she hadn’t imagined the awkwardness between Seamus and Roz. It was only when Roz had announced her pregnancy that everything had fallen into place. Dympna pictured the baby, a little miniature Seamus running around the flat. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She snuffled, tears drizzling down the side of her face as she lay on her side. She was reading a lot into something that she knew very little about, but fear had taken root inside her. She could not bear to lose both her boyfriend and her best friend.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ROZ
I lay back on the sofa, listening to the celebrations taking place on the floor above. Sheridan had already informed me that she was breaking the news to her closest friends and cautioned me not to venture up. As if. The warning had been redundant, as she had yet to give me a lift pass. I could barely believe that not only were Daniel Watson and Sheridan Sinclair upstairs, but now, so was Adam Weiss. I had yet to step out of the sense of surreality that had cloaked me since my arrival.
At least I’d found time to give Dympna a quick ring. I hadn’t told her there was darkness to my arrival, an edge to Sheridan’s behaviour that made me feel afraid.
I looked again at the schedule Sheridan had given me. My day was broken up into three blocks. Morning consisted of medication, meditation and something called birth affirmations. After that came pregnancy stretches and drinking copious amounts of water. Then it was time for my breakfast of kale juice, muesli and fresh fruit. The afternoon schedule was much the same: a twenty-minute walk on the treadmill was followed by a lunch of ‘pregnancy superfood’. My downtime consisted of reading and researching natural births. Even my ‘afternoon nap’ was timed. My evenings consisted of more supplements, pregnancy yoga, then birth affirmations as part of what Sheridan called her ‘body and mind’ routine. My spirits plummeted. Every day, every hour was accounted for.
I scanned the rest of the sheet to see what was termed ‘morale boosters’. They consisted of time watching TV or a creative pursuit. But there was nothing in the schedule about going outside. Did she plan on keeping me hidden away for the next six months? My apartment was luxurious, but without windows I had no sense of time. I could be anywhere in the world. I turned the page, blurting a laugh.
‘She’s not serious . . .’ I said aloud, scanning Dr Blumberg’s appointments for weight and body measurements, spit and urine samples and once-a-month blood tests. But most mortifying of all was that I had to chart my bodily functions – how often I used the toilet, and what for. What bearing did these have on my baby? Was this some kind of joke? What gave her the right to say what time I woke and what time I went to bed? I curled up on the sofa. It was gone 11 p.m. and the day had taken its toll. I picked up the television remote control and was surprised to find a Netflix account already set up in my name.
I was drawn to one of Sheridan’s early movies. In The Greatest Gift she played the role of a pregnant teenager who gave her baby to her sister in England when it was born. It was an old, obscure film, one I had not seen before. I covered my legs with a blanket off the sofa and soon became immersed. But there was something familiar about the scene as it played out, and it set my nerves on edge. I watched, gripped, as they walked down the corridor of the stately home.
‘I’ve started the nursery,’ the sister said, as she opened the bedroom door. ‘It’s just an undercoat. It’s waiting for that special touch.’ She turned to face Sheridan, her eyes moist. ‘I have so many ideas.’ She glanced around the empty room. ‘But I want to work with you to pick out colours and design. Combine our energies into choosing the decor, so the baby can feel our love.’ She chuckled. ‘You probably think I’m silly, but . . .’
My mouth dropped open. Those were the same lines that Sheridan had used on me. Picking up the remote, I replayed the scene, over and over again. How much of her life was real and how much was made up?
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,’ Daniel said, as he took in