by Dawson, H A
'I've no idea.'
'Okay, thanks.'
She needed a distraction and hoped it may re-ignite her interest in drawing and painting, and stuffed the leaflet into her bag and continued along, weaving through the hordes and avoiding the gaze of shoppers and office workers. In her mind, all eyes pressed into her, all fingers pointed, all comments speaking of her similarity to Saskia; in reality, everyone was oblivious.
Needing to hear a friendly voice, she reached for her phone. Her finger hovered over Ben's number. She ignored it and instead called Verity. There was no answer.
Reprimanding herself for her persistent nervousness, she wondered if she should start proceedings to contact her mother. Julie Johnson must know something, and she may have even been a friend of Saskia's. Undecided, she progressed along a quiet road towards her house, glimpsed over her shoulder to check for traffic, and started to cross.
The sound of an accelerating car alerted her, causing her to spin. A car was heading straight towards her and driving on the wrong side of the road at speed. With her blood pounding her muscles and her fear intense, she ran to the other side and stepped into the safety of a doorway. The car whizzed by, heading away and turning a corner.
Once she had gotten over the initial shock, she trotted home and arrived on her doorstep hot and breathless. Fumbling in her bag for the door key, she caught sight of the ornamental fox by the window laid on its side on the ground. Seeing as another sign that someone tracked her, she presented the key to the lock, stepped inside, and with her senses alert, she shut the door.
At her feet was a newspaper cutting. She reached down, noted the scrawled ink warning to be careful, and looked at the headline referring to a missing person and the photo of Saskia. It could have been her; the resemblance was uncanny and her blood drained.
A knock at the door caused her to jolt. Holding her breath, she stood motionlessly and stared at the wooden door.
'Megan,' a voice said.
'Ben?'
'Yes, it's me.'
She opened the door and flung her arms around him. ‘Thank the Lord you're here.'
Chapter 4
With the newspaper article clenched between her fingertips, Megan pulled away from Ben and stepped into the living area. The word "missing" appeared to pounce from the paper, threatening, warning. She looked at the image of Saskia and struggled to still her quivering body. Her heart was thumping and her pulse reverberating in her throat. She dropped onto the sofa, cold and numb, and gazed at the fireplace.
'Can I see that?' Ben asked.
He took the article and stood motionless, reading the text. She watched and waited, urging his calmness to pass to her. Her stomach felt like a whirlpool, her thoughts wild and turbulent, and one thought echoed, loud and persistent. It was happening again, someone was trying to kill her.
'Did you know Saskia?'
She shook her head.
Who sent this?'
'I don't know.' Her voice was high-pitched and frantic. 'When I arrived I had a vision someone stabbed me, just here.' She pointed to her stomach. 'Someone is going to kill me. Everywhere I go I remember things. I even recognise some people.'
'Perhaps your real mother lived here.'
'That's what I thought - it's the only thing that makes sense. But Saskia wasn't my mother, I've already checked.'
'Maybe they were friends. You could still have witnessed the murder.'
'But I would have remembered! You're not going to forget something like that.'
He placed his hand on her thigh. Uneasy, she moved away, stepping towards the patio doors and searching for a moment of tranquillity. The garden was still and silent, there were unblemished red and yellow roses along a border, birds hopped on the manicured lawn, and butterflies and insects hovered over the smaller blooms.
Ben appeared by her side.
'Someone was following me and I almost got hit by a car.'
'Are you okay?'
She nodded frantically.
'Did you see who it was?'
'Of course not! I was too busy running.’
'It could have been an accident.'
'No, it wasn’t. The car was on the wrong side of the road.’ She folded her arms. ‘It has to have been something to do with Saskia.'
'What do you know about her?'
'Nothing. I don't know who she is or what she was involved with - I don't know a thing about her.'
He lowered his arm onto her shoulders. It was clear he wanted to console her, but she resisted, pulled away, and strode into the kitchen. Wanting to busy herself, she decided to make sandwiches and took sliced ham and lettuce from the fridge and bread from the bread bin. Then, she flicked on the kettle.
'First thing this morning I went to the local cemetery,' she continued, 'there was a grave for Frank Fox. I think he was my father.'
'Oh?'
'I knew the grave was there. I felt desperately sad. Only . . .'
'Only what?'
Her voice softened. 'He died two years before I was born.'
Ben frowned.
'I knew I shouldn't have told you.'
'You have to admit, it does sound strange.'
'This entire town is strange.'
There was a deep yearning in his eyes. 'So come home.'
Tensing, she thrust the plate of sandwiches into his hand, poured water into the prepared coffee mugs, and followed him to the dining table. Her jaw clenched, her face set.
'We should talk about what happened at home,’ he said. ‘You never offered me an explanation.’
'There is nothing to say. I don't want you in my life.'
'Why are you so contradictory? You let me in, obviously pleased to see me, tell me your problems, make me lunch, and then tell me you don't need me at all.'
'Of course I was pleased to see you, but I would have been pleased to see the postman too. Someone tried to kill me for Lord's sake.'
There was a staid look in his eyes. 'Are you sure you're not exaggerating just a little bit?'
