The Braille Club (The Braille Club #1)

by J. A. Kerr

  Her breath caught as she felt Benedict’s fingers caress her body. This man, this beautiful man, was almost a stranger to her and yet he seemed to know her better than she knew herself. She had looked into those glacial blue eyes as he drew her towards him. She would never forget the words he whispered in her ear.

  “Up until now I've just been existing, I realise that now, my life on hold, waiting…” he shook his head “…for you.” He pulled back to look at her. “You are my light.”

  Siena was shocked by the intensity of those eyes, had tried to look away, but he took her face in his hands.

  “I will always be grateful to you for that, no matter what happens,” he said.

  Siena watched his eyes change, become light and clear with what…desire, longing, she wasn’t sure and then she knew. She had seen that look before, except it had been in her husband’s eyes. It was love…and then they clouded once more and he kissed her. But actions speak louder than words and his actions were showing Siena the love he had for her. She moaned as he increased the intensity of his touch, her mind losing focus as he took her to new heights of pleasure.

  Siena awoke with a start, then as realisation dawned on her, she leapt out of the bed. She stared in horror at Benedict sleeping soundly, and felt her world turn upside down. She had no idea how long she had been asleep; had only wanted to close her eyes for a second. Tired of late, she’d put it down to the anxiety of the affair. She certainly wasn’t sleeping well, but even so she had never felt fatigue like this before. The light in the room suggested it must be early morning. Her stomach clenched in fright as she sought explanations for Nick, but her mind was blank. How would she explain her absence? Explain why she wasn’t asleep in their room? She thought of her parents but dismissed the idea; she would not bring them into it; this was her mess, and she had to deal with it herself.

  She saw her watch on the cabinet and slipped it on. Steeling herself, she checked the time, appalled to find it was almost five a.m. Fear rose up in her again as she started to dress. Almost hyperventilating, she frantically located her clothing but felt sluggish and tired, her body craving more sleep. She sat down in the chair, pulling her bag into her lap and rummaged for her cell. Her heart stuttered as she found it and noticed the twenty or so missed calls from Nick.

  Her mind went into free fall as she dropped her cell back into her bag. This was it; she’d been caught, and she would have to face him. Part of her was terrified of what Nick would do and part of her was relieved he would know, that she could stop pretending. She was throwing her marriage away and she was afraid, but she realised now without a doubt that she no longer loved Nick. She wasn’t sure what the future held, but she would have to face up to her actions. Smoothing down her gown, she stood up and quietly crossed the room; Benedict didn’t stir as she closed the door and headed upstairs to her room and Nick.

  ***

  Nick

  Nick made his way to the bar, asked for a large Jim Beam, and chatted easily with the people from his table. The British were so friendly, and he found he was enjoying himself, holding court with his new acquaintances. Benedict Harrison looked different in the flesh to his website picture, softer somehow, but that wasn’t uncommon. He watched them as they started to dance, Harrison’s gaze on Ava’s face again left him in no doubt of his attraction to her.

  Someone called his name and Nick turned around. Chatting for the next ten minutes with an old friend, he saw both Benedict and Ava return to the table. He was desperate to speak to Benedict, but noticed with frustration he was heading for the dance floor again. The bourbon helped him to relax, and he ordered another. Later, he did see Harrison get up and head across the room with the stunning girl, who appeared to be rather drunk, but he lost sight of them after that.

  He didn’t want to analyse his relationship with his wife, not tonight anyway. Siena's parents had retired an hour ago, and it was just a small group left, but the party was still in full swing and suddenly he wanted to get very drunk, ashamed he hadn’t trusted his wife more; he vowed to make it up to her. When he’d observed Siena tonight, he saw that she looked tired and paler than normal with shadows under her eyes. He asked for another drink as he felt a stab of worry.

