White Knight

by Annie Dyer

  I let the silence hang for a moment because I didn’t want her to think that what I was about to say was purely to make her feel better. It was easy for someone outside of the situation to blame the victim; to say ‘well, why didn’t they just leave him?’ or ‘they could’ve left at any time’. I knew that wasn’t true: that women and men were brainwashed into believing their partner or spouse so they would be easily controlled.

  “What made you leave?”

  “Three weeks after I still felt dirty. It wasn’t full sex, just oral, but I was about to put bleach in my mouth when I realised what the consequences would be. I walked out of the door at that moment because I knew if I didn’t I probably wouldn’t see out the year.”

  “But you did. You went. You’re sitting here now having handed over evidence to the police that proves what he did. So, what does that make you?” I said, wanting her to say the words for herself rather than hear them from me.

  “Strong,” she said. “I know. I think I want to start a charity or add to one, that raises money to help women and men who have been in situations of domestic abuse get counselling.” She looked at me anxiously. “Nick has been amazing, Claire. He never judged or told me what to do. He never tried to control anything. He might’ve persuaded me on what pizza toppings to pick and then got my favourite anyway or we took turns at choosing which series to watch. It was a novelty.”

  I hadn’t had many relationships, mainly a series of dates with the same person, but even so, I understood what she was describing. “That’s normal, Katie. It’s called compromise.”

  “I know. I get it. That’s why I can deal with it if what I did does get out to the media”

  The door opened and two huge men came through, both looking ready to move. “We can go,” Killian said. “Dean Lacey is being brought in for questioning. They don’t expect much as he can disassociate it and palm it off onto his lawyers, saying they were desperate for the win, but the police think it will mean he’ll distance himself.”

  “What about what I’ve told them?” Katie said, no longer holding the tablet that had contained all of the photos and saved emails. She’d handed it in.

  Nick pulled her into his chest. “They’re speaking to the man in the photos. It’s going to be dealt with sensitively.”

  “What if he doesn’t want to make a complaint?”

  “There’s enough evidence there anyway. Lacey’s committed a crime. Now let’s go pick the twins up and you can choose which take out to have as long as it’s not pizza,” Nick said. “We’ve eaten so much pizza.”

  “That’s why I’ve put weight on,” Katie said, looking down at herself.

  Nick nodded. “That’s one goal achieved then.” He looked to Killian. “Security stays the same. The injunction’s in place.”

  “You’ll get your divorce quickly now,” I said to Katie.

  She nodded. “Thank you. All of you. For everything.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Killian

  Four weeks later, on a Friday, things started to feel somewhere back to normal. Normal in the loosest sense of the word, or within my understanding of it anyway. Claire hadn’t gone back to her apartment. She had slowly taken over my house with bits of pink and purple shades that she had different names for and cushions and shoes. The shoes were everywhere. I went in a cupboard to dig out an electric screwdriver to put a shoe cupboard together and a random shoe fell out and knocked me on my head. She found it hilarious: I lost my temper, which equated to me pacing round the room, muttering under my breath and opening a beer and her laughing even more.

  “You could just remodel the safe room,” she said, repeating words she’d been using for several days.

  I glared. “I could also convert the loft. If you’re moving in, then you can have a fucking shoe room up there. The safe room is staying.”

  “Do you want me to move in?” she said, sitting down on the floor as I dug through yet more shoes to find my tool box. “Because maybe this is the sort of conversation we should be having before I bring any more of my stuff over here?”

  “Do you have more shoes to bring?” I grumbled, finally finding what I was looking for.

  “I might have. To be fair, Killian, I haven’t bought any for weeks.” She cast pleading eyes at me and I mumbled some more about shoes and weapons and only needing two pairs, which was a lie.

  “So,” I said. “Are you moving in?”

  “I repeat my previous question of ‘do you want me to me in’?”

