She didn’t argue, but waited for him to come around to her side to open the door. Once inside, he fixed the tea in the kitchen while she went upstairs to change into something that didn’t remind her of the ordeal. After all they’d been through – the fights, the tears and putdowns – in her hour of need she had reached out to him. Not one of the other men she had brazenly flaunted in his face.
Him.
She still loved him, in spite of everything, and even though it didn’t mean anything would change, he welcomed the warmth spreading through his body like wild fire.
Carrying the tea upstairs, he gently knocked on the ajar door. ‘I’ve brought your tea up. How are you feeling now?’
‘Can you come in?’ she asked quietly.
Jake pushed the door open with his foot, instinctively turning away when he saw she was naked, standing in front of the mirror. This was the woman he had shared a bed with more times than he could remember, but the invisible wall remained between them. ‘Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realise...’ he began to say, but she wasn’t listening, focused on the patches of red where the seat belt had restricted her upon collision.
‘Can you come and look at this,’ she asked awkwardly, seeing his back turned.
Jake lowered the tea to the bedside table and tiptoed over, feeling like some kind of pervert, and unsure why it felt so weird. She was stroking the belt’s imprint with her right hand, and despite the warmth of the room, little goosebumps peppered her skin. She looked up at his reflection as he appeared behind her, and reached for his hand, pulling it around her waist, so he too could feel the reddening patch.
‘Does it hurt?’ he asked, his voice cracking.
She nodded and the scent of her perfume tickled his nostrils.
She smelt so good. And standing there in her birthday suit she looked so good.
Still she continued to move his fingertips over the bumpy skin, and shuddered suddenly as his little finger brushed against one of her pert nipples.
He wanted to apologise for the brush, but before he knew what was happening she’d pushed his hand fully over her breast, and worked his hand so he was massaging it. Jake couldn’t control the blood rushing to his groin, and as soon as she felt it, she span round and pulled him into a long and passionate kiss.
And suddenly all those fights and tears evaporated, as animal instinct took over: her ripping the shirt from his body, and him lifting her legs and carrying her to the bed.
The voice in the back of his mind was warning him against continuing, but he was overcome with passion, and soon there bodies were entwined, moving together as one, as both gave in to their base instincts; both needing to feel wanted.
And as the bond of sweat grew between them and they writhed in an unbreakable bond it was like it used to be. There was suddenly no history between them, it was like the breaking of a new dawn, and as she wrapped her legs around his body, controlling the rhythm, he felt utterly lost in her beauty and longing.
THIRTY-FOUR
Megan hadn’t been back in the poky studio flat before her phone was ringing. And seeing Wanda’s name on the screen, she was tempted to cancel the call, but relented, reminding herself that Wanda was hurting as much as her.
‘Hi Wanda,’ she said into the phone, unable to keep the despondency from her voice.
‘Oh, you don’t sound happy. Has something happened?’
Megan took a deep breath, trying to let her growing unease subside, and vowing to give Dr Marshall’s breathing exercise a go after the call.
‘Nothing new, no.’
‘Oh, okay, um...to be honest I wasn’t sure you’d take my call after yesterday. You’ve no idea how awful I feel about bringing that ring over. I genuinely thought it would make you happy to know that Rob had been planning to propose, but now in hindsight, I see that I should have waited longer. What I’m trying to say is: I’m sorry.’ Wanda added, exhaling in satisfaction, as if the words had been eating away at her, and now the pain was gone.
Megan wished it was that easy to take away her own loss and grief.
‘You don’t need to apologise. You weren’t to know, and,’ Megan paused as she tried to keep calm and show empathy, ‘and I understand why you brought it over.’
It was what Wanda needed to hear, even if Megan didn’t quite believe the words herself.
‘Oh that’s a relief,’ Wanda gushed, ready to move on. ‘Bill told me you probably wouldn’t speak to me again, but I told him. I told him you weren’t one to hold grudges and that you’d see clearer after a good night’s sleep. So, have you tried it on yet?’
