Twenty Years a Stranger (The Stranger Series Book 1)

by Deborah Twelves

  ‘Daniel, seriously, don’t do this. I’m not Julia. I know the mind games you played with her after you split up, but there’s no going back for us. I’ve changed. I’m not the naïve girl you married anymore and I will never forgive you for what you’ve done to me.’

  ‘I know that. I don’t expect you to, at least not straight away, but please let me help you. I want to help you.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean? How can you possibly help me?’

  ‘I’ve thought of a way we can salvage at least something from all this, but we would need to work together. Just hear me out, please? Can I come round to the house now? We can’t do this on the phone.’

  ‘Do what you want,’ I said, dismissively. ‘I’m only here for another hour or so anyway. I’ve almost finished.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll be there in ten minutes.’

  I ended the call and wondered what the hell he was up to now. I didn’t trust him for a second but, at the same time, I could not deny the fact that the thought of keeping anything from the grubby paws of the Trustee and her bitch of a solicitor was immediately attractive to me.

  When Daniel arrived, I was in the kitchen, boxing up my cookery books and the coffee machine my parents had bought us one Christmas, the last remnants of my old life.

  ‘Hi,’ he paused. ‘How are you?’

  ‘How the hell do you think I am?’ I retorted angrily.

  He took a step towards me and I instinctively moved to the other side of the kitchen table. He looked hurt.

  ‘Please don’t look at me like that.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know, like you’re scared of me or something. I’d never hurt you. Surely you know that.’

  I thought of the car fire incident and wondered whether he could possibly be telling the truth. He certainly seemed different. Softer somehow.

  ‘Look, Daniel, I haven’t got long, so why don’t you just tell me what this great plan of yours is and how it benefits me. I’m warning you, it had better be good.’

  ‘Well, it’s not much, but I think we can get away with hiding the boats from them.’

  ‘Boats plural. As in the Swan you never bought?’ I demanded furiously.

  ‘Yes, well I might have told a little white lie there…,’ he smirked.

  ‘I knew it. You bastard! It really doesn’t matter anymore though, does it? They’ve got the house, they’ve got the cars, they’ve got the bloody lot. I’m left high and dry with nothing, which is exactly what you intended to happen all along.’

  ‘Oh come on, Grace. I’m not the enemy here anymore. The point is they have more than enough to be going on with for the moment with the cars you so kindly handed them, and the house. The boats are a different matter though. They are unfamiliar territory for them and far more tricky to pin down. They have no idea where they are for a start and no idea how to find any paperwork for them. They can’t prove anything about the Swan, so it’s safe in Ireland and I moved the race boat to a small marina on the Isle of Wight. When they asked me about it, I said you must have moved it. When they asked you, you said I must have moved it. And so the confusion goes on….’

  ‘So it does,’ I said sarcastically. ‘Except I was telling the truth. Whereas you, surprise surprise, were lying again.’

  ‘The thing is Hun, you have to know how to deal with these people. There is no point in being honest and telling the truth, as you’ve found out the hard way.’

  I had to admit he had a point there, but I resented the patronising tone.

  ‘I’ve told you before, don’t call me Hun. Anyway, what’s to stop me telling the Trustee about all this? How do you know I won’t just drop you in it with her?’

  ‘Because you’re not completely stupid. And because if you did, you’d be guaranteed to get absolutely nothing out of it.’

  His tone hardened as he continued.

  ‘All I’m asking you to do is help me move the boat over to Ireland, to where the Swan is on the west coast. We’ll sell them both from there and you can have half the money, I promise. That should at least pay off your mortgage. I really do want to help you. Just trust me, please.’

  Trust him. Hilarious. Did he realise how ridiculous that statement was? I almost laughed out loud as an image of Kaa singing Trust in Me from The Jungle Book came into my head. I could not help drawing a parallel with the spiralling eyes of the cartoon snake as he hypnotised his prey and brought them under his spell.

