Her Greatest Mistake

by Sarah Simpson

  ‘He has an accomplice, maybe?’

  ‘I’ve thought about this, but…’

  ‘You are aware, he’s been involved with someone else for some time?’ Billy interrupted

  ‘Gregg? No. I doubt it.’ Billy is nodding slowly. ‘Who?’

  ‘There isn’t a lot I don’t know about him.’ He looks out of the window, whilst turning his heavy watch over and over his wrist.

  ‘Please understand, nothing you may tell me can possibly surprise me or hurt me. Trust me on this. What is it you know?’

  ‘He’s been seeing someone for quite a while.’

  ‘What, as in, another woman?’

  Billy nods.

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘Long enough.’

  ‘I’m assuming by that look on you face, you mean, while we were married?’ I spit the last word out, a bone in my throat; it mocks the concept beyond recognition.

  He nods at me. ‘Yeah, I believe so, certainly before Jack was born.’

  ‘You’re serious?’

  ‘For most of the time you were together.’

  ‘Wow, you’ve surprised me. Really? Jesus, that does surprise me.’

  ‘Sorry to be the bearer of—’

  ‘Don’t be, really, I couldn’t care less. It’s just, I can’t see it, didn’t see it.’ If only I’d known, maybe I could have left earlier. This premise brings bile to my throat. ‘On reflection, I didn’t see many things. Despite my scrutiny. So? Who was it, someone from work?’

  He shakes his head. ‘Not to my knowledge. I’m pretty sure she didn’t work in the same arena as him. But she did go on to work for him, in Spain. Some kind of administrator, I suppose he’d call it.’

  ‘I see, well, I wouldn’t have known her, then.’

  ‘Samantha Holloway, her name was – or is, I should say. As far as I know, they’re still together. In fact, they’ve a daughter too.’

  My head floats to the ceiling, before falling with a thump to the floor. I’m struggling to accept this information. I’d thought you couldn’t surprise me again. I was so wrong. How could she? Even with the note on the back of the article, never would I have believed this possible. ‘Are you sure? Definitely, the correct name?’

  ‘Yep. Positive. Why, do you know her?’

  ‘So, you don’t know everything?’

  How could she? She hated you, tried to talk me out of marrying you. Refused to have any further contact with me pretty much, if I was with you. Now, I know why. The truth. You hated her. I didn’t see through it. All these years, feeling so incredibly guilty, believing I’d betrayed her. Let her down. Forced to choose you, over her, yet it was her who chose you over me. I’ve despised myself for lying to her, when the truth was she was lying to me. I’m aware of my cheeks colouring, in line with my blood pressure.

  ‘Eve, you okay?’

  ‘Sorry.’ I sip tepid coffee. ‘It’s shocked me somewhat. I knew her. We were best friends from school. I let our relationship go, mostly because I hated having to lie to her, in the way I felt I had to, to everyone. Didn’t want her entangled in our disgusting marriage. All of my relationships, back then, were built on layers of deception. Sam asked too many questions, used to make me squirm. I never wanted to deceive her. I’m such an idiot.’

  He shakes his head, sighing. ‘Bloody hell, I’m sorry, I’d no idea.’ He leans forward. ‘But can you see – maybe he does have an accomplice after all?’

  ‘Yes, maybe, shit, I really can’t believe it.’ I contemplate the bar, craving something stronger to swallow. ‘You’re right, maybe the flowers were her doing. God, how could she?’ I let the thought drift – how did I not notice? Perception, always perception, never the truth. I believed in her because I needed to. Based on what I thought I knew. ‘The flowers, the note, he made her send them, prove her allegiance, she felt guilty, hence – sorry?’

  ‘Sounds plausible.’

  ‘But it still doesn’t explain the envelope, does it? In part it does.’ I pull the folded photocopied sheet of A4 from my pocket, and begin to unravel it. ‘Here, on the back,’ I read aloud,

  Eve,

  I didn’t want to have to send this, being so ashamed. And you must hate me, I understand completely. But I wanted you to know, something is going on, something to do with these articles I found. I’m worried you’re in danger. If it is any consolation at all, I too am very scared, terrified. It’s too late for me, I’ve made my bed, so to speak. But, I wanted to warn you, without making matters worse. I hope one day you will understand, be able to forgive me.

