Written in the Scars (The Estate Series Book 4)

by Mel Sherratt

  God, he missed his wife.

  Why did Nick have everything when he hadn’t worked to achieve it? Lewis should have been going home to Amy, not living at his mum’s place.

  And if he couldn’t patch things up with his wife, where would he find another woman who would understand his mood swings, help him through the bad times enough to see a hint of the good every now and then? Since Nathan had died, he’d hardly slept through a night. What effect would that have on a new relationship? It would be a shambles.

  Lewis thrust his hands in his pockets, imagining how life would be if he was back with Amy and he could bond with Daniel again. He wished he shared the same simplistic outlook on life that his son did as a teenager. To Dan, everything could be worked at, or worked out.

  If only.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Megan finished her shift and went into the staff changing room to freshen up. After making sure everything was still covered underneath her make-up, she added a little more lipstick and sprayed perfume liberally over herself. Smelling of disinfectant would not be sexy.

  She checked her reflection one more time, and sighed. Was all this worry for nothing? If Sam did see her face, would he think less of her? Should she throw caution to the wind and see what his reaction would be?

  ‘No, Megan Cooper. You’re not ready for that yet,’ she chastised herself. She couldn’t risk him trampling all over her feelings.

  She made her way over to the outpatients department, through the maze of corridors. There were people everywhere, following various coloured lines marked on the floors that showed the way to different areas of the hospital.

  When she’d first started to work there, Megan had found herself in the wrong places for weeks until she’d found her way around. Most of the staff laughed about the made-up story of someone dying here because they’d been trying to get out for so long, and whose ghostly apparition wandered around the corridors at night. Although Megan knew it wasn’t true, it still gave her the creeps if she’d ever had to do a late shift and found herself alone in a corridor.

  Sam was nowhere to be seen when she arrived at the waiting area, but before she could ask at the nursing station for his whereabouts, she heard him.

  ‘If you don’t want me to swear, don’t be so bloody rough.’

  Megan giggled as she walked over to the cubicle the noise was coming from. ‘Need any help in here?’ she popped her head around the curtain.

  ‘Megan!’ cried Sam. ‘Tell him to go easy, he’s bloody killing me!’

  Megan pulled the curtain aside enough to let herself in before closing it again. ‘Hi, Stu,’ she said to the nurse who was tending to Sam. ‘Is he being a baby?’

  ‘Do you know this guy?’ Stu raised his eyes for a moment to give her a pitiful expression.

  ‘Yes, we met on ward twelve.’

  ‘Lucky you,’ he muttered before turning to Sam with a grin. ‘Right, the dressing is a little stuck, I’m afraid, so I’ll have to pull it back to remove it. It’ll sting but it’ll be over in about a minute.’

  Megan moved to Sam’s side, noticing that his top lip was split and scabbing over. She looked closer and saw the yellowy-black tinge of a bruise underneath his right eye.

  ‘What have you been up to?’ she asked, pointing to his face.

  ‘Had a fight with a wall.’ Sam reached for her hand and she gave it a quick squeeze.

  ‘If it hurts too much, don’t squeeze me back,’ she warned.

  ‘Tell him a joke,’ said Stu. ‘Take his mind off things.’

  Megan frowned, trying to think of one.

  Sam wriggled again as Stu pulled off the dressing. ‘Argh!’

  ‘Nearly there, Sam.’ Stu pried a little more off. ‘If you can’t think of a joke, Megan, sing a song.’

  ‘No way!’ Megan shook her head. ‘I’d have you all running from the building. My singing is pathetic. I can’t put you through that.’

  ‘One last bit, Sam.’

  ‘Argh!’

  ‘All done.’ Stu gently wiped a sterile cloth across Sam’s hand before inspecting it. ‘It’s looking really good. I just need you to pop down for an X-ray before you go, to make sure everything is still in place after the operation, and then we can make you some appointments.’

  ‘Appointments?’ Sam queried.

  ‘For more physio. The tendon is a little shorter now so you’ll need to go slow with it as it heals. Stretch and release. The physiotherapist will get you doing some different exercises to strengthen it up again.’

