by Lynda Stacey
‘The rooms are locked because they’re filled with his parents’ belongings, that’s not weird. It is their house; they are entitled to privacy.’
Jess pursed her lips and glared. ‘Okay, Maddie. But if his parents have moved back to Ireland, why on earth haven’t they taken all their prized possessions with them? Don’t forget, these possessions are so valuable they need locking in a room that has three bloody locks on the door. As I said, Maddie, it’s weird.’
Jess was right. It was strange. But Madeleine had missed Michael so much that when Liam eventually came along, she’d thought he’d fill the huge void that was her heart. She’d been prepared to overlook some of his odd behaviour, some of the things he’d done, in favour of the intimacy, and the companionship. But instead of cushioning the hole in her heart, he’d torn it back apart.
Madeleine sobbed. ‘You’re right. I once made Poppy a promise, Jess. Do you remember when she lay in that incubator as a tiny baby? We both sat there, me and you, night after night, and I kept promising that I’d be both mother and father to her, do you remember that? I promised that if she’d only survive, I’d look after her, protect her and keep her safe and I’m not doing that, Jess, am I? I’m letting her down.’ The tears now fell unashamedly down her face and she picked up a napkin, drying her eyes.
Jess once again caught hold of her hands. ‘You are not letting her down, you’re a wonderful mother. But as for him, you need to get rid. He’s possessive and cruel. He doesn’t love you, Maddie. He wouldn’t act like this, not if he really loved you. And as for where you’d go, that’s easy, you can come and stay with me. We’d manage, we always do.’
Madeleine shook her head. ‘Oh, Jess, that’s so sweet of you but you haven’t thought this through, have you? Things have changed. We can’t just bunk up together like we did as teenagers. I have Poppy to think of now and Buddy to consider. And you, my darling sister, have a one-bedroomed flat, with no garden. It’d be great fun for the first night, but it’d soon become a problem. It just wouldn’t be practical.’
Jess turned to the counter and ordered more coffee. ‘So what then? You could rent, there’s a nice ground floor flat near me. That’d be okay for Buddy, wouldn’t it?’
Madeleine shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’m not sure they’d want me. I gave up my benefits when I moved in with Liam. All I get now are my royalties and they’re sporadic. I never know what money is coming in, nor whether it’s enough to actually live on.’
Madeleine listened as Jess came up with every idea she could think of – none of them realistic. There was nothing she could do and nowhere she could go. She was trapped.
‘Okay, okay, I know it’s a long shot, but you could always ask your dad for help,’ Jess said finally. ‘He has that big hotel over near Scarborough. Couldn’t you stay there? Surely he’d have the room?’ Jess held her hands up and shrugged her shoulders. ‘Besides, it’s about time he did something other than send you jewellery at Christmas and money on your birthdays.’
Madeleine gulped and choked on her coffee. Splatters of the liquid sprayed out of her mouth and into the napkin that she still held in her hand. Coughing wildly, she took in deep breaths in an attempt to control her breathing, as Jess banged her wildly on the back.
‘Hell, Maddie, are you okay?’
‘Jess, do … do … you have any idea what you’re suggesting? Mum left him, you know … when I was five. I didn’t see him very often after that and haven’t seen him at all since he married Josie.’ She looked at Jess apologetically as she said the words. She was going to say that their mum had left him just a few days after Jess had been born and it had become very obvious that Jess was not his.
Jess shrugged. ‘So?’
‘So, what do you suggest I do, knock on the bloody door and introduce myself?’
‘It’d be a start.’
Madeleine shook her head. ‘What would I say, “Hi Dad, it’s me, Maddie. I know we haven’t seen each other for years, but can I, my three-year-old daughter and a puppy who pees like a greyhound come and live with you?”’ Madeleine sighed.
