Trust No One

by Lizzy Grey

  “Did you ever try to find me?” she asked and saw more tears spring into his eyes.

  “Of course I did, but you’re bloody good at covering your tracks. And I had no idea I was looking for a pregnant woman and then a woman and a child. I heard about you being in hospital purely by chance, you know? I overheard someone mentioning how a child had been snatched outside a school and that the mother had been hit by a car. And that the mother had the most amazing waist-length blonde hair. You could have cut it short, why didn’t you?”

  The truth was that he had always loved her hair and she just couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  “I’m too used to it now. I’d feel bald without it. Even though it costs me an absolute fortune in shampoo and conditioner.”

  She was relieved when he laughed and she couldn’t help but smile.

  In the morning, after bringing Tommy to his new school, she tried more bookshops for part-time work. Armed with a page torn from the Yellow Pages, she worked her way from A to L before her feet began throbbing and she got a bus back to Dixon Street. Closing the front door she heard a laugh coming from the living area. The door was ajar so she crept across the hall and peered inside.

  Stephen, deliciously bare-chested and sweaty, was on one of the sofas with the telephone handset tucked between his chin and his shoulder. He was using one trainer to take the other off and wiping his forehead with a T-shirt at the same time.

  “…I still can’t quite believe they’re living here now. No, Becca knows nothing and suspects nothing. The way she is now – the fact she doesn’t trust anyone or anything - if she knew, she’d be off like a shot…No, I’m having to be really careful with her and it’s like walking on eggshells and sometimes I’m not patient enough. I lost it with her yesterday and it was horrible but I am trying to take things slowly…Tommy? Oh, he’s fantastic. I still can’t believe he’s my son…I know why she did it but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. Anyway, I must go, Barbara. I’ve just been for a run and I’m due in court in an hour.”

  You liar. She knew he wasn’t due in court until he returned to work the following day, having overheard him on his smartphone the previous evening. Creeping into the guest bedroom, she changed her shoes and went back out to the hall.

  “Thanks, Barbara, you’ve really gone past the call of duty…yes, I know…sex?” She heard him sigh. “I plucked up the courage and went to a prostitute…”

  A prostitute? Oh, bloody hell. She tiptoed to the front door and let herself out. Hobbling around the corner to a sandwich bar, she made a tuna sandwich and an orange juice last until it was time to go and collect Tommy from school. A smartly-dressed man winked at her as she was getting up to leave.

  “Cheer up, it might never happen.”

  “Yeah, right,” she muttered and walked to the door.

  Fifteen minutes later, she noisily opened the front door of the apartment just in case of, well, she wasn’t sure. Why on earth was a gorgeous man like Stephen going to prostitutes, she wondered, pushing the image of his sweaty body to the back of her mind.

  “Did you find a job yet, Mummy?” Tommy asked.

  “Not yet. A few bookshops took my details and said they’d consider me but nothing definite yet.”

  “You’ll find something soon.” Stephen, freshly-showered and dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans, smiled at them as he walked out of his bedroom.

  “I hope so. Have you had lunch?”

  “Yeah, I had a sandwich, thanks. How was school?” he asked Tommy.

  “Okay.”

  “Only okay?” Stephen frowned.

  “Yes. I was put sitting next to a boy with a silly name.”

  “What silly name?”

  “Maurice,” Tommy told him as she helped him off with his coat.

  Stephen’s eyebrows rose and she saw him fighting an urge to laugh. “That is a rather old-fashioned name, but it’s not his fault – his parents gave it to him.”

  “I know, but it’s still silly,” Tommy replied and ran to his bedroom to change out of his school uniform.

  “Are you doing anything this afternoon?” he asked her.

  “No, why?” Do you want an empty apartment so you can talk dirty to Barbara? Whoever she is.

  “I’m not used to having time off work and nothing to do, so I thought we might make a start on painting Tommy’s bedroom so you and he can have a room to yourselves again.”

  “Okay.” She put her head around the bedroom door to make sure Tommy was getting changed. He was sitting on the bed pulling his school trousers off and she withdrew. “I’ll just get Tommy something to eat then I’ll change my clothes.”

  “Good. I’ll make a start.”

  She found Tommy a banana then left him eating it on the sofa and watching his Disney DVD for the umpteenth time. Donning an old T-shirt and jeans, she joined Stephen in the bedroom.

  “It’ll be fun putting all that together.” He nodded at the flat packed furniture. “I’ve never been very good with my hands.”

  Yeah, right. “Shall I do around the window?” she suggested.

  “Thanks.” He took his paint tray and roller over to the wall nearest the door. “You know, if someone had told me a week ago I would be decorating the spare room with you for our son, well.” He gave a little laugh.

  “Same here.” She began to paint the window frame white. “When do you go back to work?” she asked, in an effort to make conversation.

  “Tomorrow. I’m in court. Want rid of me already?”

  “Just wondering.”

