Let Me Be Your Hope (Music and Letters Series Book 2)

by Lynsey M. Stewart

  ‘Listen to me and take every bit of advice I’m going to give you because you wouldn’t like me when I’m pissed off, and I get pissed off when I see people touching my things, so I suggest you back the fuck off and leave her alone.’ I found myself against his chest. I shrugged off his breath in my face and stepped back to find Abi taking in the chivalry that I had no right to parade.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she said, stepping towards me and further away from him.

  ‘Always good to have a healthy bit of competition,’ twatface said.

  ‘Fucking shut your mouth!’ I shouted, the words crashing out of me with no thought or concept of how wrong this was on so many levels. I stepped forward on shut and Abi stepped forward on mouth, and there we stood with her hand on my chest and a huge frown across her beautiful face.

  ‘Jamie, will you just stop!’ she yelled out over the music. I suddenly remembered that I was there as the new team manager to get to know my staff and set a good example, but I was now having an emotional—leaning towards violent—breakdown in front of all of them. Even the agency social worker I’d had a very productive supervision with earlier today was eyeing me warily from behind his pint glass.

  I hung my head in shame but clasped my fingers around her perfectly delicate hand on my chest, squeezing tightly as we intertwined our fingers so that I could feel the pulse in her little finger.

  ‘I shouldn’t have come. I’m doing more damage than good,’ I said, still tied between her fingers.

  ‘I still feel it, Jamie. I know you’re holding back. I know you want me. I can see it,’ she pleaded shakily, moving her body closer and wrapping her hand around the back of my neck. ‘Tell me if I’m wrong. If it’s not what you want. Tell me I’m wrong and we’ll never speak of it again. I’ll stay away. Fuck, I’ll even ask for a transfer.’

  ‘You won’t!’ I shouted, grabbing her elbows and pulling her away from me. ‘You’ll stay with me. I’m too fucking selfish. I want you near me even if I can’t have you.’

  ‘Tell me why, you bastard! Tell me what’s happened. What is it?’ She shook with anger and contempt and I couldn’t see her reduced to feeling like she was nothing. I couldn’t stand by and watch her crumple because of me. But I wanted that small piece to remain—the piece of good, the hope she carried and the love she had for me that I knew still burned like a fucking fire.

  ‘Abi, I have to go,’ I said, holding on to her elbows and crushing her into me. My actions were contradicting my words, but I didn’t care because she had folded herself into me, allowing me to pretend for a few seconds that she was mine again.

  ‘Please! I don’t care how much you’re going to hurt me. I need to know. I’m hurt enough. This will just add another layer, and I’d rather that than never know.’

  I walked her out of the club still cradling her, both of us holding on for dear life, her words shattering me all over again.

  ‘You think you’re hurt now but that’s nothing. You’re going to hate me and I can’t…I just can’t. I’m not ready to see the hate. I’m not ready to lose you completely,’ I muttered, shaking my way through this almost confession.

  Then our world changed. She shot back and pushed my arms away, knocking me backwards. She had a rage I didn’t know existed, and it was all directed at me.

  ‘You fucking arse! Nearly two years,’ she shouted. ‘Nothing!’ she screamed. ‘Do you know what that does to someone?’ Her whole body trembled and shook. ‘Let me tell you. They don’t live; they exist. They punish themselves. They let themselves get used over and over again.’ She went from wide-open gestures to closed and tight movements before finally wrapping her arms around her body to try to stop the shakes. ‘How could you?’

  ‘You ended it. Fuck, Abi. I thought you didn’t give a shit about me. I fucking hate this!’

  ‘You know what I hate?’ she said, slamming her open hand into her chest. ‘I hate that I still want you. I hate that I’m standing here making a total fool of myself because if you told me you wanted me, I’d jump straight back into your arms.’

  ‘Of course I want you. I’ve never stopped!’ I shouted across to her, hoping she’d take it all in. I rubbed my hand across my neck and looked to the floor before closing my eyes in the hope that her cries would be drowned out in mine and her pained expression would disappear when I opened them again. ‘There’s so much I want to say.’

  ‘Tell me,’ she said as she gritted her teeth.