  Once out of the cubicle, Megan and Sam went round to the X-ray room. They sat down on the row of empty seats outside.

  Megan glanced at Sam, his colour fading as he stared at his hand. She wanted to ask him about the fight but could see tears glistening in his eyes.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

  ‘Look at it,’ he whispered, turning his hand slowly from left to right to inspect the damage up close.

  Megan glanced down. The skin on Sam’s hand was wrinkled and dry, reminding her of a waxwork dummy. He had a three-inch scar but it looked to be healing well, and the scab on his index finger that had been stuck to the dressing didn’t seem to be infected.

  ‘They’ve made a great job of stitching the wound,’ she told him.

  ‘I look like a freak,’ he hissed.

  ‘That’s only because it’s been covered up with a bandage for a while. New skin needs to form as the old falls off.’ She nudged him playfully. ‘I’ll be calling you lizard man as soon as it starts to peel away.’

  But Sam didn’t smile. He didn’t even look at Megan, unable to take his eyes from his hand. She wished she could think of something to say that would make him feel better.

  They sat in silence, the noise of the hospital around them. When Sam eventually looked up at her, there was sheer panic in his eyes.

  ‘I’m going to be scarred for life, aren’t I?’ he said. ‘I have an ugly scar plus a dent where I used to have a knuckle. I can’t even bend my fingers properly to form a fist!’

  ‘Good. You won’t be able to get into any more fights. Not that it seems to have stopped you.’

  He frowned. ‘Something needed sorting out.’

  ‘And was it?’

  ‘You should see the other guy.’

  ‘That’s not funny, Sam.’

  There was a pause. ‘Look, I get into trouble now and then. It’s what I do.’

  ‘It’s what you choose to do.’

  Another pause as Sam continued to look at his hand.

  ‘At least you didn’t lose your finger, like the surgeon originally thought you might have to,’ Megan soothed, realising she was judging him. ‘It’ll improve in time.’

  ‘So that’s okay then?’ Sam glared at her. ‘How would you know how I’m feeling?’

  Sometimes Megan wanted to shake people who didn’t understand what it was like to live with scarring every single day of their lives. Annoyed by his attitude, she waited for a lady to walk past them before speaking again.

  ‘It isn’t the end of the world because you’ve had an accident. You’re on the mend now.’

  ‘I know but—’

  ‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself.’ She pointed along the corridor where there were scores of patients waiting to be seen. ‘Look at all these patients. They’re hurting too, but you don’t seen them whining.’

  ‘Whining?’ Sam recoiled. ‘You’d feel sorry for yourself if you were scarred.’

  ‘I am scarred!’ Megan blurted out without thinking. She looked at the floor as several people turned her way.

  Sam’s brow furrowed. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Megan cursed inwardly. ‘Forget it. It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘No, tell me.’

  ‘I—’ Megan’s stomach lurched as she struggled with her thoughts. Maybe it would be better all round to walk away now, rather than allow herself to get any closer to Sam and risk the chance of getting hurt. But she needed to know if he wo
uld be repulsed if he saw her face without make-up. Had she been stressing too much, making a meal of it over the years, so much so that it was like having an elephant in the room?

  Would it matter if he were shocked?

  All of a sudden, she realised that it would.

  ‘Let me show you something.’ She reached inside her handbag and pulled out her purse.

  ‘Samuel Harvey!’ A door opened in front of them.

  Sam stood up. ‘I won’t be long. Will you wait for me?’

  Megan nodded. She watched as he disappeared into the cubicle. Running a hand through her hair, her right knee jigging up and down, she knew she wasn’t ready to show him the photo.

  She stood up and walked down the corridor, out of the building and away from Sam.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Donna decided to call in to see Mary before her shift at Shop&Save started at lunchtime. Having been awake most of the night, she’d been out of the house far earlier than usual.

  Driving was painful, but at least she could concentrate on something else for a little while. She’d give anything not to keep replaying what had happened to her on a loop inside her head. All she wanted to do was forget Owen, but the more time went on, the angrier she became about what he had done.

