Girl A

by Dan Scottow

It was hand-addressed, his name at the top. He eyed the scrawl nervously; it was similar to the notes. How had he not noticed the writing before?

  He tore it open. Slipping his hand inside, he felt something cold and hard. He pulled it out to reveal a small glass bottle. Turning it over, he saw the label, raising both his eyebrows.

  Chanel No.5.

  People sent him corporate gifts all the time. Trying to curry his favour. But there was no note. No compliments slip. No indication who it was from. He would usually take stuff like this home for Beth, but at the moment he didn’t see the point.

  ‘Oooh, Chanel! Someone is trying to impress you,’ a high-pitched, whiney voice came from the bank of desks behind him.

  Charlie looked over his shoulder to see one of the team beside him, craning her neck to see the bottle. A tall redhead, Charlie couldn’t remember her name.

  ‘Yeah,’ Charlie replied indifferently.

  She stood up and crossed to his side.

  ‘Has your wife got a birthday coming up? She’d be dead chuffed with that.’

  Charlie placed the package down on his desk, pushing it aside.

  ‘No. She doesn’t really wear this sort of stuff anyway.’

  The girl’s expression changed. She smiled, twiddling her hair. She loitered next to Charlie’s desk, not saying anything. Smiling.

  ‘Would you like it?’ Charlie finally asked.

  ‘Me? Oh well, if it’s going begging I’ll take it off your hands, yeah,’ she said as if she wasn’t bothered. But Charlie could tell she was itching to grab the bottle and run. ‘If you’re sure you don’t want it?’

  ‘Nah, it’s yours.’ Charlie picked it up and handed it to her.

  ‘Thanks. Rob is going to be so jealous. He’ll be like, an older man giving you expensive perfume at work, hey?’ She gripped the glass as if she never intended to let it go. Her eyes wide, like an excited child.

  ‘I hope you’re not flirting with me, Charlie.’ She winked, her grin widening.

  ‘No,’ Charlie replied firmly. ‘Definitely not.’

  The smile fell from her face, and she returned to her desk. Charlie shivered at the idea.

  He heard the group behind him giggling, no doubt as the girl told them how Charlie must fancy her.

  Older man? he thought, smiling to himself. He wondered when did girls start to think of him like that. He supposed he was now. He was the wrong side of forty.

  But he still felt the same as he did at twenty. Apart from his neck clicking every time he turned his head. Or groaning whenever he stood up. At some point in the last ten years, without realising it, he had been slowly metamorphosing into his dad.

  Derek bounded down the steps from the kitchen, pulling up a chair. He punched Charlie playfully on the shoulder.

  ‘How you holding up, big guy?’ he asked nervously.

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine, mate.’

  ‘If you need a few days, you know… we can cope without you this week.’

  ‘No. I’m okay. Thanks though.’

  Derek nodded. Charlie could tell there was more coming. Derek was choosing his words.

  ‘You know, you’re welcome at the flat as long as you want it. But I really think you should sort things out with Beth and go home. Anna and I could tell things were tense the other weekend when you were round, but… Beth is a catch. Whatever has gone on between you two, I’m sure you can fix it. No point throwing it away over a silly row, is there.’

  ‘Thanks, mate. I have to get my head around things.’

  ‘I’ve never seen you like this. We can go into my office for a chat. If you want to… talk, or whatever.’

  Derek was clearly uncomfortable. He wasn’t a touchy-feely type of guy. He hated talking about emotions, or anything other than sport… maybe sex sometimes, but definitely not feelings. Anna had obviously ordered him to find out what was happening.

  ‘No thanks, Derek. Honestly, I’m fine.’

  Derek looked relieved.

  ‘Look, mate, whatever it is you’ve done, just say you’re sorry and send her a big bunch of flowers. Usually works for me.’ Derek winked.

  ‘Why do you automatically assume it’s me who’s guilty of something?’ Charlie’s voice was flat.

  Derek picked up a pen lying on Charlie’s desk, twirling it in the fingers of his right hand.

  ‘Come on. She’s perfect. What’s she gonna have done?’

