What Lies Between Us(40)

She wants to look out of her window and wipes some of the temporary paint that’s obstructing her view. I think how terribly alone she must feel, incarcerated and with nobody knowing how much she is hurting. I want her to know I am here and that I care.

An idea comes to me.

I grab the bedside lamp and drag the cable towards me, then start flashing the lamp on and off, over and over again in rapid succession, in the faint hope that it will catch her attention. I have tried this many times before but nobody has ever noticed, not even Elsie and especially not in daylight. I think it must be the positioning of the slats that won’t allow light to be seen below from certain angles. ‘Come on, come on,’ I repeat anxiously before I hear a noise that takes the wind from my sails. It’s a ping. The bulb has blown.

‘No, no, no, no!’ I yell. Without thinking, I put my hand on the bulb to turn it in case it has only come loose. It burns my fingertips and I curse. I move swiftly to grab the other bedside lamp, but it won’t stretch as far as the window. I unplug it but the cable is caught behind the cabinet. I pull the furniture away with a tug but lose my balance and my foot becomes entwined with my chain, causing me to fall face first on to the bed.

I climb to my feet and plug the lamp into the second socket and start again. A good fifteen minutes pass before finally, the child turns to look in my direction, squashing her face up against the glass. Even if she can’t see my face behind the shutters, she knows someone is up here. Then she places the palm of her hand to the window as if to say hello.

I am overcome with emotion. Aside from Nina, this is the first interaction I have had with anyone for two long years. Finally somebody outside of this house knows that I exist! I struggle to stem my tears. I don’t want it to end.

The girl’s hand moves from left to right, like she is waving at me. She disappears out of sight for a moment and her room goes a little darker. I squint until she switches her light on and off and then returns to the window and I do the same with the lamp. Now I am practically bawling.

But our interaction is cut short by her mother appearing at the door; she catches her daughter playing with the lights. She grabs her by the arm, the light goes off and the girl vanishes again. I vow to myself that I am going to help that child. And in doing so, perhaps she can help me. But I won’t be able to do it on my own.





CHAPTER 33





NINA


‘I need to show you something,’ Maggie says with urgency. She scuttles towards the window, her chain rattling like Marley’s ghost’s. ‘Come here.’

Despite the facial bruising and my lost tooth, I decided tonight that we need to move forward and eat together. It’s the first time we have come face to face since she tried to escape ten days ago. This is not the welcome I expect, and I regard her with my usual suspicion.

My eyes dart around the room. The ottoman has been moved to under the window and its padded cushioning has an impression that suggests she’s been sitting there a lot. Nothing else appears out of the ordinary. It doesn’t mean that it isn’t. I can only trust Maggie as far as I can throw her. However, after the events of the other night, I take a chance that she won’t make the same mistake twice.

‘What is it?’ I reply and remove the key for her leg cuff from my pocket. She’s not listening. She’s standing by the shutters, pointing towards the house opposite Elsie’s.

‘You see that window?’ she asks, and I think she’s referring to the one with white paint covering much of it. ‘I can see directly into it.’

‘And that’s your big news? Who shall I call first, the Daily Mail or CNN?’

‘I haven’t finished,’ she snaps, then recognises that she shouldn’t have. She waits to see if I react, but I let it slide.

‘Okay, go on then.’

‘Have you ever met the family who live there?’

‘I’ve said hello a couple of times when I’ve walked past, I think. I haven’t paid them much attention.’

‘Because I saw the mother smacking her little girl last night.’

‘What do you mean by “smacking”?’

‘I mean exactly what you think I mean.’

‘What, like a smacked bum or a clip round the ear?’

‘I mean I’m sure she slapped her child around the face so hard that she hit the wall and fell to the floor.’

My hackles rise. I cannot abide cruelty to children, animals or the elderly, although I appreciate the irony of the latter. I move to the window for a clearer view.

‘And you’re positive you’re not mistaken?’

‘Yes, I’m sure that’s exactly what happened.’

‘You keep saying “I’m sure”, but did you actually see the slap?’

She hesitates for a split second, too long for my liking. ‘Despite what you may have told the world about my fictional mental state, I’m still compos mentis,’ she replies in a way that suggests I’ve offended her. ‘That little girl was locked in her room all night until this morning. She is being abused and neglected.’

Maggie meets my stare as we both recognise the similarities between her own circumstances and those of the girl. The difference between them is that no child can ever have done something that warrants such aggression. ‘Have you seen her tonight?’ I ask.