Chapter 51
FIFTY-ONE
NATALIA
Satisfied that Kara’s okay after checking her breathing again, I find Evie’s number.
My hands tremble as I place the call. Will she answer if she thinks it’s Kara calling?
She and Kara haven’t exactly been close of late.
According to Lina, Evie’s turning against her, as I’d hoped she might.
I’m her mother, the only one who really knows her, who can help her.
She picks up after a moment, answering with a weary ‘Hello,’ and my heart almost stops beating.
‘Hello?’ she says again when I find myself incapable of speaking.
She sounds exactly the same, feisty and frightened all rolled into one.
There will be so many other emotions roiling inside her she’s no hope of understanding without the help of someone who cares, as I do.
Not seeing her since I arrived back in the UK other than from a distance, not being able to tell her I’m alive, to hold or comfort her, has crucified me.
‘Kara, do you want something?’ she asks, exasperated. ‘I’m busy right now, so—’
‘It’s not Kara,’ I blurt, fearing she’ll cut the call.
There’s nothing but silence the other end for an excruciatingly long moment, then, ‘Who is this?’ she whispers.
I take a huge breath. ‘It’s me, Evie,’ I say, swallowing hard. ‘It’s Mum.’
She takes an eternity to respond, then, ‘I don’t know what’s going on here but I’m not doing this,’ she says, and the line goes dead.
‘Shit!’ I stare at the phone through tear-filled eyes. I’m about to text her when it rings, causing me to start. Seeing it’s her, I hit call receive. ‘Evie, please let me speak,’ I beg. ‘I know you must be upset and confused, but it is me, I promise you.’
‘Prove it,’ she shoots back.
I rack my brains for something she’ll relate to. ‘My snuggle toy,’ I seize on. ‘My Peter Rabbit. I gave him to you when you were having a bad dream. You said he looked sad and you wanted to give him lots of love to make him smile.’
There follows another heavy silence, then, ‘What do you want?’ she asks bluntly.
I squeeze my eyes closed, fail to stop the tears from falling. ‘Just to see you,’ I reply tremulously.
‘You could have seen me any time,’ she fires back furiously. ‘What do you want?’
‘To talk to you,’ I say quickly. ‘To explain. Try to,’ I add, hopefully. ‘Will you let me?’
‘Start talking,’ she hisses, with bitter-edged anger.
I falter. I can’t bear to lie to her, but I have to.
I can’t let her go back to the house. ‘I’m at work right now, in between patients,’ I tell her.
‘I’m running late, which is why I called.
I’m not sure I’ll make it for three o’clock.
I was hoping you would meet me a bit later, at a café somewhere perhaps? ’
I wait as she pauses agonisingly again.
‘Where?’ she asks eventually.
‘Costa Coffee in about an hour?’ I suggest. ‘Is that okay?’
‘I suppose,’ she agrees reluctantly. ‘How will I know you?’
That hurts. I’m sure she meant it to. Clearly she’s hinting that she’s forgotten me. ‘I’m wearing a grey jacket and jeans,’ I answer without commenting. She’s entitled to every bit of her anger. ‘Look forward to seeing you then.’
She ends the call abruptly and I feel sick to my soul.
I’m sending her on a wild goose chase. What kind of mother does that?
What kind of mother watches her child from a distance, making no contact with her?
A desperate one. A woman who’s determined to get her child back but who knows her husband will make damn sure she stands no chance.
No, as much as I want to, I can’t meet her yet.
I need to do what I have to do first. I need to get her away from the house to somewhere she’ll be safe.
After pushing the phone back into the pocket of the woman who’d tried to take my place in my daughter’s life, I help her to standing.
Once she’s reasonably steady on her feet, I walk her to the door and, fervently hoping that the repulsive landlord spends his eternity in one of his own vermin-infested flats, guide her to the landing.
With her arm around my neck, progress down the stairs is tricky, but after pausing halfway down to rest, we manage it. I’m surprised when she mumbles, ‘Evie,’ as I manoeuvre her into the car, proving that she really does care about her. I have to give her kudos for that.
I drive fast once we’re under way, but carefully, since I have no documents for the car.
If I get stopped, it will lead the police straight to the dead body propped in the armchair.
After checking there are no vehicles parked on her drive, I carry on a short distance and park in a disused farm entrance well away from the house.
Also well away from Jemma’s house. I don’t want to alert her to my presence.
