Chapter 7
SEVEN
I pulled the block of cheese from the fridge, cutting thick, uneven slices and slapping them onto the roughly sliced bread, trying not to make eye contact with Jade, who stood beside the hearth watching my every move.
‘I hope you don’t feel like I’m expecting you to wait on me,’ she said softly.
‘I just didn’t want to rifle through your cupboards.
I wasn’t sure you’d be okay with that. I can give you some money towards the shopping,’ she offered, her voice quiet, uncertain, as if she wasn’t sure how I might take the suggestion. ‘I have a little bit of cash on me.’
I looked up, seeing her pale face crease with awkward embarrassment as her stomach gave a loud rumble.
‘That won’t be necessary.’ I hadn’t given it much thought – feeding her, telling her to help herself to food.
I couldn’t be sure if my poor hosting skills were down to a lack of practice on my part or a pointed way to let her know she was unwelcome here.
Sighing, I had to admit to myself that the latter was probably more true than I’d like to admit.
The realisation made me feel ashamed. If she was on the run from abuse, the last thing she needed to encounter was a host who barely fed her .
I finished making the sandwiches, then, on second thoughts, flipped open the fridge door again, pulling out a yoghurt.
I added some crackers and hummus to her plate before carrying it over to the table.
‘I’ll make a pot of tea,’ I said, gesturing for her to sit down.
She hesitated only a moment, then, her eyes lingering on the food, walked over, pulled out a chair and slumped into it, holding the baby with one arm as she ate.
I watched, pursing my lips as I assessed the situation. There was nothing here to make life with a newborn easier. No bouncy chair, no bassinet, and the kitchen floor was hard and cold, too dangerous for the baby to be set down on.
Jade glanced up to find me looking at her, and raised an eyebrow. ‘Aren’t you having something?’ she asked through a mouthful of crackers.
I nodded towards my plate, where my solitary sandwich sat untouched.
I was too nauseated to face it, my belly churning with anxiety.
‘Do… do you want me to hold her? So that you can eat with both hands?’ I didn’t know why I made the offer.
It was the wrong thing to do. I knew it.
But despite that knowledge, a part of me wanted to feel the weight of the baby in my arms. To hold her against my chest and breathe in that newborn smell.
‘You don’t mind?’ Jade asked, her eyes widening in hope.
I pressed my lips together, not offering a reply, instead walking over and taking Amala from her before I could change my mind; before I could make the sensible choice and walk away.
Amala’s head wobbled, and I held my breath, hyper aware of the solid flagstones beneath me, flashes of horrific images, terrifying premonitions of the consequences of me losing my grasp on her, burning through my mind’s eye.
My hands trembled as I adjusted her, each move slow and careful.
Jade turned back to her plate, seemingly unbothered about handing her baby over to a stranger.
It was crazy to me that she might not sense the danger in that.
How easily she had given her up, how willing to believe she could trust me to care for the most important person in her world. How very stupid.
I walked slowly over to one of the armchairs by the unlit fireplace, lowering myself into it and taking in the baby’s tiny features.
The tight black ringlets. The long curling eyelashes.
The round chubby cheeks. The tiny pink lips, pursed in a little triangle shape.
I stared at her and felt sick. It had been a mistake to take her, hold her, but despite knowing that, I couldn’t seem to bring myself to stand up and give her back to her mother.
I placed a hand over her back, letting it rise and fall with her every breath, looking around my kitchen, at the mess on the counter, the sun shining through the latticed window, anywhere but down at the baby I held on to, the only sound coming from Jade as she methodically worked her way through her lunch.
She must have been starving. Guilt and shame flooded me again.
I wasn’t the person to help her. I had barely managed to save myself.
‘The man who came round with the strawberries,’ I said suddenly, angling myself to look at her. ‘He’s a policeman. And he’s a friend of mine. He can help you if you’re in trouble.’
Jade paused, her mouth full of food, her eyes widening. She swallowed thickly. ‘He gave off a vibe,’ she said softly. ‘I didn’t trust him.’
I nodded. I could understand that. I’d been wary of men too, when I’d first come here. But Aaron wasn’t Ryan. ‘If it wasn’t for him, there’d be no food in this house. He does all my shopping. And he does it without my ever having asked him. He’s a good person.’
