by John Marrs
‘I don’t believe you.’
Ellie perched in front of the case with her hands on her hips defiantly, her eyes darting back and forth to take in the titles one by one, desperately searching for a familiar story to prove him wrong. One spine caught her attention – it was titled “Ellie & Tim.” She looked at Tim puzzled, and he beckoned her to take a closer look. She picked it up and read aloud.
‘”Ninety-five things I love about Ellie Stanford”.’
‘Come and sit down,’ Tim suggested as she carried the book over to the sofa where he sat.
‘What’s this?’ she asked, grinning.
‘Open it and have a look.’
Inside, on each colourful page was a hand-written reason why Tim loved her, along with a photograph of something relating to it.
‘”Number one - I love the way you clear your throat when you’re pretending not to cry at The Notebook and The Fault In Our Stars”,’ she read out. ‘That is so not true! ‘”Number two - I love the way the only shape you ever doodle is a DNA double helix”… where did you get this?’ she asked, pointing to a picture he’d scanned of a doodled page from one of her notebooks. ‘How long did this take you to make?’ she asked.
‘I was struggling to find ten things let alone ninety-five, to be honest,’ he joked. ‘Anyway, don’t let me interrupt.’
Ellie devoured each page, frequently laughing at the pictures Tim chose and wondering how he had noticed so many of her quirks, habits and foibles when others hadn’t. He really got her, she realised.
‘”And it’s for all of these reasons that I’d like to ask you...’” Ellie gasped when she turned to reach the final page. ‘”Will you marry me?”’
She drew her hands over her mouth and looked up at Tim. She hadn’t noticed he’d slipped his hand into his pocket and removed a mauve, velvet covered box and opened the lid. Inside, on a chiffon bed, sat an engagement ring with a small, central diamond.
‘I asked your dad’s permission on Christmas Eve and he said yes, but I draw the line at getting down on one knee,’ he smiled, ‘however, I’d love it if my Match would do me the honour of being my wife.’
Ellie threw her arms around Tim and sobbed into his shoulder.
‘Shall I take that as a yes?’ he asked.
‘Yes!’ she bawled and slipped the ring on her finger. ‘Yes, yes, yes!’
CHAPTER 66
AMANDA
Amanda sat in her car outside the café where she had met Richard’s former girlfriend Michelle and wound down the window in the hope the cold air might cool her down.
She’d not suffered a panic attack before but the sudden feelings of intense apprehension, the heart palpitations and dizziness certainly felt like the makings of one. So she tried to calm herself down by remembering her antenatal breathing exercises. And if ever she had wanted to take up smoking again, it was now.
‘Richard is still very much alive,’ Amanda spoke out loud, repeating Michelle’s words from their meeting earlier that day in the café.
‘Are you okay?’ Michelle had asked when she saw the colour drain from Amanda’s face. Amanda nodded but it was clear that she wasn’t.
‘What do you mean Richard is alive?’ she asked eventually. ‘He was hit by a car, wasn’t he? I went to his memorial.’
‘But the accident didn’t kill him,’ Michelle replied. ‘He’s in a private nursing home somewhere in Wellingborough. He’s got severe brain damage so without meaning to sound heartless, the poor boy’s as good as dead.’
‘Then why was there a memorial service for him?’
‘From what I can gather, when his mum and sister knew they weren’t going to get their perfect Richard back, they shipped him off to the home. They told his friends not to visit because it would be too upsetting for them to see him, and said that they’d have a memorial of hope service for him instead. Only when it came down to it, the word ‘hope’ never came into it.’
Amanda racked her brain thinking back over the Facebook messages left after Richard’s accident and to the speeches given at his memorial and it dawned on her that not once had it been mentioned that Richard had died. The only people to have used the word “death” and to let her believe he was no longer with them were Jenny and Emma.
‘I don’t understand, why would they hold a memorial for someone who isn’t dead?’
