Discarded

by Shae Banks

  When there was no answer, I moved through the dining room to the hall and caught a glimpse of him in the office. He hadn’t noticed me, so I knocked on the office door.

  “Fuck me, Bekah, you gave me a heart attack,” he almost yelled as he jumped in fright.

  “Sorry. You should lock the back door…” I said, trailing off as I realised I was about to lecture him on security.

  He sat back in the chair and surveyed me. “Is everything all right? You said you were working until four?”

  I shrugged and shifted awkwardly.

  “Still no coat,” he said, looking me over a second time. “You haven’t been home.”

  I shook my head and said, “I… I felt a bit off so… You were right. I shouldn’t have gone in.”

  He sighed and put down his pen.

  “Go upstairs. Top floor,” he said, standing abruptly. “Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll be up in ten.”

  “I don’t want to… I’m not here to…” I didn’t know what I was trying to say, or why I was here. I just knew I didn’t want to be at my place, and he was the only person I could turn to. I stopped spluttering half explanations when my stomach growled.

  He held up a hand. “Bekah, please. I told you to come here if you needed to and you came. Go upstairs, my flat is open. Let me make you something to eat, and we’ll go from there.”

  I turned and left the room. He followed, watching me ascend the staircase to the first floor.

  I’d only been upstairs a few times in the years I’d worked at the Georgian, and here I was for the second time in as many weeks. I made my way down the corridor, ticking off the rooms as I passed them. I reached room six where I’d slept after the Christmas Day shift and looked at the only remaining door. The one that led to Callum’s flat.

  It had been the servants’ quarters back in the day, but I had no idea what he’d done with it when renovating the place. I had to admit I was mildly curious.

  As he’d said, the door was unlocked and opened silently. The staircase ran left, following the corridor I’d just walked down, and was so steep I had to use the handrail. When I reached the top, I was pleasantly surprised.

  The staircase opened up into a large living area. It was simply furnished with two burgundy leather sofas, a coffee table, a TV, a stereo, and a walnut bookcase. The rear wall was wallpapered in a mural of a forest. It was the only picture on any of the walls. To the right, beside the bookcase, was a door. I assumed it led to a bedroom and bathroom.

  What I did notice was that it smelled the same as his other place. I hadn’t really taken much notice earlier, but there was a distinctive scent in the air. Looking around again, I found the source of the smell, a reed diffuser on the bookcase. I moved toward it and scanned the spines of the books displayed. Most were as old as the items of furniture, and it wouldn’t have surprised me to learn some were first editions. He did seem to like his antiques. Then I picked up the diffuser and took a good sniff. I couldn’t pick out much but jasmine along with a hint of lavender.

  Putting it back down, I turned and looked at the mural. Those trees could be located anywhere, but after seeing the photographs of places around the county in his other place, I suspected they were local. It wasn’t as though he couldn’t afford custom wallpaper.

  I was standing there, lost in that image, when he opened the door to my left.

  He was carrying a plate and a mug. “Lunch,” he announced, kicking the door closed behind him. “Have a seat.”

  I moved to the larger of the sofas and sat down. It was old, the leather well-worn, but as a result it was incredibly comfortable. He handed me the plate.

  “Bacon and Brie,” he said as I looked down at the panini. “I had one for my lunch earlier and made this up to have tomorrow.”

  “Thanks,” I said, putting the plate on my knee. “Sorry I interrupted your work.”

  He smiled and sat on the sofa opposite with a foot hooked over his knee. “I’m glad you did. I hate bookkeeping and the accountant wants everything by the end of next week. It’ll take me until then to get it right at this rate.”

  I took a bite of my lunch and nodded. “Yeah, took me a while to get my head around it.”

  “You have bookkeeping qualifications?” He asked, surprised.

  I nodded. “Hospitality management, actually.”

  “Why don’t I know this?”

  I shrugged and took another bite.

