Despite attempting to defend Chrissy’s behaviour to Amber, I still resent her for pushing me away. I mean, I was hurting like crazy, I needed her love and support more than ever during that time, but she didn’t give it to me, didn’t appear to consider my feelings. She just shut herself off, and that still pisses me the hell off. Especially in light of what Amber’s just said; that she would have needed me more, begged for my forgiveness. The reaction of a normal, humbler person.
Amber takes a slug of vodka, then slides her slender fingers through her lustrous hair. You can just make out her roots, but there’s no question that blonde suits her. ‘Well, I hate shrinks,’ she says. ‘I don’t trust them. There’s something unnatural about the whole thing. My view is, when you’re in a bad place – when you’ve hit rock bottom – what you need most is family, those who love you most. I think I would find it weird talking to a stranger about something so personal.’
I love her for saying this. She’s the opposite of Chrissy. Warm and loving, not cold and aloof. She nestles up to me so that our hips are touching, holds my gaze and says, ‘Are you sure she’s not hiding something from you? Something she’s ashamed of, but never had the nerve to tell you about? Maybe that’s what whoever sent the note was getting at?’
I feel my muscles tighten as she offers up this possibility, because she’s said out loud what I’ve been wondering ever since reading the note.
She carries on. ‘You need to ask her, you deserve to know the truth.’
She looks at me with her doe eyes, and I thank my lucky stars I walked into that bar six months ago. Thank God I didn’t chicken out when she asked if she could join me. I was so tempted to – she was so young and intoxicating, so bloody sexy, everything I didn’t look or feel. But I didn’t, and it was the best decision I’d made in a long time. She keeps me sane, and she’s more than a good screw. She’s special, one in a million, and I can’t lose her. Not yet, at least.
Amber places her left palm on my chest, then runs her painted nails down my shirt buttons until they reach my fly, which she slowly unbuttons before delving inside. I tingle all over, hardening immediately.
‘You need to let some tension out; it’s not good for a man your age.’ She grins suggestively, and I instantly feel the stress subside.
I watch her slide off the bed, kneel on the floor, and lower her head. And then, knowing what’s about to happen, I lie back and forget everything, and tell myself how lucky I am to have found Amber.
Chapter Fifteen
Christine
Now
Janine and I embrace in the hallway. She’s warm and fleshy, and I immediately relax, reassured by her familiar, friendly touch. She stands back, looks me up and down, and says with a frown, ‘Jesus, woman, you look awful.’
I smile at her almost comical frankness. ‘Thanks,’ I say.
One thing I can rely on with Janine is that she’ll always tell me the truth, even if I’m not going to like it. I like that about her. Like the fact that with her, what you see is what you get. I can trust her not to tiptoe around my feelings like my other so-called friends do. No niceties for the sake of it, no games. Miranda’s the other exception. She’ll tell me straight if I’m talking shit. But I also wonder if that’s Duncan’s influence, being a straight-talking Northerner. He used to make me laugh with his blunt dry humour. But that was a long time ago, when I was somebody else. I expect he was too.
Anyway, on this occasion, Janine’s absolutely right. I do look bloody awful.
After Greg left, I took a long, hot shower in our en-suite bathroom. As I stood there – the shower’s powerful jets making my skeletal body feel quite sore – his comment about my figure plagued my mind, and as I gazed down at my body, at my flat, mannish boobs, my stick-insect legs, my washboard stomach, I felt repulsed. Clearly, I repulsed him. Sooner or later, the excessive exercising and bird-like eating is going to catch up with me, I told myself, but I can’t let that happen if there’s any chance of you still being out there, Heidi. I need to keep strong in mind and body. In short, I realized that I needed to take better care of myself, and at that moment I promised myself that I would.
‘Well, I’m sorry, but you do,’ Janine says, heading straight for the kitchen. She goes over to the table and sets down the cake tin she’s holding before opening the lid. ‘Scones and clotted cream,’ she announces proudly. ‘Hope you have butter and jam.’ She winks. ‘Now get the flipping kettle on, so we can tuck in.’
