Under His Influence

“Maybe some kind of rub for muscular aches and pains. I’m pretty sure you’ll be needing something like that in the morning.”

“Oh, stop it. I hate you.”

“I love your passion, Miranda.”

“Fuck you.”

A figure appeared beside Mimi, browsing the ranks of prophylactics and sex aids with her.

“Friend of yours?” he asked with deceptive lightness.

Mimi whipped the phone back into her handbag and scowled at Liam.

“Are you fucking stalking me? Go away.”

“Well, this makes everything a hundred per cent clearer.” He moped, picking up the box of condoms from her basket and inspecting it. “Extra large, eh? You lucky thing.”

“Liam…” Mimi felt his disappointment and regret hit her in the stomach.

“Have fun,” he said with a bitter laugh, turning to go, then he stopped for a moment and faced her again, suddenly curious. “Who was that on the phone anyway?”

“It was Stone. I was trying to tell him…that he was wrong about you… Oh, fuck it. Never mind. Bye. Hope you meet someone nicer than me sometime.”

She stalked off to the checkout with tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

Anna wasn’t dreaming, exactly, but neither was she enjoying that oblivious sleep from which refreshment comes. Snippets of thoughts and fears chased each other through the dark corners of her mind, accompanied by visions—a baby’s terrified eyes, the wide, grinning corners of John’s mouth, Mimi’s hand on hers, Liam calling out some indistinct words of warning.

It was a relief when the clangour of the old-fashioned doorbell dragged her out of this seminightmarish state, and she pulled herself off the bed, patted down her silk loungewear, pulled a comb through her hair and went to investigate.

Must be a delivery, she thought, and once she reached the top of the stairs she saw Luana dealing with the caller, seemingly uninterested in whatever they had to offer.

“Jehovah’s Witness?” She yawned sympathetically, descending the top couple of stairs. Then she stopped and squinted. She recognised the smartly-dressed woman on the doorstep from somewhere.

“Oh, you are in,” the woman said, shoving a determined path past Luana, who looked up at Anna with something like fury on her thin face. “I knew I was being fobbed off.”

“You call,” insisted Luana in angry broken English. “You call first. You not come here.”

“Oh, bother that.” The woman dismissed her, looking about her at the spacious hallway. “I was passing. Why wouldn’t I call in on my new sister-in-law? I don’t think I need her housekeeper’s permission. Or do I, Anna?”

“Oh!” Anna bit her lip, ashamed at her failure to recognise the woman to whom she was now related. “Caroline. I’m so sorry.”

She ran down the stairs, forgetting to be careful of the fragile life inside her in her momentary joy at some uncomplicated human company.

“You know, this is awful, but I didn’t recognise you. You know how it was at the wedding. So many people. And everything happening at once.”

“Indeed.” Caroline smiled, a grimly sympathetic gesture. “Well, it’s hot out there. I always used to enjoy a cup of tea in John’s back parlour—it catches all the shade on days like these.”

“Of course. Luana—could you bring us tea, please? And biscuits.”

Anna and Caro made their way to the back of the house, where a tiled room filled with Spanish-style furniture looked out on to the verdant, sun-blocking foliage of the garden.

“Well, I would ask you how you are,” opened Caro with heavy implication, “but it seems pretty obvious that you aren’t at all well.”

“What? Oh no, I’m fine,” Anna said, agitated by the woman’s direct approach. Something about her was reminiscent of Mimi, that big sister take-no-bullshit concern in her tone.

“Fine? Sweetheart, those shadows under your eyes. Don’t you sleep well?”

“John says it’s all I do. I sleep all the time. Honestly.”