by Ruth Heald
‘He loves her. He’d never hurt her.’
‘How do you know that?’
The tears are running down my cheeks now.
‘I just know,’ I say, but I’m not so sure of my own words any more. I didn’t marry the man I thought I did. I don’t know my husband at all.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I need to get my daughter away from him.
‘Do you have anywhere to go? Family? Friends?’
‘No.’ I realise how stark my situation is. I have no friends left. I don’t even have a bank account in my own name. He has completely cut me off.
‘Anyone you could stay with? Someone you could confide in?’
I don’t know what to say. She’s the only one I can talk to about this. The only person I trust. I have to be honest. I need her help.
‘I don’t have anyone.’
She pauses for a second. ‘You could stay with me. If you’re desperate. You could come and stay with me.’
Twenty-Six
I read the single typed sentence again and again, until the letters start to blur into each other.
You don’t deserve Olivia.
I start to feel faint and I sit down on the stairs, staring at the stark black type, my baby in my arms.
You don’t deserve Olivia.
Whoever wrote the note can see right through me. I know I’m not a good mother. I know I don’t deserve her. The words echo in my head.
You don’t deserve Olivia.
I hug my daughter closer to me, tears of regret welling up. I must do better. But I’m so scared, scared I’m just not good enough.
Someone knows I don’t deserve my daughter. Someone hid the smoke alarm so that if there’s a fire then Olivia and I wouldn’t stand a chance. What do they want from me? And what will they do next? They must be in my house, creeping around when I’m not there.
Ruth. It must be Ruth. She’s trying to convince me I’m going mad, so Matt gets custody of Olivia. She said the other day that I’d never get custody with all my issues, and now she’s making sure it’s true.
I must get away from her. I can’t stay in the cottage. I don’t feel safe here.
Picking up my phone from beside me on the staircase, I call Emma. She’d said that Olivia and I could move in with her for a while.
At first, I didn’t want to take her up on it. I didn’t want Ruth to force me out of the house.
But now things have changed.
My heart is still pounding and I can’t catch my breath, as I listen to the phone ringing and ringing. I wish she’d pick up. I want to leave as soon as possible. Tonight if I can. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep another night in this house.
‘It will be OK,’ I whisper to Olivia. ‘We’ll move in with Emma and Lizzie. We’ll be safe there.’
The phone clicks onto answerphone.
I hang up and immediately redial. I think about what I’ll need to take with me. Clothes. Toiletries. Nappies. Wipes. How long would I be staying with Emma? A week? Two? Longer?
If I get offered a job at the newspaper, then I can move back to London eventually, but it will take me a while to find a place to live. And going to London would be admitting it really is over between me and Matt. I know I still love him, I still feel the longing in my chest when I think of him. But there’s no way we can get back together after what he’s done.
Whatever happens with the job, I’ll have to be in the village a little while longer. I imagine living with Emma in her flat. It will be warm and cosy, not cold and draughty like the cottage. We can cook dinner together, and Olivia and Lizzie can play together. I won’t be lonely. I’ll be safe there. Able to relax.
Emma still hasn’t picked up her phone. I leave a breathless message on her voicemail, explaining that I need to take her up on her offer, asking if I can move in tonight. My voice breaks as I say the words. I hate asking for help, but I know I need it. Besides, Emma will understand.
I feel better once I’ve left the message. I have a plan to get out of here.
Miriam has suggested we meet in an art gallery café in central Oxford. I’m the first to arrive. It’s half term and I push the buggy around a group of screaming children running back and forth between the tables, knocking over menus. Their harassed mothers sip coffees as they watch, occasionally making half-hearted attempts to tell them off.
‘You’ve got all this to look forward to,’ one of them says to me, glancing at Olivia in the buggy. ‘You’re at the easy stage now.’ My heart sinks. I can’t bear the thought that this could get harder.
I find a table in the corner at the back and check my phone. I’m still half expecting to see a cancellation text. After all these years and everything that happened between us, I can’t believe Miriam wants to meet up.
I see her come in the double doors to the café. I feel sick with nerves, and for a moment I consider bolting from the café before she sees me.
She’s the same as ever. Small and petite and projecting that air of being completely in control. She’s had a third child since I last saw her, but she doesn’t look any older. The same neat brown bob, the same slim build.
I swallow again. I’m not sure if I can face her after all.
I see her scanning the room and I manage to lift my hand in a little wave. I smile uncertainly. Her eyes meet mine and she half-smiles back. I wonder what she sees when she sees me. Rounder at the waist. Scruffy jeans. No make-up. I’m a world away from the woman she used to know.
She reaches the table and I stand. I’m about to reach out and hug her, but I sense she won’t respond. Instead she turns to Oliva. ‘She’s beautiful,’ she says.
‘Thanks. How are your children? You’ve got three now, haven’t you?’
She nods. ‘They’re fine. They’re at school and nursery.’
‘Oh,’ I reply, taken aback by how abrupt she is. I used to be close to her two older boys, babysitting for her and dropping round presents. I don’t know what to say. I blink back disappointment. A part of me imagined we’d instantly connect again as soon as we saw each other.
