Apple of My Eye

I’m aware of my mother’s footsteps on the oak stairs.

‘I don’t know if I can believe you,’ I say, and it’s out there in a way that I can’t take back. The trust between us dented.

‘Don’t you shout at my daughter.’ My mother’s voice cuts through. Steely. Ice-like. The voice she uses when it’s clear she’ll countenance no nonsense whatsoever. ‘She’s pregnant and exhausted and all this stress doesn’t help.’

He blinks at her. He’s not used to my mother telling him what to do.

‘I didn’t cheat on her, Angela,’ he says. ‘I don’t know how to get that through to her. To you both.’

‘You have to understand how this looks,’ she says, her voice softer now. ‘If it were reversed, wouldn’t you feel vulnerable? You weren’t here and what happened last night was terrifying.’ She shudders.

He sags again. ‘You’ve no idea how much I regret not being here last night, regret that you both went through that. But I don’t know how to prove that I’m telling the truth.’ He turns to me. ‘You can go through my things if you want, Eli. My phone, my computer, my bank statements and credit card statements. You can do whatever you need to reassure yourself that I’m telling the truth.’

For a moment I contemplate it, but it would just damage us more, wouldn’t it? It would show a complete lack of faith in him and us. I shake my head wearily.

I can see the exhaustion on Martin’s face, can feel what little energy I have left drain from my body. I sit on the edge of the bed and put my head in my hands. A wave of nausea washes over me.

A hand is on my knee. I’m aware of someone in front of me. I don’t know if it’s my mum or Martin. I don’t know who I want it to be. I just want to get through the next minute without being sick.

‘Eli.’ His voice. Soft. Breaking. ‘I wish I could explain all this to you. But all I can do is tell you, and tell you again and again and as many times as you need to hear it, that this is all some sick fabrication.’

‘Are you okay, Eli?’ My mother’s voice cuts in.

I raise a hand to signal that I am, although of course I’m not. If I just have a little lie-down, maybe I’ll feel better. I pull myself back on the bed, rest my head on the pillow.

‘Just a moment,’ I say, ‘until the sickness passes.’

‘Have you taken your tablet?’ Martin asks.

I nod, my eyes closed. Concentrating on trying to feel well.

‘She gets sick if she’s stressed,’ I hear him say to my mother.

‘I know. None of this is good for her,’ my mother says as if I’m not in the room.

In that second I wish she wasn’t here. I wish that Martin would lie down on the bed beside me and we could talk about what’s really going on.

But maybe it’s all gone beyond that now. Things have been said. I’ve admitted I doubt him. I’ve admitted I’m struggling with this pregnancy. It’s all out of control.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Louise

Once I found my focus, it proved relatively easy to track them both down. That was the thing with living in that part of the world. Everyone knows everyone’s business and while that had been a curse to me as everything was falling apart, I could see that, as I put everything back together again, it was also a blessing.

It wasn’t hard to find out where they worked and, more importantly, where they lived. The leafy suburbs, of course. I should’ve known. They’d that look about them. Well-groomed, professional people. In a nice house, with loads of greenery nearby. Fields to run through. Streams to wade through. Trees to climb. I was sure they already had plans to build a tree house. I imagined they’d have a swing in that big garden. The perfect childhood awaited their perfect baby.

But money can’t buy love. There was nothing to say that just because they had a nice house in a nice area they’d be good parents. I watched them, you see. I saw how early he went to work. How he came back late.

She worked long hours, too. And they weren’t swamped with visitors. If I didn’t take this baby, who’d end up watching her? Would she just spend her days amusing herself on her state-of-the-art swing, with no one to push her? No one to feed her imagination. To have teddy bears’ picnics in the tree house with.

The house looked too well kept for finger-painting and messy play. Their routine too regimented. I saw it all. I saw her bring home takeaway dinners. Children need fresh, home-prepared food. It didn’t have to cost the earth. A lot of people make that mistake.

A child needs love and attention and to be nurtured and nourished. I had all the love in the world to give and so much more. Cruelty would’ve been leaving this baby with those people who’d never be home for her.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Eli

Although the heating is on full blast, the atmosphere downstairs is frosty.

My mother carries a plate of mashed potato and gravy to the dining table, which she’s served for me, then she nods to Martin that he can help himself. She looks at me as he retreats to plate up his dinner and tilts her head to one side – international sign language for ‘Are you okay?’ I nod, shrug my shoulders and look at the food in front of me. I still don’t feel like eating.

