by Ellen March
“I’ll never believe anything that comes out of your lying fucking mouth again. I never want to see your face again. Now get out,” he said quietly. The sudden drop in his tone was ominously threatening.
“Please, Roman,” she sobbed, trying to hold onto his arm as she stared up into his enraged face, pale with anger. Her eyes beseeched him to trust her, to believe, but she could see it was too late.
“I want you out of my house before I get back,” he snarled, shaking her from him. He grasped his car keys and stormed out.
Sally was sobbing and shaking. The tears flowed unchecked down her face, and her whole body trembled.
“I suggest you do as Roman says,” said Antonia with a victorious smile before she turned and left the room.
Sally pleaded with Paul, “Do you believe me?” Her voice quivered as she tried to stop the great gulps that racked her body.
“Yes, Sal, I do. But how did it get into print?” He went over to her and held her shaking body, letting her sob. He stroked her head soothingly as she leaned against his shoulder.
“I’m not a journalist. I used to be their clerk, but I’m not even with them anymore,” she snivelled. “I quit the day after the party for Tariq. I couldn’t do it to Roman.” She swiped her nose with the back of her sleeve.
“Well, someone has,” he said thoughtfully. “Where did you keep the info, Sal?”
“In the cupboard in my office.” She sniffed, trying to stem the tears. She felt physically ill and clutched her stomach. It roiled as if a great big hand twisted her intestines. She was only too aware that her brief grip on happiness had been firmly snatched from her.
“Was it locked?” Paul knew of only one person capable of doing this.
“No,” she wailed. “Why would I? I was going to shred it, but I forgot.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of it, trust me.” He patted her back comfortingly.
Sally shook her head. “No, Paul, it’s too late. You saw Roman. He’ll never forgive me. I’ll pack my bags now and leave.” The tears still trounced down her pale face and dripped off her quivering chin. “But, Paul, I don’t want you to see me go. I can’t stand goodbyes.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll really miss you. You’ve been a good friend.”
“Stay. Wait till Roman gets back. He’ll calm down,” Paul urged with a sniff, trying to stop his own tears. He held her by her hands. “Roman really loves you, Sal. Don’t go.”
Sally shook her head. A blanket of sadness and despair fell over her. “He could have trusted me. I would have if it was the other way around. But he obviously thinks I’m nothing but a liar.” She swiped at her tears. “He jumped at the first chance to rid himself of me, didn’t he?”
Paul dragged in a long sigh, wishing he could deny it. “Please, Sal, stay. Let’s sort it out.”
Sally shook her head. “It’s what he wants, and I’m not staying where I’m not wanted. I was a fool to hope that he’d love me.” She gripped him in a short hug and gave him another watery kiss on the cheek. “I should have known it wouldn’t last. There aren’t any happy endings in my life.” She turned and stumbled out of the kitchen.
Paul shook his head and wiped his eyes. He hadn’t cried for years, yet Sally had reduced him to tears. He was glad that Marilyn had switched her usual day off to today so she wasn’t there to witness his weak moment.
He sought the sanctuary of his greenhouse, his vision blurred with his tears. He wiped them angrily away.
* * *
Sally stood in her room, pausing, before pulling her own clothes out of the wardrobe and stuffing them into her battered holdall. Bright yellow once, it was now faded and scuffed from age and overuse. She stripped and left all the clothes that Roman had bought for her then changed into her own, complete with broken trainers. She wandered downstairs and put her bag out front before ringing a taxi.
She resembled a sleep walker. The tears had finally stopped but her heart was broken. She truly didn’t care whether she lived or died, but the latter was preferable to a life without Roman.
“What do you mean you can’t come for another hour?” Sally held the phone with a quivering hand. “Right, yeah, see you then.” She hung up, aware she couldn’t stand around waiting for it. That presented the distinct possibility of being ridiculed by Antonia, and she definitely didn’t want to bump into Roman.
