‘I’m here. She’ll be fine. There’s no one out there.’
But I’m not convinced. ‘I won’t be long.’ Quickly, I move around the house, closing all the windows in each and every room, even the smaller windows that only a cat could fit through. I don’t want to take any chances. I won’t think about how warm the rooms will get without fresh air circulating. I can put up with the heat if it means my little girl will be safe. Lastly, I check the front door, turn the mortice lock and slide the chain across with shaking fingers.
I can’t remember the last time I felt fear like this. Actual spine-tingling fear. Maybe never. No, not never. There was one time when I was about thirteen or fourteen, walking home from school one day. I was alone on a quiet suburban street and it was winter, a dark afternoon with no one else around. I heard footsteps behind me, getting closer. I was too scared to turn around, somehow convinced it was a man about to attack me, my mind conjuring up all these unthinkable scenarios. I had worked myself up into such a state of clammy terror that I couldn’t think straight. I quickened my pace but didn’t want to run in case he chased after me, confirming my fears. Instead, I crossed over the road and slowed my pace. It was only when I saw it was actually a woman of my mother’s age that I felt a flood of foolish relief, despite my heart still battering my ribcage.
But that was a fear of my own creation. Not like this. Nothing like this.
I walk back into the kitchen, where Dom is nodding his head in time to the beat of the music from his iPod speakers while draining the water from a pan of rice. I check on Daisy, who’s still asleep, and I drink in the sight of her, grateful that she’s here. I could stare at her perfect face all night, but eventually I pull my gaze away, sit at the table and reach for my phone. I tap in a search for baby monitors picking up other signals. A whole screed of results appears – mainly old forum posts from 2010 to 2013. It seems it was quite a common occurrence with older monitors.
‘Dom.’
‘Everything okay?’ He lowers the volume on the speakers and turns to me, one eyebrow raised.
‘It says here that the older-style monitors can pick up other monitors’ signals.’ I turn my phone screen towards him, but he doesn’t look at it.
‘You’re gonna drive yourself mad worrying about it,’ Dom says. ‘I know you heard something that creeped you out, but there could be a simple explanation.’
‘Like what?’ I fold my arms across my chest, starting to feel irritated by his lack of concern.
‘Don’t look like that,’ he says. ‘I’m not saying you didn’t hear it. I’m just saying there could be an innocent explanation. I’m trying to reassure you.’
‘Like what?’ I repeat. ‘What could be the innocent explanation?’
‘Like… you heard someone else’s TV programme. Or you misheard the actual words.’
‘I know what I heard.’
‘Okay, say you did hear what you heard. It was someone else’s house. It wasn’t here. No one was trying to take Daisy.’
‘That doesn’t make it okay.’
‘No, I know. I know. Sorry. Maybe they were saying it innocently, like let’s take the baby to mum’s house, or let’s take the baby for a walk.’
‘It wasn’t anything like that. It was scary.’
‘What do you want to do about it?’ Dom asks, setting his wooden spoon down on the worktop.
‘I don’t know. Be on our guard I suppose. Keep a look out. Don’t let Daisy out of our sight.’
‘Okay. We can do that.’
I know I sound paranoid, but he wasn’t the one who heard those voices. If he had, I’m sure he would be just as frightened. That voice creeped me out. I keep hearing it in my mind over and over. Quick, let’s just take the baby now and go. Who was it? And what did they do?
Four
I lie on my side, gazing down at Daisy in her basket. It’s too dark to make out her features, but I can see her shape, and I know she’s asleep by the sound of her regular breathing. Dom wasn’t exactly thrilled at having her back in our bedroom. Don’t get me wrong, he loves our daughter, he just has a hard time sleeping with her in the same room. But one look at my expression told him he would have to accept it. At least for tonight. Anyway, I’ve had to make my own compromises, as Dom refused to shut the bedroom windows. I suppose he’s right – the heat would be unbearable otherwise.
So now, here I am, wide awake at 2 a.m., alert to every sound outside. Every breath of wind and distant dog bark makes me startle, setting my heart racing. I never usually mind the windows being open, but that was before. The rational part of my brain is telling me that if anyone were to break into our house and come into our bedroom, we would wake up, but the irrational part won’t allow me to sleep. I’m also paranoid that I’ve missed a window. Did I lock the one in the downstairs loo? I think I did, but I can’t be certain. I’m going to have to check. Maybe that’s what’s stopping me falling asleep. I’m sure once I’ve double checked the locks again, I’ll be able to relax.
I slide out of bed carefully, desperate not to wake Daisy or Dominic. As I tiptoe around Daisy towards the door, Dom murmurs, ‘Kirstie? What’re you doing?’
‘Loo,’ I reply.
‘Okay.’ He huffs and turns over.
I can feel his annoyance. I picture him lying there, eyes wide open, cursing me for waking him up. But I can’t stop thinking about the downstairs window. I need to go and check it.
Once I get there, I discover, of course, that it’s locked, as are all the other downstairs doors and windows. But at least I feel a little less on edge now I know for sure that the house is secure. I creep back upstairs and decide I may as well check Daisy’s room, the spare room and the bathroom. Once that’s done, I slip back into bed to lie beside my wide-awake husband, worrying about him on top of everything else.
* * *
Sunlight blazes through the bedroom windows as I sit up in bed, giving Daisy her morning feed. I feel out of sorts. Like part of me is still asleep. Like I’m floating above reality. Anxious – as though I’m about to take a hard exam or topple off a cliff.
Dominic comes into the bedroom. He’s already dressed in his suit and tie and he leans down to kiss me, the scent of his aftershave giving me a momentary feeling of normality. Everything is as it should be. Why, then, does it all feel so different?
‘Sorry I woke you last night,’ I say, bracing myself for him to be grumpy.
‘You didn’t wake me,’ he says, casting his eyes around the room, looking for something.
‘Yeah, when I got up to go to the bathroom, you asked me what I was doing.’
‘Oh, yeah, I vaguely remember something.’
‘I thought I’d ruined your night’s sleep.’
‘No. I slept fine. Have you seen my phone?’
Great. I tormented myself with guilt all night over nothing. ‘It’s on the dresser.’ I point to it.
‘Thanks. You’re out with Mel tonight, aren’t you?’ he says. ‘What time do you need me home?’
My stomach drops. I’d forgotten I was supposed to be going out for a meal with my old school friends this evening – my first night out since Daisy was born. I’ve been looking forward to it for ages, but I’m so, so tired and the thought of going out fills me with unease. How can I leave Daisy when there are possible child abductors in the area? I know Dominic will be with her, but he won’t be as careful as me. He’ll leave windows open, he might not be listening out for intruders.
‘The taxi’s supposed to be coming at seven,’ I say. ‘But actually, I don’t think I’m going to go. After what happened yesterday—’
‘What are you talking about?’ Dominic says, sitting on the end of the bed. ‘Of course you’re going to go. It’ll do you good to get out of the house for an evening. You deserve a night out with everyone. Time away from our little munchkin. You’ll love it. Anyway, I’ve got some serious father–daughter bonding time planned for tonight. We’re going to watch Top Gear.’