‘And what did your parents do about it?’ I ask, sick to my stomach.
‘Oh, he always managed to talk his way out of it.’
But not this, I think angrily. He will never be able to talk his way out of what he’s done to me.
‘I was so relieved when he left home,’ Paul continues. ‘Couldn’t wait to see the back of him.’
A chill descends down my spine and I pull my coat tighter around me. The wind has picked up and it’s nearly dark. I look into the sky, expecting to see stars, but I remember we’re in London, the night sky is hardly ever clear, unlike Bath. Before I found that stuff in Ben’s car I would never have believed that he could be nasty and manipulative. But now I see that I fell in love with a monster. ‘So where does Beatrice fit into all this?’
‘That’s where it gets interesting,’ says Paul. ‘He meets Beatrice, his twin sister, for the first time at university. They were drawn to each other – that’s what I heard him telling Mum, anyway, as though that excuses everything. They only went and started a relationship, not knowing they were related.’
Bile washes up my throat and I think I’m going to be sick. ‘A relationship?’
‘That’s right. They were lovers before they found out they were twins. Can you believe it? My brother shagged his own twin sister. When they found out they were related, they freaked out. Didn’t see each other again for years. Then she inherits all this money from her adopted father and Ben manages to worm his way back into her life. I remember seeing him reading the obituary in the newspaper, so he knew she had come into money. Within weeks he had made contact with her again. Three months later, he moved to Bath to live with her.’
I feel a rush of vertigo. Paul’s pale face, with his gleeful yellow-toothed smile, swims in front of me, and I can’t help it. I vomit into the neighbour’s box hedge.
Nia rubs my back and holds my hair away from my face. ‘You had no idea?’ Paul says when I’ve recovered. My whole body is trembling. The smile has slipped off his face now and he looks concerned for me. ‘I’m sorry, but you deserve to know the truth.’
I stand up, staring at him through my blurred vision.
‘He was desperate that you weren’t to find out,’ he says, his voice more serious now. He jumps off the wall and stands before us. He’s as tall as Ben, but thinner. I imagine him as a cute six-year-old kid being beaten up by thugs while his older brother did nothing to protect him and I fight the urge to vomit all over again. How could I have not seen Ben for the person he really is? Why was I so gullible? So desperate?
‘Abi,’ he says intently. ‘Ben went for my mum, the other day. She’s terrified of him now.’
Nia’s voice is sharp. ‘What do you mean?’
I grab hold of Nia for support, my legs still weak. I don’t know if I have the strength to listen to any more horrible revelations about the man I thought I loved, thought I knew.
‘She went to stay with Martin in Bristol last week. The soft mare thought that Ben might actually be mourning for Dad. When she couldn’t get hold of him, she was worried. So she went to Beatrice’s house to look for him. He wasn’t there, so she went back a couple of days later with Martin …’
That must have been the day I saw him go off in the Mondeo, I think. I can still taste acid in my mouth and I hope I’m not going to be sick again.
‘He was furious with her for coming to the house twice,’ Paul continues relentlessly. ‘Martin said when they got to his flat, Ben went mental. Ranted at both of them, before flying at Mum, pushing her to the floor. He actually raised his fist, was going to hit her, Martin was sure of it. Martin wrestled him out of the house and we haven’t seen Ben since. I came out here to warn you, Abi.’ His voice takes on an urgent tone. ‘He’s not only a manipulative liar, but when he’s backed into a corner, he can be dangerous.’
Chapter Thirty-Three
He’s like a caged animal, brimming with barely concealed menace, unable to settle as he prowls around the house. Beatrice has never seen this side of him in all the years that she’s known him, both then and now, and it scares her. She’s unable to find the right thing to say, or do, to make everything better, and she knows she’s lost her power over him, she’s not the one he loves the most any more. Her twin intuition has failed her; maybe it was never there in the first place. Maybe it only works when you’ve grown up with your twin. She envies Abi. She may have lost Lucy, but they shared a childhood, they were proper twins, and that’s something she never got to experience with Ben.