Ten minutes later, we’re sitting at the table, munching on scones, which are – to my surprise – bloody good. Or maybe they’re just average, and it’s merely the fact that I’ve denied myself for so long, anything would taste good. Anything with sugar, fat, a bit of substance. I couldn’t quite bring myself to add any of the clotted cream, but I did apply a thin layer of butter and jam. A real achievement for me.
There’s a roguish glint in Janine’s eye as she grins widely and says, ‘Good, aren’t they?’
I grin back. ‘Yes, bloody good.’
‘Save some for Greg, though.’ She smiles again, then pricks up her ears. ‘It’s very quiet. I expected to hear his footsteps pacing the floor, or him ranting down the phone.’
Being a law widow, Janine knows the drill all too well. Knows how stressful life can be for a City lawyer, and often lonely for their spouse.
I chew and swallow the last of my scone, thinking it will keep me full until at least dinner time, possibly breakfast. In fact, I feel mildly queasy because I’m not used to anything remotely stodgy, and it’s a shock to my system. I push my plate away. ‘He went into work after all. Said something urgent came up.’
Janine sits back, looks unimpressed. ‘You’re joking? After what happened, he just abandoned you? How can you stand for that?’ She frowns, almost looks fit to burst.
I don’t want to be angry with Greg, but I can’t help thinking she’s right. Even so, I make a half-baked attempt to defend him, perhaps because I feel it would be hypocritical of me to criticize him. After all, it was only when he announced that he was leaving that I realized I wanted him to stay.
‘Calm down, Jani, he knew you were coming over, and I said I’d be OK.’
Janine’s eyes narrow. ‘Are you OK?’
She has me. She knows me so well.
I sigh. ‘Not really.’
‘The note?’
I nod. ‘It was just such a shock. After all this time, trying to come to terms with the fact that she’s gone… I just don’t know what to think.’
Janine reaches for my hand and squeezes it gently. ‘Can I see the note?’
‘Sure.’ I’d always planned to show it to her, but I’m glad she’s expressed interest without me offering it up. Makes me feel like less of a burden. It’s a wonder she’s not bored of it all. Like Miranda, she’s had to listen to the same stuff repeatedly for the last two decades. I go and retrieve the note which I locked in a drawer in the study last night before going to bed, then return to the kitchen. I hand it to Janine, watch her read it in silence.
‘Fuck,’ she says when she’s finished, looking up at me with wide eyes. Exactly the reaction I’d expected.
‘It’s killing me, Jani. I mean, do I even dare to have hope? Or do I tell myself it’s just another prankster?’
‘You can always hope, love, there’s nothing wrong with that. But you must also be prepared for it to amount to nothing. I’m sure the police said the same?’
‘Yes. He’s nice, DI Phillips, but predictably cynical.’ I inhale deeply, then let out a big sigh. ‘I know you’re both right. It’s… it’s just that somehow this note…’
‘Feels different?’
‘Yes. For one, it’s handwritten, and two, it feels like it’s come from someone I know, or knew.’
‘Because of the last sentence?’ Janine looks at me intently, and I feel my cheeks redden. A sure sign I am hiding something.
But she doesn’t probe. Says, ‘Just because the tone is personal, it doesn’t necessari
ly mean the sender knows you. It could just be part of some sick mind game he or she is playing with you.’
Logically, this makes sense. But there’s something to be said for trusting your gut, and my gut tells me otherwise. But I don’t labour the point, just say with a faint smile, ‘I know.’
Janine leans forward, looks at me earnestly. ‘Can you think of anyone who might bear a grudge against you for something you did, either to them, or to someone they knew or loved, back then? Or perhaps someone who was jealous of you?’
I shake my head. ‘No one springs to mind.’
Liar.
‘What are you hiding from me, Chrissy?’
