowdy, hired help. Even now, in the middle of this crazy, dangerous game that I am playing, I feel less the cat and more the mouse. Tanya always comes out on top. Tanya always wins in the war that she doesn’t even know that she is fighting.

  I wander out into the hallway, casting a disinterested glance at the mop and bucket propped up against the wall. I have hoovered upstairs and placed all the vacuumed rugs on one of the spare beds in preparation for The Big Mop Down.

  As soon as I hear the click of the front door, I will leap into action and resume my role of Mrs Mop.

  But for now, I make my way down the hall, to Bella’s room. I pause in the doorway, my gaze sweeping over the large room. I’m pretty sure that this room alone is bigger than the entire square footage of my basement flat.

  My eyes fall upon the cot. Just looking at it makes my heart ache. Images of my own daughter at that age – my darling Lucy – flash through my mind. I don’t just want Tanya’s husband. I want her child, too.

  I could kill the bitch. Take her place.

  The evil thought is soul-shattering, a sledgehammer to the brain, rocking me to the core.

  I could never do such a thing. Of course I couldn’t. I am a good person. I’ve just lost my way a little right now.

  But still. It’s an attractive fantasy, even if it is just that. A fantasy. Nothing more and nothing less.

  I grip the top bar of Bella’s cot, my eyes burning hot. Rapidly, I blink. I miss her so, so much. Lucy was my life, my everything, and she is gone, because of her.

  My vision blurs as I stare down at the empty cot. Empty, like my heart, I think melodramatically. I reach down and pluck up a pink teddy bear that is lying in the middle of the mattress. I feel shivery and achy as I hold up the bear, like I am coming down with something. But I know that the only thing I am coming down with is grief.

  Just then, as I rage war on the swell of tears that threaten to overflow, I think I hear the distant click of the front door opening. I gasp, freeze, hold my breath and strain my ears. The house is so large, it’s not always easy to hear movement downstairs if you’re upstairs.

  I drop the bear and rush back out into the hallway, keeping my footsteps as light as possible. I stare over at Tanya’s bedroom door. To my horror, I have left it open. And, as I had exited the room in such a dreamlike state, I can’t remember if I have smoothed out the duvet again after lying on their bed. Now I can clearly hear Tanya and Bella down in the hallway – Tanya’s voice calm and soothing, Bella’s a singsong, meaningless babble that makes my heart ache afresh.

  I hurry over to the bedroom door, and peer around it. My heart squeezes in my chest, then thumps painfully hard against my sternum, because the bed is rumpled. Swearing under my breath, I hurtle into the room, frantically swipe at the duvet to flatten it, then run back out into the hallway, gently shutting the door behind myself.

  The whole exercise takes less than ten seconds, and it sounds like Bella and Tanya haven’t moved from the hallway. They probably haven’t even yet put away the pushchair, where it lives in the large, inside porch.

  I was panicking over nothing. It’s hardly surprising that I am so jumpy, but even so. I need to get a grip. I go back over to where I left my mop and bucket. I have to finish the job if I am to stay on here as the cleaner.

  Tanya doesn’t come upstairs, and I get on with scrubbing her floors, festering resentment, anger and sadness twisting in my heart.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  I finish the job in less than an hour. I return the mop and bucket to the main upstairs bathroom – a huge, lavish room, complete with oversized, claw-footed bath – and open the large cupboard where the boiler is housed, popping everything back where I found it.

  Even this boiler cupboard alone is probably bigger than my kitchen, and a sick jealousy twists in my stomach. It is all just so unfair.

  That done, I go downstairs, glancing at my modest wristwatch as I do so. It is only half past eleven, which means I still have half an hour to find something else to clean in the bitch’s house. Perhaps, I think bitterly, she would like me to clean a toilet seat with my tongue.

  I make my way to the kitchen, purely because that’s where the bulk of the cleaning equipment is. I am faintly surprised to find Tanya and Bella in here. Usually, at this time of the morning, Bella is taking her nap in the living-room, and Tanya stays with her, either going on her computer or reading one of her many books.

