Silent Victim(53)

A rustling noise ensued as Theresa poked her head in the fridge. ‘Here,’ she said, taking a tuna sandwich from its wrapper and laying it before me. ‘Eat.’

I narrowed my eyes as I came to my senses. ‘You know who did this, don’t you? Luke. He’s the one responsible.’

‘That’s not possible,’ Theresa said, shaking her head. ‘We lock up every night. I’ve checked. There’s no sign of a break-in.’ She shoved the sandwich towards me. ‘I checked the dress when it came back from the seamstress yesterday. It was perfect.’

I frowned. The look on Theresa’s face made me wonder. ‘You don’t think it was me, do you?’ I forced myself to take a bite of the sandwich, knowing she wouldn’t respond until I ate.

‘No,’ she said, a smile rising to her lips as she watched me eat. ‘At least . . . not knowingly. You’ve been under a lot of pressure lately. I’m just scared that it’s getting to you.’ She touched my hand. ‘This thing with Luke. I’m on your side.’

I paused mid-chew. ‘What’s me being stressed got to do with the dress being slashed?’ My eyes flitted towards the door. ‘And why are you here with me when there’s nobody in the shop?’

‘I’ve closed for lunch. Look . . .’ she said, pursing her lips. ‘I’m just saying . . . you don’t have to prove anything to me.’

I swallowed, feeling my strength return. I stared at my sister as I got to grips with her words. ‘You think I damaged the dress then blamed it on Luke so you’d believe me? Why would I do that? You know what a big mouth Victoria has. This is going to ruin our reputation.’

Theresa snorted. ‘Nobody pays any attention to her. Besides, I sorted it.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Don’t try to placate me. It’s awful what happened. If it was me getting married and my dress was in shreds, I’d go mad.’

‘No, honestly, I sorted it. I told her I have CCTV of her assaulting you. She’s lucky I didn’t call the police. I think that’s enough to make it go away.’

‘But we haven’t got CCTV,’ I said, for once wishing that we had. ‘That camera in the corner is fake.’

Theresa gave me a wry smile. ‘I know that and you know that, but she doesn’t know that, and that’s the way it going to stay. Trust me, we can sweep this all under the carpet. Thank God the backup dress fitted her. Bridezilla will have her perfect day after all.’

‘Even though I sabotaged the dress to begin with? You don’t really believe that, do you?’

Theresa nodded towards the sandwich, and I took another bite. This was the way it had always been. Trading off information for food. She had encouraged me to eat in whatever way she could.

She shook her head. ‘Of course not. It was a silly thing to say. But what is worrying me is your inability to cope with it. You’ve had far worse things than this come your way. You should have fought back, pushed the silly woman away.’ She toyed with her silver necklace, a sure sign she was uncomfortable with what she was about to say. ‘I just think that you should consider getting counselling. Alex . . . he spoke to me this morning. He knows you’re not eating. He’s worried about you. We both are.’

I opened my mouth to speak, but Theresa raised her hand.

‘We weren’t going behind your back. Please. Don’t tell him I told you. I’m just trying to help the pair of you.’

I took a sip of water, dismissing the judgemental voices swirling around my head. There was no point in airing my suspicions about Luke. It was safer to tell her what she wanted to hear. ‘Maybe he’s right,’ I said. ‘Sometimes I feel like the whole world is against me.’

Theresa gave me a gentle smile. ‘Don’t be daft, it’ll all be OK. Now, how about I make us both a nice cup of tea? I’ve got some chocolate biscuits hidden in the cupboard.’

Food was the last thing I needed, but I found myself nodding just the same.





CHAPTER FIFTY

ALEX





2017


I stared at the envelope, bile rising in my throat. The feeling of helplessness washed over me. It was the same alien emotion I’d encountered when the doctors had told me my chances of fathering a child were slim to none. Just like my infertility, this situation was out of my control. I had given my work address to the company who carried out the DNA results as there was no way I could risk Emma finding out what I had done. Having excused myself from the office, I stood outside in the dying sunlight, turning the envelope over in my fingers. The car park was reasonably quiet and, although this was not how I had pictured finding out, I could not wait until I went home.

I thought of Jamie’s birth, the fierce pride that had burned in my chest at the sight of my son. Now I was reduced to this, holding on to a secret too awful to share. It was I who’d told Emma to sleep while I took over the night feeds. I who had comforted Jamie during teething when his red swollen gums caused him pain. I who taught him how to feed himself, raised out my hands beside Emma as he took his first step. Dada was the first word he had spoken. I tightened my jaw, determined to remain in control. If it came to it, I thought I would be able to get over the fact that I was not blood related, but Emma’s deception would cut a much deeper groove into my soul. I turned the envelope over as I tried to gather enough courage to read the results inside. Wouldn’t it be easier to tear the damn thing up and forget that it ever came? We could move to Leeds, start again and carry on believing that Jamie was mine. Did I need to know if Emma had lied to me about her relationship with Luke? It was all in the past . . . wasn’t it? I leaned against the cold concrete wall, wondering if that was the case. How could it be in the past as long as Luke was living in York? Regardless of what he’d said, I could be placing Emma in danger. That’s if she was telling the truth. I wanted to believe her but, every day, evidence was mounting against her, leaving me in fear of what she might do next. After all that had happened, was she capable of looking after our son? Our son. My grip on the envelope tightened as the wind threatened to whisk it away.