It’s nearly ten o’clock and she is alone in the house with him. Pam and Cass are staying over in Frome with Trudy. They invited her along, but she declined because she was worried about leaving him. Since their argument and the cruel way he spoke to her, she wishes she had gone out with them after all. She knows that Ben will always have the capacity to hurt her because she loves him – has always loved him, more than he has ever loved her.
She can hear him in his bedroom, slamming about the place; a toddler having a tantrum because his playmate has had to go home. She considers going to him but doesn’t know if she can bear to hear any more of his insults, to witness his complete lack of consideration for her. Abi, Abi, Abi. How did she become so easily replaced? She should have noticed, should have realized that Abi is her brother’s obsession, just as he is hers.
Through the walls she hears his mobile trill, followed by his deep muffled voice speaking urgently to someone and she can’t help herself, she throws open her door and rushes into his bedroom. Her first thought is how cold and dark the room is, before she notices that the doors to his balcony are propped open by the stone Egyptian cat he’s so fond of, his curtains billowing in the wind.
‘It’s freezing in here,’ she says. He’s sitting on his bed in the darkness with his head bent, staring at the phone in his hands, and he looks so vulnerable, so sad, that she’s compelled to go to him regardless of how nasty he’s been.
‘That was Abi. She’s on her way home.’
An unexpected surge of relief takes hold of her. ‘That’s great news, isn’t it?’
He tosses the mobile on to the carpet. ‘She’s only coming back to get her stuff, and because I told her I was away with work.’
Her stomach drops. ‘Why did you lie to her?’
‘So that she would come back. If I can talk to her, explain, I can make her see …’ His voice trails off and he stares at the phone in his hands. When he looks up at her again she takes a step back from the bleakness in his eyes. ‘She knows.’
Beatrice gulps. ‘Knows what?’
‘Everything,’ he says, in a monotone that is beginning to alarm her.
It is as though Beatrice’s windpipe is narrowing. She tries to keep the panic from her voice. ‘How can she know everything, Ben? It’s impossible.’
‘I’ve tried to stop her finding out,’ he continues, still in the same eerily calm voice. ‘It was my worst fear. You were the only thing I couldn’t control, Bea. I was scared you were going to tell her.’ He turns again to the window, as if searching for answers in the stormy night.
‘Me?’ she laughs nervously. ‘Why would I tell her?’
He turns to look at her again, kneeling on the floor in front of him now, but she can’t read his expression, his face is concealed by shadows. The only light in the room comes from the full moon outside. ‘You never had anything to lose, did you? Except me.’
‘I didn’t tell her, I promise.’
He carries on as if she hasn’t spoken. ‘I know you’re in love with me and I think it’s fucking disgusting. I hate what we did, I hate having to look at you, to be reminded. And then I meet her, so beautiful, so precious, so vulnerable, and there you are with your jealousy and put-downs, always reminding me that I have to play along if I want to live in your fucking house, have your fucking money, otherwise you might spill the beans.’ His voice is gradually rising, spit forms in the corners of his mouth.
She can’t help herself. She laughs bitterly. �
��You’re joking, surely? Ben, don’t you see? You’ve chosen a woman who looks exactly. Like. Me.’
He frowns as if it’s occurring to him now.
‘And I wouldn’t have spilled the beans, I wouldn’t …’ She trails off, anger spent as she contemplates their situation.
He shakes his head although he doesn’t take his eyes off her. ‘I couldn’t take the risk. Especially when the two of you seemed so friendly. I had to keep you both apart.’
Then it hits her why Abi really left, what she was talking about the other day when she walked out. ‘You did it all, didn’t you? You stole my bracelet and her letters, you wanted her to believe that I had it in for her, that I was jealous of your relationship. And you wanted me to believe she was jealous of ours. Is that why you wanted to go to the Isle of Wight that day? I didn’t know that’s where Abi was, but you did. She saw me on the wall – did you plan that, Ben? Was it another mindfuck? Did you plant that photograph too? And send the flowers? What about that dead bird on her bed? I had my doubts Sebby would do such a thing, but I thought I was wrong. Oh my God, Ben that’s … that’s so sick.’