  I put down my tools and studied her. She had weird tin foil things wrapped round her toes, some white dots on her face that was yoghurt or something that should’ve been eaten and one of my t-shirts that wasn’t that old but I knew I had zero chance of every getting back. I sighed and sat down on the floor facing her. Despite the tin foil, the yoghurt and stealing my t-shirt, I didn’t want her returning back to her apartment or anywhere else. I’d caught her looking on the internet at properties for sale but she hadn’t actually mentioned about anything catching her interest, which was as it should be. “Yes, I’d like you to live with me,” I said. I could’ve made some passive comment, like ‘you already are or ‘you may as well’, but that would’ve been a dick move. “I’ll learn to live with the shoes and we’ll convert the loft.”

  Claire laughed. “There are already four bedrooms, plus the safe room. Do we really need more space? You haven’t put anything in the basement yet.” The basement had been dug out and tanked, then plastered and carpeted in one half, solid flooring in the other. The latter would be my gym, just a few weights that I could use when I couldn’t be bothered to go out. The other part I was imagining as a cinema room, with maybe a snooker table too.

  “One room’s ours. Then we need at least one guest room. If we have another room for a dressing area, that only gives us either another guest room or, you know.” I tried to telepath the rest of the sentence to her.

  “You know what, Killian? Explain it to me.” She knew damn well what I was saying.

  “If we have babies.” I looked away. I had thought plenty about her being pregnant when we were at university and the decision she’d taken. I hadn’t allowed myself to consider the what ifs; I understood her choice not to tell me because she’d been right: it would’ve made everything infinitely harder. She’d protected me in many ways. And now I was just thankful for the chance we could try another time.

  Claire laughed, enjoying my discomfort. “Then you’ve got plenty of time to be converting the loft. It’ll give you and Nick something to do to stop you from working. How many rooms would we get up there?”

  I shrugged. I had thought about it. “Either two beds and a bathroom, or three beds and a wet room. I’ll start to put some plans together. I can extend on the back as well, just no changes to the front.”

  “How many babies do you think we’ll be having?” she said, trying to sound as if I was being ridiculous but I could see the smile creeping up at the corners of her mouth.

  “Twins run in the family,” I said. “So at least three.”

  “You can give birth to them then,” she said, crossing her legs.

  I frowned and glanced at her bare legs. “Did you forget to get dressed this morning?”

  “There didn’t seem much point.” She smiled sinfully.

  I stood up. “Why’s that?”

  “I figured you’d need distracting from my shoes.”

  “Did you now?” I said, bending down and picking her up, swinging her over my shoulder which resulted in her laughing and my t-shirt riding up, exposing her ass. “Planning on practicing making those babies, were you?”

  She giggled and I let out a sigh of relief that she’d be making that noise in my house for a long time to come.

  It had been just over three weeks since Dean Lacey had been arrested for blackmail. He was out on bail, keeping a very low profile, and Katie had been offered favourable terms in their settlement. Yesterday, Friday, had been the day when the decree nisi had been issu
ed and she was heading towards being a single woman, with her own means, which was entirely what she wanted.

  Claire had decided that instead of going out to celebrate, she was going to have everyone round to ours, making me wish I’d already extended the back of the house into the garden as a little bit more room would’ve been ideal. She’d also decided to cook, which again, was fine. What wasn’t fine was that she’d assumed that I would accept the role of sous chef. I didn’t cook. I ordered good take out and I only chose the finest prepared dinners, but I didn’t cook.

  “So how are you going to help me get everything ready?” she said, her hands on her hips. It was mid-September and still fairly warm enough that Claire was wearing shorts. She had fuck ugly boot flurry slipper things too, but there was enough skin exposed that I had more trouble saying no to her than normal.

  “I’m going to get out of your way.”

  Her expression changed to knowing disapproval. “You’re going to rugby practice, aren’t you?”

  I gave a small shrug. “I might be.”

