Lost In Mr. Parks (Park #3)

by Lilly James

  My chest tightened in empathy and compassion towards Harriet. She was scared to be with her husband, but even more scared to leave. I wished I could have told her to find that inner strength that lies within everybody to help her leave his arse, but finding that inner strength isn’t as easy to do when your outer layer isn’t fighting with you. I knew how it felt for my body to beg me to get help, to stop drinking, to be brave and deal with those difficult emotions everyone faces in life. But my inner strength was hiding behind my numbed mind, begging not to be released, terrified of the unknown.

  “I can understand that sometimes you feel so weak, you feel you don’t have any fight in you at all. But that’s not true, Harriet. You fight for your charity, you fight for those children, who, just like me, have grown up within a family that chose a dark path rather than loving their child. You’re helping those kids realise they’re not alone, that there is light at the end of that tunnel. You need to practice what you preach.”

  Her eyes were shrouded in regret and pain when she looked at me again, then she closed them, seeming to soak up what I said. “Evey, I’ve helped all those children’s lives, yet I can’t even help my own. I didn’t protect Jasmine and Wade. I was the only person who could have taken them away from a life of abuse, but I chose to ignore it. I’m so selfish.” A sob caught in her throat before she broke down, tears coming fast and wailing loudly.

  I took a step forwards, but I was hesitant in going towards her because I wanted to tell her everything was going to be all right, but I couldn’t because it was a lie. I wanted to tell her that she was wrong, that she did what she could, but that was also a lie. In my eyes, she didn’t do enough to protect her children. I sympathised with her being too afraid of Clinton to leave him, but I hated how she chose to turn a blind eye to what her husband was doing to Wade and Jasmine. Just like my father did to me.

  “All I can say is, maybe you can try and make it right now?”

  “How?” she croaked, taking her head of out her hands.

  I stood firm. “By leaving Clinton and showing everybody what he is.”

  “Then he would expose what I am, and I have more to lose than he does.”

  I frowned. “What does he know?” Harriet opened her mouth, then hesitated, so I reassured her, “You can tell me.”

  I saw her weighing up her options in her head. “As you may have heard Wade say, I had an affair with Clinton’s best friend and business partner, Mitchell Brown. Clinton was so wrapped up in work, I felt alone, but Mitchell made me feel wanted. Our affair went on for eight years. Clinton found out about what I was doing, but he didn’t know who with. Jasmine and Wade were only three at the time, and that’s when Clinton turned a dark corner. Said he couldn’t trust me, couldn’t trust anyone.”

  Harriet blew her nose in a hanky. “I stayed away from Mitchell, tried to make a go of family life with Clinton because I wanted the best for my children. I felt I owed it to Clinton to stay because of what I’d done to him. He was always drunk when he hit the kids, abused them. They think I don’t know how scared they were when nine o’clock every evening rolled around. But I do, because I shared the same fear.” She bowed her head in shame. “I was too weak to leave. It went too far and I was stuck. I loved him, I really did. Maybe I just thought he would change. But he never did.”

  She took a deep breath as I tried to keep an open mind. Harriet having an affair? I couldn’t see it. “I had to find a way of keeping myself occupied after he made me retire.” She saw me scowl and explained, “He said he didn’t trust me to work. So I set up my charity. I got so caught up in it that I forgot about my own children back home.” She went into a sob again, so I looked down at my shoes, feeling a mixture of empathy and disgust. “A couple of years later,” she went on, stifling a sob, “I met up with Mitchell again. It was only a one-night stand that time, but I got pregnant, Evey. Pregnant with another man’s child. I tried to tell Clinton the child was his, but he knew I was lying.”

  My eyes widened as I racked my brains for something to say. Then it hit me. “Abigail?”

  Harriet shook her head gently, her eyes warming at the mention of the little girl. “No.” She sighed, ready to drop another bombshell, it seemed. “Abigail is my granddaughter.”

  I frowned, trying to catch up with it all. Before she could explain, her phone rang on a table nearby, and I knew it was someone she didn’t want to speak to when she looked at the screen and sagged.

