‘Really?’
He’d struck her more as the love ’em and leave ’em type. The girl he’d brought home the other night, for instance, had never been mentioned, let alone seen again.
‘I did the same as you – ran away. Only I came to the other side of the world, not just down a motorway.’
‘That’s what I should have done,’ Julia said. ‘Who was she, the girl in New Zealand?’
‘Cara. Met her when I was sixteen. Thought we’d grow old together.’
‘I didn’t know,’ Julia said.
‘It’s not something I go around advertising.’
‘Did she find someone else?’
‘It wasn’t that. Her family didn’t approve of me. They didn’t think I was good enough. In the end, she listened to them.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘It gets better, you know.’
‘When?’
‘When you least expect it.’
‘That should be about now,’ Julia said. She laughed into her wine, injecting it with bubbles, which made her laugh some more.
‘Being here, in a new place, meeting new people helps,’ Brandon said. ‘If I think about it, it still hurts. It’s just I don’t think about it as much as I used to. Not more than, say, fifty times a day.’
‘Fifty would be an improvement,’ Julia said.
‘Hanging out with Alan helps, you too – having mates to talk to.’
Brandon must be unaware that neither she nor Alan liked him. Though that was changing on her part. Genevieve’s constant eulogising had set her against him, that and his laddish attitude, which now seemed more of a front. Brandon was like her, alone and heartbroken in a new town.
‘And what about the girl, from the other night?’ Julia asked.
‘What girl?’ he said.
‘I heard her come back to the house, that night you went out with Alan. Aren’t you seeing her again?’
Brandon looked embarrassed. ‘She just needed somewhere to crash,’ he said. ‘Nothing happened.’
Julia wasn’t sure if she believed him. His gruff demeanour didn’t sit well with this sudden coyness.
‘I don’t want to get tangled up with any romantic stuff at the moment,’ he said. ‘I just need to sort myself out, get my head straight and find a job. Genevieve’s been a sweetheart about the rent—’
‘You don’t pay rent?’ Julia said.
‘It’s just until I find work.’
Genevieve had been adamant on the subject of rent, two months down in advance and the rest paid on the first of the month, no ifs, no buts. Her hippy tendencies didn’t extend to money. Only with Brandon it appeared they did. Something swirled to the surface of Julia’s alcohol-befuddled consciousness.
He’s like Dominic, it’s like he’s come back.
‘You know about her son, don’t you?’ Julia said.
‘She’s got kids?’
The room started a slow spin around her, the lights streaking, the voices blurring into one. Julia tried to arrange her thoughts, but they refused to form an orderly queue.
‘It’s nothing,’ she said.
Somehow her glass was full again. She didn’t need more but drank anyway, a deliberate recklessness to obliterate the images of Christian and Ellie.
One of the rosé girls came over and started chatting to Brandon. She placed her hand on the back of his chair and leant over, her mouth so close to his ear it brushed his overgrown mop of hair. Julia wondered if she was the girl from the other week, the one Brandon had brought home, or if she’d simply wandered over on the off-chance. Their conversation was too low to hear above the music. Julia blinked to try to bring the bar back into focus. It only lasted a split second before her eyes drooped and suddenly Brandon was shaking her.
‘Come on, let’s get you home.’
He took her arm. Julia scraped her chair as she tried to get to her feet. Brandon hauled her up and she managed to stand and force herself bolt upright to stop the swaying.
‘You look like a soldier, standing to attention,’ Brandon said.
Julia started to giggle. Brandon laughed.
‘Come on, Private Benjamin, home time.’
‘I’m all right,’ she said. ‘I’ll get a cab. You can go with thingy.’
She swirled her finger in the direction of the rosé drinkers. The girl who had been talking to Brandon saw her and scowled.
‘Oops,’ Julia said and lost her balance.
Brandon pushed her upright again.
‘You’d better go and talk to her,’ Julia said. ‘Let her know we’re not, y’know, whatever.’
‘She’ll keep,’ Brandon said. ‘Let’s get you home.’
