Belonging: Two hearts, two continents, one all-consuming passion. (Victoria in Love Book 1)

by Isabella Wiles

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Vicky.”

  “Absolutely, Chris. Absolutely.” He squeezes my waist in mutual understanding but there is no way Chris could possibly appreciate the significance of the visit from the butterfly, or how I feel. How could he?

  My mind flashes back to the very first night after he arrived when I watched him sleeping on the sofa at Wootton Bassett. Drawn in by his power and masculinity. The beautiful sleeping tiger. Gorgeous and dangerous in equal amounts. Even back then I sensed that once I fell into the tiger’s powerful grasp, it would be impossible to break free. Despite this, I still remember the overwhelming desire I had to reach out and trace the outline of his beautiful face with my fingers.

  So how could he possibly know that as I stand in front of the fire, watching the last few embers engulf the remains of the plastic tube, knowing that I have released the soul of my unborn child, it’s spirit painted with its father’s markings, that I would at last be free.

  Standing together, his arm still wrapped tenderly around my waist we finally give in to the silent tears of both regret and mutual forgiveness that roll down our cheeks before dropping unhindered off the end of our chins, as we watch the beautiful creature disappear into the ether and a feeling of peace descends over us both.

  Ten days later back in Christchurch, Chris is busy dealing with his shipment that has just landed but not yet cleared customs. There are major problems with the paperwork and with the stock. Two of the cars have been damaged in transit, so now he is battling with the freight handling company to prove liability and claim insurance. I’ve offered my help, but he prefers to deal with all of his business stuff on his own.

  Since our camp in the North Island, I feel a renewed energy. A calm strength and inner peace. Chris’s moods still flip flop between the two extremes of powerful passion and moody grumpiness but at least his mood swings are having less effect on me, and I fill my days much like I did the first time I visited Christchurch. Alongside the domesticity of cooking and keeping house, I fill my time by swimming in the morning, then reading and sunbathing in the afternoon, or walking along the River Avon to Victoria Park.

  This morning, as usual, I was the first to wake. Padding quietly out of the room so as not to wake Chris, I creep down the internal corridor to take a shower. Freshly washed, damp hair falling over my shoulders, my towel wrapped around my body like a toga, I return to the bedroom to find Chris sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for me. I can tell instantly from the glint in his eye what he wants, but I’m newly washed and not in the mood.

  “Come here you,” he says, pulling me into him. His hard-on visibly straining for freedom from his boxer shorts.

  “Chris, no.” I attempt to wriggle free from his grip. “I’ve just showered and I’m all clean.”

  “I know. You smell gorgeous.” He sweeps my hair out of the way and nibbles my neck roughly.

  The last time we made love was back up in the Coromandel on New Year’s Eve. We had to be super quiet on account of the children, but whether that was the reason, it forced Chris to take things really slow. It was the first time since I can’t remember when, where I felt he actually wanted me and not just my body. It was lovely, and I know he also felt the connection. Whereas now, right now, I could just be any old slab of meat and he would shag them anyway. He’s simply woken up horny and I happen to be there… or at least that’s how it feels.

  “No, Chris. I said I don’t want to.”

  He grabs me round my waist and picks me up, throwing me brutishly onto the bed. My towel falls open leaving me naked and exposed as he kneels over the top of me.

  “And I said I do.”

  “Chris, get off me. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  “Trying to make love to you - isn’t it obvious?” he jokes.

  “Chris, for the last time, I SAID I DON’T WANT TO!” I scream, my hands pressed flat against his bare chest trying to push him off me. In one swift moment, he grabs both my wrists and pins them down against each side of my head as I struggle in vain.

  “Come on, Vicky. Loosen up, will ya?” He says inches away from my face, before leaning in and half-kissing, half-licking the side of my face, and instantly I’m back in Istanbul. I’m in danger and the man in front of me has the opportunity to use physical force to overpower me.