  “Clinton?” I guessed.

  “Yes. If I don’t talk to him, he won’t stop calling.” It was like she was seeking my permission for her to answer the call.

  “Hang up. He will only fire abuse at you, Harriet.”

  Harriet accepted the call anyway, and I watched on in tremendous sympathy as her whole demeanour became dragged down, exhausted, and frail. “Clinton, I was just about to call you back, dear.”

  I tilted my head as I watched her, trying to get her attention. “Put him on loudspeaker,” I mouthed, and she did just that.

  “Why t-the fuck are you still in London?” he ranted. “Didn’t I tell you to get the fuck home last night? You never fucking listen to a word I say…” he slurred. I knew from the sound of his voice that he was drunk. “Stupid f-f-fucking woman,” he muttered. “And just to be clear, if I f-find out you have been talking to that piece of shit son of mine, I’ll—”

  “No.” Her tone was panicked. “I’m just sorting a couple more things and have a few more meetings, dear. I will be home as soon as I can.” Harriet’s voice was small and meek.

  “No, I want you home right now. Am I clear, woman?”

  Woman? Harriet was his wife and that’s how he talked to her?

  My blood was boiling, and I had to force myself not to unleash my tongue.

  Harriet turned off the speaker phone and gingerly placed her phone on top of a small cabinet, succumbing to the piece of shit that was ranting at her, and hung up.

  “I can’t believe he just spoke to you like that.” I gasped in disbelief, mentally patting myself on the back for not laying into Clinton.

  Harriet took a brief, hurried look towards the wall clock, then glanced back at me. “He’s probably had a bad day.”

  I scowled. “You’re sticking up for him.” It wasn’t a question, it was a fact. A sentence I’d heard from my dad so many times.

  She glanced sheepishly away from me, but her eyes were teary, so red and exhausted. “I suppose I am. Anyway—” she flapped a hand, “—I best go and pack.”

  “Don’t go back,” I pushed out quickly. “Stay here in London. You can’t go back to that. Not now, not ever.”

  She patted her immaculate hair into place, trying to act like she was fine with the whole scenario. Putting up pretences. “I’ll be fine. I better be on my way. I’m sorry I bothered you, Evey.”

  “Wait.” I sprang for the sofa and uncharacteristically pulled on her arm. “Please, stay in Kensington. I have the key.” Well, I did back at Steph’s. “Wade wants me to stay there while we’re on a break, but why don’t you and Abigail stay there instead? Just for a few days,” I pushed, waiting and hoping she would accept. In the forefront of my mind, I knew what I planned to do. I wanted to get Nia to talk to Harriet and try and persuade her to leave that despicable human being. I was positive Nia could bring that inner strength out of Harriet and make her come to her senses. Nia helped me, and she would be a great help to Harriet.

  “Just for a few days,” Harriet relented, even giving me a small smile, but I could see from the crinkles at the corners of her eyes that inside she was dying. Clinton was killing her from the inside out. Killing Parks the same way and maybe even Jasmine. For some reason I felt a connection with Harriet. Maybe it was because I was so in love with her son, and so bent on helping him, that I wanted to help with whatever baggage came with him.

  “I’ll talk to Wade. Stay here tonight.” I glanced at my watch and saw it was four thirty.

  She smiled again, making me smile back at her.
“You’re a wonderful woman, Evey. I honestly see what my son loves about you.”

  I just nodded graciously before opening the door and getting on my way.

  Chapter Six

  I tried calling Parks, then redialled his number over and over, but he still wouldn’t answer his goddamn phone. I had to inform him of my plans, which included telling his mother to stay at his apartment. Having no luck with his mobile, I decided to call reception at the building I knew he was working in.

  “Good afternoon, WParks Enterprises. How may I help you?”

  I sagged when I heard Joanna’s voice, because I knew she was going to do everything in her power to stop me speaking to him.

  “Is Mr. Parks available?” I put on a posh voice, sounding a little like Clarke’s wife.

