by Sue Watson
Harry and I waited, parked on the road, until the police arrived, assuming Alex would still be further down the road where Harry left him. But when they got there, the police couldn’t find him, and said he must have made a run for it. Until the next day, when a body was recovered by a lifeboat crew at the bottom of Salcombe Cliffs. Harry said he just knew the way he was talking that he’d come to the end, but although I knew he was desperate, the shock of hearing Alex had taken his own life still left me feeling sad and guilty. I never realised just how troubled or tormented he was. I thought I loved him, but I didn’t really know him. I just wish I could have helped him.
It’s been so difficult and sad trying to sort out Alex’s life in death. Each day I learn something else about him, proving how little I really knew him. Sadly, it seems that I’m the closest person to him, as he would have been the closest to me. We were little more than children without roots, both searching for a family and a home, and believing we’d found that in each other.
I found details for his sister, Lara, and invited her and anyone else from his family to come along to the funeral. Lara wrote back to me saying he’d been deeply affected by the death of their mother and had always struggled emotionally. She said her father was too ill to attend the funeral, and she couldn’t leave him so neither would be there. This broke my heart, to think the closest person at his funeral would be me, someone he knew for less than a year.
The funeral was horrible, and to make it worse, throughout the service I was aware of Helen standing like the black widow at the back of the church. I barely heard the vicar’s words, I just wanted to get it over with. I was terrified she might blame me for his death and have some fresh vendetta against me. The last thing I needed was the vengeful ex-wife hunting me down.
Me, Jas, Harry – and of course Helen – were the only people at the funeral, which was heart-breaking. Even Alex’s former colleagues didn’t come along. Again, the fact he was wanted for the death of a young man didn’t exactly have them flocking to celebrate his life, or commiserate his death. I understand that, but still, it was upsetting to think his life had meant so little to so few.
After the funeral, Jas stood by me like a security guard as Helen approached. I held my breath, dreading a confrontation.
‘So you’re Hannah,’ she said, holding out her hand.
I cautiously offered mine and we smiled awkwardly.
‘Thanks for coming.’ I shrugged, not really knowing what to say.
‘I know Alex could be a little – impulsive, but I was surprised to hear about what happened. I mean, suicide? It’s just not him, he always had such optimism… blind optimism really. How does someone like Alex take his own life?’ she said, confused.
‘Yes, it’s shocking what darkness people have inside,’ I said, amazed that Helen appeared to be so warm and friendly.
‘I hope all that stupidness with you has stopped now?’ Jas went straight in, no subtleties.
‘What? I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Helen replied.
I don’t know how good an actress she is, so I wasn’t sure if her confusion was real.
‘The roses with the note, the heavy-breathing phone calls, the threats you made about hurting me,’ I said. ‘I understand, I know you wanted him back, but you made my life a misery, Helen… and his too.’
She clutched her chest, a look of absolute horror on her face. ‘Oh, Hannah, you have this all wrong,’ she said, shaking her head vigorously. ‘I never made any threats, or calls…roses?’
‘But you told him… you chased me through Worcester… you called out my name, you—’
‘Yes, because I wanted to talk to you.’ She still seems completely blindsided, and she’s either a brilliant actress – or she’s telling the truth.
‘You invited him for lunch, told him that you still had feelings… didn’t you?’ I ask, not sure any more.
‘Yes. I’d asked Alex if he and I could meet for lunch a few months ago, but not because I wanted to get back with him. God no. I was relieved when he said he’d met someone, he showed me photos of you on his phone, he seemed so happy. I didn’t want him back. He was a good guy, kind and caring – but too caring, he wanted all of me, and what started as a lovely relationship became claustrophobic.’
I listen, realising she felt the same as me, she too had been seduced by his apparent warmth and kindness into a relationship she didn’t want.
‘He became too controlling, so possessive,’ she said. ‘I hate to say it given the circumstances, but I never wanted to see him again after I’d walked out – I had to escape, some of my clothes were still in the wardrobe. I just ran.’