  Something was wrong; he knew in his heart he was losing her…they were drifting apart. His obsession with Harrison had jeopardised his marriage, but his intuition had never been wrong before. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to clear his foggy mind. He should go to bed, talk to Siena in the morning. They needed a break, a holiday, yes…the more he thought about it, the more excited he became. He would romance his wife again; concentrate his efforts on his relationship, after all, he was nothing without her. With unsteady legs he stood up, drunker than he realised, as he staggered towards the lift.

  Nick was making slow progress as he staggered down the hall with his hotel card in his hand, but he could not remember his room number. He’d given Siena the key holder earlier and the key card he held had no room number printed on it. He had tried to call Siena’s cell, but she wasn’t answering. Angry and drunk, he had been stumbling up and down the tenth-floor hallway trying his room key in numerous doors as quietly as he could, without success. He suspected it was only a matter of time before someone heard him and called security. With no alternative, he stumbled back to the lifts where there was a small sofa and sat down heavily. He would have to go back to reception and get them to check his room number, he thought tiredly, but he would ring Siena again, just in case she answered.

  Chapter 40

  THE BRAILLE CLUB

  Braille Club, London, Present Day: The Braille Club’s reputation was growing and although membership was closed, Benedict could still make exceptions. Gabriella and Max were one of them. Guy had never asked Benedict for anything until now. Surprised by his manager’s request—he was almost as private as his boss—Benedict listened to Guy’s story about his sister with real compassion. He knew he would do anything to help Ellie. He granted membership and Guy felt grateful…a debt repaid at last. From what he had heard from Guy, The Braille Club might just have saved their marriage.

  Abbey

  For Abbey, the weeks after the funeral were a blur. With the pills Olivia had given her now finished, she turned to her GP. Although supportive, he voiced his concern about the addictive properties of the medication. She’d made a note to switch to someone else in the practice when requesting a repeat, which she desperately needed. Abbey wasn’t sleeping or eating very much, and she knew she looked unrecognisable, her face drawn; her eyes sunken and haunted, while the thinness of her body disgusted even her, still she could not eat.

  She spent the days after Steve’s death pulling the house apart. Methodical in her madness, she started with his study and went through it with a fine tooth comb. Discovering his laptop missing, she’d searched every drawer, file, and shelf, but didn’t find it or anything that pointed to his affair. His mistress’ number burned into her memory banks, the missing laptop bothered her. He must have had it with him the night he’d collapsed, left it wherever he had been staying. She had searched his car, and although she hadn’t picked up his belongings from the club, she had been assured a laptop was not amongst his things.

  She moved on to Steve’s clothes, searching every pocket as she folded and bagged his expensive suits, designer jeans, shirts, and sportswear, driven by the need to find proof Steve had been ready to leave her. Had he planned it in advance, and with whom? She had hundreds of questions eating away at her.

  Part of the reason she couldn’t sleep was she kept thinking of that day at the hospital. She tried to block it out, but it crept up on her during the night. Sometimes as she slept she could sense Steve next to her, feel his warmth and his breathing. It was so real to her; she woke and instinctively reached out to touch him but her hand touched the cold side of the bed, and the memory of that day came back—switching off his ventilator, the noisy machinery falling silent—and sleep was now impossible.

  Exhausted, she fel
t her grief and rage tearing her apart. Olivia had been her rock, and with a busy company to run, her time was limited, but she dropped by every other night, and appalled by Abbey’s appearance, arrived with food and words of comfort. Abbey’s parents wanted her to come home with them, and she agreed after she’d attended to the funeral and all the legal implications of Steve’s death, she would.

  Her mother called her daily, but it was a struggle to keep up the pretence that she was coping. Wherever she went, she took the second mobile phone with her, unsure why she was doing it, but somehow it seemed important that she did. She had wanted to call the number stored under the letter L but Olivia had been adamant she didn’t. She was frightened it would lead to another kiss and tell newspaper article that would dredge up all the other affair stories. She realised she was right to be cautious, but the waiting was killing Abbey.