  ‘Why does it have to be me?’ I demanded. ‘Plenty of people could help you move the boat.’

  ‘Because we always were the best team. You know that.’

  Daniel was a master in the art of manipulation and he also knew that, if my first Achilles heel was children, my second was, undoubtedly, the boat.

  I was well aware of how treacherous he was. And yet, inexplicably, I was tempted by his ridiculous idea. I knew I was striking a deal with the Devil, but I simply couldn’t help myself. Or maybe I just couldn’t be bothered to fight with him anymore.

  He stepped towards me again and this time I didn’t move away. Time stood still and I stared at him, mesmerized, as he spoke again.

  ‘I’ll never forgive myself for hurting you. I would give anything to turn back time,’ he said tenderly.

  It was the old Daniel speaking. The one I fell in love with all those years ago. He was so plausible, so convincing and I wanted so much to believe him.

  A thousand memories raced through my brain and I felt the pain of the last few months disappearing as I was transported back to our first date. I let him hold me, while he stroked my hair and I rested my head on his shoulder. I let him kiss me goodbye, holding my face in his hands. I wondered fleetingly what my life would be like now if I had decided to just sweep all the horrors of my recent discoveries under the carpet, but then I reminded myself that the most dangerous liars of all are the ones who actually think they are telling the truth. The ones who believe their own lies.

  None of it was real. I knew that. I also knew that a life devoid of all traces of self-respect was totally out of the question. Every part of my being screamed that I deserved better.

  I watched Daniel go through the door and up the stone steps to the car park, and then I turned away, wiping the back of my hand roughly across my mouth to erase any trace of him from my lips.

  Moving as if in a dream, I loaded the last of my personal things into the car and stood for a moment in the kitchen. I wondered to myself why we all set such store by owning our houses? I remembered how Charles used to say we were all just custodians of the buildings, for the duration of our all too brief time on the planet.

  I was already no more than a ghost from a time gone by, rapidly fading, soon to be forgotten, as the house prepared to welcome its new custodians.

  I closed the door and locked it for the last time, knowing I was saying goodbye to my past.

  Day of reckoning

  The Devil whispered in my ear, ‘You are not strong enough to withstand the storm’ . Today I whispered in the Devil’s ear, ‘I am the storm’.

  Grace

  I stood on the pontoon, bow line in one hand, stern line in the other, ready to cast off. It was 3.30 am and it was already getting light. We would be sailing non-stop from East Cowes on the Isle of Wight round to Dingle on the southwest coast of Ireland.

  Just Daniel and me.

  The breeze was due to build later to around 18 to 20 knots and, if the forecast held, it would be behind us or on the beam most of the way. A fast passage, which suited me fine. We had opted for the small delivery main with a reef in it and the number 3 jib, given that it was just the two of us.

  I stood looking at the name Mistress on the side of the boat, with the accompanying graphics of a topless woman in suspenders and stockings, long, black, high-heeled boots and carrying a whip. It had been a bit of a laugh at the time but now made me cringe. Daniel used to warn me jokingly that his boat was his ‘first mistress’. Unfortunately, I had no idea there were so
many others.

  Daniel whistled to get my attention and held out his hand to catch the rope.

  ‘Okay, let’s go. Chuck me the stern line and jump on.’

  He began to reverse slowly out of the berth and I walked along the pontoon to make sure the bow did not touch, before catching hold of the forestay and stepping lightly aboard.

  No going back now.