  “Why are you a waitress when you could be managing somewhere?”

  I swallowed and reached for the mug he’d put on the coffee table. “I was in college when I started here. When I graduated, I looked for jobs, but I didn’t have the experience for anyone to want to take me on, so I stayed here. I took the job at the gas station because I needed the money.”

  He sat quietly while I ate. After a couple of minutes, he asked, “What happened?”

  I knew what he meant. I didn’t know how to answer so I carried on eating.

  “Why was Johnathan Pierce behaving that way?”

  “What way?” I asked all too quickly.

  He half-smiled. “He looked as though he were ready to start an argument. Now, either your colleague irked him, which I don’t think likely since he was handing her something, or he was annoyed at you. The way you were standing near the staff exit looking as though you were ready to bolt suggests he’d had something to say, and I doubt it concerned his wife’s soup stained dress.”

  I looked away. I’d never had to explain it to anyone. I’d never told anyone. The whole affair had been secretive for obvious reasons I’d never even told anyone I had a boyfriend until Christmas eve.

  “How long?” he asked softly.

  There was no judgment or accusation in his tone, just warmth and understanding.

  “Thirteen months. I’ve tried to end it. I want to end it,” I said, holding back the emotion that threatened to make my voice shake. “I’ve done everything…”

  “You don’t have to let him in, Bekah.”

  I closed my eyes and lowered my head. “He has a key. He lets himself in.”

  “Change the locks.”

  I shook my head. “He’s—he’s my landlord.”

  “Fucking hell.” He breathed it, lowering his foot and leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

  The tears started to fall, and I put the half-eaten sandwich on the coffee table. “It got out of hand. It wasn’t meant to… I wasn’t supposed to…”

  He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. Most importantly, when I looked up I could see in his eyes he wasn’t judging me.

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Has he hurt you?” he asked quietly.

  I shrugged. He’d scared me, but I wasn’t sure what constituted as hurt. The bruises on my wrists were just him not being too gentle when fucking me. Did that count? He hadn’t left marks on my throat when he’d grabbed me on a Christmas Eve, but it had hurt when he pulled me by the hair the previous night. But he’d never actually hit me. “I… I’m…”

  “Has he touched you without your consent?” he pressed.

  That was clear enough. I looked down at my hands. “Yeah. Yeah he has.”

  My throat felt tighter. My stomach churned, and I looked up at him again. He hadn’t moved. His expression remained passive, but there was something in his eyes that set me on edge.

  I swallowed and looked away. “It doesn’t matter, it’s not—”

  “Last night. What did he do?”

  “Nothing much. He came over and told me I either paid higher rent or kept… I chose the rent. He wasn’t pleased, roughed me up a bit, and I ran. I knew he wouldn’t chase me all the way down to the pier, so that’s where I went.”

  “And if I hadn’t found you, where would you have gone?”

  I shook my head, and he got up from the sofa. I glanced up to see he was taking a mobile from his pocket.

  “You should phone the police.”

  I shook my head. The last time I did that it cost me
my family. Yeah, I had mum and dad, but family gatherings weren’t much fun now. I didn’t come on to my older sister’s husband, he forced himself on me, but that wasn’t how they saw it. Everyone rallied around Ruthie. They didn’t believe me. Trudy was on the fence, but she was considered too young at sixteen to understand. She understood all right. It was for her I kicked up a fuss. I could leave, but she had to stay, and if he did that to her… it didn’t bear thinking about. “The last time I did that he got off. There wasn’t enough evidence and my word against his—” my voice cracked, and I stopped talking.

  He knew my point was valid and dropped it. After a few seconds he said, “Okay, I need you to give me a couple of hours, and I’m going to need you to trust me.”

  I shook my head. “No. Thank you, but I can’t. I’ll handle it. I’m okay.”

