Joanie would love that, wouldn’t she? To know how she’d driven Colleen back to drinking again; only Colleen couldn’t seem to help herself. Alcohol was the only thing that helped her to cope with waking up every day to this huge, formidable void in her life. The feeling of loneliness magnified with thoughts of her family. All of them together at the house without her.
Grabbing a glass from the side, she unscrewed the top from the bottle of vodka and poured herself a generous measure as she recalled the smile on the shopkeeper’s face as he had served her.
That knowing look. As if they had an unspoken agreement that when she popped in to buy a bottle of alcohol early in the morning, he would pretend that it was normal. Act as if she had merely come in to pick up her early morning newspaper.
Discreetly tucking the bottle away for her inside a dark blue carrier bag. As if he was doing her some kind of favour. Shielding her secret from the world. Before holding out his greedy hand, only too happy to take an alcoholic’s money.
Bringing the glass to her lips with shaking hands, she tried and failed to steady them. Slopping the liquid up the side of the glass, she closed her eyes and quickly drank it down in one.
Aware of how bad she was getting again, that she was a slave to her addiction once more. Only today she didn’t care.
Joanie Byrne had succeeded once again in pushing Colleen so far out of the family that by the time Colleen realised what had happened, it was already too late.
She was firmly on the outside desperately trying to look in.
And to think that Colleen had almost been grateful to the woman all those years ago, just after Scarlett had been born. For Joanie not ever telling the rest of the family what Colleen had done. That she had been the real reason behind Joanie’s breakdown. That she’d drugged the woman.
Of course, Joanie hadn’t told anyone.
Instead the woman had used their little secret as collateral, as leverage to ensure that Colleen always knew her place.
And according to Joanie, Colleen’s place was as far away as possible.
She poured another measure of vodka. Knocking it back and closing her eyes as she got her first fix of the day, savouring the burn in her throat as the liquid instantly spread a tingling warmth all down through her.
Anticipating the numbness that would shortly come. How it would immobilise the thoughts that swam around her head. All day and all night, consuming her. Filling her with rage and anger.
That evil bitch, Joanie Byrne had already ruined her life once. Back when Nancy and Daniel had been little. Turning her own children against her. Making her look incompetent. Incapable.
And now she was doing it all over again; except this time it was her precious granddaughter that was the pawn in the woman’s wicked game.
Colleen should have killed the old bitch while she’d had the chance. Christ knows how she’d tried. She’d almost succeeded, too. Sticking her foot out and making the old hag tumble down the staircase.
Drugging her. Filling her head with fabricated lies and stories. She’d made Joanie feel as if she was having a mental breakdown. Made the woman unable to establish fantasy from reality. Sent the woman mad.
Only Joanie had more lives than a bionic cat, it seemed.
Getting up from the many falls she’d ‘accidentally’ encountered, always covered in bumps and bruises.
The last fall had been a bad one though.
Michael had heard her. Slamming down the marble staircase, landing in a dazed and battered heap on the floor.
She’d almost broken her neck, Michael had exclaimed.
Chance would be a fine thing, Colleen had thought as the man had fussed over his wife, at last admitting what he’d been choosing to ignore. Acknowledging Joanie’s strange behaviour. Finally looking beyond his big crooked nose and seeing what was happening, what had been happening for months, right in front of his eyes.
Joanie wasn’t well. At least, that’s how Colleen had made it look.
Her plan had been playing out just perfectly up until then; only Michael had to go and ruin it, didn’t he? Involving the rest of the family, alerting them all to the fact that Joanie was having some kind of a breakdown, that she was a danger to herself.
And they’d all believed him. Of course they had.
Every one of them.
Then they’d packed the old bint off to a psychiatric hospital.
Making a huge fuss over wanting to get the old woman well again, as if she was Saint bloody Teresa. As if the woman could do no wrong.
And Colleen had no choice then but to let them admit the woman, even though she knew it was only a matter of time until Joanie’s fogged, clouded mind started to make sense of what had happened to her.
But she deserved everything she got.
None of the rest of the family knew the real Joanie, not the way Colleen did.
She’d spent a lifetime on the receiving end of the woman’s malice. Learning first-hand just how sadistic and nasty the woman could be.
The rest of the family were all too damn stupid, too ignorant to see it themselves. Instead, they were blinded by the woman’s facade, all of them under Joanie’s spell.
They didn’t know the lengths that the woman would go to, to get her own way.
To stop Colleen from wading in on what she claimed was hers.
Driving a wedge between her and her own children.
Nancy didn’t have the time of day for her, that was the truth of it.
And Daniel. God knows where her Daniel was. Four years he’d been gone.
Jack had told them all some cock and bull story about how her son had been spotted out in Ibiza. That he’d found his credit card details had been used in a nightclub and a room to rent. Then a boat.
That was the story Colleen was meant to believe, that her Daniel, her boy, had gone off travelling the world.
Though in her heart of hearts Colleen knew that it wasn’t true.
