‘I saw you, remember?’ I reply. ‘I saw you choking her that day we had the barbeque in Sefton Park.’
‘You mean the day she told me she wished she was dead and stopped answering my messages? I was shit scared she’d done something stupid, and yes, I was angry when I tracked her down to the park. I know I shouldn’t have grabbed her by the throat. It was a stupid taunt, that’s all.’
‘And was it a stupid taunt that gave her the bruises on her neck they found in her autopsy? When did you start using the scarves?’
‘That wasn’t me! For God’s sake, Jen. In case you haven’t figured it out, she found someone who would,’ he says as he shoves his hands in his pockets. ‘Do you know how hard it is to sit here and admit that I couldn’t satisfy my girlfriend? That I was celibate for most of our relationship when I’d gone around school playing the big I Am? You’ve got me wrong and this campaign of hate has to stop. I’ve told you as much as I can. I’ve been carrying Meg’s secrets around with me for too fucking long and I’m beaten. Mum hasn’t got long left and you’re turning her last weeks into a nightmare. She knows something’s wrong and I don’t know how long I can keep pretending it isn’t.’
If I’m not mistaken, there’s a tremor in Lewis’s voice. ‘I’m sorry about that.’
‘Are you? Isn’t this what you wanted?’
‘What I want is for you to stop twisting the facts,’ I say, with a little too much desperation, because I find Lewis’s version of events compelling. ‘You’re the one who hurt Meg and you’re the one who’s been doing it again to someone else.’
‘You mean Ellie?’
‘Yes, Ellie.’
‘I don’t have a clue who this girl is, other than the fact that you told Iona I’ve been hurting her.’
‘Ellie isn’t necessarily her real name. You might know her by another—’
‘I don’t give a fuck what her name is. I’ve never met her and whatever she’s been telling you about me is pure fabrication. She’s a crank, Jen,’ Lewis says as he pulls something from his jacket pocket. The object I’d glimpsed earlier isn’t a page from Meg’s notepad at all. The yellow of the silk reflected in the window merges with the city lights beyond, but the splashes of blood orange are hauntingly familiar. The silk scarf Lewis gave Meg on her birthday winds around his knuckles.
My body tenses so that I’m poised to act if Lewis dares stand, but I doubt my reactions would be fast enough, or my legs steady enough for me to fling open the fire door and reach the safety of the apartment in time. I try for distraction.
‘She isn’t a crank, nor is she another of Meg’s games. Ellie is very real and her accounts of what you did to her, and to Meg, are by no means cryptic,’ I say, forcing my voice not to waver. I can’t take my eyes from the scarf Lewis holds taut in both hands like a garrotte. ‘You thought choking the breath out of them would silence them but you were wrong.’
‘No, you’re the one who’s wrong. Those scarves terrified me and if I’d known what Meg liked doing with them, I would never have bought her this one,’ he says, pulling it tighter. ‘She threw it back at me, you know. She said it didn’t belong in her collection.’
‘But it belongs in yours,’ I reply, staring at the scarf. ‘A souvenir?’
‘Iona found out I still had it and it freaked her out.’
‘I’m not surprised.’
‘When did you get to be such a heartless bitch, Jen?’ Lewis asks as he stands up to reveal his full reflection. His dark clothes and baseball hat blur his outline but the profile of his face as he glares at the back of my head makes the hairs on my neck prickle.
I’m gripping the safety bar tightly and my palm is slick with sweat. I slip my free hand into my jacket pocket and find the personal alarm I’ve carried with me since my last encounter with Lewis. I hope to God Charlie is home to hear it when I set it off.
‘You’re not going to listen to reason, are you?’ Lewis continues, turning his head and catching my reflection in the window. Our eyes lock. ‘You won’t consider anything I have to say about Meg, or me, or Charlie for that matter, because it’s not what you want to hear.’
‘Not when there’s evidence to the contrary,’ I tell him. ‘Ellie knows too much to be making it up.’
