Beginnings

by L. T. Smith

  ‘Will that stand up in court?’ Ash shrugged her shoulders, but still looked contented with the fact Spencer had eventually slipped up.

  ‘We checked his place out last night.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Let’s just say he’s a very sick man. The things he had stored there … things I can’t really divulge at the moment. We’re still collecting evidence.’ She grabbed my hand and brought my fingers up to her mouth. Then turned it over and kissed my palm. I stroked her cheek, needing to know if this was really happening or if it was an aftershock of the concussion.

  ‘I would tell you two to get a room, but you already have.’ We both looked at Jo. ‘I feel like a gooseberry. I’ll be outside.’ And she was off at a near run, the door slamming her on the arse as she left. As I was just about to slip my hand around Ash’s neck, Jo poked her head back around the door. ‘By the way… mum and dad are waiting.’

  ‘Tell them to hang on a few more minutes.’ She nodded and was gone.

  Then I slipped my hand around to the back of Ash’s head and pulled her to me, planted a soft kiss on her lips and then guided her head to my chest. I heard a contented sigh as she relaxed into me, and I wrapped my arms about her, as she did to me.

  And there we lay. In each other’s arms. Oblivious to the world and everyone in it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  THE NEXT FEW days flew by. Jo finished telling me what had actually happened. She had called me and got the scenario with Spencer, but it was the events after she had the attention of one dark haired woman that made my heart swell.

  Ash had eventually got the details from Jo … about what she had heard and what was happening. Jo told me she had never seen such a mixture of emotions lash through one person, and she should’ve guessed then it wasn’t just a working relationship we had going on. But she did say how impressed she’d been watching Ash organise everyone in the station in such a short amount of time.

  They had found my keys outside, but they couldn’t just walk in … they didn’t know what they were dealing with. Good job too, and I was in there and even I didn’t know what was going on. Eventually, they had the house surrounded and Ash had informed them she was going in the back way. Obviously, everyone didn’t want her to do it … said they had specialists lined up to get in and out of the house. But she insisted … said it was her case and she would do what she thought best for all parties.

  By all accounts, she had been outside the back for less than five minutes, trying to gauge her best course of action. She noticed the smashed kitchen window and was just about to go in when Read arrived … laughing to himself and rubbing his hands together. He was totally absorbed in being a smug little fucker that he didn’t even notice a six-foot woman climbing through a small window. No wonder he always got caught when he was up to something. He was thick.

  She came at him from behind, tried to take him down swiftly and quietly, but she didn’t allow for the fact he was holding a sugar canister in his hand. She whacked him on the side on the neck and he went down like a sack of spuds … and so did the glass container.

  No reaction from the other room. All she could hear was Spencer shouting at me and demanding for whatever I had in my hand.

  After the sound of me being slapped, all rationality went out of the window. She didn’t even consider if there were more than two people in the house … just needed to get to me. When she got to the living room door, there was Spencer on all fours scrabbling around looking for something. Then she went for him. Just leapt over and got him.

  The people on the outside, Jo being one of them, heard the commotion and decided it was time they made their move. They used the keys, as they would be quieter and not alert the occupants what was going on. But they could have used a bulldozer and still not have been noticed.

  The scene was violent, but Jo said her primary concern was getting to me. I was out of it … my eyes kept fluttering open, as if I was trying to focus but it just too difficult. When she placed her hand on my face she said I just went … flaked out. She thought I’d snuffed it and went ballistic.

  Ash had contained Spencer and two police officers fixed handcuffs on him.

  Then it was Ash who calmed Jo down, took her hand, and squeezed her fingers. It was Ash who gently pulled me forward and into her arms. It was Ash who stroked the side of my head … tenderly checking the cuts and swelling.

  It was Ash who laid me down and smoothed my hair.

  The ambulance crew came and took me away just as the coppers were dragging out a raging Spencer. Read came out like a lamb … handcuffs behind his back … his eyes completely submissive. He knew this time he wouldn’t get away with anything.

