What Lies Between Us(48)
Tonight, when Nina came to my room to bring me downstairs for dinner, it was like nothing had happened. I considered confronting her, asking why she doubted the abuse, but what would have been the point? Once Nina makes up her mind about something, she never changes it. So instead, we ate, she told me of her day voluntarily and we reminisced about when she was a child and recalled old memories because we are unable to make new ones.
Two other occurrences have also left me without answers. Earlier, while I was enjoying a warmer-than-usual bath, Nina installed a new television in my room. She hadn’t mentioned she was planning to do it or offered an explanation as to why. I just entered the bedroom and there it was. Then, when I faced the opposite direction with my ankle raised, waiting for her to swap my long chain for the shorter one, she didn’t. She just left the room with a ‘See you on Friday.’
I was suspicious of the gesture, as I am with every random act of kindness. Both this and the new television can be taken away as quickly as they have been given. But while the chain remains, I can leave the confines of this room and use the bathroom whenever I want to. I have access to a toilet again instead of using the bucket in the corner of my bedroom.
I awake later in the night with the urge to spend a penny. And instead of using the bucket, I sit down on a cold toilet seat and cry my heart out as I urinate. It is such a small act, but enough to make me feel like a human being again.
CHAPTER 40
NINA
I wonder if, on a much smaller scale, this is how it feels to be a dictator, the head of a regime in which you always get your own way. Nobody challenges the decisions you make and those that do are swiftly taken down. It’s how living with Maggie makes me feel; that I am the leader of this autocracy and the weight of responsibility for both our lives is firmly upon my shoulders. For most of my life, she was the one in charge. But dictators are almost always eventually toppled. So despite improvements in our relationship, I’ll never rest on my laurels when I’m around her. I can’t allow the balance of power to shift full circle.
With her back in her room, I take the opportunity to enjoy the mild weather and new garden furniture outside, hoping Elsie hasn’t spotted me. I can’t be bothered with her forked tongue and poorly disguised accusations tonight. I’ve brought my glass of wine with me and take a couple of mouthfuls before closing my eyes and enjoying the silence.
I think about the little girl across the road and hope I made the right choice in not slipping the letter into her bag. I was only a couple of footsteps away from knocking the bag off her shoulder when her mum suddenly appeared from the corner shop with two chocolate bars and brightly coloured comics in her hands. Her excitable kids hugged her to say thanks and the three of them continued to school holding hands. Because I’d only witnessed the aftermath of the alleged violence, I couldn’t be 100 per cent sure that the smacks weren’t the result of Maggie’s overactive imagination. Perhaps being cooped up in the attic is beginning to play funny tricks on her mind. Because I’d stake money that the woman I saw with those two children yesterday was not someone who’d inflict violence. It’s hard for me to put into words, but I could just tell theirs was a relationship based on love and quite unlike mine and Maggie’s.
An alarm sounds on my phone, reminding me to do something. I reach into my pocket and remove a blisterpack of tablets. I pop one from its foil wrapping and swallow it with a swig of wine. I know that I’m not supposed to drink with my meds, but I’m sure it can’t do that much harm. I hate taking tablets so I swallow it quickly. It was supposed to be a quick-fix solution, but two years later I’m scared at what might happen to me if I stop.
CHAPTER 41
NINA
TWO YEARS EARLIER
The new GP sitting opposite me scrolls through my medical notes on a computer. He’s at least a decade younger than me and there’s something white and pea-sized stuck to his hair just above his ear, as if he missed a spot when he was styling it this morning. I stop myself from leaning over and ruffling it until it dissolves.
It’s the first time I have seen him or any doctor since changing surgeries from the one where Mum works. I assume she knows I’m no longer registered there; not that either of us have mentioned it. It’s none of her business. In the aftermath of her sabotaging my adoption plans, I don’t want her knowing anything about my life or poking through my records.
A rift has opened up between us, even larger than the one when Dad left. Every spare penny I earn I am saving to get the hell out of that house and far away from her. My failure to adopt has hurt me in ways I didn’t think possible. For months, I have lived under a black cloud that I can’t escape. Dr Kelly is my last resort.
Despite his youthful appearance, I’ll give him his due – he has the sympathetic bedside manner of a GP with many more years’ experience. He listens when I tell him of my endless despondency.
‘And you’ve been feeling like this for how long?’ he asks.
‘A few months.’
‘Has it ever manifested itself into suicidal feelings?’
‘No.’
‘Not at all?’
‘No. I don’t want to kill myself.’
‘Have you had any desire to self-harm?’