Page 36 of 2 Books in One Bundle

‘Why was your mother arrested?’ he asked.

Her knife and fork hovered above the plate. ‘My mother...she...’

Louisa looked up at him, her eyes tight. Her knuckles whitening as she held her cutlery in a tight grip. His heart rate kicked up as he waited. She was opening herself up to him, but he wasn’t sure what he’d find when she did.

Louisa’s chest rose and fell as if she was taking a steadying breath.

‘My mother was arrested because she used to hurt me.’

CHAPTER NINE

THEWORDSHADbeen trapped, but Matteo’s question had seemed to be the key to her voice, and they’d come out all in a rush. Maybe he hadn’t heard. He simply sat there, staring at her. Mouth opening slightly as if wanting to speak. Closing. Then he put down his cutlery, knife and fork crossed on his plate.

‘When you say “hurt”...’

The psychologist had known when Louisa had walked into their office what had happened. She’d received a referral, Louisa’s records. Mae had known too. The only person she had ever really had to tell fresh was the police officer who took her statement.

She had never told another soul who hadn’t known or suspected something of what had gone on first. Now it was as if she couldn’t stop.

‘My mother used to pretend that I was sick. When doctors didn’t believe I was unwell, she’dmakeme sick. I spent time in hospital getting tests, having procedures, to find out what was wrong with me. There was nothing. For a while she convinced me that I wasn’t well, and that if I didn’t get treatment, I might die like my father had. Munchausen by Proxy, some people called it. Others called it Factitious Disorder Imposed on Another, which I always thought was a mouthful.’

Matteo reached out, took her hand in his. Squeezed her fingers.

Take my hand, Louisa.

Somehow, his touch made her feel braver.

‘My God, I had no idea.’

‘Nobody did.’

He shook his head. His thumb gently rubbing back and forth across her skin. Somehow settling her racing heartbeat, grounding her as memories of that time came flooding back.

‘When did it start?’

‘After my father died.’

‘That’s when you were only six. Just after...’

After she’d left Mae’s for that last time. Her mother wouldn’t let her go back, no matter how many times she’d asked to or Mae had invited her. Her mother probably knew Mae would see through the lies.

‘Yes, just after that summer.’

‘How did the doctors not see?’

That was a question she’d asked herself numerous times over the years since. Or the other, which he was kind enough not to voice.

Why didn’t you say anything?

‘My mother was clever. Doctors knew she was grieving. I believe they simply couldn’t comprehend her being the one to make me ill, given my father had died. She told me that she was trying to make me better so that I didn’t die like he did. That was an easy way to control a child because I was terrified. It was easy to make me look sick too. She started cutting back my food. Said I had intolerances. Fed me Dad’s medications. I was always so thin and tired. Cutting my hair...’

Matteo made a wounded kind of noise, like coming deep from his soul. Clenched her hand a little tight. Released it.

‘Louisa...’

‘It’s okay. Really. I’ve moved on.’

But had she? Regular people didn’t panic when someone suggested a haircut. They just got a trim. They didn’t get overwhelmed buying clothes, or in a bustling city. Did they?