  After she stopped talking she just looked at her lap, her fingers refusing to sit still. Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, and I knew she wanted to say something else.

  ‘What?’ She looked back at her lap again. ‘Jo? Tell me.’ I leaned forward and grabbed her fingers pulling her hand and arm over to me. ‘Whatever it is … we need to get it out into the open.’

  A swallow. A look. A decision. ‘I’m sorry, Lou … so sorry.’

  I knew what she was apologising for, but couldn’t say anything … so I nodded. ‘I thought it was for the best … I thought if you made a fresh start – a clean break … then … you could get on with your life.’

  ‘But you knew how I felt about her, Jo. You knew how much I loved her.’

  She gripped my hand. ‘I knew how you felt. Had watched you agonise over Ash for so long, but I never knew she felt the same … never knew she loved you.’ Loved me. Jo said Ash had loved me.

  ‘How do you know that now, but not then?’

  ‘Cos she told me … yesterday. Said we had been wrong to make a decision that involved you without telling you.’ Jo leaned closer to me, fully capturing my attention. ‘And then she said she understood why I had done it … why we had both done it … because we both loved you … in different ways.’

  ‘She said that? She said she loved me?’

  ‘And Lou … I think she still does.’

  I didn’t hear anything else that she said. I was too absorbed with the words, ‘I think she still does’.

  My heart was leaping about inside my chest, but my head was saying ‘Please let her still love me … please.’

  The next thing I knew, I was buried in my sister’s arms and she was crying into my hair. ‘I love you, Lou … I’m so sorry … so sorry.’

  I wanted to tell her it was ok … it was in the past, but I couldn’t. Not because I didn’t forgive her … nope. Because I couldn’t breathe.

  So, like all good sisters … I gave her a hug that knocked the wind out of her sails.

  Ash came every day to see me, but nothing was mentioned about … erm … anything really. She just chatted about the case and how Jo could stand as a witness to what had happened. They had raided Spencer’s place and found quite a bit of evidence, and that was another nail in his coffin.

  He had pictures of me and Jo … of Jo’s kids coming out of school … of my mum and dad. Fucking freaky to say the least. It all pointed to one thing.

  When he’d finished with me, he was going after the rest of them.

  I can’t, with all honesty, hand on heart (and all that jazz), swear that he would have killed me. His main focus was to let me know how angry he was at being second best, never once contemplating that when it came to our father … we were all second best.

  Enough about him … enough about how fucked up he had made Spencer … how he had destroyed more than one person’s life, and how his actions had nearly cost us our lives. And if I never saw him again for as long as I lived, it would be a day too soon.

  I could justify all this and say without him I would never have seen Ash again, but wasn’t it his fault in the first place that I was dragged out of bed in the middle of the night, loaded into a taxi with bin bags as a suitcase, and ultimately lost Ash in the first place?

  I know. I said ‘enough
’ about him, but sometimes we have to go through the same things in our minds just to try and make some sense of it all. Then again, however many times I went through any event that involved him … it would never make sense.

  Back to Ash. Yes … you, like me, want to know what is going to happen next. At least you didn’t have to wait for the ultimate knock back … didn’t sit with baited breath waiting for the yay or nay. You didn’t even have the agony of loving her so much you thought if she walked out of your life you would just curl up and die.

  Now. I’m not saying you have never experienced this … or never will … just not with Ash … not my Ash.

  I, on the other hand, wasn’t as fortunate.

  Seeing her come in every day. Feeling the tenderest of kisses on my lips. Looking into those eyes that consumed me. Having her so close to me yet so distant. I wanted to just ask her … ask her to tell me what would happen next … or maybe the clichéd ‘Where do we go from here?’ But I was too scared what the answer would be.

