The Mistake

by K. L. Slater

  She inwardly cursed Jim’s blatant interfering. This was all she needed.

  ‘Glad I caught you, pet.’ He pushed the flowers towards her, beaming. ‘How’s your Billy, the little tike?’

  ‘He’s fine, thanks, Jim,’ she said weakly.

  ‘Tell him to pop round when he has a minute, his Auntie Janice would love to see him, find out what mischief he’s been up to.’

  ‘I’ll tell him,’ she said, then, glancing at the bouquet, she shook her head. ‘Thanks, Jim, but I don’t want them.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘The flowers. Why don’t you take them home to Janice?’ She smiled and touched his shoulder. ‘See you next week.’

  As she turned the corner she glanced back to see Jim still standing there, watching her with interest.

  42

  SIXTEEN YEARS EARLIER

  ‘Did you sort Gareth out then, love?’ Her father’s booming voice carried over the television when Rose looked in the living room to say hello.

  She coughed to save her having to reply and her mother looked up from her magazine.

  ‘Yesterday, I mean,’ Ray continued. ‘When you came over to the site?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Rose said, busying herself by burrowing into her bag. ‘It’s all sorted now.’

  ‘Gareth’s got a bit of a soft spot for our Rose, you know.’ He winked at Stella. ‘Always asking how she is, where she’s been and who she’s hanging out with.’

  ‘Dad!’

  ‘I’m just saying. He’s a lovely lad, is Gareth. Wouldn’t mind him as a son-in-law, even.’

  Rose’s cheeks flushed.

  ‘Now, Ray, he’s far too old for her.’ Stella rolled her eyes at her daughter. ‘She needs a nice lad who’s around her own age. Right, Rose?’

  ‘I’m going up to my room,’ she murmured, backing out of the doorway. ‘I’ve got some preparation to do for college tomorrow.’

  Upstairs, she passed Billy, playing with his cars on the landing.

  ‘Come to my room, Billy.’ She ruffled his hair as she walked by.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I want to talk to you for a minute, that’s all.’

  Billy followed her and sat on the end of her bed. He looked pale and tired. Rose wondered if he was having trouble sleeping.

  ‘So, how’re things with you, little man?’

  ‘OK, I suppose.’ Billy shrugged, picking at his grubby nails.

  Rose sighed. ‘Billy, I’m really sorry about the other day, letting Gareth get away with being so horrible to us. And I’m sorry I asked you not to say anything to Mum and Dad, it wasn’t fair of me.’

  ‘S’alright,’ he mumbled.

  ‘It’s really not alright,’ Rose said, sitting next to him and sliding her arm around his bony shoulders. ‘Nobody’s got the right to treat us like that, Billy. Nobody. That’s why I’ve told Gareth I never want to see him again.’

  ‘But I didn’t think he was your proper boyfriend, anyway.’ Billy scowled up at her. ‘You said you were just helping him out with stuff, like Dad does on site.’

  Rose winced, pushed the lie away.

  ‘None of that matters now,’ she said. ‘The main thing is, he won’t be getting in the way of us doing stuff together anymore.’

  ‘What shall I do about coming downstairs?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Gareth told me I’m not allowed downstairs if he comes round to the house when Mum and Dad are out.’

  ‘He said that?’ She pressed her hand to her mouth. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Because he said if I told you then Dad wouldn’t be able to help out with Gareth’s project any more. But now you don’t like him anymore I suppose I can tell you.’

  Rose gulped in air and swallowed down what felt like a hairball in her throat.

  What on earth had she done to all of their lives by getting involved with Gareth Farnham?

  The next day after college, Rose boarded the bus for home, rapidly blinking her increasingly watery eyes.

  She missed Cassie so much. Their falling out had never existed, so far as Rose was concerned. She only remembered all the laughs, all the good times they’d had together on the course.

  People had tried asking Rose exactly what had happened to Cassie.

