“Oh my god.”
“When I was little, it was all so confusing, but I didn’t think he’d really killed her. I thought he’d smacked her about a bit, then sent her away. The reality, though… it’s stayed with me, gnawing at the back of my mind.”
“Did he touch you again, after that?”
Sam looks me in the eye when he says, “They couldn’t find any evidence to pin on him, but I reckon the coppers knew. Anything they had would’ve been circumstantial. I was taken to one side by one of the liaison officers one day who asked if I had seen anything strange or upsetting, but I lied and didn’t mention the barn. Later on, I told my father about what I’d said to the adults who’d questioned me – that I hadn’t mentioned the barn. He told me not to say anything or he’d make me touch him again. My silence was the only thing keeping me safe.”
He breaks down in tears, shaking so much he can hardly hold himself up.
I dash to his side and hold him tight. “I’ve got you now. I’ve got you,” I soothe, holding him close.
The guilt has eaten him up all these years, torn him apart and almost broken him in two.
He must have spent so long hoping to one day find out that it had all been a bad dream… that she’d always been out there somewhere, living the life he had always imagined for her. The truth is, he was scared to locate her – because he was scared he’d actually find her in a grave. Over the years, while he’s been telling me about his sister, he’s been subtly asking for me to help him deal with all of this – and now I can. I can be here for him. We can face this together.
Now I understand his guilty conscience and why he never told me about Gage being gay. I understand his past fuckboy lifestyle, and why it took so long for him to admit that he loved me.
Guilt.
Shame.
Trauma.
Chapter Forty
IT’S BEEN A YEAR SINCE his passing, but it’s only now that I’ve plucked up the courage to do this. The ground is hard and unyielding beneath my feet, but I need to be here.
I stop before Gage’s grave and read the inscription I picked out for him a year ago: Father, Son, Husband
It says nothing about who he really was. How ironic that even in death, he was still upholding the lie. There was never any way for him to be who he really was, not after being brought up to see that the way forward was to deny his true self.
I spread a blanket on the ground, kneeling across the grass, beneath which lies my husband’s body.
“Do you remember our first date?” I ask, as I remove some dead stems no doubt brought here by his mother months ago, never replaced. I unwrap a huge bunch of wildflowers I picked from my own back garden this morning, clipping them before stuffing them inside the metal vase attached to his headstone. “We went to McDonald’s. You were wearing those stupid parachute pants. I was dressed in polka dots and fishnets. Every time you smiled, it felt like my insides were melting.”
I clip furiously for a couple of minutes, trying not to get too upset.
“I don’t think I can forgive Marvin. He still sends cards, but I throw them away. He could’ve put hundreds of pounds in them, and I’d never know.” I laugh like a crazy woman, alone in a graveyard, talking to my dead husband. “I bought a new house with Sam. It’s up in South Dalton, where it’s really very beautiful. We have acres of land to wander and lots of space to live. My mother has her own little granny flat and she splits her time between helping me with the kids and volunteering at the local church. Sam’s been promoted again. Oh, and Emily lost her first tooth. Rupert’s looking more like you all the time and I’ve begun a career as a playwright. They’re adapting my second play as we speak. If you saw it, you’d probably laugh, at least you would now, because you’re not part of this sorry, prejudiced world anymore.”
I faff with the arrangement, wanting my blooms to look perfect.
“Hetty’s left for Liverpool with Joe. She’s going to be massive, I just know it. Her mind’s like this runaway train and she can’t stop. She and Joe come back home often, though. We skype all the time and she seeks my opinion more times a week than I can count. I wish she lived nearby, but sometimes we have to let go in order to grow. I think time’s a great healer, don’t you? I think Joe’s been a massive part of her recovery, but she’s doing amazing things considering all the crap she went through.”
I look out across the surrounding land, vast and so green. His grave is in a churchyard, in the village where my mum and dad used to live. I didn’t want him bunched in with loads of others in any kind of cramped city space. Where he is, it’s nice and quiet, tranquil and serene. He can finally rest.
