Michael had got a job and moved to the city. He came back to see the children on the weekends. He and Toni hadn't lasted very long. Apparently, he’d caught her in bed with her Jamaican neighbour. This, I must admit, cheered me up whenever I was feeling low.
We couldn't file for a divorce just yet, although we agreed I would buy him out of the house and keep all the furniture. He'd taken his personal belongings, and as far as I was concerned the house was a much happier place without him.
We made a few changes at home to fit in our new family member. The computer desk now lived in my bedroom and Jacob moved into the former study, which freed up a decent-sized room for Mary. We were in current negotiations about its décor. She had very definite ideas about what she wanted—something she had undoubtedly inherited from me.
The children adapted well to all the changes. They adored their new cousin and she loved them to bits.
I, on the other hand, no longer felt the dread I'd come to believe was part of being a parent. I could allow the children space to grow without feeling I had to supervise every move they made. I’d enrolled them both into full-time day-care and now enjoyed the quality time I got to spend with Mary.
Walking away from the court, I felt lighter than I had in ages. All the weight I'd carried over the years had somehow lifted.
I glanced downward and a gaunt little face looked back up at me. "Shall we get an ice-cream, honey?" I asked.
"Yes, please, Auntie," Mary replied.
"We should celebrate. You are happy about this, aren't you?"
Mary nodded, the small smile on her lips not reaching her eyes.
"Maybe happy is the wrong word under the circumstances, but you know what I mean, don't you? They said you can live with us forever. That is what you want, isn't it?"
"Yes. I love being with you and my cousins."
She did seem to be coming to terms with her new life. However, I knew it would take her a long time to fully accept the loss of her mum. She still had no idea why her dad had left or about the murders. I knew she would have to know one day, but not yet.
As Mary and I reached the car park, my phone tinkled in my bag. I stopped walking and dug around for it.
You have 1 new message
Congratulations! Big hugs to my two favourite girls — A :)
I hugged the phone to my chest. My eyes filled with tears as I turned on the spot, scanning the area.
"What's wrong? Why are you crying, Auntie?"
"Nothing, sweetheart, nothing at all." I dropped to my knees and pulled her into my arms.
"I'm just happy, that's all. Really, really happy."
The End
Positively
Murder
Netta Newbound
Junction Publishing
New Zealand
Copyright © 2014 by Netta Newbound.
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An Impossible Dilemma/Netta Newbound. -- 1st ed.
ISBN 978-0-473-30821-6
Chapter 1
When I first found out my husband was HIV positive, I returned home, changed into my work clothes and left for my evening shift at the supermarket.
Gavin hadn't said much—what could he possibly say? His stricken grey face told me how devastated he felt.
He'd reached for my hand in the clinic, but I snatched it away, no longer able to look at him, never mind have his dirty rotten paws touch me ever again.
I got through the evening on automatic pilot, smiling when necessary, asking the customers about their day, and discussing the weather—the usual chitchat.
But under the surface, my stomach twirled and my head spun.
I hadn’t a clue what to expect when I got home. Would Gavin have had the decency to pack his stuff and get the hell out of the house? There would be no denying his infidelity now.
As an insurance salesman, Gavin often stayed away from home. I'd had the odd niggling suspicion he might be up to something over the years, but nothing solid. He’d always been the perfect husband; handsome, funny, attentive and sensitive, as well as an excellent father to our daughters, Yvonne and Stella.
On the surface, he portrayed the image of an all-round good guy.
The beeping of the checkout scanner soothed my taut and fragile nerves. The motion of passing each item over the top with a smile on my face calmed me in a strange, yet familiar way.
"Are you all right, chickadee?" Gabby, the store manager, asked as we cashed up for the night.
"Fine." I smiled—aware she would be able to see through my fake grin.
"Are you sure?" She narrowed her twinkling hazel eyes and cocked her head.
"Of course I'm sure, just tired that's all."
Gabby gave an upward nod, and then, with a shrug and another squinty-eyed stare, let it go.
I often walked to work, I enjoyed the exercise. Tonight, every step homeward, through the familiar Surrey streets, tortured me with fear and uncertainty.
Would he have dared to stay? Would I have to throw him out?
The thought of life without Gavin tore my heart to shreds.
Having to face him, to find out all the sordid details of his affair, or indeed affairs, sent adrenaline coursing through my already frazzled veins.
As I rounded the corner, my eyes darted to the space where Gavin always parked his Camry, and my heart sank.
It was empty.
Tremors engulfed my whole body. My legs became heavy and unresponsive and I didn't know if they would carry me the final twenty feet to the front door. Would I fall in a heap to the footpath instead?
All of a sudden, headlights lit up the row of houses in front of me. Gavin's familiar blue vehicle turned the corner and parked.
