awake long into the night as I lay, anxious and lonely, in my bed.
I sipped the vanilla milkshake, which tasted like heaven on my tongue.
‘This is lovely, thank you,’ I said, grateful for her kindness.
It was made all the nicer by the fact that I was having it upstairs in Sheridan’s home. Our schedule had been abandoned. It was so out of keeping with how she’d treated me before; she was impossible to second-guess. I watched as Sheridan sprayed the table in OCD fashion, wiping over everything I touched. There was no sign of her entourage, and I’d overheard her saying that she had sent Leo and the nanny to a luxury pony camp for the week. A sudden thought brought a cold slice of fear. Convicts on death row got to choose their last meal, didn’t they?
I’d had Braxton Hicks contractions every day this week. Time was running out for me. Sheridan had not asked how I was feeling. She had distanced herself in a way that unnerved me.
‘I want to tell you something.’ She pulled her chair closer to the table as I finished off my cake. ‘It’s good news,’ she added, taking in my worried expression.
She opened her blazer, slipped a piece of paper from the inside pocket and slid it across the table. Slowly, my fingers crept towards it, my heart pounding as I scanned the writing. A barcode. A flight number. I held my breath. An airline ticket for a first-class flight to Dublin airport . . . and it was assigned to me. I stared in disbelief, not daring to speak for fear of breaking the spell. My name on a British Airways flight home to Dublin. I traced my fingers over the print, tears springing to my eyes. It wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be real.
‘It’s a flight home for after the baby is born.’ A smile carried on Sheridan’s words. ‘Go ahead, pick it up. It’s yours.’
I struggled to swallow. My chest felt tight with grief for my hometown. I had genuinely believed I would never see it again. I thought about my baby, the little girl she wanted me to leave behind. Was Sheridan really ready to let me go? But surely I had to stay and fight for my child?
‘I didn’t book a seat for the baby,’ Sheridan said. ‘Because you’ll be carrying her in your arms.’
‘What?’ I said, finding my voice. I slid my hand into my dress pocket and pulled out a tissue to dab my tears. My chin wobbled as part of me collapsed inside. I had built a wall to protect myself. Dare I believe my baby and I were going home?
‘Daniel’s going to be offered the part of the new James Bond,’ Sheridan explained. ‘It’ll mean being on location in Alaska. I’m moving out there with Leo to be with him.’ She flicked back her hair before delivering a winning smile. ‘Happy?’
‘Happy?’ I blinked away my tears. ‘Yes! So happy!’ I felt like hugging her, but months of ingrained mistrust kept me firmly in my chair.
‘It’s obvious you love your baby. It would be wrong for us to keep you apart.’ Sheridan’s smile seemed frozen on her face as she gushed. She stood, gesturing at me to rise. It was just like the early days, when I first arrived. ‘Why don’t we talk things through?’
It was strange, walking ahead of her to the living room. I felt like I was walking on clouds, but any moment I could go into freefall. Surely she wanted my baby too much to let her go? From the corner of my eye, I saw her pocket her phone from where she had left it on the sideboard. Had she been recording our conversation? It would explain why she was being so sickly-sweet.
I sat as instructed on the sofa, watching Sheridan’s features grow stony as she relayed the terms and conditions of our deal. I rubbed my arms, goose bumps rising on my skin. Spring sunlight sliced through the half-closed curtains, and I was dying to peek outside. I strained to hear traffic, passing music, signs of everyday life. Apart from hearing muffled voices above, life in my basement flat was like existing in a void.
I tuned in to Sheridan’s narrative as she took a seat in the armchair across from me. It was a leather wingback; Daniel’s chair. I remembered him sitting there, staring into the flames as Sheridan threw the prayer book my way. Not once had he properly