Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
JADE
It had been impossible to drift off to sleep after Annie’s haunting warning in the kitchen last night.
I’d felt like Amala was too exposed, too vulnerable sleeping in the bassinet beside my lumpy double bed.
I’d been unable to stop myself from imagining Annie creeping into the room in the dark, snatching my sweet girl from the basket and making off with her – to do God knows what.
Had she been warning me about herself? What she might be capable of?
It was as if she was trying to keep control of some long-hidden part of herself, and our presence here was somehow unravelling her hold on the chain.
These dark thoughts had made me sick to my stomach, dread churning up the meagre supper I’d managed to grab.
I had brought Amala into my bed, tucking her into the crook of my arm, holding her close as I kept watch over the locked bedroom door, waiting uneasily for the smooth brass doorknob to turn.
I wished with all my heart that Annie would just leave.
Pack a case and go, disappearing into the night without a word.
That she would put the puzzle pieces together and come to the conclusion I could see she was battling with, leaving me and Amala to finish what we had come here to do.
It would make it all so much easier, and I was running out of time.
I could only outrun him for so long before he caught up with me.
And if that happened, this would all have been for nothing.
I dressed blearily, my heart racing from sheer exhaustion. I couldn’t cope with much more of this. And yet I had no choice. I couldn’t walk away now. It would ruin everything.
I stifled a yawn, a shudder working up my spine, bringing a fresh wave of nervous adrenaline with it.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that bloody vest, the look of guilt on Annie’s face when I’d asked her outright what had happened.
She’d been lying. Of that there was no doubt.
The stain was no more coffee than it was jam.
I’d seen dried blood before, and it was unmistakable.
The way it flaked, the uneven splatter pattern.
She hadn’t been able to meet my eyes, her cheeks flushed as if she’d been caught out, her tone high and unnatural as she tried to talk her way out of what we both knew to be true.
Why was she so determined to protect her secret?
What was she hiding? Perhaps I should ask to go back up there, to see it again.
Surely an innocent woman would have no objection to putting her guest’s mind at ease?
I wished I could stay in this room all day, but doing so would achieve nothing. Leaving Amala sleeping in the bassinet, I unlocked the door, swearing under my breath as the bolt squeaked. If only there was a key I could use to lock it behind me, to keep my daughter safe.
I hurried down the hall, pausing outside Annie’s bedroom door and hearing nothing from behind it, then turned to the small window on the landing overlooking the front garden.
I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved that she was already out there, digging away.
For a moment, I stood still, deliberating.
But then I made up my mind. This might be my only opportunity.
Annie was always nearby, always popping up when I least expected it. But if I was quick…
I didn’t stop to reconsider as I rushed towards the loft hatch. The long wooden pole was exactly where I’d watched Annie hang it, and I hooked it through the catch, holding my breath as the ladder descended noisily.
I ran back to the window and peeped out to check the coast was clear.
Annie was still digging. Heart thumping wildly, I sprinted back to the ladder, clattering up it as fast as I could manage.
I flicked the light switch on, then, not stopping to let my doubts creep in, rushed into the maze of clutter, intent on finding the right box.
I couldn’t understand how Annie had navigated through this sea of mess as if she were following a well-worn path.
It all looked the same to me, and though I knew I should leave no trace of my snooping, I didn’t have time to be tidy, careful.
I flipped open lids, rifling and tipping out contents, heedless of the chaos as it piled up around me.
I upended yet another box and sucked in a breath.
Was this it? Was this what I’d come for? I hoped so.
As I reached down, the awful sound of the front door opening echoed up the ladder, chilling me to the bone. She couldn’t find me up here. Amala was alone…
After grabbing what I needed, I shoved it into the back of my jeans, yanking my top over the lump, then, my palms dripping with sweat, took wide, silent strides towards the ladder.
My mouth turned dry as I heard footsteps on the stairs below.
She was coming up. I reached the hatch and practically slid down the ladder, my feet barely touching the rungs, spinning to shove at it forcefully, watching it retreat into the hatch.
But I’d left the light on. Shit… And then the ladder ground to a halt, the rusted hinge jamming firm, leaving the hatch gaping open, making it clear what I’d been doing.
I couldn’t let her know I’d been up there.
Grabbing the pole, I gave a frantic shove, gritting my teeth against the resistance.
I felt the ladder give a tiny bit, and then, without so much as a squeak, it slid back into place, the hatch closing beneath it.
I didn’t have time to let myself feel any sense of relief.
The footsteps reached the landing, and I glanced around, trapped, then ducked into a bathroom to the left, flushing the chain and stepping out the door just as Annie rounded the corner.
She stopped, frowning, an expectant look on her face, and I knew I had to be drenched in sweat, red and shaking.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ I said breathlessly, pulling my shirt lower and keeping my back to the wall to hide my contraband.
‘I didn’t want to flush the toilet in the en suite.
Amala had an unsettled night, and I didn’t want to risk waking her. ’
Annie pursed her lips. ‘Is she feeding?’
‘What?’
‘Is she still feeding regularly? Are you engorged?’
‘ Excuse me?’
She pointed a dirt-covered finger at my face. ‘You’re sweating. You look like you have a fever. Could be mastitis. You need to make sure you keep feeding her. Unblock your milk ducts. You’re supposed to massage the breast while you feed.’
‘Um… right. I’ll do that.’ I wiped a shaking hand across my forehead.
‘How do you know about that? I thought you said you didn’t know anything about babies?
’ I said, recalling the conversation we’d had my first day here.
I’d asked for her help, said I knew nothing about raising a baby, and she’d said neither did she. Where had this come from?
She shook her head, turning for her own room.
‘I need a shower. Aaron usually comes around this time. If he does, will you take the shopping from him and put it away in the kitchen?’ Her eyes met mine, a challenge somehow, and I didn’t dare to refuse.
I nodded, and she walked away without a word of thanks .
I let out a long, slow breath, then reached behind me, my hand gripping tight to the package I’d secreted away, and wondered if I had finally found the answers I so desperately needed.