When there is finally nothing left on the table but a pile of crumbs and our bellies are stuffed full of sugary goodness we both sit back with a groan. “Oh my god. I am so going to have to go for a run tomorrow morning to compensate for this,” Michelle tells me, making me laugh.
“Well, I am already the size of a house,” I say. “So I don’t think I’ll be running anywhere at the moment.”
“At least you have the justification that you are eating for two…” Michelle trails off with an arch of her eyebrow.
“Yeah, well, apparently that is no longer an excuse these days. It’s all about little and often, not gorging yourself to the point of bursting,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. Michelle starts giggling and I finally join in, her good humour infectious.
Five minutes later we are exiting the café, saying our goodbyes with promises to meet later in the week for drinks, or in my case a mocktail of some description. I stick out my hand, flagging down a cab quickly—thank heavens for lazy Sundays in the city—and give Michelle a final wave as I instruct the cabbie to head to the apartment at Hudson International.
I settle back into my seat and stare out the window as the city flashes by. After Hannah’s attack, there was no way I could even step back into my flat above Bread & Cake. I tried, I really did, but I was gripped with panic attacks every time I attempted to open the front door. Staying in a hotel long-term was not an option so Taylor and I made the decision of temporarily making the London apartment home until the two Brighton flats could be gutted and renovated so that they would longer be recognisable.
In the end, I gave into Taylor’s demand to pay for the renovations, putting my own pride aside so that the work could be completed before Bean arrives. Even though all my stuff is in the apartment, I still struggle to think of it as my home, but it’s funny how your priorities change when there is a baby involved.
To make life easier for me, Mum has been handling the contractors and architects so all I have had to do is sign off the plans and give her my ideas on decoration. This has been the only way to make sure that the project gets completed without succumbing to the panic attacks that seem to grip me every time my mind wanders back to that night, or to the place I used to call home.
I had thought I was okay after Hannah’s attack, but it seems that the opening of Cake and then the wedding had just put off the inevitable. Once the honeymoon was over, it seemed like my peace-of-mind shattered. Night after night, I would wake, screaming and dripping with sweat, as I relived Hannah’s attack. Some nights I died, sometimes she ripped Bean, dead and glistening with blood, from my belly and other nights it was Taylor that she repeatedly stabbed. I feel like I spend so much time in therapy these days that I could probably qualify to be one myself.
I think things would be better if I didn’t have the trial looming over my head. Initially, Hannah had pleaded guilty to attempted murder so I had been enormously relieved that I would avoid a trial and having to testify. But then after a couple of days she changed her plea and now we have to go through my worst nightmare, a public trial complete with a jury and everything. To make matters worse, because of Taylor’s high profile, the local court decided that the case need to be heard in London so now everything is set to take place in The Old Bailey, London’s oldest criminal court.
How am I even going to be able to look at Hannah I don’t know, especially considering what this trial is also doing to Taylor. Seeing Hannah alive, and knowing what she had done to me, just ripped a hole through him. I can see him blaming himself for it all; for not saving Hannah all those years ago and barely managing to save me that night. He seems to be spending as much time in therapy as me these days, but it doesn’t appear to be helping. Instead, he is drawing further and further into himself, shutting me out and leaving me to deal with all of my fears alone.
The taxi glides to a halt outside the private entrance to the apartment and I blink in surprise, coming out of the reverie I had been lost in. I pay the cabbie and check over my shoulder, a nervous habit that I have developed, before quickly punching in the key code and slipping inside. I hold my breath nervously as the lift makes its way up to the top floor. I wonder whether Taylor will around, or if he will simply slip into bed with me at some ludicrous hour tonight and then be gone before I wake in the morning, as seems to be his routine these days.
I am immediately assaulted by the emptiness of the apartment as I step out of the lift. I glance around and see nothing has been moved which means Taylor is probably still holed up in his office. Something catches my eye, and I see a large white padded envelope sat on the console table off to the side. I amble across and see it has my name on it in a handwritten script that I don’t recognise. Curiosity gets the better of me and I slide my finger under the flap that seems to only be secured by a wax seal. I briefly wonder if it might be an invite for an event but before the thought is even fully formed there is a loud banging noise that correlates with me pulling the flap open.
I gasp as tiny pieces of confetti fly out of the package. I fling it away from me, my heart hammering in my chest. My breaths are coming out of me rapid and uneven and I know that I moments off a panic attack. I use the breathing techniques Dr Grohl has taught me and after a couple of minutes I find myself calm enough to recollect what day it is…April Fool’s Day. I scowl, thinking that this is someone’s really crap idea of a joke. That is until I glance at the envelope lying on the floor and see underneath the flap, written in bold capitals ‘BANG, BANG. YOU’RE DEAD’.
I gasp loudly, tears forming in my eyes as I fight for control over my emotions. Before I even really know what I am doing, I am running towards the lift where I punch the button for Taylor’s office, my hands shaking violently as I send up a silent prayer that I will find him in there.
.........................
I am still huddled on the sofa in Taylor’s office while everyone deals with the fallout of the package. Needless to say, Taylor had looked at me like I was crazy when I flew into the room, shaking and barely coherent. But the moment I told him to call Henry he flew into action and now, hours later, we are still excluded from the apartment while Henry has searched the building from top to bottom.