  “Hey,” I say lightly, hoping that I am suitably hiding my disgust at her. “I’ve mopped all the floors upstairs, everything’s gleaming.”

  “Oh, you are good,” she smiles.

  Patronising bitch, I think.

  I shrug. “Just doing my job.”

  Tanya is over by the kettle on the other side of the kitchen, and Bella is opposite me where I stand in the doorway, sitting on her snakes and ladders rug by the patio doors. She is gurgling to herself, playing with her assortment of soft dolls and teddy bears. It’s hard to tell, but it looks like she’s trying to make them sit in a row, but they keep toppling over.

  I smile as I watch her, a genuine surge of warmth flowing through me. Because, as much as I may have christened her Tanya’s brat in my head, I don’t really mean it.

  I miss my Lucy so much, Tanya just doesn’t know how lucky she is. I’d give anything to have my little girl back. Anything.

  Tanya simply doesn’t deserve her. I deserve her.

  “Look at her, organising her teddies,” I say. “she’s going to grow up to be a schoolteacher, I can tell.”

  “Yes, either that or a drill sergeant,” Tanya laughs. “She’s a bossy little thing. She may look all sweetness and light, but you have no idea.”

  Ungrateful, rude bitch, I think, the smile plastered firmly to my face.

  “Well, best get on.”

  With that, I make my way to my right. Over in that corner, next to the modern, blocky white sideboard, is the cupboard where all the cleaning gear is kept. I open the door.

  “Oh, don’t worry about that,” Tanya says, striding over towards me from the other side of the kitchen.

  I turn to look at her, unsure as to what she means.

  “I still have half an hour left – I thought that I might clean your oven. Unless, of course, you have something else in mind that you’d rather I do.”

  I heard somewhere – I don’t know where – that most cleaners in private homes don’t do ovens. So I thought that I would give it a go, my thinking being that it would make me look good and give me some extra brownie points.

  Tanya waves a hand dismissively. “I think you’ve done enough for one day, Anne.”

  Panic claws at my chest. Done enough for one day? Does she mean I’ve done enough damage? Is she sacking me?

  Tanya giggles slightly at my obvious look of distress, and an image of me leaping on her and ripping out her throat slams unbidden into my mind.

  “Anne, please, don’t look so frightened. I meant that you are far and away the best cleaner I’ve ever had, and you’ve done more than enough work for one day.”

  She walks over to the sideboard that separates us, opens a drawer, and pulls out a small purse. She opens it, and hands me a small wad of notes.

  “You can finish early today. And there’s a little extra in there, too.”

  My stomach twists into a tight knot of disgust. How much extra? I am insulted. I don’t want – or need – her charity.

  “Why are you paying me more?” I ask. Oh Mistress and Lady Muck, I add in my head.

  She looks faintly taken aback, confused, perhaps. As well she might, I suppose; most cleaners would be thrilled to receive a bonus in their pay packets. But not this cleaner. She can shove that extra few quid up her bony arse, because I do not want it.

  “It’s only a
n extra fifty pounds – just a small thank you for a job well done. And I thought that I’d pay you now, rather than tomorrow, while I remember.”

  “Right.” I am trembling in indignation. “Thanks. You’re very kind.”

  “It’s really nothing.”

  Over by the patio doors, Bella is growing more vocal. She is also beginning to roughhouse her teddy bears. Tanya strides over to her.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with her today. she usually has a nap around now, but today she’s not having any of it.”

  “Is she teething?” I ask.

  Immediately, I regret the question. I am supposed to be childless, and seven years younger than my real age of thirty-five. I am not supposed to know of such things. But Tanya doesn’t seem to notice this potential inconsistency with my character.

  “Yes, she is.”

  As soon as Mum speaks, so Bella tries to insert the teddy’s face into her mouth. It’s already crowded in there, given the fact she is sucking on a dummy, and she is unsuccessful in her mission.