Janine’s gaze penetrates me so deeply, I have to look away. I’m too afraid, too ashamed to tell her the truth, and so I get up from my chair, move to the window, and say, with my back to her, ‘Nothing, it’s nothing. Like you said, probably part of some sick mind game the sender is playing with me.’
Janine doesn’t respond. I don’t like the silence, so I turn around and meet her gaze again. To my relief, she doesn’t press the issue further. Just shakes her head and says, ‘Well, all we can do for now is wait. See what the police come up with, see if the sender gets in contact again. But you need to keep your head. You can’t let this drive you mad.’
I nod gratefully. ‘I know.’
There’s a short pause before she asks, ‘How are things going with Dr Cousins?’
‘Good,’ I say brightly, ‘I really like her.’
‘I knew you would.’
‘She’s quite unconventional, surprisingly harsh at times, but I think that’s what I like about her. She does the unexpected, keeps me on my toes.’
Janine nods enthusiastically. ‘Yes, exactly. It’s a bit of a shock at first, but sometimes you need to be shocked out of a bad situation, don’t you think? I mean, she didn’t allow me to wallow in my grief for Nate. Don’t get me wrong: in our first couple of sessions, she just listened and let me sob and whinge about how bloody unfair it was, but then she told me to get real, get on with it, because, quite frankly, what was the point in moaning, endlessly grieving? Nate was dead and never coming back. In fact, she said I could either snap out of it and get on with my life, or I might as well put a bullet through my head.’
I gasp in shock. ‘She actually said that?’
‘Well, no, not those exact words,’ Janine admits with a wry smile, ‘but that was the gist of it.’ She pauses, then says, ‘Bit of a weird thing to say, I know, but I’m sort of glad Dr Cousins crashed into Miranda’s car that day. I mean, we’d never have known her otherwise. It’s like fate drove them together, literally.’ She smiles again. ‘It’s ironic when you think about it.’
‘How do you mean?’ I ask.
‘Well, Miranda used to be so disparaging of shrinks. I remember her saying she’d never touch one with a bargepole. But she completely changed her attitude when she met Dr Cousins.’
It’s a good point. Greg said the same. But I guess that just goes to show how special Dr Cousins is.
Janine hesitates.
‘What?’ I ask.
‘She also gave me some pills.’
‘Pills? What, like antidepressants?’ I had a brief spell on diazepam, but I didn’t like the way they made me feel lethargic, spaced out. The gym is my tranquillizer. The gym and wine.
‘Sort of.’
I shake my head. ‘Sort of? How do you mean? You know I don’t like pills, Jani.’
‘I know, neither do I. And I didn’t want to take them at first. Felt almost cross that she appeared to be advocating them as a solution. But I felt so desperate, I agreed. And they really helped. Whatever was in them, they did the trick. Made me feel calmer, but never like a zombie. I know that’s what you don’t like, right?’
I nod.
‘I don’t either, but these ones actually made me feel more in control, able to function better.’
‘But you’re off them now, right?’
Janine nods. ‘Oh yes, completely off them. All I’m saying is, if this thing starts up again, and you’re feeling a bit overwhelmed, you might want to ask her to prescribe what she gave me. Just to get you through it.’
‘OK, maybe,’ I say.
Just then, my phone, which is lying on the table, vibrates. I pick it up, check the message. It’s a total shock, and that must show on my face because Janine immediately asks me what’s wrong.
I look up, still knocked for six. ‘It’s Daniel,’ I mumble.
‘Is he all right?’ Janine asks anxiously.
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘He’s engaged, apparently. And he wants to introduce me and Greg to his fiancée over lunch this Sunday.’
Chapter Sixteen
Daniel
Now
It’s Saturday, and I wake up with a clear head, rather than feeling like it’s being pummelled from every angle. It’s still a pretty novel sensation for me, feeling so alive on a weekend morning, but at the same time, it’s bloody fantastic. The sound of birds tweeting, children playing, traffic droning doesn’t grate at my throbbing head like it used to, and I don’t have that hideous choppy sensation in the pit of my stomach that tells me I’m going to spew at any moment.
