I had got almost as far as the top of the stairs again when Donovan emerged from the bedroom behind me, pointing at the doorway on his left.
‘Is this the main bathroom?’
‘That’s right.’
‘OK if I go in?’
I nodded, knowing it wouldn’t be a good idea for me to try to say too much.
There was no way I could be in there at the same time as him. It would be even worse than the thought of opening the door to the basement.
‘Wow, stylish.’
I didn’t reply. I couldn’t.
I leaned sideways, resting one hand on the radiator behind me and using my free hand to pinch the bridge of my nose.
Dread churned inside.
Something bitter rose up in my throat.
‘I like the rainfall shower.’
Say something.
‘That was Sam’s idea. He wanted a “wow” factor.’
‘Well, it worked. You can tell him I said, “Wow!”’
If I focused hard I could just about conjure Sam’s voice, his slow, calming tones. Telling me to inhale, then exhale. Talking me through a meditation exercise. Reassuring me I was in a safe place. Holding me until I calmed.
But as hard as I tried, his voice began fracturing and whistling out like a bad radio signal as the harrowing memories crashed over me, bringing with them all the distress and upset and terror of . . .
Another bathroom. Another time.
The swell of party music and laughter, a raucous shout and the clink of glasses.
A door closing behind me.
—click.
A lock engaging.
A small space.
Four walls.
‘I’ve been watching you.’
‘Lucy?’
I snapped back so fast that for a horrifying moment the memory flickers of my trauma were partially overlaid on top of the scene in front of me.
I was seeing Donovan lean his upper body out of our bathroom, his knuckles wrapped around the door frame, but at the same time I was also seeing a gauzy, unknown figure closing the distance between us, thrusting out an arm, until he was so close that he passed through me like a ghost disappearing through a wall.
‘Lucy? Did you hear what I said?’
‘Mmm?’ I rubbed my hand around my shoulders and stretched my neck to one side, as if I was freeing up a muscle kink.
‘I asked if I could run the shower? I just want to check the water pressure.’
‘Fine.’
There was a brittle scratch as my nails flaked away some of the paint on the radiator.
‘Terrific. Thank you.’
He ducked back into the bathroom and I immediately turned the other way, staring down the stairs towards the front door.
Where was Bethany? Why wasn’t she here yet?
From the bathroom behind me I could hear the twist of a tap.
A ragged splatter.
The hiss and drumming of water pummelling the shower tray.
Oh God.
My skin seemed to be wired to a dangerous voltage. I could feel my pulse in my fingertips.
I shouldn’t have done this.
I wasn’t capable of doing this.
It was much too much for me on my own.
I fumbled in the back pocket of my jeans for my phone, my fingers slipping on the case in my haste, almost dropping it as I took it out, then catching it and swiping at my mouth and eyes, staring at the screen.
No new messages.
No missed calls.
The time read 16:19.
Bethany had to be here soon.
You just have to hold it together for a little longer.
You can do that.
The shower stopped.
A few stray drips.
A taut silence.
I thought about firing off a quick text to Sam, letting him know what was happening. I knew he wouldn’t read my message until later but the prospect of him picking it up after his support group, understanding how I was feeling and calling me the moment he was able to would be something for me to cling to.
But before I could act on the impulse, Donovan backed out onto the landing, wiping some wetness from his glove onto his coat before raising his phone in front of his face and lining up a picture of the bathroom.
‘The pressure is great,’ he said. ‘I’m a fiend for a good shower.’
‘Glad you like it,’ I replied, surreptitiously slipping my own phone away again.
He didn’t appear to notice. He was too busy adjusting the angle of the photograph he was taking.
‘I’m starting to think this house could be my perfect match, Lucy.’
A tiny capsule of courage cracked open inside my chest, warm liquid oozing out.
I found myself taking a step away from the wall and the radiator.
You’ve got this. You mustn’t let it beat you.
‘Then let’s go up to the attic,’ I said before I could change my mind. ‘I should show you my favourite room.’