Nat raised his voice for the first time. “If that were true, you wouldn’t be here begging me back.”
“Of course I would. That was exactly where you wanted me – so broken that I need you and only you.” Katrina turned to Willow again. “Did he tell you that you look like a family heirloom? The mysterious brunette with the big, soulful eyes?”
Stab.
Nat’s eyes caught fire. “If you don’t leave now, I shall call the police and recommend that they put you in a psychiatric unit, where you belong.”
Katrina spat in Nat’s face.
Nat wiped his face, glaring. Then replied, triumphantly, “Apparently I have you just where I want you, yet I haven’t managed to compel you not to spit at me.”
Katrina turned back to Willow. “By the time you want to leave him, you’ll have nowhere to go.”
Nat withdrew his phone from his pocket. “I’m calling the police.”
“We both know you won’t do that.”
Nat wrapped an arm around Willow trying to guide her into his flat. Willow did not move, her face contorted by betrayal. “The girl in the painting was just a line?”
“Not at all, I’ve spent my life searching for the girl in the painting.” He put his hands on her shoulders and faced her. “Listen, I will explain later, but you need to go and wait in my flat where it’s safe.”
Katrina snorted.
“Miss Cassidy, please!”
Willow reluctantly took a few steps into Nat’s flat but hovered in the hallway, watching and listening.
“Willow, please,” begged Katrina. “We can help each other.”
Nat moved so that he was blocking the doorway to his flat and thus Willow’s view.
“Let me talk to Willow, you nasty bully.”
Nat stepped inside.
“I won’t just walk away from this, you know …”
Nat slammed the door.
Katrina shouted at him through it several times, but having been met with no response, yelled, “You’re a lying heap of shit. Do you know that? Do you?”
Nat stood with his back leaning against the door and closed his eyes. Eventually, he opened them. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”
Willow didn’t know what to say.
“She’s schizophrenic. I tried to help her, but whereas you can lead a horse to water …”
“You told her that she looked like the woman in the painting.”
Nat look a deep, irritated breath. “I don’t see why that matters.”
“Of course it matters! I thought you were sincere and it turns out it was just a line.”
“Do you have a favourite actor?”
“What? I don’t know.”
“Brad Pitt?”
“Not really.”
“Ryan Gosling?”
“Where are you going with this?”
“Supposing you liked Ryan Gosling, and you met a man who looked a bit like Ryan Gosling, would you be drawn to him?”
“I suppose so, but I don’t like Ryan Gosling.”
“You might say he looked like the man of your dreams.”
“If I liked Ryan Gosling I might …”
“And supposing it didn’t work out, but a while later you met the real Ryan Gosling. Would it be wrong to tell him he looked like the man of your dreams, even though you’d accidentally said it to somebody else?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m trying to tell you that you’re the girl of my dreams, Miss Cassidy.”
It was hard not to be moved. Nat was visibly shaking – clearly much more upset than a person who had simply used a pickup line – so Willow rested a reassuring hand on his arm. He placed his hand over hers and held it firmly, stroking her fingers with his.
“I’m so sorry that you had to see Katrina when she was like that. I would have warned you about her, but I thought she had given up.”
“She has been like this before?”
“Yes, the last month that I was in London, she was terrible. I worried for your life.”
Something clicked in Willow’s mind. “That’s why you didn’t contact me?”
“Exactly. I was worried what Katrina might do if she found out about you.”
He stroked Willow’s forearms. She tilted her face towards his. They didn’t kiss at first, just enjoyed feeling each other’s breath on their faces.
Willow felt relieved. Finally his disappearance made sense. It hadn’t been because he didn’t care, it had been because he did.
Eventually, their lips found each other’s and they began to kiss. Willow started to smile, causing their kisses to fall out of kilter. For the first time, she felt they were finally starting to make love.
Morning of Friday 19 th June – inside a house on Mayfield Road
“Sam Rowe’s back in town,” said Ross, pulling on his jeans.
“As in your ex, Sam Rowe?” replied Demi, checking that she had everything she needed for work.
“Yep. Would you like to meet her? She suggested a drink tonight.”
“Ah, no. You go. I fancy snuggling up with my duvet and a cheesy film when I get home.”
“I could come over if you’re still feeling rough.”
“It’s just a cold. You go out. And make sure you collect some new nutty Sam stories.”
“I think you two would get along. She’s a hoot.”
Demi smiled. She found it reassuring that Ross was still friends with his exes. It suggested that he’d treated them well. Nevertheless, Demi wasn’t feeling secure enough to want meet his most significant ex when she wasn’t on top form. Nothing said ‘It’s all been downhill since you’ like a bright red nose, sinusitis and an inability to pronounce any sounds that required clear nostrils.
Demi wondered if Willow would be about. Her sister loved the occasional cheesy film night as much as she did, but she always seemed to be at Nat’s these days.
Afternoon of Sunday 21 st June – inside a house on Mayfield Road
Demi thought she heard the postman, but remembered it was Sunday – bumph no doubt, perhaps another collection of adverts masquerading as a local newsletter. She wouldn’t get up especially, but perhaps she’d swing past the front door during her next trip to the kitchen.
