by Gemma Rogers
‘This is ridiculous.’ I grabbed the phone and dialled his number. It rang and rang, eventually going to voicemail. Had I been dumped? Irritation niggled at me even though I was the one that said I needed space. The poor guy couldn’t win.
I tried again and this time a woman answered. My heart sank and I considered hanging up.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi, can I speak to James please?’ I said after a pause.
‘He’s sleeping right now. Can I ask who this is?’
I could hear a familiar beeping in the background, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. The woman sounded more like his mother than the lover I’d been picturing laying naked next to him in bed.
‘It’s Sophie, his, ummm, friend,’ I stuttered.
‘I’ll let him know you called. Shall I tell him you’ll be visiting tomorrow?’ Her whisper was kind, but her words left me with a sense of foreboding.
‘Visiting where?’
‘Oh, my goodness, I’m sorry, dear, I assumed you knew. James is in East Surrey Hospital, on Ockley Ward.’
My stomach plummeted to the floor like a broken elevator. ‘What happened? Is he okay?’
‘Yes, he’s out of the woods. He had a nasty wound to his side, but we’ve patched him up.’
The nurse told me the visiting hours began at two o’clock tomorrow and I asked her to let him know I would be coming.
I slumped back onto the sofa, questions flying around my head. When did it happen? Is that why he hadn’t been in touch? Had someone tried to hurt him? Was he going to be okay? I felt sick at the thought of anything happening to James. Regardless of my trust issues, I still cared. If he was attacked it had to be related, it was too much of a coincidence not to be. Plus, it was virtual proof that him being attacked meant he wasn’t behind any of it.
Visiting hours could not come round quick enough. I popped to my parents on the way, and Mum made me a quick sandwich. I’d already told them I wouldn’t be staying for dinner this week. They were fine and happy to see I was on the mend, now walking without my crutches. Mum showed me a cottage she’d just booked for Christmas in Ashurst Forest. It looked picturesque and I was happy to witness her excitement about the trip away with friends, although I was sure they would be quite sombre festivities with Sue and Jim. I couldn’t even think about Christmas yet, Halloween was only next week, but I knew how much Mum got out of the planning of these adventures.
When I reached East Surrey, I used the opportunity to hand the crutches back to reception before asking for directions to Ockley ward. It was on the fourth floor and I made my way up the stairs instead of using the lifts. I hated being trapped in there when a patient’s bed was wheeled in. It all seemed so undignified, amongst strangers, wearing bedclothes. At their most vulnerable, although it couldn’t be helped. How else were they supposed to move about the building?
As I reached the ward, I steeled myself for what I was about to see, my palms sweating. Would James be covered in bruises, tubes sticking out of him and monitors bleeping?
When I got to his bedside, he was sitting, propped up on pillows, sipping some water from a plastic cup and reading the paper. His face pale but bruise-free. I let out a loaded sigh and pulled across a chair. Pleased to see his lips curve upwards as soon as he saw me.
‘What happened?’ I asked, reaching over to take his hand in mine.
James lowered the sheet and raised his gown to reveal a large white bandage across his left side. ‘I was jumped, stabbed.’
‘You were stabbed?’ I repeated and James’s eyes shot around the ward.
‘Sssshhhh.’
A few seconds passed, but the silence was broken by a loud snore coming from the next bed. I got up and pulled the curtain right around us before resuming my seat.
‘I didn’t see who it was, someone in black, wearing a motorcycle helmet. Didn’t feel it at first, thought I’d been punched. They were long gone by the time I saw the blood and collapsed.’ He sniffed.
‘Jesus, are you okay? Is it serious?’
‘Not life-threatening, not now anyway.’
‘Where were you? Did they take anything?’
‘No, nothing at all. I’d just left the flat, popping to the shop to get some cigarettes.’
‘When did it happen?’
‘Sunday afternoon?’
‘James you’ve been in here a week! Why didn’t you ring me?’ I leant forward, squeezing his hand a little too hard.
