They went via Arthur’s, and she dashed out and posted the note in the box at the end of his drive. The house was dark. Chewing her lip, she hesitated with her thumb hovering over the buzzer, fuck it, she buzzed twice. No lights came on and glancing back at the taxi, her heart clenched, and got back in. She looked back and left Arthur behind.
He could find her if he wanted to, but she had a feeling she’d never see him again.
Fifteen
OF ALL THE FORKS IN THE ROAD
Arthur woke up early with a plan and didn’t want to waste a moment. He was drinking his coffee when the gate buzzer went.
“Yes?” he said, pressing the intercom.
“It’s Vicky.” Her voice was small through the speaker.
“What do you want?”
“I wanted to see if you were all right.”
Arthur rested his head on the wall before buzzing the gate open. He put the alarm on and locked the door behind him.
“I’m going out.” He spoke sharply before she was fully out of her car.
“I’m sorry, about last night.” She chewed her lip, glanced at him and then away.
“Don’t come back here. Don’t ask me how I am. Let us go.” Arthur let the urge to ask what she wanted pass.
She stared at him, defeated. With a nod, she got in her car and reversed off the drive.
Normally, he only locked the gate at night, but with Maddie about, he locked it again.
His heart was in his mouth for the drive over, and he rang the bell to no answer before letting himself in and called out to Rebecca.
There was no furniture left in the living room, there was barely anything left anywhere, it must be horrible to live in the house like that.
It was quiet and empty and absent of the love that had been there. Before, he’d tensed and pushed it away, but he must have looked like an arse. He huffed, he didn’t look like it, he was an arse. He rang her phone, but it was off. Upstairs, he found her room tidy and empty. All her things were gone. He froze for a moment, and all the blood fell out of his head.
Arthur called her phone again, still off.
He realised he didn’t have her email, why didn’t he have her email? She didn’t even have any social media so no one found her, but she had an email, right?
She was gone. Left him. He’d been such a shit, cutting her out of his life because he was too angry and shocked, and pushed back at her sensible reasoning.
What had he said to her yesterday? God, nothing, he’d barely said a word. He made a frustrated noise, crawled onto her bed, inhaled her smell and closed his eyes, bundling the duvet to him, and lay there.
A few hours later, uncertain of where to start, he dragged himself up and out at a loss.
Once home, he got in touch with people she knew. Joe hadn’t heard anything, neither had Carla, or Mandy at the café.
He went everywhere, every place he thought she might have gone. He asked at hotels, the shops she liked, employment agencies, taxi companies, and a dozen other places.
Arthur even rang Darby in the office and asked if she had Rebecca’s email, which she didn’t, there hadn’t been one in her file. He began to panic, the knowledge that she had really gone sank in.
On his last day at work, when they gave him a crystal bowl, and a speech, he felt nothing. Empty. Rebecca played in his thoughts constantly. Grief for his mother and the loss of the woman he loved because of his own selfishness broke him.
Two weeks later, trying to keep it together, he walked into the police station.
He tried to report her as missing, he begged for them at least to find out where she was. She was at risk from Mark Crest, so surely, they should make sure she was well and safe?
The sergeant said he’d investigate it. Arthur managed to wait a week before ringing. There was nothing to report, and Arthur wasn’t next of kin. He didn’t know what to do. Panic consumed him, and he had to find her, just to know she was safe. Had to.
It was a long autumn and winter for Arthur, and as spring stretched out, despair took his hope, leaving a bitter man in its wake.
Rebecca was a fraud and always would be. It was her birthday, twenty-eight, and she hurtled towards thirty, still a virgin, and still in love with a man that thought she was a criminal. She watched her friends, carefree and a little younger than her. She wasn’t really part of their group and hung on the outside.