Hurrying to get Kara out, I help her stumblingly along the lane, then use the spare key my mother took from their key rack to gain access.
‘Evie,’ she murmurs again, as I unhook her weight from my neck and allow her to plop down on the sofa. ‘Where is she?’
‘She’s fine. Meeting someone in Birmingham,’ I answer, wanting her to know that no harm has, or will, come to her.
I love Evie with my bones. Once I’d realised that by some miracle I’d survived a fall that should have killed me, Evie and her future was what focused me.
I was bruised badly, internally and externally, but I wasn’t broken.
I wasn’t beaten. I would make Jack pay. I would get home using whatever womanly wiles I had.
I would get Evie back, although I knew it wouldn’t be easy with Jack claiming I was insane, my apparent second ‘suicide attempt’ lending validity to his claim.
‘Where’s Lina?’ she asks, glancing confusedly at me.
That surprises me. It seems she cares about her, too, despite all she’s put her through. Did anyone ever tell her, I wonder, that she’s too caring for her own good? ‘Next door in the annexe,’ I provide, not wanting to dwell on the subject of my mother.
‘I need to talk to her,’ she mumbles. ‘I need to know that Evie is—’
‘She’s sleeping!’ I snap. ‘Blissfully, I imagine, since I was forced to inject her with a little something to keep her quiet,’ I add, thinking it a good opportunity to remind her she’d better not try anything smart.
She looks at me aghast. ‘She’s sick,’ she says, as if I’m not aware of this fact.
‘I know she is, but not quite as sick in the head as Jack would have you believe. Just like he tried to make you believe I was sick in the head. I’m not. He is.’ I jab at my temple to emphasise that fact.
She recoils, clearly concluding that I actually am mad, which suits my purpose. The more dangerous she thinks I am, the better. Hopefully her fear will make her compliant.
‘I did feel bad about injecting her.’ I sigh sorrowfully as I walk across to survey the standard lamp.
Satisfied that it will do, I bend to tug the plug from the wall and then tip the lamp over.
‘Whoops, sorry.’ I smile in her direction as it crashes to the floor, causing her to jump, then lean to rip the wire from beneath it.
She’s scared. I note her petrified gaze as I walk back towards her, flexing the wire between my hands. Good.
‘She did help me,’ I ruminate for a moment as I stand over her.
‘Selling her house to fund my new identity, doing everything I asked of her thereafter.’ Out of guilt, I remind myself.
Because she’s concerned for Evie. She was never concerned for me.
Even on the day I stuck Derek the pig and told her why, she wasn’t concerned for me. She called me a liar.
‘He touches me,’ I protested. ‘He follows me around. He cornered me in my bedroom.’
‘Liar!’ she cried. ‘Why would you say those things? What is wrong with you?’
I stood dumbfounded as my loving mother ran a despairing gaze over me. That was when I saw the flash of guilt in her eyes. She knew. She knew and she was defending him.
I’ve no doubt she blamed me for Derek leaving her for a woman half his age.
She thinks she’s fooled me into believing she’s making amends now.
Yes, she’s confused, forgetful sometimes, meaning I have to keep explaining just how manipulative Jack is, what he’d done.
What drove me to do what I need to do now.
All the while, though, she’s probably scheming for a way to get me out of Evie’s life.
It won’t work. I’m onto her. I’m onto them all.
The anger that’s festered inside me simmers dangerously.
My downward spiral into depression, my subsequent manipulability because I’d simply wanted someone to love me had all been because of her.
Does she really think I will ever forgive her that?
‘What is it you want?’ Kara asks, her voice a terrified whisper.
I ignore her. I would have thought it was perfectly obvious what I want. ‘She told me I need help.’ I confide that much. ‘I survive my husband’s attempt to murder me and she tells me I need help. My own mother. You’d think she would have tried to be in my corner for once, wouldn’t you?’
‘What are you going to do?’ Kara shrinks away from me as I test the wire for strength.
‘Did she really imagine I would place myself at the mercy of mental health services again?’ I ask with a bemused eye-roll. ‘There was no way on God’s green earth I was ever going to do that. I never needed help. It’s Jack who has issues. I told her over and over. Just like she told you.’
There’s nothing but horror and deep incredulity in her eyes.
‘You still don’t believe it, do you?’ I ask, growing agitated now at her blind trust in people. ‘You will, when he admits to everything. Hands,’ I instruct. ‘Behind your back.’