  “Killian! We’ve got people coming round for dinner. I could do with the help setting up…”

  “I’ll be gone two and a half hours, tops. When I come back, I’ll do exactly what you want. I’ll even move the table into three different positions so you can see which works best, if you want…” She turned pale and I shut up. “What’s the matter?”

  Claire shook her head. “Just indigestion. I feel a bit queasy. Shit, what if it’s a bug? I could end up infecting everyone!”

  “Have you been sick?”

  “No. I haven’t had anything to eat yet. It’s probably that. You go play rugby with my brothers. And if you see Max, tell him to stop dodging my calls.” She started to rummage in cupboards and I figured now was a good time to make a quick exit else rugby wouldn’t be on today’s agenda.

  “Will do. Why don’t you give Vanessa a call and get her to help? Or Katie?”

  Claire nodded, pulling out a large knife. I took a few steps backwards. I didn’t quite trust her at the moment. The sharp tongue she’d always had was currently at its quickest and when she was like that she was just a little bit scary. “Van’s coming over in about an hour. Katie said she’ll pop in when she’s finished viewing houses.”

  I choked back a laugh. She and my brother were playing a very unconvincing game of not being completely taken with each other. “Because she’s really going to stop living with Nick any time soon.”

  “Yep,” Claire said, thankfully putting down the knife. “She’s even got a date next week.”

  I laughed, leaned over the breakfast bar and gave Claire a quick kiss. “I’ll make sure Nick knows. See you in a bit.”

  By the time I’d returned, Claire was sitting with Vanessa and Katie in the kitchen which smelled of food. No one was telling her, but Jackson and Nick and I had managed to grab lunch at Borough Market, knowing that dinner was likely to be later than planned and if we headed back to mine sooner, there would be more jobs for us to do.

  “You smell of beer,” Claire said as I pulled her into me. “And food.”

  “We had a couple of drinks and they were serving food in the pub,” I said, not mentioning eating it. “Is there anything you need me to do?”

  She turned around and smiled sweetly. “Yes. The cleaning up afterwards.” I pretended to grumble, grabbing her ass when I was sure no one could see it, and then Jackson and Nick came in. Nick had the twins and chaos resumed.

  We ate late, beer and wine and conversation following. Katie was more relaxed and happier than I’d seen her, a twin asleep on her lap, while the other – Margot – fussed with her dad’s beard.

  “They were all lovely,” Katie said. “I couldn’t tell you why I didn’t like any of them. None needed any work doing; they were all really secure. In fact, the third house I pretty much could’ve moved straight into.”

  “So, what’s put you off making an offer?” Vanessa said.

  Katie shrugged. “Didn’t feel right.”

  “Maybe now’s not the right time,” Claire said, still nursing half a glass of champagne from when we’d toasted Katie’s Decree Nisi being granted. She still looked pale. “Sell yours and then you’re in a position to make a lower offer as you won’t be in a chain. And you might fancy somewhere out of the city anyway.”

  I stopped listening to the conversation, instead watching Nick’s face as Katie talked about houses and where she wanted to live. He wasn’t enjoying himself.

  “Nick,” I said. “Nick.” A little louder. His eyes were on Katie. I went up to him and poked him hard in the side of his head. “Come up to the loft with me. I need your thoughts before you have too many beers.”

  He looked a little dazed. “Loft?”

  “Yeah, I’m going to convert it and you’re going to be helping. Shift it.”

  He shook his head. “Now?”

  “Yes. To look at it. See what issues there will be.”

  He looked between me and Katie and back again.

  “You’re being more obvious than normal, bro. Let’s go. Then you can hit the beers.”

  He stood up and followed me up the two flights of stairs, looking up at the large hatch into the loft. “Simple job to extend the stairs,” he said. “You’ll lose a bit of the space here, but it’s wasted anyway.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “If it stays empty it’ll end up with a cupboard for Claire’s shoes.”

  “So, she’s moving in?”

