by Rob Sinclair
As my heart pounded in my chest and my whole body shook, I heard the blaring horn from the car I had passed, and its driver and passenger screaming expletives, as it overtook me. Then came the lorry, its thundering bulk slapping a waft of cool air into me.
I watched them head off toward the junction, just a couple of hundred yards in front. Just a few seconds away if only I’d had the nerve to keep on going. I hung my head down, dejected.
I’d bottled it. I’d failed. Again. I was a coward. What other explanation was there? I’d always been a coward and I always would be.
And my cowardliness had left me facing a path ahead that was bound to be more painful than the death I couldn’t face.
CHAPTER 6
‘Do you have any regrets?’ she asked.
The woman sitting across from me on the other side of the desk was in her early thirties, I guessed. She wore a navy-blue suit, an unpretentious blouse underneath. Her straight hair was tied back neatly and on the end of her nose was a pair of silver-rimmed glasses. She looked formal and stoic, yet her manner was pleasant and engaging.
Still, I didn’t answer her question for a good while. There was so much to consider before I could answer fully. Really, it was a closed question. A yes or no answer would have sufficed. Yet I knew that wasn’t what she wanted. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen her and it wouldn’t be the last. I was getting used to our sessions now. Used to her questions and her manner, and to me talking. She wanted me to open up, to tell her about my life and the things I’d done and give an explanation, some sort of reasoning. She said she was there for my benefit. To assess me. To help me. I wasn’t sure I trusted any of that. But I hadn’t held back. I’d given her what she wanted.
‘All of the things I did were me,’ I said at last.
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘If you put me into those situations again and again then ninety-nine times out of a hundred you’d get the same results. I can’t make excuses for my mistakes. Would I rather they hadn’t happened? Yes. I wish I could take back some of the things I’ve said and done in my life. Who doesn’t? But it was all me.’
‘I’m not sure that answers the question,’ she said, her tone more authoritative than it had been before. ‘Do you regret what you’ve done?’
‘You’re looking for a simple yes or no?’
‘It’s a simple question.’
‘But it’s not a simple answer.’
‘How so?’
‘I regret how my actions have had such an impact on those closest to me, yes. Do I wish I could change things? Of course. If I could go back and be a different person in every situation that has gone wrong in my life then I would. But I can’t do that. I wish I could, but I just can’t.’
‘So the answer is yes?’
‘The answer is: yes and no.’
‘Can you explain why?’
‘Yes I regret how my life has turned out. But no, I don’t regret all of the things I’ve done. They were … necessary.’
‘Necessary?’
‘Yes. I did what I had to do.’
CHAPTER 7
‘Are you fucking crazy?’ Gemma screamed.
Her berating me was understandable, under the circumstances – but the venom in her voice surprised me still. I was standing in the doorway to the lounge. She was across the room, standing by the fireplace. Even at that distance I felt myself cower at the ferocity of her voice, my tail well and truly between my legs. I knew there was simply no point in fighting this one. I was in too deep and I needed her help.
I had still been a shaking wreck when I’d finally had the guts to make my way back home. I wasn’t sure whether that was because of the perilous situation I’d put myself in out on the A38, or anxiety over what was now to come. Perhaps it was lingering regret for having failed to take my own life.
If Gemma had sensed my inner turmoil, she didn’t mention it. In fact, she’d simply gone into full attack mode the moment I’d laid my proposition out to her.
Not that I could really blame her for that.
‘I don’t know what else to do,’ I said meekly.
‘Just what trouble have you got yourself in this time?’
‘This time?’
‘Damn it, Ben, it was a figure of speech. You need to tell me everything. The truth. Who is he?’
Where to start? I mean, so much of the story was fucked up. I didn’t know how to explain my relationship with O’Brady to Gemma, let alone how I’d pretty much thrown away our life savings with that thug.
But I had no other option than to tell her something.
‘He’s a businessman,’ I said.
‘Oh yeah, of course he is. And I’m the fucking Queen.’
‘To me you are,’ I said, managing an unconvincing smile.
‘Not the time for lame jokes, Ben. How the hell do you owe a thug like that so much money?’
‘It was a business deal. It didn’t go well.’
‘Gambling? Did you lose all of our money gambling?’
‘No! Of course not.’
That would have been a simple explanation: losing the money gambling and borrowing from O’Brady to fuel a die-hard habit. Certainly easier to explain than the murky and trouble-riddled relationship I’d built up with O’Brady over the years.
‘You know that’s not me, Gemma. I was doing this for us.’
‘So? What was it?’
‘It was a property deal. A development. You know I’ve always been interested in doing that. I should have told you, I know, but … I don’t know why I didn’t. I was scared you wouldn’t want me to go through with it. And I wanted to surprise you when it was done.’
‘Yeah well, you’ve certainly done that.’
‘O’Brady and I both put money in. It didn’t go well. We both lost. But … I guess he lost more.’
‘So how do you owe him money? If you’ve both lost money on some crappy development, that should be the end of it.’
‘It’s hard to explain.’
‘Try me, Ben. If you want my help, you’re going to have to try me.’
