by Naomi Joy
*
I put one foot carefully in front of the other as I climbed the stairs to my new home, David behind me, the sights and sounds of last time I was here almost deafening in their clarity. ‘Beautiful day, isn’t it?’ David observed, small-talking to fill the gap in our conversation. He was right; the sky was a bright spring blue and, as I reached the top step, I paused to soak it in, moving aside to let him pass, more methodically than I normally would, the bruise on my knee hindering fast forward progress. I tried to keep my breathing level. He put his fingers round my waist, marionette-like, as he tucked round me to unlock the front door. He pushed it wide and I hid behind him slightly, half-expecting to see her here all over again.
‘Hi,’ a voice called from somewhere inside. I detected an eastern European accent. ‘I am Oxana. I clean for you.’ David ignored her and held my hand as he helped me navigate my way inside. Oxana ran a pair of judgmental eyes up from my feet, over my middle, then into my eyes. I could tell what she was thinking: Is David’s new hobby taking in strays? I felt her stare cast its way over the swelling on the side of my face.
I smiled a lot to persuade her that I was fine, and started jabbering about how I worked with David, that he was doing me a favour letting me crash here for a few nights. I’m not sure it was her I was trying to convince and she clearly didn’t understand, or care about, a word I’d said. She moved aside, letting David and I pass, her movement accompanied by the shuffling and swinging of her box of bleach and cloths. Then I heard the door click shut and I realised we were alone. At least, I had to keep telling myself that, because, as I stood there, I couldn’t help but feel Olivia all around me: in the walls, in the artwork that lined the hallway, in the ornate and precise gold work in the ceiling that piped and snaked its way in and out of floral patterns. I looked down at the black and white marbled floor and, even though I knew it wasn’t there, could hardly look at it without imagining Olivia’s blood stained all over the tiles. David let go of my hand and turned to me.
‘Why don’t I show you round?’
‘Sure,’ I agreed, following him into the kitchen like a puppy on a lead. ‘It’s absolutely stunning, David. Thank you again for letting me stay.’ He swivelled to face me, lifted his hand, and ran his fingers through the hair hanging loose in front of my face. He tucked it back behind my ear in a movement he’d become far too fond of. I made a mental note to start wearing it in a ponytail more often.
‘As long as you need, darling,’ he assured me as his fingers finished their loop. ‘So, what would you like me to show you first?’ We spent the next hour going through each room. There was so much to remember that I wish I’d been taking notes because I was just too tired to memorise everything, my face sore, turning from swollen to bruised as we completed the grand tour. When David noticed me stifle a yawn, he decided to finish up and, as he strode towards the front door to leave, told me I didn’t need to understand the intricacies of the security system anyway.
‘Did the police find Charlie?’ I asked, nervous about my impending loneliness.
‘Don’t worry, Ava, I’ve got people on it. We’ll deal with him.’
He said it in a way that suggested his ‘people’ were mafiosi types who’d torture him to death.
I raised my eyebrows. ‘What does that mean? What about the police?’
He raised his brows back, arched, finely sculpted, not a hair out of place. ‘He won’t be bothering you again. Let’s just leave it at that.’ My imagination went into overdrive. Would David really hurt Charlie? Why would he do that? Was he just trying to impress me? I was torn and, to be honest, the more I thought about it the more I realised I didn’t care. Whatever happened to Charlie he’d brought on himself. Reasonably confident in the fact that Charlie wasn’t going to find me here, I turned my attention back to David. I wanted him to leave now, the sky was turning dark blue, the air outside chilly. I thanked him, deliberately crossing my arms in front of my body so when he kissed me goodbye our contact wasn’t as close. ‘See you tomorrow,’ I’d said.
