Still Life (Still Life Series Book 1)

by Isobel Hart

  “It was an accident,” she tried again. “He didn’t mean to do it.”

  “What the fuck were you thinking, getting a child to carry a tray containing a cup of boiling hot liquid?”

  “He wanted to be a big boy. I thought he’d be okay with the tray.”

  The coffee shop staff rushed over at the commotion, in time to witness Edward pulling the soaking shirt away from his scalded skin and slipping it off over his head. A couple of them started to dab at him again with paper napkins.

  “Well, clearly he wasn’t fucking capable,” Edward seethed, as the kid sobbed, devastated, the coffee shop staff still dabbing.

  The skin on his back looked red, from where the hot liquid had scalded him, but there were no blisters. I reached out and placed my hand on his arm, hoping to take his anger down a notch. “Edward, calm down a bit.”

  “Calm down?” He turned towards me, outraged. I cringed, feeling the full force of his ire.

  “Edward!” Richard said. His tone of voice unexpectedly assertive for someone wearing corduroy.

  Edward flinched and appeared to shake himself. He took a step back, apologising for being so angry, as the woman gratefully led the still-weeping child from the shop and ushered him into a car outside.

  Whilst I reeled with emotional whiplash, Edward pulled on a spare t-shirt one of the staff had found to replace his own sodden one which lay forgotten over the back of a chair, then sat down and continued to drink his coffee as if nothing had happened. He thanked the staff effusively when they brought over a complimentary round of drinks. Within minutes, it was as if nothing had happened. It took me a while longer to settle.

  “You look tired,” Edward leaned over to whisper. We’d been there for more than an hour. I rubbed my leg, the recently mended bone protesting at my earlier activity. “Shall we go?”

  I nodded, more than ready.

  “I’ll call you,” Edward promised Richard as he helped me into my jacket, reaching down to take a hold of my hand, the pad of his thumb brushing gently over the top of my knuckles. I looked down at it, and then up at him. He smiled. “Ready?”

  I nodded, unable to speak, berating myself as I fell a little more for his charms. You can’t trust him, my subconscious admonished me, even as I let him lead me out the café and back towards the apartment.

  I needed distance. I needed time to get my head together, to remind myself why we’d broken up all those weeks ago. “I’ll pop in here and get something for dinner,” I told him, pulling my hand away from his as I stopped outside the entrance to the local supermarket. “You go on back. I’ll be right behind you.” He’d always contended that I was ‘cooking and cleaning’, whilst he looked after ‘gardening and maintenance’. The fact we didn’t have a garden and he didn’t own a toolbox, just knew the number of a man who would happily do all his odd jobs for a fee, never struck him as a problem.

  “Sam, you’re tired. You need to put that foot up or it’ll swell. You heard what the doctor said. Come home with me. We can do an online order later, I’ll get us a takeaway if we’re hungry. You’ve done enough for one day. Come on, let’s watch a film and just chill.” Astonished, and feeling oddly emotional, I let him wrap an arm around my shoulders and pull me against him.

  Inside, he settled me on the sofa with my leg up, before retreating to the kitchen to make us both a cup of tea. “What do you want to watch?” he asked.

  I shrugged.

  “I know.” He grinned, disappearing for a few minutes and returning with my copy of Gladiator. It was one of my all-time favourites. He settled in beside me on the sofa, turning my body so that I leant against him, my head on his chest, his arm draped easily across me.

  We’d only reached a quarter of the way through the film when his fingers brushed my thigh, light at first, the whisper of a touch that made me wonder if I’d imagined it, until I felt it a second time. Then a third, as he started to stroke me, his hand drifting higher. As the pressure increased I turned to look at him. He met my gaze, eyes dropping to my lips a second before he kissed me. The kiss escalated quickly, until we were pulling at one another’s clothes. I didn’t know who had started it, only that I needed access to skin. Within minutes, we were naked. “Condom,” I gasped.

  “Next time,” he promised.