He laughs. But it’s a laugh devoid of humour and it scares her more than anything else has tonight.
‘It wasn’t hard to do. You made it even easier with your possessiveness.’
It hurts to hear the venomous way he’s talking to her. Does he hate her that much? ‘You’re right, I am possessive – because I love you. I’m in love with you, I can’t help it. I’ve tried to see you as my twin brother, but I can’t, I can’t …’ she sobs, her whole body convulsing at finally being able to say the ugly truth. ‘I want you so, so much. And I know you love me too. That’s why you chose her, don’t you see? Because you actually want me but you can’t have me so you chose the next best thing, someone who looks like me, someone—’
‘Shut up,’ he says.
She stands up so that she’s towering over him, tears and snot running down her face. ‘Don’t you think I feel fucking guilty too, Ben? Don’t you think I worry about what will happen to me? It’s against the law, what we’ve done. But I don’t care any more. I love you and I want to be with you—’
‘I said SHUT UP,’ he screams, jumping up and grabbing her by the wrists, shaking her. ‘Shut your fucking disgusting mouth.’
‘Stop it. Ben, stop it, you’re hurting me,’ she pleads, a ricochet of fear making her tremble. ‘Please, I want to be able to move on too. I don’t want to love you this way.’
‘You’ll never let me go, will you?’ He says through clenched teeth. He yanks her away from the bed towards the balcony. When he next speaks his voice is once again calm, detached – terrifying. ‘I’m sorry, Beatrice, but I have to do this. I have to end this ridiculous situation and then there will be no more secrets. No more lies.’ And it occurs to her, for the first time ever, that he could cause her physical harm.
She screams for him to stop as he drags her on to the Juliet balcony, pleads with him as he pushes her hard against the metal railings, and she kicks out at him, tries to strike him in the shins, but he’s so tall, so strong and she’s unable to stop the blow to the head that makes her cry out, causing her eyes to lose focus; she’s unable to prevent his hands from clamping her throat; and as he presses his fingers around her windpipe she finds she’s unable to make any sound at all.
Chapter Thirty-Four
It’s raining as I step out of the taxi and pay the driver. I stand at the wrought-iron gate and watch as it creeps away into the dark night. I pull the hood of my parka over my head and look up at Beatrice’s house. I’ve always thought of it as her house and now I know why. It never belonged to Ben. It still makes me queasy when I think of the secret they were so desperate to hide. Incest, the ultimate taboo, and I’ve been living alongside it, unaware, for months. Paul had assured me that it was all a long time ago, before they even knew they were related, but how can I be sure? How can any girlfriend Ben has in the future ever be sure? They had a sexual relationship before they discovered they weren’t merely brother and sister but twins. Not surprising they are so messed up and that Ben went to such great lengths to ensure I never found out.
The sash windows look dark, opaque, and the shutters are open. When I rang Ben earlier he told me he was away with work and that Beatrice was in Frome with Pam and Cass, visiting friends. His voice was distant on the phone, no more pleas for me to return, no more declarations of love. He didn’t even react when I told him I knew what he’d done, the secret he was trying to protect. It was as if the fight had gone out of him. As if he no longer cared about losing me.
After I put the phone down on Ben, I told Nia I was returning to the house. She urged me to wait until Monday, so she could come with me. ‘I’m on weekend duty,’ she explained, wringing her hands. But I assured her I’d be fine, that Ben was away so I wouldn’t have to face him. My plan now is to grab the rest of my stuff and then take a taxi to Mum and Dad’s.
I turn my key in the lock and let myself into the dark hallway, dumping my bag on the doormat and shouldering off my wet coat. I flick the switch, blinking as my eyes adjust to the light, nausea rising when I see Beatrice’s leopard-print pumps sitting neatly beside Ben’s black Chelsea boots. I never want to see either of them again. I tear my eyes away from their footwear and shiver. I’m cold to the bone. I’ve been sitting in my damp clothes for the two-hour journey from London and my jeans are sticking to my legs. I peel them off and wriggle out of my long-sleeved top so that I’m standing in the hall in my underwear. I bend down to rummage through my holdall for something, anything, to put on when I hear it.