‘Take all the time you need.’ And, as the door clicked shut, a conflicted part of me wished I’d asked him to stay. As I stood by myself in the cavernous hallway, I thought about leaving. How could I do this? How could I stay here after what I’d done? But then I considered the alternatives now I had nowhere else to go: a hostel, a shelter, the street? Or I could give up my job and go back to Reading to be with my parents. No, I couldn’t face any of those options: I’d fought too hard to keep my job to throw it all away now. I’d be doing what Charlie had wanted all along. Now I had a beautiful house to live in, I couldn’t take the place of someone at a shelter or a hostel who needed it more than me. This was it. This was my home now. And it was good; Olivia’s gave me a chance to reset. To save up for somewhere new. To start again.
But, as I paced through the house, I was struck by its noise. It felt alive, somehow. Whips and whirs and wails called out to me from every room. I slipped off my shoes and walked barefoot towards the lounge, trying to ignore the sounds. I reflected that my old life was tormented by monsters, my present haunted by ghosts.
8
Jade
My computer whirred into action and a procession of music and lights excitedly alerted me to the eighty emails I’d received already this morning. My meeting with David had focused my mind. I could see Ava’s gameplan, it was obvious – it was too obvious – but breaking David would take Ava a long time and there was no guarantee he’d fall for it. It meant I still had a chance and that I therefore had serious, life-changing, business to attend to. My mission with Josh was now more important than ever. He’d direct-messaged me. Now I had to construct the perfect reply, preferably channelling the opposite of the technophobe lunatic he kept meeting in person.
I typed out numerous drafts in the notes section of my phone and, after endless iterations, whittled the list down to a four-strong shortlist.
Wi-Fi is dead to me.
Hey, Josh, what brings you here?
Look at you sliding into my DMs!
Hey Tricks!
The last one was an off-the-cuff throwback to our conversation yesterday. Ha, ha, ha, I called you tricks? Remember me? The idiot? But perhaps it was a bit much. Bloody hell. How could I reply to this demigod? I had to say something, though. I sucked in a deep breath and checked the clock on my computer screen. I’d been drafting and redrafting this reply for the best part of two hours. At some point Georgette must have appeared, as she was sat next to me now, clad today in a plum coloured pair of dungarees. I despaired.
I rattled off a few emails, checked my pocket mirror and laughed half-heartedly at the punchline of a story Georgette was telling to one of her minions who’d wandered over for the latest gossip.
‘Turned out, he was a porn star!’
Cue: ‘Hahahaha!’
Wait a minute, I thought, Georgette was fantastic at this sort of thing, she’d probably know exactly what to write to Josh… Plus, it couldn’t hurt to hear what people in the office were saying about Ava’s absence.
‘Excuse me?’ I stared daggers at Georgette’s minion. ‘Do you have anything work related to discuss or is this just a chit chat? Sorry to be the fun police, but we do all have things to be getting on with. Launch night really isn’t that far away now.’
The girl was wearing a push-up bra – attention-seeker – and subtly rolled her eyes at Georgette before scurrying off.
I leant in towards my desk-mate; she smelt of hairspray more than usual and a vast number of grips were putting in a serious shift to keep her sky-high ponytail in position. Her stare was currently fixed on her screen, pretending she was working. ‘George?’
She didn’t look away from her monitor as she answered. ‘Yeah?’
‘What are people saying about Ava not being in today?’
‘I thought you didn’t want to chit chat, babe.’
‘This is different.’
She pressed a button on her keyboard with the bright
pink talon on her index finger, lowered her voice and bent down slightly, hiding her face from the rest of the office behind her computer screen. I followed suit and leant in as far as my seat would allow. I knew I could always win George over with the opportunity to gossip.
‘I got this message from her this morning: Things are really bad with Charlie, I have to take a couple of days off, call me with anything urgent. Please keep an eye on Jade.’ She looked at me faux-apologetically. ‘Sorry, obviously you two aren’t the best of friends at the moment…’
‘Evidently,’ I agreed. ‘Do you believe her?’ I asked.
I considered spilling the beans about my meeting with David, about how he was the first to know, but quickly thought better of it. I couldn’t risk David’s wrath and I certainly couldn’t trust Georgette to keep anything I told her quiet.
