Part of me wanted to tell him about the dreams. About him, about the younger woman and about the girl. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was fed up with talking about my dreams and I certainly wasn’t in any kind of mood for a major confrontation about whether he was seeing someone else or not. After all — they were just dreams — although, the woman had looked familiar. I wondered if it was someone he worked with, someone that I may have met briefly.
In truth, she was probably nothing to do with Neil. She had been alone at a table, writing. Neil wasn’t there at all. And she hadn’t looked surprised to see me. She had looked scared. It was different.
The brickwork where the words had been looked almost normal now.
BACK OFF CUNT.
Why would the attacker write that — and why the fox? What significance did that have? Neil had been going to say something else when I’d asked him if he really thought it was meant for the police. What was it? A confession?
It occurred to me that perhaps the message was meant for Neil. A jealous husband or boyfriend. Was that possible? I had been pretty much “missing” as a wife recently, either drinking, freaking out or crying. And now with copious amounts of soft paraffin rubbed under my nose and struggling to develop and maintain an additional personality. Maybe he’d started looking elsewhere.
If he had, I would kill him.
But Neil wouldn’t do that to me. He had always been my solid granite. We were concrete. He wouldn’t do that to me.
I felt goosebumps on my arms, and shivered. A gust of wind pushed against me.
Over the fence, in the next door garden, I heard the early morning birds screeching at each other. Although now daylight, the sky looked mean. Dark blue and black, heavy with moisture. Next door had left a sheet on their washing line and it flapped furiously in the wind. What on earth possessed them to leave washing out in weather like this? Neil went back indoors.
I noticed my breath, misting before my eyes and I felt my shoulders rise and fall with each breath. My chest expanding, filling with air. I became aware of me. I felt like I was seeing myself for the first time in ages. Looking down on myself. Seeing me for what I was.
I pulled a tissue from my dressing gown pocket and rubbed away the remainder of the Vicks. I raised my head up, stared hard at the brickwork then looked up at the sky. I shut my eyes and mentally shouted “Bring it on”.
If Neil was seeing someone else — that was his problem. I needed to sort myself out. If he was there to help, so much the better, if not — I could do it myself. I needed to be there for Michael and Rose and I wanted to be there for Neil.
Most importantly I wanted to be there for me.
I was back, I was in control and I was angry.
I told Anne to fuck off.
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Inheritance Page 17