by Sofia Grey
As her lovely face smiled up at me from a head and shoulders photo, the breath caught in my chest. I hastened to behave normally, my mind racing ahead, my pulse trying to catch up. Suki. Married to the man Anita had warned me about, who may be violent. Who had deliberately faked photos of Anita kissing Nathan, and sent them to his supposed friend. I suppressed a shudder. This guy sounded like a right piece of work.
He wanted me to seduce Suki, and then walk away from her. The girl I’d been dreaming about for years. It seemed like fate giving me a nudge.
6.2 Suki
If I hadn’t known Gabe so well, I’d wonder if he was taking drugs. From icily remote to warm and friendly, his moods had polarized. I’d been twitchy and nervous when we came home from the Rose Garden, but he was absolutely normal and chatted about some sponsorship deal he was chasing.
“You wouldn’t mind, would you?”
“Huh?” I’d been staring blankly into the fridge, trying to pretend everything was normal, that this was just another day, when Gabe stepped up behind me.
“You weren’t listening.” It was a mild accusation, but from the way his hands were roaming across my bum, he didn’t sound annoyed.
“Sorry,” I spoke automatically. “What do you fancy eating tonight?”
“Hmmm.” One hand now slid up my thigh, and skimmed underneath my skirt, inching towards my knickers. “Not hungry yet.”
What kind of game was he playing with me? I struggled to remember what he’d said before he distracted me with his wandering hands. “You said I wouldn’t mind what?”
“If I fly out to Paris tomorrow for a couple of days. I’m the face of Chanel’s new aftershave. It stands to reason they want the ad to be shot in Paris.” He nuzzled the back of my neck. It sent tingles down my body and I squirmed in his arms. “I’ll be back this weekend, and then off to Belgium next week.” His teeth grazed the edge of my throat and I leaned back against his chest. I’d wanted to rekindle my love life, to make my husband connect with me again, so why didn’t I feel happier?
I snuck a look at my watch. I had a session booked with Babs in half an hour and I couldn’t tell Gabe about that. Meanwhile, he had only one thing on his mind and I felt flattered by the attention. We’d gone from a complete drought—practically the Sahara Desert—to sex on a daily basis. Minutes later, my face was shoved into the beanbag again with Gabe fucking me from behind, my skirt pushed up to my hips. No finesse, no foreplay… it didn’t hurt, but it certainly wasn’t exciting. I made all the right noises, and he seemed happy enough. Buried deep inside me, with me pinned to the beanbag beneath him, I felt his teeth at my neck again. My mind wandered. Perhaps he was turning into a vampire?
“Ouch!” I yelped as I felt him biting me, hard. “What d’you think you’re doing?” He released me with his mouth, grunted as he came, and then slumped forwards onto me, pressing me even further into the beany depths.
“It’s only a love bite, Suzu. I’ve never given you one before.” Helpless, I had to wait until he moved before I could shift, my hand automatically going to the side of my neck. I winced when I felt the tender, broken skin.
Gabe dropped to the floor while he refastened his jeans. “Did you never get a hickey from the boys at school?”
“No, I didn’t.” I felt irrationally annoyed, and reached for some tissues to clean myself before I rearranged my clothes. As I tugged my skirt back into place, I walked over to the bar mirror on the wall, and examined my neck. “Bloody hell, Gabe, it’s a mess. I have to go on air tomorrow. The Producer will have a fit.”
“Just wear a high-necked jumper.” He gave me his lazy, sexy grin and looked very satisfied with himself. Standing now, he patted the sofa. “Come and sit down, Suki. Why don’t we watch a movie this evening.”
I eyed his neat rack of DVDs. I had no doubt what kind of film he meant. “Let’s get some food first, and then I need to make some calls, and sort out a few last minute things for the show.”
His eyes glittered. I felt afraid without being able to say why.
“Come here first.” He opened his arms to me and, with some reluctance, I stepped into his embrace, pulled tight against his chest. “Are you okay, Suzu? I worry about you sometimes.”
