I set off quite early the next morning to visit the hospital where Emma's mother was currently residing. As Simon informed me last-minute that he had organised to take Bella to the vets for the duration of the morning, I called his mother to do some babysitting. As usual, she was more than willing to come over.
"Ganny's coming round to look after you today," I told the kids as I zipped up my coat jacket, ready to step out into the chilly January air. "I'm going to... meet an old friend for lunch."
"When will Granny be here?" Emma enquired.
"In a minute or so." She'd be heading down the street right now. I'd wait in my car until I saw her appear, just in case she was later than expected.
"Okay. I'll see you soon, mummy!" Emma skipped away into the living room. On her skinny arm, a bandage was wrapped multiple times to cover her wound. I'd dressed it last night before delivering a stern warning to never do such a thing again.
Of course, I'd had to inform Anna of the latest event, commanding her to keep an eye on Emma at all times, not letting her out of sight at any moment. I'd also closed the kitchen door and instructed the children to keep out of it at all times. And, as a final precaution, the knives had been placed in a storage box and hidden away at the back of a cupboard, out of sight of anyone and, most of all, Emma.
There was a knock at the door, so I knelt down to kiss Luke goodbye. His eyes were fearful and mistrusting. Scared, even.
"I love you, sweetie," I told him. There was no reply, so I kissed his cheek and stood up to let Anna inside.
"Mummy!" His arm reached out to grab mine as I tried to walk away. I swivelled back round to face him.
"Don't leave me. Please," he said. His voice cracked on the final word.
I didn't understand. I didn't try to understand.
I just left him.
I carefully removed his little, childish fingers from my arm and I left him.
The car journey to the hospital passed by fairly quickly. I knew the way well, as I'd looked up the route on Google Maps the previous night, so it wasn't difficult. I just drove, and tried hard not to think about Luke.
I also knew exactly which ward to go to, as Ellen had remembered where her sister was kept, although, as she put it, she had "no idea why, as I'm never gonna visit the loony meself."
The hospital was a large, modern building, probably recently constructed. It didn't exactly scream "hospital" at me. More like arts or community centre. Still, the task looming ahead of me was certainly making me nervous. I'd not actually thought about what I was going to say up to this point. I was really unsure.
"I'm here to see Andrea Gillard," I announced at the reception desk. The young woman behind it nodded once before typing something into her computer.
"Andrea Gillard, you say?"
"Yep."
She looked confused, maybe a tad worried, but then replied with "I'll call a member of staff down to take you up." She began entering numbers into the phone by her side. "You're a next of kin, right?"
"Uh huh," I tried to look sincere. "I'm her sister."
I was made to wait in reception for at least five minutes before a Doctor arrived. During this time, I puzzled over what to say. I prayed that Andrea wouldn't lash out at me, or send me away when she noticed I was clearly not her sister. Or even anyone she knew, for that matter. And that was even before I touched on the subject of Emma. From what I'd heard, Andrea wasn't exactly the biggest fan of her daughter. To put it lightly. So you wouldn't be surprised to know that I wasn't looking forward to our encounter.
"Hello there! You must be Andrea's relative!" A young man, probably in his mid-twenties, entered the room, extending an outstretched hand for me to shake. I took it willingly. "Good to meet you. I'm Mike. Well, Doctor Mike to you."
I followed him through the door he had passed through and up a flight of stairs. "How is she?" I asked, anxiously awaiting his reply.
"Good," he informed me. "Andy's been doing really well. She's nearly ready to be discharged, so I think it's about time she had a visitor."
"Does she get many?" I questioned.
"Nope." He slowed down for a second, allowing me to catch up with his fast pace. "She's had none at all. You're the first."
"Really?" How awful I thought for a moment, before remembering she was the woman who got Emma put into care in the first place and had probably ruined her early childhood.
"Here we are." He stopped walking and reached out to hold a door open for me. We entered a solitary room, unlike the open ward I'd been expecting, with screaming men and women on every side. "Andy! You've got a visitor."
The woman sitting in the room turned to face us. She looked relatively normal – dishwater coloured hair, pale complexion, slightly ragged clothes. She had eyes the same shape and colour as Emma's, but, aside from that, bared no resemblance to her daughter.
"I don't know her." She cast her gaze on me. Her voice was surprisingly high pitched and feeble. Slightly squeaky.
I looked nervously at Mike, waiting for him to catch me out as the fraud I was, but he only said "I'll catch you later, guys. Buzz me if you need anything." He gestured towards a button on the wall. I hoped I wouldn't be using it.
Then he left. Left me alone with Emma's mother.
"You think I'm mad, like the rest of them, don't you?" she growled at me, her eyes staring straight through me, as if looking into my mind.
I fiddled nervously with my coat zip, unsure how to reply to this. What was I supposed to say? The last thing I wanted was to say something upsetting and for her to have some kind of outburst and send me away, because she was my only remaining source for answers. No matter how mentally stable she was.
"I do wonder why you're here," I eventually muttered, cautiously.
She didn't reply for a while, so I began to worry I'd said the wrong thing, but she eventually whispered "they're wrong, you know," leaning out of her chair towards me.
I nodded back, dumbfounded again.
"I know you won't believe me," she continued, "whoever you are," - here she cast a slightly angered glare in my direction - "but there is nothing wrong with me."
Sure, sure. Coming from the long-term child neglecter.
"I suppose you might as well have a seat," she then said, her tone surprisingly bright and cheerful. I took the chair opposite her. We were so close we could have easily touched foreheads, so I shuffled my chair back slightly.
"I don't bite." I could hear a slight hint of anger in her voice, so I stopped moving. "So why are you here? Nobody ever visits me here." I was sure I caught a glimpse of something in her eyes. Excitement?