  ‘I can’t. You’ll hate me even more, and I can’t face that.’

  She dropped her arms from the tight hug she’d formed around herself and started to laugh with such a hard edge a shiver ran down my neck. ‘Who is she?’ I shook my head and she laughed, a cold, hollow laugh. ‘Why the fuck am I only realising this now? Who. Is. She?’

  She screamed it out, and I matched her tone.

  ‘My wife!’ I fell to the floor and broke down brutally. ‘My fucking wife.’ The cries started to burrow under my skin and my shoulders jerked up and down as the cold, harsh sobs took over. I vaguely remember a gasp. I think I may have heard a splintered wail piercing me and stamping across my scalp. I definitely remember her walking away, sheltered on either side by Elle and Kate, who carried her away from the broken mess kneeling on the floor behind her.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Abi

  Now.

  Five days, three tubs of chocolate ice cream, six bottles of wine and a family-sized pizza later, I was starting to accept that Jamie Dawson, love of my life and keeper of my heart, was married to someone who wasn’t me.

  I was starting to thank holy fuck that I wasn’t alone in this epic journey back into full body heartbreak. Elle had stayed by my side; she’d cradled my shaking body into hers through the nights when I’d sobbed and swore my way through the darkness, and again during the days when I’d retreated into silence.

  ‘You know, your fridge is a health hazard. Quite frankly, I’m shocked at the amount of out of date probiotic yoghurt. You know, it won’t calm the bad bacteria in your gut; it will only add to it, and probably impregnate and triple in size overnight, and then you’re just asking for a lifetime of misery caused by the cramps of irritable bowel.’ Elle’s mum, Linda, often visited towards the end of the month. I’d caught on that she was inspecting the contents of the cupboards and fridge and bringing food to stretch us out until payday.

  I was in no mood for pleasantries, which I made clear by storming over to the plastic yoghurt pots still wrapped in their cardboard sleeve and dropping them into the bin with a thud.

  ‘What’s with you, Abi Dhabi’? Linda asked as I slumped back down at the kitchen table. ‘That was some passive aggressive yoghurt slinging.’

  ‘I’m over yoghurt. I’m in need of gin,’ I said moodily. ‘You don’t happen to have a bottle of Bailey’s in your bag, do you? We could crack open the ice cream and pour it on as a topping; kill two birds with one stone.’

  ‘It’s a man, isn’t it?’ Linda said, bracing herself. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Not any man, Mum. The man,’ Elle said as she walked through from the bedroom and pulled a bottle of wine from the back of a cupboard.

  ‘What?’ she asked as she clocked my raised eyebrow.

  ‘He’s back? Jamie the pen pal who doesn’t write? Jamie the hunk in chinos?’ Linda asked.

  ‘Mum, you only met him once. Don’t label him with chinos,’ Elle muttered, giving me a tight smile.

  ‘He does wear them a lot,’ I shrugged lazily.

  ‘Focus, girls. Push the chinos to one side,’ Linda said as she shut the freezer door with her hip.

  ‘I’m trying to; believe me,’ I sighed.

  There was a loud knock on the door. Elle skipped over to open it. There stood my mother with a bottle of cheap wine and a plastic shopping bag that looked like it contained a large bag of ice cubes.

  ‘Hiya, baby girl,’ she said as she lifted both arms, forcing the bag down the crook of her elbow and swinging it side to sid
e. ‘Happy moving in!’

  ‘Mum, you do realise she’s been here months now?’ I said, trying hard to lift my head from the table.

  ‘I know, I know. Sorry. I’ve been meaning to come round but life just gets in the way.’

  ‘Is that what you’re calling him now?’

  ‘She think’s she’s so funny, doesn’t she? Hi, Linda. Didn’t see you there,’ she said on a wave as Linda cleared out the mush that was once salad from the bottom of the fridge.

  ‘Hi, Michelle, you’re looking good,’ Linda said, blowing into her fringe to stop what appeared to be a hot flush.

  ‘Oh, stop. I look like an older version of the hot young thing I used to be. It’s crept up on me, Linda. I’m not going to lie.’