One strong hand curved around my nape, guiding my head to rest against his collarbone. “You’ve been so distracted recently. Half the time it’s as though you’re shuffling round on autopilot. I keep wanting to knock on your head and ask if you’re even in there.” He gave a short, embarrassed laugh.
I didn’t know what to say. Apart from when we made love, Gabe seemed to ration his physical affections with me and I realised with a sudden flash of insight why I’d felt so drawn to Joe. Being held by him with no ulterior motive felt so natural, something I’d craved without even knowing it. I took advantage of Gabe and snuggled closer, enjoying the feel of his hand on my hair. All too soon he eased away from me.
“Go and make your calls. I’ll fix us some supper.”
Settling into my office chair, a fresh mug of coffee at my side—brewed by Gabe—I felt comforted by his thoughtfulness. So we had our ups and downs—what married couple didn’t? And sometimes he could be overbearing, maybe a little controlling, but underneath all that, he loved me. He couldn’t rise to the top of his sport if he had a weak character. I’d been drawn to his strength and confidence, and I could hardly complain about them now. Feeling almost relaxed, I logged into our chatroom and waited for Babs.
She usually followed me a few minutes later and I blew across the top of my coffee as I waited. It was too hot at the moment. Gabe was still experimenting with the new coffee machine he’d recently bought. Still no sign of Babs. I flicked through my Ideas folder, sipped the coffee and pulled a face. Too bitter. He needed to use fewer coffee grounds next time. I was surprised at his purchase. He’d instigated a caffeine ban a few months ago. Maybe he’d relented?
And where was Babs? She was almost ten minutes late. I took a slurp of coffee, enjoying the caffeine jolt, and then logged into my Hotmail account. I’d just check that she hadn’t cancelled.
There was an email from her, sent an hour earlier.
Hi. I waited but you didn’t join me. I’m assuming you’ve been delayed. Mail me when you want to reschedule. Babs.
Taking another sip of the coffee, I stared, puzzled, at the message. I checked my watch. This was the time we’d arranged. I sent her an email, wondering if she’d be online now.
Hi Babs. We must have our wires crossed. I’ve just been waiting for you. We arranged the session for 7:00 p.m. today.
To my relief, she replied instantly.
Hi. Had you forgotten? You mailed me asking to bring it forward to 6:00 p.m.. I’m with another client right now, but we can talk tomorrow afternoon if that’s any good for you? Babs
What? I hadn’t mailed her. I clicked on the Sent Mail folder to double-check my original appointment and stared in disbelief at the most recent email there. To Babs. Sent this morning. My hands shook as I clicked to open it, the coffee spilling in hot drips across my fingers.
Hi, Babs. Sorry, but can we bring it forward to 6:00 p.m. instead? Thanks.
When I looked back at my Inbox, there was her reply, confirming the time change. I just hadn’t noticed it buried in a mass of other emails. I looked back at the email I’d sent, and checked the time stamp. Half an hour after my first request for an appointment. My head spun. I leaned back in the chair, my heart beginning to pound, and the noise echoing in my head. I took another sip of coffee, my mouth dry.
I hadn’t sent that email. I’d swear to it. But there was the evidence staring back at me.
6.3 Gabe
Having access to Suki’s email was a godsend, and so was access to Martha’s bathroom cabinet. I had no idea what a gem I’d find in there when I took her home. Diazepam. Lots of little white tranquilizers in a bottle. She’d never miss a few.
I left Suki for half an hour in her office, and then, judging that she’d be feeling a little st
ressed by now, called her from the bottom of the stairs to ask if she’d like a drink.
Sure enough, she looked pale and anxious when she came down moments later. Her eyes were wide, and her hands played nervously with her hair. She wore an artificial smile.
“Glass of wine?” I held up the bottle of Merlot I’d just opened and she nodded, clearing her throat before speaking. Yes, she was spooked.
“Please.” Her hand trembled when she reached out to take it, and she misjudged the distance by a fraction. “Shit!” The glass slipped through her fingers, caught on her knuckles and splashed the contents down her front.