I inhaled, giving myself a mental shake. The twirling in my stomach made me want to throw up, and I'd never before experienced such a monstrous jangling sensation throughout my whole nervous system.
Gavin stepped from the vehicle and glanced at me sideways, clearly unsure of how I would react. Thirty years together had taught us how to communicate in silence, to read each other’s body language and facial expressions to perfection.
"I've been to pick you up," he said. "Gabby said I'd just missed you."
I nodded, digging my keys out of my handbag.
"Melissa?"
I lifted my head and glared at him, deep into his beautiful, vivid blue eyes, and the coward looked away.
I opened the front door and entered the semi-detached, dormer bungalow we'd called home for the best part of twenty-nine years. We'd bought it as newlyweds, after squirrelling every last penny away until we had enough for a deposit.
Gavin had just started out in sales at the time and Reliance, the insurance company he still worked for, had been good to us over the years.
However, working for them meant Gavin had to stay away for part of the month.
To be honest, I always welcomed the break and enjoyed the tales of his travels when he got home. Gavin had the ability to create a fantastic story out of the mundane. In a way, I'd put the success of our marriage down to his frequent excursions.
I kicked off my shoes and hung my jacket on the hook by the door, then slipped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.
Once my breathing to return to normal, I unfastened my navy-blue tabard and threw it into the washing basket before using the toilet.
Whilst washing my hands, I scrutinised my reflection in the mirror above the sink.
I didn't look bad for fifty-three years of age. There were a few fine lines, which tripled around my clear, grey eyes when I smiled, but didn't everybody over thirty have them?
Although naturally curvy, I fought hard to keep my body in shape. I never failed to visit my hairdresser at least once a month and although cut short, my white-grey hair shone with health.
Maybe that was the reason.
I'd made the decision to go grey six months ago, after years battling with hair dye. It took me a while to get used to the change and now I preferred it, but maybe Gavin thought it aged me.
I no longer bothered to dress in sophisticated clothing, opting instead for flat shoes, a comfortable t-shirt and leggings. There wasn't much call for power suits and stiletto heels in the supermarket. I knew Gavin worked with some very attractive young women who, by his own admission, were eager to advance their careers in any way necessary. Obviously the temptation had been too great.
I walked through to the kitchen.
Gavin stood at the sink filling the kettle. "I'll make us a coffee, shall I?"
I wanted to launch myself at him, to scratch my nails down his cheeks, tear every last neat and tidy hair out of his neat and tidy head, and scream into his face that I didn't want a damn coffee.
Instead, I said nothing. I fought to control my breathing, and sat at the dining table where we'd solved many a problem over the years.
My legs shook. My breath, so shallow, hardly reached my lungs and I thought I might pass out. Maybe a coffee would do me good. Nothing had passed my lips since lunchtime, and it was now almost 10pm.
Gavin placed two steaming mugs on the table and sat opposite me, his gaunt face another reminder of our predicament.
He'd been out of sorts for weeks, lethargic, and had lost a substantial amount of weight.
Worried out of my mind, I'd made the doctor’s appointment. My father had deteriorated in a similar way and he'd been riddled with cancer.
Harold Collins had been our doctor for years; we'd even raised our families together, and we considered him a loyal friend. He gave Gavin a thorough examination, carrying out all the standard health checks for diabetes, cholesterol and heart disease. The initial tests showed up nothing concrete, so Gavin insisted the doctor test for everything.
When the first HIV results came back, Doctor Collins explained how, sometimes, other conditions can cross-react to produce a false positive. Then he'd sent more blood to the lab for further testing.
Harold hadn't seemed concerned, so neither was I. When the results came back, the findings floored me.
Thinking about it now, Gavin must have known, especially after the initial test results. He didn't appear shocked—more concerned with my reaction.
Harold struggled to meet my gaze when he took my blood, which now needed testing. He'd arranged for us to see an HIV specialist tomorrow afternoon, who would explain the next steps and answer any questions.
Any questions—what a joke. I had one huge, burning question. How the hell does a man, who has been married for thirty odd years, test HIV positive?
I couldn't look at him. All kinds of questions ran through my mind. Had he known? How long had it been going on and with how many women?
We'd never be able to put this right. This wasn't just a case of infidelity, although an affair alone would be enough to rock the most steadfast of marriages. This was HIV! No known cure and no way of turning the clock back.
I knew the basics about HIV. That it's contracted through unprotected sex, sharing needles or blood transfusions and eventually it will develop into AIDS. I'd seen a couple of grim movies which left me emotionally bereft for days afterwards. The girls had been given the obvious lectures over the years but, other than that, I never needed to know more.
I'd never met anybody with HIV or AIDS—would never have wanted to for fear of them contaminating me somehow. Yet here we were, my own husband infected with the deadly virus and a huge probability I'd been infected too.