"I'm afraid I'm not here to visit you," I explained carefully. I didn't want to keep up some kind of pretense that I was here to help her.
"So?" Andrea sounded a little frustrated again, so I interrupted her quickly with the true answer.
"I need to talk to you about Emma."
She jolted her body out of her chair in an instant, giving the impression that she had been electrocuted, and backed towards the door, as far away from me as she could get. Shaking her head from side to side, as if having some kind of fit, I could see her eyes were fearful – the excitement earlier shown in them had gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by intense distrust. I could also sense that she was angry, too, from the way her fists were suddenly clenched tightly, a sharp contrast from their original relaxed position resting on her lap.
"I'm not talking about her," she spat, her tone laced with fury.
"I'm sorry," I apologised, beginning making my way across the room towards her. "Please sit down, Andy."
"Don't you call me that!" she cried, jabbing a finger at me. I shrank back into my seat immediately. "You don't know a thing about me. Not a thing."
"I know you are her mother," I ventured, waiting warily for her to explode again as soon as the words had left my lips. Bad move I scolded myself. Was I completely incompetent? My eyes scanned the room for the emergency button, just in case.
"Was," she corrected, calming slightly. "I'm not anymore. She's been adopted, they told me. Some idiot took her in. Gold help them."
"Why?" I swallowed nervously. I wanted some answers quickly, then I would be able to get the heck out of this place.
"Why?!" she laughed manically, almost cackling. "And they think I'm the crazy one!"
"Tell me then!" I shot back.
"Alright, alright." She reclaimed her seat. "You asked for it."
"I did," I confirmed.
"But, first, you have to tell me who you are."
I knew this would come.
Should I go for the truth or try keep up the pretense?
"I'm Laura Rayne," I eventually told her.
"That doesn't mean anything. You're here because..."
"I need answers about Emma."
"Very clever, Laura." She inhaled deeply, clearly exasperated by my lack of cooperation. "Tell. Me. Why. You're. Here."
I couldn't really avoid the question for any longer without really annoying her, but how was I supposed to break the news to her?
Think Laura, think.
"Because I was the idiot who adopted her."
There was no reply for a good minute.
Andrea stared at me with wide eyes, then opened her mouth to speak, before shaking her head again. "Please tell me you're not serious."
"I am."
"My daughter? You adopted her?"
"I did."
"You idiot." She glared venomously at me, not even trying to mask her hatred. "You absolute idiot."
"Are you going to tell me why I'm an idiot then?" She was really frustrating me. I was fed up of waiting for answers, so the sarcastic tone escaped. "Or can you just tell me some facts. About Emma. Because that is what I came here for."
"You asked for it." She shuffled in her chair, leaning in towards me. "Did you know, Laura, that I was supposed to have twins?"
I shook my head. "I never knew."
"One girl, one boy. I had everything planned out for them. Then they were born and only one survived. I'm sure you can guess which."
I nodded. "So Emma had a twin?"
"Yes. But my poor little boy was pronounced dead at birth. Can you guess why?"
"No."
"She starved him, whilst they were in the womb. She took all the food, all the life, and killed him. She hadn't even been born yet and she was already a bloody little murderer." She spat the last few words.
Was that all? She hated Emma because she had been the stronger baby? "But she wasn't even born," I protested.
"She took my son!" she shouted, her arms flailing about madly in the air. Then, she broke down into tears. "My beautiful, perfect, innocent son."
"At least one of your children survived," I tried to assure her, reaching out my hand to place it on her shoulder, in a way I hoped would be comforting.
"I'd rather they were both dead!" she viciously shoved my arm away, sending a jolt of pain up my shoulder. I rubbed it with my other hand, internally cursing.
"But why?" I demanded, not caring any more about upsetting her. She could go and cry herself sick in a corner for all I cared. "You can't hate her for doing-"
"Don't tell me what to do!" she screamed again. "You, of all people, Miss stupid Laura Rayne."
"Mrs," I corrected. Another stupid move.
"Don't you get clever with me," she hissed. Then, all of a sudden, she stopped speaking altogether. "You're married?" she whispered, almost cautiously.
"Yes." God help me, she was so infuriating.
"Don't tell me you have kids."
"I do."
"How many?"
"One. Just one. Luke." The thought of him brought a lump to my throat. "Wait, how is this relevant?"
"No. No. No." She was shaking her head again, this time even more frantically. Then she reached her hands down to the hem of her t-shirt and began to pull it upwards. I thought I was going to have to hit the help button, but she stopped at waist level.
A massive scar stretched across the length of her stomach.
It was a mixture of fleshy, pink tissue, still unhealed and infected, and white scarring, running in long vein-like patterns across her skin. The sight of it made me want to stare at it and cover it up both at the same time. Obviously, it had not been caused by some normal occurrence such as a car accident or fall. Somebody had put a lot of effort into ensuring that mark would forever remain on Andrea Gillard's body.
I gawped at it.
"What happened?"
She dropped her t-shirt, then surprised me by taking my hands in hers. This woman was so unpredictable. They were cold and bony, sending a chill through my arms, as if she was draining my body heat.
"Laura, where is your son?"
"At home."
"With who?"
"His Granny. And Emma."
"And the granny – what is she like? Does she like to sleep? Take naps a lot?"
"Well... yes." I was so confused. "But why are you-"
"Laura." Her voice was suddenly panicked. "You need to listen to every word I say now. You need to do exactly as I ask. Okay?"
"Yes."
"Laura, you need to take yourself back home, right now. You need to get to your son. Now." I could see tears brimming in her eyes. "I am so so sorry."
And then I understood everything.
"laura, go home now!" she was beginning to shout, her voice quivering as my hands were doing between hers. "Because you should know that Emma like to kill things."
