less and less time in his presence, and he became like a demanding puppy rather than her son. She thought about a scene in a movie she loved, in which one member of the family died just as a new one was brought to life. It was so very poignant, it almost brought a tear to her eye. That was a feat in itself. If it weren’t for Daniel, she wouldn’t miss Leo at all . . . Thoughts bobbed to the surface in the dark waters of her mind. He was an innocent child. Yet . . . She tried to imagine life without him. Just her, Daniel and their perfect little girl.
She watched Roz toss and turn, flinging an arm out to the side. She smiled, shook her head. Sometimes her own thoughts frightened even her.
What was Roz dreaming about? Daniel was probably asleep now, too. She did not realise that Roz was awake until the young woman sat up and stared at her in surprise.
‘Sheridan?’ she said, blinking in the dim light.
Sheridan rose, smoothed her duvet as she encouraged her to lie back down. Everything was under control. There would be no mistakes this time.
Sheridan walked towards the lift, her eyes flicking to the doorway that led to the secret room. To think, she was entertaining her friends just hours ago on the floor above. If they knew what was down here . . . She imagined their horrified faces if they were to discover the truth. People thought they knew her. They hadn’t got a clue.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ROZ
The next morning, Sheridan wasted no time in introducing me to my new routine.
‘I’ve cleared my schedule for the next six months, so I’ll be working from home.’ Her lips curled in a smile as she spoke.
I, on the other hand, wasn’t sure how to feel about that. I stretched out on the yoga mat she had unrolled near the end of my bed. My living space smelt of oil burners, and the heady scent of frankincense tickled my nose. As we sat with our legs crossed in meditation, she told me to empty my mind, but all I could think about was the night before. Was she really watching me as I slept? If so, that was as creepy as hell.
Thirty minutes later, I worked on my pregnancy stretches and surmised it had probably been a dream. My head throbbed as I bent over into what Sheridan called a downward dog. Her body was lean and toned, her Lycra clinging to her like a second skin. I envied her flexibility as she changed positions with ease.
Dympna would have laughed her head off if she’d heard me chanting the birth affirmations Sheridan insisted I repeat: ‘I am healthy and strong . . . Baby is perfect in every way . . . I am open and accepting . . . Baby is strong, healthy and beautiful . . .’
I noticed that Sheridan didn’t ask me to say ‘my baby’, as was often the case with such chants. Each sentence was incorporated into a breathing pattern that gave me the giggles, but one disapproving look from Sheridan was enough to sober me up. Finally, she left me to go upstairs to check that Anna had prepared breakfast as instructed. I had barely five minutes alone before Juanita arrived to tidy my room. I had made the bed before her arrival. We were only a couple of hours into my schedule and already it felt so intense. I needed to draw, to walk the streets for inspiration. To explore.
Standing under the shower, I felt the last of my headache ebb away. Perhaps Sheridan was right, and the stretches and meditation had done me good. She only wanted what was best for me, after all.
‘Tell me about yourself. I want to know everything about you,’ Sheridan said as I took a seat beside her at their expansive kitchen table. It was made of marble, just like the kitchen counter, and was far superior to what I’d seen in kitchen showrooms at home. Dympna and I used to visit them, dream about the houses we would one day own. But I could never have imagined myself enveloped in such luxury as this. Every facet of this home screamed money, and felt so at odds with what I was used to in Dublin.
‘My life’s not very exciting,’ I said, tucking into my breakfast of muesli with fresh fruit. The smell of Sheridan’s freshly made coffee