  NO MORE! NEVER AGAIN! My internal voice roars inside my head causing my survival instinct to kick in, just as it did back in Istanbul, saving Melanie and myself from the two Turkish guys. Adrenaline flashes in my eyes as I look Chris dead straight in the face.

  “GET THE FUCK OFF ME!” I scream at him, spittle gathering in the corners of my mouth. Mustering all of my strength I’m able to roll us both over so that he is now on his back. Off balance, he loosens his grip and I escape. Once free, I run naked to the bathroom and lock the door. The pounding of my heart hammering in my chest, causing my head to pound like a pneumatic drill inside my skull and my short, shallow breaths burn in the back of my throat.

  I hear Chris thrash around his bedroom, swearing profusely. A few minutes later the sound of the front door slamming hard reverberates through the house, followed by the sound of the car wheels spinning as he pulls off the drive.

  Very calmly and with absolute clarity, I dress quickly, walk purposefully towards the telephone in the kitchen. Clasping my left hand around my grandfather’s necklace, hoping he can send me the strength I need to follow through with my decision, I pick up the receiver with my right hand and make four phone calls in quick succession. As if powered by some outer force I walk numbly back to the bedroom, retrieve my rucksack from on top of the wardrobe and pack up my things.

  Chapter 25

  Chris

  One week later

  “Aaaah,” another primeval scream leaves my body as I realise for the seventh day in a row that this hideous nightmare is not just a dream and I have to live through another day without her.

  Every time I wake, I turn my head hoping upon hope to see Vicky’s beautiful sleeping face lying on the pillow next to me, yet the pillow remains empty and the physical stabbing in my gut returns with a vengeance, causing me to scream out loud from the pain. I’m unable to function and I’ve not left the house for a week.

  The place is a shit tip, strewn with dirty takeaway cartons, beer cans and discarded spliffs. I’ve not even had the motivation to wash or shave since she disappeared. All I want to do is curl up and literally die.

  I was so fucking angry that day, stormed out without a backward glance, but I never expected to come home and discover her gone. My brain just can’t comprehend that she’s actually left. I tore through the house like a madman looking for clues, just as I did the night before she went to the clinic. Only this time she didn’t call. This time I haven’t found her. I thought after our moment round the campfire and making love afterwards, we were back on the same page. Moving forward together finally. But now it appears Vicky was moving forward, just not with me beside her.

  I know I shouldn’t have pinned her down that day. I would never have physically forced myself on her. I just thought if we could make love, we would keep that fragile connection alive. But I realise now I went too far. She must have been terrified. But to disappear without warning and without giving me the opportunity to explain or apologise… I just can’t process it.

  No one knows where she’s gone. I’ve called everyone I know and no one’s heard anything. I can only assume that she jumped on the first flight out of Christchurch to anywhere and has made her way back to the UK. I tried calling the airlines and asking for details of their passenger lists, but because I’m not her legal next of kin they won’t release the information.

  Even though it’s past lunchtime I turn over, wanting to fall back to sleep again, anything to disappear into oblivion and away from this pain. The black velvet ring box which she doesn’t even know I have, the secret I’ve been keeping, waiting for the perfect moment that never came, stares back at me from where I�
��ve placed it on top of her pillow. Why did I wait? What was stopping me? I have so many regrets, so many things I would change or do differently if I had the opportunity again. What I would give to turn the clock back.

  As I lie in my pit, wallowing in self-pity and remorse, and desperate for sleep to consume me I hear the ding-dong of the front door bell which wrenches me back into the present.

  I hastily pull on a stained t-shirt, the remnants of one of the takeaway curries smeared down the front. I must stink to high heaven, but I don’t care.

  I open the door and see Dad standing there.

  “Hello, son,” he says. “Can I come in? I have a feeling my son needs his father,” and I collapse gratefully into his arms.

  An hour later, after Dad has packed me off to the bathroom to shower and shave while he cleans up the mess all around me, he passes me a warm cup of tea and we sit at the kitchen table together.