  I know you may disagree with me to some extent, but I was no fool. I knew her life was in Manchester. Knew her job … her home … her family … everything was nearly two hundred miles away. And the same for me. Everything I had was here.

  But everything I wanted was going away from me … going back to her life without me in it. And that made my stomach clench and unclench … not to mention the feelings it had inside my chest.

  To say it was agony would be redundant. A euphemism even. I can’t put into words how I was feeling; how this situation made me ache.

  Six days after being admitted, I was allowed home, and I was escorted by the woman who occupied my every waking moment … and sleeping ones too. The swelling on my face had gone, and there was just the ghost of bruising on my cheek and inside my mouth. It was the bloody butterfly stitches that were the bastard … itched like buggery… if buggery itched, that is.

  Standing outside my house, I felt a panic charge through me. I know, completely irrational. The man who had held me prisoner and made me fear for my life was held in the cells at Bethel Street police station. He couldn’t hurt me now. But the mind is a funny bugger … plays tricks and recreates scenarios again and again. Usually the ones you don’t want to relive.

  ‘Here. Let me.’

  Ash took the key from my hand and swiftly unlocked the door. I stood there … hesitated momentarily … then stepped inside.

  Total recall.

  Me being dragged back inside by an irate Spencer. Me being slammed against the door with his face thrust into my own. Me waking up in the front room facing a stranger who was out to hurt me.

  I squinted my eyes trying in vain to dispel the images, straightening my back and shoulders as if that was going to help. Her hand was on my back and she was gently brushing her palm up and down in soothing strokes. I felt the tension begin to disperse and evaporate … just by a touch.

  ‘Come. Sit down. I’ll make us a cuppa.’ And I was guided into the front room. The blood began to pound again as my eyes raced around the room seeking evidence of the events from nearly a week ago. But it was clean … sorted … in order. All except for one thing that seemed out of place.

  One thing that was neatly folded over the arm of the settee.

  Something red and small.

  Something that seemed so vulnerable and out of place.

  Something that ultimately belonged to the woman standing right behind me.

  I don’t even have to tell you what it was. But as my eyes landed on it, a mixture of emotions charged through me. Pain. Regret. Longing. Hurt. Anger. I think you get the drift.

  Then the definitive feeling surged up … a feeling of being exposed. What would Ash think if she saw the jumper? Would she think I was some kind of freak? I had to get rid of it – and quick.

  I think it was this thought that moved me forward and into the room.

  Just as my hands slipped around the softness, her voice came clearly from behind.

  ‘I was surprised you had kept that for this long.’

  Fuck.

  ‘I doubt I’ll fit in that now.’

  Double fuck and mashed potatoes.

  I mean, what do you say? I’d been caught, red jumper handed, and my face was matching the colour of the wool, if not outdoing it in brightness.

  Her body was right behind me now, and I knew she would be looking over my shoulder, if the feeling of her breath on my skin was any indication. It had a lovely cooling quality.

  ‘Do you remember that day, Lou? God … we were so wet. The rain came from nowhere didn’t it?’

  Strange. But this was the first time we’d ever discussed that day. We had talked about me leaving in the dead of night, but not that day … the day that was etched into my memory like an oasis. It was, as I’ve said before, one of my favourite memories. The day we went to Concroft Park. It was the day I realised Ash was everything I would ever want or need in my life.

  And that was still true even now.

  I didn’t even realise I had lifted the jumper to my face … didn’t realise I was crying into it until I felt her arms around me, turning me, holding me. Being there like she had always been. But unlike that day, now I knew I loved her … not in a friend loving a friend way … but loved her … was in love with her.

  That hurt even more. Because now I knew she would be leaving me instead of the other way round. And there was nothing I could do.

  Was there?

  Was there something I could do to stop history partly repeating itself?

  I could tell her. Let her know I wanted this forever. Tell her she was my everything. My all. My reason.

  But what if she didn’t want that? What if the night we had spent together was enough? What if Jo had been wrong and she had loved me then but not now?

