I watched from the car as she hobbled across the parking lot hanging on to Adam’s arm, and felt physically sick. She’d kept him waiting in the busy hospital reception while she finished her “chemotherapy.” He’d offered me a coffee from the cafeteria as she stretched it out, no doubt to add authenticity, but I couldn’t stomach it. I’d wanted to get dropped off at the station so I didn’t have to face her, so I could no longer be party to her evil lies and deceit. But Adam had refused.
“You look as right as rain now,” he’d insisted, driving straight past the station on his way to the hospital. “You’ve got your color back.”
“I really don’t feel well. Can’t you just drop me off?” I’d said.
“But Mum will be so disappointed. She’ll be upset if you can’t, at the very least, have a cup of tea with her.”
If I’d felt stronger, I would have dragged him into the hospital, demanded to be directed to the relevant ward, and called her out. Only then would he know what she’d done, what she was capable of. She’d be none the wiser, though, as while he furiously searched the list, refusing to believe she wasn’t there, she’d be happily pottering around the shops in town, no doubt treating herself to a new blouse. But that’s all it would take to make him see. For him to start understanding what she’d put me through, and for both of us to begin to piece together what she’d done to Rebecca.
Once the string was pulled, it would unravel at an alarming rate, but I needed time to work out which thread to pull first. Adam needed to see her for what she was, to believe in the possibility that she could do someone real harm. He’d think I was deranged if I started accusing her of Rebecca’s murder with no real evidence, and if he didn’t believe me, it would spell the end of us. I wasn’t prepared to let that happen, not only because I loved him, but because I refused to let her win.
I wished that the anger I’d been carrying around for so long was still here now, forcing me to stand up and do what was right while I had the chance. But that maddening resentment that had always been so close to bubbling over had been replaced by fear: not only for the relationship with the man I loved, but for me. This woman, whom I’d first thought of as nothing more than an annoying but harmless, overprotective mother, was a jealous psychopath who would stop at nothing to get what she wanted.
To think that, looking at her now, was laughable. All hunched over, with her pleated skirt and sensible cardigan buttoned up tightly, shuffling ever so slowly, as if every step pained her. If I wasn’t so scared it would be funny.
“Would you mind sitting in the back, dear?” she said as she reached the car. “It’s just that I feel awfully nauseous after that, and I’m better in the front.”
I didn’t say a word. Just got out and moved.
“Thanks so much. Honestly, I can’t describe what it feels like.”
Go on, try, I wanted to say. Explain to me what it feels like to pretend to have cancer, to wander nonchalantly around the shops while your friends and family put their lives on hold and pray for your recovery.
“How was it?” I said instead, my voice level, even though my heart was thumping out of my chest.
“It’s not very nice,” she said. “And they say it’s going to get worse. I can’t imagine what I’m going to do with myself when that happens.”
“You might be all right,” I said curtly. “People react very differently to chemotherapy. It’s down to the individual. You might be one of the lucky ones.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” she said.
“Doubt what?” asked Adam gently, as he got into the driver’s seat.
“Emily thinks I’ll sail through this, but I think she might be underestimating it.”
I smiled to myself and shook my head incredulously, just as Adam turned to look at me, his face saying, What is wrong with you?
“How did it go, Mum?” he asked. “You okay?”
She pulled up the sleeve of her cardigan again, as if showing a ball of cotton wool was all that she needed to do to prove she had cancer.
“I feel a bit woozy,” she said. “I think even the place makes you feel strange. All those stories you hear. They’re enough to send you bananas on their own.”
“Why don’t you let Adam come in with you next time?” I said. “He might be able to take your mind off it.”
“Oh, no, I don’t want him seeing me in there like that,” she said.
“I’d like to, Mum. If it will help?”
“No, you’re a big softy,” she said, reaching over to pat his thigh. “I can’t have you getting all upset. Now, enough of all this doom and gloom, let’s get back home and have a nice brew.”
I made the tea while she lay on the sofa, directing Adam as to how to place her pillows so that she was sitting up enough, but not too much.
“Well, isn’t this lovely,” she commented, as I carried in the tray with the teas on. “I just wish I was feeling better.”
“Don’t worry, Mum, I’m sure you’ll be as good as new in no time. We’ll just have to make sure we look after you until then.”
“Well, I was going to say about that,” she said, as she shakily took a cup and saucer from the tray. “I’m not all that good, as you can see.” She held up a doddering hand as if to prove the point. “And I had a fall on the day you moved back to be with Emily.”
“Oh, no,” he said anxiously. “Are you okay?”
“Well, I am, and, as you know, I’ve always been fiercely independent, but…” She trailed off.
I turned to look out of the window, waiting for what I knew was about to come.