There were no cabs and they walked up the steep hill to Downsview Villa, Julia leaning on Brandon as he entertained her with tales of his travels across Europe, before arriving in Guildford.
‘Florence is all right,’ he said. ‘But it lacks a Slug and Lettuce.’
‘You’re making fun of me cos I’m drunk,’ she said.
‘What makes you think that?’
‘Let’s be daring and go in the front door,’ Julia said when they reached the house.
‘Why is that daring?’ Brandon asked.
‘We’re supposed to go round the side.’
‘Since when?’
Julia tripped up the front doorstep and Brandon had to catch her.
‘Shhhhh,’ she said in an exaggerated manner.
‘Come on.’
They went upstairs. Julia thought of her head on a cool pillow and a glass of cold water, but without knowing how, she ended up in Brandon’s room.
‘I reckon that Christian’s insane to let you go,’ Brandon said.
He kissed her and she kissed him back. And through all the drunkenness she felt a triumph. She wasn’t going to be Miss Havisham, waiting around heartbroken for Christian or any man. She would make up for all the lost years of monogamy to a faithless coward. Brandon was funny, he’d travelled, he had ambition. Why had she ever thought Christian was the one?
Chapter 21
2017 – Central London
Coming into work from Maida Vale, I look far chicer and less formal than usual. The voluminous black shift dress and enormous shaggy cardigan cum coat that Pearl left out for me to wear would be large enough for both of us to fit into. I would have thought only someone as tall and thin as Pearl could dress in it without looking like a yeti, but it suits me.
Anya – our receptionist – even asks where I got the cardigan.
‘Dover Street Market,’ I say.
Pearl probably did get it there. I’ve never been in my life.
I ring my mobile company, claiming the phone’s been lost and I need a new one. I’m still in contract and it’s going to cost me three hundred and eighty pounds. Thank God for Pearl. I’m not sure what was more idiotic, thinking Sam would speak to me or using Garrick’s phone to call him and creating a link between me and it – if Sam chooses to tell anyone. I removed and crushed both SIM cards beneath my heel on the way to the Tube. The handsets I threw over a metal barrier and onto a building site, in the hope they’d be smashed to pieces by a digger.
By the time I’ve finished ordering a new one, the cumulative sleep deprivation is taking its toll, making me light-headed. I start to giggle when Miranda talks about test scripts with her slight lisp – tetht thwipts.
‘Are you OK?’ She looks genuinely concerned.
‘Yessh, thank you,’ I say.
Jonathan breaks off from his call and comes over. ‘Are the Russell figures all OK?’
He leans in close and sniffs, attributing my strange behaviour to alcohol. If only.
‘I’ve saved them to the shared drive,’ I say.
‘Listen, Julia, if you’re not feeling well perhaps you should have a rest, take it easy. Do you want to go home early?’
Miranda looks amazed and even Paulo’s face states that this is a precaution too far. Jonathan has never before uttered these words
, or any approximation of them.
‘I’ll be fine, Jonathan.’
Miranda and Paulo drift away and leave me to sift through my e-mails.
There’s a conference call at ten-thirty. My only contribution is confirming my name at the start. Jonathan does all the talking.
I return to my desk and go back to planning the project’s timelines. The coding will have to slip as the functional specs aren’t complete.
A draught of air chills the office. I look up. A man in leathers has just come in, bringing the cold with him. He places a box on the front desk. Anya talks to him for a moment. My name is mentioned before he carries the package towards me.
‘Julia Winter – could you sign for your phone please?’
I do so and watch him leave. Immediately, I want to search for Brandon’s name. The urge is so strong, I have to put the phone in the drawer, out of sight. I’ll set it up and wipe the backup from my old one once Jonathan leaves his desk.
I get back to my work. But I feel the phone calling to me. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to resist searching for more information. I shouldn’t have thrown the second phone away. I could have hidden it somewhere, behind a loose brick in a wall or in a tree trunk.