“Marvin said you didn’t love me, but the more I’ve thought about that, the more I know that’s not true. He didn’t see the times when you’d bring me a hot water bottle, or the nights you held the kids when I was too tired to. He didn’t see that you used to bring me cups of tea and listen to me ranting on about Hetty’s latest misadventure. He didn’t see that you were a husband, after all. It was just that one vital piece was missing from our marriage, wasn’t it? If there had been any sort of lasting passion between us, we might have been all right, you and me.”
I take out my hanky and wipe under my eyes and nose. “If I could undo it all and prevent what you did, I would do it in a heartbeat. If I could turn back time, oh if… If there were some way I could go back and erase all the pain and anguish, I would. I mean that sincerely. However, I wouldn’t be on this journey now without it. So even while I live with this paradox, I’m grateful for you, and I’m on the right path now because of you. I just wanted to come today to say thanks. And to bring you pretty flowers.” I take to my feet and blow him a kiss. “I’ll be back soon, Gage. I promise. I’ll be back.”
WHEN I GET home, Sam’s waiting for me. My mug is full of tea on the sideboard and echoing through the house are the sounds of the kids playing in the conservatory, accompanied by my mother’s yells of encouragement as they play hoops.
Sam wraps his arms around me and squeezes me tight. We stand in the dining kitchen, watching the children enjoying themselves through the windows that look out towards the garden and conservatory.
“How was it?” he asks.
“It was okay. I feel better for it.”
“That’s the main thing.”
Sam and I don’t have secrets anymore. We tell one another everything. Some days I wake up, sure this must be a dream. I have everything I shall ever need right here.
We have a couple of acres and no bordering neighbours. The gardens will forever keep me occupied and Sam bought me a Labrador puppy Christmas just gone. I call her Suzie. It seemed fitting. Suzie’s sleeping near the radiator in her bed right now, still in that stage of infancy where sleep is paramount. I can’t wait for the day when I can walk her for miles around, and also see her bounce around the back garden with the kids.
Sam has plans to get as high up as he can in his job, then start his own business after that. He wants to be a consultant and I applaud him. I think opposites definitely attract because while his career focus is undoubted, mine’s been lacking over the years, sometimes even non-existent. However, I was always told that you need to live before you become a storyteller – and I think I’ve done that.
“I got you something,” he says, letting me go gently from our embrace.
He picks a velvet jewellery box up off the counter and I find myself almost holding my breath… almost…
“Oh, Sam!”
It’s not the right size or shape to be a ring box…
Anyway, it’s the thought that counts.
“I bought it for you ages ago, when I was in Austria wandering some market. I was waiting for a day when I thought you’d need cheering up, so here you go.”
Sam doesn’t spoil me too often, but when he does give gifts, they’ve normally been well thought out.
I pop open the box and discover an ornate, Victorian-style pendant on a matching silver chain. There’s an opal inside surrounded by tiny
diamonds.
“It’s gorgeous, Sam.”
“Let me help you.”
I lift my hair and he fastens it for me at the back. I lift the pendant to see it close up. He knows exactly the type of thing I like and that’s all that really matters to me in this moment.
“Thank you, baby.”
“It suits you,” he says. “The opal complements your blue eyes. I knew you’d love it.”
“I do. I really do.”
He holds his arms around me as I continue watching the kids playing hoops with my mother. She’s entirely content these days – and that also makes me happy. She doesn’t want for anything. She has everything she’s ever needed: a place, a purpose, a family.
Of course, there will always be ghosts in our lives, but that’s to be expected. I try to vanquish his, the same as he endeavours to extinguish mine, even though we’ll never fully be rid of the past, not entirely.
