Alicia’s heart lurched.
Stopping, she turned and walked slowly back. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, her voice barely a whisper.
‘I see.’ Justin shook his head.
‘I didn’t mean it to happen.’ Alicia took another step in. ‘I don’t know why I—’
‘How many times, Alicia?’ he asked. ‘How many times did you not mean it to happen?’
And there it was. Alicia closed her eyes. The reason he could never, ever believe she hadn’t meant to hurt him as cruelly as she had. It was impossible. ‘I’d been drinking. More than I normally would. I…’ She trailed hopelessly off, the ominous tick of the clock growing louder still as she struggled for any way to explain herself that didn’t scream her guilt.
‘I think it might be an idea if you did go, Alicia,’ he said, his tone hoarse.
And Alicia felt her heart fold up inside her. Swallowing, she half turned to the door, and then wavered. ‘I thought she would save you,’ she murmured. ‘Sophie. I thought she would give you something to live for.’
‘She did,’ Justin said throatily.
But Sophie wasn’t here any more.
And now he had nothing.
Fifty-Three
JUSTIN
Justin didn’t even hear the door close as Alicia left. He was deep in thought, his mind going back to the time he now guessed it had all happened: the nights she’d supposedly stayed at a girlfriend’s. To the first time she’d stayed, when she hadn’t been very well. A hangover, she said. She hadn’t looked well.
Painful though it was to be in there, Justin went up to their bedroom, feeling compelled to check their photo albums. He wasn’t sure what for. A need for visual clarification of the milestones in their marriage, maybe?
They’d been to one of her friend’s weddings a few days after; Alicia had been a bridesmaid. Justin remembered that bleak time in their relationship painfully well, because that was when he’d made up his mind he needed help. Seeing Alicia so closed in on herself, realising how badly he’d shut her out, he’d made a monumental effort to be more social, to be there for her. She’d been pale and drawn at the wedding and the reception, only half listening to the conversation around her, to him. He’d been scared they might be about to split up, and he’d redoubled his efforts. Depression, like a suffocating grey blanket, was still pressing down on him, but he’d woken up to the fact that, while trying to deal with his grief, he’d been pushing her away for a long time. If he didn’t do something about it, he was going to lose her. The day of the wedding, he’d desperately wanted to show her how much he’d loved her, and had prayed it wasn’t too late. She’d still had the bug in her system, though, so intimacy hadn’t been an option. He’d hoped that was the truth. That she’d still wanted him.
It had been the night after that when they’d finally talked, when he’d opened up to her about how he felt. Guilty. As guilty as hell. He hadn’t been able to get it out of his mind, the image of his sister bleeding out from her knife wounds on the hall floor. She’d tried to run. She’d been breathing, barely. But she’d been alive. Might have lived, had his medical knowledge not deserted him. By the time the paramedics had arrived, it had been too late. He’d watched the lifeblood ebb from her body, powerless to stop it. There’d been no way to move on, to even begin to process his grief. He been stuck, unable to forgive himself, unable to shed the tears he’d desperately needed to.
He’d broken his bloody heart when he’d ashamedly confessed all that to Alicia, which had been therapeutic in itself, releasing the stop valve on his emotions. They’d moved forwards after that, been stronger as a couple. There for each other. Or so he’d thought.
Pulling open the drawer they kept the albums in, he pulled a few out, flicking through them. Realising the top few were more recent ones, where Alicia had painstakingly recorded memories of Luke, he placed them carefully aside, the pain of his loss far too raw. Delving further, he found another recent one: photos of Alicia, pregnant with Luke, radiant, smiling, never in her worst nightmares imagining she would be burying her son before his first birthday.
Swallowing emotionally, Justin placed that along with the others on the bed. He searched in the drawer for older albums, rifling through various bits of paper and certificates, and realised they were missing. Simply not there. Surely to God they hadn’t been stolen? Hadn’t Alicia kept her scan photos in here, too, for both Sophie and Luke? Where the hell were they?
