Page 86 of The New House

‘Well, I think we both know Felix wasn’t behind the wheel,’ Tom says.

I let the comment lie where it falls.

‘Harper didn’t see who was behind the wheel of the car that hit her,’ I say, reaching for a heavy glass pot of hand cream on my bedside table and smoothing it onto my hands with brisk, efficient strokes: the constant scrubbing with abrasive anti-bacterials leaves them chapped and raw. ‘I just wish she’d said as much on her vlog. She made it sound like she could identify whoever crashed into her, which if itwasdeliberate gives them a bloody good reason to try again. And she knows it, too: she says she did it on purpose to flush them out.’

‘That’s not the stupidest idea I ever heard,’ Tom says.

‘Really?’ I say. ‘You might want to remember that if someone attacks the house with a bazooka while she’s here.’

‘You didn’t have to invite her to stay with us,’ Tom says.

‘She’s mypatient,’ I say tersely. ‘She’s only ten days out from major open heart surgery. If I’d let her go home to that miserable little flat her kids would’ve run her ragged and she’d have been back on my table by the weekend.’

Tom turns towards me, propping himself up on one elbow. ‘Millie,’ he says, ‘I appreciate what you’ve done for Harper. I know she’s not your favourite person in the world. But it’s not your fault the Conways are stuck in a shitty rental flat.’

‘Generous of you, but not entirely accurate,’ I say.

‘Still,’ he says. ‘You went out of your way. And you didn’t have to.’

‘I told you—’

‘She’s just a patient. Yes, I know.’ He rolls away from me. ‘I don’t know why you find it so hard to let anyone think you care, Millie,’ he says. ‘Iknowyou. I know you a lot better than you think. And before you start reminding me what a sociopath you are, letmeremindyou: good people sometimes do bad things for the right reasons. That doesn’t make them bad people. Why are you always so set on convincing everyone you don’t give a damn?’

‘Why are you always so set on convincing meIdo?’

He sighs. ‘Millie, I get it, I really do. If you don’t let anyone in, you don’t get hurt. But Harper doesn’t expect anything from you. She just wants to be your friend.’

‘So did Stacey,’ I say.

I screw the lid back onto my expensive hand cream and put it back on my bedside table, and then turn out the light.

For a long while neither of us speaks, and I think Tom has fallen asleep.

‘What are you going to do?’ he asks suddenly into the darkness.

He doesn’t need to elaborate. I told him what happened three days ago when I went to see Stacey at the INN studio.

He was right, and I was wrong.

Staceyplayedme.

I knew it the moment the police first came to my door, though Stacey had to spell out her message with brutal clarity for me to accept it.

Deep down, I think I always knew it. I was never meant to have friends. I belong in the shadows, in dark places where it’s safer to venture alone. But I let my vanity get the better of me: Stacey made me feel I was the only one who could save her. The very first time we met she read me for clues like a fairground psychic. As soon as she saw my response to the bruises on her arms, she knew exactly which buttons she had to press. I thoughtIwas the one in control: congratulating myself when I persuaded her to come to the hospital gala, preening when she copied my clothes and hair.

And the truth is she was pulling my strings from the very beginning.

Tom was right when he said she didn’t really want to sell the house: I remember her face when she showed us around, stroking her countertops, tweaking her blinds. I thought I was so clever wooing her into finally agreeing to part with it.

But she never had any intention of selling it to me. She simply used the Glass House asbait.

Tom saw the danger long before I did. He saw it, and he tried to tell me, and I wouldn’t listen. I was convinced Stacey and I had a connection that went beyond the Glass House, beyond our shared experience of domestic violence.

Part of me actually admires Stacey for what she’s done. I showed weakness, and she took advantage of it: that’s on me, not her. She achieved something I’d never have believed possible: she made me realise howlonelyI was. For years, Tom was enough for me, but Stacey showed me a glimpse of the mysterious and intimate world of female friendship from which I’d excluded myself for so long, and I finally understood what I’d been missing. I dared to dream I might be allowed to be part of it, to have what everyone else took for granted.

And then she showed me what a fool I was.

Stacey has reminded me who I really am. My pride is dented, but I’ll regroup. It’s time I stopped trying to abide by everyone else’s rules. I didn’t choose this path, but I absolutely will not be destroyed by it.

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