After checking the time, she called the dogs and decided to have one last walk with them to pass the time. As she moved past the greenhouses, she noticed Paul stood with his back to her. She didn’t disturb him. She carried on past the stables and up onto the moors.
* * *
Roman drove fast and furious, attempting to swallow the pain he felt at Sally’s betrayal. It wasn’t the words that had been written. It was the deceit along with the act of treachery and the lies that he couldn’t cope with.
He wondered how many lies she’d spun for him. She was good, he had to admit. She’d wound him in and tied him in knots, pretending to be so innocent. Glancing at the street signs, he automatically headed for London. He needed to find out for himself just how much she’d had to do with the article. He could have phoned but he had to see the editor in the flesh. He wanted to gauge her reaction to see if she were lying. He pressed his foot down hard on the accelerator and sped along the motorway. His destination was the headquarters of Normandy.
The trip had taken just under two hours. He pulled up outside the large building in a scream of wheels and slammed the door shut. He stormed inside, past the startled security and up the escalator, taking the moving steps two at a time up to the top floor. Once he reached the office, he threw open the door to the editor’s room.
Norma spun round, staring in shock at Roman’s furious face. She wondered how the hell he’d gotten past her security and staff without so much as a phone call to alert her.
“Well. good morning. Or should I say afternoon.” She glanced down at her watch and saw it was just past twelve. “What can I do for you?” Seeing him in the flesh for the first time, she understood the appeal he held for women. He was absolutely stunning.
“I want the truth about this article.” He threw the magazine down in front of her. “If I don’t get it, I’ll sue you for all you’re worth, and trust me, this place will be shut down by the end of the week. Money does talk, and I have enough to make it talk very loudly.”
Norma swallowed, not doubting his words. She only had to look at his face to see he meant it. “What do you want to know?” she asked, making the immediate decision to accommodate him.
“Did Sally write this?”
“She wrote the information, but she’s no journalist, trust me.” Norma lit a cigarette. “In fact, she doesn’t even work for me anymore. She quit.”
“Why?” he snapped.
“Because she wouldn’t give me what I wanted. She’d gathered the information for the story but wouldn’t let me publish it.” Her long, varnished nail pointed to the magazine. “And then I had a call from some other woman. She didn’t want any money, only for me to put Sally’s name on the editorial.”
“So Sally didn’t have anything to do with this?” His gut told him it was Antonia, and he swore he’d see her fired. Roman felt a mixture of relief and disgust at himself that he hadn’t believed Sally. Then he remembered his parting words and knew Sally would have left by now.
“Nothing at all. She’s too much of a liability.”
“Where does she live?” Roman asked, determined to make it up to her and not let her walk out of his life. He recalled his damning words and actions and winced.
“Ask the girl at the desk on the way out. It’s not far from here, but somehow she still managed to arrive late every day,” said Norma, her words dripping sarcasm.
* * *
Roman pulled up outside the high rise building, the corners of his lips curling downward in distaste. He didn’t like to think of her living at such a place. Once inside, he checked the number on the piece of paper in his hand an
d stabbed the button in the elevator. When nothing happened, he realized the lift was broken and ran up the short flight of stairs to her flat. His fists hammered on the door, but he was met by silence.
“She’s not here,” said a voice behind him. “But if you push the door, just there, you’ll find it opens.”
Roman turned to see a woman who was as wide as she was tall, still wearing a nightdress and smoking a cigarette. “Thanks.” He pushed on the door and was surprised to see it swing open. Obviously security didn’t mean a lot to Sally.
He tried not to wince at the sight of the sparsely furnished, tiny space. Black specks of damp spots dappled the wallpaper. It peeled and curled. A sense of muskiness infused the area. It pushed into his senses, leaving a deep need for fresh air. The carpet, once a vibrant shade of blue, was now muted and threadbare. It matched the remaining tattered décor. Nausea rolled over him. To think this was what she called home! He was not surprised she didn’t bother to lock her door. There was nothing worth taking.
He also noticed the room was bereft of photos or any personal items. Anyone walking around this place wouldn’t have a clue about the person living here, he thought with a wave of melancholy.