She knew her father had cared: they’d seen each other weekly at first and had tea together every Tuesday and a whole afternoon each Sunday. But then her mother had made it difficult for the meetings to continue and her father had eventually re-married. After which, she’d insist that she pick her up from school on a Tuesday and take her out, ensuring they were not home when Madeleine’s father had arrived to pick her up. It hadn’t occurred to Madeleine what was happening at first. The novelty of outings with her mother after school had been fun. But Sundays had been different, she’d sat for hours waiting for her father to arrive. Then her mother would come into the room, tell her that her father had phoned and that their visit had been cancelled. But none of it was true. Her mother had made the excuses, told him not to come and ensured that after he’d married Josie, Madeleine had no time to get to know her at all.
He’d written for years, sent birthday cards and Christmas gifts. He’d sent money to help support her, paid for her to go to college, her prom dress and had sent her a cheque for a thousand pounds after Poppy had been born. The money had bought a crib, a pram, numerous baby clothes and a whole year’s supply of nappies. Yet he hadn’t visited. He’d been missing on so many occasions. Occasions that Madeleine had hoped and wished he’d turn up for.
‘At least you know where your dad is, Maddie. God only knows where my sperm donor ended up?’ Jess was trying to ease the tension, trying to make Madeleine smile, but to say that Jess was bitter about her own father was an understatement. Their mother had once tried to explain that Jess’s father had been a one-night stand. He’d been a tall, obviously very dark, smooth, charming, gorgeous Caribbean sailor. They’d spent a few hours chatting, gone for a drink and one thing had led to another. A quick fumble behind the club had led to Jess being born and without a name or phone number to trace him by.
‘There has to be another way, Jess.’
Jess laughed. ‘Mmmmm let me think. Oh, yeah, what are the options: you could either join a sect in another country, ask your dad for help, or you could come and live with me.’
Madeleine joined in the laughter. ‘Me, live in a sect. Oh, Jess, be real, I doubt that I’d conform. Besides, I have to work. I want to work.’
Jess drained the last of her coffee. ‘Maddie, you’re an author. I would have thought you could work anywhere.’
It was true, as long as she had her laptop, she could work from anywhere in the world. But she really didn’t want to move, she liked living in Yorkshire. No, she loved living in Yorkshire and what’s more she wanted Poppy to go to school in Yorkshire, just like she had.
Madeleine picked up her coat. ‘Come on, you look awful and need your bed and I need to go back to Liam’s and start packing.’
Chapter Three
Madeleine drove at speed.
It was just after eleven o’clock and her phone had been ringing repeatedly for the past five minutes. She looked at the screen and once again, Liam’s name flashed before her eyes and, for what seemed like the millionth time, she pressed the red button, rejecting the call.
He was so predictable, so controlling and always called at eleven o’clock without fail. What’s more she knew he’d be angry that she hadn’t answered, but she didn’t care. He wouldn’t be home for hours. Only then would she have the chance to speak to him properly, look him in the eye and tell him that she was going to leave him.
With her car parked in the garage, Madeleine entered the house by the back door, let Buddy out into the garden and then headed to the front of the house and up the stairs, stepping into the room where she normally wrote. Madeleine looked at the desk and immediately wished she had more light and space. She’d have been happier closer to the window, and had begged Liam time and time again to allow her to move the desk to a position where she could have looked out at the trees and moorland that surrounded the house. But in his normal fashion, Liam had been adamant that she
had her desk in a dark corner, tucked away behind the door. He’d insisted that it was the only place it could go, but she didn’t like it there and she made herself a promise that once she’d escaped and moved to her own place, she’d have all the light that she could find.
She tripped over the edge of a rolled up carpet. The room was cluttered, another reason for her hating it and another reason why Liam had positioned the desk where he had. The room was filled with Liam’s golf clubs, football boots, and an old metal-framed junior bed that stood in one corner, with no mattress. On top of it were numerous cardboard boxes that were piled up high. Each one on top of the other, yet none had any identifying labels to indicate what might be hidden inside. She sighed. Jess had been right. All of this was weird, especially the hideous, old antique vase that had apparently been his ma’s pride and joy.