  “Maybe you have something there,” Tanya says, scooping her up in her arms. “Maybe I should keep on top of the kiddie bonjela.”

  I watch them, heart aching, as Tanya makes her way back over to me. Unable to stop myself, I gently stroke Bella’s plump cheek.

  “Beautiful Bella.” Then, before I can stop myself, I find myself asking the question that I know I really shouldn’t ask. “Can I hold her?”

  “Sure.”

  Bella is parcelled over to me and my heart leaps in joy at the wonderful, solid feel of her in my arms. She clings to me like a little monkey, chattering nonsense and making little squelching noises on her dummy, occasionally pulling it out of her mouth to speak, putting me in mind of an old man holding a cigar. She is so alive, so vital, and a lump forms in my throat.

  No. I will not cry in front of Tanya. I close my eyes for a second, pressing my nose to her silky hair, breathing in her powdery scent of milk and lavender.

  What am I doing? I think. Why am I here?

  When I open my eyes again, Tanya is definitely looking at me strangely.

  Be careful, a voice screams in my mind. You’re acting strange. Don’t let your guard down.

  “I’m going to try and put her down for her nap,” Tanya says, gently shoehorning her out of my arms. “Thank you so much for the work you’ve done, Anne, I was lucky to find you.”

  And, just like that, I realise that I have been dismissed. There is a cold empty space in my arms, a chilly lightness against my chest where Bella has just been. I feel bereft. Bereft and confused.

  I think it is time for me to make my exit.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  When I arrive at nine a.m. the following morning at Tanya’s and Luke’s, I am both horrified and elated to discover that Luke is home. On trembling legs, I follow Tanya down the long hallway into the kitchen.

  “My husband is keen to meet you,” she says with a smile when we reach the kitchen door.

  My heart is in my mouth when I see him there, sitting at the kitchen table, a mug of steaming black coffee before him and The Times held out in front of him, as big as an ordnance survey map.

  He is dressed in blue jeans and a crisp, white shirt, as opposed to his customary suit. He gets to his feet when I enter the room, and my heart is pounding so hard it is making me dizzy. I fear that my trembling legs will not be up to the task of keeping me upright.

  “Hello,” he says with a broad smile. “You must be Anne Golby.”

  He doesn’t recognise me, is my first thought when we meet in the middle of the kitchen and shake hands.

  My small hand is swamped in his, and I gaze up into his sparkling brown eyes. I am in mental and physical turmoil.

  And then I see it. Only for a split-second, but I see it. I see that glimmer of recognition.

  “And you must be Luke Crawford.”

  “Indeed I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Anne. My wife has been singing your praises all week.”

  “Oh, I’m only doing my job.”

  “No doubt. But you do it very well.”

  There is a look in his eyes which I don’t much care for, his smile cold. The skin of my hand prickles where he has been touching me, and all-too-vividly, graphic imagery of our aggressive sex sessions slam into my mind.

  Tanya comes up to us, all smiles, lovingly touching her husband on his upper arm. I notice how, even in flats, she is a hair-width’s taller than him. I would look much better on his arm, I decide, as I am so much shorter.

  “I’ll just take Bella upstairs and get her ready for our walk,” she says, before turning to leave the room. If she has noticed any tension between us, she shows no sign.

  Bella is in the living-room – I know this because I glimpsed her in there on the rug as I passed the door on the way to the kitchen.

  “Sure thing, sweetheart,” Luke replies, like he doesn’t have a care in the world, and I am nobody of either interest or importance standing before him.

  “Who the hell are you and what do you want from me?” he asks in a dangerously low voice as soon as Tanya is out of earshot.

  The adrenalin is now coursing through my veins – I am awash with it, ready for fight or flight.

  “Why didn’t you call me Luke? I thought we were good together. I thought we had something special.”

  He lets out a harsh bark of laughter, but there is no warmth in the sound.

