The Grey Woman: You never know who's watching

by M J Hardy

  Thinking of Ronnie makes me sad. How did it all go so badly wrong? Why start an affair when things were good at home because they were? It’s only the last couple of years that things changed and now I know why. His letter begged me not to hate him, but how can I not? He has destroyed what we had and there’s no going back.

  Then I think about the man who is after him, and my heart beats a little faster. If it was him, he may be back when I’m home and beat it out of me. Suddenly, I realise what a dangerous situation I’m in and my heart sinks and my knees tremble. I need to leave, but where?

  I’m not sure why I even thought it was a good idea, but I reach for my phone and dial the number I should avoid at all costs. Even as I listen to it ring, I know I’ve made a big mistake, but something is telling me it’s the only solution. “What is it?”

  His tone is as harsh as always and yet somehow the tears fall for a different reason his time.

  With a break to my voice, I stutter, “I’m sorry, Julian, I’m in trouble.”

  Immediately, I sense a change in tone as he says urgently. “Where are you?”

  The tears refuse to stay hidden and I sob, “At home, but somebody’s been here.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  He cuts the call and I sob with relief because if I need anyone right now, it’s my boss because I need a man of action and he is the sort who will get results and fast.

  Wrapping my arms around me, I cry hard for the life I lost and the man that went with it. I cry for my own actions of the past few months and the broken dreams I held so high. I cry for the woman in me who thought she could do better, and I cry for the fact I’m so tired of it all.

  It must be thirty minutes later, a loud banging on my door brings me to my feet and I hold my breath as I fear the reason for it. What if it’s Stuart and his thugs come to claim what’s theirs but then I hear a terse, “For God’s sake, Emma open the bloody door.”

  The relief hits me hard as I stumble towards it and as I fling it open, I stare at the man I love to hate and the tears fall fast. He looks shocked and for some reason, his first instinct is to pull me towards him and wrap his arms around me, saying softly, “It’s ok, you’re safe now.”

  Strangely, it doesn’t feel wrong being in his arms in the home I shared with Ronnie, which surprises me more than anything. He pulls away a little and says gently, “Tell me what happened.”

  “The house, someone has been here. They’re searching for something and may come back.”

  He looks around and says in surprise, “It looks ok to me.”

  Feeling a little foolish, I shake my head and say weakly, “It’s a long story.”

  Closing the door behind him, he takes my hand and pulls me into the living room and forces me to sit on the faded settee we’ve had for close on five years.

  Sitting beside me, he takes my hand and squeezes it gently and says in a surprisingly gentle voice, “Then you had better start at the beginning.”

  In a monotone voice, I tell him everything. About Ronnie, the arguments, the fact he left me and then Caroline’s visit and the story she told. When I reach the end, he shakes his head in amazement. “That’s a lot to deal with on your own.”

  I nod miserably and he says firmly, “You can’t stay here, it’s not safe. Come, you can stay at the house tonight and then we’ll discuss a more permanent solution tomorrow.”

  “But…” he places his finger on my lips and says with a hint of steel in his voice. “Don’t argue with me, Emma, and just do as you’re told. I’m not taking no for an answer. Grab your things and I mean enough for a month and we will make sure everything is sorted.

  He pulls me up and I allow myself to be ordered around as I’m used to by now. It doesn’t take me long to pack a couple of suitcases and as he loads them into his car, I take a long, lingering look at the house that holds so many memories.

  Then I turn the key on my past and walk towards an uncertain future.

  28

  We stay silent for the journey and I think I must be in shock because I can’t stop shaking. Julian turns up the heater on his car and plays some soft music, and I allow him to take charge. It feels nice to be cared for after the last few months, where I have been so alone and as we speed through the night, I wish we could stay like this forever.

  When we arrive at Julian’s impressive home, he drives to a separate building set behind his large mansion.

  “This is the guest house, it’s yours for the night. You should find everything you need and what you don’t have, Nicola will fetch for you.”

  As I look around Julian’s guest house, I am blown away. It’s bigger than my actual house and much grander. It’s modern, clean and comfortable and has everything a girl could ever wish for.

  Even the kitchen is stocked and he flings open the fridge and nods his approval. “Good, I called ahead and told Nicola to make sure there were supplies.

  As he turns around, I say in a whisper, “Thank you.”

  His face looks different somehow, more relaxed, less stressed, and his eyes are bright as he smiles with a kindness I rarely see in him. “You’re welcome. I’m just glad you called.”

  “Are you?” There is surprise in my voice and he nods.

  “Believe it or not, Emma, I care about you. I care about your personal safety and would hate to see anything happen to you.”

  He laughs at the disbelief that must show on my face and heads across, once again taking my hand and leading me to a comfortable settee in a light airy room.

  “When I first met you, the day you walked uninvited into my office, I was interested. Nobody had ever done anything like that before and you had balls – I liked it. Even when I tore you down, you had a strength to you that impressed me, unlike the usual victims of my acid tongue who crumbled before my eyes. Over the past few weeks, you have risen to the challenge and worked hard and without question. I am very demanding – I know that, and yet you coped when you had no experience. So, you see, Emma, I think you might just be the strongest woman I have ever met and when you called today with fear in your voice, I knew it had to be something bad. So, don’t thank me because I owe you this one at least. Just settle in knowing you are safe and tomorrow we will deal with the situation.”