Megan looked over to the cabinet drawer where she’d stashed the jewellery box first thing this morning. It still didn’t feel right to have it in the flat, let alone to wear it. And if Wanda thought that all it would take was the passing of time, she had another think coming.
‘He definitely would want you to wear it,’ Wanda continued, oblivious to the turmoil coursing through Megan’s mind. ‘He was such a romantic about things like that. Does it fit okay?’
Megan wanted to scream that there was no way she would ever put the ring on; that if Rob had wanted her to have it, he would have given it to her; that he had offered no hint that he was planning to propose, and that they hadn’t even formally discussed the future in the months leading up to the fire.
And as she felt the anger building inside her, and the urge to lash out took hold, it was all she could do to lower the phone, open her mouth and scream silently into the air.
‘Hello? Megan? Are you still there?’ Wanda asked as Megan strained out the last of the frustration, before returning the phone to her ear. ‘It’s fine. Was there anything else you wanted, Wanda, as I have to go out in a minute,’ she lied.
‘Ooh, where are you going? Somewhere nice?’
Megan’s mind raced as she searched for an answer that wouldn’t elicit more questions. ‘Bingo,’ she finally blurted.
‘Oh really, with friends?’
‘Janice from work. Bumped into her the other day, and she suggested I tag along.’
‘Oh that’s nice,’ Wanda gushed again.
Megan could picture her smiling broadly as she took credit for helping Megan escape her slump. If only she knew the truth!
‘Oh, well I won’t keep you long then,’ Wanda continued. ‘I got to thinking last night when I was at home that what you’d really benefit from is a holiday.’
Megan couldn’t disagree more. The thought of going somewhere that would trigger more memories of Rob filled her with dread. Equally, the thought of going somewhere different and creating new memories without Rob was just as awful.
‘I appreciate the idea, Wanda, but -’
‘So what I was thinking is,’ Wanda interrupted, without missing a beat, ‘is you and I booking somewhere abroad where we can leave all this pain and hurt behind. God knows I could do with a break away too. And I’ve spoken to Bill and he’s happy too. I can’t remember the last holiday we had away. Well, Bill and I went skiing in the Alps before Christmas, oh and then there was that weekend away in New York, but what I mean is I don’t remember the last proper holiday, where I really felt I could relax and unburden myself. Do you know what I mean?’
Megan thought back to that caravan holiday in Weymouth with Rob. As a child she hadn’t been further than northern France.
‘I’m thinking somewhere warm, with beaches and fresh air, and foreign food and handsome waiters.’
‘Oh, that’s sweet of you to think of me, Wanda, but I don’t want to be a third wheel. I’m sure you and Bill would have more fun without me.’
‘Oh, Bill won’t be coming, silly. No, he’s far too busy with work. I meant you and I would have a holiday away. Like a girlie week somewhere. Just the two of us.’
Megan tried to focus on her breathing again. ‘I don’t think beaches and wheelchairs go well together, and besides, you don’t want the hassle of having to shepherd my luggage around and me restricting where and when you can go somewhere
. Listen, Wanda, I really do appreciate the offer, but I just don’t think -’
‘I won’t take no for an answer. My mind is made up and you know what I’m like when that happens. It’s going to be my treat, so all you’ll have to do is pack. It’s the least I can do, after all we would have been sisters-in-law, and I know Rob would want me to take care of you.’
Megan still wasn’t sure, but found herself reluctantly agreeing to consider the idea.
‘I’ll pop round when I’ve got some brochures,’ Wanda said gleefully, ‘and we can choose a destination and swanky hotel where we’ll both be happy. Oh, it’s going to be so much fun!’
Megan couldn’t fault her sister-in-law’s determination, but couldn’t see how the two of them alone in some foreign climate wouldn’t result in one wanting to push the other down a flight of stairs.
Hanging up the phone, Megan reached for the leaflet Dr Marshall had given her and began to read what she was supposed to do to relieve the growing pain in her head. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath.