‘It didn’t make sense to his friends either but who’s going to question a grieving family? Besides, they weren’t allowed to go and see Rich so it was their way of coming together and thinking of him. It was like his family wanted to forget about him and find some poor cow to give them a baby as a replacement. It sure as hell wasn’t going to be me.’
Michelle regretted what she said when Amanda rose to her feet and her coat fell open to reveal her pregnant stomach. ‘Shit,’ Michelle muttered as Amanda hurried out of the café and into her car.
When she finally pulled herself together, she reached inside her handbag for her mobile phone and Googled “private nursing homes” and “Wellingborough”. There were five addresses and telephone numbers, but it was the third one she called that confirmed it did indeed have a patient by the name of Richard Taylor.
She typed the postcode in to the car’s sat nav, put her key in the ignition and set off to meet the man she’d been made for.
CHAPTER 67
CHRISTOPHER
“Psychopaths can’t fall in love in the same way that normal people can,” Christopher read aloud to his empty office, “but they can still fall in love.”
Too vain to wear reading glasses and having run out of disposable contact lenses, he inched his face closer to the computer screen to gain a better view of the text.
“Psychopaths would rather have brief, sexual liaisons as long as they’re balanced in their favour,” he continued. “These flings don’t often lead to anything else, because psychopaths see their sexual partner’s promiscuity as something negative, yet they’ll find a way of justifying their own. In their minds, they can cheat and sleep around, but if you do the same, they’ll take the moral high ground.”
Christopher nodded and couldn’t see the problem with that. He thought back to Holly, a girl he’d dated back in his early twenties. She’d had the audacity to take revenge on Christopher’s infidelity by doing the same herself and she couldn’t understand why Christopher had severed all ties with her after breaking her nose.
He took a swig from one of a dozen cans of Red Bull he’d purchased from a newsagent on his return from leaving a Polaroid of Number Twenty-Five on Number Twenty-Four’s chest. Then he became annoyed with himself for taking his eye off the ball and visiting a shop that might have used CCTV cameras.
“Should you become involved in a relationship with a psychopath, it has to be on an equal footing for it to work,” he continued to read. “They’re intense, passionate lovers but once they’ve wooed their way into your bedroom, the balance of power can shift dramatically in the psychopath’s favour. When they realise they can dominate you or if you’ve allowed them to demean you, it’s a safe bet they’ll lose interest in you. And some psychopaths revel in humiliating their partners by sharing them with their friends; they’re treated like their property or like whores and always on his terms.”
Dominique was like that, he recalled. She’d reluctantly attended a swinger’s club with him and he watched as, one by one, nine men screwed her in an evening. He’d begged her to do it, informing her it would turn him on and strengthen their relationship and as Dominique was so young and naïve, she’d believed him. Then afterwards in the car outside her house, he’d called her a filthy slag and ended it.
One by one, Christopher made his way though a mental Rolodex of women he could recollect having sexual relationships with and he’d treated almost all of them in the same demeaning manner. He’d marched through life dominating his affairs and manipulating his partners to carry out whatever new deviancy excited him. But the only person he had not degraded or abused in any way was Amy
.
Outside the bedroom, he had the slight upper hand because he was holding on to a secret she would never be privy to, but inside, they were equals. And it was his realisation of this that made him want to know more about how it’d happened. A web page entitled, “So you think you’re in love with a psychopath?” explained it all.
He scrolled down to read on. “If you’re happy to accept a psychopath’s double standards, your relationship is doomed to fail and turn toxic.” It continued. “If they can’t see you as their equal, then you’ll never be treated like one and once they get their way, you stand no chance of reigniting their interest. But if you can hold yourself back from falling for a psychopath’s manipulation and maintain your self-respect, there’s a chance a romantic relationship may work and endure.”
Christopher jiggled his feet up and down, unable to keep himself still as he began to understand more about what made him tick.
“Because Match Your DNA studies only date back a decade, conclusions have yet to be made to determine the scale to which a psychopath can feel love for his Match. But early indicators reveal the attraction could mean a psychopath is just as able to love another person as deeply as a non-psychopath.”