It had been months, and Arthur was long past. She should let it go but couldn’t. There had to be a point when she’d move on, and yet everything remained fresh. Grief and loss. Regret. That was the worst. Every way she might have played it differently Rebecca explored on a loop. At night, Arthur would slip into bed, arms enfolding her, and he’d whisper how much he loved her. It was fruitless now.
The shame of him thinking lowly of her ate a little bit every day and added to the shame she still carried somewhere in the recess of who she was. To the people around her, she was a fun, outgoing woman if a bit staid in her late twenties. Nothing else. They didn’t know her past, only what vague truths she managed to tell.
Her flatmate Stella was tall, voluptuous, dark tan complexion and hair, who took Rebecca under her wing. She’d watch Stella’s adept magnetism with men, and though she cajoled and pushed her, Rebecca didn’t bite but laughed.
She still missed Alice and Arthur, whenever she thought of him her cheeks burnt in humiliation. It didn’t matter anymore that she hadn’t done anything wrong.
Rebecca sipped her fruity cocktail. Cressie, a sweet girl, grabbed Rebecca by the hand and pulled her onto the dancefloor.
Another of their group, Pete, a gorgeous blond crumpet of a man, who knew it, and was a notorious fanny rat, was already there. Not a bad guy, just not Arthur.
He sidled up to Rebecca. Cressie started laughing, and Rebecca rolled her eyes at him.
She had a strange relationship with Pete. He appeared to be one thing, and most people took him at face value, and to be fair, it was a beautiful face to take, but Rebecca never had. Something behind his moves and flirting was familiar to her. Too much pain hidden under a perfect smile.
A few months back, they had gone to a large outdoor party. Bonfires ran along the scrubby waste, bands played little stages, food, bars, and a rave in a tent. It was an early festival. They all wore wellies and coats, but she danced in the sunrise, with Pete right next to her. It had been one of the few times after leaving Arthur that she had genuinely been happy.
Pete put his arm around her, he’d kissed her neck, and for a second, she was tempted. She’d never see Arthur again, and Pete would be good to her, even if it were only one night, it would be done with.
Pete stiffened up when he realised she was crying.
“Becky.” He’d not called her that before, and he whispered it so gently in her ear. The name still made her ill, and she recoiled from him.
“Don’t call me that.”
He shifted his feet. The grass underfoot was mulchy, and the wind cold. He watched her shiver, snuggling into her coat.
“I’m sorry. Are you all right?”
“I…” Her eyes were imploring and sad, there was a strange moment that passed between them as the wind whipped their hair.
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“I know nothing about you, none of us does. That face tells me something happened to you, and that nickname revolts you. Experience would tell me a response like that means someone used to call you that, and hearing it triggers something unpleasant. I’m not just a pretty face, I notice things.”
“Something like that.” The wind changed, and stung her eyes, bringing tears.
“Do you need help?” It was the first time he’d looked vulnerable and honest with her.
She gazed up at him again, eyes screwed up against the morning light. He understood everything, she didn’t know how or why, but he knew; he’d lived it.
“Wanna help an abused woman get over he
r frigidity?” She laughed when she said it, amazed at herself letting that tension go, and the cool wind of dawn took it from her.
“I get it. Some people go one way and can’t. Some go another and do nothing but fuck. We went different ways. You know that you don’t have to get over it, it doesn’t need to be a thing you fix.”
“I want to because I want that part of myself. For me.” She reached out her hand, and he hesitated before taking it.
“Nothing will happen between us, that’s not what you need from me. You’re hiding, I can see that, but our friends know something is up with you, and they want to know. They feel entitled to that stuff, they’re not bad people, but, you know.”
“Do you like them?”
“Sometimes. They’re convenient.”
“How?”
“Having a large group of friends serves a purpose; you can get lost in them.”
Rebecca tucked her hair behind her ear, thinking.
“But you have to handle them. You can flirt, dance, I’ve seen you in moments, and so do that, a lot. Make up a story but give them something. If you ever need to be honest with someone, talk to me. I promise it’ll be between us.”
