When we arrive back home after our wonderful Christmas break, I feel rejuvenated and so positive for our future together as a new family.
Steph calls me the day we return and invites herself over.
‘I’ll bring a bottle of wine over tomorrow night. I want to hear all about your break and see the pics. It’ll do us good to have a catch-up and get back on track after our disagreement.’
There was no disagreement about it. I told her I was dating again and she couldn’t handle it!
‘We’ll catch up soon, I promise,’ I say, thinking on my feet. ‘I’ve got a ton to do and really want to see you but the next few days are swallowed up with chasing up jobs after the Christmas break.’ As I expected, she greets this news with a frosty silence. ‘Let me look at the diary and we’ll sort something out, I promise.’
I feel bad when she ends the call abruptly but my news about moving in with George has to be given properly. I owe Brenda and Leonard the courtesy of telling them face to face and Steph knows me too well. I’d never be able to conceal the news if we meet up. Sensing I was holding back, she’d hound me until I cracked.
The following week, it’s back to business as usual: shopping for bits of school uniform, updating my new year yoga classes on the website. We’re already spending lots more time at George’s house and I’ve started clandestinely packing boxes upstairs.
‘It’s better for the boys to get used to the house gradually over the next few weeks,’ George sensibly suggested. ‘Bring them over as often as you like.’
I nod, appearing to take it all in my stride but privately, I crumble a bit when I think of telling Joel’s family about my decision to move in with George. Still, I arrange with Brenda we’ll go over for a family tea on Sunday.
Saturday morning, I drop the boys off with Brenda and Leonard, and drive over to George’s. He’s suggested we speak to Maria today about me and the boys moving in.
‘She’s not working today but I’ve asked her to pop in for half an hour and she’s offered to take Romy to the park. You don’t have to tell her today but I’m guessing you might want to reduce her working hours once you get into the swing of things here.’
I gulp a bit at that. I hadn’t thought about the practical measures of moving in with George and part of me feels guilty for having a negative impact on Maria’s position.
I’ve made an effort to look a bit smarter than I usually would at the weekend, wearing a fitted top and black trousers instead of my preferred jeans. I want to feel I match up to Lucy in Maria’s eyes, when we tell her of our plans.
Typically, George and Romy are upstairs, getting her stuff together, when Maria arrives. I call up to George but Romy has the television on in her bedroom and he doesn’t hear. I steel myself and open the door.
‘Maria, hello again!’ I offer her a big smile when I open the door to save her using her key.
She looks slightly taken aback to see me but nods and gives me a small smile. She’s a tall woman with well-preserved skin. But there’s a faded air about her, diluted, almost. I find myself wondering if she has her own family.
I take a few steps back so she can come inside, but she hovers around in the porch, seemingly a bit nervous in my company.
‘Would you like to come through, Maria? I can make us some tea while Romy’s getting ready, and there’s an artisan mince pie from the lodge park hamper going spare if you fancy it.’
‘No!’ she says quickly, and then seems to catch herself. ‘Thank you, Darcy, but I’ve eaten quite enough recently to last me through the next month at least.’ She pats her tummy and I laugh.
‘I know how that feels!’
I’m hoping we’ve broken the ice, but she falls silent again. Shifts her weight from one foot to the other. She spends so much time in this house and yet she’s acting like a stranger in my presence.
‘Romy!’ I call up the stairs, over my shoulder. ‘Maria’s here.’
‘Did you… did you all have a nice time at the lodge?’ She watches me intently.
‘We did. It was really wonderful.’ Our conversation is so stilted, I find myself grasping for something interesting to say. ‘George bought me this; it was a lovely surprise.’
I hold up my wrist, and the diamond bracelet sparkles under the crystal chandelier in the hallway.
Maria lets out a little gasp, and her hand flies to her throat.
I feel the smile melt from my lips.
‘What’s wrong?’ I take a step towards her, but she backs off. ‘Maria, are you OK?’
She shakes her head. ‘It’s just that…’ She falters, and I hold my breath, thinking she’s about to open up to me about something.
Then I hear the sound of feet thundering down the stairs.
‘Nanny!’ Romy jumps off the bottom two steps, skips across the hall and barrels into the housekeeper’s arms. I marvel at how relaxed she seems compared to her usual restrained mood when we’re around.
‘You were saying, Maria?’ I prompt her to continue, but her eyes flicker to the stairs, to where George now stands.
‘Hello, Maria,’ he says.
‘It was nothing important.’ Maria gives me a weak smile. ‘I’m just glad you all had a nice time.’
‘Romy, pop back upstairs and get your scarf and gloves,’ George says. ‘We just need a little chat with Maria.’