  “He can’t treat you like this. You have family in the area, surely you—”

  I panicked. I couldn’t go back to my parents. Nothing could be worse than going back there. I left the sofa and rushed to him, putting my hand on the arm that held the phone. “No. If I lose the flat that’s it. I’m fucked. Thank you, Callum, but I need to handle this my way.”

  “And what way is that?” he asked, looking down at me.

  I didn’t feel threatened standing so close. The opposite, in fact. All he’d done over the last couple of weeks was look after me. He was safety. He was respectful distances and a nonjudgmental ear.

  He lowered the phone and raised his brows.

  I looked away and took a step back. “I don’t know yet. But I need it to be…”

  “Can he manage civil?”

  “He can when he has to.”

  He raised the phone to his ear, and I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up a hand. “Lee? Sorry, mate, I know it’s short notice, can you come in early? You can get off early, or call it extra, whichever is best. Something came up. Yeah. I’ll be in for opening. It’s all open. Appreciate it. Yeah.”

  “What are you doing?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest.

  He smiled. “You need to go home. You need a coat and a change of clothes for this evening because I need you at work. I’m going to come with you and wait outside, if Pierce bothers you, I’ll be right in behind him, and we’ll go from there. Okay?”

  I frowned. “Why?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

  It absolutely wasn’t the right thing to do. The right thing to do was to leave it alone, but I’d stupidly involved him and now he felt obliged to try and help.

  All his involvement was likely to do was piss Johnathan off, but I supposed it couldn’t get any worse.

  “He’ll get angry…”

  “I’m already fucking angry,” he said with more venom than I would ever have expected. Then he paused, checking himself. I waited, not sure what had brought on such a response. It couldn’t have been concern for me, he only really knew me in a professional capacity. Voice softening, he continued, “He just needs to see you mean what you say. If you want to end it he has to respect that. All I plan to do is give him a nudge in the right direction.”

  “And if he won’t?”

  Callum grinned. “I’m sure Mrs. Pierce would like a complimentary dinner at my restaurant after the debacle a few days ago. Imagine him knowing I’m aware of his actions while waiting his table personally.”

  I met his gaze. There was a quiet rage simmering within him. I wanted to ask why but didn’t think I’d like the answer. Instead, I nodded.

  “Perfect. Let me grab a jacket and my keys, and we’ll see if he’s waiting for you. If not it’s all the better.”

  Wondering what the hell I’d just started, I nodded and followed him out.

  I’d seen his car plenty but had never been in it. He’d gotten it last year, BMW X5. I expected him to drive something sportier, but I’d seen him bringing in stock from various places so assumed he needed the trunk space.

  The door closed quietly, and I sank back into the comfortable seat. What I’d give to drive it. I had a license but hadn’t been able to afford a car. Even if I had the money for the vehicle, I couldn’t afford the daily running costs. Anyway, walking was free and good for you. I kept telling myself that, and it lessened the frustration.

  He slid in and fastened the seatbelt with one hand, pushing the ignition with the other.

  “No key?” I asked, confused.

  He just laughed.

  “I want to drive past first, see if he’s there.”

  I hoped to god he wasn’t. “Why?”

  He was reversing out of the drive, so when he didn’t answer I waited a minute before asking again.

  “People like him… I don’t want him to get away with this. It’s important he stops hurting you and doesn’t do this to anyone else. You deserve better, Bekah.”

  “Some would say I was getting what I deserved,” I said quietly, looking out the window.

  “Some have their priorities wrong. Adultery isn’t against the law. Rape is. Assault is. If there’s to be a punishment it should fit the crime.”

  I remained silent but glanced his way. I hadn’t thought about it like that. I hadn’t considered what had been happening could have been… I couldn’t even form the word in my head. The way Callum had spelled it out was what I needed.

  Despite the clear anger in his voice he showed no outward signs. I wondered about it as he turned down the road that led to my flat and slowed down.

  “Which is yours?” he asked, scanning the buildings.

  I pointed ahead. “The newer build. There’s parking down the… he isn’t here.”