However, Willow had got to the doormat first, arriving home from wherever she’d spent the night – Nat’s, presumably. Demi wondered when she’d get to see the incredible sea view that her sister raved about.
Willow mooched into the living room and passed Demi an A4 white envelope. Demi was surprised to note that it was addressed to her. “Good night?” she asked Willow, whilst tearing her way into the envelope.
“The best,” replied Willow. Although she was beaming, her lip quivered a little.
“Is everything all right?”
“I think so.”
Demi put down the envelope and raised her eyebrows.
Willow took a deep breath. “You and Ross have lots of sex, don’t you?”
Demi couldn’t help but smile. “A bit.”
“And is it always the same?”
“Why? Don’t tell me you’re bored already.”
“Not bored, no. Kind of the opposite.”
“I’m listening.”
“Have you ever had a boyfriend who wanted to … you know … who was a bit … kinky?”
Demi smiled. “Define kinky?”
“You know, like wanted to be in charge … in ways that use … stuff.”
“Like what?”
“Well …” Willow blushed. “Handcuffs, for example.”
Demi tried not to laugh but couldn’t help it. Handcuffs? Was that all? Then she remembered when sex had been new to her; even turning the light on had felt kinky. “I love handcuffs.”
Willow smiled. “It’s not something to worry about, is it?”
“Not at all.”
“What if he wanted that kind of thing a lot of the time?”
“Depends what you want. Do you like it?”
&nb
sp; “I think …” Willow paused. “… I kind of do. I think … I don’t know. Not always. It’s hard to tell. There’s so much happening and it’s all so new.”
Demi smiled. “There’s no harm in experimenting. It takes time to work out what you like, what you don’t like, etc. Let yourself have some fun.”
Willow smiled. “I should, shouldn’t I?”
Demi nodded and smiled back.
She picked up the envelope again and pulled out the contents.
Fuck.
She shoved the photographs back into the envelope. She blinked a few times. “Why would anybody want me to see that?”
“What is it?”
Demi tried to forget, tried to get the image out of her head. Describing it was the last thing she wanted to do – that would only consolidate the memory.
“Are you okay?”
Demi nodded at the envelope.
“Should I look?”
She nodded again.
“Will it upset me?”
“Not as much as it’s upset me.”
Willow took the envelope and pulled out the contents. “Fuck!”
“Literally.”
Demi could see Willow turning through other photos in the envelope. Demi knew there were at least three but she couldn’t look at the others. Having the first image in her mind was more than enough.
“Who is she?” asked Willow.
“I think it’s Sam Rowe. I remember Ross describing her pixie hairstyle.”
“They might not be recent.”
“Of course they’re not recent! That doesn’t mean I want to look at them, though. Obviously I accept that there have been other women, but that doesn’t mean I want to see photographs of them in action.”
Willow put the photographs back in the envelope.
“Were the others the same girl?” asked Demi, tentatively.
“Yes.”
“Was there anything I need to see?”
“No. They were more or less the same. Different positions, but …”
“Naaaa!” Demi tried to block it out of her mind.
“Where is Ross?” asked Willow. It was a reasonable enough question; he was usually over on a Sunday afternoon.
“Not sure. I haven’t seen him since Friday.”
“When he went for a drink with Sam?”
“I know what you’re thinking,” said Demi. “And he didn’t. He wouldn’t.”
Willow frowned and Demi saw the doubt.
“He didn’t!” Her lower lip began to quiver.
Willow put her arm around her. “I’m sorry.”
“He didn’t do it.”
“Why are you crying then?”
“Because somebody hates me! Somebody hates me enough to send me these pictures. Nobody wants to see photos of their boyfriend with an ex. Why would somebody want to hurt me like this?”
“I have no idea.” Willow was quiet for a few moments, then she picked up the envelope again and withdrew the pictures.
“What are you doing? Don’t look at them again.”
“Look,” said Willow, placing one on Demi’s lap.
“I don’t want to!”
Willow placed a hand over the centre of the picture and pointed to a line across the top right corner. “That.”
“What about it?”
“It looks like a cracked lens.”
Demi shrugged.
“Ross used to have a camera with a cracked lens, but he doesn’t now.”
Demi felt a rush of relief. Whilst her rational brain had told her that Ross hadn’t cheated, her frightened, self-defeating, nasty brain had had its doubts. Demi dared to add, “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I remember him telling me. He kept the camera for ages after it was cracked, but eventually threw it away.”
The doorbell rang. Demi didn’t feel composed enough to go to the door, so was relieved when Willow stepped up. She wanted it to be Ross, but knew he had a key.
“Oh, hey!” cried Willow, with the level of delight reserved for lovers.
Eventually, Willow led Nat into the living room. Demi grabbed the envelope and stashed it behind the sofa.
“Hey, Nat. This is an unexpected surprise,” said Demi, summoning a friendly smile.