  DO NOT ATTEMPT TO MAKE CONTACT. PLEASE.

  Sam x

  I place the note, for Billy to see. ‘Without context, when I read this, I didn’t see it. I assumed she was apologising, feeling guilty for her part in our friendship falling apart. Although I couldn’t quite understand how she knew about him, his actions. Thought, maybe, he’d contacted her, to find me, threatened her? Now I can see gaping holes in my interpretation, but without context nothing makes sense, does it?’

  ‘It doesn’t, no. And you wanted to think the best of her too.’

  ‘She’s taken my place, hasn’t she? She’s trapped, terrified. Yet it’s still me he seeks. She was probably only ever another one of his tools, a side prop. How much has he relished forcing her to send me sick flowers, amongst other things, spying on me?’

  A reel of information parked in my subconscious plays through my mind: the woman with the sunglasses I bumped into in Truro? Some vague recollection of Ruan, talking about someone watching the clinic, receiving a parking ticket. The cancelled appointment, again, a woman, some excuse about her partner insisting, oh, Jesus, insisting on her accompanying him – to meet with his son. Jack? Dear God, Jack? Why didn’t I listen to Ruan? She was attempting to warn me. ‘But still, how did this—’ I stab at the dirty scrap of paper ‘—get into my briefcase?’

  ‘Does anyone else have access? Think, any access at all, to your home or your briefcase, other than your work colleagues and Jack?’

  I shake my head. ‘No.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘To my home, no. Well, there’s Gloria next door – she has a key. But it can’t have anything to do with her.’ But then, why not? So far, it appears, I’ve only seen what I needed to see, but even so. Not lovely Gloria.

  ‘Can you be 100 per cent sure, Eve? Even now, with this latest revelation? Samantha Holloway is in the UK, by the way.’ He twists his watch clockwise once, twice. ‘I have the photos to prove it.’

  ‘I’ve seen her too. I just, didn’t see her.’

  ‘Did you know she’s been to St Agnes… near your home?’

  I flash back to seeing Gloria in conversation with a glamorous-looking woman last week. Only glimpsing the woman from behind. Purposely lowering my head, avoiding conversation. Then, Gloria’s comment from a couple of days ago patters through my jumbled mind – ‘A nice surprise, was it, love?’ I assumed she was referring to the cake she’d left for us. Thinking about it now, she often leaves us treats; she’s never remarked upon it before, being such a giving person.

  Billy and I walk in silence to my car. His parting words ricochet around the cortical regions. ‘Eve, I want him for myself. I intend, or should I say need, to have my time with him. I’ve waited a long enough.’ I want to say maybe it is too late, that we don’t always get what we wish for. Until I think better of it. He looks on as I close my car door.

  I need to have my moment in time too, if I find you first. This time, I need to see for my own eyes that it’s over.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Before

  I had no choice that night, with you holding Jack, a piece of meat dangling in your arms. You punched me to the side of my head; I crumbled to inflexible concrete. By the time I looked up, you were strapping Jack into your car. Then I was yanked to my feet, walked forwards, my arm bent behind my back, as you opened the passenger door. ‘Would you care to join us after all?’ A beaming smile, displaying near perfect te
eth. My blood cooled to icy temperatures. It wasn’t an option; I had to accept.

  I had reason to be terrified. A voice whispered in my ear – this was to be different, unlike all those other lessons. We were divorced, for one. I’d finally said NO to you. No one said NO to you. Had you finally lost control? Were they emotions I saw carved through your expression? Felt, not used? A malfunctioning, out-of-control robot, with no off switch.

  In silence, we drove further into the depths of the sparsely populated Cotswolds. No one to disturb us; you’d thought this through. Unremitting rain, perilous lanes. Dark and antagonistic. Abandoned by light. My clammy hands gripping the cold leather seat, pure fear pinning me back. None of us uttering a word.