This family, and all the sick and twisted lies.
Something had happened to him. She was sure of it. Convinced. A mother knew that kind of thing. It was like a sixth sense. Like a force within her.
Though, with nothing to go on and no one to turn to for help, what else could she do but pray that, one day, her Daniel would find his way back to her?
Colleen poured herself a third glass.
Swirling the liquid around this time. Sipping it. Relishing it.
Colleen was done with them all. Liars and crooks the lot of them.
That was the one thing that Old Joanie hadn’t factored in this time: that Colleen was much stronger these days, especially now that she was standing on her own two feet.
She’d spent a lifetime letting that old bag manipulate and belittle her, and she’d vowed that she’d never take any shit from Joanie Byrne ever again.
Her granddaughter, Scarlett, was everything to her, everything.
If Joanie thought for even a second that she could try and take the child away from her too, she had another think coming.
Finishing her third measure of vodka, Colleen smiled to herself, as the heat finally trickled through her.
She was resolute.
Colleen Byrne would do anything to be part of her grandchild’s life. Anything. And no one, but no one, would stop her. Especially not Joanie.
Colleen would sooner see the woman dead first.
Twenty
‘Hey!’ Walking into the flat, Marie Huston took her coat off and hung it up on the hook on the wall.
Turning, she eyed Robert. The man seemingly too busy to even bother to acknowledge her presence. Sat on the sofa, glued to the screen of his laptop, as per usual, the machine balanced expertly on his thighs.
‘Earth to Robert! I said hello!’ Marie said, instantly irritated at the fact that she’d had to repeat herself, and even then, Robert had simply nodded in her general direction. His eyes staying fixed on the screen.
Such disrespect and disinterest. After all she did for the man.
She’d only been in the door a few seconds and already Robert had managed to put her back up.
He was doing that a lot lately.
Winding her up, making her angry.
He knew how it annoyed her when he ignored her, yet still he insisted on doing it.
Clenching her hands into tight fists, she could feel that familiar fury inside of her. The anger that she tried so hard to hide.
Breathe.
Reminding herself not to start yet another row with the man.
Not tonight, when she’d promised to cook Robert a special meal. To make up for all the rowing they’d been doing lately. Arguments that Robert could easily prevent if he just let her in.
That’s all she wanted. A proper relationship.
Like when she’d first met him. When he’d first woken up from his coma.
He’d been nice to her then.
Kind, almost. When she’d been his only visitor. The only person that made the effort to sit and talk to him each and every day. To spend time with him. Even when he’d been ready to leave hospital, Marie had done her upmost to help him. Working with social services and the notary to get his new name officially registered, so that he could be put back in the system once again.
So that he could get his finances sorted and to get housed.
Marie had helped the man get his life back.
Thinking that this was just the start for them. That Robert would want a relationship with her, once she’d shown him how committed she was. How loyal she could be.
But Robert wasn’t having any of it.
Adamant that he didn’t want a relationship with anyone.
Of course, he’d given her a key so that she could come and go as she pleased, but he’d forbidden her from even thinking about moving in with him.
He was far too independent for that. Far too determined to label himself as in a relationship too. And then there was the fact that he couldn’t even abide being physically touched in any way, let alone capable of being intimate with anyone.
So Marie had settled on the very little that he did offer her.
A friendship, of sorts.
Though, these days, it was barely even that.
Something had changed in the man. Something that Marie couldn’t quite put her finger on.
It was as if he didn’t need her so much anymore, as if he was happier without her.
He acted as if she irritated him. Just her presence. Just her being here.
Marie closed her eyes, squeezing out the thoughts before they stayed inside her head and tormented her any more than they had already.
What was she thinking?
She and Robert were fine.
He had his strange ways, she’d give him that, but her love for Robert went far deeper than just physical affection. She didn’t need to be part of a ‘real’ relationship in order to define what they had together.
They were soul mates, meant to be.
Even though Robert would never say so, deep down, she knew that he felt the same.
She needed to remind herself of that sometimes, though; otherwise the dark thoughts took over.
And that wasn’t going to happen tonight: tonight, nothing was going to spoil her mood.
‘I thought I’d make your favourite. Steak and ale pie,’ she said, as she picked up the carrier bags and walked over to the kitchenette. Exhausted after her shift at the hospital, but still wanting to make an effort.
They needed this.
Some good food, some stimulating conversation.
Unpacking the ingredients she’d just bought from the shop on her way home, she smiled to herself, recalling that very first day on the job. The day she’d first met Robert.
How nervous she had been that day, arriving at the Burns Unit of Chelsea and Westminster Hospital. How everything had seemed so huge and daunting.
But then she’d walked into Robert Parkes’s room and from that very instant that she set eyes on him, she knew that everything in her world had changed for ever.
Robert was special.
And chance had brought them together.
Robert had been her very first patient; though, very quickly, he’d become so much more than that.
