First published 2018
Copyright © Susan Bella Ikin 2018
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This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Under no circumstances may any part of this book be photocopied for resale.
This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and co-incidental.
Auckland, New Zealand, present day.
“Helen, Thank God you’re here. Janice called in sick at the last minute, and we’ve been run off our feet”.
“That’s ok, Maeve. I just had to settle Michelle before I left. I was just lucky that my neighbour was home and could come over at the last minute, but Michelle was a bit unsettled and I didn’t want to leave her like that. Now, what do you want me to do?”
“You’re a lifesaver, Helen. I don’t know how you do it with a toddler to look after, but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Beth has been trying to walk the trays around by herself, but she can’t keep up. It’s a hungry crowd tonight, but they’ve been in a conference all day, so I suppose they’re enjoying the chance to get up and move around for a bit before dinner. If you can take this tray of crab puffs around, Beth can tell you which part of the room she’s worked, and which part she’s missed so far”.
I picked up the tray, plastered a smile on my face, and pushed through the swing doors, following the sound of the chatter to the foyer outside the dining room. I didn’t know what this conference was about, and it didn’t matter. My immediate task was to get some snacks and drinks into these people, and later I would guide them in to the dining room where they would be properly fed while they listened to another speaker. There would be more to do then, but I would worry about that later. I took a deep breath as I turned the corner and saw lots of people milling around, many of them with glasses in hand. These sorts of events always made me uncomfortable, I didn’t know why. There were a lot of things I didn’t know about why I felt things, or did things, or didn’t do things, but tonight wasn’t the time for self-exploration. I had rent to pay, and groceries to buy, so I needed this job. It wasn’t a bad job really, because it was mostly nights and weekends, so I could trade baby-sitting duties with my next-door neighbour, Hilary, who worked during the day. I minded little Peter for her during the day, and she minded Michelle for me when I worked. The nights that I really hated though, were the nights where I had to put Michelle to sleep in Hilary’s house, if her husband wasn’t home and so she couldn’t leave Peter with him to sit with Michelle in our own home. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with Hilary, or Frank, or even Peter, but I hated to leave Michelle anywhere that wasn’t home, as if by leaving her somewhere else, I would somehow lose her. As silly as that fear was, it was another thing I didn’t know the reason for. Just another thing to chalk up to my crazy memory, or lack of it, to be correct.
It wasn’t that I had forgotten everything about my past. I seemed to know enough to keep up with current events and to participate in discussions with people, so it seemed that I could remember things I had learnt, I just couldn’t remember anything about my own past. Not since I woke up in that hospital room, the awful day I learned that my husband had been killed in the car crash, and that my unborn child and I had been lucky to survive. I couldn’t remember anything about us, I only knew my name because that had been on my identification. Helen Whittaker. Widow of Bruce Whittaker. Both of us born in the UK, but recently emigrated to New Zealand, although I didn’t know why. There was no record of myself or Bruce having a job since we arrived, in fact we had apparently kept very much to ourselves and had not mixed with other people, so there was no-one who could tell me what my life had been like before the crash. I had been unable to help the authorities find out if we had any family still living in the UK, so eventually when I was released from hospital, a place was found for me in a women’s shelter until I could get on my feet and get a place of my own. That had been a harrowing place. The women and children there were all fleeing some sort of violence, and they had terrible stories to tell, if they wanted to tell them at all. The address was kept secret, so that their partners couldn’t find them, but they were all scared anyway. If a phone rang, they jumped. If someone came to the door, they jumped. I had recognised some of the symptoms in myself, so wondered what sort of marriage Bruce and I might have had. The counsellor appointed to me to try to help recover my memory raised the prospect that maybe my family couldn’t be found because Bruce hadn’t wanted it that way, and I tended to agree. Isolation is a form of abuse, intended for the abuser to gain control over their victim. Maybe the reason the counsellor was so ready to believe that I might have been a victim of domestic abuse might have been that some of the bruises found on me at the hospital were too old to have been caused by the accident. Some of them were almost faded away, and the pattern was suggestive of a beating. I also had very ambivalent feelings towards Bruce. Sometimes I couldn’t feel anything at all when I tried to remember him, sometimes I felt fear. But when Michelle was born, all I could think was that whatever I had been through, at least I had her.