  “He is at a meeting right now, may I take a message?”

  “It’s Evey.” I winced. “I need to speak with him. It’s urgent.”

  I felt her smugness down the phone. “He’s busy and has told me not to allow any calls to get through, even yours. Good-bye.”

  “Bitch!” I breathed out when she hung up on me. As anger and annoyance washed over me, I had a reckless thought. I shoved my phone into my bag, glanced down the street, and flagged down the nearest taxi, then told the driver to take me to The Shard, where Parks was having a meeting.

  We arrived outside, and I almost forgot to pay the taxi, I was so set on getting inside the building.

  “Hey,” he called, acting like I was going to intentionally make a run for it.

  “Keep your hair on.” I threw him the exact amount just because of his assumption. “Grumpy old fart,” I muttered and slammed the door on his swearing.

  It was extremely windy that day, so I pushed my flowing hair out of my face, wrapped my jacket tightly around me, and glanced up at The Shard. I remember Parks telling me he had a media company suited in here, and as I glanced up at the building, taking in its enormity, I also took in the enormity of my boyfriend. Well, part-time boyfriend. He was Mr. Big and I was little old me. That thought alone had me stepping back a touch as a sudden, unexplainable feeling crashed around me. Was I in over my head with Parks? I thought maybe we were fighting a losing battle as I stood there asking myself which road I should go down. Should I back away, give him his space, or go inside and fight for a man that had revitalized my whole life? Quitting was not on option. When things got tough, I had to fight some more.

  Whilst I was quietly thinking, forgetting there were hundreds of people around me, someone smacked into the back of me, sending their briefcase flying out of their hands, spilling its contents on the ground.

  “You idiot,” the man yelled as I turned around and watched him quickly scramble to try and recover his documents that were flying around in the wind like paper aeroplanes.

  “Maybe you should keep your nose out of your phone and watch where you’re going,” I yelled as something hit my shin. It was a yellow piece of paper, and the man looked up after gathering his notes and self together and stormed towards me.

  “I think you’ll find that’s mine.” He snatched it from my leg, stuffed it into his briefcase, and straightened out his glasses before giving me a nasty look. He turned on his heel and headed for the building.

  “Dick,” I called after him, not being able to help myself.

  With an idiot reminding me that I’m no pushover, I forced my legs toward the building, my black, flat-heeled ankle boots not stopping for anyone until I got inside and was stopped by a formally, immaculately dressed blonde in a black suit.

  “Hi, can I help you?”

  I stepped back a little confused, wondering why I was approached amongst the hundreds of people entering at the same time as me.

  “I’m here to see Parks…uh…Mr. Parks,” I corrected myself, but there was no need to. She knew who I was talking about. Of course she did.

  Her smile was meant to seem warm, but I knew it was a pretentious smile, telling me there was no way in hell I was going to see him. “Do you have an identification pass?”

  I scoffed. “I don’t think his girlfriend needs an identification pass, do you?”

  Her bright blue eyes were trying to hide her surprise, but her smirk told me she thought I was lying. “That’s one I haven’t heard before.” She was about to roll her eyes to go with her sarcastic comment, but then she seemed to remember where she was and gathered herself. “I still need to see a pass.”

  My blood was boiling as I tapped my foot impatiently. “I haven’t got a pass,” I pushed through gritted teeth. “All you have to do is call Joanna, who is on Parks’s reception desk, and ask her to let me up.”

  “I’m sorry.” Blondie began walking towards me, trying to escort me out of the building. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why are you penalizing me? You’ve just allowed loads of people to walk past me and into the lifts.” I pointed at the swarms of people passing all around me.

  “Most have work tags, others are visitors with tickets, and you have neither.”

  I was about to tell her exactly what she could do with a pass or a ticket, but then I hatched a plan.

  “Fine.” I held up my hands. “Show me out.” I smiled, offering my hand out for her to lead the way. It was easier than I anticipated to get her to walk ahead of me. I walked behind her for a couple of steps, turned my head to see the lift opening again, and made a run for it.

