The Woman Next Door(85)

But what is the point in complaining?

I had nothing to live for out there. Bertie, maybe. But no one loved me or wanted me to be in their life. No one needed me.

Well. Plenty of people need me here.

It’s funny, the things you find out about yourself, isn’t it, in extreme situations? Sandra won’t be going anywhere for many years either and this thought fills me with a quiet pleasure.

She won’t be able to leave me, like others have done.

We can be together for ever, if I want it.

And sometimes, late at night, if I feel frightened or lonely, I picture myself telling the police everything about Jamie. Why not? I have nothing to lose. It wouldn’t take long for them to look in Melissa’s kitchen and find what they were looking for. But what would be the point? I think it is best that we put all that behind us. Anyway, she has Bertie.

I hear a sharp rap on my door and look up.

Sandra stands there, holding up a battered copy of Emma with a smile. She has been reading it to me. I’m not sure I understand it, but I find her voice very soothing.

My heart floods with a sense of peace.

I can put up with the discomforts of being here.

It really isn’t so bad at all.