  “What do you think?” he asked, standing back so she could see the bit of wall he had painted. It was very yellow but if it was what Tommy wanted.

  “Good. Very yellow but good.”

  “It’ll be better with the red furniture in here.”

  “Yeah,” she replied, turning back to the window.

  “We could do your room, too, if you want?” he added.

  “No, the colour in there is fine. Thanks anyhow.”

  “’Sure?”

  “Positive.” She reached up and began painting the top of the window frame. “I like mauve.”

  “Lilac.”

  She pulled an exasperated expression. “Lilac.”

  An hour and a half later they were finished and the window was left open to help speed up the drying process.

  “Coffee?” Stephen asked.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Proper or instant?”

  She gave him a little smile. “Proper.” He returned a grin and she followed him to the kitchen. “You really are domesticated at long last,” she commented, watching him at the coffee machine.

  “I picked this one especially,” he told her, adding coffee powder and water before switching it on. “It’s so simple a trained chimp could use it.” She smiled. “Careful, you did that smiling thing again,” he teased and her smile vanished. “Please don’t feel awkward here, Becca. This is your home now. Tommy’s made himself very much at home. You do too, yeah?”

  “So, what about bringing friends back here?” she asked and he froze. Gotcha, she thought. Get out of that one.

  “Friends?” he repeated with puzzlement and suspicion in his eyes before quickly hiding it. “What do you mean?”

  “School friends. Tommy is bound to make some soon.”

  “Tommy?” He gave her a relieved smile. “Oh, yes, fine. That’s okay.”

  “A few five-year-olds in here? Are you sure?”

  “I could borrow a few handcuffs?” he suggested.

  “I might hold you to that.”

  “Do.” He tried to hold her gaze but she turned away and went to the fridge for the milk.

  Opening the door, she allowed herself a grimace. Three hours ago he was discussing prostitutes and sex with mystery woman Barbara and now he was turning on the charm for her. Men, you just can’t trust them an inch.

  By six o’clock that evening, the bedroom walls weren’t dry yet but Tommy began pestering Stephen to put his n
ew bed together. Stephen was hopeless with the flat packed furniture so she ended up putting it all together herself and left it up to him to manhandle it into place and haul the mattress onto the frame.

  “I’ll get a duvet and bedcovers. Tommy?” she called, as she passed the door to the living area. “Come and pick out a duvet cover for your new bed.”

  Tommy ran from the living area. “Wow,” she heard him gasp at the door to his bedroom.

  “Like it?” Stephen asked.

  “Ye-ah. Thanks, Daddy.”

  “No problem. Just don’t touch the walls yet, they’re not quite dry. Choose a duvet cover, like your Mum says, yes?”

  “Okay,” Tommy replied and ran to her at the chest of drawers in her bedroom.

  “Glass of wine?” Stephen asked her on his way to the living area.

  “Yes, please.”

  “I’ll ring for a takeaway, too,” he added. “What do you fancy?”

  “Chinese?” she suggested as Tommy pointed to his Star Wars duvet cover.

  “Chinese it is. Still have a thing about sweet and sour?”

  “Yes.” She passed the duvet cover, pillowcases and fitted sheet to Tommy. “Tommy and I both do.”

  “Three sweet and sour King Prawn with egg fried rice coming up, then.”

  An hour later, after Tommy had willingly gone to bed for the first time ever, she sat down on the sofa with her list of bookshops and began to mark more to try which weren’t too far away. Stephen sat opposite her with a bottle of lager and crossed his legs.

  “How do you feel living here so far?” he asked.

  “It’s only been two days. I’ll feel a whole lot better when I’ve got a job again.”

  “You really don’t have to get one, you know?”

  “Yes, I bloody do,” she snapped, wishing she could get him to back off without jumping down his throat. “What do you think I’m going to do here? Watch daytime television? Let me tell you again, Stephen, I’m getting a morning job to pay our way and that’s it.”

  “All right. Fine.” Raising the bottle of lager to his lips, he took a sip from it and turned the television on.

  After another morning of trudging around bookshops – only two of them had shown any interest – she went into the sandwich bar again and ordered a raspberry smoothie. She had bloody well earned it. Taking the glass to a window table, she hung the strap of her handbag over the back of the chair and sank down onto it with a little groan.

  “Hello again.”

  Twisting around in her seat, she saw the same smartly-dressed man who had spoken to her the previous day. “Hello.” She turned back to her glass and took a gulp of smoothie, rolling her eyes. God, that was good.

  “I think you needed that.”

  Reluctantly, she twisted around again. “Yeah.”

  “Let me guess,” he went on. “Job hunting?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And it’s not going too well?” he persisted.

  “No.”

  “Mind if I join you?” Without waiting for an answer, he picked up his glass of orange juice and a salad roll and slipped into the chair beside her. “What are you looking for?”

  “Part-time.” She took another long gulp of smoothie. “In an antique shop.”

