What Lies Between Us(82)

The rage inside me builds steadily as I imagine how Jane is using emotional blackmail to keep us apart. And the worst thing about it is that Dylan will be falling for it because he won’t want to upset her. He, like me, is an innocent party in all of this. We are pawns in other people’s games. We don’t want to hurt anyone but, in trying to keep everyone else happy, we sacrifice the most.

I miss Dylan now every bit as much as I did the moment Maggie whisked him away from me on the day of his birth. In fact, now it’s even worse because I’ve got to know him. I know how it feels to be someone’s parent and to have it whipped away from me twice.

I feel sick at the thought of never hearing from him again. I scroll through my phone and reread our older messages. He has been in my life for such a short period of time, yet he’s filled a gap in me the size of the Grand Canyon. I text him one last time. I’m not proud of how desperate I sound. I say anything I can think of to get him back. If he has any love or compassion for me whatsoever, he will reply.

‘What’s wrong, hun?’ Jenna asks. I jump, not having heard her approach.

‘I’m fine,’ I say, and wipe my moist eyes with my fingertips. It’s clear that I’m anything but fine, and she looks at me sympathetically.

‘Do you want to tell me about it over a cuppa?’

‘No, no, I’m okay, but thank you. It’s just stuff to do with my mum.’ My colleagues know about Mum’s ‘dementia’ and are sympathetic. I don’t like being an object of pity but sometimes, like now, I use it to my advantage.

Jenna nods. ‘Well, you know where I am if you need me,’ she adds, then leaves me alone.

I take another look at my emails, my junk folder, then Messenger, but none contain messages from Dylan that I’ve missed.

I return to the ground level of the library and without warning, Maggie’s face flashes before me. I shut my eyes, clench my fists and make her disappear. This all began with her lies and separating me from my child. This is her fault. She is the reason Dylan and I are estranged. She is the architect of my misery. Since discovering her lump, she’s fooled me into no longer thinking we are on opposing sides. I’ve been an idiot. She is doing to me what Dylan’s mum is doing to him. We are being manipulated. And we have fallen for it because he and I are good people with huge hearts.

Maggie needs to be reminded of her place. Despite the cruelty, the selfishness and the pain she has caused, I still found a way to care. But not any more. She is the person I share the house with, nothing more, nothing less. She means no more to me than the curtains that hide what goes on in there, the floorboards I walk over or the doors we use to separate us.

And things at home are about to take a very nasty turn for my mother.





CHAPTER 70





MAGGIE


What Nina does the moment after she opens the door to my section of the house tells me about the mood she is in.

If she shouts ‘Hiya’, then she is in a good mood. If she yells ‘Is anyone up there?’ she thinks she’s being funny, and chances are she will be in a brash mood. If it’s a simple ‘Maggie’, she’ll be feeling churlish and dinner won’t last for long. But if once the door is unlocked and pushed open she leaves without a word, well, those are the dinners that fill me with dread. They’re unpredictable – and I sense tonight is to be just that.

My first thought when I hear the door – but not her – is that she’s found the hole I have been chipping away at with the screw. I shut my eyes tightly. She knows what I’ve been doing. Last night, the toothpaste I’ve been using as an adhesive to stick the egg box back on to the wall hadn’t been strong enough and it slipped off. I reattached it but now I’m scared it’s fallen again and that Nina has opened the door to come upstairs and spotted what it’s covering, hence her silence.

I’ve removed another half an inch of plaster and wood, and I know my objective is close because when I’ve lain on the floor with my ear pressed to it, I’m just able to hear the boiler inside the airing cupboard gurgling to life. If I can make that out, chances are Nina’s friend might be able to hear me when I shout for help. Going by the depth of the gap, I must have reached the final layer of plasterboard. I stopped there because if I go too deep, I risk creating a hole that Nina could spot from the other side. Then all of this will have been for nothing. Instead, I moved on to another section.

Nina’s silence is killing me, so as quietly as I can, considering I have a chain attached to my ankle, I move towards the doorway and peek down the stairs. The door is wide open but she’s not in sight. I make my descent and as I reach the landing of the first floor, I’m relieved to see the egg box is still in place over the hole.

I’ve been left to make my own way to the dining room, and once inside, I take my usual seat. The plastic cutlery has returned and the tabletop is also lacking the usual array of vitamins, seeds and supplements. She’s used my grandmother’s lace tablecloth. I see that it’s shrunk and is no longer an ivory colour, more like a washed-out grey. She is punishing me. But if it’s not for hacking away at the soundproofing, what does she think I’ve done?

I don’t have time to question it because she appears. The tray she holds contains a large porcelain cooking pot with steam rising from under a lid. I assume it’s another stew. There’s also a bread knife and an uncut loaf. I offer her a smile and a hello but the corners of her mouth barely rise when she returns the greeting. She’s in a foul mood, I can tell.