She smiled at me wickedly. ‘Why, what do you know? You think she’s hiding something?’
‘I think she’s playing a very clever game, George, that’s all I’ll say.’
‘With who?’ George pressed, leaning in further. ‘With Charlie? You think this is all for sympathy?’ she asked, putting words in my mouth. ‘You know, apparently he proposed and that’s what set this whole thing off.’
My eyes widened at that piece of information but I stayed silent, reluctant to comment. Georgette changed the subject. ‘Talking of blossoming romances and all that, I heard you asked for Josh’s help with your Wi-Fi yesterday?’ She pointed her talon at me. ‘Listen. Don’t ever go over there to talk to him again without running the plan by me first. What you did sounded really, really cringe.’
I shuddered at the thought of my great operation doing the rounds this morning.
‘I really do have a problem with my Wi-Fi though.’
She smirked, then dismissed me, bored of our catch-up, turning all her attention to plucking the skin round a loose cuticle.
I realised then I couldn’t trust Georgette with my reply to Josh, she was far too willing to stab her sources in the back and, even if I pretended I was texting someone anonymous, that news would reach Josh in thirty seconds flat and he’d think I was being unfaithful. I was on my own with this one. I turned away from George, still fiddling with her fingernail, unlikely to attempt to talk to me while her attention was elsewhere.
I tried to conjure a cooler, calmer, prettier, better, version of myself as I turned my focus back to my reply to Josh. You’ll never be pretty, the voice in my head said.
I silenced it.
I looked through my drafts again.
Look at you sliding into my DMs!
That was the one. Casual. Smiley. Flirty. Not like me at all. It was perfect. I pressed send and breathed in deeply through my nose and out through my mouth. Just like they taught you at yoga. Let your rib cage expand… and contract.
9
Ava
I stood at the door, psyching myself up to walk into the lounge and confront my fear. I half-expected to see her there again, just like last time, and, as I talked myself into standing in that same spot, goose bumps formed and rose along my arms as though my body was trying to jump out of its skin. After too long procrastinating I decided I’d had enough and, in one quick motion, I strode into the room, blinked my eyes up and stared at Olivia’s resting place.
The sofa was new: ivory and faux-leather with navy blue scatter cushions dotted along it. It was the exact opposite of the one that had been here before and for that I should be thankful, I suppose. But it didn’t stop me from recalling a disturbing new memory about that morning, one I thought I’d forgotten; as the ambulance staff had lifted Olivia from the sofa, the black fabric of the previous settee had stuck to her legs. Even once she’d been pulled free, dark marks had persisted along the backs of her thighs, sticking to her, reluctant to let go. The smell of sickening sweetness clumped in my throat, underscoring how nauseated I felt about being back here and I stumbled out into the hallway, the black and white marble cold underfoot, my head awash with colours and sounds and smells. I willed myself to be calm. It was dark now, the moon rising through the sash windows as I stood, breathing deep, the gold-work in the ceiling sparkling as glints in the material were picked up by street lights outside. Everything would be picture-perfect – this place was incredible – if it weren’t for the toe-curling memories. I headed upstairs, trying to convince myself that I’d feel OK if I just kept going. I’d confronted the memory, survived, and now I just had to move on. But panic set in when I thought of sitting on that too-white sofa: it was too new, too perfect, and it wouldn’t be there at all if Olivia hadn’t – if I hadn’t…
Would she be happy I was here? I wasn’t as sure as David had been about that. I was sure she’d be much happier if she were still here instead.
I wondered if I should just shut the door to the living room and pretend it didn’t exist. Perhaps I would do that for a few days, then try again. I hurried back down the stairs, pulled the door to the lounge shut with a surprising slam. Silence followed and I felt the weight lift from my shoulders.
