The Legacy of Eve, page 1
The Legacy of Eve
Natasha Boydell
Copyright © 2022 Natasha Boydell
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The right of Natasha Boydell to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in 2022 by Bloodhound Books.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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www.bloodhoundbooks.com
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Print ISBN 978-1-5040-7258-8
Contents
Also by Natasha Boydell
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
A note from the publisher
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Prologue
Eve’s salty tears ran down her face and mingled with her sweat. What had she done to deserve this? She was a prisoner, trapped in an unendurable agony inflicted upon her by her own body. Her mother used to say that the pain of labour was the curse of Eve; punishment for the sins of the first woman. Eve had never understood why, despite this belief, her mother had chosen to call her daughter by the same name, as though sealing her fate from the very beginning.
It does explain a lot, I suppose, she thought now, because I definitely would have eaten that apple.
She shifted position in a vain attempt to find relief. But nothing worked; there was no escape. Eventually she gave up and lay on her back, staring hopelessly up at the ceiling which, through the blur of her tears, looked like it was going to fall in on her. She hoped it would. Seconds later she was writhing around, desperate once again to ease the pain.
She had never experienced anything like it, hour upon hour of torture. In the beginning, it had ebbed and flowed but now it was persistent and brutal. How long had she been subjected to this nightmare for? She had lost track of time, her senses thrown off-kilter by the windowless, artificially lit room that she feared she may never escape from again.
She was afraid and she was angry. Angry at everyone she had ever known and at anyone who so much as looked at her. She was oddly contrite, too, because it had made her see her own mother in a different light. If I’d known that she went through this because of me, perhaps I would have been nicer to her, made more of an effort to be a good, kind daughter. But it’s too late to go back now.
‘Eve?’
She flinched as Mike’s warm hand touched her back. She didn’t want him anywhere near her. She couldn’t even look at him; she hated him with every bone in her traitorous body. It was his fault that she was here; he had made her go through this despite the grave doubts that she had expressed from the start. He had showered her with false promises that everything was going to be okay. He had lied; it was not okay. She didn’t know what she’d ever seen in him now. She should have trusted her instincts and run, but instead she had let herself be drawn in.
A fresh wave of pain hit her, this one even worse than before, and she let out a wail so visceral that for a second she thought there was a wounded animal in the room, until she realised it was coming from her own mouth. Somewhere in the distance she heard a woman’s voice, quietly at first and then louder. She ignored it. A hand appeared on her shoulder, gently but firmly pushing her down on to the bed and she pulled and scratched at it, desperate to get it off her.
‘Eve, love,’ Mike said, alarmed. ‘The midwife needs to examine you. You have to stay still.’
The contraction passed and she flopped on to the bed, defeated. He tried to mop her brow with a cold flannel, but she batted him away, like he was an annoying fly she wanted to swat.
She looked up to see a midwife at the end of the bed, smiling at her. ‘It’s time,’ she said.
Eve stared at the woman, confused. She was sure that she’d seen her before, but a lifetime ago. How could that be? Then she remembered it was the same midwife who had greeted her when she first got to the hospital. The woman had stayed awhile, busying herself while chatting about the many babies she had delivered, and then she had finished her shift and clocked off with a cheery wave. How long had she been gone? How was she back already? What had she been doing while Eve was stuck in this purgatory, trapped between her old life and her new one? Something normal and pleasant? Perhaps she’d gone home to a loving partner and they’d shared a bottle of wine and a home-cooked meal. Maybe she’d gone out with friends for dinner or to see a film. Or even just an early night, curled up in bed with a good book before drifting off into a peaceful sleep and waking up fresh-faced, ready to deliver some more children.
Eve was not fresh-faced, she was rancid. Sticky sweat had dried to her body and long strands of her dark hair were cemented to her forehead. She wanted to shave it off. She wanted to punch everyone. She wanted to kill the man who stood next to her. She wanted to die.
‘When I tell you to push, I need you to push down like we talked about, okay, Eve?’
Eve nodded, barely listening. She didn’t want to push. She hadn’t even wanted this baby. They had barely known each other when she got pregnant and by the time she realised that she’d made a mistake, it was too late. She looked at him now, her eyes burning. He smiled back at her, calmly observing her with the same deep-brown eyes that had lured her in months ago and fooled her into believing that her life was about to get better.
‘Okay, Eve, push now, come on, push!’
She closed her eyes and pushed half-heartedly.