‘Unless I’m suffering from some weird form of amnesia, I’m not the Lewis she’s talking about,’ he says. He catches me blinking one too many times and his grip on Meg’s scarf loosens. ‘Shit, Jen. She hasn’t mentioned me by name, has she? You’ve just assumed it’s me.’
‘With good reason. When you found out Ellie was phoning the helpline and attacked her, you made your first mistake. You see, there were only a very small number of people who knew about her calls, and one of them was you.’
‘Setting aside the fact that I didn’t know,’ he says, ‘who else did you tell?’
‘People I trust.’
‘People like Charlie?’ he asks. ‘Funny how our conversation keeps coming back to him.’
I want to respond with a clever retort but I can’t. I can hear Ellie’s voice echoing through my mind. Say goodbye to Charlie, she’d said.
40
Ruth
‘Mum, are you OK?’ Sean asks. ‘Is there a problem with selling up?’
‘There could be a setback but your dad’s having dinner with Oscar tonight,’ I say, wishing that was our only problem. ‘I’ll know more when he’s home.’
I don’t mention how angry Geoff had been when he told me there was a real possibility we might have to look for a new buyer and I’d failed to share his frustration. I’d phoned to tell him about the latest call from Ellie but the mention of her name had sent him apoplectic. She’s a living reminder of what Meg had been forced to endure, and while I can understand his distress, this isn’t going away. In fact, if what I’m thinking is right, it’s moved closer to home.
‘Then what’s wrong?’ Sean asks, all traces of sleep gone from his voice.
‘I’ve been thinking a lot about Meg, or should I say, more than usual,’ I admit.
‘Has this got something to do with that girl who phoned the helpline? Do you really think Lewis is involved?’
I haven’t mentioned Ellie to Sean and I’m left wondering how much Geoff has told him. ‘I honestly don’t know,’ I reply. ‘We were all so sure that Lewis was the one hurting Meg. It was never questioned.’
‘Because he was a thug and that’s what thugs do.’
‘But what if we were wrong?’ I ask, and as I talk, my finger circles the whiskey tumbler. The glass rim is dry and tugs at my skin, heeding my progress. ‘I keep looking at the videos. According to Jen, Meg didn’t start dating Lewis until months after they’d started sixth form and yet I can see a difference in her before then. You must remember how upset she was at our anniversary party. We assumed it was because your Auntie Eve wouldn’t let Jen move in with us, but what if there was something else bothering her?’ Or someone, a voice in my head adds.
‘I was pretty drunk that night. All I remember is Meg being in her element when all the guests started to arrive at the hotel. She got me to order the bottle of champagne we left in the honeymoon suite for you and Dad.’
‘You mean the one your dad polished off before I’d even got to the room,’ I remind him. ‘But you’re right. Meg put so much effort into it all and she was happy for us, and happier still to have you home from uni. Her change in behaviour later on doesn’t make sense.’
‘Jen and Charlie were there. Have you asked them? They might be able to put your mind at ease.’
‘I don’t think they will.’
‘Look, you’re not the only one to go back over what happened,’ Sean says as the strength in his voice wanes. ‘I wish I’d taken more time with Meg to work out what was going on. I knew you and Dad were worried about her but she was the same old annoying sister in front of me, most of the time.’
My ears prick. ‘Only most?’
I hear Sean exhale through pursed lips. ‘There was some stuff I
found on her computer one time. It was when I was home for that last Christmas with Meg – and she was definitely dating Lewis by then. She’d been surfing the net and I thought she was just being curious. I didn’t know the significance at the time.’
‘What did you find, Sean? I need to know, no matter how unpleasant.’
There’s a long pause before he speaks. ‘She’d been looking up articles on autoerotic asphyxiation. You know, it’s where—’
‘Yes, I know what it is, Sean,’ I say, my voice strangled. I let my head fall back and stretch my neck, conscious of the air travelling into my airways unheeded.
‘Right, well, I told Meg she needed to find a new boyfriend if he was mixing her up in that crap but she claimed she’d come across the site by accident.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me, or your dad?’
‘I ask myself the same thing every day,’ Sean says. ‘I suppose I was too embarrassed to talk to you about it. I thought, at worst, she was experimenting. I only realised she was being forced into it when I read that space story she’d written about not being able to breathe and having to get used to it. If you’d known, you might have got through to her before it was too late.’