  ‘Can you tell your wardrobe?’ I snarked. Mum hated getting older. When she turned forty, she announced that she was going to start counting backwards with every future birthday, so she was now a very unconvincing twenty-seven.

  ‘What’s wrong with this?’ she asked.

  ‘Denim skirts and vest tops do not a style queen make,’ I replied.

  ‘I took this out of your wardrobe, Abi Sinclair.’ And—fucking hell—she had.

  ‘You make my clothes look cheap.’

  ‘You can have it back, Donatella.’

  Elle and Linda were pretending to read the free paper we usually threw straight in the recycling bin. ‘Isn’t she like me, Linda?’ Mum laughed. ‘My pride and fucking joy.’ She held my chin in her fingers and shook it. ‘She gets her fire from me, as well as the good looks to make anyone forgive that bloody fire.’ She pulled me towards her, her red nails digging into my skin. ‘Elle, doesn’t she look like me? Don’t you think?’

  ‘I don’t look like anyone. I look like me,’ I replied firmly.

  ‘Here, I’ve made some fairy cakes. Tuck in.’ Linda flustered around opening a Tupperware box that contained enough fairy cakes to feed everybody in the entire block of flats. ‘Have some sugar, Michelle,’ she said, holding out the box to her like a peace offering between us.

  ‘How ironic that here we are, fully grown adults no longer planning our birthday parties with gusto and yet we’re still eating fairy cakes,’ Elle said, laughing too loudly for it to be genuine.

  ‘Hey, have some respect for your mother. You still seeing Ben?’ Mum asked. Elle replied with a nod. ‘Well, if you’re so worried about it being a cake only worthy of a child’s party that probably took your mum all bloody afternoon to make, I suggest you sit it on the tip of Ben’s cock to make it more appealing and suck it down in one breath.’ Her frown turned into roaring laughter as she threw her head back and pulled Elle towards her in something of a headlock. Elle choked on her cake, and her mum looked like she was almost at the point of passing out. Mum had dropped those words like a brick and successfully rendered Linda speechless. For someone who always knew what to say in any given situation, that was a pretty impressive achievement.

  ‘I’m rarely without words. I can count the times I’ve struggled for something to say on two fingers. I’m now adding a third,’ Linda said flatly as she stared into the distance.

  ‘It’s a joke. Come on, Linda. We have to accept our girls are having sex. I accepted it long ago, offered the use of my condom stash under the bathroom sink and wished her great fucking sex.’

  ‘OK, I’m done. I need to lie down in a dark room,’ I said, collecting the wine bottle from Elle’s hand. I kissed Mum on the cheek and pushed her by her shoulders towards the door. ‘I’m off to bed, Mum.’

  It was time to be alone and stare the truth in the face even though it threatened to break me with even a whisper of the word.

  Married.

  Why hadn’t I suspected that before? Maybe I had but it was just too frightening to give any space to.

  My bed was the only place I wanted to be. The sheepskin topper and thick duvet hugged my body warmly. I started to wonder about the reality of working from home permanently, but then I remembered I would need to ask permission from the man that had just stuck a knife in my heart. Ignoring him at the office seemed a better option.

  A soft knock on my bedroom door broke my comfort.

  ‘Come in,’ I said as I turned onto my side.

  ‘I thought you’d want this.’ Elle held up a corkscrew and threw it onto the floor next to the bottle that remained untouched. ‘Scoot up. I need to escape our mothers. I’ve left them with Ben, so if that doesn’t show how much he loves me, I don’t know what will,’ she smiled as she climbed onto the bed and put her arm around my waist. ‘How are you doing?’

  ‘We like to cause scenes outside nightclubs, don’t we?’ I said.

  ‘It’s becoming a theme.’

  ‘I keep thinking of random stuff. I’m trying to put the timeline together of when it could have happened and when they would have met, but I’m just going round in circles.’

  ‘You can’t do that, Abi. Only he knows what happened, and he owes you the truth.’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to hear it.’ I felt her arm tighten around me on my words. ‘I keep replaying things. Memories. Things he said to me. I still can’t believe it. Was everything we had all lies?’