  ‘You’d be surprised. Are we finished here?’ Charlie turned to face the computer screen and began typing on his keyboard.

  Derek frowned, dropping the pen.

  ‘Yep. Yes we are.’

  He stood, rolling the chair back under the neighbouring desk and skulked away like a sad schoolboy.

  Charlie sighed. He’d never argued with Derek. And although what had just occurred couldn’t really be described as an argument, their relationship was usually one of light-hearted banter.

  Charlie was sure Derek would get over it though.

  Until recently he would have agreed with his friend. He had always thought of Beth as perfect. But he was no longer so sure. The woman he had devoted his entire adult life to, seemed like a complete stranger to him.

  If she could lie so easily, so convincingly… what else had she been lying about?

  38

  It was the first Monday Beth could remember in a long time when she had not wanted to go to work. Sunday had dragged. She hadn’t left the house; had no desire to. She could have easily stayed in bed today too.

  But she couldn’t afford to lose her job, as well as everything else in her life.

  As she stepped out of the lift, she scanned the office. It was early and most people hadn’t arrived yet. But Vicky was at her desk, talking to someone from IT. She glanced up. When she saw Beth, she held her gaze. Didn’t look away, didn’t smile, didn’t wave.

  Just stared at her, sizing her up.

  Beth looked straight back as she crossed the room to her office. Feeling uncomfortable, she eventually looked away. But as she closed her door behind her, she looked through the window.

  Vicky was still staring.

  Beth powered on her computer, taking off her jacket and hanging it on her coat stand. There was a knock at the door. She craned her neck but couldn’t see who it was.

  ‘Come in!’ she shouted as she got herself ready to start work.

  Margot breezed in, all teeth and perfume. A vision in a cerulean playsuit and a pair of bright orange stilettos. She had a knack of looking fabulous in outfits that would make anybody else look ridiculous. Beth often envied her clothes, generally purchasing most of hers from the bargain section of the supermarkets these days.

  ‘Darling, how are you? Good weekend? Mine was dire. We’ve got a lot going on today. Have you started yet?’

  Beth sat down behind her desk, nodding.

  Margot frowned.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine. What’s up?’

  Margot paused for a moment, cocking her head to one side, but carried on regardless.

  ‘There’s a problem with a new title. We released it yesterday, and we’ve had an email this morning from an author in New Zealand claiming we’ve plagiarised her work.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Margot held up the paperback in her hand.

  ‘I’m looking into the claims. In my professional opinion she hasn’t got a leg to stand on, but would you mind contacting the writer and giving him a heads-up? Warn him not to discuss the matter if he’s contacted about it.’

  Beth sighed.

  ‘Fine.’

  Margot closed the door, crossing the room to Beth’s desk, perching her bottom on the corner. She crossed one of her Amazonian legs over the other.

  ‘Right. What’s going on with you?’

  ‘It’s nothing. I’m tired.’ Beth couldn’t tell Margot about Charlie and the kids, because she’d want to know why. And Beth had no intention of telling her the truth about who she was.

  She didn’t want to lo
se another person from her life over this. Given Margot’s feelings about children, she couldn’t be sure how she would react to Beth’s past.

  ‘Honey, I’m not an idiot. I’ll ask one more time, and if you choose not to tell me, on your head be it. I will not be responsible for my actions.’

  Beth smiled. Margot always had an ability to cheer her up. Everything was high drama with her.

  ‘Honestly, I’m okay. I promise. Now get out of here so I can do some bloody work!’

  Beth made a shooing motion with her hand, and Margot hopped up from the desk, scurrying out of the room, perfectly balanced on her impossibly high heels.

  Beth glanced at her monitor. There was another knock, Beth didn’t look up.

  ‘What did you forget?’ she said through a laugh.

  The door clicked shut, and Beth’s eyes shot up.

  Vicky was standing in Beth’s office, her arms folded in front of her chest.

  ‘What do you want?’ Beth didn’t afford her any pleasantries.