  Finally, you swung the car into the side of the bramble. Only the ticking of hot engine between us. You released your seat belt, swivelling to face me. Jack silenced, squashed behind. My panicked form caused a smile on your face as you ran a manicured finger over the curves of my cheekbone. First on the left, then, without a word, on the right. I clasped my hands together, to hide the shaking; conscious of showing – I wasn’t composed but also not flustered. Either could have been costly.

  You spoke to me. ‘This needn’t take long, need it? Needn’t be too painful.’ You paused to tuck an escaped tress gently behind my ear. ‘You know what I need from you. Give it to me, then we can move on. I’m prepared to allow you this one last chance, Eve. One chance is all you have. My flash-drive – I know you stole it,’ you said. ‘You’ve surprised me. A thief, you – even I didn’t appreciate the depths you’d sink to. Even I thought you were better than that. You never do really know anyone, do you? A thief?’

  My heart hammered. ‘Are you scared, Eve? Come on, you’re with me now.’ Your breath, misting the surface of my skin. ‘Didn’t I always tell you – I’d take care of everything?’ You traced your finger from my chin bone to my throat. ‘Remember, those good old days?’

  Your lips slightly on the upturn, how your face lied. ‘You know, Eve, I am asking you out of politeness more than anything; however, you really have no choice here. Perhaps give a thought to Jack. Possibly, he’s seen enough, don’t you think?’ You angled your head to smile at Jack, as I sensed him squashing his angelic form further back into his seat.

  You snorted, moving your finger from my throat, pressing a fist into my seat. I resisted the pull of leaning closer to you. ‘Considering those many lessons you made me teach you.’ You shook your head. ‘Really sad. Could all have been avoided.’

  You sick, sick bastard.

  ‘Or does your twisted little mind believe I wanted to punish you?’

  I dared not speak. I didn’t trust myself. I tensed the muscles in my legs in an attempt to conceal their trembling.

  ‘Eve? Time is running out. Make your decision.’ You smiled. ‘Please.’

  I rummaged through a fogged mind. My trump card was the flash-drive. I needed to think, and quickly, but the intelligent parts of my brain had deserted me. How to get Jack and me safely out of the car without handing over the trump card? Once away from you, it could be our only security against you. My secret weapon. I could feel my mobile digging into me, in the back pocket of my jeans. My number was already linked to the police Quick Response database. Their idea of reassurance when the detailed notes of your repetitive battering was eventually forced to light

  You clicked your fingers in front of my nose. ‘Eve?’

  ‘The flash-drive, yes, I’ve got it at home,’ I said.

  ‘I know,’ you said. ‘So, how are you going to do this? Are you going to behave yourself? Let me have back what’s mine? I’m prepared to let the matter pass this time. If you behave.’

  I knew this would never be the case. You would never leave us alone, especially if I no longer held what you wanted. Your dark, opaque eyes looked through me. You had no lucent windows to your soul, did you? Only void panels, obscuring the cogs.

  You tapped my leg. I flinched. ‘After all this, shall we say…’ you waved your hand ‘… misunderstanding? Perhaps you should consider seeking some help. Psychological help?’

  I knew your game, trying to rile me. I locked my tongue to the roof of my mouth. I’d never thought of myself as a killer, but given the chance…

  ‘I, amongst others,’ you said, ‘can see you’re sick, Eve, mentally unstable.’ You guffawed. ‘How paradoxical. An insane psychologist.’

  Rebound your repulsive words, I told myself. Play the game.

  I nodded. ‘You may have a point,’ I said. ‘Perhaps I would benefit from some help.’

  ‘At last, she speaks words of sense.’ You spun to Jack. ‘Did you hear that, Jack? Your mother has admitted she’s deranged. Should have recorded those priceless words. Damn.’ You slapped your thigh, laughing. ‘Could have used it, couldn’t we, Jack?’

  Again, I fantasised beating my ex-husband to a pulp. ‘I shouldn’t have taken the flash-drive,’ I said.

  ‘My flash-drive.’

  ‘Your flash-drive. It was wrong. I see this now.’