  He stands. “Ok, I’ll leave you to it. Meet me by my car at 7am. Tomorrow looks to be a busy day.”

  As he leaves, I stare at the door he left through for a very long time. He has surprised me – again. One minute I hate him with every fibre of my being and want to throttle him on the spot. Then he does something so lovely I think I fall in love with him a little more. Love and hate are balancing a very fine line here, which makes me think about his marriage. Does Cressida have the same feelings towards him? Does she love him fiercely and with passion and want to kill him the next?

  Uncomfortable at the way my thoughts are heading, I distract myself by exploring their lovely home. I feel a pang of envy as I register the rich, expensive furniture that I doubt gets much use. The tasteful accessories that look to have cost more than I have made in my lifetime dazzle me. The sheer decadence of having a home within a home and a place for guests to stay away from the main house is the impossible dream and it feels as if nothing can touch me here and I am safe in a little corner of paradise.

  7am and I wait beside Julian’s car with my teeth chattering. It’s a frosty morning and I have just a thin coat. Blowing on my hands, I wish for the umpteenth time that he would hurry up and keep stealing looks towards the house, praying for the large wooden door to open. After ten minutes waiting, I begin to think he is doing this on purpose and watching me freeze is just another one of his sadistic games.

  Finally, my prayers are answered and the door opens and my heart flutters as he jogs down the steps in a padded coat, looking so hot I feel the warmth thaw me instantly.

  Clicking the lock on his car, he says abruptly, “Get in.”

  No ‘Good morning, I trust you slept well.’ Just the terse orders of a m
an with no polite conversation.

  I need no further invitation and sit shivering in the seat, desperate for the heater to start working as a matter of urgency.

  As he starts the engine and waits for the frost to melt off the screen, he plugs in his phone and says in a deep voice, “We have a busy day today, Emma. We are falling behind and I need to catch up. There are to be no distractions today.”

  I say nothing as he moves the car away from his impressive home and we start the journey to work. It doesn’t take long for the heated seats to warm my frozen bones and as the heater gets to work on my feet, I relax in the comfort of a powerful sports car. This car, like the man who drives it, cuts through life with power and command. It overtakes the slower, less able machines and roars past, shoving them firmly in their place behind it. I can see why people desire such objects because as aphrodisiacs go, money is a powerful one. However, I am fast realising you pay with your soul and I’m not prepared to do that anymore.

  Thirty minutes into the journey, Julian says, “Regarding the break in at your home.”

  My heart leaps and I whisper nervously, “What about it?”

  “I spent the night looking into what you told me. I’ve instructed an investigator I use to look into it and report back. I’ve given him the details of your husband, the man after him, and your address. I just wanted to let you know it’s in hand and not to think of it.”

  I feel weak with relief and a warm feeling spreads over me. It feels good that he’s helping and it makes me warm to him even more, but then he says roughly, “I can’t have you distracted from my business. It’s most irritating and we don’t have time for it.”

  “Excuse me?” I know I sound hurt and annoyed and he snaps, “Deal with it, Emma because I hired you to do a job. Your personal life cannot distract you from what I’ve employed you to do. I know what women are like and you won’t be able to think of anything else. Your work will suffer and you’ll be of no use to me.”

  I feel the rage twist the knot that sits inside me and say tightly, “God forbid I would let my own problems interfere with yours. You know, Julian, last night I thought I saw a glimmer of hope that you were actually human. I revised my opinion of you because you were so kind. Now I can see it was just for your own reasons, and I can’t believe I was so stupid to think that you actually had a heart. Well, for your information, I have lived with this situation, as you call it, for quite a while now and it hasn’t once stopped me from doing my job. So, just fuck off, Julian and give me just a little credit and allow me to upset that my home was broken into and some crazy criminal is out to get me. I know that may irritate you and get in the way of your plans, but hard luck, it can’t be helped. What can I say, life’s a bitch and you should know more about that than most of us because you’re the biggest bitch in the life of everyone that knows you?”

  His laughter stops me in my tracks and I shout, “Are you laughing at me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why, of course?”

  “Because you amuse me, Emma. I love winding you up, it’s so easy and helps pass the time. You see, I can read you like a book and you never disappoint me. You know, car sharing is such fun, don’t you agree?”

  “Stupid prick.”

  I murmur my response and look out of the window, and Julian just laughs even more. However, the mood in the car has lifted a little and I turn away so he can’t see the smile on my lips. For all his attitude, I kind of like sparring with him. Now I understand a little of how he ticks, I don’t feel a fraction of the hurt his words are designed to inflict. Once again, I realise how far I’ve fallen if I think this is acceptable and once again, decide that the sooner I get another job and leave this madness behind, the better.