‘Are you not eating, Mum?’ I ask as I sit down.

‘I’ll eat later,’ she says. ‘I think the stress of the last twenty-four hours is catching up with me. I feel done in.’

She does look tired. Pale even. She’s not elderly. She’s only sixty-two, but at times her vulnerability shows. I realise it’s been exceptionally selfish of me to leave her here all day to deal with SOCO and the glaziers on her own, even if she insisted she was more than okay to do so.

‘Oh, Mum, you’ve gone to all this effort.’

‘I can have some tomorrow for sure,’ she says. ‘Look, I’m going to take a cup of tea up to bed with me, if that’s okay. Give you young ones space to talk.’

‘You don’t have to go on our account,’ Martin says. ‘Look, Angela, I’m so sorry you’ve been caught up in all this. And I understand that your loyalty 100 per cent has to be to Eli, but I promised you a long time ago that I’d never hurt her and you have to believe me when I say that’s still true. I’ve decided I won’t go away again. Not while this is happening. Someone else can take over at work for a bit.’

I’m taken aback. This project is his. He won the bid, worked on it from the ground up. It’s nearly there and I know he wants to see it through to completion.

‘I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I’m all in,’ he says.

My mother nods, pulls her cardigan a little tighter around her.

‘This is between you two,’ she says. ‘I like to think I’m a good judge of character, Martin, and I’d very much like to believe you’re telling both of us the truth. Eli deserves only good things, and so does this baby. I know you young ones face different pressures these days, but the key is to keep working at it.’

‘We will,’ he says earnestly. ‘And I’ll be on to the police again and again until they find out who’s responsible. I won’t go away until all this is sorted. I won’t leave her vulnerable here alone again.’

She gives him one of her smiles. It’s a start.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Eli

Sunday brunch is usually a relaxed affair, but there’s an awkward silence as we sit around the table picking at the food Martin’s made for us. We’re all being perfectly polite to each other, but it feels scripted.

We’re all wounded and tired.

I sit peeling flaky pastry from a croissant I’m not going to eat while my mother nibbles at a piece of toast. Martin’s doing his best to tuck into his eggs and bacon, but everything feels off.

‘I’ve been thinking.’ My mother speaks and both Martin and I look at her. ‘Somebody somewhere is probably just jealous and trying to throw a spanner in the works. I think you have to trust in each other to put this right.’

Martin and I glance at each other.

‘Trust in each other,’ she says. ‘Listen to each other.’

She smiles and we smile back, tight, forced. It’ll take more than words to fix this.

‘I was thinking I might head back to Belfast today,’ she says. ‘Since Martin’s here. I’d say you two need your time alone. You certainly don’t need an old dear like me getting under your feet.’

‘Don’t feel you have to go,’ Martin says, but I know he’s already mentally packing her bags.

‘I don’t feel I have to, but I think it would be right to.’

I don’t know how I feel about that. It’s been nice to have her here – even if my entire world has been spinning out of control these last few days. I chide myself. I’m a grown woman, for the love of God. I shouldn’t be so pathetic. I force a smile onto my face.

‘Well, I suppose you want to get back to your evening classes and all and your work.’

‘Well, work is a good bit quieter these days. The need for me isn’t what it was before all those stupid accounting computer programmes,’ she says, ‘but I do have some stuff to catch up on. That said, Eli, you know that I’m here for you whenever you need me. And you too, Martin.’ That last bit sounds less convincing.

If the truth be told, I could do with them both being out of my hair to give me space to think about everything, but then again, I don’t want to be alone. I feel even more vulnerable now, in this house where people can break windows. I’ve never felt unsafe here before. I’ve thrived on the seclusion of our home, felt we were untouchable in many ways. Maybe I’m being punished by the karma gods for being smug.

Everything, except for work, is developing rough edges and I want to find and hit a pause button. I put the croissant, still untouched, back on my plate and get up. I need a little air, so I walk out onto our decking. The coldness of the morning forces an intake of breath and I pull my cardigan tightly around myself, over my bump, then cross my arms and walk across the deck to the edge of the lake.

It’s a crisp morning. There’s a glint of frost where the dew would normally twinkle. There’s something almost magical-looking about it. This dream house in a dream location. I let the cool air fill my lungs again and again until I feel two strong hands on my shoulders, the comfort of Martin’s presence behind me. I lean back into him.

