by L M Allen
I’ll pack when I get home tonight. And I’ll ask Mum to keep Summer until morning.
***
The Nook is deathly quiet when I get in. Was it really only a few weeks ago that it was full of fun and laughter? Fairy wings and face paint? It seems like a lifetime ago.
I flop onto the sofa and grab a cushion as something to wrap my arms around. It’s a poor substitute. The pain hits me again from nowhere, making me gasp out loud as it slices through my heart. My stomach shrivels and squeezes in on itself, and tears blind my eyes.
“I don’t think I can do this,” I gasp. “What the hell am I still doing here?” I dash away the tears. Keep moving forward, Eva. Keep moving.
I need to pack. I throw the stupid cushion back on the sofa and jog up the stairs to get started. And quickly realise my holdall is at Escape. Shit!
Well, I can’t very well pack without it, can I? So I grab my car keys and leave before I can change my mind.
When I pull up in Escape’s car park, I’m really questioning my own sanity. But I’m here now. There’s no point leaving without it.
I pull out my key card, surprised when it still opens the main door. And I make my way quickly through the foyer and the dimly lit rooms to the stairs, and grip the banister tight, my hand leaving clammy smears on the shiny wood.
I tap on the door to Will’s suite, not wanting to wake Mae, but there’s no answer, so I knock louder. He must be there. Or maybe he’s working? I try the card again, and the lock clicks. I step inside and rush through to the lounge. And freeze.
Will’s shirt is thrown over the back of the sofa...His boots are discarded on the floor. With his jeans. And there’s a red dress beside them.
No. No! This can’t be fucking happening. The bedroom door clicks open, and I look up sharply. It’s not Will. It’s a stunning, statuesque blonde...searching for her dress. I clamp my lips together.
Don’t scream. Don’t cry. Don’t throw up.
“Who the hell are you?” she demands.
“I...I just needed to collect something I left here. I...” Will comes into view, sauntering towards us in his boxers. I notice he has several bruises on his torso.
Don’t react. Don’t react. Don’t react.
“Eva,” he slurs, and throws an arm around the woman. “What do you want?” He’s drunk. His eyes are unfocused.
“I left my holdall.”
“I’ll get it.” But before he does, he pulls her close, his hands on her arse and kisses her deeply. When he lets her go, she stumbles, dazed. I know that feeling. And it’s knowing I will never have it again that shatters my soul into sharp shards where I stand.
“Here,” he spits, holding my luggage out to me. I keep my eyes downcast when I reach out for it, but I can smell the alcohol. Will doesn’t let go. “No!” he yells, making me jump. “You don’t get to look like that! You ripped my fucking heart out, Eva! So, you don’t get to look like that when I fuck someone else too. I don’t like double fucking standards,” he snarls.
I stare up to pure hatred, in the eyes that used to hold the world. “No, I didn’t. You did that to yourself.”
“Why can’t you just admit it? Why do you have to keep on lying?”
“Can I have the bag, please?”
“No! Not until you answer me!”
“I’m not lying, Will. I would never...I loved you so much.”
“Liar!” he roars again, with such ferocity that I can’t take it anymore. I turn around and run. The bag lands in the foyer before I do, and I snatch it up and keep running.
I have to pull over just outside the gate. To breathe. To cry. To scream. To hit something. He’s in there now. The love of my life. In the hotel we launched together, screwing another woman, while I sit here and fall apart, carrying his baby. Oh yeah, and he hates my guts.
What the fuck has happened to my life?
When the sun is coming up, I drive back to The Nook and stumble through the door. I don’t think I’d survive the stairs if I tried, so I make my way to the garden and fall onto a sun lounger for a few hours of sleep, my heart destroyed and my head hanging on by a thread.
Chapter 6
The sunlight is insisting I wake up. The migraine pounding my temples and stabbing my eyes advises sleep. The rolling waves in my stomach suggest I should find the nearest loo. I roll over just in time to heave all over my lawn.
