Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
‘I’d better get on and leave you to your rest,’ Lina says, standing abruptly and heading for the landing.
Assuming she’s leaving, I give her a moment, then make my way unsteadily after her.
Hearing the sound of the front door closing, relief floods through me and I grab my phone and hurry to the bathroom.
Turning on the tap, I cup my trembling hands under it and glug cold water.
Perspiration wets my forehead and, catching my reflection in the mirror, I realise my complexion is pale to the point of grey.
What on earth is wrong with me? Surely I shouldn’t feel this ill?
I’m drained, emotionally and physically.
Deciding to make a doctor’s appointment, I make my way back along the landing to the stairs. Then falter. I can hear music drifting up from the kitchen. But Lina couldn’t have switched the radio on. She’d already left. Hadn’t she?
Is she playing psychological games with me?
My blood grows cold as I recall her comment just now – We don’t want you falling down those stairs, do we?
– the look on her face as she’d said it.
Did she hope I did have an accident, preferably a fatal one, before the wills I stupidly spoke to her about were drawn up, thus securing her future?
Jack is right. If anyone is a danger to me, it’s her.
My hand strays to my belly as the baby kicks softly, then more violently. Suddenly my phone rings, jolting me. Jack’s name flashes up.
‘Hey,’ he says softly. ‘I left it a while in case you were sleeping. How are you?’
‘Okay,’ I lie. ‘Worried about Lina.’
‘You and me both.’ He blows out an irritated sigh. ‘I suppose Evie’s still with her?’
‘No. She went out,’ I reply vaguely, unsure I should tell him where she’s gone.
‘Out?’ Jack sounds wary. ‘Out where?’
I debate, then, guessing I have no choice, answer cautiously. ‘To see Imogen, or so Lina said. She left without—’
‘Imogen?’ Jack cuts across me. ‘Why the hell would she do that after what happened between them?’
Noting the alarm in his voice, my heart misses a beat. ‘I’m not sure. They must have spoken on the phone. I’ve tried to get hold of her, but she’s not picking up.’
‘Jesus,’ Jack mutters. ‘Look, there’s not much I can do here until the electrician comes tomorrow. I’m on my way back. I’ll try calling her myself. Can you let me know if you manage to get hold of her before I do?’
‘I will,’ I promise. ‘See you shortly. Make sure to…’ Drive carefully, I was about to say when I realise he’s ended the call.
Feeling confused and utterly jaded, I go downstairs and head for the window that looks over the annexe. As I peer out, I notice a silhouette gliding past the voiles at Lina’s lounge window. I’m about to step away when it reappears, startling me. Is she spying on me?
Wondering whether I might be going out of my mind, and desperately in need of someone to talk to, I hurry to the kitchen to turn the damn radio off, then call Jemma, who picks up straight away, thankfully.
‘Hi, Kara, how are you?’ she says, and I’ve never been more grateful to hear a friendly voice.
‘Okay,’ I answer hesitantly.
‘You don’t sound very sure,’ Jemma says warily. ‘What’s wrong, sweetheart?’
‘Nothing,’ I respond. Then, ‘Everything,’ I blurt, and burst into tears.
‘Oh no, Kara. It’s not Jack, is it?’ she asks worriedly. ‘He hasn’t—’
‘No, no. It’s not Jack,’ I assure her. ‘It’s Lina. She’s implying all sorts about him and… I don’t know what to do, Jemma. I feel as if I’m going mad.’
‘Okay, breathe in, sweetheart,’ she encourages me gently. ‘Deep breaths and then talk to me.’
I try, but I can’t seem to draw air past the lump in my chest. ‘She’s insisting he cheated on Natalia,’ I continue tremulously after a moment.
‘She’s even saying he’s cheating on me. She’s convinced he had something to do with Natalia’s death, because he wanted custody of Evie, because he thought he could gain financially.
Nothing he says will convince her otherwise.
She’s influencing Evie too.’ It all comes rushing out now I’ve started.
‘Evie seems to be furious with Jack, and he doesn’t know what to do, how to handle it. I have no idea how to handle it.’
Jemma hesitates before answering. ‘Do you think he’s capable of any of the things she’s accusing him of? Honestly?’ she asks carefully.
I’m about to say I don’t know when a stark image assaults me – the dream I’d had, Natalia’s stricken face as the locket was snatched from her neck, Jack holding it in his hand – and my mind thinks the unthinkable: that she might actually have been wearing it on the night she went overboard.
‘I’m having nightmares,’ I confide. ‘I keep seeing Natalia. Jack standing over her when she falls. And she’s wearing a locket.
A locket that’s here in my house and which Jack swears she wasn’t wearing.
I see her shoe, too. It has blood on it and…
It’s as if my dreams are trying to tell me something, and I don’t know what to think any more. ’
‘Okay. Firstly, slow down,’ Jemma says, her tone firm but kind.
‘Your mind is racing. We’ve talked about this before, remember?
When you spoke to me about the nightmares you were having about Mark and Kai?
You were stressed and upset, just as you are now.
You’re dwelling on things Lina has told you, which isn’t surprising.
Do you recall how we talked about dreams being indicative of preoccupation with a person or event?
They don’t necessarily mean anything or indicate the person’s true nature.
The dreams are not prophecies or dire warnings.
They’re simply your brain’s mechanism for processing emotions. ’
‘I know,’ I concede. ‘But they’re just so real.’
‘Have you spoken to Jack about all of this?’ Jemma asks.
‘Not really. We’ve barely had time to talk since Lina…’ I trail off as I hear Jack’s Land Rover pulling up on the drive. ‘Can I call you back tomorrow, Jem? He’s just arrived.’
‘His ears were obviously burning,’ Jemma jokes. ‘No problem,’ she adds. ‘I’m always here. Give him my regards.’
‘I will. Thanks for your shoulder. It’s so appreciated.’
‘That’s what friends are for,’ she assures me.
Ending the call, I hurry to the hall and open the front door, then pause as my phone rings. It’s Evie.
Quickly, I answer it, and my blood turns to ice in my veins. ‘Kara, can you come and fetch me? I’m so scared,’ she murmurs, her voice that of a frightened child.
I clutch my phone tighter. ‘Evie, what is it?’
‘It’s Immy.’ She gasps out a breath. ‘She’s dead.’