  As we slipped quietly out of the harbour and into the familiar waters of the Solent I looked down at the mooring buoys we passed. There was hardly any tide at all as we set off and it would be turning in our favour soon, remaining with us for the next few hours. Once in the open water, Daniel cut the revs on the engine and headed up into the wind to allow me to hoist the mainsail and unfurl the jib, before bearing away onto our westerly course. We would start a watch system of 3 hours on, 3 hours off later in the day. I went down below to boil the kettle for a much-needed coffee, while Daniel remained on deck and began to set up the autohelm to steer the boat. I preferred to steer myself to be honest, as it gave me something to focus on and generally made the time go more quickly. I plugged a USB cable into my phone and selected a random playlist of rock ballads that I knew Daniel wouldn’t object to. A quick look out of the hatch confirmed he was oblivious to anything I was doing, then I switched on the deck speakers for the stereo and sat at the chart table, looking at the information on the plotter. Calmly I picked up the VHF and called up the Coast Guard on channel 16. When they answered, they immediately told me to switch to channel 10, standard practice in order to keep channel 16 open and free for emergencies. I wanted to make sure they knew our movements. Just in case.

  ‘Good morning. This is yacht Mistress calling to advise you of our passage from East Cowes to Dingle. Two persons on board, both wearing life jackets and lines, carrying a life raft. ETA approximately 3 days from now. Over.’

  ‘Good morning Mistress. I can see we already have your passage logged, but we were told there was only one person on board. Please confirm, over.’

  ‘I confirm there are definitely two of us, one male, one female, over.’

  ‘Roger that. Thank you. Have a safe trip. Solent Coastguard out.’

  ‘Thank you. Mistress out.’

  I replaced the receiver and sat back. Daniel had never informed the Coast Guard of anything in his life and yet, for some inexplicable reason, he had decided to do so on this occasion. And he had chosen to do it at a time when I was out of the way, probably up at the marina washrooms before we left.

  One person on board.

  There was only one possible explanation. He wanted to make sure there was no record of me being on the boat for this trip. He didn’t want anyone to know I was on board. That way it would be so much easier for me to simply disappear. My head felt as if it was being crushed in a vice and I struggled to suppress the rising panic.

  - How could I have been so stupid? Again!

  The rational part of my brain told me sharply to get a grip, but I couldn’t dispel the growing feeling of unease at my recklessness in embarking on such a crazy venture. I asked myself why I hadn’t at least told someone where I was going, but the answer to that one was easy. There was no way I could admit to any of my friends or family that I was within a hundred miles of Daniel, let alone on a boat with him, heading across the Irish Sea. It had to be our secret and besides, it suited me that way. I looked at my mobile. No signal.

  My thoughts were interrupted by Daniel, shouting to me from the deck.

  ‘Hurry up with that coffee, will you? And pass me a sandwich as well, Hun.’

  Hun. The very word set my teeth on edge and I took a deep breath before responding.

  ‘I’m just waiting for the kettle. Chicken sandwich okay?’

  ‘Anything. I’m starving.’

  I leaned out and flung the pre-packaged sandwich along the cockpit floor towards him. A few minutes later I emerged with two mugs of coffee to join him on deck, hunkering down on the floor with my back against the bulkhead to shelter from the morning wind, still chilly despite it being the height of the British summer. Daniel smiled at me happily.

  ‘Just like old times. Just you and me.’

  ‘Hmm. Except it isn’t really though, is it? There never was a ‘just you and me’.’

  ‘Come on Grace, I’m trying here. When you stand back and look at things objectively, the real cause of the problem was everybody else interfering in our business; your family, all our friends…. I still believe that, if you hadn’t gone around telling everybody, if you’d just given me a chance to explain properly, we might have been able to get through this.’

  I cut him off with a barbed laugh.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. And there was me thinking the cause of the problem was you shagging anything that had a pulse and lying to me throughout our entire marriage.’

  He must have been practising the ridiculous, hurt expression he had on his face because we both knew that he didn’t really give a shit. And we both knew that he was intent on getting his revenge on this trip.

  All part of the game.

  ‘But it’s not like you’re completely innocent though, is it?’ he continued.

  I looked at him incredulously.

  ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Jason?’

  His eyebrows were raised questioningly as he waited for me to respond.

  - Oh. Jason.

  The name hung in the air as I was transported back in time.

  Jason had been one of the crew on the boat in the early days. He was our main sheet trimmer and it was true we had always enjoyed a bit of a flirt and a laugh together, but it had never been anything more than that.