‘You did say you wanted some space,’ he said, lips curled into a half-smile as he looked at me through his lashes.
I sighed and shook my head.
‘What did the doctor say?’
‘There were some complications, the knife went between the ribs, thankfully missing all the vital organs, but it did cause some internal bleeding. I was pretty groggy for a few days. I’m hoping I can go home today or tomorrow. Once my dressing has been changed.’
I sat back in the chair, staring at James’s white face and the dark circles underneath his eyes. What next? I grabbed the chart at the end of the bed, but it was all numbers, BP, pulse, fluid, it meant nothing to me.
‘Did you see the knife?’ I wrung my hands together, this was all getting real, much too real.
‘No, it all happened so quickly, but it was small apparently, the doctor said, from the shape of the wound.’
‘Have you told the police?’
‘Yeah, they were called, but there wasn’t much to tell.’ I glared at him. ‘But yes, I’ve filed a report, they’ve been in to see me. They are going to look at surrounding CCTV.’
I already knew nothing would come of it. Whoever it was, they were too clever for that. I had to warn Becca, Mark and Robyn. She or he was out to hurt us now. It wasn’t a game any more. No more cards or balloons, that was the warmup.
James passed me his phone, the line in his hand poking out, ready for medication to be administered. It made my throat constrict. I didn’t like veins, or needles. Thankfully the bandaging hid most of it, but James hadn’t failed to notice my fingers trembling.
‘Look at the text messages.’
I opened the message icon, there was one from me, someone called Rob and a number with no contact attached. The same number that I’d given the police.
‘Top one,’ he instructed.
I swiped at the screen:
TWO DOWN, FIVE TO GO
I dropped the phone onto James’s bed as though it burnt my skin. Tears spilled onto my cheeks as the stress of the last couple of months leaked out like a broken tap.
‘Hey, hey. It’s okay,’ James said, leaning over to comfort me.
‘It’s not okay. It must be Hayley, she’s alive and she’s trying to kill us. She almost killed you and it’s practically an admission that she killed Gareth,’ I gestured at the text, still open on the display. ‘We have to do something.’ I wiped my eyes on my scarf, feeling like my head was going to cave in from the weight of it.
‘We’ll talk to the police. If it’s Hayley, we’ll find her,’ James said, his voice soothing.
‘I just want to know why James. What did we do?’
‘Maybe it’s what we didn’t do.’
36
October 2018
James was due to be discharged on Monday afternoon and I was going to the hospital to pick him up. I would leave Frank to run the agency, which I seemed to be doing more of lately. When I came down in the morning, I found him checking all of the locks and testing the alarm before we opened. He brushed it off, but I could tell from his hard stare and how deeply furrowed his eyebrows were that he was worried.
I shut myself away in my office and left a message for Detective Wren to tell him about James’s attack. Then I phoned Becca and Robyn in turn to tell them the latest. They were both horrified to hear of James’s stabbing, how this had escalated further into a physical attack. I could hear the trepidation in Becca’s voice, she feared for the safety of her children. She was right. Any of us could be next.
/> ‘Do you think we should pack up and leave?’
‘I’d consider it. If I didn’t have Whites to run, I probably would. Leave it to the police. Detective Wren is going to get in touch with you to ask about the car fire. He’s connecting the reports.’
‘Are we seriously still thinking that this is Hayley? It’s crazy!’
‘I don’t know,’ I replied.
Before I ended the call, Becca’s voice broke, her fear almost palpable down the line. ‘I don’t understand why this is happening.’ Neither did I.
Robyn took the news more calmly, but I heard Chloe in the background, so maybe she was playing it down in front of her girlfriend.
Frank knocked on the door once I was off the phone to let me know Hope had called in sick.