“Shit,” I splutter, and wipe my mouth on the back of my hand. This isn’t morning sickness. This is from the migraine pain. But what can I take? I’m p... Does it matter? I won’t be pregnant this time next week. The pills are tucked in a drawer upstairs. There’s no point taking them while I’m throwing up. They won’t work. So it’ll have to be later. Not tomorrow. That would be too much, not on Summer’s birthday. Tomorrow? To...fuck! Today!
It’s today! I pull out my phone to check the time—07:30 a.m. She’ll be up. She always is.
I force movement into my aching body, text Mum to tell her I’m coming to collect Summer, clean up the lawn, grab the fucking holdall and run up the stairs, throwing the pills and random clothing in before jumping in the car and racing to Mum’s.
“Happy birthday!” I call loudly as Mum lets me in, barely looking at me. She must be disappointed she won’t get to spend much time with her granddaughter today.
“Muma!” Summer squeals. At least someone is happy to see me. I crouch down, opening my arms wide and praying to the paracetamol gods for a speedy recovery.
“Happy birthday, beautiful girl.”
“Fank-yow.” She beams as she flies at me, and I squeeze her tight.
“Now. Jump in. We’re off.” I jerk my head towards the front door with as wide a smile as I can produce.
“What about preschool?” Mum asks the floor.
“Not today. We’re going to celebrate!” I don’t have a bloody clue where this cheery chick has come from, but I hope she sticks around for the duration. She seems like she knows how to have fun.
Summer kisses her nan goodbye and I open the car, ushering her in excitedly. I strap her in and clunk the door. “Happy birthday, Summer!” Mum calls. I can hear the tears in her voice. If I had a heart left, I might even care.
“Are you ready, birthday girl?” I look at Summer in the rear-view mirror and she nods like a Churchill dog. “Great! Let’s go.”
“Where are we going, Muma?” Summer asks as I pull out into the road.
“To the seaside.”
“Oooh!” she squeals. “Is Mae coming twoo?”
Ouch!
“No, we’re going to have a special time. Just us.”
I glance at her again in the mirror. I can see her thinking, so I turn the radio on and up, ignoring the throbbing in my head. She does love a singalong.
Three and a bit hours later, and we’ve arrived in sunny Suffolk. I follow the satnav’s every command and arrive at our holiday rental. It looks nice. Well-kept.
I pull to a stop outside the cottage, and reach for my phone and the email with the passcode to access the keys in the safety box. I memorise it and go to retrieve them. Summer jumps out too, dashing around like a cooped-up racehorse.
“Let’s go!” I open the door and hold it wide for her, as she runs in before scampering around from room to room and dashing up the stairs. “I’ve fownd my woom, Mum!”
“Okay!” I call back as I wander outside to the car for the holdall.
***
“I want the bue and geen won, pease.” Summer points up at the display of mermaid tails hanging in the beachside shop, bouncing up and down. The shop owner smiles kindly.
“Of course. You know, we have that one in adult sizes too,” she tells Summer with a wink.
Oh. Fuck. Off.
“Muma! We can be twins!” Summer squeals, bouncing twice as fast.
“Great!” I force a bright smile. Fucking great.
When we make it to the beach, laden down with bodyboards, bucket and spade, beach ball and of course, a mermaid tail a piece, I’
m done in. I could really use a nap.
Summer doesn’t know what a nap is.
“Can I put it on now?” she asks for the gazillionth time. I nod and flop onto the sand beside her discarded sundress with a huff. And realise I’m being a grump. My mess is hardly Summer’s fault, is it?
“Come here. I’ll help you.”
“I can do it.”
“I know you can. I just thought it’d be quicker.” I step out of my jeans, my swimwear underneath, and grab my own tail and sit to wiggle it up my legs. It’s a lot stretchier than it looks. I might even be able to walk in it. It actually feels quite nice. Slinky.
Summer pulls up her own tail and giggles, before turning around and around in circles in the sand. “Gorgeous,” I declare. “You’re the most beautiful mermaid I’ve ever met. Shall we take a photo?” She nods and dives for my jeans, knowing exactly where my phone will be, as I pull off my T-shirt to reveal the bikini top. Now I really look like a mermaid, according to Summer.