  “What is this? Some kind of Fatal Attraction thing? Sorry, but I don’t have a rabbit that you can boil. You were just a bit of fun, Alice. Or Anne. Or whoever the hell you are.”

  “This isn’t about you, Luke. As hard as that may be for you to believe.”

  I lick my dry lips. My heart is pounding.

  “What do you want?” His voice is as hard as steel.

  “And that, Luke, is the million-dollar question.”

  My voice is equally as cold as his, but inside, I am a wreck. A wave of sadness crashes over me. It didn’t have to be this way. If he had fallen for me, if he had left her for me, then things would not have to play out this ugly way.

  He glares at me expectantly.

  “I want revenge, Luke.”

  “Revenge? On whom? And why? Who are you?” he asks again.

  “I want seventy grand in cash, or I’ll show Tanya the video of us.”

  I experience a vicious stab of satisfaction on seeing his expression. I don’t think that I have ever seen anyone look so startled.

  “What video?”

  I can feel the corner of my mouth lifting in a cruel smirk. “Don’t worry, I’ll send it to your phone the second that you walk out of the door with your darling wife.”

  “Just tell me your real name.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Why should you? Are you serious? If I am to give you seventy thousand, the least you can do is give me the courtesy of telling me your real name.”

  I hesitate. He has a point. In a heartbeat, I decide that there is no harm in telling him.

  “It’s Daisy. Daisy Montgomery.”

  If my name means anything to him, he doesn’t let on. I wonder if his bitch of a wife even told him about her affair with my husband, and the subsequent destruction that it wrought.

  Ever so slightly, he nods his head.

  “Expect me at some point Monday night. I’ll come to yours with the money. Do not send that video to my wife.”

  Without another word, he turns away from me and strides into the hallway to find his wife and daughter.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  True to his word, my doorbell sounds late Monday evening. I have spent the weekend – and this morning cleaning his and his hateful wife’s house – in gut-wrenching turmoil.

  I thought that this final act of blackmail, of cold-blooded revenge would be cathartic. I thought that it would make me feel good. But it doesn’t. I feel like death warmed over.

  “You came,” I say flatly when I open the internal door to him, after I
have buzzed him into the hallway that I share with the near-invisible, young couple on the ground floor.

  He is wearing black jeans and a black hoodie, with the hood pulled down over his eyes. He is carrying a smart leather briefcase. It looks like the same one he always takes to work with him. Not that I trail him anymore, so I guess that I wouldn’t know what he takes to work with him nowadays.

  “Of course I came. I want you out of my life, Daisy.”

  I nod. “Fair enough.” I step to one side to allow him to pass into my apartment, shutting the door and turning the key once we are inside. “Did you bring the money?”

  He holds up the suitcase by way of an answer, looking at me like I am stupid.

  Again, I nod.

  “That was sure some film you made of us.” He walks over towards my blocky, grey sofa like he owns the place.

  “I’m glad you liked it,” I quip.

  True to my word, I had sent him our little sex tape that Friday morning. I only wish that I had seen his face when he had opened it. I wonder if Tanya was around him when he had watched it. I hope that she was. I hope she asked him what he was doing so that he was cringing in horror and shame.

  Only now that he is sitting on my sofa, do I notice that he is wearing a pair of black, leather gloves. For some reason, the sight of them sends a chill down my spine.

  He sees me eyeing them, and smirks.

  “Can I see the money?” I ask.

  “Yes, you can. After you give me your laptop and phone, and any other electronic devices you may have lying around.”

  “I’m not giving you that,” I protest.

  “I’m pretty sure that seventy grand is enough money for you to buy a new laptop.”

  “I’ll just delete the video. You don’t have to take my stuff.”

  He shakes his head. “Sorry, no can do. How can I trust you? I need to be sure that the video never gets out, and the only way I can be sure of such a thing is if I destroy the hard drive myself. So therefore you need to hand over your laptop and phone.”