He pulled his phone from his pocket and headed up to the third floor, where he knew their disorganised collection of older photos were still boxed in the spare room. The ones he’d been particularly interested in looking at would most likely be in there. In the meantime, he would very much like to know where the others were. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to steal family photographs, unless they were a member of that family – namely Alicia. He knew this meant that she didn’t intend to come back.
His thumb hovering over her number, he hesitated. Did he really want to speak to her now, after the conversation they’d just had? No, not yet. That was still too raw as well. Going into the spare room, he located the box he was looking for and began sifting through it as he selected Jessica’s number.
‘Hey, Jess, sorry to bother you,’ he said, pulling photos out and examining them as he spoke. ‘I’m guessing you’re at work.’
‘Trust me, I’d rather talk to you,’ Jessica said brightly.
‘Not that scintillating then?’
‘The work? No. Talking to you, however…’ Jessica joked.
Justin wasn’t sure he’d ever been scintillating. ‘Can I ask you something, Jess?’
‘Ask away.’
‘Do you know if Alicia brought some photographs with her to your house? Family albums?’
Jessica thought about it. ‘I’m not sure. Are they not there then?’
‘No. Definitely missing. Most of them, in fact, apart from very recent ones and some older photos going way back. But I can’t imagine anyone would want them.’
‘Apart from Alicia.’ Jessica echoed his own thoughts. ‘Oh dear, she probably has then.’ She paused. ‘Look, I wouldn’t worry about it, Justin. That’s not necessarily a bad sign, is it? That’s she’s taken them, I mean. She probably just wants some reminders of her children around her.’
Or more likely she was taking things she definitely wanted to keep before they reached the stage of dividing their property. It was clear from what Jessica had said that she was thinking along the same lines.
‘I take it you didn’t get much chance to talk then?’ Jessica asked. ‘With that DI Taylor being there, I mean. His timing wasn’t great, was it?’
‘No.’ Justin frowned. ‘No, it wasn’t. You did let Alicia know they were due to arrive this morning? Taylor said he’d left a message with you.’
‘Yes.’ Jessica said assuredly. ‘I knew she was meeting you, so I made sure to. Why?’
So why the hell would Alicia lie about it, Justin wondered. She hadn’t used it as an excuse to postpone. She’d met him there, as they’d arranged. She hadn’t actually said very much – but then he wasn’t very receptive to hearing anything she might have to say. It made no sense to him whatsoever. ‘No reason,’ he said, then, finding the photos he was looking for, added, ‘I’d better go. Thanks, Jess.’
‘No problem. I’m worried about you, Justin. I’m here if you ever need to talk.’
‘Er, yes, thanks.’ Justin’s frown deepened as he ended the call.
Fifty-Four
ALICIA
A deluge of freezing rain soaking through her clothes, seemingly to her bones. Alicia pulled her coat tight. Shivering as the wind whipped overhanging branches and fat raindrops plopped moodily around her, she wrapped her arms about herself and continued through the part of the cemetery where once proud Victorian headstones had submitted to the elements. Walking on, past weathered stones and wingless cherubs, she avoided reading the inscriptions. She didn’t need any reminders of how short li
fe was.
Reaching her destination, a secluded spot surrounded by beech trees and overlooked by the church, she stopped. I don’t think a cup of tea’s going to fix this, Mum, she said silently, gulping back the lump like granite that was wedged in her chest. Swiping a tear from her cheek, she took a step closer, then looked to the pregnant grey sky and sank to her knees. ‘Sorry, baby,’ she said out loud to little Lucas. ‘Mummy’s not crying, sweetheart. It’s just rain. Just the rain.’
Her jeans already saturated and heavy, she didn’t care about the wet mud seeping through to her skin. She just wanted to stay here a little while with those she needed to hold her, those she needed to hold so badly.
