I’m about to go back to the beginning of the report and read it properly when there is a short, sharp knock downstairs.
I gasp, scattering the papers as I jump up off the bed. My arms prickle with goosebumps as I jolt upright and shooting pains zip across my cut palm. I stand there, frozen to the spot.
They are back.
It takes a second or two to snap to my senses with the realisation that I can’t afford to wait until they come through the door.
I hastily stuff half the papers back into the envelope and pile the rest back into the shoebox. I then shove everything back into the wardrobe.
As I close and lock the wardrobe door, I realise it has gone quiet once more before a snapping and scraping noise has me on edge again. My mouth instantly dries out and I fight the building tickle in my throat to avoid a full-blown coughing fit.
I creep to the top of the stairs ready to face Ivy and Liam. I am trying and failing to come up with a convincing excuse of why I am trespassing in their home.
Searching for the police contact so Amanda Danson can get her comeuppance isn’t going to cut it, I’m afraid. They don’t even know I have a key.
All quiet and then another sharp bang. I prepare myself for the sound of the back door crashing open and being discovered.
Liam will be confused and upset and it will be difficult to explain to him that I am here only for his own good. So often, people just can’t see what is best for them.
But the back door does not crash open. Everything remains quiet downstairs.
I creep over to the bedroom window and, concealed by the net curtain, I peer down to the road.
Two officers, a man and a woman, walk away from the house, back down towards the bottom of the street.
Dizzy and disorientated, I sit back down on the end of the bed to steady the hammering in my chest. The police must have called hoping to catch Liam in, to talk to him about the accident.
I had been so close to being discovered. My skin is crawling at the thought of what might have happened. My forehead feels really hot, but when I press the back of my hand to it I find it is cool and clammy.
Again, I go to the window and breathe a sigh of relief when the dark uniforms turn the corner and disappear.
I move back to unlock the wardrobe once more so I can restack the boxes properly, as I found them.
But I can’t resist it. I have to pull out the third box.
I don’t have time to look properly, of course, but a quick glance reveals it’s just full of old newspaper cuttings anyway. Births and deaths no doubt – old people always seem obsessed with that sort of thing.
I rearrange the boots and shoes in front so that the boxes are partially hidden, as before. Then I slide the thick envelope stuffed with the interesting paperwork inside my fleece jacket and zip it up.
Downstairs, a white envelope sits on the mat, evidently the reason for the police officers’ visit. Liam’s name is written on the front.
I snatch it up and add it to the hidden depths of my fleece.
As an afterthought I walk into the kitchen and take a quick look in a couple of drawers. Nothing.
When I walk out I spot a pile of mail on top of the fridge-freezer. I lift the top few sheets down and there, sitting loose on top, is a Nottinghamshire Police business card.
There is an extension number written on the back in blue ink, and I am guessing this is the card the police left when they came round to inform Ivy that Liam had been injured.
Ivy has tossed it on to the pile like it’s a piece of junk mail.
I pick it up and slide it into my jeans pocket. It certainly won’t go to waste now.
Before I leave, I check the road both ways from the safety of the living room net curtain. When I am sure it is clear, I slip out of the front door, pulling it closed behind me until I hear the latch click into place.
I walk briskly but confidently up the road to my car. Only when the driver’s door is closed do I allow myself to release a long sigh of relief.
I feel like I’m on fire inside so I open the window a touch and unzip my fleece. Both envelopes slide out and I hold them for a long moment before popping them out of sight into the glove compartment.
I sit back for a few moments, closing my eyes and taking a few breaths to try and clear the thick fuzz from my head. For all I had reservations on encroaching on Ivy and Liam’s privacy, I have to admit that my sacrifice has paid dividends.
I have already started the engine and belted up when I spot the black cab coasting down the road. I turn the engine off again and sit back to watch.
The cab stops outside Liam’s house, and the driver’s door opens.
The driver gets out and takes several bags from the boot, offloading them at the front door. By the time he gets back to the vehicle, Ivy has managed to get her feet on the ground and is hoisting herself to a standing position with the aid of a stick.
It is painfully obvious that, far from improving, she is growing more unsteady on her feet each day. The fact she is obviously in denial about her own health makes a bit more sense to me now.
