* * *
• • •
I ended the call quickly, wanting time to think, and then Sean banged on the door to ask whether Gill had agreed to the locks. All the while I behaved like usual and thanked him when he’d finished. As soon as he got into his van, I bolted the front door and hurried up the stairs to my flat. I checked every room. I didn’t feel safe. I didn’t think I ever would again.
Despite the heat of the day I was cold and shivering. I lit the gas fire in the living room and crouched beside it, my mind in free fall.
Tom had been in my flat. I knew that now. He’d got himself a key and come into my home. He’d moved my clothes and made coffee, knowing it would drive me crazy. I shuddered. He’d been there in the middle of the night. He’d come into my bedroom. He’d taken my scarf, taken it from my pillow. What would he have done if I’d woken?
I took out my phone and scrolled through the blocked numbers. There were so many of them. Calls asking for sex. Shaming me. Was Tom behind that, too? He’d never admit it. I knew now he hated me. I think I knew that even when we were together. He must have been furious that I’d left him. And he’d sent messages again and again, lovely messages, as though he cared for me, while I was getting those calls from strangers. I was so glad I hadn’t told him about them, so glad he’d never known how much they’d upset me.
I had no one to talk to. No one to confide in. Tom’s work was done. He’d isolated me from people, made me think I was going mad. He told me he loved me but did everything he could to hurt me.
I found his number on my Recent Calls list. I couldn’t trust myself to speak to him, so sent him a message.
Tom, are you working from home today? I need to talk to you.
I hesitated, then added a kiss at the end of my message.
CHAPTER 63
Emma
The next night, Harry came home later than usual. I was sitting at the table typing an e-mail to a client and he leaned over and gave me a quick kiss.
“What are you up to?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing. Just confirming a finish date.”
Quickly I closed the laptop lid and stood up. It would be just my luck to get a message from the DNA clinic while Harry was sitting next to me.
“I was driving back from Birmingham this morning when I had a call from Henry Mathers in Nantwich,” he said. “He asked if I’d call in for a chat. His office is in the market square right next to a cake shop so I bought some cakes for people at work.” He put a box tied up with ribbons on the kitchen table. “And I couldn’t miss you out.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Eagerly I opened the box and looked down at the beautifully glazed strawberry tart, the perfect pastel macarons, and the chocolate éclair with fresh cream spilling from it, but instead of my mouth watering with anticipation, I turned from them.
“I thought they were the ones you liked,” said Harry.
“They are.” I pushed the box away from me. “They look gorgeous. Thanks for bringing them. It’s just this sickness. I can’t wait for it to stop.” I couldn’t tell him that now I felt sick because I was being bullied by Ruby’s husband.
I got up from the table to pour some water from the fridge. Iced water seemed to be the only thing that helped the nausea. Harry stood, too, and wrapped his arms around me. I breathed in the safe familiar smell of his cologne, felt his heart beating against mine. He kissed me on the cheek but somehow it seemed automatic. I pulled back to look at him. His face was pale and strained and he looked distracted. It reminded me so much of how he was before I discovered I was pregnant, and my heart fell. Was his recent change of mood over? I couldn’t bear to go back to the way we were.
“Are you all right?” I asked anxiously. “Everything okay at work?”
“I’m fine.” He stretched out his arms and sighed. “It was just a busy day. All I want to do is to relax.”
“Come and sit down. Fancy a beer?”
We sat at the kitchen table and he had a beer and I had water while he ate one of my cakes. That was inevitable. All I could think of was my phone, on vibrate in my jeans pocket, as I waited for an e-mail to come through about the DNA of my baby. I knew it was too late for them to contact me but I couldn’t turn it off just in case. I had to know the very second there was news.
When my phone did vibrate I nearly collapsed.
“Is that your phone?” asked Harry. He took another beer from the fridge. He had no clue what that message would mean for us.
I kept my face as still as I could and took the phone from my pocket. It was a message from Tom. Immediately I switched off my phone.
“Just work stuff,” I said. “I don’t want to think about it now.”
He gave me a quizzical look because I’d never shown such a lack of interest in work and would always answer messages in the evening.
“I’m tired,” I said. “It can wait.”
When Harry was in the shower later on, I took out my phone and stealthily checked the message. Tom had sent so many that I’d ignored: He wanted to come to the scan with me, he would be at the birth. He sent me links to cots and buggies and clothes and teddies, asking what I liked. He wanted to share everything with me.
He told me that I didn’t have to worry, he’d always be by my side.
CHAPTER 64
Emma
My eyes snapped open when Harry’s alarm went off the next morning. Today was the fifth working day after I’d been tested and I knew the results could be in that day. Though our backs were to each other, I felt him reach out to turn off the alarm. He’d changed the alarm ringtone so it played a new song every day and there was always a reference to babies. This morning it was “Baby Love” and he laughed as he heard it and rolled over to hug me. I wanted to shake him off, to warn him not to get too excited, that the baby might not be his, but how could I? I might as well let him have this one last morning of ignorance. So I lay still, pretending to be asleep, and he edged away quietly and crept out of the room, leaving me to have a bit more time to myself.
As soon as I heard the bathroom door shut, I scrabbled for my phone and checked my e-mails. Of course there was nothing. Nobody would be at work for a couple of hours at least. I wondered about the staff who worked in a clinic like that. If they sent back DNA results to say that the alleged father wasn’t the father, did they wince as they e-mailed the results, knowing the damage it could cause? Were they totally unsympathetic, thinking the woman had brought it on herself?
At that thought I hastily got up and pulled on my dressing gown. I couldn’t lie there thinking about anonymous people judging me. There would be enough people I knew doing that soon enough. Downstairs I put the radio on and started to make coffee and toast for Harry. At last I wasn’t feeling sick at the smell, though I wouldn’t be able to touch it myself. He seemed preoccupied, too, and sat at the kitchen table in silence while I made a pretense of gathering everything I needed for work. I needed to go to work early today. I knew that once I had the results I would be fit for nothing.