‘He says it’s my fault it went wrong. He says I owe him for his losses.’
‘Was it your fault?’
‘No. I don’t know. Maybe. Either way, he’s not the sort of man to argue the toss with.’
Gemma gave me a blank stare. I held her gaze, not knowing what else to do or say. Well, I could tell her more, but I was certain that wouldn’t help my position. I knew that the more details I gave, the more of the mess I revealed, the less likely it was that she’d help.
Eventually she shook her head and looked away.
‘How the hell did you even meet a man like that?’ she said.
I was quite impressed that she’d read O’Brady for the scumbag he was. From what I’d gathered, he’d been on the doorstep for less than five minutes. Gemma hadn’t even invited him into the house, her naturally suspicious instincts on high alert. Luckily for her – and for me – O’Brady had been accommodating of her lack of accommodation. I was sure if he visited again, she wouldn’t get away with such a slight. O’Brady was a dangerous, violent and vindictive man. Even in the brief time he’d been on our doorstep, Gemma had figured out just what a slimy character he was.
‘Ben?’
‘I don’t know. It just happened,’ I said.
‘Oh yeah. I’ve heard that one before.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing.’
‘No, it’s something. What does that mean? When I have I ever let you or the kids down before?’
Whatever she could say of me, my love and devotion for my children was one hundred per cent unwavering.
‘Forget it,’ Gemma said. ‘This isn’t the time. We need to figure this mess out first.’
‘This mess? Like there’s more?’
‘Just stop!’ she shouted. ‘Look at us! Look at the way we are! Always fighting, always on each other’s backs. Just drop it. I can’t
keep living like this.’ She moved away from the fireplace and slumped down onto the armchair by the bay window, her head in her hands.
‘I know,’ I said, frozen in the doorway. ‘I’m sorry. It will get better.’
‘When?’ she said, lifting up her head, her eyes teary.
‘Soon. But we need to get that money. Seriously, Gemma, we need that money tomorrow. These guys aren’t messing about. I’ve seen what they’re capable of.’
‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me before,’ she said. ‘Why have you kept this to yourself? We could have prevented all of this.’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
‘Are you?’
‘Yes. I really am.’
She sighed, wiping at her tears with the sleeve of her jumper. I made to go over to her. I wanted to hold her and comfort her. But as I stepped forward, she held up a hand to stop me.
‘Don’t,’ she said.
I stayed where I was. My heart thudded in my chest with anticipation as I awaited her next words.
‘I’ll do it,’ she said. She closed her eyes and turned away from me. ‘What choice do I have? I can’t have those men coming to the house again. What if the kids had been in? We need this to be over.’
‘Honey, thank you so much,’ I said, striding up to her. Before she had the chance to protest I leaned over, grabbed her with both arms and pulled her into me. I’m not sure it was exactly a loving hug – I was consumed with relief more than anything – and I couldn’t help but feel a fraud because of that, even though my next words to her were genuine. ‘I love you. I really do.’
‘Yeah,’ was all she said to that. ‘Where’s my phone?’
I grabbed her mobile from the mantelpiece and handed it to her, then stood straight, watching over her, willing her to make the call.
I stared as she scrolled through the contacts list. I could feel my hands shaking, my legs too, as adrenaline rushed through me. Only then, in that moment, when Gemma was about to come to my rescue, did I realise just how far the situation had spiralled and how close to the bottom I’d come. But this was it, the turning point. If we could just get through this one, things would finally be on the up.
The phone was to her ear. I waited with baited breath so that I’d be able to hear the muted blips of the dial tone followed by the familiar voice. The tension was unbearable.
But I should have known better. I should have known that life wouldn’t ever work out that smoothly for me.
Before the call had connected, there was loud knock on the front door. Frustration gripped me when I saw Gemma pull the phone away from her ear and press the red button to stop the call. Barely a split-second later, though, I was overwhelmed with anxiety. Because there was a much more immediate concern.
Who the hell was at the door?
Gemma was clearly thinking the same thing. She was staring at me, her eyes wide in fear, her mouth open.
‘Is that …?’
She didn’t need to finish the sentence. I knew she was thinking the same thing I was: O’Brady.
‘He said I had two days,’ I said, willing the scumbag to have kept to his word. But could I really trust him?
I knew the answer to that. No, I couldn’t. Not at all.
‘Oh yeah, ’cos he seemed like a really genuine bloke to me,’ Gemma said.
‘He wouldn’t come again,’ I said, wishing my words to be true. If he really was back at the house … well, I didn’t even want to think about what that could mean. ‘I told him he couldn’t come here again.’
‘You’re not filling me with much confidence here, Ben.’
Three more knocks on the door. Heavy knocks. Purposeful. I could feel my heart jerk with each thud.
I walked over to the window and lifted the edge of the curtain to peek out. From the bay window of the lounge I wasn’t able to see the front door, but I could see the car parked on the street beyond our driveway.
On seeing it I knew without doubt who was out there.
‘Ben, let’s just call the police,’ I heard Gemma say from behind me.
