Page 43 of The Girlfriend’s Secret

And I have no one to blame for it but myself.

I thought I was being clever by coming here, but now I’ve gone and got myself trapped and it feels like the only way not to get caught is to spend a sleepless night lying under this bed, waiting for dawn. I can’t even risk falling asleep in case I snore or make any kind of noise that could alert Liane. If I did, I would wake up to the sight of a police officer pulling me out from under the bed.

The only thing I can do is listen, so that’s what I do as I hear Liane moving around in the bedroom next to this one. Eventually, the light goes off again. All is quiet now, and after several minutes without hearing another sound, I have to assume she is trying to get some sleep. I relax slightly due to the fact that I’m not going to be discovered here anytime soon, but any relief is short-lived. I really don’t want to have to lie here all night, but dare I risk leaving my position? In the end, I decide to stay put. Even if I did somehow make it out, I haven’t got anywhere to go. At least here, I’m relatively warm and reasonably comfortable. The carpet beats concrete, and a roof over my head, or a bed in this case, beats being totally exposed to the weather outside.

But before I can try and get as comfortable as I can, I hear the sound of a light switch going on. A moment later, I hear footsteps, and suddenly, the bedroom door is opening.

Liane is coming in.

What is she doing? I thought she was asleep. I can hardly ask her what she’s up to. All I can do is hold my breath again.

I can see Liane’s bare feet now, moving across the carpet so close to my head. If she bent down, she would see me under here, but she’s not doing that.

She’s doing something almost as bad, though.

She’s getting into the bed above me.

I have no idea why Liane just changed her mind about where to sleep and can only assume the first bed she tried didn’t feel comfortable enough. But now she is trying this bed, the last bed in the house I wanted her to try, and I am forced to listen to the sound of her wriggling under the duvet above me.

The bed creaks a little as Liane gets into position, and I’m forced to clamp a hand over my mouth through fear of inadvertently making a noise. All it would take is a little air escaping my lips at a higher volume than normal and I would be rumbled. I imagine Liane would scream if she realised there was someone under the bed, before she would go through other states, from shock to anger, all whilst trying to grab hold of me and stop me from getting away.

If only my boyfriend could see me now.

Maybe he would give up on me.

Everything goes quiet above me and it stays that way for a while. I can keep track of the time by looking at the clock on my phone and that’s how I’m able to see when it reaches the half-hour mark since Liane last made a sound. She must be asleep. But still I dare not move. I don’t move until, just short of forty minutes, I hear a wonderful sound.

Snoring.

Liane is definitely asleep and after that most recent scare, I am most definitely getting out of here while I can.

I roll out from under the bed and slowly get to my feet, keeping my eyes on the still shape on the bed before me. But I don’t linger, taking my bag from under the bed where it was hiding with me and sneaking out of the bedroom before creeping down the stairs. Step by step, slowly but surely, creeping towards the front door.

Once I have made it, I use my key to unlock it before stepping outside and then relocking the door, as Liane will expect to find it in the morning. Then I walk away from the house as quickly as I can, not knowing where I’m going, only that it has to be somewhere well away from her.

TWENTY-NINE

LIANE

I dream of my family. All of us, together, on a holiday, enjoying some sunshine. I see my boys as youngsters, playing in the pool. I see my husband, lying on a lounger with a beer in his hand. And I see my mother, sitting up in a chair and watching her grandsons with a smile on her face. As for me, I’m happy, and why wouldn’t I be when I’m on holiday? Especially a free one. Mum paid for this trip. That’s not the only reason she is here with us though. She did offer to give us money for only the four of us to go away, aware that Frederik and I had been saving up to buy a bigger home. But we insisted she come with us if she was paying, so here she is.

I am glad she is here. It’s nice to have Mum around.

One day, sadly, that won’t be the case.

When I open my eyes, I am very quickly reminded that Mum has gone and my family will always feel different to how it did on that sunny day by the pool many years ago. I suppose it could have been worse. I could have had a nightmare instead of that pleasant dream. I could have had a nightmare about Haven and her wild accusations that threaten to disrupt my family even more than it has already been disrupted since Mum passed. Thankfully, I didn’t, so I didn’t see Haven in my sleep. With a bit of luck, I won’t be seeing her now that my eyes are open either.

I get out of bed, the one in this spare room that I slept in last night after deeming my mother’s main bed to be far too uncomfortable for me. I have no idea how Mum slept in that particular bed every night. The mattress felt like it was full of lumps and bumps, although I am aware that everyone has their own preferences and never more so than when it comes to our own beds. But this other bed was comfortable enough for me to achieve a few hours’ sleep, and while I let out a yawn as I make my way into the bathroom, I got more rest than I thought I would when I arrived here last night.

I wash and then return to the bedroom to get dressed. But as I do, I notice something on the carpet by the bed. What is that?

Kneeling down, I pick up the item to take a closer look. When I do, I see that it is an earring. Did it belong to my mother? I doubt it because this looks far more fashionable than the type of jewellery she was known to wear. But if not hers then whose? It’s definitely not mine. It’s not my style at all. But who else does that leave?

I think about it for a moment before she pops into my head again.

Haven.

Could this earring belong to her? I try to think if I have seen her wearing something like this, and the more I think about it, the more I realise I might have. But what is it doing here, on my late mother’s carpet?