  “No,” I groaned, even as my body opened for him. “I don’t want to have a baby. Not yet, anyway. Get a condom.”

  “Sssh, baby, it feels so much better like this.”

  My body moved in response, betraying my brain again. “Pull out before you come,” I gasped. It felt so good. It was hard to remember to be angry with him. The element of risk made it sexier somehow.

  As my body contracted around him, his own groan penetrated my bliss. He shuddered and released, making no effort whatsoever to pull out.

  “Fuck! You didn’t pull out.”

  “God, nothing has ever felt this good.” He sounded happy.

  “I asked you not to. I don’t want a baby right now.” I pulled away, annoyed with myself as much as him. I prayed the pills I’d taken would work against this episode too.

  “Well, I do,” he said, matter-of-factly.

  “You hate children! Why on earth would you want one now?” I said, confused by his turnaround on the subject.

  “A man can change his mind. Nearly dying will do that to you.”

  “We have plenty of time – there’s no rush.”

  “Life’s short. We need to make the most of it, so why wait?”

  “Because I’m not ready.”

  “You’ll love it when it arrives. You’ll be a great mother.”

  “I’m not ready for that yet. I’m not even ready to commit to you long term, let alone have a child. You might have done a life one eighty, but that doesn’t mean I have. I don’t know for sure that we even have a future together. Only a few weeks ago I was certain that we didn’t. Anyway,” I continued, getting into my groove now, “that wasn’t exactly an audition for Father of the Year back at the coffee shop earlier. That kid nearly wet himself, he was so terrified of you. Don’t push me on this. I want you to use a condom from now on.”

  “No,” he said, his face set with a stubborn expression I knew only too well meant he wouldn’t be moved on the subject.

  “Then no more sex,” I countered, being equally stubborn.

  He grinned at that. “We’ll see.” He looked smug.

  That pissed me off. By the expression on his face, he assumed I’d be gagging for it soon enough. I determined to get straight back down to the doctor’s and onto a longer-term contraceptive solution, now it seemed I could no longer trust him to wear a condom. That would put a stop to the silliness.

  Chapter 7

  Edward veered from cajoling one minute to angry the next, and back again, several times. Relentless, he tried everything to woo me back into the sack; flattering my appearance, touching me at any opportunity – sometimes highly inappropriately. He didn’t want to take no for an answer. I stood my ground.

  When he was being nice I almost felt tempted. The sex had been good – I missed it. But, more often than not, my refusal made him angry with me. Then, I found myself a little afraid of him. Edward had always been moody, but I’d never known him to be quite so emotionally volatile.

  A week later, I was on the pill. I had woken to light bleeding, which meant I could start using them immediately. I stashed the packet I was taking deep in my handbag and was in the process of secreting the other two packets in the back of the bathroom cabinet, inside an old wash bag we never used, when Edward walked in. “What are you doing?”

  Flustered, I knocked over a can of shaving foam. “Looking for these,” I said, pulling out a packet of tampons.

  “You got your period? Are you sure?”

  I laughed, unable to meet his eyes. “I think I know when I get my period.” My flippant remark didn’t help matters.

  “You’re so fucking selfish. It’s always about you, and what you want. What about me? How abou
t giving a shit about my feelings for once?” He towered over me, jabbing his finger into my chest, making me cringe away from him. “Fuck this!” He stormed out the bathroom. I heard him pick up his keys from the bowl in the hall, before the apartment door slammed closed, sending a tremor through the building that rattled the windows.

  “I’m sorry baby,” he said, breezing in through the door later as if nothing had happened. “We’ll be luckier next time.”

  I nodded, a pleasant smile fixed on my face, relieved he seemed calmer. His earlier rage had frightened me.

  He bent and kissed me gently.

  I didn’t miss the waft of a floral fragrance I didn’t recognise, wondering where he’d been for the last four hours – or who he’d been with.

  “Do you need a hot water bottle for the cramps?”