  I nodded, trying to act all cool about it and then the shit-eating grin spread across my face. “Yeah. She’s been here for weeks and she’s going to sell the apartment. We only talked about it this morning but…”

  He slapped me on my back, harder than he needed to. “I’m pleased for you,” he said. “You’ve been mooning over her for long enough. May as well stick a ring on it too.”

  I shrugged. “It’s on my agenda,” I said. “You don’t think we’re rushing things?” It had occurred to me that it was fast. Only a few weeks ago, we’d not been speaking civilly most of the time.

  Nick shook his head. “No. What might be fast is the expanding for the number of people living here. Something you need to tell me?”

  “No. We were going through what extra space we needed for Claire’s shoes. And guest rooms, plus when we do have kids we’ll need extra space. We’ve already had Seph turn up here three times wanting somewhere to stay after a night out,” I said. Seph clearly hated living on his own. Last week, he’d blagged a room at everyone else’s house and only stayed at his once. I didn’t mind him being here; the house was big enough that he didn’t cramp our style and he was a decent house guest, but clearly the guy had some issues he needed to work on.

  “So, you’ve had the kids talk?”

  I grabbed a chair from one of the bedrooms and stood on it to move the loft hatch. There were already ladders to pull down. Telling my brother about what happened that summer had been something I’d dismissed, but now I wanted to share it. We were close, always had been and the time we’d had together in the marines, although brief, had strengthened that. “We have.” He followed me into the loft, a vast high space that was completely empty. “She was pregnant when we split up.”

  Nick nodded, using the torch app on his phone to look around. “I always figured it was something like that. How do you feel about it?”

  “That she’s brave and tough. She made a difficult decision.”

  “Was it the choice you’d have made if you’d known?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t say how I would’ve felt at the time. I probably would’ve stayed and done my MBA if we hadn’t split up, regardless of a baby. But that’s in the past now.” It was. We’d talked about it a little more, especially about when we got to March and what would’ve been her due date. But there was no blame or regret, just an acceptance.

  Nick nodded. “Sounds like you’ve got it sorted.”

  I laughed. “I’m living with a woman, Nick. It’s a fucking minefie
ld. You never know what comment is going to set off some sort of explosion. Especially Claire.”

  “At least you know where you stand with her, kind of.”

  “Yeah, in a fucking bomb shelter. She mentioned about changing the safe room to a shoe closet or a dressing room for her, but I’m keeping it as my safe place,” I said, trying to make him laugh.

  Nick shook his head. “Funny. Somehow I think you’re about as scared of her as the twins are of me.”

  “That’s probably right.” I folded my arms and eyed him. “Katie.”

  “What about her?”

  “How long is she nannying for?”

  “She’s not the girls’ nanny,” Nick said.

  “What is she then, because they fucking adore her.”

  “When she moves out she’ll still see them.”

  “In what capacity?”

  “Fuck off, Killian.”

  I shook my head. “No, Nick. You’re both dancing round each other like you’re in a fucking ballroom. What’s happening with the pair of you?”

  He looked up at the joists. “This won’t be a problem to convert. Bet we could do it in a couple of weeks if we got Mick and Jamie in to help. It’s structurally sound. How many houses down the road have done the same?”

  “Most of them. Nice try at a deflection. Have you been there?”

  “Slept with her? No. We stopped.” He shook his head. “Look, Killian, I really don’t want to talk about it but because you’re like the proverbial rabid mutt with a fucking bone, I will. There’s something there; we get along so well and she’s fucking gorgeous but I don’t want the celebrity life near my girls.”

  “What if she stopped the modelling and just did her charity work?”

  Nick looked back up to the rafters. “Even then. Leave it at that. We’re friends and that’s how it’s going to stay. She can live at mine for as long as she wants. She’s fantastic with the twins.”

  “What about her date next week?”

  He laughed. “It’s with Julian Nixon. It’s not a date.”