  Rumours were rife at college and nobody was quite sure what had happened. The local newspaper had reported a young woman had been attacked but no further details had been given. So Rose became a popular target at lunchtime for enquiries as to Cassie’s wellbeing and concerned but searching questions about the attack.

  She had a stock reaction. ‘Cassie has asked me to thank everyone for their concern but police have asked her not to disclose details of the incident yet.’

  She felt quite proud of that response, which she’d thought of herself. It made Cassie still sound very much her best friend.

  As she passed on her friend’s ‘message’ several times over lunch, Rose had felt certain things would be back on track between them soon, particularly when she confessed to Cassie that she’d been right about Gareth Farnham all along.

  And then Vicky Sparkes had approached her just as everyone poured out of the building. Vicky was part of the small group that Cassie had begun to hang around with after they’d had their disagreement.

  ‘Hey, Rose,’ Vicky called. Rose turned to face her. She felt hypnotised by a small, white ball of gum flicking over and under the other girl’s tongue. ‘I’ve got a message from Cassie. Stay away from the house.’

  Three other girls, part of Vicky’s group, sauntered up and gathered around her. Their belligerent attitude drew interested glances from passers-by.

  ‘Cassie doesn’t want to see you again. Get it?’ Vicky flicked back her highlighted hair and grinned. Everyone stared at Rose.

  ‘I don’t need you to deliver messages from Cassie,’ Rose said curtly. ‘I can speak to her myself.’

  ‘She’s making out she knows all about what happened to Cassie,’ she turned to tell the others, twirling a piece of hair around her finger. ‘But Cassie won’t have you near her, will she, Rose?’

  ‘Whatever,’ Rose huffed, walking away.

  Vicky shouted something else but Rose couldn’t hear what it was. The rushing noise in her ears was too loud.

  43

  SIXTEEN YEARS EARLIER

  Rose knocked at Cassie’s door and Jed answered.

  Her mother had told her he’d returned home but Carolyn was still worried about him. Carolyn had told Stella he seemed to blame himself for Cassie’s attack.

  ‘She’s in bed,’ he said, staring blankly just above her head.

  ‘I want a quick word with her,’ Rose pleaded, taking a step forward. ‘Please, Jed, just five minutes will do.’

  Jed adjusted his stance so he filled more of the doorway.

  ‘She’s in bed and she left instructions not to be disturbed,’ he said robotically.

  She stared at him but there was no reaction.

  ‘Why is she doing this?’ Rose’s calm countenance slipped. ‘I’ve been her best friend for God knows how many years and she’s treating me like a stranger.’

  He stood stock still, his face impassive.

  ‘Come on, Jed—’ she softened her voice a little ‘—she’s traumatised, it’ll do her no good to stay upstairs on her own. You must be worried about her and I can help, you know I can.’

  ‘Sorry, Rose, you can’t come in.’ He stepped back quickly, closing the door in front of her face.

  She banged on the door in frustration and then turned away, tears of injustice spilling down her face. She understood that Cassie didn’t want to see anyone, but this was her, for goodness sake.

  Their friendship had taken a few knocks recently, mainly because of her relationship with Gareth, and Rose understood more now about what Cassie had been trying to tell her.

  That’s why she just wanted a few minutes alone with her. To tell her she knew now that she’d been right.

  Just a f
ew weeks ago, Cassie would have been asking for Rose as she lay suffering, not turning her away like this.

  They needed each other now more than ever. Cassie was the only person Rose could really confide in.

  Her dad would throttle Gareth if he knew how he’d treated her and Billy, even if in the process he lost the only chance of a secure future he’d had.

  As she walked along Cassie’s street, still smarting from Jed’s abrupt rejection of her, a silver car drove very slowly across the bottom of the road. Rose thought nothing of it, until a couple of minutes later, when it drove past again.

  She was too far away to be able to see the driver but she felt a little unnerved. The road was very quiet. There was no traffic and she hadn’t seen another person walking yet.