I worked my way through the chattering crowd, offering my tray of crab puffs quietly. Most people didn’t even look twice at the serving staff, many not even breaking off their conversations before taking food off my tray. I wondered how many people even knew what they were eating, as quite a few didn’t even seem to hear me when I quietly told them what was on the tray. I smiled at Beth as she approached, her tray almost empty, just littered with some debris from what looked like crackers smeared with caviar. I thought to myself that this must be a well paying crowd, even as I listened to Beth’s instructions as to what parts of the room she had worked so far. Smiling at people as I continued to work the room, I became aware of having an odd sensation, almost like I was being watched. I looked around, but I couldn’t see anyone acting out of the ordinary, so I wrote the strange feeling off, thinking that maybe I was just unsettled because I had rushed out of the house unexpectedly. I had not been rostered on for this function, but had agreed to fill in at the last minute, so it had been a bit of a rush getting to work tonight and I had arrived feeling a little breathless.
I headed around to another part of the room, reasoning that these people probably hadn’t had anything to snack on recently. As I walked, I heard snatches of conversation, it mostly seemed to be about finance, and capital, and it really didn’t interest me, so I kept smiling and passing around my tray. Noting that it was almost empty, I turned to work my way back to the kitchen to collect another tray, almost getting to the back of house area when I heard someone behind me. Suddenly, I felt my arm grasped tightly, and a strong hand spun me around. I sucked in a breath as I saw a tall man, dark and angry looking, staring down at me. My heart thudded against my chest as for just a moment, a spark of recognition flared, then it was gone. He spoke in a loud whisper, obviously not wanting his words to carry to the rest of the room, but his behaviour was nevertheless very intense.
“Helen, it is you! You look different and I wasn’t sure, but it really is you. What are you doing here? I think you owe me an explanation about that and a lot more, and I’d like to know where the money went, too!”
I tried to shrug his hand off my
arm, looking back to see if I was far from the kitchen, and hoping that Beth was about to come back through the doors right then. I was frightened, although not as scared as I should have been, as this man was clearly deranged, and a lot bigger and stronger than I was. But still, there were a lot of people within screaming distance, and I intended to use that to my advantage.
“Listen, whoever you are. I don’t know what your problem is, but I don’t know you. Take your hand off me now before I scream”.
The man looked at me for a moment, he still looked angry, but for a moment there was a fleeting expression on his face, something I couldn’t quite define. But at least he seemed to take my threat seriously, as he released my arm. I resisted the urge to rub where he had held. I didn’t think he had grabbed me hard enough to have hurt me, but I felt a distinct tingle where his hand had been. I looked to the side, wondering if he would let me go without anything further, then he held up a hand as if to stop me, without actually touching me.
“I don’t know what game you’re playing Helen, but what you did to me was unthinkable. I wouldn’t have thought you capable of something like that, but I was wrong. If you wanted to leave so much, you could have just left, but obviously it was more about the money than anything else. Can you just tell me, did I ever mean anything more to you, or were you just planning to get what you could from me for the whole time we were together?”
I stared at him, my mouth opening and closing a couple of times before I could get any words out. He really is crazy, I thought. Now I began to wonder about my safety when my shift finished, or even if I should complete my shift at all. Maybe it would be better if I could just get away from him, and then leave early. I hated to leave Maeve in the lurch, but she would understand, surely? I started to think about how I could get away from him without provoking any further reaction, but as he stared at me, I lost all sensible thought. I made the mistake of looking into his deep blue eyes, and unbidden the thought came to me that those eyes would probably darken with passion. Shaking my head to clear that errant and unwelcome thought, I stammered out the first thing that came to me.
“I’m sorry, but I think you have me mixed up with someone else. I really don’t know you. Now, you have to go back to your function, I have work to do”.
He frowned at me.