At one stage, I was contemplating asking my mother about my birth father, but then I changed my mind. It doesn’t matter to me, I realised. I have so many people in my life I’m grateful for and even if John Browne didn’t provide the sperm, he’s my father and always will be. It’s not been easy, but he occasionally sends money for the kids and phones at Christmas to make sure we’re all okay. If anything, I’m just grateful he’s alive.
I stand with my back to Sam, holding the pendant between my fingers. It actually feels a bit fancy to be pairing it with my current outfit… you could say that since moving to the country, I’ve embraced jeans and sweaters. Hetty thinks it’s hilarious.
“I’m so happy,” I murmur.
“Me too, kitten.”
I breathe in the fresh air and sigh. The house is a dream… but the love I share with Sam is even better.
I turn in his arms and stare up into his eyes, our forearms locked together.
I can’t help but feel nervous as I tell him, “I know I said it didn’t matter to me… and it still doesn’t really, but the truth is, I am the sort of woman who needs to be married. It’s what I’ve always wanted. It’s who I am. I believe in love everlasting – two people being everything to one another. It’s my heart’s biggest desire… it’s all that really matters to me. It’s just strange that for so many years, this perfect love was staring me in the face… and I guess that’s why I said it didn’t matter, because it didn’t… but it does… if you understand me?”
Sam’s semi-smiling, but he also looks puzzled. “Umm, Liza…”
“I was just scared, that was all. I was scared of us… of it not being all I’d hoped it might be, when the truth is, it’s more than I ever could have imagined, and I just… I just…”
“Liza,” he begins, but I place my hand over his mouth to shut him up.
“Will you bloody marry me, Samuel Aitken? Will you?”
One of his eyebrows lifts, then he’s shaking his head. I’ve pissed him off. Oh, I’ve really gone and done it.
He moves towards one of the kitchen drawers and rummages around in the back. He knows I hate the backs of kitchen drawers, where anything could be lurking. Anyway, he retrieves something… not meant for the kitchen…
This time, the box is neat and square.
He pops it open and I see an elegant diamond, mounted on a plain and simple band.
“I’ve had this much longer than I’ve had that pendant,” he tells me, trying hard not to chuckle. “So, I guess my answer is yes!”
I slap a hand over my mouth and he manages to get the ring on, even though I’m cracking up so bad.
He pulls me tight into his arms, our noses brushing as he kisses me, his hands gently rustling through my hair and his grin as wide as his face.
“I want a church wedding with a massive dress,” I decide, giggling with joy.
“I’d expect absolutely nothing less.”
Then he really kisses me, and I really begin to believe.
We’re not done yet!!
Over the next few pages, the truth about Gage’s last day on earth will be revealed from three different perspectives. If you’re brave enough, carry on.
If you’re not, I warn you, you will be missing out.
I hope you get the answers you’re looking for . . .
SAM
WITH THE TASTE OF LIZA still in my mouth and my body alert and thrumming from a weekend spent fucking her in my bed, up against walls and over my kitchen sideboard, it was with disgust that I watched that despicable husband of hers jump out of his VW, bounce across their driveway and into their house. I’d done my research on this fucker and I knew about him. His drinking, drugs, womanising… all of it. So, it was to my complete surprise that a guy twice his size walked into the house after him and proceeded to kiss him up against the hallway wall, before they’d even shut the door.
How did Liza not know yet? She would have told me if she knew because she kept nothing from me. She’d told me things she’d probably never even discussed with Gage, such as her desire to become a writer and the fear she’d never get chance – not with Gage berating her every time she picked up a pen and paper.
“Come and chill out,” she told me he’d say to her. “Don’t worry about it, we’re good. You don’t need to work again.”
It was about controlling her, for sure – making certain she had no hope of escaping him with a well-paid job of any sort – pure and simple. This guy wasn’t worth shit, not as far as I could tell. Between him and my father, there was no difference.
I doubted Liza would ever leave him and that was completely unacceptable in my eyes. It was our time, finally. She loved me. I’d always wondered if she did – because I’d always loved her – and it was wonderful to finally know she felt the same way. Nothing was going to get in our way anymore.