The house still belonged to his parents and most of the boxes had been left behind when they’d moved back to Ireland many years before, yet as Jess had said, in the time that Madeleine had lived there, they’d never been back to visit, never phoned and as far as she knew never contacted Liam in any way, which made Madeleine wonder when they might return and if they ever did, whether they’d take their hideous furniture back with them.
‘Okay, let’s start.’ Madeleine looked up at the loft ladder, pulled it down and went up the steps to retrieve her bags. She knew that packing wouldn’t be easy and that since she’d moved in she’d accumulated so much more than she’d brought with her, but her mind was made up. She had to leave and leaving meant packing.
She sat at the desk, looking through her books. They were all important to her and had to be packed. Her eyes glanced at the boxes that stood in the room and she decided that if she emptied some, she could re-use the boxes. Liam had always told her not to touch his parents’ things, but he hadn’t said that she couldn’t tip the contents out and re-use the box, now had he?
She’d packed three bags and six boxes when her concentration was broken.
She looked up at the door. She was sure she’d heard something. Sitting silently, she heard the noise again. It was a key. A key in the front door. Then giggling, followed by loud, high pitched squealing. Then the door opened and slammed shut.
Madeleine held her breath. Someone was in the house. But who?
She was scared. No one should have a key. Creeping on her hands and knees to the top of the stairs, she manoeuvred herself behind a cupboard that stood halfway along the landing. No one knew she was home and her breathing quickened with fear.
‘Don’t worry, she’s out shopping with her so-called sister,’ Liam’s voice echoed through the hallway as Madeleine peeped out from behind the cupboard. He was leaning towards the wall. Pressed beneath him was a young woman with long blonde hair, in what may have been a very short black skirt – the remnants of which were lifted high above her waist and now resembled a shiny belt. His hand and fingers worked fervently, tearing her underwear in his eagerness to expose her and his lips were kissing her face, neck and mouth so quickly that he barely took breath.
Madeleine gasped, and then closed her eyes.
Every conceivable thought went through her mind, along with all forms of fear and anguish. Pushing her fingers in her ears, her mind spiralled as she tried to decide what to do. The last thing she needed was to see or hear the huffing and puffing that was going on at the bottom of the stairs.
She’d wanted to leave. She was packing her things and was planning to tell him, but hadn’t realised that her leaving might have to come so soon. Her mind spun. She felt as though she were on the fastest rollercoaster she’d ever been on, with its stop stations whizzing past and at each stop station she had a choice, to jump or not to jump. But with each choice came a different scenario or outcome and each scenario was just as horrible or life changing as the one before.
She peered down the hall to where her bedroom stood. This had been her home for two months. It was where she lived, where Poppy lived and by confronting him she knew that she’d be rendering them both homeless and penniless.
But what choice did she have?
Taking in a deep breath, fury took over. He might have put a roof over her head, but he had no right do this to her. How dare he betray her by bringing some piece of skirt into their home and shagging her all over the hallway where only that morning, she’d kissed him goodbye?
Madeleine’s whole body shook with temper as she stood up, ready to confront him.
‘Liam O’Grady, you son of a bitch. I hope she’s worth it.’ She gulped as a shrill and constant scream came from somewhere deep within her and she wasn’t sure if the scream had left her mouth or not.
Liam gasped, jumped backward and then hurriedly dropped the woman in a heap on the hallway floor.
‘Angelina, get dressed.’ He pulled a coat from the coat hook and threw it over her partially naked body, as he rapidly fought to cover his own dignity. He then looked back up the wide Victorian staircase to where a furious Madeleine stood, still screaming.
‘What the hell are you doing home? You … You were going out shopping, you said you’d be gone all day.’ The words were pathetic. ‘Why the hell didn’t you answer the phone to me?’ He didn’t know what else to say. She’d said she’d be out. She’d lied and he wasn’t impressed, but he had no choice, he needed to make things right. He glanced at the clock, wished he could roll it back, but knew he couldn’t.
