Page 61 of We Live Here Now

60

Emily

I wake at seven thirty just as a gray-blue washes through the darkness outside. Birds caw in the distance, already up and darting around the moor.

Warm under the covers, glad that Freddie left without waking me, I realize that for the first time in ages I’ve had a proper deep sleep. No bad dreams. No coma. No accident. And actually my leg doesn’t hurt too badly this morning, rather than waking to the deep, dull ache that makes me want to stay in bed rather than have to move it. Maybe I’m turning a corner.

And soon I’ll have a hundred and fifty thousand pounds. It’s a strange and alien thought, and for a minute it’s almost as if it was a dream. I’ve blackmailed Mark. I really have. I don’t know how I feel about that. Relieved, for sure. But also disturbed by how easily I did it.

My phone pings with a text from Merrily saying they’ll drop some equipment over later in prep for starting the job next week. There’s snow forecast and they want to make sure they can get everything up the lane now in case it gets icy. I answer that it’s okay, and if I’m out just do whatever they need to do as the gates are unlocked, but my stomach drops. At some point I’ll have to come up with a reason to delay most of the work I’ve planned with them if we’re going to sell the house. There’s no way I’m spending that big a chunk of Mark’s money on this place.

You wouldn’t have a hundred and fifty thousand pounds if it weren’t for this place.

I pad into the bathroom. It’s true, even if it goes in the am I going mad or is this post-sepsis syndrome list of crazy things in my head. If the bathroom door hadn’t stuck at those couple of inches, then I’d have come out and bumped into Mark, who would then have panicked and made up a reason for being awake and gone back to bed. And then, if the boot room door hadn’t opened, I’d never have been able to get the recording of him and Cat together. It’s just a coincidence; it has to be. There’s no such thing as ghosts, and if there is a draft, then that could easily have opened the boot room door. It almost makes sense, but as I brush my teeth I push the bathroom door forward and back and it moves smoothly, no hint of stiffness. Maybe there was a door wedge I hadn’t seen and the door caught on it. I look around for one, but I don’t find anything. I look to the bathroom mirror, and no steamy writing appears to give me clues. You will die here. That gives me flutters of disquiet even if the study has since remained undisturbed. If it was me, it was probably my hospital fears coming out from my subconscious. But still. You will die here. No one wants to see that.

Stop it , I tell myself. You’ll be away from this house soon and it won’t matter.

Did I mean what I said to Freddie last night about wanting our marriage to work? I think so. He’d never do to me what Mark and Cat have done to Iso and Russell. I’ve started to think back on our old dreams of living in France and running a little hotel or Airbnb. Maybe if we’re careful we could do that.

My period still hasn’t come. I’ll give it a few more days and then do another test. Who knows, maybe hormones have added to all the weirdness I’ve experienced. I let the hot water run over me and do my best not to think about Mrs. Tucker’s odd story. I won’t feed my post-sepsis delusions. There is nothing strange about the third floor.

I’m still feeling chirpy when I’m dressed and check that Mark got the form I filled in for the payment. I need to find a way to explain the money to Freddie at some point. Maybe I’ll tell him the truth when the cash is in? He’ll be so relieved to be out of the hole I bet he won’t even mind. If I’m okay with it, then that’s his excuse to be okay with it too. I’ve kept one secret from him; I’m not sure I should keep another. Not if I want us to work.

I don’t want to be around when Merrily and Pete come, so I decide to take myself out for the day, to Taunton. Buy myself something new to wear. Then do the supermarket in case snow does come. Maybe stop somewhere for lunch. Have a self-care day, as Iso would say.

I leave the heating on—maybe Freddie is right about the draft, but there’s no way I’m going to admit that—and wrap up warm. It’s going to be good to get out of Larkin Lodge for a few hours. A taste of the freedom to come.