We all go into the lounge and I see Maria’s fingers are fidgeting against her leg.
‘Nothing to worry about, Maria,’ I say. ‘We just wanted to let you know about our plans.’
We sit down and George speaks.
‘Darcy and her two sons will be moving in here with us shortly and we wanted you to know, that’s all.’
Maria stares at him.
‘Are my services no longer required?’ Her lip quivers and I wish I knew her better so I felt able to put a comforting arm around her.
‘Of course we still want you to come in,’ I say quickly, anxious to reassure her.
‘Although Darcy may, in time, need to tweak your duties and hours,’ George adds.
Silence.
Romy thunders downstairs and into the lounge waving her scarf and gloves in the air. Maria stands up slowly as if she’s afraid she might keel over.
‘Thank you for telling me,’ she says and pats Romy’s head. ‘Get your coat on, little one. Time for us to get off to the park.’
I follow them out to the hallway and help Romy with her outerwear.
‘Thanks, Maria,’ I say as they walk to the door hand-in-hand. ‘I’m sure we’re all going to get on just fine.’
Romy drops a glove and I bend to pick it up but instead of looking down, I lift my chin to smile at Maria and stifle a gasp at the expression of pure hatred on her face.
‘Is there something wrong? Something you want to say?’ I stand up and fix her with a stare that belies my nervousness.
Her face breaks into a smile. ‘Not at all,’ she says softly. ‘I’m sure everything will work out for the best. One way or another.’
When Maria has left and George is dealing with some paperwork in his office, I open up the Google homepage and in the search bar I type: Opal Vardy.
Then I press enter.
Predictably, there are hundreds of thousands of results. The first couple I click on take me to details of Opal Vardys all over the world, so I refine the search by adding in Nottingham. This time it’s better, but still nothing leaps out at me.
I open up Facebook and select the fake profile I use to get closer to Daniela and retain my anonymity. To my surprise, not one profile in Opal’s name comes up. There are near misses and plenty of Opals and Vardys, but no exact combination of her name. This is highly unusual, though I only have to look at my own fake profile to understand what she is probably doing.
Over on Twitter, it’s a similar story. There are two people named Opal Vardy. One has no profile picture and has only two followers. The other one is an American teenager who hasn’t posted or retweeted anything for over a year.
Over on Instagram, there are two profiles with the name Opal Vardy. One has no followers, no posts and is following precisely no one. The other profile is private with no profile picture. I put in a follow request to this account.
It seems I’ve hit the proverbial brick wall, but it will take more than this to put me off. The obsessed mind is clever, canny… She’s out there somewhere; it’s just a matter of finding that one less obvious link. It’s here somewhere, I can feel it.
I return to Google and scan down the search results, aware that it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. Then something George mentioned pushes its way into my mind.
She used to work in the hospital archives.
In the search bar, I type: Opal Vardy City Hospital.
My heart sinks a little as nothing interesting loads. I click on the images tab and the screen splits into photographic tiles. The third one along forces me to take a sharp intake of breath. I click on it and it fills the screen.
The photograph forms part of a local hospital magazine article from two years ago. Underneath the narrative are the words: Employee Opal Vardy was awarded Temporary Staff Member of the Year at the Nottingham University Hospitals NHS Trust awards presentation at the East Midlands Conference Centre.
I take a screen shot of the photo and crop it so that Opal is the only one in the picture. She looks younger and happier than the woman I saw in the hospital, but you can clearly see it’s her.
When Maria brings Romy back from the park, she watches her to the door from halfway down the drive. It’s obvious she doesn’t want to speak to me again.
When I’ve helped her off with her coat and scarf, I bring the photo up on my phone and show it to her.
‘Is this the lady who tried to speak to you in the woods at the lodge park, Romy?’
She stares at the screen. Doesn’t blink, doesn’t say a word.
‘You won’t get into trouble if you tell me. I just need to know so we can keep you super safe, OK?’
Her eyes are still fixed on the photograph, but I can’t tell if that’s because she recognises Opal or if she’s trying to recall the woman in the woods.
‘Have you seen this lady before, Romy?’ I press her, nervous in case George pads softly downstairs without me hearing.
She nods, and my heart seems to jump up into my throat.
‘She’s my friend,’ Romy says, and looks away.
I feel breathless, trying to make sense of why she’d say that. Has George been secretly seeing Opal? Is he doing the exact same thing with another woman that Joel did to me?
My voice catches in my throat and I cough before speaking.
‘Do you see her often? Does Daddy take you to see her?’
She shakes her head and I feel a flood of relief in my chest.
‘How do you know she’s your friend then?’
‘Because I saw Maria talking to her and she said she was,’ Romy says.