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Back The Imposter Save as PDF
Chapters (55)
  1. Cover
  2. ANNA WHARTON
  3. Dedication page
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY-ONE
  25. TWENTY-TWO
  26. TWENTY-THREE
  27. TWENTY-FOUR
  28. TWENTY-FIVE
  29. TWENTY-SIX
  30. TWENTY-SEVEN
  31. TWENTY-EIGHT
  32. TWENTY-NINE
  33. THIRTY
  34. THIRTY-ONE
  35. THIRTY-TWO
  36. THIRTY-THREE
  37. THIRTY-FOUR
  38. THIRTY-FIVE
  39. THIRTY-SIX
  40. THIRTY-SEVEN
  41. THIRTY-EIGHT
  42. THIRTY-NINE
  43. FORTY
  44. FORTY-ONE
  45. FORTY-TWO
  46. FORTY-THREE
  47. FORTY-FOUR
  48. FORTY-FIVE
  49. FORTY-SIX
  50. FORTY-SEVEN
  51. FORTY-EIGHT
  52. FORTY-NINE
  53. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  54. Praise
  55. THE IMPOSTER

Chloe reaches the house, but it feels different now. Every one of her senses is alert to a new sound, a new smell. She arrives at the back door. Through the glass panel, she can see Maureen sitting at the table, head bowed, lost in a book. If only she could keep her that way, locked in innocence. Chloe doesn’t want to blow her world apart – has this woman not suffered enough? – but she needs to know. She deserves to know. Chloe pushes her hand down on the handle. She thought she’d come here to find out the truth – just not this truth.

‘What are you doing home at this time, Chloe, love?’ Maureen says, looking up, double-checking the clock as she does.

Chloe had forgotten for a moment that she was going to feign illness. If Patrick had been there, she would have needed an excuse for coming home early. For a split second she is unsure whether to reach for her head or her stomach. She goes for her head.

‘Oh lovey,’ Maureen says, getting up from her chair and rushing to her side. She puts her hand out to her forehead just as Chloe knew she would. She holds it there, and Chloe presses her head forward, as if Maureen’s palm could take away not just this fictional pain, but all of it. All of it always. Why is it that nothing can stay the same forever? Chloe feels like she might cry.

‘Well, you haven’t got a temperature, so that’s a good thing,’ Maureen says.

She guides her by her elbow to a chair at the table, pulling it out and encouraging Chloe into it. On the draining board, upside down, there are six pink plastic beakers, the kind you might find in a school or a nursery. Maureen sees her staring at them.

‘Let me get you a glass of water,’ she says. ‘These are new – for you.’

Maureen pours her water into one of the beakers and Chloe takes it in two hands. She takes a sip as Maureen sits down opposite her.

‘Patrick not here?’ Chloe asks.

‘Hmm? No,’ Maureen says, ‘though he shouldn’t be too long. Why? You’re not thinking you need running to the doctor’s, are you? I mean, I’m sure he would – of course he would – but you don’t feel that poorly, do you, love?’

Chloe shakes her head. ‘I’ll be fine, I just need some rest. There’s been something going round at work, it’s probably that.’

Maureen sighs. ‘Probably . . . I remember when you . . .’ She stops.

‘When I what?’ Chloe asks.