  29

  Julian wasn’t wrong. We have fallen behind and the day rushes past in work, more work, followed by even more work. He is rude, demanding and irritable and I rush around like a headless chicken with a head filled with facts, figures and deadlines. I’ve lost count of the files I located for him and the calls I’ve made to set up meetings and book restaurants. I’ve made more coffee than a man should surely have the ability to stand and turned more people away than ever before, much to their disgust.

  The day passes in a blur and soon the memory of the sandwiches I grabbed from the canteen at lunchtime are a distant memory. 7pm comes and I am on my knees. I am tired, hungry and mentally exhausted, which is actually a good thing because I haven’t thought about my own problems all day. There hasn’t been time and as I shut down my computer, it suddenly strikes me that I was only allowed one night at Julian’s guest house and I feel the fear returning as I wonder if he expects me to return home.

  Then again, my things are still at his guest house, so I’m not so sure.

  He interrupts my thoughts by heading my way with a terse, “Get your coat.”

  I quickly do as he says and follow him, as usual ten steps behind, as he races for the lift.

  Once inside, he punches the button angrily and runs his fingers through his hair, the only indication that he, like me, is exhausted.

  Feeling his eyes on me, I glance up and see a storm in his eyes and swallow hard as he says, “You look hungry, we’ll grab something on the way.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Home, of course.”

  Feeling a little silly, I say, “What, my home?”

  “Of course not, don’t be obtuse, my home. I told you that you weren’t going back there until it’s sorted.”

  I feel weak with relief and it must show because he says in a softer voice. “We don’t have time for your problems, so it suits me that you stay close to hand. The guest house is yours until further notice while we deal with what’s important.”

  “Which is?” I already know the answer but want the bastard to voice it for once, which he appears happy to do. “The most important thing at the moment, Emma, is me. The most important thing in the foreseeable future, is me. So, you see, you could be staying for some time because I always put myself and my family first and until I have no further use for you, you will do what’s best – for me.”

  I stare at him with so much hate flashing from my eyes, I see the spark burn brighter in his. It’s as if he feeds off hatred and it makes him stronger. He doesn’t wait for an answer because the lift stops and once again, I am running after him, struggling to keep up.

  It’s as if he has me on an invisible thread and is pulling me after him at speed. I am bouncing along behind him hitting the deck, getting bruised and battered and fearing for my life because he is relentless, cruel and a bully and yet has this ability to keep you wanting more.

  I try not to make conversation with him on the journey home and look up in surprise as he pulls to a stop outside a smart restaurant on the outskirts of London.

  A valet is waiting to take his car and park it and he says in a commanding voice, “Let’s eat.”

  Wearily, I follow him from the car, once again, opening my own door and stepping out onto the cold pavement by the side of a welcoming, warmly lit, restaurant. The place is alive and appears bursting at the seams and I feel the warmth of a place that holds so much promise. For my stomach, anyway.

  The waiter shows us to a reserved table, once again in the window and looks to be the best seat in the house and I say in surprise, “When did you book this?”

  He shrugs. “Just before we left.”

  As I look around, it strikes me that the restaurant is full and yet we have the best table. They are turning people away and yet only thirty minutes ago he called to reserve a table. Once again, I understand the power of money and I feel a bad taste in my mouth. It shouldn’t be this way. How will men like Julian ever be better people if they are allowed to get away with it?

  The waiter stands beside us politely waiting for instruction and once again, Julian rattles off our requirements with no regard for what I want. As the waiter nods, I say loudly, “Actually, can I change mine and have a gin and tonic and a
plate of your house pasta with a green salad, please, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  The waiter looks at Julian a little nervously and he barks, “Well, you heard the lady give her what she wants.”

  Backing away, the waiter heads off and I say crossly, “Did you have to be so rude?”

  “Did you?”

  “Me, are you kidding, how was it rude to ask for something I actually want?”

  “Because I know best and you were just showing off.”

  “Me - showing off – says the man who shows off for most of the day. Honestly, Julian, you are such an idiot. In fact, I can’t believe you’ve actually got this far in life not knowing it.”

  His hand moves so fast I don’t see it coming and he pulls me towards him so quickly the table decoration almost goes flying. His mouth is inches from mine as he whispers, “I love the fire in you, Emma. I want to taste it for myself. I want to take your lips in mine and devour them. I want you more than I’ve wanted anyone before and the more you resist me, the more I want you.”

  My heart is pounding so hard, I’m fearful I’m about to have a cardiac arrest as my body responds to the man I love to hate. My breath hitches as his eyes glitter dangerously before me and it takes everything in me to say in a frosty voice, “Let me go.”

  Immediately, he releases me and I sit back in my chair and take a few deep breaths, as I struggle to make sense of what just happened. I almost can’t look at him as he raises his glass to me and says in a deep, husky voice, “I always get what I want, Emma, it’s only a matter of time.”

  I’m not sure if he’s referring to what just happened, or the fact he wants to destroy his wife, but I choose to ignore him. Instead, I concentrate on my food that arrives quickly and just eat, trying to regain some sort of control over myself.

  Julian decides that conversation is no longer required and we eat our meal in peace as he taps on his phone for much of it. However, there is an undercurrent of something building that can only result in one thing, and I’m not sure I’m prepared for it.