It reminded me of how I felt that day in the cottage. I just ran too.
‘So when you saw me in Worcester that day, why did you want to talk to me?’ I asked.
‘I thought you might be able to help by convincing him to move out of the house.’
I don’t understand, and must look puzzled as she suddenly smiles, ‘Ah, I get it… he had to make you think I wanted him back and I was threatening you. He had to make you scared of me because he didn’t want to risk us ever talking.’
‘’I don’t understand…’
‘He was hiding stuff from you, he did the same with me.’
‘Yes, he wasn’t always completely honest…but why did you want me to get him to sell the house?’ I asked, still not sure I believed what she was saying.
She shook her head. ‘It wasn’t about selling the house – my friend wanted her house back.’
‘But he bought the house from you when you split.’
Again, Helen shook her head, and rolled her eyes. ‘No, the house wasn’t ours, it belongs to my friend from uni. She had this great job working abroad and let me rent it from her while she was away, but then I left Alex, and she allowed him to continue to rent it on his own. She didn’t want the hassle of re-letting, especially to someone she didn’t know. Besides, he was the perfect tenant. She knew he wouldn’t trash the place; quite the opposite, he was a neat freak. So while she was away he was the perfect tenant – all her stuff was in that house, you see. Her crockery, photos – even her books – we were just staying there, really. We didn’t buy a stick of furniture. Probably as well, because when we split up there was nothing to share, no mine and yours and messy money matters, just the divorce.
Anyway, my friend’s job ended at the start of November, and she moved back to the UK and wanted to move back in, but he’d refused. So I arranged to meet Alex that day to tell him he had to move out – it was all rather embarrassing, her being my friend and all. Thing is, she’d already been round a few times, and he wouldn’t even open the door. He’d not only changed the locks, he’d put double locks on everything, even the garage. My friend knows some dodgy people who’d have made mincemeat of Alex, but despite several threats he just refused to move out. But when I saw him, he said you loved the house and he wanted to stay there for you. I had a feeling he might have told you it was his, which is why I hoped that, if I could catch you in Worcester that day, I could ask you to get involved, make him move out. But typical Alex wanted to make everything perfect even if it was all a façade – he was desperate to make a nest, even if it wasn’t his nest to make.’
I was shocked at the revelation. I realise now that the phone calls, the notes, were all Alex trying to scare me off contacting Helen. Perhaps even the earlier incidents before I knew of her existence, the smell of perfume in my car and the roses, were him preparing the ground, planning to set her up as the jealous ex.
This also explained why he always double-locked the front door when we were home, why he was looking through the glass that first night I went for dinner. Later I’d assumed it was because he was worried Helen ‘our stalker’ might turn up on the doorstep. But I believe Helen, and looks like he was scared the house owner would send someone to evict him, or hurt him even.
‘We should have talked sooner Helen.’
‘He wouldn’t have all
owed that.’ She smiled. ‘It seems like every moment was meticulously planned in his relationships with both of us.
‘Even after I’d left he still couldn’t let you go,’ I said, knowing if he’d lived he wouldn’t have given up on me easily. I told her about him using a phone app to know where we both were at all times, and how he’d listened to my list of likes and used them on our first date.
‘Yeah, that’s Alex.’ She nodded. ‘Creepy that he knew where we were, but he had to keep us apart, he was living so many lies. He was like a blank canvas, and it may sound harsh but when I was with him, he never seemed to have his own thoughts, opinions, just seemed to echo mine. He even started drinking gin because that’s what I drank, he said it was “our” drink, but I once overheard him telling a friend that he loathed gin.’
I thought about ‘our’ drink, the bottles of Merlot we shared and he professed to love, and wondered again if anything about Alex was real.
‘He seemed like the perfect partner at first.’ She sighed. ‘We had some good times, but looking back, from early on I felt like he was testing my feelings for him.’