She put her arms around him and kissed his cheek.
Ever since then, they’d start a night out flirting and dancing together, and it would be full on. She’d felt his erection press against her more than once, and though they’d never sleep together, he gave her something precious. She was desirable; he would sleep with her if she really wanted him to, but they both knew it wasn’t right. Something held her back.
They were on the dancefloor, and Pete made her feel desired without threat as usual, but it was off, she felt like she was watched. Occasionally paranoia got the better of her. She held onto Pete a bit more firmly, and the question in his eyes made her shake her head.
She’d told him everything in the end. They were sitting up in the flat, everyone had passed out, but they stayed up talking one night, and she unburdened herself, about all of it, even Arthur. They sat on her bed for hours, sitting side by side as she spoke steadily. Everyone assumed they were occasional fuck buddies after that, and neither of them denied it.
He was quiet after she told him, but he pulled her in for a hug. She didn’t push Pete for his tale of woe, and he seemed grateful for it. He never told her.
Her head arched back as Pete held onto her hips. She stretched her hands above her head and turned in a little circle, undulating as the music pulsed through her body. Pete whispered in her ear.
“You know one day we’re going to do it. You’ll decide, fuck it, I know I turn him on, and I’ll put him out of his misery.”
She laughed, and he winked at her.
They danced a little more, but Pete’s smile fell away, and he froze as a creeping unease went up Rebecca’s back.
Arthur wondered what he was doing. Two of his friends, John and Rob, were both on the hunt, as they put it. John being newly divorced, wanted to have some fun.
Fun. Arthur huffed as he sipped his drink. He didn’t blame them for dragging him out, he’d been a misery for months, and they were worried. He hadn’t seen much of them for a few years, they were busy men, managing full on lives, but recently they had tried to be better friends. They said he needed to move on and get over it. How can he get over it? She might be dead, a prisoner to that fucking monster, or be struggling to make ends meet in some hovel again.
Months of searching became him circling, chasing hope that never came. He knew he had to change by February, he drank too much, didn’t eat, and careless with himself because he didn’t feel anything anymore.
He picked at the beer mat trying not to scan every face looking for her. It was getting out of control again, after managing a few months where she didn’t consume him, but it had edged forward, and he let the pain and sting wash over him. The new normal. Contemplating looking for her again, he doubted she’d remained in Chadford. He could use a private detective, that might work, all he wanted to know if she was okay. It was all that mattered to him. He made himself relax, heart constricting. Arthur turned his glass and took a drink. He needed a hobby, or to get out of Chadford; he had too much time on his hands.
He couldn’t help it; he looked up and started his slow perusal of the room.
The club was far too young for them, everyone looked underage, and he was probably too old. The bar was long against the side of the main entrance, with tall tables dotted in a semicircle, overlooking the dancefloor a few steps down. Beyond that were large sit-down areas.
He leant on the table, looking down at the dancers beyond. His eye caught a large group of people, trendy cool twentysomethings raucously laughing. The dance music grated on him.
His eyes fell to the dancefloor, and his heart dipped. A woman, so like Rebecca, was dancing with a man. She wore tight shiny black skinny jeans, high strappy heels, and her top was little more than a bra, with crisscrossed straps all the way around her middle. He swallowed, knowing it was her, but not quite registering it. She tilted backwards, and as the man said something to her, she laughed. They looked very intimate.
Her head turned a little; it was her. He didn’t feel his body, and unable to process the flood of thoughts and emotions running through him; everything he hadn’t felt for months poured down on him in a single moment of recognition.
“Art? Mate, you all right?”
He looked at John, mouth flapping, and back to the floor. She was still there, and he hadn’t imagined it.
He’d been fighting thoughts of the worst happening to her, to the woman he loved, and there she was, having a grand old time. It was her birthday tomorrow, he hadn’t forgotten. He ground his teeth, and his jaw ticked. He was furious, relieved, devastated. Eight months, eight months of panic and fear of the worst, of her absence consuming him, and she was just dancing.
