‘Really? You never mentioned it.’
‘That’s because it wasn’t a big deal. Also, I felt a bit guilty, you know, not coming straight home.’ His cheeks redden.
‘Since when have I ever minded you having a beer with friends?’ I’m a bit taken aback by his reply. But I suppose I’m satisfied that he’s telling the truth.
‘Bloody Martin, snooping around and stirring things up,’ Dom says, frowning. ‘But apart from being a gossip, he’s pretty harmless, Kirst. Anyway, I don’t see what any of this has got to do with having Daisy to sleep in our room. Sure, our neighbour is a bit of an oddball, but we’ve lived next door to him for four years. You’ve never been worried about him before.’
‘We’ve never had a baby before.’
Dominic comes and sits next to me on the bed, puts his arm around my shoulder and kisses the side of my head. ‘I think it’s natural to worry about our daughter, but I honestly don’t believe Martin is dangerous.’
‘How would you know that? You can’t see inside his head, or inside his house. I think I should call the police.’
‘And say what?’
‘I could tell them about the basement, and the toy shop bags.’
‘Really?’ Dom tilts his head. ‘Last time I checked, neither of those things is illegal.’
‘But if you add that to the baby-monitor thing, and the doll, and the fact I heard a baby crying the other night…’ As I say it out loud, I realise that the police would never take me seriously. It’s not enough to go on. I need solid evidence.
‘Call them if you like, Kirstie, but I honestly don’t think they’ll do anything.’
I shrug Dom’s arm off my shoulders and get to my feet. ‘Fine. Forget it. I need to give Daisy her bath.’
‘I’ll do it,’ he replies.
‘It’s okay, I can do it,’ I say, hearing the martyred tone in my voice.
‘Let me do the bath,’ Dom insists. ‘I haven’t seen her all day.’
And whose fault is that, I think uncharitably. ‘Okay,’ I agree.
‘And, Kirstie,’ he adds. ‘I’m going to move the cot back into her room. We need to get back to normality.’
‘Fine. Do what you want.’ I’d been looking forward to me and Dom spending a nice evening together, but we’re already at each other’s throats. I know he thinks I’m over-anxious and paranoid – I mean, I already think that about myself – but I’m not about to take any chances with our daughter’s safety. ‘Dom, if you move her cot back, then I’m going to sleep in there with her.’
‘Really?’ he says, his voice full of dismay.
‘I’m not leaving Daisy on her own.’
‘Okay,’ he agrees. ‘You stay with her for a night or two, just until you feel better about things. Look, why don’t you go downstairs and chill out. I’ll bath Daisy and sort out the sleeping arrangements.’
I leave him to it, wishing I could untie this tight knot of anger in my chest.
* * *
It feels strange to be lying on the futon in Daisy’s room, and not just because it’s so low to the ground. It’s odd without Dominic by my side. But what choice do I have? Leaving Daisy alone all night just isn’t a possibility. Thankfully, things between me and Dom improved after our earlier disagreement. Neither of us mentioned Martin, or Daisy’s sleeping arrangements, for the rest of the evening, and we managed to relax and not fall out over anything else. Dom didn’t try to persuade me back into our bedroom, for which I’m grateful, but if he thinks this arrangement is just for one or two nights, then he’s mistaken. I won’t move back until I’m certain she’s no longer in any danger.
I lie awake for a while, listening to my daughter’s quiet movements and murmurs, mulling over the day’s events. My quiet life seems to have been taken over by strange occurrences. Magnolia Close has always been a sleepy little cul-de-sac where everyone minds their own business, except, of course, for Martin, but he’s just a harmless old busybody – or so I thought. Now, it’s as though a strange new world has converged on my doorstep, threatening my peaceful, contented existence. Or am I being paranoid? Imagining things where there is nothing. Even Lorna was rude to me today. And, okay, she’s always been stand-offish, but that was more in a keeping-to-herself kind of way, not a slam-the-door-in-my-face way. The stress of moving house must be getting to her.
I turn onto my side and close my eyes, trying to let sleep take me. I’ve already checked the doors and windows twice since coming to bed. I desperately want to check them again, but I know I shouldn’t. I keep imagining that Martin is out there trying the handles on the back door. I picture him in my mind’s eye – his yellowing teeth, his ashy hair. A sudden, terrifying thought flies at me. What if Martin swiped a key from our house? He could have done that, couldn’t he? I think back to when he’s called round here on past occasions. I don’t think he’s ever got further than the front doorstep. But he could easily have climbed our back fence and crept in through the back doors while we were in another room. If he has a key, then it won’t matter if the doors are locked. He could get in any time he wanted. The thought makes me go cold. I wish I could get the locks changed, but Dom wouldn’t understand, and besides, we can’t afford it. I’ll have to try to work something out.
I peel the sheet off and get to my feet. I’ve thought of a temporary solution – a warning system. First, I pad over to the cot to check on Daisy. Faint moonlight highlights her rounded face. Love swells in my chest and it’s all I can do to not reach down and gather her up in my arms. But I can’t risk her crying out and waking Dom. I gaze at her for a few more seconds before creeping downstairs.
We keep half of Daisy’s toys in a basket in the back room. In her short life, she’s already amassed quite a collection – the usual cuddly creatures and plastic offerings, along with some more environmentally friendly wooden toys. I pull out a random handful from the basket, cringing as they clatter together. Then, I line them up in front of the back door. I lay a few more outside the kitchen and place the rest by the front door. Now, if anyone breaks in, hopefully the scattered toys will form a noisy trip hazard, alerting me and Dom. Before returning upstairs, I check all the locks and test the handles once more, although if Martin does have a key, a locked door won’t make any difference.
Back upstairs, I check on Daisy, lie back down on the hard futon and close my eyes, more relaxed now that my warning system is in place. I really think I might actually manage to get to sleep…
Fourteen
I wake, but my mind is woolly and slow, my mouth dry, temples pulsing with tiredness. My brain trawls through the events of yesterday. My disagreement with Dom. My broken night’s sleep. Perhaps that’s why I have such a terrible headache today. I curse the hardness of this futon, roll onto my back and crack open one eyelid, then another, cringing against another bright morning.
The house feels quiet. Either it’s extremely early and Dom is still asleep, or it’s really late and he’s already left for work. I don’t usually sleep late. Maybe I needed it.
I sit up and roll my shoulders. My boobs are throbbing with milk. I need to feed Daisy. Hauling myself to my feet, I shuffle across to her cot. She’s not there. Must be downstairs with Dom. Maybe he’s defrosted some milk and fed her already to give me a little lie in. I smile to myself. Dom is probably trying to make things up to me.