Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
ANNIE
I wished I hadn’t told him. Hadn’t opened the floodgates to the outside world. The fight I’d had when I’d come here three years ago had been the hardest of my life, and I had let that influence me, let Aaron steamroll me into agreeing to send Jade away, though deep down, I knew it was wrong.
I curled into the armchair, my tanned bare feet tucked beneath me, the chunky blanket I was halfway through knitting draped over my lap, cosy despite the warmth of the evening.
I let my fingers work fast. I wanted to finish the blanket for Amala and give it to Jade as a peace offering, a signal that I really meant what I said when I’d told her she was welcome to stay here.
Now that I knew the truth, I was regretting my behaviour, the coldness that I was perfectly aware had been far from welcoming.
I would tell Aaron I’d made a mistake. That I wanted her here with me.
There was a part of me that was actually excited about the idea of Jade and the baby staying longer.
I hadn’t realised how alone I’d been before now, but the thought of having a friend here, someone who understood me, my past, who had her own demons to battle too, was something I could learn to embrace.
She was going through such a lot right now, but I could see that in time we could be close.
It surprised me to realise how much I would like that.
And Amala… what a blessing it would be to have the opportunity to watch her grow.
She’d already changed in the short time she’d been here, her expressions more alert, her wide brown eyes taking everything in.
The image of a little girl toddling round the place, asking me about the flowers in the garden, breaking the silence I’d grown accustomed to, was far more warming than I could have anticipated.
I wanted them here. Wanted to make up for my own failings in not making sure Ryan couldn’t hurt another woman.
I placed the knitting needles on my lap, unwinding the ball of yarn, then dropping it by my feet and beginning another row.
When I’d first come here, it had made perfect sense to cut him off and never speak his name again.
Aaron had pushed and pushed, determined to find out what had happened to me, but I’d steadfastly held my tongue, refusing to speak his name for fear that it would lead him right to me.
I’d risked everything to keep my connection to Ryan a secret – risked prison even.
In the end, it hadn’t come to that. I’d been released without charge, though I knew they were wrong to let me go.
That I deserved to have the book thrown at me.
But I’d been sent back here to this empty house, labelled a victim, piteous and pathetic, and the only saving grace had been that my location was still uncompromised.
It had taken a long time before I’d felt able to open up to Aaron about what had really happened in the lead-up to those awful first months here.
The living room door creaked, and I stopped knitting, looking up to see Jade in the doorway, Amala upright in her arms, her little head bobbing around as she stared at everything with fascination.
The sight of it, her curiosity, her development in just the space of a week, made my stomach twist with an emotion I wasn’t ready to face, but I pushed it aside and smiled, determined to make Jade comfortable.
‘I hope you like yellow,’ I said, holding up the soft square in my lap to show her.
‘It’s for Amala. I’ll have it finished in the next day or so.
I know that room sometimes gets a draught. ’
She didn’t reply, didn’t return my smile, and I tried not to let it offend me. Instead, I looked down at my needles, resuming my task.
‘It wasn’t coffee.’
I froze, my eyes wide as they rose to meet hers.
‘On the vest. You and I both know it wasn’t coffee.’
‘No,’ I said softly. ‘It wasn’t.’
She stepped into the room, pushing the door closed behind her. ‘I don’t have a right to know your business. But I have to think of Amala. To know she’s safe here.’
I frowned, confused. Jade had given no indication that she was afraid Ryan might turn up, and despite my initial fears that he would, the more time that passed, the more I had begun to relax.
Surely, if he knew where she was, if he was going to come, he would have done so by now?
He’d never been a patient man. I could only assume her location had been turned off on her phone – that he wasn’t aware of her being here – a fact that made my fear dissipate.
‘All I can think about is that vest… that blood.’ She closed her eyes as if remembering, disgust flooding her pretty features. Then she opened them and set her jaw. ‘I want to know what happened. No, actually,’ she corrected, her mouth twisting, ‘I don’t want to know. But I have to know.’
I knitted silently, the needles clacking together as I worked towards the end of the row.
The rhythmic movement steadied me, prepared me.
I could see she had no intention of letting it go.
I’d been waiting for this moment. Reaching the last stitch, I clutched the smooth wooden needles in one hand and gave a single nod .
‘Sit down,’ I said softly, gesturing to the sofa. ‘But I warn you, it’s not a pretty story.’
She crossed the room and lowered herself onto a cushion, her arms a cage around her daughter as she positioned her on her lap.
And then I began to tell a story I’d hoped never to speak of again.