  “So what’s been going on?” he asks.

  “Oh, Dad. I’ve been such a fool,” I weep hopelessly.

  “How so?”

  “I love so her damn much, but I’ve taken her for granted so many times. It’s all my fault. I’ve pushed her away and now I’ve got what I deserve.”

  “No one person is ever to blame in these situations, son.”

  “That maybe so, but I think I lost her a long time ago, only now she’s finally left.”

  “It’s never over until the fat lady sings. I don’t know whether this is the end for you and Vicky, or if it’s just a temporary blip, but one thing I do know for sure, is that hiding away with the curtains drawn and hoping it will all disappear will not change a damn thing.”

  “I do know that, Dad,” my tears coming thick and fast now. “She was the best thing that has ever happened to me, but I never felt good enough for her. I never felt I deserved her. How could someone as amazing as Vicky ever love me? An unrefined hustler with only one eye for fuck’s sake.”

  “And I don’t suppose you ever shared any of this with her?” Dad places his hand on top of mine as he gives me his moral support.

  “Don’t be daft. Give her more reasons to not love me?”

  “I think you’re missing the point, son. If she can’t love you for the whole person you are… accept you, warts and all, then she’s not deserving of you and vice versa.”

  “The thing is. I don’t think I really gave her that chance. I would run for the hills whenever things got tough, so it’s completely ironic that she’s now run out on me.” I can hardly speak. Moisture and snot escaping from every facial orifice.

  “Honestly, Dad, we’ve been through so much together, much more than anybody knows, and I’ve let her down so badly. I would give anything to put it all right.”

  “Well let’s hope you get that chance. I do think Vicky’s a lovely girl and if you’re meant to be together you’ll find a way back to each other. These things have a way of working themselves out, even if the path does not seem obvious at the time.”

  Just then the telephone rings.

  “Can you answer it please? I don’t think I’ve got the strength to speak to anyone.”

  Dad picks up the receiver and says, “Hello?”

  “It’s for you,” he says passing me the handset. “It’s Melanie.”

  “Hi Mellie. What’s up?”

  “Hey, Chook. How you holding up?”

  “Not good but look I don’t really want to talk about it.”

  “Well listen. I may have some news.”

  “Oh?” I perk up instantly at the possibility of hopefully good news.

  “Yes, I’ve just got off the phone from Vicky’s mum. Basically I called her in the hope I could chat to Vicky and find out how she’s doing and get her side of things. Anyway she’s not there.”

  “WHAT?! What do you mean she’s not there? Where else would she be?”

  “Well that’s the thing. I started by saying, ‘oh you must be so excited to have your daughter back home with you’ and instead of saying ‘yes, it’s lovely’ or something like that, she completely dropped herself in it. She said, ‘well it will be when she finally leaves…’ then when she realised what she’d said she started to back track big style saying, ’…I mean when she finally leaves …Thailand.’ Then she made up some cock and bull story that Vicky decided to stop off in Thailand on her way back to the UK.”

  “I could tell she was lying through her back teeth. Anyway long story sideways, my hunch is she’s still in NZ Chris, and my guess is she’s hiding out with Dean and Lisa in Auckland until she can get a cheaper flight out. So I called them and Lisa flat out denies it but I don’t believe her. Dean wasn’t there. Lisa said he was down the beach but If I’d had the chance to speak to him I would know for sure if he was lying. You and I both know we can see straight through each other when we’re not telling the truth. Years of sibling practice.”

  “Anyway, my suggestion, bro, is to get your arse on the next plane up to Auckland and go and see for yourself.”

  “Mellie, I fucking love you. If I could reach down the telephone now and hug you I would,” I say leaping up out of the chair, my body suddenly flooded with renewed energy.

  “Good luck, Chook.”

  “Thanks, sis. Love you.”

  “Love you too,” we both sign off before hanging up the call.