A bang. Coming from above my head. Ben’s room.
I stand up, my heart racing, and listen. Was I mistaken? Nothing. Then I hear a miaow and see Sebby padding down the stairs and my whole body relaxes. It’s only the damn cat. I bend over my holdall again and pull out the first thing that comes to hand. Ironic, I think, as the silky material runs through my fingers. Beatrice’s green Alice Temperley dress. I throw it over my head, inhaling her scent as I do so. Parma violets. And I remember how Ben had stared at me that night in the drawing room when I first wore this dress, how he urged me not to let his sister turn me into her clone. How Maria had stopped me in the street, thinking that I was Beatrice. And it hits me: Ben was attracted to me because I look like his sister.
I stare at myself in the gilt-framed mirror above the radiator.
‘Oh my God,’ I say to my reflection, and I’m filled with revulsion. He fancied me, he wanted me, because I resemble her, the one woman he couldn’t have. I recall the sex: it was mind-blowing. Was it because he was thinking of her when he was with me? The room spins and I hold on to the pink radiator, wondering if I’m going to faint.
Another bang, louder this time, and my heart jumps into my throat. Someone’s upstairs. I freeze and for a second I contemplate grabbing my bag and running out into the wet night. But Ben is not here, and it might be Cass or Pam, or even Beatrice. I’ve been living here for four months. What am I afraid of?
I hear Paul’s voice, low and urgent. A warning. When he’s backed into a corner, he can be dangerous.
Ben is not here, I remind myself. He told me he was away with work. I tell myself not to be so pathetic and, once I’ve locked and bolted the front door and thrown the keys into the china bowl, I grab my holdall and head up the stairs to my bedroom.
I’m nearly at the top step when I see him. He’s standing on the landing, outside the drawing room, casting a long dark shadow over me. I freeze and drop my bag in shock. I can hear it bumping down the stairs, spilling its contents all over the stone steps and floor. ‘Beatrice?’ he says. His voice is almost unrecognisable. He sounds confused and even in the half-light I can see his face is deathly pale.
‘It’s me, Abi,’ I say and he frowns, appraising me in Beatrice’s dress. I make an effort to keep my voice light. ‘I thought you were away. With work.’ It’s only Ben, I think. He’s still the man who said he loved me, who sh
ared my bed. Surely he wouldn’t hurt me?
He stares at me, shaking his head, as if trying to dislodge an unpleasant thought or image from his mind.
‘Abi,’ he says, with a dismissive sniff. ‘Of course.’ He seems distracted, slightly confused.
‘Do you want me to leave?’ I say, hopefully, grabbing the banister, a glass petal from the fairy lights digging into the palm of my hand. I don’t even notice the pain.
To my dismay he shakes his head and rubs his hand through his sandy hair. ‘No, don’t leave. I’m sorry, I lied to you. I wanted you to come home and I knew you wouldn’t if you thought I was here.’
He’s right about that.
I turn to look behind me. At the door I’ve locked and bolted, at my bag, which has landed at the bottom of the stairs, at my mobile phone which has fallen out of the pocket, and for a split second I consider making a run for it. I tell myself I’m being ridiculous. Paul has unnerved me, that’s all. I’m sure Ben isn’t as bad as he’s made out. Maybe Paul’s jealous of Ben, felt in his shadow, I know how that can feel, after all. But then I think of all the horrible things Ben has done to me since I moved in. How he manipulated me, scared me, played with my already-fragile mind, and I know his actions are that of a twisted man. A fresh wave of revulsion washes over me.
But I have to play the game. ‘Maybe we should talk?’ I say, knowing there is nothing he could say that would excuse what he’s done, all the lies he’s told.
For a second he looks hopeful, switching to disbelieving. ‘You want to?’
‘Of course,’ I say. ‘Why don’t I meet you in the kitchen? I need to get a cardigan from my room, I’m freezing.’
The Grip Lit Collection Page 25