THIRTY-FIVE
Lying naked on the bed, her head rested on his outstretched arm, the bed sheets lost somewhere on the floor, neither spoke for several minutes. But Isabella eventually sat upright, wincing as she did, and headed to the en suite. A moment later Jake heard the shower taps in full flow and knew the moment had passed.
The smell of her perfume and sweat remained in the air, or was permeating from his own body, he couldn’t tell which. He hadn’t done anything wrong: making love to his wife, the woman he’d fathered a child with, was perfectly natural. So why did he feel so guilty about it?
Jake had never cheated on any woman he’d been in a relationship with; he didn’t have that cheater’s wandering eye, nor the desire to lie and manipulate those around him. But he imagined, the self-loathing and regret pinching his every nerve, was what cheaters experienced in the post-coital throes of passion. He wondered if Isabella was also feeling weird about the encounter. After all, it wasn’t like she had attempted to cuddle or speak after they had climaxed and collapsed into their respective spots on the bed. Whatever she was thinking in this moment, he was blind to it as the shower’s waters washed every trace of their encounter from her body.
Maybe the guilt stemmed from the fact that he should have been working the case, trying to identify what had motivated Charles Xavier to drive his Jaguar into the lake in New Milton. He knew that wasn’t what was irking, but used it as an excuse to escape the room.
Pushing himself up, Jake scooped up his pile of sweat-stained clothes and carried them through to the spare room, dumping them on the carpet. It didn’t feel right to put them back on. Instead he found a fresh shirt and trousers in the cupboard and swiftly dressed. The sound of the shower continued to echo around the walls upstairs as he headed down and out of the door. Even as he started the engine, he couldn’t escape the feeling that he should have left Isabella some kind of note.
Traffic was light as Jake made his way towards the police station, swiping his pass at the security barrier and heading to the car park beneath the main building. The Major Investigation Team was up on the fourth floor, but that wasn’t where he was heading. At some point he would need to meet up with DS Waverley, but Jake wanted to do it on neutral territory, away from prying eyes and ears. Jake still didn’t agree with Tosh’s choice of partner for him, but now wasn’t the time to raise those concerns.
Jake knocked twice and waited for the door to be opened.
‘DS Knight, to what do we owe this pleasure?’ Inspector Phil Buckley said, loud enough for the rest of the control room to here.
Jake looked over Buckley’s shoulder and nodded at the fascinated glances of the three uniformed officers with headsets strapped to their ears. Buckley closed the door and began to move along the corridor, with Jake just behind him, before stopping at the small kitchen, not much larger than a changing cubicle.
‘Tea?’ Buckley offered, as he filled the kettle at the small sink.
‘No, thanks,’ Jake replied, leaning against the door, and waiting for Buckley’s full attention.
‘Seriously, what are you doing down these parts? MIT no longer interesting you? Not sure I want a hothead like you back in uniform. I heard what happened with McGregor. I wish I’d been there to see it. I’d have held him down for you.’ He snorted to show he didn’t mean any offence.
Buckley and Jake had joined Hampshire Constabulary at the same time, and had become good friends during training at Hamble, but while Jake had decided to pursue a career in CID, Buckley had stayed in uniform and had progressed to Sergeant and subsequently Inspector faster than Jake. Not that there was any animosity between the men. Each knew the others’ strengths and having both witnessed the other’s post-alcohol antics, their bond was forged in more than just the mutual respect they shared.
‘I’m looking for one of your team who spoke to a witness about the Enfield suicide this morning,’ Jake said. ‘From what DCI Toshack told me, the witness saw Rita at some support group or something?’
Buckley was nodding, his hair prematurely grey, but his pointy chin clean-shaven to within an inch of its life. ‘That’s right. Mike Durridge spoke to her I think. What’s this about? I hadn’t heard that MIT were taking an interest in Rita Enfield’s final leap.’
‘We’re not, well not exactly. It’s something I’m working for the local division in New Milton. Another probable suicide, this one happened late on Sunday. But it’s possible he attended the same support group as Rita. I was hoping to get the details of the witness to see whether she could remember seeing him there.’