Someone, even more inconsiderate than the motorcycle courier, comes in. They don’t close the door behind them and the wind blows papers across the floor. Two police officers are talking to Anya. The man leans on the desk, in the casual manner of someone ordering a pint in their local. The woman stands back and scans the office. I look down before she catches my eye.
‘Can I help you?’ I hear Anya ask.
I look up again. Anya flicks her fringe from her face.
‘There’s no Risborough.’
My hands freeze on the keyboard.
The man says something I can’t hear.
‘You mean Winter.’
He nods. Anya points in my direction. They walk towards me. My hands still hover above the keys.
‘Julia Winter?’ the woman says.
I stand up.
The whole office stops and looks at me.
‘You are Julia Winter?’
‘Yes,’ I say.
The female officer steps forward.
‘I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Brandon Wells. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?’
No one moves. The office stands silent. Unaccountably, Miranda starts to cry.
Chapter 22
2001 – Kingston upon Thames
A warm glow ran through Julia as she crossed the perfume section of Bentalls department store in Kingston upon Thames, inhaling the sweet and spice of Chanel No 5, Opium, Rive Gauche and Anais Anais. To Julia such places were impossibly glamorous. Growing up, Julia’s nearest town had a concrete shopping parade, with only graffiti to break up the grey. The lifts stank of urine and the phone boxes were permanently vandalised. As a treat, Audrey would take her to Rackhams in Birmingham, now a House of Fraser, where she would spend hours in the beauty department. Audrey was old-fashioned – you’d not find her without a dab of perfume, lipstick and some blusher, which she insisted on calling rouge.
To step into Rackhams, with its light and space, perfumes from France and handbags from Italy, to press a silk scarf to her cheek, was to step into another universe. After the shopping, Audrey would take Julia to the café, where she’d have rich chocolate cake submerged under a mountain of whipped cream.
Bentalls reminded Julia of her childhood, and that glamour existed outside of her life as a corporate ant and unsatisfactory wife. Her salary went into a joint account. But twice a year she was paid a bonus. The wage clerk was a woman a little older than Julia, called Amanda. She said it wasn’t a problem if Julia wanted her bonus paid into a separate, single-name account and halted Julia’s convoluted explanation by raising a finger to her lips. Their eyes met in a moment of silent solidarity – she understood.
The bonus had gone into the account on Friday. Today was Saturday. She wasn’t going to buy much, just a deep red lipstick with a soft sheen, a new bottle of Oscar by Oscar de la Renta and a scarf. Really, she needed some new boots. Hers were twice repaired and no amount of polish could hide their shabby state. She hovered over a black patent leather pair, covetous of their sheen and Louis heel. But such boots drew too much attention.
Instead, she picked up a green cashmere scarf. Since her pregnancy, Julia’s skin had become hypersensitive and the scarf’s softness was exquisite. She held it to her face and shut her eyes.
‘It’s Julia, isn’t it?’ The woman standing before her was in her mid-twenties, wearing jeans and a grey T-shirt. Her oval face and almond-shaped eyes were familiar, though Julia couldn’t place them.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘You don’t remember me,’ the woman said. ‘But you were very kind to me once, when I was in a bad place in my life.’
‘I’m sorry, when was this?’
‘Years ago, in Guildford.’
Julia took the scarf from her face. ‘I don’t remember,’ she said and started to move away.
The woman was undeterred. ‘I was stranded in the rain. You gave me twenty pounds. I had nowhere to go. I was only a teenager.’
‘I don’t recall,’ Julia said.
‘I was pregnant.’ She glanced at Julia’s bump. ‘It seemed like the end of the world.’
‘You were pregnant?’
Julia’s hand moved instinctively to protect her unborn child.
‘So, you do remember me?’
She couldn’t deny it now. ‘Yes, you came to the house,’ Julia said.
‘That bastard. I was only seventeen when I met him and of course he said he was in love with me, until I got pregnant. He claimed it wasn’t his – threw me out of the house, physically threw me. I didn’t know where to turn. My mum didn’t want to know. If it wasn’t for you, I don’t know what I’d have done.’
