What Lies Between Us(85)

‘But you’re at home now, so why is she still padlocked?’

‘Dylan, don’t listen to her, she’s lying,’ I plead and grab at his arm. ‘Please get me out of here or call the police, call anyone, just get me away from her and let the authorities decide who’s telling the truth.’

‘No, don’t,’ Nina says. ‘She’s manipulating you in the same way Jane does, you know I wouldn’t lie to you.’ She takes his other arm in her hands. ‘You mean everything to me. I wouldn’t risk that by not being honest with you.’

‘Then why were you holding a knife above her when I arrived?’

‘I . . . I . . . I was just trying to scare her into doing what she’s told.’

Dylan shakes his head.

‘You have to believe me,’ she begs. ‘She might look harmless but you don’t know what she’s capable of. She killed my dad – your grandfather – then she tried to keep you and me apart . . . She’s a monster.’

When Dylan’s jaw drops and his eyes blaze with fear, I know that he believes me.

‘I gave you away to Jane because she was a good woman and because I was trying to protect you from Nina,’ I interrupt. ‘You must believe me when I say that my daughter isn’t well. Look at what she’s doing to me. If you hadn’t arrived when you did, I’d be dead.’

Nina’s face creases, confusion contorting it, and it’s as if what I’m saying is news to her. Her psychotic rage has taken away any memory of what she was about to do to me with that knife.

‘Where’s the key for her padlock?’ Dylan asks, expressionless.

She shoots him a look that displays her disappointment. ‘You’re not listening to me!’ she counters. ‘She’s fooling you – you don’t know what she’s like. You can’t take her side.’

‘But I can’t just pretend I haven’t seen that you have my grandmother chained up in your house! Whatever’s going on in here isn’t normal. You both need help.’

Nina opens her mouth but struggles to find the right words because she knows that what he is saying is correct. Nothing about us or this house or our family is normal. It stopped being that way the day Alistair began abusing his daughter.

‘Now give me the key,’ he continues.

Nina shakes her head and tightens her jaw.

‘Nina,’ he says more firmly, but she won’t back down. ‘Mum,’ he asserts. His use of the word appears to surprise her. I wonder if it’s the first time he’s referred to her as this because she begins to weep. I look to Dylan to gauge his reaction but this is unchartered territory for him and he doesn’t know to respond. However, I can’t allow him to be sidetracked by sympathy for her. I must put myself first.

‘The key is in her pocket,’ I say.

‘Please don’t do this,’ sobs Nina, slowly shaking her head as he approaches her. ‘I’ve only done what’s best. You have to believe me.’

Dylan stands face to face with her. Her nose is running and her cheeks are wet but she doesn’t try and stop him when he slips his hand inside her pocket and pulls out the key ring. ‘This is the right thing to do,’ he says.

‘You’re going to leave me, aren’t you?’ she cries, but he ignores her. Instead, he gives me a smile as if to reassure me that it’s all going to be all right. And I believe him. He is the one good thing to come out of today’s mess. He crouches and slips the key inside the lock.

And then it happens. My grandson who I never thought I’d see again sets me free.

I look to him with such gratitude that I want to cry. Before I can thank him, he says, ‘Come on’, and without looking back to his mother, he slips his arm around my waist and we make our way towards the landing.

The noise appears quickly; the familiar sound of a rattling chain. Dylan and I turn together, but barely have time to register the metal cuff swinging in the air before it comes into contact with his forehead. It knocks him flat on to his back.

‘No!’ I scream and my grandson looks up at me, stunned but unable to comprehend what has just happened. I watch helplessly as Nina lifts the chain and tries to hit him again, but this time she’s not as accurate and leaves part of the doorframe in splinters. There’s something familiar about the deadened rage in her eyes but I don’t have time to dwell on it. Dylan’s not quick enough to move for her third shot, and this one catches him again but on the side of his head. There’s a sickening crunch of metal against bone. This time, she leaves a dent embedded in his skull.

‘Stop it! For God’s sake stop it!’ I plead. ‘He’s your son!’ But she cannot hear me. Nina’s face is once again blank and devoid of all humanity. I look to Dylan again and only when he blinks do I know that he is still alive.

I drop to my knees to try and comfort him but the poor boy is in shock. I grab the oven gloves from the table to stem the blood seeping from the dent in his head, which is beginning to trickle down his face. Flashbacks to the similar injury Nina gave Alistair return thick and fast. ‘It’ll be okay, I promise,’ I tell Dylan, but I don’t know how it will be. ‘Where’s your phone? I’ll call for help.’

I fish around inside his pockets but he pushes me away and slowly turns himself over. He uses his arms to drag himself towards the staircase. Perhaps he is as scared of me as he is of Nina. ‘Oh Dylan,’ I beg, ‘please let me help you. Please give me your phone.’