‘Mike’s out on a call at the moment, but I can fish out the witness’s name and address for you if you like. Not that I think she’ll be much help to you.’
‘Why not?’
‘According to her statement, yesterday was the first and only meeting she’d attended, and she didn’t stay until the end. When did you say your guy died?’
‘Sunday we think. Would you mind grabbing the details for me anyway?’
The kettle clicked as it reached boiling point, and Jake watched as Buckley poured the steaming water into his mug, before swishing the tea bag around, and adding milk from a plastic bottle in the small fridge next to the sink.
‘This way,’ Buckley said, leading the way back along the corridor, but going past the control room they arrived at his office. Heading in, he indicated for Jake to take a seat across the desk, while he sat down and unlocked his computer.
Jake reached for the photo frame on the edge of the desk. ‘How is Steph? Chemo finished yet?’
Buckley’s wife, Steph, had been diagnosed with leukaemia late last year and had been undergoing treatment since just after Christmas.
Buckley didn’t look up. ‘About halfway through. She has good days and bad. It takes a lot out of her, and whenever she’s out and about she’s got to be wary of anyone with obvious colds.’
Jake returned the frame to its place on the desk, feeling bad for not visiting Steph since the diagnosis. The Buckleys had been unable to conceive children of their own, a situation that neither had handled well, but which had seemingly brought them closer together, rather than dividing them.
‘How’s your Gabby getting on at school?’ Buckley asked, his fingers busy at the keyboard.
‘She loves it. Doing really well.’ It wasn’t the time or the place to mention the concerns Gabby’s teacher had raised this morning.
‘Here we go,’ Buckley said, turning the monitor so Jake could see the report page on the screen. ‘Name Megan Hopkirk, lives in Lordshill.’
Jake copied the address into his notebook, as Buckley’s eyes darted over the screen.
‘Says here that she – Miss Hopkirk that is – was invited to the group by her psychiatrist Dr Vijay Patel. His office is listed as Bursledon, but according to Mike’s update, he phoned the Dr, but apparently Rita wasn’t one of his patients. Apparently, although he runs the support group, attendees can come from
all walks of life, not just patient referrals. Seems Rita could have just as easily wandered in off the street.’
Which also meant that Charles Xavier could have done the same, but Jake made a note of the psychiatrist’s details too to check whether Xavier was a patient.
‘What did the doctor say about the witness? She’s not going to come at me with a weapon when I knock on her door is she?’
The two men chuckled, as Jake stood, pocketing the notebook in the same movement.
‘You and Isabella should come by for some dinner soon,’ Buckley said. ‘I’m sure Steph would enjoy that.’
‘Sure,’ Jake said. ‘We should get something pencilled in soon.’ He didn’t know how to tell his friend about the issues with Isabella. He wasn’t even sure where they stood after what had happened less than an hour earlier.
THIRTY-SIX
Putting her key in the door, Megan felt relieved to be home. Back to a place that promised protection and warmth, even if it didn’t always deliver. But as soon as the door closed, the room was pitched into darkness. Megan felt along the wall for the light switch, knowing it should be there but finding nothing but a sticky goo that instantly attached itself to every sinew of her fingers and palms.
What was that?
She moved her hand closer to her face, hoping her eyes would adjust sufficiently to the darkness to see, but all she could see was black. Carefully sniffing her hand, the substance smelt familiar, metallic almost, but as she wiped her hand on her trousers, no amount of friction seemed capable of removing the stain.
Where the bloody hell was the light switch?
She tentatively moved forwards, thrusting her arms out ahead of her, feeling in the darkness for anything familiar that would tell her how far she’d progressed. The air grew cooler, as she continued onwards, until her fingers finally touched on a large object; a lamp shade, she deduced, and as she ran her hands along the material, she finally found the switch in the neck of the lamp’s stand, and flicked it on.
Déjà Vu Page 18