‘Why don’t you just order what you need online?’
I flushed, aware that I was going to look even stranger than I probably already did.
‘I don’t have the internet here.’ I glanced at the mobile phone she’d placed beside her plate on the table.
‘I don’t even have one of those. Just a basic landline for emergencies.
Actually—’ I broke off, not wanting to ask.
‘What?’
I sighed. ‘Could you do something for me? I just want to see something.’
‘Online, you mean?’
I nodded. ‘I… I sell these birdhouses at a local shop – hand-made ones.’ I pointed out the window to the huge one that stood in the centre of the lawn.
‘Wow… Did you make that?’ she asked, her eyes wide as she took it in.
‘I did.’ I watched her for a sign that she already knew. That she’d found me because she’d seen Ron’s ad online. The timing was too close to be coincidental, and yet Jade remained unruffled as she studied the birdhouse.
‘It’s so detailed. The little wooden animal carvings look so realistic. You’re very talented; it must have taken for ever.’
I shrugged. ‘Not too long. But I think someone might be selling them online and I just wanted to check. I can’t, you see.’
She glanced down at her phone, and again I watched her face carefully.
There had been so many of the birdhouses at the flat when I’d finally left, and somehow I couldn’t imagine Ryan destroying them.
She must have seen them there. And if she had, she’d have recognised them instantly if she’d seen an ad online.
That was if Ryan hadn’t seen them first. He was addicted to his phone, always online.
Either way, it would have been so easy to find me once they’d tracked Ron down.
Ron knew I was Aaron’s neighbour, and it wasn’t like there were any other houses nearby. It was just the two of us here.
She typed something I couldn’t see, shaking her head as she clicked her tongue, and I felt relieved that she was coming up empty-handed.
Aaron had done as he’d promised and got the ad taken down.
But then she held up the phone, showing me an image that made my heart turn to stone in my chest. ‘This one looks similar. Is it one of yours?’
I stared, balling my hands into fists to stop them from trembling.
She clicked the picture and nodded to herself.
‘It takes me to a website: Annie’s Hand-Made Birdhouses.
It’s a pretty basic site, not very professional-looking…
oh, and there’s a Facebook page attached.
Hold on. The signal is awful here; it’s taking a minute to load. ’
I stood behind her, watching the screen.
It finally loaded, and I saw the profile picture was one of my most recent pieces.
Jade clicked on the ‘about’ page, and there was a description.
English woodworker Annie Balfour, who lives in a charming Cotswold village…
The words blurred in front of me, and I felt myself sway.
I gripped the back of her chair. ‘Are there ads?’ I whispered. ‘That people will see on there?’
‘I can check.’ She clicked a few buttons and then nodded. ‘Yes. There are four running at the moment. Three in the UK and one for North America.’
‘Oh my God…’
‘You’re very talented, Annie,’ she repeated, smiling up at me. ‘It’s a good idea to sell them online.’
I shook my head at the horrible realisation that not only were the photographs being pushed to the world, but my name was tied in with them.
It would leave no doubt in his mind. I glanced down at the phone in her hand and something caught my eye.
‘What does that mean?’ I frowned, pointing at the screen where a little button said Following .
‘Oh… I must have just clicked it while I was searching,’ she said, her cheeks turning pink. ‘I’ll leave it, though; I want to see what you make next.’
‘You won’t see anything. I’m going to get it taken down.’
She dipped her head as if she might argue with me but said nothing.
‘And I’d appreciate it if you’d turn off any location sharing or tracking apps on that thing while you’re here,’ I said, my tone curt.
‘On the phone?’ She frowned. ‘I don’t have any tracking. ’
‘Is there anyone who might want to find you? Follow you here?’ I retorted pointedly.
She placed her sandwich down slowly. ‘Nobody knows where I am, Annie. Only you.’
‘You just had a baby. Surely someone is going to notice your absence?’
She bowed her head but didn’t answer.
‘Look, if you won’t talk to Aaron about whatever it is you’re running from, why not try that women’s refuge I told you about?’
‘You don’t want me here.’ The words were an accusation.
‘I don’t know how to help you.’