  Dare I risk it all?

  Christ! Any more questions? Fuck.

  Why couldn’t I just stop sniffling in her arms, look into her eyes, cup her face and tell her … tell her … tell her? What could be so bad? The worst she could do was say no.

  And that’s what stopped me.

  Her saying no. I honestly believed that hearing her utter that single syllable word would be my undoing.

  I didn’t even realise I was gripping her like a man on a life raft cast out at sea. My face was so far into her neck I had trouble breathing anything else but her, but that’s all I wanted to breathe … her… her scent … commit it to memory alongside the scent from the red jumper and the smell of the rain.

  ‘Hey, Lou … you ok?’ I nodded into her and gripped onto her even more than the aforementioned clichéd man on a life raft. ‘Come on … sit down. I’ll make us a cuppa.’

  It surprised me that she didn’t to have prise my fingers from her as she pulled away. I think it was a subconscious decision on my part to let go … and not only now … but …

  I sat there and waited for her to come back with two steaming mugs, the jumper dangling flaccidly from my hand, resignation apparent. I lifted my gaze to be captured by blue eyes, which surveyed me … the expression open and raw.

  Tentatively she placed the drinks on the table and sat down next to me, turning her whole body to face me. I kept my eyes averted … couldn’t bear the scrutiny … didn’t think I could be strong enough.

  ‘Lou?’ I answered her with a weak yes. ‘Look at me.’ I flicked my eyes to her and then back to looking straight ahead. ‘Look at me.’ Her hand came and cupped my face, turning it towards her and holding it in place.

  ‘Can I tell you something?’ I nodded into her open palm. ‘Are you sure you want to hear it?’ I paused … and then nodded again. The butterflies in my stomach were going crazy. ‘Sure?’ I fixed my eyes onto hers, my breathing hitching, knowing that this ‘something’ would either make or break me. A nod. She swallowed, but her eyes never left mine. Then it came.

  ‘I love you.’

  Three little words. That’s all they were. Three little words … but they were the three little words I had lo
nged for nearly all of my life, but only if they were uttered by the woman who was not just holding my face in her hands, but my heart … my future … my reason to be.

  ‘I love you.’ There they were again … palpable … assured and … waiting for a response from me instead of wide eyed wonder.

  ‘I … I … I…’ The words were jamming in my throat … not because of nerves or fear, but bloody excitement.

  ‘You don’t have to say it back just because I said it.’ Her face tried to look non-plussed, but I could see a shadow appear behind her eyes.

  ‘I … I…’ I was sounding like a retard … and she was pulling away from me. And I still couldn’t get the words out. So I did what any self-respecting person who had swallowed her feet would do. I kissed her. Hard. With everything I had. If I couldn’t say it, I had to show her.

  Her lips were unreceptive at first, but I carried on. Needed her to know … needed her to understand I loved her too. I cupped the back of her head and pulled her in, deepening the kiss … deepening the contact. Her mouth opened a little and my tongue took its chance and slipped inside.

  She sucked at it. Caressed it. Loved it. And I felt her falling backwards onto the couch taking me with her. I was sprawled over her body; my mouth devouring her, my hands eagerly stroked her face, her throat and shoulders until I had one on either side of her.

  Then I pulled back, pulled away from the kiss and just looked at her underneath me.

  ‘I love you, Ash … so much … so much.’ The grin spliced her face and she grabbed the back of my head and pulled me back down to capture my mouth with hers again.

  I was falling inside her, headlong, unguarded. And I was so happy to finally let go.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  HOW WE MADE it upstairs is beyond me … but we did. Can’t remember undressing … can’t remember lying back … can only remember the feel of her skin on mine as she lowered herself down on top of me.

  The feeling was pure heaven. Skin slipped together like silk… caressing yet smooth. Hands coaxed and guided, worshipped and revered, our bodies sacrosanct. Permission to touch left fingertips awed.