What I’d actually meant was why Sean didn’t tell us after Meg’s death, but the point Sean raises is far more important, to him at least. Straightening up, I say, ‘There are a thousand differences we could have made but we have to keep reminding ourselves that we weren’t the ones subjecting her to abuse.’
‘I hope this takeover goes through soon,’ Sean says. ‘I want you down here, Mum and before you say it, I’m not being selfish. You can’t keep putting yourself through this, and maybe you should stop looking at those videos. Isn’t it bad enough that you have to deal with Lewis coming back, plus all those stories that girl’s been spinning? No wonder you’re feeling down.’
‘She’s not spinning stories, Sean.’
‘Dad seems to think she is.’
‘She’s not,’ I insist. I couldn’t defend Meg but I can and I will help Ellie – now that I know who she is. It had taken a second or two to place the voice I’d heard tonight on the helpline, but once I had, I could connect Ellie with everyone except the one person we thought had been abusing her.
‘Mum …’
‘I should go,’ I say. I’m hoping for a visitor tonight. When I told Ellie I’d be home alone this evening, I had no doubt she knew where to find me. ‘And don’t worry, Sean, we’ll work through this, we always do. Leave it with me.’
‘Are you sure? I could come up at the weekend if you like. Just me,’ he adds. ‘We could talk. I miss her too, Mum.’
‘I know you do,’ I tell him, feeling the tug that will one day help me build a new life once I’ve finished the painful task of dismantling the old.
41
Jen
‘Enough!’ I hiss as I let go of my anchor point and turn to face Lewis. There are no reflections, no mirror images, just two people standing feet away from each other with very different views of the world.
Lewis pulls Meg’s scarf taut again and I’m close enough to hear the threads snap. He sees my fear and his eyes widen too. ‘I’m not …’ he begins. Shoving the scarf into a pocket, he adds, ‘Out of all of us, I never wanted you to get hurt, Jen.’
‘No? Have you forgotten when you threatened me in Chavasse Park? Or how you made a grab for me outside the office? And let’s not forget that you’re here now. You haven’t changed, Lewis.’
‘No, I haven’t. I’m still the same person you’re too scared to see,’ he says, and as we hold each other’s gaze, I catch a glimpse of the boy I wanted to kiss. ‘Last week was a mistake. I’d spent the day helping Mum settle into the hospice and I decided then that I should speak to you. I’d had enough – and that was before you’d accosted Iona for the second time.’
‘And you couldn’t have just called?’
‘Last time I phoned you, you slammed down the phone,’ he reminds me. ‘And fair enough, I was trying to frighten you off so you wouldn’t show up at another of my boot camp sessions, but not last week. I genuinely wanted to talk and if I hadn’t grabbed you, you would have fallen flat on your face. I didn’t realise you’d be so terrified of me.’
‘I’m not,’ I lie.
Lewis’s humourless smile is a stark contrast to the intensity of his stare. ‘I know you see me as the enemy, but it wasn’t me who brought us to this place, Jen, it was you,’ he says. ‘Although right now I’m not sure where that leaves us. I thought your friend Ellie was a fraud, albeit a well-informed one, but if you’re convinced she’s genuine then I have as much of an interest in getting to the truth as you do.’
I lean back and feel the pressure of the bar across the fire door on my back. If I press against it, the door will open but my problems will follow me even if Lewis doesn’t. ‘The only reason you want to get to the truth is so you can twist it. If by some chance someone else was hurting Meg about, do you seriously expect me to believe you stood back and did nothing for two years?’
‘She told me the scratches on her arms were self-inflicted and I assumed the bruises were too. It was what everyone else thought. If someone’s twisting the truth, it’s not me, I swear. I didn’t know of Ellie’s existence until Iona told me.’
Lewis’s voice holds conviction but at last I spot a flaw in the story he’s been weaving. ‘Iona didn’t tell you about Ellie. It was Geoff when he confronted you two weeks ago. That’s why you crushed her windpipe as a lesson not to talk to me again. You really don’t know when to stop, do you? How much further would you have taken it with Meg if she hadn’t killed herself? How much further will you take it with Ellie?’
