Livvy held up the offending bag. ‘I forgot to bring Leo’s lunch and snacks earlier.’ She stepped into the hallway, past her dad and into the sitting room. And when she saw who was there, relaxing on her parents’ sofa, it was as though her heart had lurched into her throat.
Next to her mum, bouncing Leo on her lap, was Imogen.
Livvy swooped Leo out of Imogen’s arms, held him tight against her chest. ‘What are you doing here?’
Her mum and Imogen jumped to their feet, Hazel’s face infused with panic. ‘Imogen just popped round, she just wanted to see Leo before you left for London.’
‘And you let her in? After everything I’ve told you?’
‘I’m sorry.’ Imogen glanced between Hazel and Robert as though waiting for someone to come to her rescue. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. But when you wouldn’t let me see Leo—’
‘Oh, so it’s my fault that you’ve wheedled your way into my parents’ house?’
‘No, of course not, it’s just—’
‘Let’s all try to calm down, shall we?’
Livvy whipped her head around to her dad. ‘Don’t tell me to calm down. You let a total stranger into your house to play with my son and you don’t think I should be angry?’ She turned back to Imogen. ‘How did you even know where my parents live?’
Imogen’s eyes darted between the trio of faces, her cheeks the colour of beetroot.
‘Of course. You followed me, didn’t you?’
‘I just wanted to hold Leo. He’s my grandson.’
‘And he’s my son. And you don’t get to decide if you have access to him.’ Livvy’s heart thudded in her chest, her hands shaking. ‘After everything you put Dominic through, you really think I’m going to let you anywhere near my son?’
Imogen’s body became rigid, her voice implacable. ‘You shouldn’t believe everything Dominic tells you.’
Disbelief surged through Livvy’s veins. ‘I’ve had enough of this. It’s got to stop. You can’t come round here, harassing my parents like this.’
‘She wasn’t really harassing us, love—’
Livvy shot a furious glance at her mum. ‘She turns up here, uninvited, having followed me to your address, to get access to my son when I’ve explicitly told her she can’t see him, and you don’t think that’s harassment?’ Livvy felt as though she had stepped into an alternative reality where nobody but her could see common sense. She turned back to Imogen. ‘You need to leave.’
For a moment, Imogen stood still, like a rabbit caught in the headlights. And then she seemed to gather her senses, collected her bag from the floor, stood up again slowly. ‘I really didn’t mean to upset you. All I ever wanted was to see my grandson.’ She let her eyes drift down towards Leo’s face, then back up to Livvy. ‘I know you don’t want to hear this, but Dominic’s always had a habit of making up stories, ever since he was little. I just wish you’d let me explain—’
‘There’s absolutely nothing I want to hear from you. You need to leave.’
Imogen hesitated for a moment before turning to Hazel. ‘I’m sorry to have troubled you. I really didn’t mean any harm.’
Hazel nodded, gestured towards the door. ‘Let me show you out.’
Livvy did not meet Imogen’s gaze as her mum led her out of the room. Indignation blazed in her cheeks and she waited until she heard the definitive click of the front door and her mum had returned before trusting herself to speak. ‘What were you thinking? Why did you let her in?’
‘What did you expect us to do? Shut the door in her face? She’s Leo’s grandmother. We were in a very difficult situation.’
‘But you know how I feel about her. You know she’s been following me. You know Dominic’s been estranged from her for years.’
‘To be fair, love, we don’t really know anything about Dominic’s family. It’s very difficult making a judgement call when you don’t have any of the facts.’ Her dad’s voice was calm, placatory, but Livvy didn’t want to be placated.
‘You don’t need to know any details. You just have to respect the fact that I don’t want her near my son.’
‘But she seemed very nice, not at all what I was expecting—’
‘That’s because she’s a manipulator, Mum! She was manipulating you. Can’t you see that?’ Frustration bled into Livvy’s voice as she moved Leo from one hip to the other. ‘How on earth am I supposed to leave Leo with you this weekend when you let that woman in the house to play with him?’
‘Don’t be silly. He’ll be fine with us. Now that we know how strongly you feel about Imogen, of course we won’t let her in again. We were just caught off guard.’
‘Dad’s right. We don’t want you worrying about Leo on top of everything else. You know what good care we’ll take of him.’ Her mum smiled. ‘Why don’t you go back home and get on with your packing. We can bring Leo back later.’
Livvy shook her head. ‘It’s fine. I’ll take him with me now.’
‘But you’ve got so much to do—’
‘Honestly, it doesn’t make sense you dropping him back later when I’m already here.’ She couldn’t delete the image from her mind of Imogen sitting on her parents’ sofa with Leo on her lap.
‘Okay, whatever you think’s best. But we’ll be over at eight in the morning to collect him.’ Her dad sounded hesitant, as though Livvy might feasibly cancel the arrangement even though, this late in the day, she had no alternative.
Livvy left her parents’ house, aware of the lingering tension between them.
Driving home, she found herself repeatedly checking her rear-view mirror for the sight of a blue Ford Fiesta. Because after today’s encounter, she was aware of a sickening certainty that there was nothing Imogen wouldn’t do to get close to Leo.
ANNA
LONDON
‘Are you sure you don’t want something stronger?’
Zahira places a mug of peppermint tea on the kitchen table, and I shake my head, do not want anything to cloud my already foggy thoughts.
Since arriving at Zahira’s flat, I have told her everything: the cancelled therapy appointment, the letters, the paperback book with another woman’s name in it. The words have come tumbling out of my mouth as if they have a life of their own.
‘What are you going to do?’ Zahira stacks the letters into a pile, pushes them to the far edge of the table.
‘You definitely think he’s having an affair?’ I hear the flicker of hope in my voice, cringe that I’m even entertaining the possibility that he might not be.
Something flashes across Zahira’s face – sympathy, perhaps, or pity – and she reaches across the table, takes hold of my hand. ‘It’s hard to think of another explanation, isn’t it?’
There is a momentary squawk from the bedroom next door where Elyas is having a nap, and Zahira stills her head, listens, before turning back to me. ‘I’ve been exactly where you are now and I know how much it hurts. I’m sorry you’re having to go through it. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.’