After pulling out his mobile, he quickly dialled and waited impatiently for Paul to answer.
“Roman,” Paul said quietly, still choked up by Sally’s departure. “Yes, she’s gone. No, I don’t know when or where. Yeah, okay.”
Roman sat down on the battered settee and waited. Four hours later he had to admit she wasn’t coming home. It wouldn’t have taken that long to get here, even for Sally. With one final glance around the depressing flat, he reluctantly closed the door behind him and headed for home.
* * *
Paul’s head rose at the sound of Roman’s car. Antonia sat filing her nails when he strode in. He was angry and frustrated.
“Where have you been?” asked Paul testily, still feeling emotional over Sally’s departure.
“Waiting for Sally. Do you have any idea where else she might have gone?” he asked, brushing a hand through his hair. “Did she give any clue, say anything?”
“No, she didn’t say anything, wouldn’t even let me see her off.” Paul shot him a glare. “Said she didn’t like goodbyes.”
“Shit!” he swore, then his glance alit on Antonia. “And you, what have you got to do with this?” He moved slowly towards her, his whole demeanour threatening.
“What do you mean?” Her hand flew up to clutch her throat, the large diamond ring she always wore glinting in the light.
“You know damn well what I mean. I’ve spoken to the publisher of Normandy and it all points to you as the culprit,” he said quietly. For the first time he actually saw her as she was, and he didn’t like what he saw.
“Prove it!” she said, then realized her words automatically condemned her.
“There’s no need. Get out. You’re fired,” he spat. “I just didn’t realize what a vicious cow you were.”
Antonia stood up, her eyes blazing. “And why shouldn’t I be mad? She comes in here and straight away she’s all over you, the slut!”
Roman raised his hand and dropped it, realizing he’d been about to hit her. “Get out!”
He stormed into the lounge. Pouring a large whisky, he threw the contents down his throat, welcoming the burning sensation and heat that coursed through his veins.
He watched as Antonia’s car spun around and disappeared through the gates, unable to believe the vileness that was the essence of her soul. He felt crushing guilt and another, less tangible emotion for the way he’d treated Sally.
He was scared she’d had enough of his temper and wouldn’t listen to him, but he wouldn’t give up, no matter what she said. When he found her, and he would, she wouldn’t be leaving him again.
Paul wandered in and helped himself to a drink. “So you’ve screwed up big style this time,” he said without rancour or sympathy. He’d seen her tears and the way Roman’s words had destroyed her, ripping her soul to shreds, and for once in his life he hoped Roman suffered.
“Shut the fuck up, Paul. Don’t you think I feel bad enough already?” He poured yet another drink and knocked it back, then looked around, almost expecting to see Sally somewhere. He listened for her voice, but there was nothing except the empty silence of the house. He realized how much he missed her, only too aware he couldn’t live without her. He was desperate to find her and explain.
“Do you think she’ll forgive you?” asked Paul, voicing his thoughts. “Because she was in one hell of a state after you left.” He dug the knife in, wanting Roman to feel her pain. Tears threatened him once again, and his voice had a catch in it as he added, “You know, she reminded me of a child. She just couldn’t understand what she’d done wrong. She loved you so very much, had given you everything you asked and then some more. And you couldn’t even trust her. You turned on her at the first opportunity.” He saluted him with a glass of wine. “Must make you really proud.”
The glass Roman held snapped in his hand, but he didn’t reply. He knew that Paul spoke the truth. Instead he looked out the window at the darkening clouds and the drizzle of rain that slapped against the window pane. A wind suddenly whipped up, and a deluge of heavy drops followed.
He stared down into his cracked, empty glass. “I’ll leave for London again first thing in the morning. I’ve been to her flat so I know where she lives.” He went to grab a new drink. “I’ll fetch her back. She’s got to listen to me; she’s got to believe me!” His voice quivered with emotion.
Paul scrubbed a hand over his eyes, not knowing what to say. He’d never seen Roman so emotionally raw and hoped there would be a happy outcome.