“I was passing – thought I’d surprise Willow.”
Willow beamed.
Demi’s smile rapidly dissolved as a thoughts began to trouble her. Nat had never been in their house while she was here, yet he’d dropped by just after a disturbing envelope of photos of his so-called friend had been delivered. She eyed him suspiciously.
“No Ross?” asked Nat.
“Nope.”
“We haven’t seen him since Friday,” added Willow.
“Really?” Nat turned to Demi. “I suppose he must be busy now that Sam’s back in town.” He looked at Demi with the slightest curl in the corner of his mouth.
At that moment, Demi knew that Nat had sent the photos. She decided not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
“Nat, can you think of anybody who would want to hurt Ross?” asked Willow. “It’s just that somebody sent Demi a very upsetting set of pictures.”
“Photos of what?” asked Nat.
“She never said they were photos,” Demi pointed out.
“That’s what you meant though, Willow?”
“Yes.”
“We’re so in sync.”
Demi rolled her eyes. She grabbed the envelope from behind the sofa, not because she wanted to see its contents ever again but because she didn’t want Ross to find them before she had had a proper chance to talk to him about it. “I’m going up to my room.” With that, she left the living room.
Nat turned to Willow looking furious.
“What’s the matter?”
“She practically accused me of sending the photos.”
“When?”
“‘She never said they were photos,’” mimicked Nat.
“I’m sure she didn’t mean …”
Nat strode to the bay window and looked out. “Do you know what I think?” he asked. Then he turned back into the room. “I think she sent them to herself to try to frame me.”
Willow laughed. “What?”
“To break us up. She’s always been jealous of you and me. Just between us, I think she wanted me for herself when you and I met at that hotel.”
Willow knew how excitedly Demi had waited for Nat to arrive. But they’d moved on since then.
“You know I only invited her along as a friend, but I’ve always sensed a bit of tension there.”
“She’s happy with Ross.”
“Is she?”
“She wouldn’t have sent photos like that to herself. You should have seen her face when she opened them. And how would she have even got hold of them?”
Nat paused, then added, “You’re right. She wouldn’t do something like that. I’m being paranoid.”
Afternoon of Sunday 21 st June – inside a house off Woodlane
Demi greeted Ross by kissing his big, goofy, loveable face.
“Steady on!” he laughed, pretending to wobble on his feet.
“Just pleased to see you.”
“I can see that! I got your text. Why the sudden rush?”
“How was Sam?” she blurted out, despite having promised herself she would approach the subject gently.
“She’s bought a used car dealership in the south of France,” he replied, chuckling.
They walked into the kitchen. Demi took a stool while Ross boiled the kettle.
“Tea? Coffee? Something stronger?” offered Ross.
“A used car dealership? Not a villa or a vineyard?”
“That’s Sam all over,” he said with amused admiration.
“Ross, today somebody posted me photos from your relationship with Sam – sex photos.”
Ross stopped making the tea and stared at Demi. “What?”
“She was wearing blue lingerie. Ring any bells?”
“Blast from th
e past! I didn’t think there were any copies left. I’ve had at least two new computers since then.”
Demi felt relieved to hear that he hadn’t taken backups, but this did nothing to ease her agitation. “These weren’t files. They were printouts, posted through the door.”
“Well, I certainly never printed them!”
“What about Sam? Did she have copies?”
“I honestly cannot remember. I’d forgotten all about them. I bet she’s forgotten too.” Ross grimaced. “God, why would somebody send them to you?”
Demi was silent for a few moments before revealing her suspicions. “I think it was Nat.”
“Nat? Why would Nat do something like that?”
“Why would anybody?”
“And how would he have got hold of the photos?”
“I don’t know. But he does know Sam, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah, they’re mates, but …” Ross trailed off.
“What?”
“I feel bad even thinking this, but if I didn’t give anybody the files, then by a process of elimination it had to be Sam.”
“Why would Sam want to break us up?”
“I don’t think she would.”
“You saw her on Friday. What was she like? Did it seem like she was still interested?”
“Not at all. She was talking about her new ‘insatiable’ lover, Ethan. She joked about me being her best man.”
“Insatiable? Could she have been trying to make you jealous?”
“No. It’s just that she has no internal censor. Whatever’s in her head falls out of her mouth.”
“But could she have let the files or prints get into the wrong hands? I mean, by accident?”
“I suppose it’s possible.” Ross walked over to Demi, looked straight into her eyes and then planted a firm kiss on her lips.
“What was that for?”
“For trusting me.”
“Of course I trust you.”
“Photos of me and Sam turning up just after I met her for a drink – you must have thought …”
“They were taken with your old camera, the one with the cracked lens. Willow worked that out.”
Ross looked deflated. “So you did think I cheated on you?”
“Only for the briefest second. It was awful seeing you with another woman, whenever it was taken.”
Ross embraced Demi and kissed her gently on the ear. He smelt faintly of sweat and she welcomed his familiar scent. “What can I do to take away that image?”
Two Shades of the Lilac Sunset Page 8