  ‘Hi, Mum, how are you?’ Donna asked as she let herself into the flat.

  Although her hair was untidy, Mary was up and dressed and sitting in her chair. But she wasn’t talkative today. No matter how Donna tried to coax her into speaking, she wouldn’t respond at all.

  She sighed. The silent visits were much worse than the ones where Mary was vocal. Dementia was such a volatile condition.

  Donna moved to the window, looking across the fields. Everything outside looked so calm and peaceful. He eyes filled with tears as her thoughts returned to Owen again. How could he have charmed her – and then abused her in that way? Had she missed the warning signs, being so enamoured with him? Had she just not been able to see what he was capable of? Or was he a manipulative, scheming, psychopath?

  The phone call from him yesterday had made his words seem more of a threat. She couldn’t believe it when he’d said that she had been mistaken in thinking that it was an assault, that it was supposed to be a bit of fun. Well, she might be gullible but she wasn’t stupid. That wasn’t fun for anyone but him.

  Donna went to sit nearer to her mum, desperate for someone to talk to as she perched on the arm of the chair. She couldn’t burden Keera with what had happened, and even if she could tell Sam, he’d want to find out where Owen lived and get his revenge. He could injure himself more in the heat of the moment, and harm his hand irreparably. Worse, he could try to use a weapon and end up in real trouble.

  Donna couldn’t even confide in Sarah, she felt too ashamed. She was dreading going into work, having to face her wanting to know everything about the night away. Her ribs were sore too, her face piled with make-up to hide the bruise inflicted by Owen’s hand.

  No, she couldn’t face it today. She’d have to ring in sick. Then, tomorrow, somehow, she’d have to pretend that everything was fine.

  ’Oh, Mum, I’ve been so stupid,’ she sniffed. ‘I let someone get under my skin and he took advantage of me. He turned out to be a horrible man.’

  Mary didn’t take her eyes from the television but Donna continued to talk anyway. She told her about Owen, about the attack and the phone call where he was denying all knowledge of hurting her.

  Knowing that she wouldn’t get any response from Mary made it easier to offload. Mary couldn’t tell her she’d been stupid, couldn’t tell her that she’d been lucky to get away when she had, or tell her that she had been gullible, foolish – pathetic to even think that someone like Owen would fall for her.

  She looked down as she felt Mary’s hand on her arm.

  ‘Don’t cry, Donna,’ she said.

  Donna’s tears spilled over. Having her mum back for a little time was a bonus, even though Mary knew she was upset but wouldn’t understand why. It felt comforting that she had reached out to her when she had needed it most.

  A few seconds later, Mary was watching the television again. Donna took out her phone and reread the message that Owen had sent to her after he’d called.

  Remember – I can see your every move.

  She didn’t believe that for a moment, but the idea of him watching her, following her, was enough to make her shiver. She hovered over the delete button, wishing she could erase him from her mind with the click of a button. But even though it hurt like hell to see his name displayed on her phone, something inside Donna made her think she should keep the message.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  It was all that Donna could do to drag herself into work later that week, but she knew Sarah would be short-staffed if she didn’t turn up, and besides, she needed the money. Getting docked pay would cause her enough problems with the time she’d been away so far.

  ‘Jeez, you look terrible,’ Sarah said as soon as she saw her. ‘Are you sure you’re all right to work?’

  Donna had told Sarah that she had slipped down the stairs, hurting her back and pulling her stomach as she had reached for the bannister to steady herself.

  ‘I – I think so,’ she fibbed. ‘I’m still in agony, if I’m honest, but I’ll be fine.’ She couldn’t look Sarah in the eye, instead rubbing at the small of her back and praying that the bruise on the side of her face had been concealed enough with make-up.

  ‘You’ll tell me anything, won’t you?’ Sarah exclaimed.

  Donna froze until she saw Sarah’s warm smile and realised she was teasing her.

  ’You’ve been swinging off the chandelier with Owen this weekend, haven’t you?’