I thought for a moment and realised what she meant. ‘Yeah, our first date was wonderful, but he made me wait before he asked me on a second date, not long, just enough to introduce some doubt,’ I said as a memory came flooding back. ‘And he was late for our second date, and I had to wait ages in the freezing rain.’
‘Yep, that was Alex.’ She smiled. ‘I mean what a test – keeping you waiting in bad weather, just to see if you like him enough to stay. He was probably watching you from across the street.’
‘God, now you come to mention it – he said “where’s your umbrella?” like he knew I’d had one while I was waiting for him. So he must have been hanging around,’ I said, surprised at the lengths he went to.
‘That is classic Alex,’ she said. ‘He kept me waiting at the registry office, and let slip later he’d been there an hour before. Just his way of making sure he’d really got you.’ She chuckled at the memory.
‘I think it was because he felt he wasn’t good enough, that he couldn’t believe anyone really cared about him, like he wasn’t good enough,’ I said.
‘Oh, Alex – he wanted so much to please, didn’t he? I think it stemmed from his childhood, his mum died when he was young, his father was very cruel, you know.’
I nodded, acknowledging this flake of truth in the middle of all the lies, and I’ll never forget Helen suddenly looking serious, and touching my arm. ‘But Hannah, you know what? I loved him, and in spite of everything, there’ll always be a little place in my heart where Alex is.’
And we both smiled at each other in recognition of this, because, in the end, Alex just wanted what any of us want, to love and be loved – he just went about it the wrong way. His lies were usually an attempt to make things seem better, but in the end they just caused more hurt.
Sadly, I’ve discovered even more of Alex’s lies since his death. It turns out that he wasn’t actually a lawyer, he was a legal assistant and he’d been let go from his job just a few weeks after we met. It seemed he lost focus, made some mistakes and regularly didn’t turn up for work without even letting them know. I often wondered how he’d found the time to work on complex legal cases and still cook lavish meals when I came home in the evening, but it seems he’d basically abandoned his job to look after me. With no income in his last few months, he died owing a fortune in credit cards, spending on extravagant dinners out, the renovated gym garage, home office, and romantic weekend away. It makes me sad to think he did all that for me, I always wanted someone who cared, but Alex cared too much.
Saying goodbye to Alex was hard, and I miss him, but I don’t miss the constant texts and calls, the way he seemed to dislike all my friends, was jealous of anyone I gave attention to.
‘He really didn’t like me, did he?’ Jas said the other day.
‘You never liked him either,’ I pointed out. ‘I know you were only looking out for me, but I used to be irritated by your comments about red flags and always saying I should be careful. Somehow you saw through him, I guess you were far more intuitive than I was,’ I said, but then again, I was in love, and love is blind. I saw nothing until it was too late.
I’ve never told Jas what Alex said about her trying to kiss him. I feel like there’s no point in bringing it up now, it will only hurt her. We’re rebuilding our friendship now and besides, I trust Jas again, I doubt very much she came onto my boyfriend, it’s not what best friends do. Me and Jas are as strong as ever and we’re back on the Porn Star Martinis every Tuesday night down The Orange Tree – though we’re not doing any online dating for now.
After Devon, I even spent Christmas with Jas. It was a little difficult, thinking about how things could have been with Alex, but Jas did her best to take my mind off things. And work too has been keeping me busy. I go to the hospital every day to check in on Chloe. After Alex’s death, seeing Chloe is still a struggle, but I’m determined to be there for her. Carol, her mum, seems to have gone back to her old ways now Pete’s back on the scene and checks in maybe once a week, so I feel even more committed to being there for Chloe. I know it’s going to be a long road back for her, and she’s going to need someone by her side, someone who isn’t going to let her down or walk away. Alex and I both had difficult starts in life and it shaped what happened for us both and I want Chloe to have a chance in life, and the support and guidance I never had. She’s been in the coma three weeks now, and it’s not looking too good, but, as the doctor said, ‘miracles do happen’ and I’m hoping for a miracle.