‘Push, Eve.’
‘I am!’ she screamed. It was all she had left to give, so it was all the midwife was getting.
A minute later the midwife urged her again. ‘Push now, Eve, push.’
This time she barely even tried. She wanted to give up, to curl up into a ball and disappear.
‘Eve!’ The midwife sounded urgent now. ‘I really need you to push. Come on!’
‘Eve,’ Mike begged, from beside her. ‘Come on, Eve, you can do this.’
But she couldn’t do it and she didn’t want to do it.
Another wave of pain. Another round of people shouting at her. Screw them all. But then an urge came over her, which was so strong that she could no longer deny it. Even if her mind was conflicted, her body was not, and it had decided that it was time to get this baby out. She closed her eyes and pushed with everything she had. She pushed, and screamed, and pushed.
The pain stopped. The world came back into focus. She heard a cry and the midwife showed her the baby, holding it up to her like it was some sort of sacrificial offering.
‘A girl,’ she said.
Eve’s arms stretched out towards the baby, suddenly desperate for her. The tears on her cheeks were no longer of agony but of joy. How quickly things could change, the pain and fear of the last twenty-four hours already forgotten, amnesia kicking in straightaway. She almost laughed with the euphoria of it all. This was heaven, not hell; she no longer hated everyone, she loved them. The midwife bundled the baby off to examine her and Eve watched carefully, concerned, seeking reassurance that everything was okay. Mike placed his hand in hers and squeezed it gently and this time she didn’t flinch from his touch. She squeezed him back.
And then she was there, her very own daughter, placed gently into her arms. Eve looked down at her baby’s beautiful little red, scrunched-up face and couldn’t believe how much she loved her already. She held out a finger and the baby grabbed it, gripping on to it tightly.
‘Hello Annie,’ she said, ‘I’m your mum.’
Annie gazed back at her with eyes that already seemed too wise for her tender age. Minutes passed but it felt like seconds. All Eve wanted was to hold her daughter for the rest of her life.
‘Can I hold her?’ Mike asked.
She did not want to let Annie go. But she was starting to feel fuzzy, the effects of a long and laborious birth catching up with her. Her vision was becoming blurry again, and she was tired, dog-tired. Her arms were starting to sag, too, and she nodded at Mike, giving permission for him to reach down and take Annie from her. She watched them for a while, enjoying the tender moment between father and daughter, and when Mike turned and beamed at her she tried to smile back but she no longer had the energy to move her mouth.
She was dizzy. I’m just exhausted from the ordeal, she thought. But at least I finally understand now why women go through this. It’s the best feeling in the worl
The midwife was calling for someone. Another person appeared, and then another. A doctor was looking at her and his lips were moving but she couldn’t understand what he was saying; his words were jumbled up. The midwife was frowning. It didn’t make any sense, what were they looking so worried about? Annie was fine, she was perfect. Even as the room started spinning, Eve could see her, lying peacefully in her father’s arms. Then she realised that it wasn’t the baby they were worried about, it was her.
‘What’s wrong?’ she tried to ask but the words wouldn’t come out.
Someone was shouting. ‘Eve, stay with us! Eve!’
But the urge to sleep was becoming irresistible, it was pulling her down, tempting her. Just a little nap, then I’ll feel so much better. Annie and I have our whole lives to spend together.
‘Eve, can you hear me?’
Just a little rest and I’ll be raring to go. And Mike and I will talk, properly talk.
She was fading now. It was time. But she wasn’t afraid, she was happy, happier than she had ever been in her life. She looked at Annie one last time.
Then she drifted away.
Chapter One
Present Day
Annie yanked the unyielding front door shut, pretending that she hadn’t seen the peeling flakes of wood and paint that scattered to the floor like dandruff, and turned to the couple beside her.
‘What do you think?’ she asked, with a little too much enthusiasm.
‘It’s in quite a state,’ the man replied, wrinkling his nose in distaste. His wife was already shuffling down the garden path, as though she couldn’t get away from the property fast enough. Once she had reached the safe sanctuary of the public pavement, Annie saw her reach into her handbag for some antibacterial gel and apply it liberally to her hands.
Given that the house had been marketed as ‘in need of modernisation’ this should not have come as a surprise to the potential buyers, but Annie had been in the property business long enough to know that the customer was always right, even when they weren’t. She nodded effusively, trying to look suitably impressed by the man’s most profound and astute observation.