I managed a few hours of difficult sleep, expecting Olivia would turn up at any minute to throw me out. I kept shooting up in bed, spine like an arrow, my heart palpitations so off-rhythm I wondered if she’d somehow possessed my body and planned to kill me from the inside out. I dreamt I’d worn a rival brand’s clothes to the AthLuxe launch and, instead of turning up at our catwalk I’d been dropped at a different venue. I hadn’t been able to leave, bodies closing in on me, it was raining inside and I couldn’t open my eyes properly to see through the haze…I dreamt my mother had set up an arranged marriage for me but, when the guests arrived, I realised it was actually my funeral she’d been planning. She’d worn white. I’d floated overhead, observing.
*
My alarm ripped through the stillness just after six and, for a moment, I forgot entirely where I was and what had happened but, as my eyes adjusted to the room, it all came flooding back. The first waves of relief swelled through me: I didn’t have to wake up and face Charlie, I’d survived my first night in this house, I was still alive. I hit snooze and stretched out like a whippet across the ginormous memory-foam mattress, tired after a night spent wide awake.
I began daydreaming about work as I dozed – this time pondering the more realistic possibilities of facing an empty front row – when the celestial call bell sounded for the front door. My pulse raced as I rolled onto my side to see who it was, slipping my feet into the perfectly plump slippers on the floor. I pressed the answer button.
‘Yes?’ I asked tentatively, half expecting to hear Charlie’s voice. Or David’s.
But it wasn’t either.
‘Hi, chef here.’
‘Chef?’
‘Right. David Stein sent me?’
What?
I grabbed the cream satin robe that hung on the back of the bedroom door and galloped down the spiral staircase, careful not to trip on the gold rods which lined each step on the way down. I opened the door suspiciously, still not entirely trusting, surprised to be greeted by a man who more closely resembled a bodybuilder than a chef.
‘Morning, Miss,’ he grunted. He didn’t just look like a movie tough guy, he sounded like one too. ‘I’m here to cook.’
‘Right, well you’d better come in then!’
I held the door open and he walked inside carrying a brown crate of ingredients under one of his enormous arms. I was pleased to see it was full of eggs and spinach and bread – I reasoned that no axe-murderer would be prepared enough to turn up with props. I let myself relax. I directed him through to the kitchen and gestured for him to put his crate down on the marbled island in the centre.
‘David suggested Eggs Florentine. That all right for ya?’
I nodded enthusiastically and left him to his preparations but, as I took the flight of stairs back up to the bedroom, wondered for a moment if things were going too far. David was bending over backwards for me and, though I hadn’t asked for him to go so above and be
yond, my guilty conscience was banging away at me. You know what you’re doing, you know he likes you.
I slipped off the silky robe and chose an outfit for the day, gasping as I opened the wardrobe doors at the sight of an entirely full closet. I felt like Belle from a Beauty and the Beast office re-make. I settled on a two-piece tuxedo with black satin lapels, a crisp shirt, heels, and a simple gold necklace. I reasoned that David must have hired someone to do all of this and made a mental note to politely thank him later, the things he was doing to help me get back on my feet were completely overwhelming. I transferred my stuff from my scruffy handbag to the monochrome shoulder bag he’d also bought for me to use and double checked I had everything: contactless, wallet, keys, phone…
Where was my phone?
I looked towards the bedside tables, pulled the duvet cover back from the bed, checked again in my bag and rummaged through yesterday’s pockets – zilch.
Where had I left it? Back at the flat? I dreaded the thought of Charlie getting hold of it. I’ll have another look at work, I thought, then picked up my bag and jogged down the stairs to breakfast. The smell of golden muffins, eggs and fresh spinach pervaded my senses as I stepped into the kitchen.
‘Smells incredible,’ I said towards the chef with quads that would rival an Olympic cyclist. There was something of a juxtaposition about a man with such muscular strength chopping and seasoning and sautéing. I liked it, though. It made him interesting. He smiled back.
‘How long have you known David?’ I asked, busying myself filling up the kettle.