“I thought you were a real mermaid for a minute there!” I turn my head, searching for the owner of the voice. I roll my eyes, so not in the mood for this shit. I know that look.
“I’m pretty sure they’re widely acknowledged to be mythical creatures.”
“Not from where I’m standing.” I sigh and direct my attention to the water.
“Bring the board, Summer!” I call as Summer splashes out a bit further. She turns back and grabs it.
“I’m Rhys.”
“I’m not interested.” I really don’t care at this point if he thinks I’m rude. I just want the conversation ended. Now.
“Whoa! Are you always such a charmer, or is it me?”
“Summer? Are you hungry, sweet pea?” Three, two...And she’s right there, nodding and giving me big eyes.
“Me too. Let’s go grab some special birthday dinner!”
***
“So? How was your birthday?” I pull Summer closer and kiss her freshly washed hair as we sit in her bed, a finished storybook, which Summer found in one of the cupboards, on my lap.
“Gweat!”
“What was your favourite bit?” I ask, stifling a yawn. It’s barely 07:30 p.m., and I’m ready for bed myself.
“Being a mermaid! I cwan’t wait to tell Mae!”
Stab! I rub away the pain in my chest and force a bright smile.
“You’ll have lots to tell all your friends when we get home, won’t you?” I kiss her hair and swing my legs around, planting my feet on the floor.
“Yep.” Summer snuggles down, and I pull her sheets up higher as her eyes flutter closed.
“Good night, sweet pea. I love you.” I lean in and press my lips to her hair again, before turning around and heading straight for my bed.
I strip off my jeans and T-Shirt and fall onto the bed, not even bothering to get under the covers. I feel like my body has been hijacked, and there’s nothing for it but to give in and sleep for twelve hours straight.
Darkness has enveloped the room. I can hear the ocean waves, crashing in the distance, as his lips brush mine, coaxing them into a kiss that leaves me aching in a different way. He moves over me, and my legs part, making space for his as his mouth and hands explore my body.
“Will,” I murmur and he groans, his fingertips inching closer to the waistband of my underwear, before he eases them down and off, and kisses and licks his way up my calf.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I know I was an idiot.” His words are so quiet. Mumbled between kisses. “Please forgive me?” He nudges my legs wider and growls before plunging his tongue inside me. My lower back arches, and my fingers claw at the sheets as I writhe under his restraining hands on my hips. I know I should say something. That this isn’t...helping?
Oh! I jolt when he nips my clit, and circles mercilessly with the tip of his tongue.
“Can you forgive me, Eva?”
“Yes! Yes, please don’t stop.” Fuck it, we’ll talk in the morning. Or never? As long as he doesn’t bloody stop. When he slides two fingers inside me and moves them in and out, alternating between the slow pumping and a delicious come-hither motion, I don’t care what he’s done. What he said. What he thought. I don’t care. I just don’t want this to end. This is how we are together. This is how we should be.
I call out his name as he takes me higher. Closer. Hotter. And groan a long, drawn-out sound when pure ecstasy takes over. My breathing is short and sharp. My body is on fire. Will shifts and moves up, kissing a trail all the way to my breasts. “Ahh!” Bloody hell, that’s intense!
“You okay?” I swallow hard.
“Ye-yes, it’s just...sensitive.”
“Hmm. That could be fun.” He flicks his tongue over my hard nipple, and I cry out again. And when he slides inside me, I come instantly.
“Did you just...?” I nod, my eyes closed while I try to stay conscious as he rocks into me, causing sparks with every tiny movement. So, this is pregnant sex? Bloody hell!
“You’re so sensitive. Has it been a while, baby?”
“Yes!” I gulp. “And...I’m pregnant.” He stops moving...and I wait. And wait. I scrunch my eyes tight and slowly blink my heavy lids open.