‘Why do you never believe me? And you wonder why I left!'
'Yes, you're right! I do wonder why you left. A short note is not an explanation. Don't I deserve a bit more?'
'I've been telling you for weeks how unhappy I was. Have you any idea how you hurt me?'
'I never hurt you, not intentionally.'
'Of course you did. You seem to think I said things for fun. Do you know what it’s like not been believed? When I said I wanted something to stop, I meant it. Why would I lie?'
He gulped and looked away.
She knew that he was thinking that she had been spinning lies and causing needless trouble, but that was so far from the truth it was ridiculous. How could he have been so blind? Did he ever realise how his behaviour pained?
'You shouldn't have come,’ she said stiffly. ‘It's over between us. There's no going back.'
'I can tell you still love me.'
She held a determined stare. 'No, I don't.'
'We'll talk later . . . when you're calmer. I need you, Megan. David misses you too.'
Infuriated by his unwillingness to accept anything she said, she held her tongue. She may as well have been talking to herself. Nothing changed.
They continued to lunch. With her teeth gritted, Megan listened to Ben as he chatted about his friends in Halifax. He was either oblivious to her resentment or ignoring it, and it did nothing to help her mood. Nevertheless, as he continued with his tales of university life, sharing the finer details of the practical jokes he played on his friends, her demeanour softened and she remembered why she had loved him.
Then his happy disposition melted and their eyes locked.
'You should contact your birth mother,' he said. ‘She may have answers to your problem.'
'But she wasn't Saskia.'
‘So you’ve said, but she might know something.'
Her lips tightened.
'What are you so afraid of?'
‘I’m not afraid! She di
dn't want me and abandoned me. How could I form a relationship with someone capable of that? No one would have been able to rip me away from Joshua, ever.’
Her heart weighted. Would she ever be able to forgive herself for his death? He should be with her, watching television, playing on a games console, or listening to music. Her punishment was everlasting.
She turned back to Ben. 'There is no way I could have ever considered putting a child of mine up for adoption. That's why I understand how you are with David.'
'What do you mean?'
'Come on, don't act stupid. David comes first with you. He has to.'
She pushed back the chair then stepped to the sofa. Her head ached and her neck was tense. She had had enough of stressful conversations for one day and wanted silence. Having stretched her neck and shoulder muscles, and released an obligatory groan, she shut her eyes.
'Let me give you a massage,' Ben said.
Willingly, she dropped to the floor, sitting between his legs. His fingers and thumbs pressed along each side of her spine, and he manipulated her shoulders and eased her taut neck. The sensation was heavenly, and she shut her eyes and blanked her mind. Next, he lightly fingered her scalp. His tender touch smoothed out her stress-induced undulations, and he massaged her forehead, temples and eyes. She released a pleasurable moan.
Soon, his warm breath was on her skin and his soft lips caressed her cheek and ear. In response, her body tingled and her fine hairs stood on end, working their way along the length of her back. She turned to face him. He cupped her face with his hands and their lips met. Breathless and with a memorable urgency, they made their way to the bedroom and made love.
Afterwards, laid motionless on the bed, she considered their beautiful reunion. Not wanting the moment to end, she snuggled into him, pressing into his silky warm skin and ran her fingers across his chest. It was a familiar excursion, a delightful moment.
He broke the silence. 'Where did you say you felt yourself being stabbed?'
She pulled away and scowled. 'Why do you have to do this now?'
'Look at your stomach.'
Her anxieties flooded towards her. The birthmark on her middle resembled an old wound. It looked like a frayed line, as though her skin had been sliced and had not knitted together; it looked like a stabbing.
'Do you think it’s significant?' he asked.
She levered herself from the bed. 'It's just a birthmark. Let it go. I don't want to talk about it.'
Unexpectedly chilled, she could barely dress, and slipped into her jeans and struggled with shaking hands to fasten the buttons on her blouse. Once she’d donned her flat shoes, she elbowed past Ben and descended the stairs. He was quick to follow.
'Do you believe in reincarnation?' he asked.
She passed him an irritated stare.
'Let’s assume it happens. I think you could have been Saskia in your last life. You seem to have some of her memories and her stab wound.'
She stopped and gawked.
'You even look like her. It makes sense, Megan.'
She leaned against a kitchen unit and rotated her ring. It was not a concept she could grasp. If everyone came back as someone else, vengeance would be commonplace. It would be widespread and uncontrollable.
'Plus,’ he continued, ‘you did say you felt Frank Fox was your father. Maybe he was, in a way.'
She gawped, stunned. According to the newspaper article, Saskia’s surname was Fox. How could she have failed to make the connection? Even so, his notion remained difficult to accept. She did not want the memories and she did not want to be Saskia. The woman could have been evil, a murderer, she could have committed atrocious acts. How would she feel then? Would she feel Saskia's guilt or God forbid her satisfaction? It was difficult enough coming to terms with certain aspects of her life without having to deal with those from another.
She forced a determined stare. 'I won’t accept it as reincarnation. I must have witnessed something as a child. That's the only explanation. Whoever murdered Saskia must have realised I was a witness and now they’re on to me.'