Chapter Forty
I’ve always loved her. Beautiful, blonde Hannah with the long legs and the infectious giggle. She thought we were just friends, but I knew one day we’d be together, I just had to wait.
They all wanted her, but none of them loved her like I did. Like I do. I was always there for her, waiting in the shadows. I’d stay late at the office, follow her home, make sure she was safe.
When she finished with Tom, I was ready to leap in there, but he kept calling her, and I was worried he might wear her down. ‘I feel so guilty,’ she kept saying. ‘He’s done nothing wrong.’ But let’s face it, he’d done nothing, period. My elation at their split turned to fear that she’d bump into him again and they’d end up back together. Hannah can be quite easily manipulated, and I knew he wanted her back; why wouldn’t he? So I decided to put a spanner in the works and sent everyone at the council a global email from a group of women Tom had ‘sexually harassed’, saying we wanted the council to take action. It was all very strident; I captured the essence of enraged #Metoo women foaming at the mouth and demanding his imminent death. I ended on a flourish, saying he was a danger to women and we were all taking legal action. I figured if he lost his job at the council, he’d leave the area and go back to where he came from.
Apparently within council walls, my email went nuclear; everyone was talking about it. My friend who works there said it was the talk of the place. I didn’t have long to wait for the fallout, because Tom turned up at our office, he was a mess, really pissed off and angry, accusing Hannah of sending the email. Hannah was upset, but he was almost crying, really showed himself up, it was all very embarrassing. Apparently, the council had to suspend him while they investigated, and for a while it looked like he might be sacked, but sadly, with no proof, no outraged victims prepared to speak, and no real evidence, he was kept on. It wasn’t a complete failure though because she and the rest of the office had witnessed his rage, and after that, she assumed the heavy-breathing phone calls and anything else weird was Tom. Which meant she avoided and feared him, so it worked, even if it wasn’t quite as I’d planned.
But seeing her, watching the way she licked her lips, the way she threw her head back when she laughed, and the way she looked at me over her coffee cup, was agony. So near and yet so far. But I told myself I had to be patient, didn’t want to make any sudden moves and freak her out. But watching
her type, brushing past her in the kitchen, breathing in her perfume, shampoo and sunshine – sometimes I’d stand by her desk and chat, just so I could breathe her in. It was like a sickness, and sometimes it felt so bad, the only way I could feel better was to be close to her. Some nights I’d go and stand across the road from her flat, just looking up at her window, usually in the middle of the night.
I sometimes looked after a friend’s dog – I’m good with pets, and I’d take the dog for a walk late. It could be raining, snowing, whatever, and I’d drag that little dog round to Hannah’s.
Once, someone hadn’t closed the outer door properly so I got inside her building and stood outside her door for a long time, just pressing my cheek against the cool wood, imagining it was her face. I started to think about her in there, lying in bed, naked, and I’ll admit was quite turned on. But then the bloody dog started running his snout along the bottom of the door, making this sniffing sound I was sure would wake her up, and it was a matter of time before he’d start barking and drop me in it. I should be clear, I meant her no harm and was only doing this to check on her, make sure she was okay – and I locked the outer door on my way out, so she’d be safe from passing weirdos.
After a long time loving her from afar, I knew my feelings were reciprocated when she bought me a big carton of Smarties shaped like Father Christmas. ‘I know how you love them Harry,’ she’d said, which I knew was her way of telling me she loved me. I was over the bloody moon. It was around the time she started seeing him, and I reckon it was her way of saying she was sorry, that I was the one she wanted, but I was with Gemma by then so she assumed I was taken. But that didn’t stop her flirting, she even said to me once, ‘What would I do without you, Harry?’ She was such a tease, with her long blonde hair and that secret smile she sometimes gave me across the office.