  Donna managed a smile. ‘I wish.’

  ‘If you need to leave, let me know. I’ll get that idle cow, Maxine, to cover for your shift for a change.’

  ‘I’ll be fine. Working will take my mind off it.’

  ‘Well, you go easy, then. And later, I’ll make a cup of tea and you can tell me all about your night away. I’m dying to hear how it went!’

  Donna was halfway through her shift before she managed to take a break. She couldn’t believe that she’d got through the morning without bursting into tears. Her nerves were in shreds. Every time someone came into the shop, she expected it to be Owen. She wasn’t sure how she would feel when she saw him again. More to the point, if he did come into Shop&Save, how would she explain to Sarah why she didn’t want to see him?

  ‘Special delivery for you, Don,’ Sarah opened the door to the stockroom and shouted through to her.

  Donna pushed herself up gently and made her way carefully back through to the shop floor, where Sarah was holding a huge bouquet of flowers.

  ‘These just came for you.’ She pressed her nose to them and inhaled their scent before grinning. ‘I wonder what you did to deserve these, you dirty mare.’

  ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’

  Donna still held onto her tears. She couldn’t let Sarah see how upset she was or else she’d start to see through her act. She took the flowers, barely looking at them.

  ‘You and your kinky toyboy.’ Sarah grinned. ‘I still want to know all the details when you’re up to talking about it.’

  It took Donna all the strength she had to smile, hoping to fool Sarah that even though she was in agony, she was still happy.

  Sarah touched her arm. ‘We can manage without you if—’

  ‘Honestly, I’m fine,’ Donna fibbed. ‘I’d rather keep busy.’ She looked down at the flowers as she tried to hold it together. ‘I’ll just put these in water until I finish.’

  Once she was on her own again, panic welled up inside her. With a sense of trepidation, she removed the small envelope attached to the cellophane. She didn’t want to read the greeting but equally she needed to know what it said. Hands trembling, she opened it and read the message on the card.

  No one needs to know our little secret.

 
; Donna ripped the card up into tiny pieces and shoved it into the nearest bin. Our little secret? How could he say that? Here she was, keeping it to herself because she was ashamed she’d got herself into that predicament, scared that he might attack her daughter, and there he was lording it up as if it were some sort of game.

  Donna gasped with realisation, pain shooting through her chest as she did so. Had Owen done this before? Was she not the first to play right into his hands?

  She covered her mouth with her hand as she retched. Throwing the flowers to the ground, she rushed to the toilet, barely getting there in time to be sick.

  Afterwards, she closed the door, put the lid down on the toilet and sat, resting her head against the cold tiles. She shouldn’t have come into work today. She should have stayed in the safety of her own home. Those flowers weren’t a kind gesture. They were to show Donna that he was watching her.

  A few minutes later, still feeling nauseous, she texted Sarah and asked her to come through to the back. She didn’t want to be seen in the shop in this state.

  ‘Oh, Donna,’ Sarah said as soon as she saw her. ‘You’re as white as a piece of chalk.’

  ‘I’m going to go back home,’ Donna told her. ‘I still don’t feel right.’

  ‘You should have stayed off for the whole week.’

  ‘I can’t afford to.’

  ‘I know it’s a cliché, but your health is far more important than money, even if the bills won’t get paid.’ Sarah paused. ‘Maybe you’ve pulled a muscle and it’s making you feel sick all the time. I’m sure it will wear off soon. Leave your car here and I’ll get Maxine to hold the fort while I take you home. Come on.’ She held out a hand.

  ‘No!’ Donna lowered her voice. ‘I’m fine driving myself home, thanks.’

  Sarah didn’t look convinced. ‘Well, if you’re sure?’

  Maxine popped her head around the door. ‘Sarah, do we have any salted crisps out here?’

  ‘I’d better get back,’ Sarah sighed. ‘You know what it’s like if I’m missing for more than thirty bloody seconds. You stay here, catch your breath and go home when you’re ready. I’ll give you a ring later, yeah? See how you are.’