  ‘Did you have a pleasant Saturday, Beth?’ Vicky asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘Was it… eventful?’ She winked.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I wondered if you had an… exciting weekend. You know? Did anything interesting happen?’

  Vicky wasn’t smiling. She was deadly serious. Her eyes fixed on Beth’s.

  ‘Get out of my office.’

  Instead, Vicky took a few steps towards Beth’s desk, and sat on the edge, in the exact spot where Margot had perched only moments earlier.

  She glanced around conspiratorially.

  ‘I know who you are,’ she whispered.

  ‘You don’t know anything.’

  ‘Oh I do. A lot more than you realise. And let me tell you, I was a little drunk the other night at Chloe’s birthday drinks, and I wasn’t thinking straight. But if you ever threaten me again, I’ll make sure you regret it.’

  Beth swallowed hard but didn’t look away from Vicky’s face.

  ‘Vicky, I really don’t think you want to be threatening a senior member of staff. Not when you’re still on probation.’

  ‘I’m not scared of you.’

  ‘You should be.’

  ‘Why? What exactly are you going to do?’

  Beth said nothing. Vicky waited, pursing her lips.

  ‘No, didn’t think so.’ She stood up, pushing Beth’s stationery caddy off the edge of the desk. It clattered to the floor, and an array of paper clips and pens spilled across the carpet.

  ‘Oops,’ Vicky breathed, as she casually strolled out, leaving the door open.

  Beth’s heart pounded. She crouched and began clearing up the mess. She glanced up to find Vicky watching her, smiling.

  Beth wondered what Vicky had meant when she said she knew more than Beth realised.

  She was now convinced that Vicky was involved. Had she been watching her on Saturday night with Mikey? Whatever her part, it was clear Beth’s warning hadn’t worked.

  It seemed to have made things worse.

  39

  1997, Sandbach, Cheshire, England.

  Kitty heard the front door slam, indicating that her father was home from the pub. The TV clicked on and the sound of muffled laughter came through the ceiling into her room. She knew it was only a matter of time until he would start on her. He always did when he’d been drinking.

  She decided to get out.

  She quietly opened her bedroom door and stood listening, holding her breath. She heard no movement from downstairs. Her mother was out gallivanting. Probably with some new man. Things were worse when her mother wasn’t around to stick up for her.

  Kitty stepped cautiously out to the landing, faded denim jacket under one arm. Still afraid to breathe, she placed a foot onto the stairs.

  As she descended, the neon-blue glow from the telly hit the wall in the hallway below. Through the living room doorway, she saw the back of her father’s head poking over the top of his chair, facing the television in front of him.

  Now and then he would cough or belch. A smouldering cigarette lay in a glass ashtray on a small table beside him.

  She tiptoed down the stairs, but as she reached the bottom, a loud creak escaped from beneath her.

  She froze. Too late.

  Her father spun around in his chair; his face contorted into a sneer.

  ‘Where the hell do you think you’re going?’ he slurred.

  Kitty ignored him, faster now down the hallway towards the front door.

  ‘Oi! Don’t you dare walk away from me when I’m talking to you, you little whore!’

  Kitty stopped, closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

  You need to calm down, she told herself. Don’t rise to it. She began to count slowly in her head.

  She heard the springs squeak as her father heaved his gargantuan mass up from his chair. She turned around, afraid to have her back to him. He lumbered towards her unsteadily.

  ‘Just like your mother… drop your knickers for anyone!’

  He lurched forwards, grabbing at her denim jacket. She held on tightly as he tried to wrestle it from her hands. Her father pulled harder, tearing a lapel from the collar.

  He laughed, tossing it down onto the floor.

  The familiar anger that Kitty had felt towards him for many years welled up inside her like a monsoon.

  ‘I hate you,’ she said through gritted teeth.

  ‘The feeling is mutual, Kitty.’ He always had an edge to his voice when he used her real name. Like he was enjoying it.

  ‘Don’t call me that,’ she hissed back.

  ‘Oh yeah, who are you this week?’ He sniggered.

  She ignored him.

  ‘You can pretend all you want, but you will always be Kitty Briscoe. That’s never going away. What you did. You nasty little cow.’

