Chapter Thirty
When Alison had first met Roy, he’d given her butterflies, little flutterings of excitement whenever she saw him playing pool in the pub. But now she realised she’d misread the signs. Her body had been sending her a warning message and they hadn’t been the stirrings of love, but fear.
In the aftermath of Roy coming back from the exhibition, she’d started to see things more clearly.
All weekend she’d behaved herself, biding her time, and then last night she’d lain awake until she was sure Roy was out for the count.
With slow, steady movements, she’d got up and knelt down beside the chair where he’d slung his clothes.
Without taking her eyes off Roy, she’d felt inside his pockets until she touched the smooth surface of her own mobile phone.
Then she’d backed out of the room and locked herself in the bathroom. Even so, she’d made sure to flick the phone to silent before turning it on and watching the screen fill with icons, missed calls and unread messages.
She had a horrible feeling she could guess what had upset her dad at the exhibition, but she needed to check.
She opened up the Save Our Museum committee spreadsheet and there, beside the listing for her grandfather’s embroidered picture was a big fat asterisk.
Just as she’d feared, someone else had followed up on this SW’s story and written it up for her poor dad to see.
She’d tried so hard to control things, find out who SW was and limit the damage, but she’d failed.
Then, this morning, when Roy got up, showered and held out his hand for Will’s packed lunch, signalling he was still in charge, she realised she was also failing her son.
The problem was, Alison didn’t know what to do next.
For now, she had her phone back, but who could she call?
And how could she put into words what was happening?
It wasn’t as if Roy had expressly forbidden her from going out; it was just an unspoken understanding that she wouldn’t until his say-so.
She walked from room to room and settled in her usual spot on the living-room floor, her back to the wall under the front window.
This was a good place to wait: it meant she could hear the first rumble of the car engine and, if she looked up and to the right, she could see anyone who came to the front door.
Every part of her body felt poised and ready to run, adrenaline pulsing through her veins, and yet she felt immobilised with fear.
What if she left? But what if she stayed?
Alison watched the rectangle of pale sunshine move slowly across the cream carpet and she sat very still, unable to choose.