He left his drink, and his friends watched as he moved through the crowd to the dancefloor, the music seemed twice the volume as he neared her. The man dancing with Rebecca raised his brow, and then his eyes darted back to her.
She stilled as though she sensed him, turned slowly, eyes wide, and held her breath.
The pair stared at each other, and everything fell away. Arthur didn’t hear the music, he didn’t see anyone, only her, and the dismay on her face.
Sixteen
A BROAD WAY
Arthur felt vicious as they stared at each other. As his gaze absorbed her, angry as he was, all he thought was how beautiful she was and how much he wanted her, even after leaving him.
She stumbled, and he caught her elbows roughly. Her arms instinctively crossed her body. He pulled her closer as her mouth hung open.
Both silent, she sagged a little in his hold, and he held her until she was pressed against him.
Her friends watched intently as the beat pulsed around them. He didn’t care about any of it.
As he leant close to her face, he sneered and spoke. “I think you and I should have a little chat.”
She swallowed and almost collapsed as her knees gave and eyes flickered.
Tears welled up as what colour there was drained from her face, but he only held her tighter, urging her with him, and her feet tottered along as she tried to keep up.
They went past the large, quiet group of people, and out the doors nearby into the patio. Pushing through the crowds of people, and the smoke in the air, across to the back where it was a little quieter and a few people milled about. He pressed her against the wall that framed her in ivy.
She was crying; her tears silently fell with her head bowed as if in shame.
“You’re alive then?”
She cocked her head and screwed her face up.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through?” His raised voice turned heads. She cowered. He shook her a little. “I thought you were dead, or that fucker had got his hands on you. I have looked everywhere for you, and you’re fucking well pissing abou
t?”
He finally let her go and stepped away, pushing down pent-up emotion. She slid down the wall and curled in on herself, sobbing. He closed his eyes, holding back his own emotion. His head pounded, and heart raced.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He squatted down and made his voice gentle. “Please, come on.”
He helped her up, and they perched on a low wall next to them a little further along.
Arthur took a few deep breaths before he spoke. “Why did you run?”
She got herself under control, wiping her cheeks with her fingers, hitching her breath. “You asked me to leave, you fucking arsehole.”
Her anger surprised him.
“What the hell did you expect me to do? After that little stunt, I had no choice.”
He frowned and leant back in surprise. “What little stunt?”
“Excuse me?”
He narrowed his eyes and had a horrible feeling about the argument with Maddie. Rebecca had vanished that night.
When his anger deflated, he sighed. “What happened?”
Her face went blank at his words. “Like you don’t know.”
“I don’t.”
Her mouth hung open. “You… sent the police to the house, and they searched my things looking for a pair of earrings. Your mum’s diamonds or something. Maddie came, relaying your accusation. I had to stand there while the policeman dug through my underwear.”
He felt like he’d been punched.
“I can only assume you never found them.” Rebecca folded her arms.
His breath wouldn’t come, but he managed to stutter his words out. “They were never lost because they’ve been in my safe for years. Mum hated having them in the house.”
She stood up then sat back down. “Fucking hell, Arthur.”
“We’ve been had, you and me both.” Disbelief cleared. “Tell me everything.”
She did, she told him the whole sorry thing.
“Why didn’t you call her bluff? Why didn’t you make the call?”
“She held out the phone, ready to ring you, and looked me right in the eye, knowing how humiliating it would be. I hated it. If you refused to face me while you accused me of theft, after everything we went through, I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me. I was in shock. The last time we spoke, you barely looked at me. You were cold, and you didn’t come over. Afterwards, I thought it was because of the earrings, and you had called the police on me. I decided I’d wait until they’d gone to call you.” She was rigid in anger and was so beautiful.
Getting a Life (New City Series Book 4) Page 16