  ‘Abi, I saw the two of you together. He didn’t fake anything,’ she replied as she tucked my hair behind my ear.

  I settled into her words and welcomed her playing with my hair, finally relaxing me to sleep.

  Chapter Forty

  Jamie

  Now.

  ‘So how’s Dani?’ I asked. Supervision had never been so hard. I had a hundred and one other things I wanted to ask.

  ‘Not great. Still very cagey about what she’s saying, and her mum is still very sick, but I’m visiting when I can.’ Elle appeared to have a good connection with one of her families, and despite coming off all child protection cases following the assault that resulted in her being stabbed, Elle and Colin had agreed for her to keep Dani on her case load, a young girl struggling to cope with her mum’s MS and the demands of being a young carer.

  ‘Are you sure you want to keep hold of her? I know the family home isn’t far from where you were attacked. I can move her to someone else.’

  ‘No. I want to stay involved. Abi’s been visiting with me when she can. I’ve been OK so far.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re still friends. You’re good for each other. You calm Abi down and she makes you more daring. It’s a good mix. Always was,’ I said, pretending to write down the last few notes and trying to figure out how I would type up Elle’s supervision when most of the notes read ask her in thick scrawl.

  I made a show of ending the session by dropping my notepad in my desk drawer and swivelling my chair to face her. ‘Off the record, I want to ask you something. I keep hearing the same thing. She talks about being used or letting people use her. What does that even mean?’

  ‘I can’t answer that,’ Elle said as she stood up.

  ‘Has she been in a relationship since me?’

  She glanced towards the door. She looked like she was either planning her escape or assessing if it was thick enough to keep in muffled voices.

  ‘Elle, we used to be friends too. Help me out.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No she hasn’t been in a relationship, or no you won’t help me out?’ I needed absolute clarification on this.

  ‘I don’t know what’s going to come of this. Have you forgotten you’re married? What does it matter to you anyway?’ She had this tone of anger in her voice. I’d never heard it from her before. Elle was always so quiet, so passive, and always so fucking quick to see the best in everyone. Where was the Elle that I knew? Had months of comforting Abi changed her opinion of me?

  ‘Please,’ I said, trying to appear as calm as possible.

  ‘No, she hasn’t been in a relationship since you.’

  I let out a strangled gasp and quickly covered my embarrassment with a cough aimed into my fist. ‘What about the guy at the bar?’

  ‘Rob’s a friend.’

/>   ‘A friend with benefits,’ I stated.

  ‘She doesn’t do relationships. She just…’

  ‘What, Elle?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘She went through a phase of having one-night stands. A lot of them. He happened to make it twice. She was just trying to forget you, but I think she’s coming out of it all now.’

  I laughed bitterly at her choice of words and shook my head briefly in annoyance. ‘Jesus, it’s not some kind of epidemic or the bloody flu.’

  ‘Did you expect her never to have sex again? That’s not fair, is it? How many have you slept with since you left?’ She blushed terribly and covered her mouth with her hand. ‘I’m sorry, that’s totally unprofessional. I shouldn’t have asked that.’

  I followed her eyes to the same spot of carpet and felt my lungs clash for air. ‘There’s so much I want to say. So much I need to explain.’

  ‘Then why don’t you? Just for her sake. She needs to move on. I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve been there to comfort her. Do you know how hard that is to do that when you have no idea what to say? Imagine having something so precious, so amazing, and then someone takes it away from you. How can someone move on from that?’

  ‘I know how that feels. I know more than anyone,’ I said in a hollow voice, the tick in my jaw flexing its legs again.

  ‘Promise me you’ll talk to her,’ she said as she stood up. ‘Tell her everything.’

  I nodded. Elle was right. I owed Abi an explanation. I opened the drawer, took out the pad, ripped off the ask her doodles and wrote a note.

  Meet me in the park at the end of the road at 1 p.m.

  I folded it up, jumped out of my chair and made my way to Abi’s desk. I spotted the stapler and put the note underneath it, a corner peaking out to be sure it would be seen. Thirteen seconds later, I found myself back at my desk pressing my fingers into my eyelids as I thought about all the notes I’d hidden under her stapler and how different this was to the rest.