  So accomplished at reading your eyes, I saw the transition from ridicule to one of self-pity. Betrayed, you were accepting my spurious words. I couldn’t allow you to indulge; it could backfire. Submissions, apologies might strengthen my case but pleas and begging would destroy it. Conductor of a psychopathic orchestra, listening and watching, each and every change in tone. A game of chess, but, like the pawn, one step forward in the wrong direction, I’d be taken.

  Could you smell my fear? I could.

  ‘I’ll take you home,’ you said. ‘Stay by your side, all the time, until I have the flash-drive in my hand. Jack will remain in the car. You see; I simply cannot trust you, Eve. Far too many lies. Such a waste. Really. We could have been something together.’

  ‘Yes.’ I nod.

  ‘You’ve learned your lesson, I hope.’

  We waited in cold silence for the windscreen to demist, before retreating. My mind racing with the dark jagged shrubbery hurtling past. My heart pumping against the tightness of the seat belt.

  ‘How is your friend Sam?’ you asked.

  ‘I don’t see her anymore.’

  ‘No. Of course, you don’t. I forgot. Another lesson learned, I suppose. Shame, I always liked her. Different, from you.’

  No, you didn’t, I thought, you hated her. You couldn’t have made it more obvious. My heart ached. Why didn’t I try harder? I’d missed her so much.

  I subtly rolled in my seat, straining to get a glimpse of Jack. Somehow, he’d fallen asleep. Exhausted by heightened emotions. I regarded his pale innocent skin, pocket-sized pudgy hands. My poor, beautiful Jack. He didn’t deserve this. We travelled on, a family in serene silence. Son, peaceful in sleep, Dad, humming the tune of rightfulness, Mum, deep in her imagination. From the outside in we were the perfect little unit, fitting the expectations of society seamlessly. Passing by undetected.

  Time was trickling away. I needed help, to send a text before it was too late; once we were back at the house, it would be too late. With no choice, my only hope, I’d to ask permission to send a message to alert the police. The acerbic taste of bile. In silence, I practised a calm, subservient voice. I need to text… No, I mustn’t state my needs. I’m just going to… No, I’d be dictating to you. One, two and three…

  ‘Gregg. I’m sorry to have to bring this up, but…’ You changed gear, without acknowledgment. ‘I’ve a friend popping by later.’ I felt you tense. ‘I was thinking, I should put her off? We didn’t arrange a fixed time. I mean, she could arrive, unannounced, any time soon.’

  You sighed through your nose, your diagnostic brain ticking over.

  ‘You have your mobile with you?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Send her a text, cancel. Now.’

  With my heart in my throat, I reached for my mobile. And began typing my message with timorous fingers, the screen angled slightly away from you, but not enough to make you suspicious. Holding my breath, I hit send, then hurriedly re
turned my phone to my back pocket.

  Your eyes were transfixed on the road.

  The first trickle of sweat escaped through my hairline as an evocative atmosphere pinched the air. Pure terror. Your fingers began to tap, tap on the steering wheel. Over and over.

  You held out your left hand. ‘Show me. The text, Eve.’

  I inhaled sharply as my body became weightless.

  ‘Eve. Your mobile.’ Your finger jabbed at my ribs. ‘Now.’

  As of old, I did as I was told. Panicked hands fumbling for my back pocket.

  I knew it had been too easy. I placed the mobile into your resolute hand.

  Your eyes wandered over the screen. You shook your head; the beginnings of a leer caught your lips.

  Was this our end?

  You thrusted down a gear, accelerating deeper into the darkness. Trees looming, closer and closer. Seconds spiteful in the pretext as hours. The stench of burning rubber. The acrid bouquet of hot engine. The screeching of tyres. The shrieking of my child. The din of crimpling metal. The clatter of shattering glass. The cry of my child.

  All became black.

  Nothing but black.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Cornwall 2016

  My heartbeat disturbs me. I open my eyes; blackness is everywhere. I hold my hands up in front of me. I see nothing. I pinch my thumb and index fingers together; I have feeling though. I lie still and listen to my heart beating in my ears. Droplets of sweat, between me and the sheets.