“I don’t think so, Helen. I’m not as stupid as you seem to think I am, you can’t get rid of me that easily. No, if I turn away, you’ll just disappear again like you did last time. I don’t care if you do, but only after you give me some answers, including telling me what you did with my money. Although, considering how much you stole from me, I can’t imagine how you got through it so fast that you ended up working as a waitress, again. Seeing you like this, I’m sure I’ll probably never see any of it again, and quite frankly, I don’t care if I do, but you owe me an explanation. I’ll follow you back to the kitchen, and you can tell your boss that you’re feeling sick and then we’ll leave together. I have a room at the hotel upstairs, you can come with me where we can have some privacy to talk. If that doesn’t suit you, we can go back to your place, but we’re going to talk”.
I started to panic a little. This man, whoever he thought he was, or I was, was really beginning to worry me. I could tell he meant what he said, which left me with only one option.
“I’m not going anywhere with you, and certainly not to your hotel room. I don’t have a clue who you are, and I don’t care. If you don’t walk away from me now, I’ll call the police”.
The man smirked at me, actually smirked.
“Call them then. When you do, I’ll give them the name of the investigators back home, you remember home, don’t you? The police back in Australia would just love to hear that you are safe and well. Do you know how long they looked for you, and the resources they wasted on that search? They’d love to have a discussion with you about your fake kidnapping, and the fake ransom you extorted from me, and find out who was in it with you. As for not knowing who I am? That’s a good one, Helen. I’m your husband, remember?
~
“Is that some sort of sick joke?” I gasped. “My husband is dead”.
The man stared at me for a moment, then his lip curled into a sneer.
“Sorry honey, but as you can see, I am very much alive. You can’t bluff your way out of this one, Helen, now that I’ve found you again, I’m not leaving here without some answers”.
Just then, Beth came out of the kitchen, looking a bit frazzled, obviously looking for me. She saw me standing, talking to the man, and her expression turned quite angry.
“Helen, socialise on your own time. Maeve needs help to get all the pre-dinner snacks served. Whatever you and this ‘gentleman’ need to talk about, can wait until your shift finishes tonight”.
The man appeared distracted by Beth’s outburst, so I took the opportunity to scurry to the kitchen, planning to grab my bag and go. Hearing a commotion behind me, I was horrified to see that he had followed me to the kitchen, and was standing in the doorway, unmoving. Beth gave up trying to get him to leave, and with a look at me that clearly told me that the man was my problem now, she hurried off, leaving the door to swing to behind her, almost hitting the man as it did. I became aware of Maeve moving up next to me, then she moved forward towards the man.
“Can I help you? Are you lost? I can take you back out to the function room if you are”.
The man looked at Maeve, then a change came over him. He smiled, and I sucked in my breath at the change the smile wrought on his face. While I had been aware before that he was a handsome man, when he was smiling he was devastating. Maeve was clearly not immune to him, as she clasped his outstretched hand, and I could have sworn I heard her giggle as she introduced herself.
“Maeve, is it?” The man said in a flirtatious voice. “I’m so sorry to interrupt you when you are obviously so busy, but I was surprised to run into Helen and I am afraid that I must have forgotten my manners. Mitch Barrow is my name, and I was wondering if I could borrow Helen tonight, I’d love to catch up with her, we lost touch you see, and I don’t want to miss this opportunity to reconnect”.
My eyes narrowed at his change of tactics. While he had been angry and demanding with me, and Maeve probably would have reacted badly if he had continued to behave in that way, by turning on his charm he had easily won over my boss.
“Oh, Mr Barrow I’d love to help you out, but I am shorthanded tonight. Helen wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight, but one of my other waitresses called in sick at the last moment, and I can’t replace Helen if she leaves early. Could it possibly wait until the formalities are over? Once the wait staff are finished, I’m sure Helen would be happy to meet with you”.
“Call me Mitch”, smiled the man, “I suppose if I have to wait, I will. Imagine the coincidence? Helen wasn’t even supposed to be working tonight, yet here she is. I could so easily have missed her, isn’t fate wonderful that I didn’t? What time would you expect Helen to be finished tonight?”