  She walked on for a minute or two. The car had gone now and she shook her head, had a little chuckle at her imagination.

  It had probably just been someone who was lost or looking for a particular road. The village could appear to be a warren of winding back streets that all looked the same, if you weren’t familiar with it.

  She reached the bottom of the road and stepped out when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, the car sped towards her. She jumped back from the road onto the pavement and cried out as she slipped and fell, twisting her ankle.

  She tried to get up but it was too painful. She’d have to shuffle back to the wall and use it as a prop to stand.

  Through the pain of her ankle she heard the growl of an engine. She looked up to see the car, on the opposite side now; the driver’s side window was down.

  ‘Hello, Rose,’ Gareth said, getting out of the car.

  She tried to scramble to her feet but she could feel she’d sprained her left ankle. In seconds, Gareth was towering above her.

  ‘I can help you into the car or I can drag you, Rosie,’ he said pleasantly. ‘It makes no odds to me.’

  Rose looked up at him, fearful he could lash out at her at any moment. She had to get to her feet.

  ‘Gareth, we talked about this. We’re not together any more, I don’t—’

  ‘I just want to talk to you. That’s all. Stop making such a big deal about it.’

  She’d managed to lean most of her weight on her good leg. Leaning heavily against the brick wall next to her, she inched her way to standing.

  ‘I can’t talk right now, I have to get back home.’

  He moved fast. One hand pincered her upper arm, the other grabbed a handful of hair. Rose yelped at the pain in her head and ankle as he half-dragged, half-lifted her across the street.

  ‘Stop it,’ she shrieked. ‘Please, just leave me alone!’

  Gareth released her hair and instead clamped his hand over her mouth. She kept screeching but the sound had been reduced to a mere muffled groaning.

  Her eyes scanned the surrounding area wildly but there were no pedestrians or other cars around. Rose prayed that someone was watching, that someone could see something of her struggle from one of the terraced houses that lined the street. The villagers were a nosy lot as a rule and she had never felt more hopeful because of that.

  Nobody knew where she was. Her parents didn’t even know she’d been seeing Gareth or visiting his flat. Her father was blissfully unaware of anything that had been happening, that his future with the project was all but finished.

  And Billy… poor little Billy, who’d sworn to Rose he wouldn’t breathe a word of how Gareth had treated them. It had seemed the right thing to do at the time, to convince him to keep his mouth shut, but now she hoped and prayed he’d spill the beans when she didn’t turn up at home.

  Foolishly, she’d fallen for Gareth’s assertion that they would just be friends. She thought she’d kept him onside.

  Gareth bundled her roughly into the passenger seat and slammed the door. When he stalked around to the driver’s side, she tried to open the door while the car was moving but he’d got some kind of a child lock in place because the handle rattled loose and useless in her fingers.

  When the driver’s door opened, Rose tried to lunge across. Gareth pushed her viciously back into her seat and hit her with the flat of his hand on the side of her head.

  ‘Next time it’ll be my fist, so shut the fuck up.’

  Cowering, she glanced at him out of the corners of her eyes. Both his hands clutched the steering wheel as he hunched forward, eyes wide and staring at the road.

  She didn’t know who this person was any more.

  When the car slowed outside his flat, Gareth turned to look at her.

  ‘We can do this the easy or the hard way,’ he said calmly. ‘I just want to talk to you and then you can go home. I’m leaving the village soon, and if you act sensibly, your dad will still keep his job. I just want a chat, that’s all.’

  She’d planned to scream as loud as she could as soon as he opened the car door but what he said took the air from her lungs.

  If she talked to him, it could still all be alright. Everything could turn out OK for her dad, and Gareth would soon be gone from their lives.

  So she allowed him to help her climb the stairs to the upstairs flat. He seemed quieter now. Laughably, he actually seemed concerned about her again.

  Inside, he settled her on the sofa.

  ‘Back in a mo.’ He smiled before heading for the kitchenette.

  Rose unseeingly stared ahead. There was a dull ache, deep in her core, as the enormity of what she’d done hit her head on.