Christopher let out a long breath and sat back in his seat, rubbing his eyes. So he was capable of falling in love, he thought. It was proof that buried amongst all his urges, his maliciousness and his cruelty, there was some normality to him.
CHAPTER 68
BETHANY
It was as if Kevin had saved up every last piece of verve and strength for his wedding, because fifteen days after saying “I do”, Bethany buried her husband.
His decline had been noticeable by all, although none of the family spoke of it. Instead, they went about their day-to-day duties of running the farm and helping to make their brother and son as comfortable as possible. Bethany joined them in aiding him with his multiple medications and the town doctor appeared twice daily to administer extra pain relief when required.
And when Kevin’s matchstick thin legs finally gave up rendering him completely immobile, she kept him company in his bedroom whether he was conscious or not, stroking his arm and being occasionally rewarded with a gentle hand squeeze in return. She’d talk to him about nothing in particular because she had read that a person’s hearing can be one of the last things to go, and she didn’t want him to leave the world with a melancholic silence for a soundtrack.
Bethany felt helpless for much of the time, watching her best friend slowly slip away. In his final days and with the use of his body almost at an end, she’d dab the inside of his mouth with a wet cotton swab to put some moisture back into his tongue or apply Vaseline to his chapped lips. She’d assist her father-in-law Dan to change his soiled bed sheets or bathe him with wet wipes. Then she contemplated that if the unthinkable ever happened to her, who would love her in the same unselfish way Kevin had? Her family aside, there’d be no-one, she realised.
It was Kevin’s death rattle that scared Bethany the most; an awful crackling, cackling noise his throat and chest made as his lungs brought to the surface a foul smelling liquid that made his breath reek. And in his remaining hours, the whole family sat around his bed, waiting for his chest to fall one last time.
When that moment came, Bethany thought she felt Kevin’s soul quietly leave his body and move on to its next journey. At the same time, the morning sun outside was beginning to rise. It would be the first sunrise in twenty-five years without Kevin beneath it.
Susan and Dan held on to each other, quietly mourning the loss of their son and without thinking, Bethany instinctively reached out to comfort Mark. To her surprise, he reciprocated, wrapping his strong arms around her. In that moment, she could feel everything that he felt; she absorbed his months of pent-up frustration at his brother’s illness and felt his body and mind surrender to grief. She understood his longing for her and his chagrin at being unable to act upon it, and she knew he was hanging on to her with all his might, scared to let go of a second person he loved, so soon after the first.
The funeral was conducted by the same reverend who had married Bethany and Kevin. But instead of cramming themselves into his tiny, occasional church, the ceremony took place on the farm, as per Kevin’s wishes. Mark and his father had dug the grave themselves under the shade of trees about a mile north of the house and next to the headstones of his grandparents.
The reverend made it clear to Kevin’s mourners from the offset that they were there to celebrate Kevin’s life and not to dwell upon how short it was. He spoke of what a wonderful young man Kevin had been and how many lives he’d touched, but when Bethany heard her name mentioned and how much Kevin had adored her, she felt like an impostor. She had no regrets about being Kevin’s friend, thinking that she loved him or later marrying him, but she could never have loved him in the same way he had loved her. She wished she had been a better wife to him.
As her husband’s coffin slowly descended into the earth, only now could Bethany admit to herself that she had fallen hook, line and sinker for his brother. She hadn’t merely transferred her affection from Kevin to Mark because she feared loving a man who was terminally ill; everything she felt for him was genuine. Even in the worst of circumstances, when they were side by side at his brother’s grave, his presence made her stomach flutter. She was aware it was completely inappropriate but by the way he couldn’t bear to make eye contact with her, she knew he shared what she was feeling.
However, with the exception of the moments immediately after Kevin’s passing when Mark unravelled, he’d since held a tight grip on his emotions and prevented himself from unspooling any further. Communication between them returned to limited, polite smiles and acknowledgements.
