I close my eyes, squeeze them shut, try to pretend this is a dream. I’m going to wake up any second now because this isn’t happening. And then the hand is roughly removed, and I let out a gasp, double over, clasp my stomach. I need to protect my baby.
A smell of a strong floral perfume fills my nostrils and I look up, my head seemingly taking an eternity to raise itself – it feels like everything is happening in slow motion right now.
‘You’re prettier than I thought you’d be.’
Her words both confuse and terrify me, and I back up against the door, my hand still splayed out over my stomach. I don’t know what to do.
‘How did you get in here?’
Her eyes glance over my shoulder at the door behind me. ‘You made it too easy.’
I frown, look behind me. I remember Michael took the rubbish out a couple of hours ago… We always check every door is locked before we go to bed, before we go out. Always, without fail. At least I thought we did.
‘I was just going to rock up on your doorstep, invite myself in, but, you know, it was nice of you to give me an easier entrance. Glad I checked first. All I had to do was scale that fence and there I was, out there, in your garden. Michael talked a lot about his garden. He’s got a vegetable patch, right? Over by the summer house?’
Who the hell is she? How does she know about Michael’s vegetable patch, my summer house? How does she know where we live?
She raises her eyes to the high ceiling, her mouth falling slightly open, and I watch her – this woman who’s invaded our home. I watch as she looks around her, turning a full three hundred and sixty degrees, spinning around until she’s back facing me. ‘You have a lovely home.’ She drops her head forward, her eyes staring straight at me. ‘And you … Ellie, isn’t it?’ Her head falls to one side again as she looks me up and down. ‘I don’t know … I guess I expected someone…’ She lets that sentence tail off, but her eyes continue to stare right through me, and I feel that fear rising, I’m terrified. ‘It doesn’t matter…’
She shakes her head as she turns away, walks back out into the kitchen; and that’s when I reach behind me. I try to fumble for the door handle, shifting my body slightly, I don’t want to turn my back on her for too long, I just need to see what I’m doing. But that was a mistake, turning away from her, even for a second; she’s behind me before I can grab hold of the handle. The kick she gives to the back of my legs knocks the breath right out of me, and I fall to the ground, hitting my head on the tiled floor as I land. Her fingers grasp my wrist, drag me up off the floor, a wave of pain shooting up my arm. I must have landed on it. But I don’t have time to dwell on that. I don’t even have time to take another breath before she’s thrown me back against the floor-to-ceiling window, her fingers winding in my hair, yanking my head back. Her sweet, cloying perfume is unbearably strong, and I feel a sickening jolt of fear at what this woman might do to my baby.
‘He loves me. Did you know that? Me and Michael, we were meant to be together. We’re going to be together.’
I don’t know what she’s talking about, I don’t understand…
‘You have no idea, do you?’ she sneers, tugging at my hair, and I cry out as another wave of pain hits me, one that feels like my hair is being ripped from the roots. ‘No idea that your husband is in love with another woman. With me. Your husband loves me.’
I shake my head. This is not true. It can’t be.
‘I knew it the second I saw him. I knew he was the one. Michael knows it too, he just won’t admit it, not yet. But he will, eventually. All that time he spent with me, all that attention he showered on me, he wouldn’t have done that, would he? If he didn’t love me. So, you – I need to deal with you. You’re just getting in the way now. You’re getting in the way of me and him being together.’
She lets go of me, pushes me back against the glass with a force so hard I’m surprised it didn’t shatter, and I stay completely still for a second or two as the breath is forced out of me, painful and ragged as it escapes the confines of my throat.
My hands don’t leave my stomach. I’m desperate to protect my baby. I have no idea what this woman wants, because, what she’s telling me it makes no sense.
I slowly raise my head, but her eyes are down, they’re looking at my hands resting on my stomach, and her expression changes so quickly it’s utterly terrifying, because she’s guessed now.
‘You’re pregnant.’
It wasn’t a question, but I nod anyway. I can’t breathe, can’t speak; I just want her out of my house.
‘You’re having Michael’s baby?’
She doesn’t wait for my answer, and the terror that swamps me as she rushes towards me is suffocating, the kick to my stomach devastatingly brutal, and I cry out as my legs give way beneath me. I hit the floor again, and she continues to kick me. She’s screaming words I can’t make out. She’s hysterical. I squeeze my eyes shut as kick after kick rain down on my body. The only thing I can do is curl my knees up to my chest, keep them there, try to maintain some kind of makeshift shield for my baby. I can’t even cry. I’m too terrified, too scared of what’s happening here.
And then it stops, just like that. But I stay curled up; the foetal position seems the safest place to be right now. I keep my eyes closed, and I try to breathe through the pain, aware that, suddenly, all has gone quiet. I can only hear my panicked breathing, my heart hammering hard and fast against the threatening silence. She hasn’t gone. I know she hasn’t. I can still feel her here, in this room, I just don’t know what she’s doing. And I want to look, I want to see what’s happening, but I can’t open my eyes. My brain isn’t letting me. It’s almost like it’s shutting down all my senses, one by one.
‘You can’t have his baby. You … you can’t … have his baby … he doesn’t want you any more…’
Her tone is calmer, she’s lost that hysterical edge, but that just makes it even more terrifying. Each word she speaks is filled with an unspoken, sinister threat, and I feel hot, angry, scared tears finally start to roll down my cheeks. I’m helpless, but I need to do something. I need to get out of here. Is this woman high? Or is she just fucking crazy? I don’t know…
My eyes spring open as she grabs hold of my arm, yanks me up from the floor, presses her hand against my stomach. She’s staring at me as though I’m nothing. Nobody. ‘You can’t have his baby,’ she repeats, her voice barely audible, and as she puts her other hand over my mouth the smell of her perfume hits me again, causing me to gag. I can barely breathe. ‘Do you hear me?’ And then she laughs, just a small, quiet laugh; and she steps back, removing her hand from my mouth. ‘You know what? It doesn’t matter.’ She shakes her head, continuously, over and over again. It’s terrifying to watch. Her eyes stay locked on mine, but she isn’t speaking now, and I don’t know whether this silence is better or worse.
She breaks the stare, her eyes darting this way and that, as though she’s looking for something. I don’t know what, and I don’t care; I just want her out of here.
‘What’s in there?’
She jerks her head in the direction of the indoor swimming pool at the far end of the orangery, the dim lights that surround the small oval pool making