  I forced a smile, and nodded again, my mind whirling when he left me to fill the kettle. One thing had become clear; there was no way I wanted a baby with him right now. Great sex did not provide reason enough, despite the generally positive change overall in our relationship. I still didn’t trust him.

  ***

  I stared down at Edward’s unmoving form, burrowed beneath the duvet. He looked out for the count. Rather than disturb him, I scribbled a quick note, letting him know I’d gone out for a coffee, and propped it on the table so he’d see it when he woke. On a whim, enjoying the warmer weather, I walked a little further instead of going to the Costa, snapping photos on my Nikon D850 as I went.

  I ordered a skinny latte then flopped into an armchair to read the paper someone had left behind on the chair. As expected, the news continued to be full of reports about the unknown retrovirus particles they’d found within the fog’s residue:

  Scientists have confirmed the new virus is a viral vector; a carrying mechanism that can deliver viral genetic material straight into human cells. To date, infection rates suggest any men exposed to the fog have tested positive for traces of the virus.

  Despite high levels of public alarm, The World Health Organisation have reiterated there has been no evidence to date of any immune response to the virus. Tests have shown the material as dormant within their human host cells. Officials have dismissed claims the virus is cytocidal or infectious as ‘scaremongering’.

  Several pharmaceutical companies have filed patents for the viral material, which it is hoped may offer new options for treatments against cancer—

  I put the paper down, depressed. I was due back at work soon. The article provided a timely reminder of why I hated my job – making profit out of ill health had always made me uncomfortable, however laudable the treatment being sold. Unfortunately, I needed to work, because having no income made me even more uncomfortable. I’d allowed money to trump my morals.

  I sighed and pulled out my phone, texting Heidi my location in the vague hope she might be free to come and join me. We’d failed to meet up since Edward had come out of hospital. He’d demanded all my time and attention, his needy behaviour leaving little of anything for anyone else. Twenty minutes later, she walked through the door of the café with a big grin on her face, wearing stylishly old jeans and a jumper with designer holes in it. “Look at you,” she said as she sat down. “Beautiful as ever. Have you left fuckwit yet?”

  “No, but I’m getting close.”

  “What’s stopping you? I thought he’d fucked one too many other women, even for you.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s changed.”

  She raised a single eyebrow.

  “Really, he has. Since the accident. He’s like a different bloke. Edward Mark II – the new, improved version.”

  “Whatever. I’ve heard it all before – the last few times you suspected he’d slept with other women. He’s just turning on the charm again, trying to hold on to you, using whatever manipulative means he can. Who can blame him? You’re gorgeous.”

  “This time he really seems different. He wants to have a baby.” This was a sore subject for Heidi, who’d been trying to get pregnant since she and Paul had married eighteen months ago, with no success.

  “Fucking hell. He’s barely able to wipe his own arse, and now he wants to inflict himself on another human being.” She snorted, then rocked backwards in her chair when she saw my face. “Don’t tell me you’re actually considering it?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “I thought about it for maybe a nanosecond.” She started to react, so I continued: “No, honestly, he really has been at his most charming recently – most of the time – and the sex has been amazing. But then I remembered how bad it was before.” I paused. “Seriously, though, you’d hardly recognise the guy. He’s different. I can’t tell if it was the blow to his head in the accident or just knowing that he nearly died, but he’s like a completely different guy. Sadly, I fear he’s just replaced a load of fucking annoying habits with a whole new set of different but equally annoying ones.”

  “I need to see this ‘new Edward’. When are you free?” Heidi grinned. I laughed, but the idea of getting some of the old gang together appealed. Friday nights in the pub, with whoever could make it, drowning work woes in excessive amounts of alcohol had been our thing. It would be nice to do something normal again.

  An hour later, having made plans to meet, I was happy and relaxed, feeling far more myself. “Text me and let me know how work goes,” she said, hugging me tight.

  Stepping out of the coffee shop, I felt lighter than I had in weeks. It was warm enough to take my coat off for the walk home. The sun heated my skin, signposting summer just around the corner. I’d always been a sunshine girl; it worked wonders on my mood.