‘Coffee?’ Miriam asks, glancing behind her at the snaking queue to the counter. ‘Or wine?’ She seems eager to get away from me again.
‘Coffee please,’ I reply, quickly. One glass of wine will lead to another, just like the old days. I can’t let that happen. I’m driving Olivia back.
I sit back down, tapping my fingers against the table anxiously.
When she returns with the coffees and sits down, we look at each other for a moment, unsure what to say.
‘It’s been a long time,’ I venture.
She contemplates her coffee. ‘Let’s not talk about the past now. I’ve missed you, Claire.’
‘I’ve missed you too.’ Everything that’s unsaid hangs between us.
We catch up and I give Miriam a rose-tinted version of the last three years of my life. The cottage in the country, close family nearby, my precious daughter. I don’t mention the breakdown I had around the time our friendship ended, or the fact I’ve split up with Matt, or my postnatal depression.
‘What’s been happening in your life?’ I ask Miriam.
I’m surprised to see tears pricking her eyes. ‘I’m getting divorced,’ she says.
Instinctively I reach across the table and touch her arm. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘When you texted I’d just signed the papers. And I remembered the old days, how close we were. You were the only person I wanted to talk to.’
And then the tension between us eases and we’re talking like old times. Miriam tells me about her husband’s affair with a younger woman and I find myself telling her all about Matt and Sarah. And my mother-in law. It’s a relief to have someone to confide in. When I look at my watch, two hours have passed in a flash.
‘Do you fancy getting something to eat?’ I ask.
We each choose an overpriced cake and Miriam suggests a glass of wine once more.
It takes all my willpower to say no. ‘I stopped
drinking,’ I explain, and although it’s technically true, I feel guilty. I did stop, but recently I’ve started again.
‘Good for you,’ Miriam says.
I bite into my stale cake, while she tells me more of the intricacies of her divorce. Custody. Finances. I might have to go through all of that with Matt. I’m not sure how I’ll cope.
She seems to feel better when she’s got it all off her chest, and I wonder if I trust her enough to tell her about the smoke alarm in the loft and the note through the door. She might just think I’m going mad. But I need to confide in someone, and I’m running out of people I can trust.
When I finish explaining, I see the concern in Miriam’s eyes.
‘This is serious,’ she says. ‘Someone’s threatening you. You should tell the police.’
‘I don’t think they’ll believe me.’
‘Why not?’
I try to explain. Sometimes I’m not sure if I even believe myself. My brain is in such a fog with the sleepless nights and endless childcare, that facts and fiction seem to merge and I’m not sure what’s in my head and what’s real.
‘Matt never believed me about anything,’ I say. ‘Even when we first moved and his mother was coming into the house and moving my things around.’
‘Why wouldn’t he believe you?’ She seems genuinely confused and I realise she never knew what happened after our friendship ended. How I’d fallen apart.
I look down at the table, embarrassed. ‘Well, because I went a bit off the rails before. Three years ago. After everything that happened.’ I know I’m minimising, but I can’t bear to tell her the whole truth about my breakdown.
‘I didn’t realise…’ she says, surprised.
‘I tried to contact you.’
‘I didn’t want to speak to you. I couldn’t forgive you.’
‘I know. It’s OK. The things that happened… they’re the reason why I went off the rails. And I still feel awful about it.’ I flush, the familiar shame rising through my body to my face. ‘I’m so sorry.’ But I know those words can never be enough. Not after what I did.
* * *
We stay at the café another hour, but the conversation is stilted and we can’t get the connection back. We’re both aware of the huge crack that underpins our whole relationship. The atmosphere has turned and everything about our friendship is starting to feel fragile once more.
‘I need to go in a minute,’ Miriam says. ‘Got to pick the kids up.’
I nod. I was hoping that this meeting would be the renewal of our friendship, a fresh start, but now it feels more like the end, a permanent goodbye. And yet neither of us seem to really want to leave, to abandon the hope of the rekindling the friendship we once had.
‘Have you got somewhere to go?’ Miriam asks. ‘If the worst comes to the worst and you and Olivia have to move out, to get away from your mother-in-law, do you have someone to take you in?’
I remember years ago, when Miriam slept on my sofa for a month after splitting up with an ex.
I nod. ‘Yes, I’ve got a friend I can move in with. She’s local.’ I glance at my phone. Emma still hasn’t called me back.
‘I’m glad,’ Miriam says, reaching over to touch my hand. ‘Take care of yourself.’
‘You too,’ I say, feeling the door of our friendship starting to close on me.
‘If you ever need anything, then you can always call,’ she says.
I don’t think she really means it and I think I might cry. I don’t want things to end this way.
‘There is something actually,’ I say. ‘That you could help with.’
I tell her about Sarah’s sister’s accident, how both Matt and Sarah were there when it happened and how I can’t shake off the feeling that they’re hiding something about it from me.
‘Do you think it’s suspicious?’ I ask.
‘I don’t know, Claire,’ she says. ‘But it’s in the past, isn’t it? There are lots of things in the past we’d rather put behind us.’ She looks at me pointedly.