He’d consumed her, somehow, taking up all of her working hours, and most of her free time too. Marie had felt their special bond, his pull to her, instantly.
Even unconscious, she’d known that he could sense her near to him. That he was glad of her presence. Of her company.
Robert had become as important to her as the air she breathed. He was like a drug that she craved, needed in order to survive.
After he’d been discharged from the hospital, Marie had visited Robert in his new home. Bringing him extra medication to help him with his pain, and to enable him to sleep.
He’d seemed to appreciate that, too.
So Marie brought him more. Only enough for a couple of days, mind. Never too much that he would start taking her for granted. Forget the hand that fed him, so to speak.
So Marie had lied to the man, telling him that she couldn’t bring more than a few days’ worth of medication or else somebody would notice.
Her plan had worked out perfectly too. Enabling Marie to see Robert almost on a daily basis. Until he was completely dependent on the extra medication.
Sleeping pills, painkillers. Uppers, downers. You name it, Marie Huston had got it for Robert.
And when his own doctor had refused to write him any more prescriptions, four years after his initial trauma, knowing that Robert’s dependency on the prescriptions had become an addiction, well, that’s when Marie knew that she had him good and proper.
Robert was all hers.
Before long, she began not only bringing the meds, but food and drink too. Doing his weekly shop, so that he wouldn’t have to venture out to the shops. Knowing how self-conscious he’d become, even when he was wearing his special face mask. How aware he was of the people staring, as he dragged his leg that lagged just a few beats behind the rest of him as he walked. The left side of his body didn’t have his full range of movement.
Cooking his meals, washing his clothes, doing all the chores around the house.
She’d quickly made herself indispensable. Nothing was ever too much.
And Robert had let her.
Because he needed her, and he loved her. He’d finally allowed her into his life.
He felt the same way as she did, she was certain.
‘What’s this?’ Marie asked, dumping down the pack of braising steak on the kitchen side as she spotted the dirty crockery that had been abandoned in the sink. Picking up the plate, she stared at the remnants of what looked like a microwave meal. The last scrapings of bright orange sauce congealed to the plate.
‘I ate already,’ Robert said, not bothering to look up from the screen to see the scowl that he knew would be crossing Marie’s face.
Marie leant back against the sink. Her arms folded across her chest now.
‘But I said I was going to cook us a special meal,’ she said, annoyed. All the effort she’d gone to, walking all the way down to the 7-Eleven on the other side of the estate. Spending her hard-earned money on all the expensive ingredients, when she could have just picked up a poxy microwave meal.
And the fact that he hadn’t even bothered to give her a second thought.
He only ever thought about himself.
Oh, she knew what he was doing tonight.
He was trying to get rid of her.
This was all part of his little game. If he pissed her off enough, they’d have another row and then she’d scream at him and then he’d scream back. Demanding that she leave.
He always did that.
Demanded that she give him some space. Accusing her of being clingy and needy of his company.
His company.
The audacity of the man.
She steadied herself then before she spoke again. Took a few seconds, calming the swell of fury inside her.
‘You k
now I wanted to make you something nice. I told you this morning, didn’t I? That I was going to cook you something special. Something really nice.’
‘Well, I forgot, didn’t I?’ Robert spat, finally looking up from the screen. Interrupting the spiel that he knew was coming. ‘You’re not my keeper you know, Marie.’
He shook his head then, that irritated look back on his face that he seemed to wear so often these days.
Ignore it, she told herself. He doesn’t really mean what he’s saying. This is all part of his recovery. Part of pushing people away from him so that he won’t get hurt.
If only he’d realise that Marie would never hurt him.
She knew him, him and all of his funny little ways.
Always saying that he couldn’t breathe around her, that she was suffocating him.
This was what he did.
He said these horrible things to her because he loved her. That’s what they say, isn’t it? That you lash out at the people you loved the most.
And he must really love her the way he spoke to her sometimes.
But not as much as she loved him.
No one could love anything or anyone as much as Marie loved him, that would be physically impossible. Robert was her life.
Even if he had nothing nice to say to her, even if at times he treated her with such contempt. He couldn’t help it. He was stuck here, in this flat. Caged in. And Marie could see that he was in enormous pain.
The want and need inside of him, to find out who he was, where he really belonged.
He still didn’t get it, did he?
He belonged here with her.
She smiled then, patiently. Even though deep down, she didn’t feel very patient at all.
She wouldn’t let him get to her, not tonight, she resolved.
She wouldn’t let him ruin another evening.
‘Never mind. I’m sure by the time I cook the pie, you’ll be hungry enough.’ She turned her back on him then. Hiding the tears that threatened to fall.
She was being oversensitive. She would not cry.
She would not.
‘Did you get me my pills?’ he called out, but Marie didn’t answer, chopping up the onions loudly, pretending not to hear.
Typical. He acknowledged her now, didn’t he? Now that he wanted something from her.
The Forgotten_An absolutely gripping, gritty thriller novel Page 16