  Olivia wanted the number to make discreet enquiries, she had contacts that could access this information but Abbey was too frightened of what she would find out. She wanted to know first. She trusted Olivia, but this was personal. The funeral had been so awful. Consumed with the idea that Steve’s mistress would be there, Abbey had scanned every female face with suspicion and hostility. Even the horror of dealing with Liz and Kenny didn’t distract her from the belief that somewhere in the crowd that bitch was watching her.

  The medication kept her calm as Liz proceeded to put on a spectacular floor show at the graveside, with her wailing and fake tears. There were so many people to speak to, but Abbey somehow got through the day, her senses dulled as she worked on auto-pilot. She went through the motions but felt nothing, and often found herself standing alone, as if her grief was contagious. Her family had been fantastic, and her brother Mark had stepped in to help her with all the arrangements, making things easier.

  She had received a letter from Steve’s lawyer, informing her a date had been set for the reading of the will; it all felt surreal. Again Mark insisted he take her there, and she had been glad. She wasn’t strong enough to deal with Liz and Kenny; she knew they would be there too. With all his Army training and tours, Mark thought he had seen most things, but nothing prepared him for Liz and Kenny. He bumped into them outside the solicitor’s office, stinking of booze and fags and had recoiled as Liz leant in close, shaking his hand while revealing brown rotting teeth in her attempt at a coy smile. Kenny wasn’t much better but less drunk, while Liz still looked smashed.

  The reading had only taken thirty minutes or so. Abbey was Steve’s sole beneficiary; she exhaled in relief. She’d been so afraid he’d changed his will and left money to his mistress. She couldn’t bear any more humiliation, but thinking about it logically, she would have spotted someone waiting at the solicitors and there hadn’t been. This obsession must stop.

  Steve had left his parents their villa and an invested lump sum, which would provide a comfortable income for the rest of their lives. Liz listened, rudely interrupting the lawyer as she struggled to grasp what it all meant. The solicitor remained unfazed, and with great patience explained the terms of the will as if speaking to a child. When realisation dawned on Liz that there was no cash as such, her face darkened.

  “So you’re fucking telling me that stuck up little bitch gets everything, and all we get is the villa and a shitty pension?” screamed Liz, spittle flying from her mouth.

  Mark instinctively shielded his sister as Liz lunged, her nails digging into the side of his face as she tried to get to Abbey. He shoved her with his shoulder, and drunk as she was, she fell heavily to the floor. The solicitor leapt from his chair and wrestled the large paperweight out of Kenny’s hand before it connected with a human skull. It was over in minutes; nobody spoke at first, then Liz started to scream:

  “Police! Fucking call the police! I’ve been assaulted!” she screamed over and over.

  People rushed in, and Abbey and Mark were taken to another room as utter confusion descended on the office. Angry and upset, Abbey paced the room, but Mark was calm and focused. The police finally arrived, and Abbey could hear Liz’s voice crowing in delight as they approached her.

  “About fucking time. Arresting that bitch and bastard of a brother is too good for them,” she snarled at the top of her voice.

  Abbey didn’t hear the officer’s reply as his voice was low and quiet, but she didn’t need to as Liz filled in the blanks.

  “What do you mean, you’ve got to get the facts? I’ve just said, you stupid bastard. I’ve been assaulted.”

  Kenny intervened at this point. “Yeah, I’m a witness, I saw everything; he walloped her proper like,” he insisted.

  Liz was warned on numerous occasions to curb her use of bad language, or they would have to continue the interview at the station. Enraged, Liz was losing what little control she had left.

  “Look, that little bitch has got all of my Steve’s money. It’s not right, do you hear me?” she ranted. “She’s stinking rich herself, and now she wants what should be rightfully mine,” Liz snarled. The police officer in front of her did not seem to understand any of this; in fact, Liz got the distinct impression he was looking down on her and Kenny.

  “Look, when are you going to arrest the bitch’s brother?” It took all of Liz’s remaining self-control not to swear.

  “Yeah, we’ve been here for ages,” complained Kenny.