‘She can’t have a three-day hangover surely?’ I rolled my eyes, happy to change the subject from my drama. I knew it was playing on his mind and I wished I could turn back time to when he didn’t know anything about Hayley. It was only because he was there when I explained it to the policewoman, otherwise I wouldn’t have told him. Since then I always felt his eyes on me and Frank hovering all the time made me nervous. I knew he was only concerned for my safety and it was for my own good, but it substantiated my fear that I was in danger. I couldn’t bury it under the carpet and pretend it was nothing if Frank was worrying on my behalf too. It was like a constant reminder Hayley, or someone, was out there, wreaking havoc, inching ever closer.
When Frank left, I rang the homeowners as usual and confirmed with Mrs Davidson that we were getting closer to exchange, and in a week or two the sale would be complete. She sounded pleased and much more relaxed now she was in Cornwall.
When I picked James up, we had to wait for ages at the hospital pharmacy for his prescription to be filled. We shuffled away with a bag of antibiotics and painkillers. By the time we got back to his place, it was late afternoon and I tucked James onto the sofa before popping out to purchase some provisions for him for the week. Twenty minutes later, I was back preparing an early dinner.
His kitchen was basic, obvious he was a single man, living alone. There weren’t many plates or enough cutlery to hold much of a dinner party and the most extensive piece of kit, other than the microwave, was a pasta machine still in its dusty box. Perhaps the mysterious Helen had never lived here? He did say they were together in college and I doubted he’d lived in the flat for long.
I purchased microwave meals, prepared oven dinners, and a small amount of fresh food. Much like a shopping basket of my own, filled with food for one. Perhaps one day, I would be shopping for the both of us, together, under one roof? The idea made me feel light-headed. I’d never lived with anyone other than my parents. I’d come close, once or twice but something always got in the way, either that or it didn’t feel right. Even though our relationship so far had been full of obstacles and I wasn’t even sure if we were together in the normal sense, the connection I felt with James was strong. I cared for him and now I knew he wasn’t targeting me over something that happened twenty years ago, I’d be able to open up and perhaps let him in.
I did have to confront him about the secrets he was keeping. I felt confident he was not the father of Hayley’s unborn child; Robyn said so herself, she was with James the whole time that night. But why had he been searching for her? Why had Gareth asked him to? We’d have to talk about it soon. There were too many unanswered questions.
‘Here, something to eat. Keep your strength up.’ I handed James a bowl full of tomato and basil pasta.
‘I could get used to this.’
‘Do you want me to stay, for tonight, to, you know, look after you?’ I asked as I headed back to the kitchen, hiding my rosy cheeks.
‘I’d like that,’ he called after me.
I headed back home to collect some things, calling Frank on the way to ask if he could open the office tomorrow if I wasn’t there for nine. Was I relying on him too much? I realised earlier when I was in the shop that I hadn’t bought Frank anything to thank him for helping out when the agency front window was smashed. I picked up a bottle of Glen Moray whisky and made sure to leave it on his desk when I popped home.
When I returned, James’s spare key hot in my hand, he’d fallen asleep. I’d brought my laptop with me, so I sat in the armchair, listening to him snore gently beside me. Hoping the light from the screen or the tapping of the keys wouldn’t wake him. I googled Hayley Keeble, but there were still no hits. Staring at the list of irrelevant links, it occurred to me that she might not even be Hayley any more. We’d considered the possibility of her being married with a new surname, but she didn’t need to get married to change her name. She could have changed her name to anything. Become anyone. Isn’t that what people do when they want to disappear? It’s what I’d do. Change my name, change my appearance. She might not be a redhead any more, but the one thing she couldn’t change was her age. We were both thirty-six, but aside from her freckles, I couldn’t remember any distinguishing features, other than her Roman nose. She had no moles or scars that I could recall.
I searched how easy it was to change your name via deed poll. The process was a simple form and one-off payment of around £30. You didn’t even need a birth certificate.
