“It’s no problem at all,” Victoria says kindly before dropping her voice so that only I can hear her, “Mums. They mean well, huh?”
I let out a soft laugh. “So true,” I say, already feeling a kind of kindred spirit with this lovely girl. When we get to the top of the stairs, Victoria has a look around and then suggests setting up on the large L-shaped sofa. “That way you can lie back with your feet up but you won’t be flat on your back causing pressure on your spine. I can still access your face and shoulders. Does that sound okay?”
“That sounds lovely,” I say and really it does. I take back all my grumbling, a pamper session is exactly what I need right now. “Before we start, though, can I get you a cup of tea, or a cold drink, or anything?” I ask.
Victoria politely declines and heads across to the sofa where she spreads out several large towels. No wonder she was carrying around such a big bag. She suggests changing my top for something that doesn’t cover my shoulders so I excuse myself and head to my bedroom. While I am digging around in my closet, I can hear Victoria and my mum chatting away and giggling together like a couple of schoolgirls making it clear that they are firm friends. I know it sounds crazy, but I worry about her when she goes out to the shoots abroad without my dad. But now that I am aware that Victoria will be there with her, I will feel a lot happier.
At last I spy the bandeau top that I am searching for, a soft grey jersey knit that hugs my breasts and my bump but leaves my shoulder bare. When I walk back into the living room, I find that the blinds have been pulled closed, even the ones on the skylights, the darkness softened by the various scented candles that are now dotted all around. Soft classical music fills the air and already I can feel myself unwinding with every step I take towards the sofa.
“Right, I’ll be downstairs, Abby,” my mum says softly. “I have your phone so nothing can disturb you. Enjoy!” My mum disappears down the stairs before I can protest, leaving Victoria and me alone.
I listen as Victoria explains all about the Neal’s Yard products she uses, appreciating the scents as she holds up the various jars to sniff. I love the fact that all the products are organic and when I try one of the hand creams she is holding it sinks into my skin leaving it feeling silky and soft.
“Right,” Victoria says. “I thought I would start with a facial and while the various masks are doing their thing, I’ll do a head massage and work on your neck and arms. Then afterwards I will give you a manicure and pedicure. How does that sound?”
“Like bliss,” I say with a smile as I lie back. I watch as Victoria begins laying out the lotions and potions and mixing up the oil for massaging my neck and shoulders. She gives me a few options and eventually I settle on the lemon essence, the tangy scent appealing to me the most.
I close my eyes as Victoria smoothes a paste onto my face and we chat quietly about my pregnancy for a while as she works. Eventually though we fall into a companionable silence as I concentrate on doing what I am supposed to be; relaxing. I completely lose track of time as I am lulled into a kind of hypnotic state by the music and the relaxing strokes of Victoria’s hands so by the time I finally open my eyes and glance at the clock I realise it is almost two o’clock. I suggest taking a break, but she smiles and says she is fine and moves down to begin my pedicure.
We chat some more and I find out all about how she got into being my mum’s beauty and massage therapist. As it turns out, she had just set up her own business when my mum saw one of her ads. My mum had gone for a facial and had come out insisting that Victoria accompany her on all her photo shoots. In the last few years, she had travelled to the Caribbean, Asia and Europe and enjoyed being able to explore those far-flung parts of the world while still doing the job she loves.
“Wow, that’s amazing. My mum has mentioned you a few times, but I always thought you were part of the crew rather than someone with my mum. So what do you do when you are back home?” I ask.
“I have a steady roster of clients so I just carry on with that,” Victoria explains. By the time Victoria finishes up, I am feeling well and truly like a new woman and when I glance at my sparkly toes and fingers, I can’t help but smile. I thank Victoria profusely and when she refuses payment, insisting that the session was on my mum, I tell her that, at the very least, I owe her a coffee and a slice of cake.
Whilst Victoria starts packing up her things up I slip out to my bedroom and quickly slide on a pair of jeans, the stretchy maternity kind that I have discovered are the comfiest things ever, and a loose peasant blouse before returning to the living room.
The café is jam-packed when we wonder downstairs and I am relieved that Mum thought to snag a few extra chairs for us. The rest of the afternoon passes in a whirl of good-natured gossip, cheesecake and hot chocolate until Victoria tells me she has another client later on in the evening and has to head off.
I do my best to express my gratitude to Victoria; she has made me feel human again and for that I owe her. But she merely shrugs it off and discreetly hands me her card telling me to give her a shout if I need some more pampering. Giving her a warm hug, I promise her that I will be in touch and tell her to pop in at any time for coffee and a catch-up.
By the time, my mother leaves life has caught up with me and I can’t stop the yawns that keep escaping my mouth. When I finally make it back upstairs, the couch lures me into its comfortable embrace. I try to stay awake as I wait for Taylor to come home but the pull of sleep is too strong and eventually I drift off snuggled under a soft blanket as an episode of Friends plays in the background.