I’m ready to face the day. Enjoy it, rather than battle it. Enjoy life, just being in the moment. And it’s all because of you.
I turn and prop myself up on my left side, then gaze down at you, locked in a deep sleep. My sleeping beauty. I desperately want to kiss you, but I can’t bear to wake you, you look so peaceful.
I could watch you forever. Your profile is exquisite. Your dainty nose, your ridiculously long eyelashes, the curve of your lips. And then there are your soft, golden locks which, right now, caress your slender shoulders and back. You excite me, fulfil me in ways I never thought possible, having virtually given up on the female sex. You’ve been such a good influence on me, you are so good for me, full stop, and I thank God for the day you walked into my life. I still can’t believe my luck, because I never thought such incredible fortune could happen to someone like me. You are almost too good to be true, and I can’t help wondering when the blissful bubble I am living in might burst. The thought of it doing so terrifies me.
Before you came along, I would binge-drink several times a week – mainly beer, but also spirits like vodka or Bacardi – rising to dangerous levels on weekends. I also took drugs, hard stuff like coke and heroin, ate crap, but didn’t give a fuck what I was doing to myself. And I could never maintain a relationship. I thought it was all my fault; that I was too screwed up to ever be able to trust and fully commit myself to someone. In some ways it was true, because I was screwed up. But you unscrewed me. You helped me see that I could change, that I could commit. I was merely waiting for the right girl to come along. You.
It’s very easy for me to lay the blame on my childhood. Although I grew up in a home that wanted for nothing materially, it was devoid of the one thing my sister Ella and I craved above all else.
A mother’s love.
I’ve never told Mum or Dad this, but there’ve been times when I’ve found myself loathing my older – most probably dead – sister. I think I was seven and Ella was five when Dad sat us down and tried to tell us about her. Her disappearance destroyed my parents’ relationship, destroyed my (and Ella’s) childhood before it had even begun. She has been the bane of our lives right from when we were foetuses in our mother’s womb, even though we didn’t know it at the time. I realize that sounds insane, that it’s in no way Heidi’s fault, but I can’t help thinking this way.
Dad did his best, poor sod. But there are times when a child just needs his or her mother, especially when you have a dad like ours who works insane hours and you don’t get to see him much, except on weekends. And even then, he was always on his frigging BlackBerry, as smartphones were back then. Mum was never consciously cruel to us – she didn’t hit us or call us horrid names – but she performed her motherly duties in a cold fashion. And it always felt like she was a million m
iles away, rather than in the here-and-now with us.
Ella and I weren’t stupid. Just because we were kids, we weren’t blind to our parents’ unhappy relationship, to their negative body language and clipped conversation. We noticed how Mum was just as frigid with Dad as she was with us. Witnessing any affection between them was rare, and although I don’t like making excuses for myself, there’s no doubt in my mind that Mum’s coldness towards me and Dad had a harmful bearing on my behaviour towards women in general.
But you are different from other women. From the start you seemed to get me so well, and you helped me see that it’s not my fault, that I don’t have to be unhappy all my life – that my mother’s actions needn’t shape my future, or Ella’s. You penetrated the stone veil that previously enveloped my heart.
Just now, you stir, do that funny scrunchy thing you do with your nose, and I can’t resist. I kiss your shoulder tenderly. You smile, your eyes still closed, and murmur, ‘What time is it?’
‘Just gone nine,’ I say, then follow up with another kiss, this time on your back. But I don’t stop. I keep going, my lips travelling lower and lower down the small of your back, making your body jerk with pleasure, my head now completely under the covers, my right hand wandering between your thighs until I reach the most delicious thing in the world.
I don’t stop there. Hearing you moan excites me. I love that sound. And then you shake uncontrollably, and I am in paradise. Your pleasure is all mine.
You, my new fiancée, saved me. And I will do anything to keep you happy.
Anything, Freya, anything at all.
Chapter Seventeen
She's Mine Page 8