  ‘I didn’t do anything!’ she shouted.

  ‘Bullshit.’ The smell of alcohol, cigarettes and sweat hit Kitty’s nostrils all at once. She detested him with all her being.

  ‘Why have you always hated me?’ Kitty asked.

  ‘Do you really need to ask that? You ruined our lives. You and your little queer friend Kieran Taylor.’

  ‘You’re a liar. It was before that. You never loved me!’

  ‘No, you’re spot on.’

  ‘Why?’

  He laughed again.

  ‘Because I never wanted you,’ he spat.

  She supposed she had always known, but to have it confirmed was still a blow.

  ‘Get me a beer!’ her father shouted as he returned to his chair.

  ‘No,’ Kitty said defiantly.

  Her father turned slowly to face her.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said no. Get your own fucking beer.’

  Kitty’s father took a step towards her.

  ‘Now you listen to me, you little bitch, while you’re in my house–’

  ‘I’m eighteen. I’m leaving for uni soon, so I won’t be in your house anymore. And I’m never coming back. You’re a pig. You disgust me. I pity you. But I pity Mum more.’

  Her father’s face reddened. He reached forwards, grabbing a handful of Kitty’s short black hair, screwing it up in his clenched fist, he pulled her head towards him. She could smell his rancid breath.

  ‘I disgust you?’ His fat cheeks wobbled. ‘Let me tell you–’ But her father didn’t finish his sentence.

  Kitty had stretched out her flailing arm, grappling for something, anything she could grasp. Her hand came to rest on a bronze bust of a horse that her mother kept on the hall console table. In that split second, Kitty’s hand, complete with horse, connected with her father’s temple. He stood, mouth wide open like a fish, staring at Kitty as blood trickled down his face.

  She didn’t give him a chance to react. She turned and lurched towards the front door. Yanking it open, she fell out into the street. She turned briefly, looking back at her father from the floor, but he wasn’t following her. He reach
ed his hand up to the side of his head, dabbing at the blood. He looked at his wet fingers, confusion, then anger on his face. As he bellowed, Kitty sprang to her feet and ran. She ran as fast as she could and didn’t stop until she was sure her father wasn’t behind her.

  That was the first and last time she stood up to him.

  40

  Heavy drops of rain bounced off the ground. Charlie inhaled the smell of wet concrete as he soldiered through the car park, holding his rucksack above him. He might not have a full head of hair, but he didn’t like looking a state. A leggy blonde in front of him held the door open, and he ran the last few steps into the building. She smiled at him, her eyes lingering a second too long. His cheeks felt hot, and he looked away. Rick, the security guard, winked, raising his newspaper to Charlie as he walked through the lobby. Charlie nodded back, swiping his pass to get into the lift.

  He usually took the stairs, but this morning he couldn’t face them. He’d had a rough time with Daisy when he dropped her off. She’d been asking all sorts of questions about Beth. Where was she? When would she see her? Why were they not at home? Charlie didn’t know what to tell her. The truth wasn’t an option, that was for sure.

  She’d ended up in tears, and he had to carry her into school kicking and screaming. Her teacher had looked perplexed. And so early into the new term as well. Mind you, at least she was talking to him. Which was more than could be said for Peter.

  Peter was ignoring Charlie entirely. He’d decided whatever was going on must all be Charlie’s fault. Because it was always the man. Everybody thought Beth was so perfect. He couldn’t blame them, he had always felt the same. He smirked grimly as he imagined what they would say if they knew the truth.

  As he stepped out of the lift, there was a strange atmosphere in the office. Something felt off. People stood in small groups, chatting. Worried expressions on their faces. What’s more, they were staring.

  At Charlie.

  He walked past the annoying twenty-somethings at the desks behind his. They stopped gossiping as he approached.

  ‘Morning,’ he said, trying to sound cheerful.

  A chubby girl with black hair shot daggers at him. Charlie frowned, placing his rucksack on the floor beside his desk. He switched on his computer, turning briefly as he heard Derek’s door open.