  She had made such a grave error in trusting this man. She’d helped keep their liaison a secret, coerced Billy into keeping quiet, shut out her family and friends… all the people who cared about her had been lied to, hoodwinked.

  And the worst part was that it had all been done with her knowledge. She’d been a willing party in Gareth Farnham’s deceit.

  A glass of orange cordial appeared in front of her face.

  ‘I suppose your throat feels a bit raw after all that fuss you made out in the street,’ he said.

  Gareth was deluded. Dangerous. She needed to stay calm so he thought everything normal and get this chat over with as soon as possible. Then she needed to get herself safely home.

  She had allowed this situation to go on for far too long; job or no job, it was time to speak to her father.

  She took a deep draft from the glass. The cool, sweet liquid felt such a relief on the rawness of her throat. For a brief moment, the stupid part of her wondered if everything could be alright again, although she knew the answer, of course.

  It wasn’t long at all before she started feeling strange. He said something to her and that’s when she realised there were two Gareths in front of her. As he laughed, his voice sounded slow and distorted.

  She dropped the glass, held out her hands to him. Inside her head, the words formed perfectly, but the sound that came out of her mouth was just one, long, wailing cry.

  44

  SIXTEEN YEARS EARLIER

  Rose woke up and, for a minute or two, she didn’t know where she was.

  The walls were plain white with no pictures. A pulled blind with a leaf print clung to the window. And only the occasional hum of a passing car on the road outside.

  Then it hit her. She was in Gareth’s bed.

  She tried to turn her head but the thumping pain that struck her when she moved, even just a millimetre, was too much. She felt bruised and tender. Everywhere.

  She sensed she was alone in the room and this was proven when the door opened and Gareth walked in with a tray.

  ‘I made you tea and toast,’ he said brightly. ‘Sit up, princess.’

  This isn’t right, the voice in her head said. She knew this man was Gareth Farnham, her ex-boyfriend… but she couldn’t remember how she got here. In this room.

  And why was she in his bed?

  She searched her memories but it felt as if someone had used an eraser inside her mind and scrubbed everything away.

  She opened her mouth to speak but her tongue lay swelled and listless, refusing to form
any words.

  Gareth helped her sit up in bed and she cried out with the pain in her head.

  ‘Take two paracetamols,’ he said, matter-of-factly, shaking the foil pack in front of her.

  She looked down and gasped. She was completely naked. She reached for the sheet and pulled it over herself.

  Gareth laughed. ‘Bit late for that, I’ve seen it all. And more. Got the evidence, too.’

  He walked out of the room and she closed her eyes against the rampaging headache.

  A flash of memory… speaking to Jed at Cassie’s door.

  She opened her eyes and heard a screech of brakes… Gareth’s car across the road.

  Rose reached for the mug from the tray and took a sip of tea and the next memory bite slid smoothly into her mind’s eye… fighting and struggling to get away from Gareth’s firm grasp… being forced into the car… and then…

  45

  ROSE

  PRESENT DAY

  I run out of Mike North’s apartment block. And I mean run.

  A woman and her small son enter the block and seeing me, stand aside, their mouths falling open with alarm. I crash down the stairs and stumble out into the fresh air.

  Mike’s dreaded words echo in my head: I was never one hundred per cent certain we had the right man.

  There are so many feelings swirling about in my mind I can’t identify them. All I know is that together they make me feel like running away and hiding in a small, dark place.

  But my years of therapy are kicking in. Gaynor would never have let me get away with simply saying I don’t know how I felt. She taught me to stand back and observe myself, to unpick each tangled rope of emotion, however painful.

  So, when I get into the car, I sit for a moment and I do just that.

  Anger.

  It’s taken me completely by surprise that I feel so angry at Mike. But if he had doubts at the time of the investigation, then why didn’t he flag it up? He had a responsibility to us, to Billy… to himself… to uncover the truth and ensure justice was done.