Maeve smiled at him as she directed me to pick up another tray that had just been finished.
“Oh, we should be done at around ten o’clock. After dinner we just have to clear the tables, then the cleaning staff will take care of the rest. Helen, can you take this around? I’m so sorry that I can’t let you go early, but you understand, don’t you?”
“Yes, Maeve, I do. Now if you will excuse me, Mr Barrow, I have things to do”.
As I moved towards the door, the man who I now knew to be Mitch Barrow stepped ahead of me, holding the swing door open for me to go through. As I did, he spoke quietly into my ear before letting me go.
“That’s a bit formal, isn’t it? I remember you preferring to call me Mitch. In fact, I remember you were often happy to scream out my name, over and over sometimes”.
I looked at him in confusion. He really seemed to believe what he was saying, and even worse, his words had brought images to my mind that I couldn’t easily dispel. Those images were right now p
laying havoc with my lady parts and I faltered, stumbling as I pictured him moving above me, with my arms wrapped tightly around him.
“Easy”, he said as he grabbed me by the waist to steady me, and again I felt that tingle where his hands touched. As the door swung shut behind us, he let go of me and stood tall over me, speaking in a more normal tone of voice now that Maeve couldn’t hear us anymore.
“Don’t think of leaving early and running off now. If you do, I’ll call in the local police and we’ll have a talk to your boss about what a conwoman you are. I imagine you need this job. If you try to ditch me tonight, I’ll make sure you lose this job, and if I can I’ll stop you getting another one. Are we clear?”
I nodded, my mouth dry. I knew, somehow I knew, that if this man said something like that, he meant it. For the moment at least, I would have to play along, maybe some opportunity to get rid of him would come up.
During the rest of the evening, I was fully aware of wherever Mitch Barrow was. I could feel his eyes on me, no matter where I was in the room. If I turned, I would see him watching me. Now I understood what that feeling had been before, somehow I had known there was someone watching me, I just hadn’t known who, or that it was someone delusional. After the pre dinner snacks were done, Beth and I managed to usher the first few people in to the dining room, and once the crowd noticed a few people making their way in, everyone followed. While everyone was finding their allotted places on the tables, Beth and I could go into the kitchen and start grabbing plates of appetisers, checking the lists for the special dietary requirements, and making sure that the right food ended up on the right tables. We were so busy that I didn’t notice who was speaking during the meal, but I did notice the table that Mitch Barrow was on. Of course, it had to be the head table. That had to be just my luck, not only was my stalker delusional, but he was obviously a well connected delusional stalker, that was going to make it more difficult for me if our dispute became public. The evening wore on, and as we were clearing the tables of the main course dishes, in preparation for the dessert course, I noticed Mitch Barrow get up to the podium. I lingered in the doorway, wondering what he would have to say, and when he began to speak, the room was so quiet I could almost hear myself breathe. It seemed that my stalker was not only delusional and well connected, but his opinions were prized as well. He was talking about how to turn sustainability into a successful business, thereby not only reducing man’s footprint on the planet, but making money in the process, but I could only hear part of it as I had to keep working. I tried to listen as I bustled about the room, and despite myself I was entranced by his voice as he spoke. He was clearly passionate about his subject matter, and his voice was at the same time commanding, and warm. I could understand why the people in the room were listening to him. As he talked, I imagined how some of what he was saying could improve my life as well. My rental house wasn’t bad, but it was built before insulation was compulsory, and as a result it was expensive to heat and cool. I wished my landlord would invest in solar panels, but as it was of no benefit to him, it wasn’t ever likely to happen. If I could ever see my way clear to buying my own place, I would love to put some of these ideas into practice, but I doubted that would ever happen. Most weeks I just had enough for rent, bills and food, saving for a deposit for even a little unit would never happen. I couldn’t even afford to buy a flat, and I wanted Michelle to have a backyard to enjoy as she grew up. At least my house had one of those.
Forgotten Husband Page 1
