She opened the door and stepped out onto the empty landing, then walked to her room without looking back.

Chapter 20

20

Nell’s headache was worse than any hangover. She rolled onto her side, squinting against the morning light that edged in around the drawn curtains, and raised a hand to the back of her head. There was a good-sized lump there and a few rusty smears on the pillow case. Then she remembered the rest of it, the frantic scramble to the bathroom and all that followed, as the suffocating sense of loss rolled through her, settling over her heart; what would she tell Chris?

She sat up carefully, the muscles in her back and left shoulder were stiff and sore. Gathering her courage, she stood, swaying a little as a sharp pain cut through her hip and down her left leg. She walked unsteadily to the door, fighting the urge to cry, to get back into bed, pull the covers over her head and give in. A shower would help, and something for the pain too, then she’d set about the day.

The room seemed to blur, to tilt to one side, before righting itself.

Maude. She should check on Maude.

One thing at a time, she decided.

*

The shower over the bath wasn’t the strongest in the world, but it washed away the dried blood from her scalp and hair; the hot water easing her muscles and the cramps in her back. There was a graze running along her leg and the beginnings of some spectacular bruising around her ribs.

She’d been lucky really. No broken limbs.

‘Shit.’ The tears welled up again, and she made sure to be careful when clambering out of the shower, clinging onto the edge of the bath, moving slowly, with exaggerated care.

She began to comb out her damp hair, trying to avoid the lump on her head. Her reflection in the mirror was grey-ish, pale and tired, and she wondered if she shouldn’t attempt some make-up.

Then she noticed the pins.

They were jammed into the wood at the bottom of the sash window, seven of them, with a couple more laying loose on the ledge, as if someone had dislodged them. The pins were new, the marks in the paint fresh, and there was a heap of white grains in the corner of the window, in both corners. After a moment, she licked her finger and dipped it in the coarse powder, bringing it up to her mouth to taste.

Salt.

The nausea that gripped her was sudden and vicious. Nell threw up into the toilet, vomiting until she felt hollow, her legs shaking, her throat sore.

*

‘Maude? Maude, are you awake?’

She didn’t think she’d heard her at first, then the shape in the bed stretched and a single hand pushed away the light summer duvet.

Maude sat up.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘OK. Tired.’

‘Hungry?’

‘Yeah. A bit.’