‘Delusional’, was the word the report used.
The driver removes Liam’s wheelchair from the boot and unfolds it by the back passenger door, but Liam shakes his head and hobbles up the path himself, flouting Dr Khan’s advice about resting his leg.
Although I’m surprised at Liam’s range of movement, it still strikes me as a ridiculous scene. Two people that have trouble getting around, struggling for no other reason than being too stubborn to ask me for help.
Reality hasn’t kicked in for them yet. They have people visiting, fussing around and asking if there is anything they can do. Let’s see how much fun it is six months down the line when the realisation hits that Liam may well have to cope with lasting effects from the accident including his memory loss and mood swings.
Ivy will be out of her depth coping with the physical demands of caring for an invalid when she is already struggling herself both physically and psychologically.
I unbuckle my seatbelt and get out of the car. As I walk across the road I remind myself that I was Liam’s guardian angel in the road as he lay bleeding and dying.
Metaphorically, I continue to hold his hand. Nobody can stop me doing that.
I knock at the front door but, predictably, there is no answer. I walk round to the back door and catch Ivy returning from putting the rubbish out. She looks surprised to see me.
‘Hello Ivy,’ I say. ‘Lucky I saw the cab; I was just about to drive home.’
‘Didn’t you get the message I left with our neighbour, Beryl?’
She frowns and shuffles back inside with some discomfort, even slower on her feet than usual.
‘Were you at the hospital?’ I ask.
‘No,’ she says. ‘Liam wanted to do a bit of shopping so we got a cab into town.’
She turns round and holds on to the doorframe to catch her breath before heading back into the house.
‘Shopping?’ I pause to absorb the sheer stupidity of the woman. ‘In his current state of health? Dr Khan expressly said—’
‘I know what he said,’ Ivy snaps. ‘But those doctors don’t live in the real world, do they?’
And neither do you, by all accounts.
‘Expecting a young man to be stuck in the house day after day is ridiculous. And anyway, he can walk quite well even though he’s slow. Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘Liam’s in his thirties, Ivy,’ I say, clamping my teeth together before I go the whole hog and ask her why she treats him like a kid. ‘Hardly a young man.’
She doesn’t answer me but shuffles off into the kitchen.
I follow her in, resisting the urge to rub my sore hand as I know it will only hurt more.
‘The doctor also said he needs to rest for his mind to recover,’ I point out. ‘He might never get his memory back if he’s got constant stimulation from shopping trips.’
‘That might not be a bad thing.’ Ivy shrugs, pulling mugs from the cupboard. ‘Maybe a fresh start is what he needs.’
What Liam needs is a fresh start well away from her.
She has offered me tea but I feel certain she doesn’t really want me to stay. I can feel her prickling, a static aura that buzzes around her.
I walk into the lounge, and there he is, emptying out the contents of three small carrier bags. Liam’s obvious pleasure at my appearance nullifies the old woman’s grumbling in an instant and serves as a timely reminder of why I keep coming back.
‘DVDs.’ He waves two plastic cases in the air. ‘These are films I used to love and can’t remember a damn thing about.’
I smile and sit down on the edge of the couch next to him. He presses his hand on mine, still cold from being outside.
‘I wondered if we could swap mobile numbers,’ I say shyly. ‘So I can get you if I need you and vice versa.’
‘’Course,’ he grins. He saves my number into his phone as a contact. It’s embarrassing because he has to find it himself on my handset. I’m not very good with new technology. ‘There, I’ve sent you a text and now you have my number.’
I open the text. He’s written, ‘Liam xx’, and I feel my face flush.
Liam offers to save his number in my phone as a new contact.
‘I’m glad you’re here, Anna.’ He looks up at me and my heart seems to melt like wax.
I don’t know what to say. Even though Liam and I are just friends, it fills me with such a warm feeling when he looks at me like this it turns my brain to putty.
It’s just silly and I mustn’t lose focus on who I am really interested in.
‘How do you know you liked the DVDs if you can’t remember?’ I change the subject and move my hand away even though I like it. I can’t help it.
