No One I Knew A McDine (top 10 novels to read txt) 📖

told Melanie. ‘A witness has come forward to say he saw a lone figure sitting on the riverbank close to where they found the wine bottle and empty Temazepam packets. He assumed the person was a fellow twitcher and thought nothing of it until he saw the story on the local news. Sam says it corroborates their theory that Sheila jumped in the river. I say it proves diddly squat.’

‘You don’t really think she’d come back for Immy, do you?’

I shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t be sleeping on the camp bed in Immy’s room otherwise, would I?’ I ran my finger over the panic button on the underside of the kitchen island. It was my talisman, my lucky charm, and the knowledge it was there, ready to summon help whenever I needed it, went some way towards soothing my anxiety.

‘Anyway,’ I said. ‘We were talking about you, not me. I know you’re still coming to terms with what happened to Bill, but there’s something else, isn’t there? Something that’s troubling you.’

Melanie stared out of the window. Her shoulders rose as she took a deep breath, and I thought she was about to tell me what was bothering her when Nate bowled into the room asking when lunch was ready, and the moment was gone.

The days slipped by, comforting in their familiarity, and slowly the strain of the last week seeped away. The fact that Immy seemed unfazed by her ordeal helped. Perhaps when she was older, the time she spent drugged in Sheila’s bungalow would haunt her dreams, but for now she was as carefree and exuberant as she’d always been.

On Tuesday afternoon Stuart and I ventured into the garden to inspect the river levels. Nate and Immy watched from the kitchen window as we squelched across the lawn to the nearest water gate.

‘Bloody hell,’ I said as I watched the swollen river surge past. ‘I’ve never seen it so high.’

‘It won’t take much for it to burst its banks. I think we should lay the sandbags,’ Stuart said.

‘What about the kids? We can’t leave them in the house on their own.’

Stuart touched my arm. ‘They’d be absolutely fine, you know. But if you’re worried, they can come out and help.’

Bundled up in wellies and waterproofs, Nate and Immy took it in turns to ride atop the sandbags as we wheeled them from the front of the house to the back.

‘Will we be safe from the river now?’ Nate asked, once we’d finished stacking the sandbags in front of the patio and back doors.

Stuart prodded one with his foot. It didn’t budge. ‘Safe as houses,’ he said. ‘Now, who’s for a hot chocolate? I reckon we’ve earned it.’

‘Me!’ Immy cried.

‘Me, too!’ Nate yelled.

We laughed as they clambered over the sandbags and into the kitchen, discarding wellies and coats along the way.

‘Funny kids,’ I said, my heart expanding with love.

Stuart’s arm snaked around my shoulders, reassuringly familiar, and I sank against him.

‘Cleo….’ he murmured into my hair. ‘Do you think…?’

He left the question dangling, his lips warm against my ear.

‘I don’t know, Stu.’ I turned to face him. ‘I just don’t know.’

‘We should try. For the kids. Don’t you think?’

Suddenly I didn’t want to think at all. I didn’t want to consider the consequences, worry about the future. In that moment, as the rain dripped off our hoods and splashed onto the patio, as the river surged and frothed at the bottom of the garden, I wanted to feel cherished, desired. I wanted my husband to hold me close and tell me he loved me. I wanted to feel safe. I wanted him.

That night, instead of wriggling into a sleeping bag on the camp bed in Immy’s room, I followed Stuart up the stairs to our bedroom and we made love as rain buffeted the window and cars swished through puddles in the street outside. As I drifted off to sleep, a memory of the evening I’d gone to the warehouse looking for Niamh came to me. I’d imagined myself standing at a junction with half a dozen paths ahead, each representing a different future for our family.

I’d found Immy at the end of the path I’d taken, but what happened next? Would we have our happy ever after, or did another fate await us?

I woke with a start, groggy and disorientated, my heart hammering in my chest. I’d dreamt I was locked in Sheila’s box room, coarse carpet tiles wiry against my cheek, a glint of metal above me, and the air ringing with Sheila’s crazed laughter, as deadly as shattering glass.

I stretched out a tentative hand, almost sobbing with relief when my fingers grazed the smooth silkiness of our Egyptian cotton sheet. My hand crept towards Stuart’s solid back and I spooned against him and forced myself to breathe deeply. There was nothing to worry about. I’d had a bad dream, that was all. I curved myself around Stuart and closed my eyes, but the dull ache of a full bladder had killed any chances of nodding off.

I crept out of bed and was on my way to the en suite when I changed my mind. If I used the family bathroom, I could check on the children on the way back to bed. Then I might stand a chance of falling asleep. I crossed the landing to the bathroom, yelping as I stubbed my toe on the edge of the bath.

Now thoroughly awake, I checked on Nate first. The previous winter he’d declared night lights were for wimps, although the streetlight outside his window ensured his room was never in total darkness. Bathed in a faint orange glow, he was lying on his back snoring softly. I straightened his duvet and kissed his damp forehead, smiling as he murmured, ‘Not now, Obi-Wan, my tea’s ready.’

Immy’s room was at the back of the house. We’d bought her a lamp that projected a starry night sky onto her walls and ceiling for her birthday, and the