Ten minutes or so after James leaves for work, I make my way into the kitchen having just placed a sleeping Cory into his Moses basket upstairs. I had wanted to wake him so I could bath him but Magda convinced me to wait until after his ten o’clock feed. ‘He’ll only sick it up,’ she’d laughed, ‘and then we’ll have to bath him again.’
‘Here you are, lovely,’ she says now, passing me a steaming-hot mug of tea. She picks up her own matching mug before proceeding to lean against the kitchen worktop, the window positioned directly behind her. She stares at me for a long time, her brow creasing. I want to ask her about Annette, to see if she thinks the police are likely to take the sleepsuit seriously. ‘Drink up,’ she says, before I have a chance to say anything. ‘They do say a cup of tea solves everything.’
The mug is hot, so hot I can barely hold it. I give the tea a blow, the steam causing fine perspiration to gather on my top lip. I look past Magda, out towards the kitchen window, the light bouncing back off the glass, giving me a shadowy glimpse of myself. I’m dressed in a flimsy white nightdress, my red hair wild and knotted. I have no recollection of changing into my pyjamas, no real recollection of the day if I’m honest. ‘I think the antidepressants are really knocking me for six,’ I tell Magda, taking a sip of the tea. It’s slightly bitter, not how I’d make it at all.
‘Everything okay?’ she asks, her eyes glued to the cup in my hand.
I swallow down more liquid, feel it burn the back of my throat. ‘Fine, just a little more milk next time.’ I arch my back, my shoulders knotted with stress.
She smiles. ‘Noted.’
‘Thanks for coming,’ I offer, feeling my eyes mist over once again. ‘I’m so sorry for what I said earlier. Everything is just so confusing right now.’
She doesn’t reply, instead choosing to look at me over the rim of her mug, an action I find myself mirroring. It’s obvious that the dynamics between us have shifted. No longer is the conversation effortless, no longer do we just ‘fit’. Although accusing her of trying to steal my husband and child was bound to alter things, wasn’t it?
‘So…’ I hesitate, desperate to discuss the message stitched into the sleepsuit but not quite sure how to broach it. At least if we can take it to the police the mental health team may think twice about locking me up. ‘What do you think I should do about Annette and Ron?’
Magda sighs but doesn’t offer a suggestion.
‘I knew she was never really pregnant, you know. Doesn’t even have a bump.’
‘Why do you say that?’ She stares into her cup.
I shake my head, unsure as to why she is asking such a question. ‘Because of the message on the sleepsuit! It was the same message I received in the cards. Don’t you see it was Annette and Ron all along?’ A moment of clarity washes over me. Why did I never see it before? ‘Oh God! The tablets!’ I cover my mouth, fear sinking my stomach. ‘They must have mixed up my medication on purpose, placed me on really strong tablets, maybe even hallucinogens. No wonder I’m losing my mind! Shit, we need to call the police.’
‘Louisa, stop it!’ Magda races over to me, prising the half-drunk tea from my hands, presumably before I drop it. She bangs the mug down on the work surface before taking both of my hands in hers. ‘You need to calm down,’ she says, her voice catching in her throat. ‘Can’t you see that you’re ill? Can’t you see that you need help?’
‘No, no, you saw the message!’ I shake my head, tears streaming down my face of their own accord. ‘Please, Magda, if you don’t believe me then nobody’s going to.’
I turn and try to run down the hallway and into the lounge but my legs suddenly feel as if they’ve been severed at the knee, like trying to run in a dream. Seeing the phone in its holster on the windowsill, I make a grab for it. It falls to the floor, and even though I’m desperate to pick it up, my fingers can’t seem to grab hold of it. I feel suddenly sick, exhaustion snaking up my spine, my muscles growing heavier and heavier until I’m sure I can’t possibly move. ‘I’m going to call the police,’ I mumble, hearing Magda behind me. ‘They need to know about Annette.’
‘Louisa, stop!’ She grabs hold of my wrist and drags me up, almost yanking my shoulder out of its socket. ‘Here, look!’ she says, the sleepsuit already in her hand. ‘Read it again!’
My eyes have a hard time adjusting from the bright kitchen lights to the dimness of the lounge, my eyelids feeling as if they’re being dragged down by dumbbells. I squint at the embroidered stitch, its italic font tilted slightly to the left like the scrawled writing inside the card. ‘I don’t understand.’ The letters dance around in front of my eyes, just like they used to many years ago before I learned how to read. ‘I can’t understand it.’
‘I’ll read it then, shall I?’ she says after a moment. ‘I love Mummy and Daddy’. Her finger stabs at the stitch, the letters falling into place in front of my eyes.
‘No, I… it can’t say that.’ I realise I am stuttering, my words no longer forming the correct sounds.
‘It does, Louisa. It’s nothing at all like the Bible quote inside the card.’
I stare at her, my eyes unblinking, a million memories clattering around inside my head almost at once.
‘What?’ Magda takes a step away from me, her eyes flitting everywhere but my face. ‘What’s the matter?’
I can hardly speak, my voice nothing other than a collection of broken syllables. ‘The card,’ I manage to say, fear and disbelief mingling together as one. ‘I never…’
‘What?’ she shouts. ‘What is it?’
A sudden calmness washes over me, almost like resignation at what is to come. ‘I never told you the card contained a Bible quote.’ I shake my head, finally realising who is behind everything. ‘It is you, isn’t it, Magda? It’s been you all along!’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Louisa
Now
‘Louisa, please… you’ve got it all wrong.’ Magda takes several steps back until the window ledge stops her in her tracks.
‘I haven’t!’ I scream, spit flying out of my mouth, my brief moment of shock giving way to fury. ‘You’ve ruined everything! This was meant to be my time with my family.’
She starts to cry, thick black mascara snaking down both sides of her face. ‘James told me about the quote,’ she says, each word stabbing at the air as a singular sound. ‘In the car today, he told me everything. That’s how I knew.’
I shake my head, positive she’s lying. ‘The guilt’s written all over your face!’ I swallow down the lump of fear that has wedged itself in my throat.
‘No, Louisa, you’re ill. It’s all in your mind. Remember the sleepsuit. You imagined the writing, remember? It’s the tablets. You’re not thinking straight.’ She attempts to reach out her hand towards me, the silver charms on her bracelet catching against the glow from the fairy lights draped around the window. The refraction is like a needle of glass through the centre of my face. ‘Come on,’ I hear her say, as I rub at both eyes with the tips of my fingers. ‘I’m your friend.’
‘You’re not my friend. I saw you, before, outside with James.’ The memory cuts through my blurred vision; Magda leaning in to James, her tone soft, her touch light. She may be right about the sleepsuit, but I didn’t hallucinate everything; not the card, not the way she cosied up to James earlier today, or the way she was with him over Christmas dinner. ‘You’re trying to have me sectioned. You want my husband and baby. The card, it was for a boy. You were the only person who knew we were having a boy.’
‘Look, I’m sorry, okay. I told Annette you were having a boy too. Perhaps it is her after all.’
I take a step backwards, the carpet under my bare feet draining away like quicksand. My head begins to spin, a surge of heat rolling up into my stomach. What is wrong with me? ‘I don’t feel well. I…’
‘You silly thing,’ she says, looking down at me. ‘What are you doing on the floor?’
‘I…’ My words fall away, thoughts and feelings all jumbled together. ‘I don’t feel well. I need an ambulance. Call me an ambulance.’