‘Gran brought me this notebook down from the side of my bed. I started it as a kid,’ he says, giving me back my phone and picking up an A5 spiral-bound pad. ‘I suppose I must’ve been a bit of a geek really, writing down films I’d watched and what I thought of them.’
I’m surprised Ivy hasn’t continued to buy him football sticker books and maybe the odd Beano annual. Liam must secretly ache to be out of here so he can breathe.
‘How’s the wheelchair?’ I ask.
He pulls a face and shrugs.
‘I just wanted to rely on my crutches but Gran insisted we take this thing. I hate it.’
‘It won’t be long before you can walk unaided, if you don’t overdo it,’ I say. ‘Got anything good there?’
He hands me the DVD cases and takes another couple out of the carrier bag. The usual classic bloke-type adventure films, Mission: Impossible, The Bourne Identity.
I’m not a massive movie fan myself; I find it difficult to sit and keep my attention on them for an hour and a half when there always seem to be other important things that need doing.
‘Good stuff,’ I say, handing them back. ‘That’s you sorted for the next few days then.’
‘Let’s hope your friend likes them,’ Ivy says from the doorway. ‘I’m hoping we’ll have more people around here soon to keep you company.’
‘Friend?’ I say mildly.
‘She means Amanda,’ Liam flushes, suddenly interested in his hands.
‘She’s coming over to see him later,’ Ivy says. ‘Now, shall I put the kettle on and make you that cup of tea, Anna?’
My teeth bite down hard on my tongue and a metal-like taste floods my mouth.
Tea, tea, fucking tea. The answer to the world’s problems, according to Ivy. She scuttles back to the kitchen, obviously glad of the distraction.
‘Let me get this right, the woman who nearly killed you is coming over to watch films?’ My eyes are stinging, threatening tears, but I don’t care. I can’t stop myself from saying it.
‘You could come over too, if you like?’ Liam leans forward, urging me to agree.
I dig my thumbnail harder into my palm to stop full-blown tears from forming.
‘I wonder what her boyfriend would think about her spending her evenings with you,’ I remark.
‘Boyfriend?’
‘She’s seeing the caretaker at the nursery where she works. Hasn’t she told you?’
His shoulders drop and he looks at the floor. For a second I imagine slapping him.
‘I saw them together when I drove by the other day.’
‘But why – I mean, you never mentioned it until now,’ Liam says.
‘Why should I?’ I shrug. ‘I didn’t think you’d be interested.’
‘No,’ he agrees. ‘I’m not really, I’m just surprised.’
I soften a little, understanding. It’s not that Liam cares about her, he is just surprised at how devious she is.
‘Well, like I said, you’re welcome if you want to watch the film with us.’
‘I’m sure Anna’s got other things she wants to do instead of coming over here, Liam,’ Ivy reappears in the doorway.
‘Actually, I haven’t,’ I respond tartly, looking back at Liam. ‘But I’m not sure I want to be around someone like Amanda Danson.’
‘She’s not the wicked person you make her out to be, Anna. Amanda has been upset. It seems someone has got it in for her.’
Liam glances over at Ivy.
‘Oh?’ My ears prick up.
‘Yes, she came home to a load of manure dumped in her front yard. And the company who did it without her authorisation are now demanding payment. Can you believe it?’
How I manage not to smirk I don’t know.
I ignore Ivy and turn to face Liam. ‘I think the police and her insurance company would be concerned to hear she’s in touch with you.’
‘Everyone is welcome here,’ Ivy says lightly.
‘Even someone who nearly killed your grandson?’ The words spill out too loud before I can stop them, and Ivy looks alarmed. ‘If it was someone on the street who attacked him would you invite them over too?’
All this time I’ve given Ivy the benefit of the doubt without knowing about her underlying madness. When I get home I’ll be able to read the report in full but, for now, I’ve seen enough to know she’s clearly unstable.
‘It’s hardly the same thing,’ Ivy snaps. ‘It was an accident; Amanda didn’t mean to hurt him.’
No, ‘Amanda’ never means to hurt anyone. There’s always a reason for her impulsiveness and lack of thought for the consequences of her actions.
I feel something shift inside me and I clamp my mouth shut before some choice words spill out. I have nothing else to say to Ivy.