  Happy, I pulled out my camera and snapped some more pictures in the park – people were out in force, making the most of a rare sunny weekend – and then, content I’d got some good shots, I meandered my way back to the apartment, in no hurry to get home.

  I’d barely put my key in the lock when the door swung open. “Where the fuck have you been?” Edward growled as he pushed me against the wall and pinned me there with his body.

  “What the hell?” I laughed, assuming he was joking, confused by his aggressive greeting.

  “I asked where the fuck have you been? You’ve been gone all morning, and you weren’t in the Costa like you said. So, where the hell were you?”

  “I never said I was going to the Costa. I said I was going for a coffee. I went to the French café. I met Heidi there. Then I walked home and stopped to take some photos in the park. Not that it has anything to do with you.” I tried, unsuccessfully, to push him away from me.

  “Wrong. It has everything to do with me. We’re a couple. I look after what’s mine.”

  “No, you’re wrong. What’s with the caveman impression? We might be a couple, but that doesn’t make you my keeper. Last time I checked, I was a free woman, allowed to go where I want, when I want. So back the fuck up, or we won’t even be a couple.”

  He ignored me; “Are you still bleeding?”

  “No,” I said, bemused by the sudden change in conversational direction. The bleeding had stopped this morning, having been briefer than normal because of the pill. Without a word, he swept me into his arms and carried me into the bedroom. “Put me down,” I protested as soon as I realised what his intentions were. “I’m not in the mood.”

  “I’ll get you in the mood,” he promised, as he placed me on the bed and started to undress me, ignoring my protestations. When the buttons on my shirt didn’t release quickly enough, he pulled it apart, sending them flying towards the corners of the room.

  “Fucking hell, Edward!” I yelled, irritated by his destruction of a favourite item. He silenced me with a kiss as he pushed my skirt up and fumbled with his jeans, trying to release himself.

  I pulled away. “No! Stop!”

  He froze, my words at last penetrating his lust.

  I pushed him off me and slid from the bed, pulling down my skirt as I grabbed a clean t-shirt, and headed into the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind me.

&
nbsp; “Sam,” Edward called from the other side of the door. “Are you okay?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I’m sorry, I was mad. I didn’t think.”

  I opened the bathroom door, wrapped in a towel, the shower steaming behind me. “That was not okay. Being mad does not excuse you. I hadn’t done anything wrong.”

  “I know, I know. I just see red where you’re concerned. You’re so fucking beautiful, whenever you’re not with me I imagine other guys wanting to take you from me. I mean, why wouldn’t they, given half a chance?”

  “Well, I guess it’s true ‘cheaters think everyone cheats’. You shouldn’t judge me by your own low standards.” My shallowest-self took some pleasure in seeing him struggle with his insecurities. It made a change for the shoe being to be on the other foot for once.

  He stepped towards me, eyes darkening as they ran over me, his body stiffening in response. He walked me backwards towards the shower. “Don’t ever try and force yourself on me again. No means no. If you do, I’ll leave.”

  “I won’t. I promise. I just . . . want you so much.” He looked at me as if I were the most beautiful woman on earth.

  Hell, I could enjoy the sex, couldn’t I? It didn’t need to be more than that. As for the condom issue, the pills would cover me there. I could let him believe he was getting his way, that we were trying for a baby. He dropped to his knees in front of me, and my resolve wavered. He kissed me, and I melted. Fuck it, I decided, resistance was futile.

  Chapter 8

  Work was as shit as I remembered it to be. In fact, it was worse. I spent long days trying to see clinicians, who frankly couldn’t care less about what I had to say, even when they did give me some time to talk to them about our products. Given what I knew from firsthand experience they did for patients, I felt bad about taking up their time. When I wasn’t stalking doctors in hospital corridors, I sat in interminable internal meetings discussing strategies to see the same doctors who still wouldn’t want to see me.

  Then there was my manager. The man was an arse.