‘What do you need me to do, Eli?’ he asks. ‘To fix this. Just tell me.’

‘If I knew who was behind these notes, I’d feel better. It’s the not knowing.’

‘I’ve been racking my brains but I can’t think of anyone who’d take against either of us. There are no aggrieved clients in my past as far as I know and you, well … it goes without saying, who could be angry enough at you to do something like this? It doesn’t make sense. I’m at a loss.’

He pulls me tighter. Kisses the top of my head. I try to react as I normally would, enjoy the intimacy, but something is cracked between us.

‘Look, I need to call Jim. Tell him to take over the London job going forwards. He’s expecting me back tonight, so I need to warn him to gen up for the presentation. Send him my notes, that kind of thing.’

I feel guilty. And worried. This is his pet project and my distrust is keeping him from seeing it through to the end. Am I being incredibly selfish? Will he end up resenting me over this? It could fracture things between us further. If I let him go, will he believe that I want to trust him, after all? Will it help to fix things between us? I’ve always been a peacemaker. A people-pleaser. I’ll tie myself up into tiny knots so as not to offend anyone.

‘Go to London,’ I say, my voice not more than a whisper.

‘What?’

‘Go to London. See this project through. I’ll ask Mum to stay.’

‘Eli, no. I don’t want you here alone until we know who’s behind this.’

‘I won’t be here alone. Mum’ll be here.’

‘And those notes, you do believe me, don’t you? If you need me to stay and work through this with you, I will.’

His green eyes are set on me. I hear his words but I know where his heart lies at the moment.

So I tie myself up into another little knot and I lie. I tell him I believe him. I tell him there will be time to work through it all properly when he gets back.

‘I swear, Eli. I swear on my life. I swear on our baby’s life, you’ve no reason not to trust me,’ he says.

‘Then go,’ I say.

A part of me is hoping he says no. Hopes that he’ll stay anyway. That part of me is soon disappointed. He kisses the top of my head again, tells me he loves me and darts off across the decking.

‘I’ll just confirm my travel arrangements then,’ he calls to the wind as he goes.

In the silence of the morning at the edge of the lake, not a person around to disturb me, I try not to feel hurt by the speed of his departure. I mentally try not to file it into the big paranoia folder in my head.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Louise

I’ve thought about her husband a lot. That handsome man who hugged her in the café. Who joked with her and made her smile, even though she’d looked so lost before he arrived.

I knew his name. It ran through my head on a loop. I’d say it just to see how it sounded. I wrote it down then scribbled it out. I couldn’t risk leaving any connection, but I did feel a connection. He’d be the father of my child, after all.

I wanted to know as much about him as I could. What he did. What he liked. How he spent his free time. What books he read and what movies he watched. Was he excited about the baby his wife was carrying? The baby who’d be mine. Would he have been a hands-on kind of dad? Was he one of those ‘new men’ types – not afraid to change a nappy or push a pram?

I thought I might ask her a little about him when I next saw her. Slip it into the conversation casually. ‘Your husband must be excited?’ I’d ask. It’s possible she’d offer me something to go on. A little insight into his life and his personality.

He’d looked like a good man. Peter had been a good man. He’d been a good husband to me. He’d have made a brilliant father to our children, if life hadn’t been so cruel.

God never gives you any more than you can handle, I reminded myself. He must have thought I could handle an awful lot. Peter – he wasn’t up to God’s test.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Eli

My mother reacts just as I’d expect when I tell her Martin’s going back to London. She looks at me as if I’ve lost the plot, even though all along she’s been assuring me she doesn’t think there’s any truth in those horrible notes.

‘Are you sure you don’t want him to stay?’ she says. ‘Did he say something to you to influence you to let him go?’

‘No, Mum,’ I say. ‘I just realise if I trust him I have to prove that I trust him and this is one way to do that.’

‘Hmm.’ She eyes me. ‘He should be the one proving things to you, though.’

‘I think we both need to work on that and let the police work on finding out the truth of what’s going on.’

‘And being here, without him, while all this is going on? Are you not scared?’

I am, of course I am, but I don’t want to let whoever’s behind this win. I don’t want them to know they’re scaring me.

‘Sure, but I have you,’ I say with a forced smile. ‘Haven’t you always kept me safe? Haven’t you always told me that a mama bear protects her baby bears? You’ll stay with me, won’t you?’

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