What Lies Between Us(31)

Tonight, Nina’s darkness has made its presence felt once again. And I was the one who drove her to it. And again, I cannot blame her; I can only blame myself. I wasn’t thinking when I kicked her in the face. I panicked – it was a case of fight or flight, and I chose both. And it was the worst thing I could’ve done.

I close my door and lie back on the bed, but I can’t stand it for long because my head hurts so much. Instead, I curl up on my side and into a tight, impenetrable ball. I try to gather myself, taking deep, calming breaths and wrapping my arms around my body to stop it from shaking. Neither works. Just get through dinner, I tell myself. Just get through dinner with her and everything will go back to the way it was.

I only wish I could believe that to be true.





CHAPTER 24





NINA


I leave Maggie in her bedroom and make my way down the stairs, trying to convince myself that tonight’s events are par for the course and that we have lived through this situation many times before.

But even I know that my reaction was extreme.

For a minute there, I lost it. I actually lost all control of myself and I don’t know how it happened. It was more than just anger or blind rage. It was something much, much darker. And I’m frightened. She dredged up something from deep inside of me that I never want to experience again.

I lock the landing door behind me and make my way down the second set of stairs, using the bannisters to support myself. My hands, my arms, my back . . . my whole body feels weak. What happened up there?

I enter the kitchen, trying to piece it all together. I know I had every right to be furious at Maggie. Whether lashing out at me was premeditated or not, she crossed the line. More than two years after she woke up to find herself in there, it appears I’m no closer to making her understand that the time she took away from me must be repaid. There are no two ways about it. She owes me another nineteen years.

I’ve always managed to maintain a tight rein over my emotions, even when Maggie has pushed me to the brink. Not once have I ever lost it like I did tonight. I’m covered in goosebumps as I replay the moment I held that bottle of bleach above her head, fighting the voice inside me telling me to squeeze hard and burn her. It was as if someone else had crept inside me and was pulling my strings.

I lean over the kitchen sink, turn the tap on and throw some cold water over my face, then pat it dry with a tea towel. I rinse my mouth out with water and wince at the sharp pain of the damaged tooth. I’m supposed to be making dinner; instead, I’m now replaying what I thought I saw in the bathroom. The blood in the bath, the red-stained towels on the floor . . . it’s all so vivid.

I cannot stop picturing Maggie’s terrified face and fight the urge to check on her well-being. Through all of our battles and skirmishes, this is the first time I’ve felt something akin to guilt. It’s also the first time in years I’ve thought of her as my mum and not as Maggie. Something in my head has shifted and I don’t know how to push it back into place.

I am supposed to be seeing the one who centres me tonight, but as much as it pains me to cancel, I reach for my phone and text him my apologies. Once a fortnight we meet for dinner, drinks or days out; although he has postponed a couple of times recently, which has concerned me. I have never pulled out of our get-togethers, but I am in no fit state to see anyone. I can’t explain the bruise and lump that’s already rising on my cheek. He’s too perceptive to believe I simply fell over. Besides, my broken tooth must have exposed nerve endings because it’s absolutely killing me. I take some cotton wool from the first-floor bathroom to use as padding and I bite down upon it to stem the bleeding.

I smell burning from downstairs and remember I’ve left the chilli too long in the pan. By the time I reach the kitchen, it’s hard around the edges. The water in the rice has boiled away and some of it is black. I can’t be bothered to start anything new now.

I take another look at my reflection in the glass and struggle to recognise myself. How did I become this woman?





CHAPTER 25





MAGGIE


When I hear Nina’s footsteps coming back up the stairs to get me for dinner, I recoil. I hurry into the corner of the bedroom, picking up the bedside lamp before positioning myself. If she is returning for round two, I am not going out without a fight, no matter how much this chain restricts my movements.

When she reaches my closed door, I hear the clatter on the tray as she places it upon the floor. I wait until I hear her head back downstairs before I let out a breath. I’m glad she changed her mind about making us eat together; I’d rather have no company at all than be at the mercy of her fury again.

I wait a few moments until I hear the downstairs door lock before I open mine and see what she has left me. There are three home-made turkey sandwiches, a bowl of crisps, two apples, a packet of Mr Kipling cakes and a single-serving plastic bottle of red wine. It’s the first time she’s given me alcohol. Is this her way of apologising? Does she know she went too far and perhaps even frightened herself?

Nevertheless, I remain on my guard and barely get a wink of sleep. I’m too afraid to take a sleeping tablet and become a sitting duck if Nina is ready to go into battle again. It’s happened in the past – we have argued, she has stormed out, and then much later that evening, she has appeared over my bed, hurling abuse at me after continuing the dispute in her head.