“Hell.” I made a grab, catching it before it could shatter on the tiled kitchen floor. Glancing back at her, standing frozen, I raised my eyebrows in a silent question.
“Sorry.” It came out as a whisper. She gazed at her skirt. Cream linen with a bloodlike stain blossoming across it.
“Looks like you should be an extra in a horror movie.” I had to find a cloth and clean the spill from the floor. Suki seemed incapable. “Hey, Suki.” She stayed immobile. “It’s only a glass of wine, there’s no harm done.”
Standing again, I deposited the empty glass on the table and reached to her, to wrap my arm around her shoulders. “Suki,” I murmured. “What’s the matter, darling? You don’t look well at all.”
She let me guide her into a chair, and then covered her face with her hands. “I feel weird,” she admitted. “Sort of wobbly.”
I crouched beside her, and stroked the errant strands of hair back from her face. “You been drinking already?”
Puzzled eyes met mine. “No, why do you ask that?”
I gestured towards a dirty wine glass next to the sink. It bore a lipstick mark on the rim. “Thought you’d started early. That’s why I opened a fresh bottle.”
When I glanced back at her, it was to see her staring at the empty glass, her face glazing over. “I didn’t,” she whispered, almost to herself. “I couldn’t have.”
“Hey, like I said, don’t worry about it. Maybe you’d be better in bed.” I slipped one arm around her middle and pulled her up, she hesitated a moment and blinked as she looked at her watch.
“Gabe, it’s 7:30. A bit early for bed, don’t you think?” She swayed as she stood there. I felt a momentary pang of guilt.
“Come on, I’ll help you upstairs. It’s okay if you don’t feel well. It’s not like you to drink so early.”
“I didn’t.”
“Well, I don’t wear lipstick.” We lumbered out of the kitchen, Suki slumped against me. “Maybe you forgot.”
I felt a tremor run down her spine. “What do you mean?”
“Huh? You’ve been getting awfully forgetful the past few weeks. You know.” I guided her up the stairs, and spoke comfortingly into her ear. “Maybe you should cut back at work, just a little. I mean it’s okay letting things slip at home, but if you did it in front of the cameras…” Was I laying it on a bit thick? Maybe not; she seemed to concentrate on my words.
She stumbled on the landing so I scooped her up in my arms and carried her to our bed, laying her on the duvet as gently as I could. “How do you feel now? Are you still a bit wobbly?”
I watched her shrug, tears filling her eyes before she ducked her head away from me. “Hey, Suki, don’t cry, baby.” She came into my arms as I sat beside her, her whole body shuddering as she cried against my shirt. “Baby, don’t cry. Whatever’s the matter, we’ll fix it, okay?” She sobbed a little more and I held her close, rocking her slightly. “I’m here for you, Suzu, tell me what’s wrong, baby. Let me help you.”
It was an age before she spoke. “I just feel ill. Maybe I’ve got the flu.”
I kept my voice gentle. “Would you like me to cancel my photo-shoot tomorrow? I can stay home and look after you.”
Her head shook. “No, I’ll be fine. And there’s a show tomorrow, I can’t be sick and miss it.”
“If you’ve got the flu, you won’t be going anywhere. Let’s get you into bed and I’ll go and fetch you some hot milk.”
She let me help her undress, and slipped beneath the duvet, still with that shocked look on her face. When I fetched her milk, she was sitting there, staring blankly at the wall, her eyes slightly unfocused.
After she’d sipped the drink, she leaned against me as I sprawled on the bed beside her. “How do you feel now, Suzu?”
“Sleepy.” Her voice was slurred.
My fingers soothed against her neck, and stroked her hair. I felt her relax against me. “It’s time you told me about Antony.”
She sighed, a little gust of breath against my throat. “I never meant to. It was all my fault.”
I kept up the stroking, soft, gentle movements, my voice almost a whisper. “What did you do?”
“I was playing hide and seek. And I got stuck in the broom cupboard.”
“Were you scared?”
She gulped. “Petrified. When the door wouldn’t open, I kicked it and screamed. I screamed and screamed for Mummy. She didn’t even want to play, she said she was tired. She was always tired.”