When Lewis takes a step towards me, my instinct should be to push open the door and get out of there but I do the opposite. I press the button on the personal alarm in my pocket and lash out with my free hand, landing a punch on the side of Lewis’s face that does more damage to my fingers than his cheek.
‘Get away from me!’
Lewis raises his hand but rather than striking back, he grabs my arm. ‘I don’t want to hurt you!’ he shouts above the howl of the alarm bouncing off the walls of the stairwell.
His grip is fierce but I manage to jerk my arm free, turning towards the door at the same time, where my clammy fingers glance off the safety bar. Unbalanced, I stumble forward and my head cracks against the metal rod. The door flies open and I smash onto the hard floor of the corridor.
As I twist over, Lewis looms over me. ‘I’m not who you think I am.’
‘Get off her!’ roars Charlie.
Lewis weaves away from the punch Charlie throws and, this time, he is prepared to hit back. With the poise of a professional boxer, he lands his punch and there’s the sickening crunch of bone and cartilage as Charlie staggers back, blood pouring from his nose. I pick myself up from the floor and launch myself at Lewis before he can hit Charlie a second time. Lewis retreats into the stairwell, deflecting my blows with his arms. He still won’t raise a hand to me.
There’s a brief moment when I think I’m in control but Charlie sweeps past and flails at Lewis. His blows miss their mark and Lewis grabs him by the collar and twists him around so that Charlie is pressed against the rails with his back arching over the stairwell.
‘Please, no!’ I scream.
Charlie’s hands flutter as he searches for purchase on something that isn’t Lewis. ‘Jen! Phone the police!’
Lewis keeps hold of Charlie as he snaps his head towards me. ‘Stay there! You need to hear this,’ he says. ‘We all need to hear this.’
‘Hear what?’ Charlie asks, his voice full of panic as he grabs hold of the railing that may or may not prevent him from plunging to his death.
Lewis leans over him, making Charlie’s position all the more precarious. ‘Tell her what you did to Meg,’ he hisses.
‘I didn’t—’
‘Liar!’
‘Please, leave him alone,’ I beg but there’s no conviction in m
y voice and Lewis doesn’t hear me. I reach into my pocket and silence the howling alarm, but that simply allows the questions in my head to grow louder – questions that only Charlie can answer. I could make my plea again but I don’t. Lewis is right. I do need to hear this.
‘Tell Jen you slept with Meg. Tell her how you humiliated her,’ Lewis says, his voice lower but no less menacing. ‘Tell her that’s why she killed herself.’
‘Don’t make me do this,’ Charlie pleads. He dares to glance in my direction and adds, ‘Please, Jen.’
Then keep quiet, I want to tell him. Don’t destroy everything I’ve ever loved about you. I would almost prefer him to disappear over the railing than hear his confession, but when Lewis shoves Charlie hard enough to make him cry out, I rush forward and wrap an arm around Lewis’s neck.
‘Leave him,’ I growl.
To my surprise, Lewis yanks Charlie up straight.
‘Tell me what you did, Charlie,’ I demand.
His sobs are pitiful. ‘What do you want me to say, Jen?’
‘The truth!’
The wretched man in front of me with snot and blood sliding down his face is not my Charlie, and I don’t reach out to comfort him when, released from Lewis’s grip, he staggers to the stairs. He slumps down and covers his face. I want him to cover his mouth too. I believed in you, Charlie. Don’t make the last ten years be a lie.
‘We were both trying to drown our sorrows,’ he begins.
‘When?’ asks Lewis. ‘The first time or the last?’
‘There was only one time.’
Lewis looks to me. ‘After what I’ve heard today, I doubt that.’
‘Do you want to hear this or what?’ Charlie answers back, daring to look at Lewis, if only briefly. ‘It was the day of our A Level results. You were all celebrating, planning your futures while I was watching mine go down the pan. I saw Meg storm off and waited for you to follow her, but you didn’t.’
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