  He pulled into the parking space beneath my kitchen window and said, “Get some things together. Take your time, I won’t leave.”

  “Things for what?” I asked, unfastening my seatbelt.

  “I’ll bring you home after work on Sunday,” was all he said.

  I didn’t bother to argue. I knew he was right.

  Chapter Nine

  Callum put me in one of the hotel rooms over the weekend. Since it was so soon after Christmas the hotel had no bookings, and it kept me well out of Johnathan’s reach. I went to work at the gas station Friday and Saturday, and by the time I’d finished my shift at the hotel on Sunday night I was exhausted. I’d just finished the last load of dishes when Lucy asked if I wanted a lift home.

  “No, thanks,” I said, trying not to look or sound nervous. “I’ll be picked up a bit later. You in next weekend?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m off for two weeks, going to Tenerife to visit family.”

  “Nice. I’ll see you when you get back then.”

  I heard her mum’s car pull away and took off my apron. I headed for the staff room where I’d find the laundry bin with everyone else’s dirty aprons and could transfer them to the utility. I’d just reached out to open the door when it opened, and I sucked in a startled breath.

  “Shit, you scared me.”

  He started to laugh. “Sorry, need to put this lot on for tomorrow,” he said, waving the laundry bag at me.

  My nerves steadying, I handed him mine and said, “I’m done in. That seemed like a really hard shift.”

  Stuffing the apron in the bag, he smirked and said, “Maybe you’re overtired.”

  I turned and walked back into the kitchen. “Don’t start again on my working pattern. I can’t do anything about it.”

  “I think that’s bollocks,” he said, walking around me to the utility. “Have a look in the fridge”—he points to the one in the corner— “I think there are some steaks left. Drag them out with the potatoes and vegetables I’ve plated. I’ll knock something together.”

  It had been the same all weekend. We’d worked, we’d eaten, we’d gone up to our rooms and passed out. Or at least I had. I didn’t really know what he’d done when he went upstairs.

  When he came back, the items were arranged on the gleaming silver worktop along with the correct color boards, knives, a fresh cloth, and sani
tizer fluid.

  “Ever considered training as a chef?” he asked when he came back.

  I laughed. “Not a chance. I can’t cook to save myself, my limit is roasting a chicken. Not to mention the hours are mental.”

  He was washing his hands but looked back at me with raised brows.

  “Seriously. You start at, what, ten am for a six pm opening time? Balls to that.”

  “It’s very rewarding.”

  “Yeah? So is seeing those happy faces at seven thirty in the morning when they have their piss water vending machine coffee and their petrol before they’re off to work. The food delivery job isn’t bad, either. I get the occasional thank you out there,” I said nodding to the door leading to the restaurant. “I’ll stick to my two menial jobs, thanks.”

  He shook his head in what I hoped was mock disappointment and set to work pulling out pans and grabbing utensils.

  I leaned against the sink and watched as he methodically moved from stove to fridge, fridge to stove, reaching for oil, garlic, and butter before setting a cast iron skillet on the gas.

  “What are you doing?” I asked as he set to work chopping leftover vegetables.

  He reached for the plate of cold veggies. “I’ll chop these and fry them off with garlic and butter, cover with cheese and grill. The steak I’ll cook as usual to your liking. Simple but filling.”

  I nodded. I’d eaten better over the weekend than I had in weeks. I’d spent too much on the stupid pen I’d gotten Johnathan for Christmas, so money had been tight since the beginning of December. It was now ten days into January. “Sounds good.”

  He carried on cooking, and I went off into the dining room. The tables were all cleared, the cloths in the utility waiting for Louisa when she came in to clean the following morning, and I closed the curtains before setting the table nearest the kitchen door.

  When I went back into the kitchen the vegetables were already under the grill and Callum had started on the steak.

  “How do you like it?” He asked.

  “Quick and...” I stopped myself and started again. “Medium rare, please.”