  Not really.

  ‘That was one drunken, bloody kiss,’ I said indignantly in my defence. ‘It meant nothing and you know it. It pales into insignificance compared to what you’ve done in the grand scheme of things.’

  ‘How do I know it was just one kiss?’ he taunted. ‘You could have been lying to me for years.’

  ‘Well, it was. And I wasn’t.’

  ‘I suppose I just thought that, if you were playing around, it didn’t matter if I did the same.’

  ‘Don’t you fucking dare,’ I spat at him. ‘I was not ‘playing around’ and you know it. Do not try to blame me for what you did.’

  I looked at him defiantly. How come I was suddenly the one having to defend myself and justify something and nothing from years ago? How dare he look at me with that smug, self-satisfied look on his face?

  He was referring to the barbecue at Cookie’s parents’ house one summer when we had been married for about three years. They had a fabulous place on the headland with a garden that ended in a little pathway and a set of stone steps leading right down to the beach. We had gone there in the RIB as it was quicker than driving and we would both be able to have a drink. We took the anchor ashore with us as the tide was out and set it in the sand, before walking the five minutes up to the house through the garden. Daniel and I had had a stupid row before coming out and I was furious with him for totally refusing to listen to my point of view. Because of that, I was drinking far more than was good for me, given that I did not hold my drink well and I was busy helping myself to another glass in the kitchen when Jason came over to me.

  ‘You might want to check the anchor on the RIB, as the tide is coming in quite fast. I’ll come down with you now if you want. Come on.’

  He started walking down the garden and I trotted unsteadily after him, eager to get away from the party for a bit. As soon as we were out of sight of the others he grabbed my hand and started running, pulling me along behind him and onto the little strip of beach that remained. We stopped abruptly and stared out to sea, then burst out laughing. The tide had come right in and the RIB now seemed an awfully long way out, with the anchor rope leading straight down and pulled taught.

  ‘Uh oh. I guess we’ll have to swim for it. We don’t want to get our clothes wet though….’

  I looked suggestiv
ely at Jason and began to walk slowly towards the water.

  ‘Go on then, after you,’ he said, clearly waiting for me to make the first move.

  It was a warm summer evening and I was wearing a loose strappy top and a stretch mini skirt. In a couple of quick movements, I removed all entrapments of clothing and stood for a moment, emboldened by alcohol, hoping he appreciated what he saw, before running into the sea and daring him to join me, gasping and squealing as the cold water hit me. He was quick to follow, but I was a good swimmer and reached the RIB first, diving down to retrieve the little anchor from the sea bed and holding onto the side of the boat to catch my breath. Jason had his arm around me, pulling my body into his. I could feel how much he wanted me and there was no denying it was intoxicating, but the cold water quickly killed any chance of a meaningful passionate encounter. Together we swam back to the shore, towing the RIB with us. We put the anchor at the top of the beach, just above the tide line of seaweed and hurriedly got dressed, shivering and giggling like kids. As we did the walk of shame back up to the house through the garden, both of us with dripping wet hair and damp clothes, I could not help noticing Daniel’s furious stare. I felt ridiculously pleased with myself. I had wanted to wind him up and it looked like I had managed it.

  I walked straight past him and into the house to get another drink, a provocative smirk on my face. As I emerged back into the hallway, Prosecco in hand, Jason was blocking my way. He took the glass from me and put it on the side, then in a split second move, he entwined his fingers in mine, raised my arm above my head and forced me back against the wall, pinning me there with his lithe, muscly body, which I already knew far better than I should. His mouth was all over me; my lips, my neck and down to my breasts, while he caressed my body with his free hand. The body he had already seen every inch of. I threw my head back and arched into him, forgetting where I was.

  Or maybe that was the attraction.

  His breathing came in short rasps and the raw, urgent passion I was guiltily surrendering to was something I had not experienced for a long time. He stopped for a moment and looked me straight in the eyes, his lips almost touching mine.