  I turn quickly to Dad who’s still sat in the chair looking bemused and ask, “Dad, any chance of a lift to the airport?”

  Chapter 26

  Victoria

  The sand seeps between my toes, my feet sinking into the soft white powder as Dean and I walk along the beach together. The day, as ever, is beautiful. Not a cloud in the clear blue sky. The sea off the coast of Auckland has a greener tinge than the sea that surrounds the South Island, but the sun still bounces off its surface just as brightly, while gentle waves roll shorewards before slinking back into the ocean. I turn and look out towards the horizon, shading my eyes from the bright sun with the flat of my hand, wanting to burn this scene permanently into the back of my retinas, knowing that in a few hours I will leave this stunning country, potentially forever.

  “I can’t thank you and Lisa enough for providing me with sanctuary.”

  Dean shuffles from bare foot to bare foot, scooping sand over the arches of his feet. “Well it wasn’t an easy decision, Vicky. Chris is my brother after all. But you needed our help and we know you had no one else to turn to.”

  “Yes, Lisa was the third person I called, after calling the airline, then my mum and finally a taxi to take me to the airport. But I’ll be forever grateful to you both, you must know that.”

  We fall into a comfortable silence. The beauty of the peaceful surroundings draining away any awkwardness from our conversation.

  “I don’t hate him you know, Dean. In fact, probably the complete opposite. A part of me still loves your brother. In fact I love all of you. That is why this is doubly hard. I’m not just leaving him, I have to leave all of you as well. Your brother and your family have claimed a special place in my heart, but I just couldn’t stay a moment longer.”

  “Well I don’t know all the details, but you and my little brother seemed to have a complex love/hate relationship going on. One day you’d be like lovesick teenagers pawing all over each other, then the next moment you could cut the atmosphere with a knife.”

  “Exactly. It was unhealthy, and I simply couldn’t see a way out of the cycle. I had to leave before one of us did something really bad to the other.”

  He raises a questioning eyebrow at my last comment.

  “Look, Dean. It’s my all fault really. Please don’t blame Chris for this.”

  “It’s not my place to judge, Vicky. I don’t blame either of you. I just feel sad that you couldn’t make it work.”

  “I know. Nobody wanted it to work more than I, but I was the one that destroyed it all.”

  We walk in silence for a while as I internally grapple with how much to share with Dean. Neither I, nor indeed Chris, are entire
ly blameless in this whole situation, but finally telling someone the truth may help others understand some of the reasons why our relationship was destined to fail.

  “You see. I was unfaithful.”

  “What?!” Dean’s shock evident in his tone of voice as he turns and looks at me sharply. “Sorry that sounded very accusatory and I didn’t mean it to be. It’s just that if I’d had to put a bet on which of you two was more likely to stray, it would definitely not be you!”

  “Oh, God. This is so hard.” The shame of my admission in no way diminished despite the passing of time.

  “It happened not long after I met Chris. When he returned back home here the first time with his first shipment of cars a few months after we met in that first summer. I have no excuse really, although I do know why it happened. It was just a one- time thing. An office party. I was drunk and one thing led to another.”

  “You see, Dean, I’ve had a lot of bad relationships in the past, and I mean really bad and even though I know I’m totally fallible when men pay me any attention, I seem to lose any form of clear judgement in these situations. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve naively thought someone was being genuinely nice, interested in me, when it turns out they just wanted me for sex. This was just another one of those situations and before I knew it, I’d let things go too far.”

  We’ve sat down on the beach now, side by side. Looking out towards the horizon, I continue, “I didn’t seek it out. It’s not like I went out that night looking to score. When it came down to it I didn’t even want to be there. But I’ve developed this ability to disconnect my mind from my body which, in the past has served me well when I’ve been tangled up with the wrong men. However, in this instance I should have been stronger. I knew then what Chris and I had was special, but in the moment, I simply wasn’t strong enough, or experienced enough, to stop it.”