‘It’s good to have them near when they’re so far away,’ explained Susan as the mourners began to dissipate and head towards the farm where the wake was to be held. ‘Kevin always loved spending time with his grandparents so I’m glad they’re together, looking out for each other. Like the reverend said, let’s go and celebrate Kevin’s life, not mourn it.’
Bethany smiled and held Susan’s hand as they walked the rest of the way back to the house. But before she joined the others in the lounge and dining room for drinks and food, Bethany made her way through the house and into Kevin’s bedroom. There, she lay on his bed and let herself cry for a friend who’d been so special to her.
She felt eternally grateful for having got to know him and for him asking her to be his wife, but even more so that she would never have to break Kevin’s heart and tell him that he wasn’t the one.
CHAPTER 69
NICK
The final week of his notice period at the advertising agency moved cripplingly slowly for Nick.
He sat at his office desk looking over a spreadsheet and a checklist on his computer monitor, reminding himself of what he had left to do both in and out of work before he could take his leap of faith. Often he became distracted, Googling images of the new town where he’d be living and wondering how he’d occupy his time.
With the exception of his remaining workdays, everything in Nick’s world felt like it was travelling at the speed of light and he buzzed with the thrill of trying to keep up with it all. But the most difficult and gut-wrenching parts of it had been dealt with and not for a moment did he doubt his decisions had been the right ones.
A day after he’d called off his wedding and finalised his separation from Sally, Nick had consummated his relationship with Alex. They’d known each other’s personality almost as well as they’d known their own, but exploring each other’s physicality had been a completely different ball game – quite literally. There were awkward fumbles, new tastes and strange manoeuvres to discover but there’d also been incredible sensations to enjoy, while others he wasn’t so sure about. And he realised that just because they were of the same sex, it didn’t necessarily mean they knew how another man’s body worked. However, they both agreed it was something that they could and would
work on.
It was Nick who had tentatively suggested that he join Alex on his return home to New Zealand. Of course Alex was delighted by the proposal, although he confessed to being daunted about introducing his family to a man called Nick when they were expecting to welcome a girl called Mary into their lives. But he would cross that bridge when he came to it.
Meanwhile Nick’s boss agreed to him taking a six-month sabbatical from work. Nick hadn’t explained the real purpose behind it, only that since his break-up from Sally, he needed to go travelling and “find himself”. But with Alex, he knew exactly where he was.
Nick had broken the news of his split from Sally to his disappointed family in person, but chose not to reveal it was because he’d been Matched with a man. Once the half-year trial period he and Alex had set themselves passed, then he would tell them the truth.
The most onerous part of Nick’s plan was breaking the news to Sally that he and Alex were planning a future together. She tried to disguise her pained expression when he admitted they were moving to New Zealand but he could see through it and there was little he could do to comfort her.
He was grateful that she hadn’t sought to make him feel guilty for his decision; it was as if she knew how it felt to be Matched with someone and was aware that sometimes you have no choice but to follow the path your heart leads you down.
They took a pragmatic approach to dividing up the life they’d shared together. Their savings were split fifty-fifty and Nick offered her the flat to remain in until she was ready for them to sell it. All he required were his clothes, books and the portfolio of his work - everything else could be replaced. Then for six weeks, contact between them ceased as Nick temporarily settled into Alex’s flat.
As Nick filled his day at work with his own travel preparations, he checked the box on his screen next to the words “Temporary Work Visa” and then “Passport”. Something made him take a second glance inside the little burgundy book and at the expiration date, which would occur three months from now. A swift online search discovered he could get it renewed quicker in person than by post and it would be much less hassle doing it in Britain than abroad. So he grabbed his coat, told Rhian on the reception desk that he was heading out for a long boozy lunch with a client and caught a train from New Street Station to London instead. Within two hours he had arrived. He was earlier than his scheduled appointment time at the IPS Passport Customer Service Centre, so he passed the time in Starbucks with a hot chocolate.