‘Mmm, yes, you’re quite right,’ she said. ‘But I’m sure you’ll agree that it’s priced accordingly and it’s extremely rare for houses to come up for sale on this street. It’s a very popular area with families because of its proximity to good local schools.’ She looked pointedly at the baby bump protruding out from under the woman’s maternity dress.
But even as she said it, she knew she was wasting her time. They weren’t going to buy this house, just like they weren’t going to buy the three others she’d shown them. Time-wasters was what her boss Lil called these types of customers; people who refused to deviate from the unrealistic picture they’d painted of the home they felt entitled to own. But Annie liked to think of them as optimistic in their belief that they would find the property they wanted at the price they could afford, if only they played the game strategically, like it was Monopoly rather than real life. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for them when the realisation dawned that they couldn’t even afford a battered old garage on Old Kent Road these days, let alone a hotel on Mayfair. After that, they went one of four ways: accept their fate and compromise, stay put, move out of London, or ring the bank of Mum and Dad. Looking at this couple, she guessed it would be option four.
She glanced at her watch. Her boyfriend Gabe was picking her up in half an hour and she needed to get a move on if she wanted to be ready in time. She still had to walk back to the office and do some admin before she could finish for the day. There was no point in trying the hard sell on this couple, who looked like they were starting to suffer from a lack of oxygen from having been outside the boundary of London’s North Circular Road for too long. They were clearly itching to get back to the safety of the inner circle, where they could still call themselves trendy city dwellers rather than predictable suburbanites.
‘Well, do call me if you’d like a second viewing,’ she said, shaking them both firmly by the hand and waving as they climbed into their eggshell-coloured convertible Mini Cooper and sped off without so much as a backwards glance. She imagined them returning home to their pristine, split-level flat and scrolling through properties for sale on their phones, desperately searching for the one they’d missed, the one that ticked all their boxes. The one that didn’t exist.
With a final, wistful glance at the house, which she would give her right arm – and her left if push came to shove – to be able to buy, Annie turned and began to head back towards the high street, just a few minutes’ walk away. She passed a young woman who she’d sold a flat to the previous year and they exchanged brief pleasantries, and then she strolled past her favourite café and waved at the owner inside. She smiled. The suburb of Palmers Green may not make the top ten trendy areas list, but it was a vibrant, friendly community and there was nowhere else that she’d rather live.
Today, the pavements were filled with families heading to or from the park near the station. The funfair was in town and even over the noise of the traffic Annie could hear the distinct bass boom of dance music in the distance. She passed a little girl in a buggy, being pushed by her mother. The girl was clutching on to a candyfloss stick, her mouth sticky with pink sugar, and she stared at Annie, glassy-eyed. Annie gave her a wink and continued walking. It was the perfect day for a trip to the fair, a glorious late spring afternoon after weeks of relentless rain. The trees were blossoming, and the flowers were starting to bloom in front gardens, signalling new beginnings. This year it felt even more symbolic.
As the sun warmed her bare arms, Annie sighed with the satisfaction of having finished viewings for the day. Although she loved her job and was accustomed to working on Saturdays, she still got excited when she could join everyone else in official weekend mode. She tried to shake off the disappointment that always niggled at her after an unsuccessful day. It happened sometimes, no matter how hard you tried, and anyway, there was plenty to be happy about. The thought made her pick up the pace and she turned on to the high street, where the calming tranquillity of the residential streets was instantly replaced by the hustle and bustle of life. All around her people wandered in and out of shops or sat at tables on the pavement, sipping coffee. The Greek and Turkish restaurants had flung their doors open and the smell of food cooking on charcoal wafted out, making Annie’s mouth water.
She reached the office, pausing as she always did, to look at the display of properties outside. She knew them so well that she had made a game out of it; and whenever she was struggling to sleep at night, she would go through each property in order, listing the address and price in her mind, always nodding off before she reached the end.
The little brass bell hanging above the door tinkled as she let herself into Lillian Gold Estate Agents. Lillian, known to everyone as Lil, glanced up from her desk and peered at Annie from over her reading glasses. Her hair was piled up on top of her head in an untidy knot, which looked extremely glamorous on Lil. When Annie had tried to replicate it once, she’d looked as though she had a bird’s nest sitting on her head. Gabe had asked her if she was storing eggs for some magpies, and she hadn’t attempted it since.
‘How did it go?’ Lil asked.