She didn’t hear her phone at first, buried deep in her pocket. A message alert. She felt sure it was Justin, but she didn’t scramble for it. There didn’t seem to be much point any more. There was nothing she could say to him. Nothing she could stand to hear him say. Not just now. They couldn’t fix each other’s hurt. They had been able to once. They’d talked all night, made love the next morning and she’d held him then, held him so tight that she’d been scared she might hurt him physically. He’d bared his soul to her. Told her how scared he was, how inadequate he felt after losing his family. She’d sworn she would do whatever she could so that he would never hurt like that again. She would extract herself from the situation with Paul Radley by any means possible. But then Paul Radley had extracted himself from her life – suddenly. Miraculously, she’d thought then. She’d truly thought it was a sign that not telling Justin the child she was carrying might not be his was the right thing to do. Her man was hurting, and she could help him. She could provide him a family.
Oh God. Burying her face in her hands, Alicia allowed the tears to come. How wrong had she been? Had she been mistaken about everything? Every time she thought about it, every time she’d listened to Paul talking about her deceit, her denying him the right to see his child, a new doubt crept in.
Going over it yet again, half of her screaming at her that she was right, the other half telling her she could have been so wrong, she stayed where she was for a while. Rain and tears dripping down her face, she told Luke she had a cold, that was all. That’s why she seemed a little bit teary-eyed. A little white lie, this time to protect her child.
She checked her phone eventually. Justin had sent a text. Did you take the photograph albums? That was all it said. No sign-off. Nothing. She’d hoped he might have been trying to contact her to say he’d changed his mind and wanted to talk after all, to listen to what she had to say. Though what she could actually tell him she was growing steadily more unsure of. There was no hope now. She knew that. In looking for the albums, he’d obviously been seeking to salvage what memories she hadn’t poisoned. Or perhaps he was trying to clarify in his mind that they were all fake memories, woven around the lie she’d told, the life they’d built based on that lie. It had all come crashing down. The foundations had been crumbling since day one, and now it was submitting to the elements, just like the forgotten Victorian headstones. She couldn’t stop it. She was too weak. She always had been.
No. She texted back. And then she muted her phone. Not because she thought he might ring or text again. But because she thought he might not.
Fifty-Five
JUSTIN
As Justin walked towards the pub, he passed a couple who were obviously worse for wear. Seeing the girl hunched under her boyfriend’s arm, which was possessively draped about her, he couldn’t help but notice the bruising on her arms. Justin felt his gut clench. He’d seen it too many times, in his work in accident and emergency, treating women with smashed faces, broken bones and bruises that had obviously been caused by a fist.
Pulling his attention away from where it very probably wasn’t wanted, he attempted to focus on his own problems, on what he would do next in regard to Sophie, and his marriage.
He needed to talk to Alicia again – obviously he would need to do that. Unfortunately, she wasn’t answering his calls or his texts. She was okay; she’d a hot bath and gone to bed early with a glass of wine and a book, Jessica had said. But after their conversation earlier, had she really? He couldn’t see it. Just couldn’t.
Following the couple into the pub, he noted the inside was much like others he’d been in in the area: decor circa nineties; depressing smoke; yellow and brown. Stepping into the lounge, which was much the same as the bar area, dark and dingy, he didn’t draw much attention. Wearing jeans and a T-shirt, he made sure to fit in with the general clientele, rather than be mistaken for the law, which he had been once or twice. At such times, he’d found, people weren’t very forthcoming.
Locating the man’s whereabouts at a table at the back wall, Justin saw he now had his arm hooked around the girl’s neck, yanking her towards him. Judging by the girl’s body language, she wasn’t a willing participant in the not-so-loving embrace.
‘Dean… Get off!’ she said, scowling and clearly upset as she attempted to pull away from him.
The guy only tightened his grip, his expression one of obvious contempt as he snarled something in her ear.
‘I did not!’ the girl refuted. ‘Dean, for God’s sake, pack it in!’ she shouted, struggling to break free of him and then scrambling hastily away.
The ‘boyfriend’ was up in an instant, grabbing the girl’s wrist and dragging her back. ‘Sit the fuck down!’ he bellowed, shoving her hard onto the bench seat. ‘Where’re you going, hey? To that tosser you’ve been having it off with, is that it?’