  “Hey!” she called after me as I legged it to the lift and got in just in time. As the doors started closing, she ran towards me, her face a mask of horror. Forgetting the full capacity of the lift, I lifted my middle finger to the blonde before the doors closed.

  I felt like a sardine in a tin and didn’t even know which floor I was meant to get out at. The lift stopped, the doors pinged open, and out walked a horde of people, which allowed me to suddenly breathe and make extremely awkward eye contact with an old gentlemen in a suit standing beside me.

  “Which floor, lovely?”

  Oh God, I hadn’t the faintest idea. “Um, WParks Enterprises.” I tried to keep a straight face, acting like I’d been there hundreds of times.

  “Jolly good.” He pressed a button, and up we went a couple more floors. When the doors pinged open, I stood still, wondering if the man was going to get out, but it seemed he wasn’t.

  “This is your stop, lovely.”

  “Of course it is.” I smiled sheepishly, pulled myself together, and stepped out. As soon as I did, my boots squeaked on the white marble floor, and I blinked, trying to adjust to the masses of sunlight seeping through the windows surrounding me.

  “Evey?”

  My head snapped left, and I saw Joanna dressed in black, getting up from her chair behind a white desk.

  “How did you get up here?”

  “I flew,” I spat out sarcastically and stepped towards her. “I need to see Wade.”

  Joanna took back her chair. “Mr. Parks is in an extremely important meeting and wishes not to be disturbed.” She crossed her arms over her large breasts, so I leaned in farther, pressing my palms onto the reception desk.

  “Tell him it’s urgent.”

  She shook her head, looked away from me, and started tapping on her laptop. “He could fit you in around…” She pursed her lips. “Noon? Tomorrow.”

  “He can fit me in?” I scoffed. “I’m his goddamn girlfriend. I don’t need a fucking appointment.”

  “Language,” she scolded. All I could do was stare at her oversized bun and beg myself not to punch it off her head.

  “I’ll just wait here, then,” I told her and sank into the white tub chair opposite her.

  “You can’t do that. Mr. Parks states—” she turned back to the computer screen, “—anyone wishing to see him—” she glanced at me, her eyes hard and narrowing, “—including Ms. Banks, will need an appointment.”

  “Let me see that.” I marched around the desk, ignored her spluttering and warnings for me to get back behind it, and tilted the screen so I could rea
d what it said.

  “Bastard,” I muttered, seeing that Joanna was telling the truth. “We’ll see about that.”

  I made my way back around the desk and headed for the fogged glassed doors.

  “Evey,” Joanne hissed, her voice low. “Don’t go in there. It’s full of high-profile businessmen.”

  “And now it’s going to be filled with my language.” I threw the words over my shoulder, pushed down the silver handle on one of the double doors, and threw it open. The door gave a bang as it swung in viciously and struck the wall, and I gained the eyes of the suited men, all sitting behind a glass rectangle table. I quickly scanned along the suits, estimating fourteen men, then I saw Parks sitting head of table, slowly standing from his chair, hands pressed against the tabletop, gaping.

  “Evelyn? What are you—?”

  “Trying to get hold of you. Seems this is the only way I can do it.” I didn’t care that he was warning me with hard, thickly lashed eyes to back away, stop talking, and get the hell out of the room.

  “I’m a little busy right now. Wait outside.” His voice seemed calmed on the outside, but I could see his gritted teeth. I looked away from him quickly and scanned the array of men that were all staring at me. All moguls, all expensive suits and styled hair. One took off his glasses, cleaned them, and put them back on. Seemed he couldn’t believe his eyes.

  “I will only leave this room if you come with me.”

  “I am in the middle of a meeting, Evelyn.” His voice was low and doing a rubbish job of hiding his temper.

  “Tough.” I crossed my arms, digging in my heels. “You are my boyfriend, and I do not need a goddamn appointment to see you.”

  “Now is not a good time.” He glanced past me. “Joanna, escort Ms. Banks outside, please.”