“But I’m finding it very difficult,” she went on. “It’s hard to admit, but that’s the fact of the matter. It would really help if you were around a bit more. I got used to having you here for those couple of weeks—wrong, I know, but I can’t help it. I feel vulnerable, now that you’re gone.”
I forced myself to stay where I was, to concentrate on the sunflowers that were in full bloom at the end of the garden, their brightness at odds with the dark gray clouds looming overhead.
“I can’t stay any longer,” said Adam. “I need to be at home with Emily. But I’ll pop in, and James is always around.”
“I know, I know.” She sighed. “But James isn’t quite so reliable these days, now that he’s met this new girl.”
I swung round far quicker than I should have.
“New girl?” My stomach turned at the thought of him with someone else, not because I wanted him, but because I didn’t want anyone else to have him either.
She looked at me. “He met her in a bar in town about a month ago. Seems to have knocked him sideways.” I tried to keep my expression neutral, but every muscle in my face was twitching. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen him like it.”
“Was he going to bring her to the wedding?” I asked nonchalantly.
“No, we chatted about it, but we both felt it was too early. They’d only been together for a couple of weeks, which was far too soon to be throwing her into the lion’s den and introducing her to the whole clan.”
“Have you met her?” I asked.
“No, not yet, but I hope to in the next few weeks—whenever James is ready.”
She made herself sound so reasoned, so plausible. I looked at her and wondered what was running through her head. What hell was she planning for this poor girl, if it ever got serious?
“He certainly seems to be smitten, though,” she went on. “You two will have to be careful—they might well end up beating you down the aisle at this rate.”
“Mum!” Adam said in mock umbrage, laughing.
I wondered when the cancellation of our wedding, twenty-four hours before it was supposed to happen, had become something acceptable to joke about, especially by the groom.
“So, the heartbreak diet obviously didn’t work for you?” she said, as soon as Adam took himself out of the room.
I smiled and patted my flat stomach. “Or maybe I’m pregnant from all the amazing make-up sex we’ve had?”
I raised my eyebrows, and she frowned in distaste.
“Are they not concerned about the effect this treatment might have on your asthma?” I asked boldly.
“Asthma?” she asked, genuinely surprised by the question. “I haven’t got asthma.”
“Oh, I thought I remembered Adam telling me once that you’d had it when he was younger? I’d read somewhere that certain types of chemo can have an adverse effect on asthmatics.” I was fishing, but I needed to know with utmost certainty that the inhaler wasn’t hers, though I already knew it wasn’t.
“No, never,” she said, whistling and reaching over to touch wood.
“Never what?” asked Adam as he came back into the room.
“Nothing, son.”
“What have I missed?” he asked, smiling. “It feels like you two have a secret.”
I smiled back and shook my head. “I was just saying that I’m sure you’d told me that your mum had asthma, when you were younger, but I must have dreamed it.” I caught a glint of his set jaw, and knew I’d pushed my luck, so I laughed to lighten the mood. “You’d be genuinely terrified if you knew what I dreamed about.”
“So, when are you two lovebirds going to reschedule the wedding?” asked Pammie, clearly desperate to change the subject. “I guess it will be a while away now, won’t it? Be difficult to reorganize everything so quickly, what with getting everyone there again—and that’s if the venue even has free dates.”
She was rambling on, answering her own questions with what she’d like to hear. But I wasn’t one for giving Pammie what she wanted. “No, I think it’ll be soon,” I said, knowing full well that the hotel didn’t have any vacancies for at least six months. I felt the prickle of hot tears springing to my eyes unexpectedly, and batted them away. I would never allow her the satisfaction of thinking her actions could make me cry. “I’m hoping that it’ll happen in the next month or two.”
I watched her face crumple. “Oh, that will be such a relief, dear,” she cried, pulling a tissue from a nearby box and dabbing at her eyes. “That will go some way to assuaging my guilt.”
“I don’t know about that, Em,” Adam said, his brow knitted. “There’s a lot to do in that time.” He crouched down beside Pammie. “And you’ve got nothing to feel guilty about, Mum. That was my decision.”
He looked up at me. If he was hoping for a smile, a hint of forgiveness, he was mistaken.
I turned it on for Pammie, though, kneeling down beside Adam and taking her hand in mine. “But obviously we’re not going to do it until you’re better.” I smiled piteously. “We need to know you’re through the treatment and out the other side.”
“Oh, you’re a lovely girl,” she said, patting my hand. My skin crawled at her touch.
“She is,” agreed Adam, pulling me toward him and kissing my cheek. I turned my face so that our lips met, and I parted mine ever so slightly, inviting him to take more. He pulled away, but the act wasn’t lost on Pammie, who turned away in disgust.