What Lies Between Us(61)

CHAPTER 52





MAGGIE


TWO YEARS EARLIER


Something is putting an immense amount of weight on my head, pushing it deep into the pillow as far as it will go and preventing me from moving it. I try to lift my arms to push myself up, but they are as weak as a baby’s. I slowly reach for my scalp to push away whatever is holding me down, but all I feel is my hair. It’s matted and greasy to the touch. Then I realise the pressure isn’t coming from the outside, but the inside.

I begin to panic. This is what a stroke must feel like; blood has stopped pumping to my brain and my cells are slowly dying. I need to get help. I attempt to move my neck but it’s as stiff as plywood. A shooting pain runs up the left-hand side of it and then spreads across the back of my head, making the pain even more excruciating. I want to open my eyes but it’s easier said than done. Eventually both sets of eyelashes unstick and everything is bright again, but my eyes struggle to focus. I am completely disorientated. Wherever I am, it’s grey and gloomy, and unidentifiable objects surround me. Gradually, I push my way up whatever it is I’m lying on; they’re soft to the touch, like cushions, maybe? I don’t get very far because every inch releases more sharp bursts across my head. I don’t have the strength to continue.

A voice comes from nowhere, alarming me. ‘Let me help you.’ It sounds as if it’s coming from a tape recorder played at half-speed. ‘Give me your arms, Maggie,’ it continues, and I suddenly realise who it is. Nina is here, but she sounds different.

‘Thank God,’ I mumble, my throat dry and crackly. I slide my hand around until I eventually find hers. ‘I need an ambulance.’

Nina’s hand leaves mine and I feel the warmth radiating from her body as she leans across me, places her hands under my arms and lifts me until I am in a slightly raised position. The pain in my head switches sides, forcing a sharp intake of breath. I’m beginning to wish she’d left me where I was.

Her fingers gently part my lips and something small and with a smooth texture is placed between them. The next thing I feel is something wet and cool pressed against my mouth, then liquid running down my chin.

‘Take a sip of water and swallow,’ Nina says.

It feels like such a monumental effort to ask her again to call 999, so I do as she says without question. If she is here with me then I am safe. So I close my eyes again and drift back into sleep and dream of her when she was my baby girl. All I ever wanted was my beautiful baby girl . . .



I’m barely conscious again, but my head still throbs like a jackhammer is pounding the living daylights from it. I reach out my hand until I feel Nina’s and it calms me in an instant. This time when I open my eyes and take a deep breath, the space around me no longer smells stale. There’s a familiarity about it, but also a newness.

‘Take it slowly,’ Nina advises and helps to lift me up into a sitting position. She tilts my head back and the stiffness in my neck makes me cry out. ‘Open your eyes a little bit more,’ she says, and I feel a cool wet cloth dabbing at them. Then two cold drops sting each of them. ‘It’s okay, they’ll help,’ Nina adds.

In a croaky voice I tell her that I have a splitting headache, so she offers me a tablet. My mouth is parched and I guzzle water from the bottle like I’ve discovered an oasis in the desert.

Eventually my senses begin sharpening and I’m comforted to see I’m at home and in my own bedroom. It’s darker than usual.

‘What happened to me?’ I ask.

Nina’s fingers entwine within mine. Hers are warm while mine are cold. ‘Moxydogrel,’ she whispers.

‘Moxy . . . what?’

‘Moxydogrel,’ she repeats. There’s a pause as my muddled mind lurches from one half-baked memory to another and tries to recall why I recognise the word. Suddenly it hits me and I know that she can see it in my expression because her fingers dig deep into mine like claws.

My hearts pounds like my head and it wants to burst through my ribcage.

What does she know?

I don’t want to be in here any longer; I have to get out. I try and push myself up the bed but Nina keeps her fingers firmly locked around mine to the point where if I move any further, they will snap like twigs.

What does she know?

With my one free hand I rub at my eyes and examine her face. She is deceptively calm. But I know there is something lurking beneath the surface because I have seen it before. A familiar detachment. We remain like two scorpions, each circling one another, poisonous tails aloft and waiting for the other to strike first. But I am too weak to fight her, and she knows that. Because she has made me this feeble.

What does she know?

I look towards the window and I am confused by the absence of the net curtains and why they’ve been replaced with white shutters. The carpet has also disappeared, leaving exposed floorboards. Everything else in the bedroom appears to be the same.

Finally, Nina lets go of my hand and takes a step back. I swing my shaking legs over the side of the bed and sit upright. For the first time, I am aware of something heavy attached to my ankle and weighing it down. I lift my leg up and I see something like a cuff and a chain.

‘What . . . what have you done to me?’ I ask, my eyes now stinging with fear.

‘I should be asking you the same thing,’ she replies.