Chapter 24 Fenna – Day 6
Fenna wanders into the house, breathless from chasing Alba, trying to remember where she put her phone. She retraces her steps and goes to the downstairs bathroom. Not there. Where is it?
She is about to move to a different room when she hears a low buzzing sound.
Her phone is half hidden behind the fruit bowl on a console table in the hall.
The screen is lit up with an alert from the baby monitor app.
Fenna squints in the sunlight. There is a figure moving in her daughter’s bedroom.
The volume indicator is tilting up and down.
She frowns and sits down on the bottom step of the stairs. Everyone is outside.
At least she thought everyone was.
Rosie appears like a ghost on the black-and-white camera screen. She’s talking to someone on her phone.
It might be Fenna’s imagination but earlier she’s sure that Rosie stiffened when she questioned her about where she was last night.
‘I went to get a glass of water,’ Rosie had said, unconvincingly.
Marianne was quick to leap with an answer. ‘She joined Evelyn and I for a chat in the kitchen.’
‘Oh? I thought I saw you in the garden,’ Fenna said, intently watching Rosie’s reaction.
‘In the garden?’ Marianne laughed. ‘I know you’re shattered, Fen, are you sure you’re not seeing things?’
Rosie laughed too, as if this was an absurd suggestion.
Fenna’s hand had curled into a fist under the table. She knows what she saw. Doesn’t she? What if her mind is conjuring up images? There is no reason why Rosie would be wandering around in the garden alone. At night. And yet . . .
Fenna holds her phone closer to her ear.
‘I hate lying to him . . .’
Paulo whistles as he drags something heavy through the back door, the sound cutting out whatever Rosie said next. Her voice is low, as if she’s whispering. Clearly she doesn’t want anyone to hear this conversation. Doesn’t she know there’s a baby monitor in the room?
Who is she talking to? Or more to the point, who is she lying to? Fenna turns the volume up and holds her breath to hear better. Every muscle is tense.
Paulo’s whistling gets louder. She grits her teeth.
‘. . . Maybe I should never have come here. This wasn’t supposed to happen.’
There is a crackle then silence.
***
Fenna gets herself a glass of water from the kitchen. Rosie’s ‘admission’ has unsettled her. Raffi is nestled in the stretchy wrap baby sling attached to her chest, she hoped it would help him drift off. He has been cranky from the moment he woke this morning.
Plinky, plonky melancholy classical music echoes down the hallway. She thought the piano in the drawing room was for show. Who’s playing it? She steps closer to where the sound is coming from, each note growing louder. Raffi blinks his eyes, alert to the song.
The door is slightly ajar. Fenna pushes it open. Her footsteps are drowned out by the crescendo. Sitting at the piano – head bent, eyes closed – is Marianne. She must sense that she’s no longer alone as she snaps her hands away from the keys.
The silence is worse than the music.
‘That was beautiful,’ Fenna lies, taken aback by how exhausted her mother-in-law looks.
Marianne pushes her stool away to stand. It makes a painful scraping sound over the tiles. She turns her back to Fenna, pulling a tissue from her pocket to wipe her nose.
‘I didn’t mean to disturb you. I wondered if I could have a word, but if you’re busy . . .’ Fenna trails out, wishing she’d not interrupted what is clearly an emotional moment. ‘I’ll leave you alone.’
‘Is everything ok? The children alright?’ Marianne asks, nodding at Raffi, her voice stringier than normal. She coughs. ‘Excuse me, my hay fever is playing up again.’
‘Yep, they’re fine. But don’t worry, I’ll catch you later.’
‘You’re here now.’ Marianne pushes open a window. It cracks the tension and brings in welcome fresh air. ‘What did you want to talk about?’
‘Rosie,’ Fenna says.
‘Rosie?’ Marianne frowns. ‘Has something happened?’
‘No, well, I . . .’ She takes a breath. ‘There’s something about her that makes me uneasy.’ Fenna folds her arms. ‘The family photo albums are in her room and—’
‘Yes, I gave them to her. Why? Is that a problem?’
‘No . . . I . . .’ she stutters.
Should she tell her about Rosie’s notebook?
But she’ll have to lie about how she found it.
Marianne doesn’t believe that Fenna saw Rosie wandering around the garden last night.
She probably won’t listen to her concerns about what she overheard on the baby monitor.
She presumed Roise was referring to Theo with the comment about how she hates lying to him, but she didn’t catch the start of the conversation.
It could be completely innocent. The thing is, she didn’t say anything that can be used as evidence. And yet . . .
‘Fenna,’ Marianne sighs. ‘Not everyone is out to get you. Remember how eager you were to impress us when we first met? You were nervous, exactly how Rosie is now. It doesn’t mean there’s any malice. Unless she’s done something specific to make you uneasy, I can’t help you.’
There’s a drawn-out pause. Raffi wriggles against her chest. A tiny foot kicks her ribcage.
Marianne tilts her head. ‘This isn’t about Rosie, is it?’
‘What? Yes—’
‘Luke told me you were finding things tough, going from one to two. Maybe you’re projecting this onto Rosie. Feeling threatened a little?’
Fenna shakes her head. ‘No . . . it’s not that, I—’
‘There’s been a lot of change in your life recently. It’s ok to feel out of control.’ She simpers. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look exhausted. It’s not fair on the children to get yourself in this state.’
‘I’m fine.’ She clenches her jaw. ‘I’m not in a state.’
Why isn’t she listening to her?
‘Go and have a lie down. Raffi needs his mother to be rested. This is your holiday too. Alba’s with Luke, she’s fine.’
It’s infuriating that Marianne won’t take her seriously but perhaps she is right. Maybe if Fenna had more sleep she would have a clearer head. She could figure things out easier?
‘Fenna? Earth to Fenna?’ Marianne waves a hand in front of her face, making her jump. She was miles away. ‘You’re spilling your water.’
She looks down at where she’s pointing. A wet patch has appeared on the hem of her maxi skirt from the glass that’s tilted in her hands. Raffi blinks up at her and she is overwhelmed with guilt that she’s letting him down.
‘Maybe you’re right,’ she reluctantly agrees.
A nap does sound good.
‘Good girl. I’ll help Luke watch the children.’
‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’ Fenna chews her lip. ‘Raffi will need feeding in about an hour or so, but I’ll be back before then.’
‘Please, go and take all the time you need. Don’t worry about us.’
Fenna hands over Raffi and his changing bag.
She wants to leave a list of instructions, but Marianne tells her she will be offended if she thinks she can’t manage to look after a baby when she raised two herself.
So Fenna gives her son a kiss and does as she’s ordered.
Everything inside aches. No wonder terrorists use sleep deprivation as a form of torture.
Though Fenna hates to admit it, Marianne might be right. Sleep could be exactly what she needs.
She walks upstairs, hovering outside Rosie and Theo’s room. Part of her wants to go inside and have a look for clues. Stop being paranoid. There is nothing wrong with his fiancée. She carries on walking to her bedroom, the enticing crisp white sheets drawing her in.
It’s a matter of seconds before she’s fast asleep.