Chapter 78
Susan
Thursday
When the gardaí leave, I sit with my head in my hands.
I should have told them I was out on Wednesday.
And what about this car they mentioned? A dark blue Ford Mondeo, one that looks like Jon’s—well, ours, but I know it wasn’t me—outside Savannah’s house the morning she was murdered.
And according to Jon’s assistant, Jon wasn’t in his office at the time.
It might mean nothing. There are lots of blue Ford Mondeos around.
But realistically, it can’t be a coincidence, can it?
And yet, I didn’t say any of this to the guards just now.
I don’t know why. Some kind of self-preservation, making me slow down and think before blurting it out?
Protecting Jon to protect Bella, at least until I think things through?
Or the fear that if I go up against Jon, he might have Bella taken off me…
And then there’s Greta. Greta lied about seeing Jon on Monday night.
And she couldn’t babysit last Wednesday but didn’t say why.
And now I know she met with Jon in his office that morning.
I can’t think of a single reason Greta would do that.
I mean, OK, if it wasn’t for the cheating, I’d think maybe Jon was organizing a surprise party and getting help from my sisters.
Leesa and I surprised Greta with a trip to Paris for her fortieth, and then Greta and I surprised Leesa with a weekend in Monart after all the stuff she went through with Maeve.
I keep telling them it’s my turn for a surprise.
I do have a birthday next month, but…it’s not a milestone one, and my husband cares so little about me he’s been having an affair while I’m at home with our newborn baby.
So no. I don’t know why Greta was in Jon’s office and there’s a horrible, sick feeling in my gut telling me this is all linked to Savannah Holmes.
A noise from the garden catches my attention and, for a moment, I freeze.
The doors are locked, the side gate’s padlocked now too: nobody can come in.
But still. The idea that there’s someone out there, someone trying to get at me or trying to hurt Bella, or maybe…
maybe deliberately making me look like an unfit mother?
I pull Bella close and stand, craning my neck to look out the window.
A squirrel darts across the lawn and up an apple tree.
That’s all it was. But it’s enough. I can’t live like this. I’m not staying here.
And although she’s the obvious choice, I don’t want to go to Greta’s. I hate admitting it to myself, but I don’t fully trust her. Leesa’s house is not ideal—it’s smaller than ours, and two extra people is a lot—but I don’t know what else I can do. I pick up the phone.
I give Leesa an abbreviated version. Someone tried to get into the house while I was upstairs.
This is true. I don’t tell her the person actually did get in and took Bella and put her outside in the front garden, because the last thing I need is my own sister thinking I’ve lost it and my child isn’t safe with me.
She says we’re welcome for as long as we want to stay and, within an hour, I’m unpacking in her spare bedroom as she sets up the bassinet beside the bed.
“Sorry, it’ll be a bit cramped for the three of you,” Leesa says, eyeing up the double bed. “I could see if Aoife would swap with you guys, but then you’d have to live with her dark purple walls…”
Oh. Shit. Now I have to tell her Jon isn’t coming.
“It’s just Bella and me for now. Jon is OK staying in our house; he’s only there at night after work, so…” I trail into a shrug that’s supposed to explain everything.
Leesa frowns. “Oh. Won’t he miss Bella? And if you’re worried about whoever tried to get in coming back, he’d be as well off here. Do you think it’s the same person who broke the window?”
“Yes.” That part is true. It has to be the same person.
“Which is also the person who sent the death threat, I guess? Can I read it again?”
She points at my phone, but I know it off by heart.
“ ‘You got away lightly last night. You deserve to die for that message and what it’s done.’ ”
“Nice. So, it’s either Warren losing face, Nika losing friends, Cody losing his work placement, or Celeste…losing her mind.” Leesa smiles, delighted with her play on words. “OK, on a serious note, if Jon wants to stay here, we’ll make room. He’s your husband, he’s family.”
My husband who doesn’t know I’ve moved out. God, I’d better tell him.
“I’ll think about it, and thanks a mill for everything, but you probably need to log on to work.”
She glances at her watch and hurries from the room as I hit Jon’s number on my phone.
“Hey.”
There’s that wariness. I feel sick.
“Hi. I wanted to let you know that I’m staying in Leesa’s for a bit.
Something happened this morning at the house and—” I stop.
I’m about to tell him the whole thing—but what if we separate?
What if he wants custody? Imagine his case.
My wife let our daughter get sunburnt. My wife put her out in the garden and forgot.
It doesn’t sound great. And right now, apart from everything else, I don’t trust him.
“What happened?”
“I think someone tried to break in. Everything’s fine, Bella’s fine, but I don’t feel safe.”
“OK. I’ll pack some things and come over after work.”
“There isn’t room here for three of us, really. And I think once Bella’s safely out of our house, that’s the main thing. I think you’ll be fine.” Much as I hate him right now, much as I don’t trust him, the conversation makes me sad.
“Oh.”
Silence then, and there’s so much in that silence. An entire marriage. Eventually, I whisper “bye” and disconnect.
Now, there’s one more call I have to make.