‘But what if it does affect us? What if he’s after Daisy? Don’t forget, I saw those Toy Shack bags at the top of the cellar stairs.’
‘I thought you were over all this, Kirstie?’ Dom stops walking around and gives me a long stare. ‘Moaning Myrtle is not after Daisy. That’s just… ridiculous.’
‘How do you know?’ I feel my blood pressure rising at Dom’s dismissal of my fears. ‘You’re not the one home alone all day with our daughter. I feel… I feel like he’s always watching us.’
‘Watching you?’ Dom’s expression darkens. ‘Have you seen him out there? Looking at the house.’
‘No,’ I say. ‘It’s just a feeling I get.’
‘Have you thought that maybe it’s just that you’re overtired, like the doctor said?’
I roll my eyes.
‘What?’ Dom says. ‘It could be, couldn’t it? The anxiety and lack of sleep.’
‘Is this going to be like the thing where men blame everything on our periods?’
‘No! Course not. I just wondered if, maybe…’
‘Maybe what?’
‘Maybe you might be a little paranoid – but don’t take that the wrong way. I’m just trying to reassure you about Martin.’
‘Well, telling me I’m paranoid is not reassuring.’
‘I don’t mean paranoid, I mean…’
‘… paranoid.’ I finish his sentence for him.
‘Kirstie.’
‘What?’ I snap.
‘I don’t want to argue about Moaning bloody Myrtle. Can’t we just have an evening without talking about the neighbours?’
‘I wish we could,’ I say, getting to my feet, ‘but I can’t help it if I’m worried for our daughter’s safety.’
‘So what do you want me to do?’ Now it’s his turn to snap.
‘I don’t know… maybe just take me seriously for a moment, instead of making me feel like a crackpot!’ My voice has risen to a cry, but I know that last comment was unfair. It’s more likely that I’m doubting my own sanity. My head pounds, whether a hangover from the sunstroke or in reaction to our argument I’m not sure. Either way, I feel like shit.
‘Look, Kirst, if you really are worried about Martin and his basement, how about I go over there right now and ask to see what’s down there?’
I let out a long, slow breath and try to absorb what he’s just said. ‘You can’t do that,’ I finally say. ‘He’ll know we’ve been snooping.’
Dom clears his throat theatrically. ‘He’ll know you’ve been snooping. But seriously, I’ll go over there now if it will get you to relax.’
My heart misses a beat as I consider the possibility for a second. ‘It could be risky to go asking him questions. If there’s something strange going on, he might try to hurt you. To shut you up. I’ve already had a threatening phone call, remember?’
‘You’ve been watching too many of your Scandi crime thrillers,’ Dom says. ‘It’s Moaning Myrtle; I’m pretty sure I could take him if it came to it. Look, do you want me to go over there or not? If yes, I can go now before my bike ride.’
‘No,’ I say, panicking at the thought. ‘Don’t go over there. Promise me you won’t.’
‘I won’t go if you don’t want me to. Just thought it might help put your mind at rest.’
I’d never forgive myself if Dom got hurt. I know he thinks this threat is all in my head, but I can’t take the chance that it’s real. I’ll have to get proof of what’s going on next door without tipping Martin off. Which means going round there while he’s out. And I can’t tell Dom about what I’m planning. He’s already starting to worry about my mental health, this would just confirm things. No, I’ll sort this out on my own. It’s the safest way.
Twenty-Six
I’m making up batches of pre-prepared meals for Daisy, blending them into a smooth mush and freezing them for when weaning starts in earnest. At the moment we’re still on the banana and avocado stage – introducing different foods slowly. I spoon the gloopy mixture into the multicoloured ice-cube trays. I’ve also done some baking. The act of following a recipe always has a calming effect, and I need things to calm me after the events of last week.
I’ve been keeping myself locked up in the house with Daisy for the past couple of days. Dom was training most of the weekend and now he’s on a two-day course in Bristol, so he won’t be back until tomorrow.
The oven timer beeps, signalling that the cakes are ready, although I already knew that by the warm vanilla aroma wafting through the kitchen. Daisy is strapped into her high chair sucking on a rice cake and watching my every move. I stick my tongue out at her and she gurgles at me as I don the oven gloves and lift out the tray of cupcakes. I’m going to ice them and take them over to Mel as a peace offering.
She tried calling round here a couple of times over the weekend, but I wasn’t up to seeing anyone, so I either ignored the doorbell or asked Dom to tell her I was asleep. I heard them whispering together downstairs. I hate the thought of them talking about me, discussing how over-protective I’ve become and how paranoid and forgetful. I wouldn’t be surprised if Dom has told her about my trip to the doctor and they’re feeling sorry for poor nutty-as-a-fruitcake Kirstie. I know that’s uncharitable – they’ll have my best interests at heart, but it still makes me feel crappy. I don’t want to be the subject of people’s gossip and sympathy, even if it is my husband and my best friend. Especially if it’s my husband and my best friend.
So, I’ll go over there and clear the air. Make sure there’s no bad feeling between us about money, or about Tamsin. Make a joke about myself if I have to. Mel always responds well to humour. We’ll have a laugh about my crazy baby-brain, and all will be forgotten.
Once the cakes are cooled and iced, I change Daisy into a pretty blue and white polka-dot dress and walk across the road. Mel’s car is in the drive, so I’m assuming she’s home.
‘Hey.’ I give a sheepish smile as she opens the door.
She looks at me for a second, before pulling me and Daisy into a squishy hug. ‘I’ve been worried about you, Kirst. Come in.’
I follow her through to the kitchen and hand her the Tupperware container of cupcakes. ‘A peace offering for ignoring you over the weekend.’
‘You didn’t need to do that,’ she says. ‘But I’m bloody glad you did. Tea and cakes, yum.’ Mel sets the cakes on the counter, puts the kettle on and takes Daisy from my arms.
‘I’m so glad I came over. Definitely need a bit of normality.’ I plonk myself on a stool and peel the lid off the cake tub.
‘I’m touched you think I’m normal.’ Mel raises an eyebrow and pulls a face, making me laugh.
The kettle boils, but Mel is still holding Daisy so I offer to make the tea.
‘Go on then,’ Mel replies, making baby noises at a giggling Daisy. ‘Oh, Kirstie, you know last week when Tamsin came over? I think you were right.’
‘Hmm?’
‘Yeah, she was really over-friendly, asking me round to her place, saying to bring the kids over for a playdate. And when I suggested inviting you along, she made an excuse that Daisy was younger than our kids and that it would be annoying having a baby crying and fussing. Can you believe it?’
‘Charming!’ The woman’s unbelievable.
‘I know, right. Think she realised she’d gone too far. She backtracked and said she just meant we wouldn’t be able to relax and talk. Not sure how relaxing she thinks it would be with four young children running around anyway.’
‘I’m not surprised, though,’ I say, taking a couple of mugs out of the cupboard. ‘She hates my guts.’
‘I think she’s just resentful,’ Mel replies. ‘Because Dom realised he made a mistake with her. That’s why she pretended to be pregnant. To try and get him to stay with her.’
I nod. ‘But that was years ago. Why would she hold on to such ancient history… unless she still has feelings for Dom?’
‘No,’ Mel says. ‘I’m sure she doesn’t.’
‘She’s divorced though.’
‘So am I; doesn’t mean I’m going to ravage your husband.’ Mel raises an eyebrow at me.
‘Sorry, I just meant—’