He turned to see Angelina’s angry face as she glared at him before opening the front door and stomping away at speed. His boss had gone and with her his job would probably have gone too. For a moment he hesitated, didn’t know which way to run. If he ran one way, he’d lose his job. If he ran the other, he’d be in danger of losing Madeleine, forever, and after all he’d gone through to get her, he had to keep her at all costs.
He’d loved her since school. He’d been two years above her and smiled, hovered in corridors and watched her every day in the hope that she’d speak to him, or give him the slightest smile in return. He remembered holding open doors, ensuring he was in the right place at the right time and whenever she’d been alone in the lunch hall, he’d made his way over to sit at the same table, perching nervously at the end in silence, without eating. He’d lost count of the times his food had gone cold, the times when his stomach had been tied up in so many knots that eating would have physically made him vomit. She’d never spoken to him, didn’t seem to know that he was there and then, to add insult to injury, she’d met Michael and he’d had to watch as they’d swooned over each other in the school corridors, watch while they obviously fell in love and then finally, he’d felt his heart break as she blossomed from child to woman in another man’s arms.
Liam tried to remember if he’d ever spoken to Michael Frost, but couldn’t. He didn’t really know him, but had hated him so much, despising him for having what he’d wanted the most and ensured that when the time had been right, when he’d thought that Madeleine was ready, he’d been the one in the right place, on the right day, to claim her.
Liam sighed. He knew that he’d been stupid. He’d thought that by getting close to Angelina, he’d save his job. Already he’d been on the redundancy list twice and Angelina had been part of the decision-making. So, without thinking, he’d embarked on a charm offensive, taking her out and treating her nice and when the opportunity had arisen that morning, when he’d thought that Madeleine would be out all day, he’d allowed his body and libido to rule his head. He’d needed the sex, needed the release and with Poppy in the house, he sure as hell wasn’t getting it at home. But he loved Madeleine, he couldn’t live without her and was terrified that now she’d want to go, but he couldn’t and wouldn’t allow her to leave him. She belonged to him. He would never let her go.
He took a step towards the bottom of the stairs. ‘Darlin’, listen. You’ve got to believe me. I can explain. What you saw there, it’s not how it looked. It meant nothing, honestly.’ He shuffled from one foot to another. ‘You know that it’s you t
hat I love; you do know that, don’t you?’ he cried feebly, his arms outstretched. ‘It was my job, Maddie. They’re making redundancies, I didn’t want it to be me and Angelina could have spoken up for me, put in a good word. Besides, with Poppy bursting in all the time, you can’t blame me for having needs, can you?’
He knew that Madeleine had stopped listening. She’d disappeared from the top of the stairs and he inched himself onto the first step, stood on his tiptoes and tried to work out where she’d gone. But as soon as his foot touched the step, he saw a torrent of his possessions begin to fly towards him. He cowered pathetically, just as a second huge bundle of clothes hurtled their way over the banister, hangers still attached.
‘Don’t you dare insult my bloody intelligence, Liam. Don’t you bloody well dare.’ Madeleine ran back into the spare bedroom, and picked up his golf clubs. She paused momentarily, thinking of the damage they’d do. They were heavy and the last thing she wanted was to damage her home. But then, in an instant, the reality tore through her: this house wasn’t her home, and with that thought, she threw them one by one, as Liam hid in the entrance of the front room. She watched as he stood behind the door, cowering and protecting himself from the onslaught, as one by one the clubs were launched towards him. Madeleine stopped throwing them temporarily, ran to his wardrobe and grabbed a box full of shoes; once again she began launching them over the banister, knowing that at the speed and velocity she was throwing them, he’d have no time to gain his composure in between the attacks.
She watched as they all landed randomly in a mess at the bottom of the stairs and laughed. He liked his clothes to be perfectly pressed, his shoes to be polished to a shine and she knew how much he’d hate to see everything strewn all over the floor.
There was a moment of silence as Liam began crawling on his hands and knees in a frantic attempt to pick up his scattered clothes. He began folding them neatly, as another rail of clothes fell next to where he knelt.
