in an environment like that.’
‘It wasn’t.’
He frowns. ‘Do you think she’ll be safe around the baby?’
‘Of course she’ll be. That was just a one-off.’ Even as I say the words, they sound wrong, as if I’m not sure I believe them myself.
Later, I lie in bed trying to sleep, wondering about my mother in the room two doors down from me. I place my hand on my stomach, thinking of the baby. I feel an unexpected shiver of fear. Who is my mother really? The loving woman who brought me up and attended every school assembly? The woman who went into a violent rage and smashed everything up? Or someone else entirely? Prison must have changed her, but I don’t know how. Do I want her to be so close to our baby?
Thirty-Seven
Beth
The morning after the trip to the hospital Charlie is back to his usual self. When I wake him up he smiles brightly, and my worry yesterday seems like it was from another life, a figment of my imagination. The doctors had told me to keep an eye on him, in case he’d taken the pills, and I’d checked on him every half-hour through the night, unable to sleep myself.
I get him up and dressed and then, on autopilot, open the bathroom cabinet and reach for my antidepressants. I stare into the cupboard in disbelief. They’re still there. I open the bottle and knock one back. There’s a few days’ supply left.
Where had Charlie got the other bottle from? It must have been an old one, an empty one. And then realisation hits. Sometimes we do craft projects, making robots out of cardboard boxes and whatever recycling we’ve got. He must have taken an old pill bottle from there. I almost laugh with relief.
* * *
Later, I light the candle to cleanse the air in my counselling room in preparation for my therapy session with Danielle. I’ve managed to avoid telling Richard that I know her. I don’t want him to realise there’s a connection between us and stop me seeing her.
Everything has changed now. I want to use the session to get under her skin. I don’t want to help her or guide her. I want to punish her for what she did to me. I can’t let her get away with taking Richard from me.
Tension fills the room as Danielle and Peter sit down. In the last session he was so convinced the baby wasn’t his. I thought he might leave Danielle, that I might never see him again. But here he is, sitting nervously on the sofa, tapping his fingers against the armrest.
‘How are you feeling, Danielle?’ I ask as she sinks onto the sofa. She’s not showing yet, but she looks pale, with shadows under her eyes.
‘Tired. I just don’t seem to have the energy I used to have. Really I’d just love to lie down and go to sleep.’
I smile warmly at her. ‘I remember feeling like that. Your body is just preparing you for having the baby. This is the easy part. You’ll know what exhaustion really feels like once it’s born and it’s screaming all night.’
‘I’ve been telling her to get more rest, but she’s still working too many hours.’ I hear a note of concern in Peter’s voice, and wonder if he’s changed his mind about the baby.
‘Have you had the chance to talk about what we discussed last week?’ I look at Peter, who stares at me blankly. ‘Last week you expressed concerns that the baby might not be yours,’ I confirm.
Peter flushes. ‘I should never have said that. I know it’s mine.’ He reaches for Danielle’s hand and entwines his fingers with hers. Jealousy burns inside me. He still loves her, despite everything.
‘How do you know?’ I want to find out more, to figure out what’s changed since last week, but my words sound too challenging, not gentle, not how I normally sound in these sessions.
‘Because of the dates. The midwife said we must have conceived seven weeks ago. We were back together then.’ He looks at Danielle, a smile stretching over his face.
Seven weeks ago. I count back in my head. That was just before I got the photos of Danielle with Richard. I try to keep a relaxed posture, but I can’t stop my jaw from clenching. I clasp my hands together and dig my nails into my palm as hard as I can. The pain distracts me and I manage to keep quiet, to stop