“What about Antony?”
“He was asleep in his cot.”
A-ha. Antony was her brother. I moved one hand to rub gentle circles across her back. She sighed and pressed her face against me.
“What did Mummy do? Did she find you?”
“I heard her screaming, too. And then she stopped.” I hesitated, not really sure I wanted to know after all, but Suki carried on anyway, a long moment later. “She never really started again after that.”
I puzzled over her words. Had Suki fallen asleep? Her breathing was slow and regular. I eased her back against the pillow, and pressed my hand to her cheek, feeling strangely tender. Martha Hubbard had always been vacant, as though her body functioned while her mind sailed elsewhere. We had so little to do with her that I’d never considered why she behaved as she did. There was more to this story, though. I’d ask my Mum. She might know.
Suki lay pale and calm, but her eyelashes fluttered open when I touched my lips to her forehead. “It’s all my fault.”
6.4 Josh
Jon sounded pissed off when I phoned him. “If I’m honest, I didn’t expect you to find out much.”
I sighed. “I’m still looking at options. I might find something.” I was deliberately vague.
“Yeah, and I won’t hold my breath waiting for you. I hate to make accusations without proof, but you’re still my number one suspect.”
There was little more I could add. Abandoning the phone, I went in search of a beer only to find the fridge empty. Great. No food either, and since Danielle was now off limits, no company. Before I could slide into a vat of self-loathing, I rang out for curry with a side order of a six-pack of beer. After all, it didn’t matter if I had garlic breath in the morning. There was nobody here to notice.
An hour later and I found myself staring blankly at my laptop screen, the Google search bar twinkling back at me. I fiddled with my Talisman, sliding it up and down my wrist while my brain chugged in slow circles. Deep in thought, my eyes were drawn to the obscure symbols etched into the leather. They’d faded over the years, but the name inscribed was still clear: Raphael in Ancient Hebrew. My Talisman was my most prized possession, and the only thing that remained of my mother.
I didn’t ‘do’ indecision. It was rare for me to be unable to make up my mind, but this business with the photos of Anita… I struggled.
If I said nothing, didn’t offer any suggestions, they would continue to assume, correctly, I was responsible. I would continue to deny it. There was a distinct risk of Suki being told. After all, they were close friends.
Yet, if I pointed the finger at Gabriel Bridgewater, well, that opened another can of worms entirely. I’d need proof. If I blagged my way past that, practised my Bullshit Degree some more, they might believe me. Yeah, good plan. It would come bouncing right back at me.
The truth was the last option to consider and I rejecte
d it immediately. To admit I’d been paid to photograph them? I wasn’t going there.
I rubbed my nose thoughtfully, and turned over an unpalatable realisation. The problem wasn’t so much about what I did and what people thought of me. It had everything to do with how Suki might feel about me. I didn’t want her to know that she was my next target.
The truth squirmed in a little used corner of my brain. I don’t want to hurt her. I wanted her to like me, not just as a flirt, but to like the real me. I scoffed at myself, gulping down the bottle of lager and reaching for a third. Even I didn’t know who the real me was any more.
I reached for the document wallet again and rifled through the contents one more time. I could probably answer a pop quiz now, specialist subject Suki Bridgewater.
Age—28
Birthday—1 September
Length of marriage—ten years
She was a virgin when she met and married Gabriel
She wears size 8—10, but struggles with her weight
She likes rock music, especially Event Horizon, the Killers and U2
She’s a member of Ladies Zone gym in Wilmslow
She loves reading, vampire novels mostly, but also glossy magazines
It didn’t contain any of the information I was hungry for. Was she still in love with her husband? Did he ever hurt her? Who, or what, had she been so frightened of?
My direction had been to proceed slowly, but I couldn’t wait. Even as I contemplated that my intervention could spell the end of her marriage, one of the happiest ever, according to Anita, I knew I had to see her. I could never consider a relationship with a woman who could not be 100% faithful and, with the possible exception of Anita, that woman did not exist.