The fact that there was no postmark means that the package was brought into the building and even more worrying, is the fact that Taylor never collected it from the mailroom where our personal mail is usually left. Which means that whoever delivered the parcel brought it right up to the apartment, somehow bypassing all the extra security that Taylor had installed only a few months ago. To say Taylor is livid, is the understatement of the century.
“You okay, Abs?” Taylor asks softly from the doorway and I wonder how long he has been stood there. Dark shadows are etched under his eyes and everything about him seems rumpled and unkempt.
“Are they nearly finished, Taylor?” I ask quietly. Truthfully, I am exhausted and really just want to have a bath and go to bed, and most important of all, try to forget the implications of the message in the envelope.
“Henry is just finishing the last sweep of the building and will be back here in a moment to let us know his findings.” Taylor moves wearily across the room, his tread heavy as if he is bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders, and comes to sit down next to me.
“I don’t know how much more of this I can take, Taylor,” I say, unconsciously rubbing my belly. “It feels like we are constantly under attack, that I am always watching my back because the bogeyman might just jump out me at any moment.”
Taylor lets out a sigh and begins to rub the bridge of his nose in agitation and I know that I need to address the elephant in the room. “I need you, Taylor. Bean needs you too. You can’t just keep shutting yourself away and burying your head in your work. I am almost at breaking point here and we are supposed to be a team…” I trail off wondering if maybe I have gone too far.
Taylor turns and looks at me for a moment before reaching out and tenderly rubbing my belly. “I was trying
to keep all this shit away from you, Abs. My heads is a mess. I feel like I am slowly being eaten up with guilt from the inside because of what happened to you. And truthfully, I feel like I am just waiting for you to come to your senses and call it quits on us.”
I can’t help the shock that spreads across my face. Is this really how he feels? “I can’t believe after all this you think I would leave? I am carrying your baby, Taylor. That means we are a team. And the only way we can get through this trial and all the other crap that seems to rain down on us is if we pull together and present a united front.” Taylor nods his head and I see his expression soften slightly.
“Go, Team Hudson!” Taylor says, putting on a fake, overly-enthusiastic American accent.
“Exactly,” I reply, ignoring the sarcasm. “Richard can only scare us, can only beat us, if we are divided. That is the only way he wins. And I will be damned if I let that bastard ruin my marriage.” I give Taylor a corny smile and stick my hand out in front of me, palm facing down. “You in?” I ask.
“I’m in,” Taylor responds placing his hand over mine before gently pulling me against him and planting a soft kiss on my lips.
A moment later a large man enters the room, shattering the moment. Henry looks furious. “Your brother is like a fucking ghost, Taylor," he snarls. I am taken aback momentarily, having never seen this gentle giant so angry.
“We change the codes daily, every entrance to this place is monitored by cameras, every door is alarmed. Yet he always seems to be one step ahead of us. I don’t know how he is gaining access to the building and at this stage I am going to have to assume that either he can walk through walls or someone is letting him in.” Henry lets out a harsh breath signally the end of his rant. “Taylor, I know we have been through all of this before, but is there anyone in your company that has ever acted suspiciously, or may even have a grudge against you? It may even be something that seemed downright petty when it occurred but has spiralled over time.”
“I don’t know, Henry. I have been going through all the employee files for the last couple of weeks to see if anyone had lodged grievances with human resources, but there is nothing that leaps out beyond a couple of performance reviews. But those guys turned things around and their next ones were great, in fact, one of them even got a bonus because of it. So I can’t see a leak coming from there. I pay my staff well, I treat them well and I thought I had had their loyalty. I just can’t see who this mysterious person could be. And believe me, I would rather not have to consider whether my brother can walk through walls…”
Suddenly Taylor goes pale. “Or maybe he can. Shit! I can’t believe I forgot about this!” Taylor exclaims with agitation going to his desk and scrabbling through some papers. Finally, he brings out two sets of what looks like architectural drawings and lays them flat out on the table.
Both Henry and I wait in silence as Taylor scans both drawings before suddenly stabbing his finger onto the one. “Here it is!” We both look at him like he is going mad. “When I was designing the renovation of the building, one thing I was concerned about was a fire, mainly because access up to the penthouse is limited to the lift. So I designed in a shaft that was big enough for a person to climb down and exit the building safely. Because it comes out externally, and I was worried about security, I kept the shaft off the final blueprints so that I was the only one who knew about it. It needs a code to access both ends, but I haven’t ever used it so it will be the original one I programmed. I can’t believe I forgot about that,” Taylor repeats in agitation. “The shaft comes out by the storage area for the bins so it won’t be monitored by the cameras.”
“Okay, Taylor, let’s go have a look,” Henry suggests. I decide to go with them because there is no way in hell I am staying behind if Richard truly is in the friggin walls. This is like the worst horror movie out there.