I moved on to Facebook, saw that Robyn had tagged us all, including Elliot, in one of the group selfies from our night out in Brighton. All of us beaming at the camera with bloodshot eyes. From there, I clicked onto Gareth’s memorial wall. Anonymous Amy had left another comment – this time a single word on his condolence page:
RAPIST
I shook my head, disgusted that Gareth’s fiancé Lisa would have to see it. She didn’t deserve the pain it would cause, to have Gareth’s memory muddied with such an accusation.
I turned off the laptop, the search leaving a sour taste in my mouth. James began to stir and I got up to make us a cup of tea.
‘Ah thanks,’ he said when I placed it on the coffee table. He reached his arms up to stretch and then winced clutching his side.
‘You okay?’
‘Yep, forgot for a second that I’m the walking wounded.’ He blew out a long breath.
‘Listen, can you tell me why you really visited Hayley’s parents? It’s been playing on my mind. I have to know if it’s all connected.’
James’s eyes darkened for a second, but he nodded. ‘Gareth asked me to go. His brother Craig said some stupid stuff, when we were all drunk one night. He said he’d slept with Hayley, trying to wind Gareth up, but we didn’t believe him. That same night, after we left, Craig picked a fight with the wrong crowd and was pretty much beaten to death in the pub car park.’
I gasped, realising the story was vaguely familiar, Mum had told me when it had happened, a couple of years ago.
‘Gareth looked up to his brother; I have no idea why; he was a real waste of space. Craig was the one that got him into steroids when we were in our twenties. For a while, they were juicing every day and hitting the gym hard. When Craig was killed, Gareth was devastated. He wanted to find out if what he’d said was true. That’s why we went looking for Hayley. We found her parents and went to see them, only Gareth couldn’t bring himself to go in, so I went instead.’
‘So, Craig could have been the father of Hayley’s baby?’ I stiffened, my muscles rigid. Every fibre tensing as I tried to picture what I was suggesting.
‘Maybe. But we never found Hayley and Gareth didn’t want anyone to know that his precious brother might have knocked up a schoolgirl. He swore me to secrecy, to protect Craig’s memory, for his parents. I promised I would, and now their sons are both gone.’ James stared out of the window for a second before clearing his throat and taking a slurp of his tea.
‘I wish you’d told me,’ I said, feeling my chest loosen and nudging his arm with mine.
‘I was trying to be a good mate.’ James replied with a sigh.
The following morning, I left James sleeping and hurried home for a shower. He’d said his mum would be round an
d I didn’t want to meet her and it look like I was sneaking out the door, the morning after the night before. Also, I’d been nervous leaving the flat, and office, unattended overnight, but nothing was amiss when I returned. Everything was where I left it, no cards or presents in sight. I had an extra spring in my step and concluded it was down to a good night’s sleep, being away from home and with James who, despite the circumstances, did wonders for my mood. It felt fantastic to get everything out into the open; I could relax now there were no secrets between us.
When Frank arrived, we had a tea together, but I hadn’t missed much. I sent James a text to ask if he was missing me, not expecting a reply as he’d still be asleep, and got to work.
The morning whizzed by with customers dropping in and the phones seemed to be constantly ringing. Everyone was in, and at their desks, the air buzzing. Business was good and if it carried on, I would have to take on another salesperson, part-time maybe.
I sat behind my desk, eating a sandwich I’d nipped upstairs to make. When my mobile rang, it was Robyn and she was sobbing so hard I couldn’t make out her words.
‘Robyn, what’s happened?
‘There’s been an accident,’ she shrieked.
My heart stopped, like a clock that had abruptly ceased to tick. Whatever Robyn was about to say, I knew it wasn’t good or an accident.
‘Mark’s in intensive care.’
37
October 2018
I couldn’t speak at first, my voice caught in my throat, instead a faint gasp left my lips. First Gareth, nearly James and now Mark. My whole body tensed until muscles began to twitch in my arms and legs. I wasn’t aware at first how tight my jaw was clenched until I released it to speak.