His phone sounded. 'Hold on.' He answered the call. 'David, what's wrong?'
As he spoke, his voice had an irritated edge. At the same time, he tried to remain calm and assertive and asked a series of obscure questions. Something was wrong, and in spite of being unaware of the problem, her irritations grew. David had always had perfect timing, forever drawing them apart and causing needless trouble. It was difficult to accept his sincerity.
Muttering her disapproval, she stomped to the dining table to clear away the dirty crockery. Moments later, Ben appeared at her rear. 'I'm sorry Megan,’ he said sheepishly, ‘I'm going to have to go back. David's got himself into a bit of trouble.'
'He's seventeen! Can't he look after himself?'
He stepped towards her, pleaded with her for her understanding, and reminded her that he was his son. But she wasn’t swayed. Nothing changed. David was always causing trouble, and Ben always sided with him.
'I'll be back first thing tomorrow, I promise,’ he said.
'Don't bother.'
He stood, hesitant. 'I'm sure I'm right about Saskia, but try not to worry and don't go out in case someone else has reached the same conclusion.'
'I can look after myself.'
'I know you can. I'll be on the end of the phone if you need me. We will find out what happened.'
He gathered his belongings and left the house, striding to his car and taking one last glance at the house before driving away. As she watched the car fade from view, his last words echoed in her mind. She did not want to know what happened; instead, she wanted to hide.
Perhaps Ben was right. Perhaps it would be better to stay indoors, at least for the moment.
Ben's difficulties with David took much longer than he anticipated and he still hadn't returned days later. Stubbornly, Megan ignored his text messages and refused to answer his calls, driven by a simmering anger. He knew she was in danger yet he had left her alone. It was wrong and disrespectful, and more proof of his disputable love.
She should have been glad. A break-up had been what she had craved. However, since his suggestion that she was Saskia's incarnated self, she felt insecure and wanted his companionship. She didn’t know who she was or how she should feel. Did character traits remain? Did bad remain bad? Was something beyond her control guiding her actions and her life? Ben seemed to have a deeper understanding of such things since he was the one who had placed this ridiculous notion inside her head. However, rather than his comments soothing her, he had created untold turmoil and fled. Once again, he was causing her incomprehensible misery and she wanted to forget him.
The doorbell sounded. Megan peered through the window, saw it was Verity, and opened the door.
'I thought you might fancy a chat,’ she said, ‘that's if you're not doing anything.’
'Sure, come in. I'm going out, but not until later.'
'Going anywhere nice?'
She pointed to the leaflet on the mantelpiece telling of the art event. 'I used to draw and paint quite a bit. I'm hoping it'll trigger my enthusiasm.'
She studied the leaflet.
'Fancy a drink?'
'A coffee if you have any, milk, no sugar. I need the caffeine.'
She hurried away, switched on the kettle and prepared two mugs.
'Nice place you have here,' she called, 'handy too.'
She stepped back into the living area and hovered by the door. 'Yes, I was lucky. I hadn't seen it until I moved in. A friend of mine found it. It's perfect for one person.'
'I don't know why, but I assumed you were married,' she said.
The water started to bubble. She returned to the kitchen, poured the water into the mugs, and headed back to the living area.
'I've just ended a difficult relationship. It's been harder than I thought it would be.'
'Having regrets?'
'Ben won't accept it’s over. He came down a couple of days ago. He did
n't stay long - he had to go back to his son.'
'Did you manage to sort anything out?'
'No, when I left Halifax I was sure I’d done the right thing.' She rotated her crossover ring. ‘His presence has made everything more complicated. I wish he hadn't turned up. '
'Maybe it's worth another go?'
She hesitated. 'Maybe, but I don't think I'd be doing it for the right reason. Someone tried to run me over the other day. I think I'm in danger.'
'Do you think it was deliberate?'
'The car was on the wrong side of the road. It was definitely deliberate!'
Another reason for you to return to Ben. Why didn't it work out?'
She placed her hand over her fading bruise. 'He has a son and so there were three of us in the relationship. I never felt as though I fitted in. When I moved in, they did their best to make me feel comfortable. We decorated a couple of the rooms, I added personal touches - made it look a bit more feminine - and we even replaced a couple of pieces of furniture with something I'd chosen.'
Verity nodded, urging her on.
'Problem was it has just been the two of them for years. They’re both set in their ways.'
'These things take time.'
'I gave it six months . . . that's plenty.'
'Do you love him?'
She chewed her lip searching for an appropriate answer that was neither an admission nor a denial.
'I think you should give it another go,' she said, 'you'd be better off out of here.'
Megan scowled. 'Why are you so desperate to see me leave?'
Silence.
'If you know something, you should tell me.’ She paused. ‘Have you been following me?'
'You look like someone I once knew, Saskia Fox. I think someone killed her. There could be a link to you.'
'Not you as well! I don't know anything about Saskia.'
She hesitated, her eyes narrowed, her gaze penetrating. 'Regardless of whether that’s true or not, you should keep your head down.'
'Why? What do you know?'
She looked at her coffee.
'Frank Fox was her father, was he not?'
She gawked and her eyes flitted. 'What do you know about him?'