I raced to the sink and retched. Nothing would come up, but it felt as though a solid lump had lodged in my throat. I struggled to breathe.
I splashed my face with cold water before a rush of hot, salty tears washed down my face.
Suddenly behind me, Gavin pulled me into his arms. "Mel. I'm so sorry, Mel."
I closed my eyes, cherishing the familiar feel and scent of him. I always felt safest in his arms, always thought he'd protect me and the girls with every fibre of his being. Not this. Never this.
The blood pounded in my ears, and with a guttural roar I shoved him backwards, lashing out at him, slapping at his chest and his face.
"Get off me! Get off me!" I screamed. "Leave me alone!"
He grabbed my hands before they could do any real damage, gripping them in his stronger ones, before pulling me to his chest again where he held me tight until all the fight had left me.
My tears subsided and I slid to the cold, terracotta floor tiles.
Gavin joined me and we sat in silence for what seemed like an age, moving only when the pins and needles in my legs forced me to. I got to my feet and walked into the lounge.
Gavin followed soon after and perched on the arm of my chair.
"Mel, I'm sorry. You must be so shocked."
"But not you?" I glared at him. Angry tears pricked my eyes.
He shook his head. "I had my suspicions. Didn't want to admit it, but I've had a niggling doubt for a while now."
"Who is she?"
"Does any of that matter?"
"Are you stupid? Of course it matters. Do you even know?"
He shook his head again. "No."
The tightness in my chest made it even harder to breathe. Hand on my head, I bent forward and balanced my elbow on my knee to stop my hand shaking so much. I took several deep breaths exhaling in controlled blows.
"How long?"
"Mel, I …"
"How long?" I yelled. "How long have you been making a mockery of me, of our marriage? How long?"
"It's not what you think. I'm not having an affair. I've only ever loved you, had a relationship with you. Mel, you must believe me."
"How long?" I said, through gritted teeth, my voice quieter now.
"On and off, all the time."
"Our entire marriage?" My whole body stiffened. "And I never suspected. How can I be so stupid?" I shook my head, feeling as though my brain might explode.
"It never meant anything—just sex."
"It never meant anything?" I repeated his words, shaking my head. "You might die. I might die, and you say it never meant anything!"
"They have medication now. We'll be able to lead a relatively normal life. No one need ever know."
"I'd know. Do you honestly think things can go back the way they were? Carry on as normal? Our marriage, the marriage I've held dear my whole adult life, the marriage that gave me our two beautiful daughters …" The breath caught in my throat and goose-pimples covered my entire body.
"The girls …? Oh my God, what if they—?"
"No. It's impossible. The virus needs to be passed with blood."
"But what if you had it before they were born?"
"If I'd been infected twenty odd years ago I would be dead by now. Think about what you're saying for Christ's sake, woman." He got to his feet and strode to the window, sh
aking his head.
I wasn't sure how long someone could have HIV and still lead a symptom-free life. The thought he'd given my children a death sentence filled me with abhorrence. I knew I should feel the same about him putting my life at risk, but I could cope with that so long as my girls were safe.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
He turned and crouched beside me. "I swear to you, Mel. The girls will not be affected, not directly anyway."
A numb feeling descended over me. "Why, Gavin? I thought we had a good marriage."
He straightened up and sat back on the arm of my chair. "It's nothing to do with our marriage. We've had a perfect marriage."
"Then why? I don't understand," I whispered.
"Why do you think? Sex. Just sex."
"We have sex. Okay, maybe not as often as we used to, but still …"
"We make love, Mel, and it's beautiful, I wouldn't change a thing. But I sometimes need the excitement of straight-out sex with a stranger. I'm able to be totally selfish, as rough as I like, as dirty as I like. I couldn't ask you to do these things. I love you, you're my wife."
I shook my head again, trying hard to understand yet clearly missing the point. "I'd do anything for you—would try at least. I'm not a prude, and who knows I might have even liked it."
"They meant nothing—faceless strangers, nothing more."
"Except they weren't, were they? They were riddled with a deadly virus. Doesn't seem quite so meaningless when you put it that way, does it? Why didn't you wear a condom?"
"I did.” He shrugged. “Sometimes."
I couldn't believe his casual attitude. We could be discussing a shopping list for all the emotion he showed. I leapt to my feet, causing the armchair to tilt.
Gavin tottered and almost fell to the floor, but steadied himself just in time.
Standing in the middle of the lounge, my hands pressed to my cheeks, I stared at him. "You make me sick!" I spat the words out. Tears filled my eyes once again. "It's basic self-preservation. Everyone uses condoms nowadays."
Psychological Thriller Series: Adam Stanley Boxed Set: Behind Shadows, Positively Murder and Mind Bender Page 23