‘No!’ she screamed. ‘You’re mental, Dean. I haven’t been near anyone else, I keep telling you. Those drugs are doing your head in.’
‘You’re going nowhere.’ The guy leaned in to clutch a fistful of her top and pull her up again. ‘You fucking slut.’
It was the slap, a stinging blow across her face, that had Justin’s temper snapping, launching him across the room in a second flat.
‘Let her go,’ he seethed, as the man clamped a hand around the girl’s throat, shoving her hard against the wall.
‘Fuck off,’ the guy spat in his direction, and squeezed harder.
Justin looked from him to the girl’s face. She was gagging – literally gasping for breath. What the hell was the matter with everybody, standing around letting this happen?
‘I said, let her go!’ Justin took a step forward.
‘You want some an’ all, do ya?’ The man glared at him, his bloodshot eyes bulging with fury. ‘Back off!’
Seeing him turning his attention back to the girl, Justin reacted instinctively. ‘I said let her go,’ he warned him. ‘You’ll kill her.’ Intending to drag him off her, he moved meaningfully towards him, and the man turned on him like a rabid dog. Spitting obscenities, he seized Justin’s shirt, pulling him forward and landing first one, and then two, heavy blows to his jaw.
Stumbling backwards into a table, Justin held his footing – just – as the man advanced towards him, his face puce and contorted with rage. ‘You really shouldn’t have done that,’ he said. His own temper spiking, he righted himself, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and stood to face him.
The man stopped, his chest heaving, his eyes full of violent malevolence, though Justin saw a flash of uncertainty.
A coward, Justin thought, standing his ground. They all were – cowardly scum, picking on people who didn’t have a chance of fighting back.
‘Tosser.’ The man’s mouth curled into a snarl as he stepped towards Justin, and then shoved violently past him.
Cursing liberally as he went, the man strode on and banged out of the exit, and Justin breathed a huge sigh of relief. The guy was bigger than he was. Heavier. Justin wasn’t sure he would have been able to hold his own. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked, turning back to the girl.
She nodded shakily. ‘Yeah, thanks,’ she said. ‘He goes a bit mental sometimes. He’ll cool off eventually.’
Justin sighed inwardly. It sounded like she’d probably accept his apologies, w
hich would no doubt be profuse – until the next time. ‘Do you want me to call anybody?’ he offered. ‘Give you a lift somewhere?’
‘No.’ She shook her head and indicated her phone. ‘I’ve called my brother. He’s on his way.’
Justin nodded. ‘I’ll be at the bar,’ he said, intending to stick around until the brother showed up. ‘You might want to do yourself a favour and find someone who doesn’t talk with his fists,’ he suggested. ‘You only get one life. Why waste it on someone like that?’
‘I don’t intend to,’ she assured him. ‘I’m going to college. Gonna get away from him.’
‘Sounds like a plan.’ Justin smiled, despite the sharp ache in his jaw.
Going back to the bar, keeping one eye on the girl until the brother arrived, Justin rang Jessica. He needed answers. If he wasn’t going to get those answers from Alicia, then he needed to meet up with Jessica, in private – something, it was occurring to him, she seemed pretty damn desperate to do. She might not have all the answers, but she was Alicia’s bloody sister. She would have some of them. Or she ought to. If she’d been ‘sworn to secrecy’, as she’d repeated more than once, Justin wanted to know exactly what about. The affair? The pregnancy? If she’d known about the affair, and he was working on the assumption that she had, then he needed the details. He hadn’t wanted to hear them before, but he did now, every single sordid one of them.
Arranging to meet Jessica the next evening, Justin ended his call, and watched as a man came into the pub and walked directly across to the girl. Seeing her jump up to meet him, he waited for her to pass by. Relieved when she gave him a thumbs up as she did, he knocked the dregs of his pint back and headed out after them.
He’d gone no more than a few yards when his progress was cut short, by first one, then two, and finally three thuggish men. Justin didn’t have time to consider his options before he was dead-legged from behind.
The Affair_A gripping psychological thriller with a shocking twist Page 20
