from the tray to the table to eat. I moved the plastic spoon along with the folded napkin, blinking to clear my vision as I saw what was nestled beneath. A knife. She had left me a weapon. I stared at it, knowing I should hide it before Sheridan came down. But my body would not move. A part of me was too scared to pick it up in case Sheridan had installed CCTV. But surely whoever left it would know if that was the case? It was small, the kind for peeling potatoes. But if I used it, someone could seriously get hurt. My breath quickened as I imagined the consequences. What if the knife were turned back on me? On my baby? Was I willing to take that risk?
Upstairs, the murmur of conversation came to an end and Sheridan’s heels clicked against the tiled floor. She was coming for me. I had to hide the knife. But where? I thought of the one place they were likely to keep me bound. My bed. But there was no time. My hand hovered over the cutlery. Could I really do this? I could not risk Sheridan knowing I had help on the outside. For now, my baby was keeping me alive. Juanita would be in more danger than me. Holding the knife pointed down, I strode to my bed and put the knife under my pillow – where I could reach it if need be.
I held my breath as the lift began its journey down. Pursing my lips, I made it back to the kitchen table, as if my small interaction with Juanita had never happened at all. But a spark of hope had lit inside me. I had an ally. I picked at my sandwich, forcing down a mouthful of tuna and mayo.
‘We’ve got a friend,’ I whispered to my baby in relief. But how far was she willing to go to help me? The magazines, the weapon – they were equipping me with what I needed, but I was still on my own.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
ROZ
‘Come up.’ Sheridan beckoned me to join her in the lift. But my feet were rooted to the spot. Everything felt out of kilter. She was dressed for business, her lips showing the after-effect of recent fillers.
‘Oh, you’re back.’
I tried to act surprised as I joined her, offering her a half-smile. In the confines of the lift I felt the low thunder of her anger from deep within. I stood there, my stomach churning as I remembered our altercation: me sinking my teeth into her hand to make her release the lift doors. The taste of her blood on my tongue. Was that why she’d stopped asking me about the baby? I could feel her hatred for me growing with every day that passed. She led me into the living room, and my internal warning bells rang as I saw Daniel and George sitting there. Anna closed the door firmly behind us as she left.
‘What’s going on?’ I said, trying to muster some bravado.
Turning towards the marble fireplace, Sheridan picked up a prayer book and threw it at my feet. I jumped at the sudden act of violence, emitting a terrified squeak. Dread washed over me as I realised I had been betrayed. George must have seen me slip the note into the book and picked it up as we left the church. How could he? He knew what Sheridan was like: the danger he had placed me in. As Sheridan read out the note, my shame grew.
‘Why?’ Sheridan said. ‘After everything we’ve done for you?’
‘I’m sorry, I . . . I just wanted to let my friend know where I was.’
‘I trusted you.’ Daniel’s voice was steady, but his expression was one of hurt. ‘Anyone would think you were being held hostage. If you wanted to leave, you only had to ask.’
My mouth dropped open. I could barely believe what I was hearing. My gaze fell on George. Surely he knew this was not true?
‘I . . . I thought . . .’
‘We had an agreement,’ Sheridan said. ‘You leave after the baby is born. If you were unhappy you should have said so. But to do this . . . to betray our trust. Why?’
‘I want to go home,’ I said, confused. Why were they acting as if I were here of my own free will? ‘I’ve asked, so many times. But you won’t let me go.’