The Twenty-Seventh
I have just pulled out a tray of brownies that I have been experimenting with when my phone rings. I consider ignoring it but when I see that it is Taylor calling I quickly put the tray down and pick up my phone. Taylor was in court today for the closing arguments today, but I had decided to give it a miss; I just couldn’t face hearing any more lies about me and having to run the gauntlet with the press whose numbers seemed to have increased exponentially over the last few days.
“Abs,” Taylor says before I even have a chance to say hello. “Abs, they have finished up their closing arguments.”
“Who?” I ask quickly trying figure out if I should be worried or not.
“Both sides,” Taylor replies sounding slightly exasperated at my confusion.
“Wow, that was quick. I thought it would go on for a while. At least until late this evening,” I reply.
“We thought so too. But the jury has just been dismissed to consider their verdict. Emelia reckons we might get the verdict today, or even Monday.” Taylor sounds excited, but I am desperately trying not to feel so eager for this ordeal to be over, just in case I somehow jinx it.
“Seriously?” I say, my voice dropping to a whisper as I contemplate the scenario.
“Seriously, Abs,” Taylor confirms. “And after Hannah’s outburst when those letters were revealed during her testimony I think some of the jury were definitely swayed. And when the Defence did their summation at the end you could actually see the anger on some of the juror’s faces. They don’t believe her anymore.”
“So, we might actually win this?” Hope fills me as I contemplate Taylor’s words. Even after Hannah’s outburst that showed she was guilty as hell, I couldn’t help but worry that seeds of doubt that the Defence had already planted would come to fruition.
“I think we stand a good chance,” Taylor responds.
“Wow,” I say softly at a loss for anything else to say as Taylor hangs up the phone.
The Twenty-Eighth &
The Twenty-Ninth
The definition of limbo is an uncertain period of awaiting a decision or resolution, an intermediate state or condition, and never have I felt this so acutely. When the call came in to say that the jury had reached their verdict we were excited to find out what the outcome would be. But then we were told that court would not reconvene until Monday morning and that meant a whole weekend stretched ahead of us knowing th
at the answer we were hoping for was just out of reach. Taylor has taken this all in his stride, me not so much.
I have spent most of the weekend sniping at Taylor, and even Stix has been getting on my nerves. I know it is not their fault, but the anticipation is killing me. I am a control freak at the best of times and the knowledge that twelve people, random strangers at that, hold my future in their very hands is completely unnerving. I wish I could say I had complete faith that the outcome of the trial will be in our favour, that Hannah will be put away for a very long time. But there is also this little part of me that keeps whispering in my ear that we will never be free of Richard and Hannah, that somehow they will find a way to continue making our lives hell.
I am sick of living under the constant scrutiny of Henry’s men. I know they are there for Bean’s and my safety but I yearn for a time where I can just take a random walk without having to tell anyone what I am doing or having a team of people following my every move. Or that my door doesn’t have to have some complicated entry system complete with ten million access codes and cameras. Or even that every person I come in contact with doesn’t have to go through a thorough background check.
In the end, I tucked myself away in my office and tried to bury myself in work. Eventually through I ran out of paperwork, the staff had been paid and the stock had been ordered for Monday morning so I decided to begin looking into the reality of the cooking classes I had been contemplating.
As I begin my research,–seriously how did we do anything before Google?–, my plans start to solidify in my head. I grab a pad of paper that I always keep on my desk and start laying down my thoughts, knowing that if I don’t write them down now this baby-brain thing I seem to be experiencing will mean everything could be forgotten.
My first option will be classes for young kids. I remember how much fun I used to have with Nonna even as a young girl helping to crack the eggs for a cake or decorating gingerbread men. I start writing a list of child-friendly things that could be made using the benches in the café as workstations and once I have ten things I am happy with I move onto my next option.
This would be for older kids and people just starting out with baking. I try to think of easy recipes that can be made without the need for a mixer, using just a bowl instead, and once have a few things in mind I move on to my final option; the masterclasses. I decide that these will be aimed at adults mostly who can already bake basic sponges and cakes but want to try more complicated recipes. These would need to be in the evenings once the café was shut so that I could set up proper workstations complete with stand mixers and everything else they would need.
I make a note to check on the health and safety implications and the public health guidelines with the council as I am sure there will be some procedures I will need to be put in place. When I am finally happy with what I want to offer, I begin working out the costs for each session as I will need to make sure that we cover the cost of the ingredients and any other incidentals like a take-home recipe sheet.
I am so engrossed with what I am doing that I barely notice when Taylor wanders in and out, bringing me drinks and snacks. On his part, I think he is just grateful that I am no longer yelling at him. Eventually, late on Sunday afternoon, he tells me enough is enough and insists we go out for a walk to get some fresh air.
“You have been cooped up in this office for the best part of two days now,” he tells me sternly. “Let’s take a walk and go sit on the beach while it’s still warm.”
“Okay,” I say stretching my arms above my head, grimacing when I hear the clicks in my neck.