A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance and a flash of lightning lit up the yard. Roman glanced at the empty kennels gleaming wetly as a torrent of rain lashed down and bounced on the concrete run. He shrugged his shoulders.
The missing dogs were the least of his worries. They were probably after some sheepdog bitch in season or hunting, he thought. Then he slumped into a chair and stared morosely out into the dark, wet night.
Roman nursed his glass of whisky and his wretched thoughts, his mind going over and over the way he’d spoken to Sally. He just prayed she’d forgive him.
* * *
Sally drank in the view from the hill she’d climbed, panting heavily. Walking on the flat pavements of London didn’t compare to this, but it felt good. Her lungs burned as she inhaled the fresh air with great big gasps. The dogs trotted alongside her as she continued her ascent. Then she glanced down at her watch and realized she’d miss her taxi if she didn’t get a move on.
She was determined to be away before Roman returned, knowing she couldn’t face seeing him again. The hatred and disgust she’d read in his face ate into her.
Sally made a sudden turn and felt her ankle collapse in a twist of pain. She must have stepped into a small hole, she thought as she fell. It seemed that everything was happening in slow motion. Her body was rolling down the hill over sharp stones, picking up speed. She couldn’t stop herself. Then pain exploded in her head as she hit a boulder and darkness descended.
Her body lay sprawled at the bottom of the hill and blood trickled from her wound. She lay unconscious, oblivious to the changing weather and the ensuing veil of rain.
The two shepherds whined and barked, pawing at her. They licked her pale cold face then settled in on either side of her, their heads resting on her body as the first sweep of rain swept the valley.
* * *
Paul walked into the kitchen and saw Roman sitting hunched at the breakfast bar, sipping from a cup of strong, black coffee. He was still wearing his clothes from the night before, and Paul knew he’d been up all night.
“You’ll be no good to her at this rate,” he observed, taking in his haggard appearance.
Roman shook his head. “I couldn’t sleep. I’ve got to explain to her.” He scraped a ragged hand through his hair. “But what if s
he won’t listen, Paul?” For the first time in his life he was afraid.
“I don’t know what to say, but if she loves you as much as I think she does, she’ll forgive you.” He glanced up in surprise at the arrival of Marilyn on the monitor.
“What’s she doing here today?” Roman asked as he rummaged for his car keys. He wanted to leave as soon as he could.
“Changed shifts,” Paul replied distractedly, eying the grey clouds that loomed overhead. “Looks like we’re going to have a shit day after an even worse night.” He’d listened to the rain lashing against the windows, hitting the panes and trickling down. He was unwilling to tell Roman that he hadn’t slept either.
Marilyn walked in with her usual smile on her face, carrying a bag. It was a holdall faded yellow and edged with a stain of black and gray splodges. The zip across it was strained to the bursting point. “Morning.” She dumped it unceremoniously on the worktop. “Don’t know whose this is, but I found it out on the front porch.” She bustled to the large range. “What a storm that was last night! The heavens opened, all right. It was horrendous.”
Paul froze and Roman’s face went white.
“It’s Sally’s,” Roman whispered. He dropped his mug and raced out of the house to check the kennels, which he knew would be empty. Paul followed close behind. He couldn’t breathe, he was shaking so much. Sally was in trouble.
Then he thought of the storm last night and knew with a certainty that she’d been out in it. “Paul, she must still be here. She must be outside somewhere!”
They passed through the kitchen, intent on going out into the backyard to look for her.
Marilyn looked on in confusion. “What was Sally’s holdall doing outside?” She tied on her apron.
“I’ll explain later,” said Paul, his expression grim. “Right now we have to go look for her. We think she was out in that storm last night.”
Roman paused outside the kitchen door. “I just hope to Christ she’s not hurt.” His voice broke as he rubbed his forehead.
Paul swallowed and voiced his thoughts. “If she was lying in that storm last night and still hasn’t returned,” he placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Roman, I really don’t know what you’ll find,” he finished, choking on his words.