As we enter the apartment, I am pleased to see there are already a couple of Henry’s guys waiting for us. Taylor indicates across to a bookshelf and I start to feel like I really am in some kind of movie. Who the hell has a secret passage behind bookshelves in this day and age? I look across to Taylor, who is apparently reading my thoughts. “Hey. I thought it would be cool to hide it behind the bookcase. I was feeling all James Bond when it was designed,” he mumbles at me. No wonder Taylor had forgotten all about his secret shaft.
Taylor walks across to the bookcase and removes a couple of the titles, exposing a keypad hidden in a recess. He taps in several numbers and then suddenly the whole bookcase is swinging open to reveal a large dark hole. Several seconds later lights start blinking on, illuminating the shaft as we all step forward to peer down into its murky depths. Once the final light illuminates the bottom of the chute, we all breathe a collective sigh of relief; it is empty. I guess it was not just me wondering if we would find Richard hiding down there.
Taylor takes a step back, pulling me with him as he wraps his arms around me. “Let Henry and me deal with this and I will come back up in a bit and we can put our feet up for a movie night,” Taylor suggests.
Part of me just wants to run screaming from the apartment, but another part is fed up with running, or being haunted by the demons that seem to drive Richard. So I make a silent vow to myself, to Bean and to Taylor; this stops now. Giving Taylor a soft smile I let him know that I am good with that.
When the last of the burly men that make up Henry’s every increasing security team exit the apartment I decide I need a little of my own homemade therapy. So I walk through to the kitchen area and begin by pulling out my trusty mixer.
The Second
As I step into Bread & Cake the aroma wraps around me like a warm, comforting scarf; no one can ever feel bad when the smell of fresh croissants tickles your nose. My journey down from London this morning was a breeze for a change. I managed to get a seat thanks to my enormous baby bump and even had some time to catch Michelle up on the latest news. Needless to say, she was just as horrified by the thought that Richard seemed to be in the walls as I was. But Taylor and Henry have assured me that while the shaft apparently looked like it had been accessed on a regular basis, they had now changed the codes, as well as installed additional alarms and cameras all around. Still, I can’t help but feel like he will just find another way in.
Bea, my amazing shop manager, gives me a broad smile in greeting while she loads up another basket of rolls on the shelf. It is only eight a.m. but it looks like the first batch has already sold out. A moment later Andreas comes out, wiping the flour dust on his apron. “Abby, you are here,” he says by way of greeting.
“Morning all. Yes, actually managed to get the train on time, and I even got a seat,” I respond cheerfully, determined to put yesterday out of my mind. I quickly get immersed in the morning routine and am startled to find it is already nine when the shop bell goes and Nicola, Taylor’s sister, walks in.
She gives a loud squeal as she runs up to me, in that way that only a teenager can get away with, before enveloping me in a hug. “Gosh, Abs. Look at you. You are so big,” she says.
“Thanks,” I say dryly and watch as her cheeks tinge pink as she realises what her words imply. “It’s okay, Stix. I know what you meant. Bean seems to be getting bigger by the day and I am starting to feel like one of those hippos from Fantasia, only less graceful.” We both start giggling and it reminds me why I love her so much.
“So are you ready to start work then?” I ask Nicola and she gives me an enthusiastic nod. Nicola recently turned sixteen and had been looking for a part-time job so I had suggested that she came work in Bread & Cake when she had popped in for a visit a couple of weeks ago. I think Taylor was relieved that someone would be keeping an eye on her as, since Taylor’s refusal to invite his mother to our wedding, he has not been allowed to visit his sister at their parent’s house. I am not sure if Nicola has actually told her mother where she will be working but, hey, at least I will get to see her a bit more regularly now. Well for the duration of the holidays at least.
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I introduce Stix to all the staff and then leave her in Emma’s capable hands to train her on our hulking great beast that is the coffee machine while Alison gets on and serves the smattering of customers that are enjoying their breakfasts. I take a moment to survey the place, loving the fact that, as a team, we have managed to create a café even better than the one I used to dream about. I retreat back to my usual corner where I haul out my laptop and phone and proceed to get on with the really boring jobs that my Monday mornings usually seem to entail.
The time seems to fly by and before I know it Nicola is laying down a plate with a grilled panini and a tall glass of juice. “You need to eat, Abs,” Stix says softly and I see the worry etched across her young features.
“Thanks, hon,” I respond, only now noticing the growl of my stomach. “But you don’t need to worry about me, sweetie,” I say.
“Well, that is my niece you are baking in there, so of course I am going to worry. About you and her.” I smile softly and rub my belly, loving how the word ‘niece’ sounds coming out of Stix’s mouth. I guess I tend to forget that there are other people who will have a relationship with Bean, not just Taylor and me. Since neither of us had the patience to wait to find out whether Bean was going to be a boy or a girl, as soon as we were able to, we found out the sex of our baby.
I think Taylor would have been happy either way, but the fact that it is a little girl has brought out his protective instincts even more. It is weird, but for the first couple of months, although we knew I was pregnant, it still didn’t really feel real. It was only after the nightmare with Hannah’s attack that the reality that we could have lost her sunk in. That, and the fact that my expanding waistline couldn’t hide the fact that I was slowly turning into a walking, talking marshmallow.
Book Three: Thirty Days, Book 3 Page 2