‘It was only twenty pounds,’ Julia said.
‘It was the gesture. Someone actually cared. Though I did feel bad about leaving you there with him, knowing what he was like. He said you weren’t his girlfriend. Was that true?’
‘Yes.’
‘Of course, you’re far too smart to get involved with a shit like that. I was seventeen – that’s my excuse. I know better now.’
‘Did you have the baby?’
‘No. It would have been stupid – no money, no partner. Got two now, though, and a nice bloke. What about you?’
‘The same, I’m really lucky,’ Julia said.
‘Here, do you fancy a drink? A soft one obviously,’ she said, looking at Julia’s bump.
‘I’d love to, but I have to get back.’
‘Shame. I’ll give you my number. It’s Leanne, in case you’ve forgotten.’
Julia let her tap the number into her phone.
‘Call me and we’ll meet for coffee or something,’ Leanne said.
‘That would be great. Lovely to run into you. I’m glad everything turned out all right in the end.’
Julia dumped the scarf on the nearest display and hurried back to the car. She sat for a few moments without turning on the ignition. That girl, she’d been so young, only seventeen. If Julia found out more, would she regret it? Her finger hovered over the phone.
The baby kicked inside her. She took a deep breath and deleted Leanne from the contacts. She wouldn’t come to Bentalls again.
Chapter 23
1994 – Guildford
Fingers of light spread from under the curtains and hot beer breath blew in snores across her cheeks. A hairy leg flopped across her body, pinning her to the bed. Julia noticed a dolphin tattoo on Brandon’s buttock and grimaced. She pushed him off. He rolled onto his other side with no disruption to his snoring. Julia winced, a jagged pain shot from her eye to her temple. Surely a shard of glass must hav
e lodged behind her eye and was burrowing into her brain for her to be in this much agony.
Swinging her feet to the floor jolted her stomach. She had to clamp her mouth shut to stop herself throwing up on the orange-brown carpet. She checked that Brandon hadn’t moved before gathering her clothes and poking her head out of the room. It was too early for anyone else to be about. She crept to the bathroom, where she knelt next to the toilet and allowed herself to retch. She longed to lie down on her own bed and get some more sleep. But she was sticky, stank of stale booze and, now, vomit. Crawling into the shower, she let the hot water run across her skin, hoping the memories would be carried down the drain with the stench.
She and Christian had waited two and a half years before sleeping together. They’d discussed it, prepared for it, felt shy and nervous. Now she’d leapt into bed with Brandon, a man she barely knew and didn’t really like, or even fancy. Last night, she’d thought of it as getting some sort of revenge on Christian. This morning, under the steam of the shower and apple-scented body wash, she realised he would never know, and if he did, he would despise her – You won’t believe how desperate Julia’s become.
The water couldn’t wash away her shame, the squirming disgust she felt for herself. A result of Audrey’s Fifties’ morality trickling down a generation. Pearl would have laughed about it in the pub and moved on to the next man.
Stepping out of the shower, Julia pulled a towel around her, but let her hair fall loose and drip across her shoulders and down her back. She shouldn’t get so stressed. Her anxiety was a result of the hangover, a long week and the shock of hearing about Christian and Ellie. After she’d slept and met up with Pearl and Andre, things would seem different.
She opened the bathroom door and jumped. Alan stood outside. He looked her up and down, amusement flickering around his mouth.
‘Up early,’ he said.
‘I thought you were away for the weekend,’ she said.
‘Obviously not,’ he said.
Julia stepped past him to go to her room. She could feel his eyes boring into her back.
Most of North London seemed to have chosen the Oxford Arms for their pre-clubbing drinks and Pearl and Andre were barely visible through the fug of cigarette smoke. They sat and listened patiently, downing pints and munching on peanuts, as Julia told them about her conversation with Audrey, and made sly allusions to getting drunk with Brandon.
The Verdict Page 10