‘You couldn’t have a look into it, could you? See if there’s a police file? I mean, I know it’s historic but…’
Miriam rises suddenly from the table and I see she’s lost patience. I’ve made things worse.
Her eyes flash with anger. ‘I can’t do that for you, Claire. How can you ask me that, after everything that happened last time?’
* * *
When I get home I feel deflated. I try to pull myself out of it, packing a few toiletries in a bag to get ready to move in with Emma. She still hasn’t called me back but I might as well be prepared. Olivia is still napping in her car seat in the hallway and I should make the most of the chance to get my things ready. I tell myself everything will be OK once I get to Emma’s. Once I’ve put a bit of distance between me and Ruth, I’ll feel so much better. I’ll be able to think straight.
My phone buzzes and I rush over to pick it up. Emma.
‘Hi,’ I say. ‘Did you get my message?’
She’s quiet for a moment before she replies. ‘Yeah I did.’
‘I’ve started packing my bag and I should be all ready to come over soon. Would that be OK? If I came over tonight?’
‘Claire – listen – I’m really sorry but I don’t think it’s going to work.’
I’m shocked into silence.
‘When I offered I didn’t think it through. We’ve got building work starting soon. It was arranged by the landlord. It starts in a few days’ time. New kitchen. New bathroom. Nothing will be in use. I’m thinking of moving out myself for a few days. I’m sorry, I just didn’t think when I said you could stay.’
I feel rising panic as I stare around the cottage I’m so desperate to leave. ‘It’s OK,’ I say, but I’m close to tears.
‘Honestly, Claire. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do? Lizzie and I could come round if you like? Tomorrow or even tonight?’
‘Umm…’ I don’t want to sound needy, but the truth is I do need someone. I need someone on my side, someone to look out for me. ‘I’ll be OK,’ I say. ‘I’m hoping to move out soon anyway. If I get an offer from the newspaper in London, I’ll move back there.’
‘Yes,’ Emma replies. ‘And you really shouldn’t let Ruth force you out of your home like this. You’ve every right to stay put.’
‘Sure,’ I say, although I don’t know if I can bear to sleep in the house another night. I know I’ll lie awake, thoughts racing.
‘Listen, I know what will help you relax. I’ll come round tomorrow and give you a massage. I did a course in Thailand years ago, and I’d love to practise. It will really help. How does that sound?’
‘Great,’ I say. ‘That sounds great.’
‘OK. I’ll be round tomorrow at ten.’
‘See you then.’
She hangs up the phone and I slump down onto the sofa, disappointed. I look at my half-packed holdall and feel the tears start to well up.
I go to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of wine. Just one can’t hurt. I take the bottle into the living room and collapse back onto the sofa.
This isn’t Emma’s fault. It’s Ruth’s. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the note all the way home. Pulling it out of my bag, I turn it over in my hands.
You don’t deserve Olivia.
I feel light-headed, like the words aren’t real. I take a gulp of my wine.
I think about what Miriam said. This is serious. I could take this to the police if I wanted to. Ruth needs to understand that she can’t do this to me.
Since we moved here, she’s been working on breaking me down. Coming into the house. Taking forever to clear out her mother’s things. Making constant snide digs. And now she’s talking about Matt getting custody of Olivia. She’s trying to threaten me. She wants me gone.
I need to sort this out.
I fetch Olivia’s chair and carry it through to the kitchen. I put it by the door, and strap her in. It will be in full view from the back door of Ruth and Jack’s
house.
Slipping my shoes on, I open the kitchen door before I can change my mind. The cold air hits me as I rush down the path, tripping on the uneven paving slabs. I feel giddy and sick. I see the empty pond and remember the flash of fear as the buggy careered over the edge. My baby dragged out of the water, choking on pondweed, before Matt pulled it from her mouth and she came screaming back to life.
By the time I reach Ruth’s back door, I’m both shivering from the cold and flushed from running, adrenalin coursing through my veins.
I bang on the glass pane of the back door, so hard I can feel my knuckles bruising.
Ruth opens it a crack and I barge past her into the kitchen. She glowers at the trail of mud that follows me.
‘Matt,’ Ruth yells. ‘Matt! Your wife’s here.’
‘It’s you I came to see, actually. Why did you put that note through my door?’
She stares at me blankly as she removes her washing up gloves. ‘You don’t seem yourself, Claire.’
‘I just want to know why you wrote that note. What’s the point?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I think you do.’
‘You realise that I really don’t need to talk to you any more, now you’re separated from my son.’ Her voice is calm, as if she’s a reasonable human being.
‘You think you can get rid of me that easily? You can send me a threatening note, and I’ll be gone?’
‘It’s my house. And I haven’t sent you any notes. In fact, I think I’ve treated you very well, inviting you into my family and my home.’
I wave the piece of paper at her. ‘You don’t recognise this then?’
She looks blank and it crosses my mind that I might be wrong. I redden, suddenly unsure of myself. I shouldn’t have come.
Matt appears behind her. ‘Claire. Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine. It’s your mother that’s not OK. She’s wants me out of your lives, she’s pushing me out.’