We head down to the beach and when we get to the pebbles, Taylor spreads out the picnic blanket that he brought with him. I settle down in the middle, leaning back into Taylor’s chest when he sits down behind me. My mind is still busy with all my plans but as I begin to relax and take in the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore, the gulls squawking overhead and kids squealing with excitement my mind begins to still.
We sit like that in silence until the air begins to get fresher and the sun sinks towards the horizon. Eventually, Taylor leaves me to go in search of hot chocolate and when he returns I find myself grateful for its warmth. With his arms around me to ward off the breeze, I take a sip of my drink, savouring the silky chocolate before murmuring, “I am sorry for being such a bitch to you, Taylor.”
“I know you are stressed, Abby. Believe me, the idea of having to wait to hear the verdict is killing me too. But we’ll know tomorrow so let’s just forget about everything for this evening. Okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper, not sure what else I can say.
“So what have you been doing while you have been squirrelled away these last couple of days?” Taylor asks, changing the subject.
“Well…” I say hesitating only for a moment before I begin telling him all about David pushing me to find something that makes me happy and my idea for the baking classes. The first star of the evening has begun twinkling in the sky when I finally finish outlining my plans to Taylor. He asks me question after question and if I hadn’t known him this long I would have thought he was trying to interfere. But instead I know this is just his way of getting things straight in his head.
Eventually, I see him nodding his head, “I think this sounds great, Abs. I am so sorry, though. I didn’t realise you were so unhappy.”
“No, not unhappy, Taylor. Just not getting the same kind of fulfilment that I used to get when I first started doing my cakes for the bakery. Back then I was doing it all, coming up with new ideas and being at the centre of it all. But now I am really just the figurehead. Don’t get me wrong, I love owning Bread & Cake but now that I am less involved in the day-to-day, I don’t get the same sense of satisfaction. Do you know what I mean?” I ask quietly.
“I do, Abs. It’s the same when I first started up Hudson International. At first I did everything, went on all the sourcing trips myself. But then as the company grew, I ended up having to hand that kind of thing over to other people. Like you, I’m mostly there to sign off the significant decisions, which is why I like to get involved with some of the projects, like my South American chillies. I can totally understand why you want to do this so know that I support you one hundred percent,” Taylor says giving me a gentle squeeze.
“All I ask, though,” he continues. “Try not to take too much on all at once. I can hear the excitement in your voice and I bet you are raring to go. But just pace yourself, please? For me?”
“I will,” I promise solemnly, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.
The Thirtieth
We almost didn’t make it to the courtroom in time, sliding in at the last minute just as the judge was taking the bench. A series of delays which started with flat tires on both our cars, something that raised numerous suspicions that it was somehow engineered, but in the end was solved when Henry’s guys found smashed glass all over the car park from some drunken idiots who had used it as a cut-through. The next stop had been the train station but engineering works from the weekend had overrun and in the end we ended up getting a ride up to London in the surveillance van that normally is in charge of keeping us safe. The irony was not lost on me that if it all goes right today and Hannah is convicted and Richard goes to jail then we will no longer need this van or the team of people dogging our ever move.
I am sat rigid next to Taylor as we wait with anticipation as the lead juror stands up to deliver the verdict. I can’t help but look across at Hannah, who is sat with a look of apprehension on her face. Dark circles ring her eyes and she looks like she hasn’t slept for days, which she probably hasn’t. Her hair looks greasy, her face is pale and for the first time since the trial started she looks rumpled and unkempt.
The judge begins with the formality of asking if the jury has reached a verdict. A buzzing starts in my head and suddenly my vision tunnels and it is like I am looking at those twelve people from a great distance. I am struggling to hear the words. Instead, the thump of
my heart is pounding in my ears so I try and focus on the juror’s lips instead. “Ease up, Abs,” Taylor murmurs in my ear and when I glance down I can see that I am gripping his hand so tight my fingernails are digging in and raising red welts on his skin.
“Sorry,” I murmur loosening up my death-grip and shaking off his hand. The sweat is beading on my brow and I can feel Bean beginning to move, my anxiety having a direct effect on my baby. I turn my focus back to the lead juror and despite watching her lips moving I can’t seem to make out what she is saying. And then, at last, one word filters through…guilty.
I am so sure that I have misheard that I turn to Taylor and when I see the broad smile on his face I am momentarily confused. “We did it, Abs. She is going to jail. And not just some cushy mental facility either.”
“What do you mean?” I say, my voice barely above a whisper as I try to comprehend it all.
“The jury, they didn’t buy the temporary insanity stuff. The have found her guilty of attempted murder,” Taylor says softly as the judge begins talking about sentencing hearings and all sorts of things that I am currently ignoring because all I can focus on is that one word that is flashing like a neon sign in my head…GUILTY…GUILTY…GUILTY.
I turn my head and look across at Hannah and see the realisation sinking in. Despair is written all over her face as she begins to understand that she has been convicted of attempted murder and there is no way that Richard can help her, especially as he is currently locked away facing his own charges. I could almost feel sorry for her…almost.
Book Three: Thirty Days, Book 3 Page 15