  “Madam, as I have explained, we are taking statements from all persons involved, and that takes time,” said the officer sharply.

  Interrupted by his colleague knocking on the door, he excused himself. A furious Liz and Kenny were then subsequently cuffed and removed from the solicitor’s offices. “God, I could kill the bitch. She doesn’t even need the money,” Liz howled. “This is fucking police brutality, you bastards!” Her wild eyes were fixed on the small, cowering receptionist. “You’re a witness to all this, do you hear me? I’ll sue you fuckers,” and then mercifully, they were gone.

  The solicitor, Mark, and Abbey had given full accounts, and they were now free to leave. Liz left Mark with three angry welts down the right-hand side of his face, but he didn’t seem to notice. The collaboration of their three statements had told the story of Liz’s alleged assault. Mark’s defensive move to protect both himself and Abbey which had knocked her to the floor, while Kenny had been disarmed before further harm could be done. The matter would be passed on to the police with Mark adamant that he would be pressing charges against both of them.

  He drove Abbey home, relieved to see both his parents open the door when they pulled into the driveway. He had called them after the incident at the lawyers; Abbey shouldn’t be alone and he couldn’t stay, so they were the next best thing. In shock, Abbey had said little on the journey home. He helped her out of the car and embraced her before saying his goodbyes. He’d winced at the feel of her, more bones than flesh. She had lost weight she could ill afford, another good reason to have Mum and Dad around her. They could feed her if nothing else and make sure she ate three proper meals a day. He knew they couldn’t stay forever but if they got her back on her feet, it would be a start.

  Abbey felt dazed and disoriented as she stepped into the hall. It took her several seconds to process why her mother was opening her front door. When had Mark called them? She had taken another pill to calm her nerves after the police told her they were free to leave. That was on top of the pills she’d taken earlier to get her through the reading of the will…but she needed it. She seemed to be moving like she was underwater, her body leaden, but at least she seemed calmer. The pills were working their magic.

  She shrugged off her coat and let her parents hug her before mumbling that she had to lie down. Without waiting for their answer, she wearily climbed the stairs, her mother close behind her. She no longer slept in the room she had shared with Steve but had moved to the smaller double at the end of the landing. It was the only place where she felt clean and untainted. She popped another pill from the strip on the bedside table and washed it down with a gulp of water, sensing her mo
ther’s disapproval. She didn’t even bother to undress before she slipped under the duvet, closing her eyes and welcoming the blackness.

  ***

  Molly

  Abbey’s mother stood wringing her hands, worry etched on her face as she gazed at her daughter, watching as Abbey’s breathing became regular and her gaunt face relaxed into sleep. Her daughter was fading away in front of her eyes, and the house looked ransacked, almost as if Abbey was searching for something, but what Molly was worried about was her state of mind. Something was bothering her; she was sure of it, something other than the death of her husband, as if that wasn’t bad enough. Molly had tried to talk to her, but she had just shaken her head, her eyes filling with tears, but not before she saw a flash of anger. Anger was natural, she had just lost her husband unexpectedly, but still Molly felt uneasy.

  Abbey wouldn’t discuss it with her mother, but Molly had her own thoughts. Something was eating away at Abbey. The fact she was no longer sleeping in the room she shared with Steve confirmed her suspicions. He must have been having another affair. Please, thought Molly, give her a break. No more newspaper articles…please. She would need to speak to Abbey. Steve was dead now; he couldn’t hurt her anymore; she must try to forget about his infidelities and move on. Sighing deeply, Molly left the room to prepare supper.

  Chapter 41

  THE BRAILLE CLUB

  Braille Club, London, Present Day: Benedict also made an exception for a friend of Siena’s. Lucy and she had met years ago, and Benedict had not wanted to refuse Siena’s request, but something about that girl troubled him. He had seen her type before, constantly looking for their next thrill and not caring how they got it. He wanted Siena to have nothing to do with her, the only thing he and Nick Waters agreed on.