I let go of the curtain and it flopped back into place. I stared at the closed drapes for a few seconds, then hung my head down, my brain spinning with thoughts of what to do next.
‘Ben?’
I turned, avoiding eye contact with Gemma, but I saw that she was standing too, directly in front of me. I edged past her toward the lounge door.
‘I’m calling the police,’ Gemma said. ‘We have to. It’s the only way.’
I was just about at the door. I stopped and turned. Gemma had the phone in her hand and was doing her best with shaky fingers to key in the short number.
‘No, Gemma. Don’t,’ I said.
Her hand froze and she looked up at me. Her face was a weary mess. She looked broken, defeated. She’d known Callum O’Brady for all of five minutes and this was what his presence had done to her.
That’s how I’ve felt for years, I thought.
‘Ben, they can help us. We have to call the police.’
‘There’s no need to call the police,’ I said to her, my voice calmer than it had been moments earlier. ‘They’re already here.’
CHAPTER 8
I opened the front door and stared at the woman on the other side. A woman I recognised. A woman I knew so well that just seeing her sent my mind into overdrive.
She wore a smart cream blouse tucked into tight-fitting navy suit trousers. Her silky brown hair was straight and held back in a ponytail. Her unblemished face had just the faintest traces of make-up on it. An altogether formal look, but she carried it off well. She was pretty, I’d always thought that, and with her penetrating chestnut eyes she had an aura of confidence about her.
I stared at her for a couple of seconds without saying a word. Then, like a computer synchronising, a sudden rush of memories raced through my brain: all the times we’d spent together, everything we’d gone through – the good, the bad and the ugly. This was a person to whom I was inexplicably connected. And yet there was an uneasy distance between us now. There had been for years.
‘Hello, Ben,’ the woman said. My sister. My twin.
‘Dani, come in.’
I felt Gemma’s presence behind me.
‘Dani!’ she beamed, brushing past me and giving my sister a tight hug.
Dani’s cheeks blushed red and she gave me a sheepish smile. It was certainly the warmest welcome she’d ever had at our house. If only she’d known the turmoil that had been going through mine and Gemma’s minds just moments before, she might have understood the overly warm embrace from my wife.
Or maybe she did know? Maybe that was why she was there?
I wasn’t sure whether I wanted that to be the case or not.
‘Long time no see,’ Dani said to me when Gemma let her go.
Her voice – authoritative and with a slight huskiness to it – matched her formal appearance. She may have been pretty but she was far from a dainty lady. I leaned over and gave my sister a brief hug, awkward and clumsy on both our parts. Gemma ushered Dani into the lounge.
‘It’s good to see you, Dani,’ I said, coming into the room behind them. ‘I mean, Detective Sergeant Stephens.’
‘You too, Ben,’ she said, taking a seat on the armchair on which Gemma had moments earlier been sobbing. ‘Although it’s Detective Inspector now, you know. I got promoted a while back.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘I hadn’t realised.’
‘Yeah well, it’s been a long time.’
‘Yeah, I guess it has.’
‘So what brings you here?’ Gemma said, sounding more happy and relaxed than she had done in an age. She’d always got along well enough with Dani, although the two of them had never been real friends. I hadn’t seen Dani for nearly four years and Gemma was acting like her sudden appearance was the most normal thing in the world.
‘Oh, you know,’ said Dani. ‘Thought it was about time I had a catch-up with Ben. Water under the bridge and all that.’
&nb
sp; ‘Yeah. About bloody time,’ Gemma said.
I was becoming annoyed by Gemma’s happy and calm manner. She knew my relationship with Dani was anything but straightforward. A lot of unspoken angst lay between us siblings – regret too – built up over a long time. I loved Dani, of course I did; we were twins. But there were plenty of reasons we were never going to be best friends. Her turning up out of the blue was, in many ways, a nice surprise, and I was glad of the brief intervention in what had been a crappy day. But letting her back into our lives was a big and not-so-simple ask. If that was even what she wanted.
Gemma looked over at me and twigged when I gave her a prompting look. She got to her feet. ‘Would you like a drink, Dani?’ she asked. ‘Tea, coffee? Wine?’
‘Oh, I’d love a glass of wine, but I’m still technically on duty.’
‘Of course,’ Gemma said. ‘Don’t want you getting into trouble. Soft drink then?’
‘Coffee would be great. Black.’
‘Me too, please,’ I said to Gemma as she headed to the door and out the room.
I watched Dani as she looked around the room, as if gauging what had changed since her last visit. I wasn’t sure whether her lack of eye contact with me was deliberate or not.
‘This isn’t a social visit then?’ I asked.
‘Yes and no,’ she said.
I waited for further elaboration but it didn’t come. ‘So?’ I said.
‘Let me just get settled in first,’ she said, looking over at me. ‘It’s been a long time, Ben. It’s really good to see you.’
‘You’re right. It has. And it is.’
‘How are the kids?’
‘They’re great.’
‘That’s it?’
‘Well, what do you want me to say? If you were that interested, you could come and see them every now and then.’
‘Yeah, because you’ve always made me so welcome.’