leaving it, or was Sheridan being intentionally cruel? Perhaps she saw Juanita as a privilege that she had now taken away.
I rummaged in my wardrobe, trying to find something clean to wear. My dressing gown was grubby, the socks on my feet stale. I was reduced to washing my underwear in the bathroom sink with hand soap and drying it across the back of the chair. Occasionally, I’d hear Sheridan bark something in Spanish, but I guessed Anna, not Juanita, was on the receiving end of it. Even Daniel had stopped visiting me. Work was claiming his attention; I knew that from the conversations he’d had with Sheridan upstairs. I hated myself for missing him, and home seemed a million miles away.
I spent hours talking to my baby, but in reality, I was rambling to myself. Her kicks were getting stronger now, and at least I was still getting fed. Once a fortnight, Anna escorted me to Dr Blumberg’s surgery for blood tests and a check-up. There was no point in pleading with him; my words fell on deaf ears. Even the door of the surgery was locked until my visit was complete. Sometimes Sheridan would stand over me. Other days, she would wait until I was gone. I’d hear her voice carry through the corridor outside the surgery as I was returned to my room. It was always about her baby: her health, her dietary needs and any changes that needed to be made. Once a day, Anna placed a tray of enough food to last me twenty-four hours on the floor outside the lift: one hot meal at lunchtime, with a cold supper and breakfast provided for the next day. So much for my schedule. Everything had gone out the window in the last few weeks. I never thought I would come to miss our Pilates sessions, or even those stupid chants. It was as if Sheridan still wanted my baby, but I was a shiny toy and my novelty value had worn off.
Days and nights merged together. Without windows, it was hard to tell what time it was. I couldn’t even draw anymore, now Sheridan had removed my art supplies. I wanted to scream, to thrash about, to kick up the biggest fuss, but if Sheridan heard me, she would realise that I could hear her, too. I could not bear for her to block up the air vent – my only link to the outside world.
Sheridan spent hardly any time with Leo, and when she did, she was always telling him off. I’d hear her shrill voice telling him to look at the camera in a certain way, calling him stupid when he failed to comply. Things were worse for everyone when Daniel was away.
I sat at the table in the basement, biting into a protein bar that tasted like sand.
Sheridan’s voice came through the air vent. She was having a heated phone conversation, by the sound of things. Slowly and carefully I clambered on to the chair, and listened intently to her words.
‘I need another favour . . . I wouldn’t ask unless it was important.’ A pause as somebody spoke on the other end of the line.
‘Daniel’s on location in Washington. He won’t be back for another week.’
So that’s why he hadn’t visited me. But if it wasn’t Daniel on the phone, who was Sheridan talking to? I knew it wasn’t George, because he had only just called; from the gist of their conversation, he had cancelled coming over because his mother had taken a turn for the worse. Sheridan had spoken to him with a lot more sympathy than she did to whoever was on the phone now. I listened, cocking my head to pick up her words.
‘I need you to come here. I have a job for you . . .’ Another pause. ‘Yes, here, to my apartment. It’s time-sensitive. It won’t wait.’
I gripped the chair as it wobbled. What job? What was she up to now? A sinking feeling made it hard to swallow. Was she talking about me?
‘I need it done before Daniel gets back.’
My hand rose to my mouth as I emitted a squeak of fear. She’d had enough. She was getting rid of me. What else could it be?
‘You won’t get into trouble if you keep it to yourself . . .’ Her words were sharp, as they always were when she was met with a barrier of any kind. ‘I’ve been good to you, Mike . .