It was an unexpected, blissful bonus that he was gay. Easy. I only needed ammunition to get rid of him. I left my vehicle and walked up to the house. I couldn’t hear a thing. Lifting the letterbox, I still couldn’t hear anything.
I looked around me, doubting their neighbours were home. Gage’s over-confidence with his lover convinced me of this, too. Everyone on their street would be out working during the day – doctors, teachers, bankers, solicitors – their neighbours had money. Besides, there were plenty of trees around, sheltering people’s houses, providing the privacy people with money crave.
I tried the door handle and it opened. My heart pounding, I crept indoors and pushed the door closed behind me. There were pictures on the walls of the children, going up the stairs and all over the downstairs hallway too. It was clear Liza’s priority was the children, but if the past weekend had taught me anything, it was that Liza had a secret yearning for sexual love too, more than anything else.
As I crept further into the house, the noise became audible. The audacity of him was unbelievable. It wouldn’t have surprised me to discover this was a regular thing – daytime fucking – which made me wonder whether he had her phone tracked, so he knew where she would be at all times and would always know if she was heading back in this direction.
I reached the kitchen and on the table was a bag full of pills and a bottle of vodka with the lid off. Lifting the bag to inspect it, it looked like roofies, but I couldn’t be sure.
They were quiet for a few minutes, then they put some music on.
I crept up the stairs and edged my way towards the master bedroom. The door was only open a sliver, but I could see them, sucking each other off.
I silenced my phone so they wouldn’t hear the camera click, also careful to turn off the flash. With the music and their lust keeping them distracted, I snapped as many photos as I could, then withdrew, creeping back down the stairs. I left the house as quiet as a mouse, then slipped back into the driving seat of my car, parked across the road.
It was clear Gage was deep under, mixing roofies with alcohol to get absolutely smashed all the time.
How did Liza not know? Maybe he was drunk so often, she couldn’t tell the difference between sober Gage and drunk
Gage.
I sat in my car for a while, sinking into my seat.
Marvin emerged around an hour later and Gage waved him off from the door, unashamedly stark-bollock as he did. I doubted he could see me across the road, sat in my car behind tinted windows, also protected by shadows the trees were casting all around. Marvin walked to the end of the street and was met by a taxi which appeared, just at the right time.
Gage went indoors and I observed as he moved from one room to another, stumbling around. In the kitchen I watched him down more vodka, before hiding the bag of pills on top of the kitchen cupboards, high up and out of reach.
I checked the photos I’d just snapped on my phone. I had plenty of ammunition and felt satisfied. I just needed to work out my play. Send these anonymously to Liza, or just tell her the truth? I never imagined I’d show up today and discover Gage to be so fucking duplicitous. I’d had no plans beyond doing anything more than trying to sweet-talk him into letting Liza go. Clearly, if he had any shred of decency, he would have let her go long ago.
I drove off and decided I’d set up a fake Facebook profile, then send her the pictures that way. I’d give it a day or two, though. Just enough time to make sure this was the right thing to do.
A DAY LATER, the shocking news came: Gage had died after choking on his own vomit. I shelved the photos and started to panic. What if someone had seen me hanging about outside his house? All sorts started running through my head. I felt guilty by association. I’d carried guilt like this all my life.
So, when Liza asked me to organise the clean-up, I decided to do it myself, just in case there was any nastiness to be dealt with. I could then personally eradicate any fallout which might have hindered Liza’s recovery.
I scrubbed her en suite from top to bottom and checked all around the house for any pills he might have left hidden. All I found was a load of anti-depressants he’d never popped the foils on. Clearly, he’d been medicating in a different way – with pills, booze and sex with Marvin. I wouldn’t have put it past Marvin to have come back for the roofies at some point, maybe. Marvin was as buried in this as Gage was, clearly. Addicts will lie about anything and everything just to keep their hand in.
Guilt Page 31
