The Other Woman(98)

‘I really don’t have time for this,’ I said. ‘This is my daughter’s christening and I have a room full of people, more deserving than you, whom I’d like to talk to and be with. I’m not going to stand here and waste my time on you.’

I tried not to look at her as I said it because her appearance was throwing me off track, making me feel guilty.

‘I understand that,’ she said. ‘And I don’t blame you, but I just want you to know that I’m truly sorry. I never meant to do what I did to you, and I know that you’ll never forgive me, but I haven’t got much longer, and I wanted to at least try and make amends before it’s too late. Please.’

She reached a hand out to me, and I backed away, but she kept coming forward, falling towards me.

There was a split-second hush all around us, and then a sudden rush to catch her before she fell to the floor. If anyone had caught it on a slow-motion camera, they would have seen me, walking backwards, with my arms up in the air. I was the only one who could possibly have cushioned the blow, yet whilst everyone was moving forward in vain, I was moving away.

There was a collective gasp as she hit the unforgiving wooden floor.

‘Mum!’ called out James. ‘Pammie!’ cried everyone else.

‘What the . . .’ shouted Adam, as he ran forwards and fell to his knees. ‘What the hell happened?’ He turned to look at me for an answer, but I just shrugged. ‘Why would I think to ask you?’

I could hear a sharp intake of breath from the crowd that had now gathered.

‘That’s enough,’ said James. ‘Mum . . .’

‘I’m okay,’ she managed, as she was helped up to a sitting position. ‘I just lost my footing. I’m okay.’

She’d done it again.

I weaved away through the throng, trying to find Poppy, who I’d last seen with Mum. ‘I want to go,’ I said as I reached her.

‘What on earth’s going on?’ she asked. ‘She couldn’t fake this, surely?’

I shook my head. I didn’t know what to think anymore.

‘Can you and Dad take me home?’ I asked.

Dad looked at his watch. ‘It’s getting late anyway,’ he said, as if he needed an excuse. ‘I’ll bring the car round.’

I gathered up the presents that had been brought for Poppy, and said discreet goodbyes to Pippa and my Auntie Bet. They were the only people still there whom I cared about; the rest consisted of Adam’s rugby crowd and a few of his work colleagues. None of whom would even be aware that I’d been there, let alone gone.

‘You okay?’ said Pippa, as I hurriedly rounded things up. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

I shook my head. ‘I just want to go home and put my pyjamas on,’ I said honestly.

She smiled. ‘I know the feeling. I’ll give you a call in the morning.’

I gave her a kiss and ducked out the door.

Mum insisted on coming into the flat with me, to get me settled. ‘I’m twenty-seven,’ I half laughed.

‘You’re never too old for your mum to care about you,’ she said. ‘You sure you’re going to be okay?’

I nodded. ‘I can’t see Adam being much longer. The bar will be shut in an hour or so.’

‘Whatever’s going on, please don’t let it get to you,’ she said, kissing me on the forehead. ‘You’re doing a great job, and we’re very proud of you.’ I had tears in my eyes as I gave her a hug and begrudgingly waved them off.





46

I must have fallen asleep on the sofa, as the next thing I remember was the banging on the front door. For a moment, I was totally disorientated and thought I was still dreaming. I could hear the distant ping of a text on my phone, but I had no concept of time or even what day it was. I didn’t know what I should respond to first, but then I remembered Poppy. Was it time to get her up? Had I even fed her before putting her down?

I stood up too quickly and instantly fell back down again, light-headed and dizzy. I put both hands against the sides of my head, willing it to put the jigsaw pieces together quicker than it seemed to be doing. The banging from downstairs was still going, the text messages still demanding to be read. I peered into Poppy’s room and saw that she was sleeping soundly. Tick. It was just after midnight. Tick. Adam wasn’t home yet. Tick . . . where the hell was he? I’d left him three hours ago. I fumbled for my phone under the cushions of the settee and struggled to focus on the missives that filled the screen. I scrolled down the missed calls, voicemails, and texts. Pammie, Adam, James, Pammie, Adam, James.

‘Jesus,’ I said aloud, wondering what the hell had happened.

Confused, with phone in hand, I headed for the door. I’d just reached the bottom step when it rang again, displaying Pammie’s name across the screen. I was going to ignore it, but then I thought it might be somebody else using her phone. There was obviously something amiss. I just prayed nothing had happened to Adam.

‘Yes,’ I snapped.

‘Emily. It’s me, Pammie. Adam’s on his way to you. Don’t let him in.’

‘What?’ I gasped.

‘Don’t let him in. He’s really mad. He knows, Emily. I’m so sorry. Don’t let him in.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’