The room is dark. I can hear the ocean waves still crashing in the distance; my body is on fire but I’m alone. I struggle upright, but there’s no sign of Will or anyone else.
Pregnant sex? Pregnant dreams is more like it. I slide under the sheets and throw myself down onto the mattress. Bloody hormones! Well, I know how to solve that problem. I throw my weight around, rummage in the holdall under my bed, and grab the pills. I choose the mifepristone and lie back, the packet in my hand.
It’s just a tiny cluster of cells. It’s not a baby. It’s not even a foetus yet. But...it probably has a heartbeat...It’s developing rapidly, more and more human by the second. It’s...not my fucking problem! I can’t do this. Not again.
But...can I really kill it? Can I really kill my baby? Will’s baby?
I groan and chuck the pill back in the holdall. I don’t have to decide right now. I have time.
Chapter 7
Monday morning arrives with the promise of a headless chicken impression. I wish we could have stayed in Suffolk just a little while longer. But the sea air at least cleared my head enough to make some decisions. I need to sort my life out. I need to keep moving.
I log on to my online banking and transfer two hundred and fifty thousand pounds from my savings to my current account. And then to Bells’s.
It makes me sick to do it, but I mean it when I say I’m done. I’m done trying to convince people of who I am. And who I’m not. Especially people who should already know. I take a scan of the letter she sent me and forward it to the accountant via email, with a note explaining that E:Vents is no longer a partnership. It’s the most sickening email I’ve ever had to write. My hand is shaking as I click send, but I refuse to cry anymore.
Adapt or die.
Next, I pull up Google and search local events companies. There are tons of them! I need coffee.
***
“Okay. I get it. You don’t like coffee,” I gasp as I heave again into the toilet. When I’m sure I’m done, I stand up straight and flush. “Summer didn’t either.”
What the hell am I doing? I’m not keeping it.
I flick the lock open and wash my hands before I make my way back to my desk, ready to seek and find a good local events company I might be able to subcontract. And judging by the hundreds of search results, this could take some time.
Several hours later, I’m sitting in another reception area, waiting for another director.
“Hi. Eva, is it?”
“Hi. Yes, that’s right.” I reach out and shake the hand of the man who runs the fourth events company on the short list, and after declining his offer of coffee, follow him into his office, glad to sit down again. It’s been a bloody long day.
“How can I help you?”
“If I said I wanted to organise a birthda
y party for my daughter, how soon could you do that?”
“Ah, well...it depends. We’re actually closing down at the end of next month, so it would depend on how soon is soon.”
“You’re closing? Why?” He nods.
“I’m retiring. To New Zealand.”
“Oh.” I gaze through the internal window at the office full of staff. Every one of them still knee-deep in something at nearly 07:00 p.m. “So...all these people...? Need a job?”
“Most.” His expression is almost guilty as he gazes out to his staff. “I did ask Alyssa there to take over, but she’s young. She said she’s not ready.” His brow creases. “Why? Are you in recruitment?”
“Not exactly.” I take a deep breath and tell him what I’m beginning to think.
Glenn looks up from E:Vents’s website, his shaggy eyebrows raised in high arches. “You’re E:Vents?”
“Yes.”
He directs his attention back to the screen. “I’ve heard a lot about you ladies.”
“Well, it’s just me now. Bells is...on maternity leave, so I really need some help. I was hoping to subcontract, as I said, but this seems like the perfect solution.”
“It does,” he agrees, clicking on something else.
“And if you have any ongoing contracts, we could draw up an introducer agreement.” He pushes away from his desk, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his round belly.
“Eva. This all sounds good. Can I think it over this evening? I need to talk to my wife. If she’s happy, I’ll talk to the staff in the morning, and I’ll get back to you by lunchtime. How’s that?”
“Great. Thanks, Glenn.”
“Are you feeling okay? You look a bit pale?”
“Yeah, fine. Just been a long day.” I give him a weak smile and stand, ready to leave. He holds out his big, warm hand, but there’s concern in his old eyes that I can’t stand.