  “Hmm, well, don’t try the one over there.” He nodded to the street. “The owner’s a bit weird.”

  “I know,” she replied, continuing her lie. “I was there yesterday,”

  He pulled a sympathetic expression. “I’m Jack, by the way.”

  “Concepta.” She surprised herself by stating the name without cringing.

  “Concepta?” he echoed, his eyes widening before he just shrugged and laughed. “Oh, okay, have it your way. Concepta, it is.”

  If only you knew, she thought wearily.

  “The old git probably wanted to see how shaggable you were,” he added, before taking a bite out of his salad roll.

  “I noticed. So if I’d gone in there with my CV wearing a French maid’s outfit he’d have hired me on the spot?”

  Jack laughed. “I’d have hired you on the spot, never mind him.”

  “Really.” Stirring her smoothie with the straw, she took a sip, feeling her cheeks burn. “Why, what do you do?”

  “I’m an accountant,” he told her. “With an office which could do with some dusting.”

  “Pity, I thought it would be something exciting.”

  “I can be as boring or as exciting as you want,” he replied slowly.

  He is bloody flirting with me, she realized, and fought to keep a straight face. “Really,” she repeated.

  “You must know your antiques then?”

  “Yes, I do,” she replied matter-of-factly. “Especially antiquarian books.”

  “Oh, I see.” He gave her a polite smile but she could tell that his brain was shouting, ‘Boring’. “You like reading, then?”

  “Yes. Crime novels, mostly.”

  “Oh. Cops and robbers and all that are very interesting, but crime writers rarely write about us accountants. Pity.”

  “Not sexy enough,” she told him bluntly. “Someone not filling in their tax return properly doesn’t exactly make for a gripping read.”

  “No?” He laughed. “You insult me. I could tell you a few things which would make that lovely blonde hair go white.”

  “Try me?” She began to fight back.

  “Oh, no.” He grinned. “Not in a public place like this.”

  “Well, it’s the best you’re going to get.”

  He pulled an exaggerated expression of sadness. “Now that is a pity.”

  She smiled incredulously, swirling her smoothie around in the glass. “I hope your wife doesn’t know you’re out on the pull like this.”

  “Divorced,” he replied simply.

  “I’m not surprised.”

  He shrugged. “She was the one who did all the running, not me. Didn’t think I was sexy enough. How about you? No, don’t tell me, you live alone?”

  “No.”

  “Living with someone?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Not in the way you think.”

  “Your parents?”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “No.”

  “Mystery woman, I see.”

  “Did your wife also tell you that you were patronizing before she divorced you?”

  “Amongst many other things.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” She looked at her watch before draining her glass. “Got to go.”

  “More antique shops to try?”

  She stood up, putting the strap of her handbag over her shoulder and head. “Something like that.”

  “Will you be here again tomorrow?” he asked. “I’d like to buy you lunch if you are.”

  She stared at him as he finished his orange juice, wondering if she should let him. He was kind of cute, in a mad curly haired kind of way. “I can be.”

  “Good. Shall we say…twelve thirty?”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Here,” delving into his jacket’s inside pocket, he produced a business card. “Ring me if you can’t make it. Sod it, ring me, anyway.”

  “Thanks.” She took the business card without answering him and put it in her bag. Leaving the sandwich bar, she hurried up the street, hoping she wasn’t making a big mistake.

  In bed that night, she examined the business card. John Andrews, Accountant. Impressive business address. Must charge a fortune. Cheeky git. She put it down on the bedside locker and turned off the light.

  Chapter Four

  In the morning, she was helping Tommy on with his coat, when Stephen called to her from his bedroom.

  “Becca, are you in the hall?”

  “Yes.”

  He stood at the bedroom door, doing up the buttons of a brown suit jacket, and gave Tommy a wink. “I’m going to try and see Mum and Dad today if I get a moment,” he told her. “An early or late lunch, if there’s nowhere I need to be.” He passed her Tommy’s school rucksac
k. “I need to tell them about Tommy and you.”

  Oh, shit. “Right.”

  “It’s best if I go on my own. I’m not sure how Mum’s going to take it.”

  I do. She’s going to go nuts. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you? If she’s angry, it’s me she should be angry at, not you.”

  He shook his head. “Better not.”

  “Are you still scared of her?” she teased.

  “No.” He smiled. “But this is a five-year-old grandson she knows nothing about.”

  “Yeah. Well, good luck.”

  The telephone began to ring and they both turned.

  “I’ll get it.” Stephen went back into his bedroom to answer it and she went into the bathroom. “Becca?” he shouted a couple of moments later. “It’s the woman from the Crime Bookstore.”

  A woman? Becca took the handset from him. She had spoken to a creepy man in the shop. “Never mind that idiot,” were the owner’s first words regarding her soon-to-be ex-husband. Becca had an interview. That morning at eleven, if she could make it? Becca grinned. Oh, yes she could!

  She left the bookshop clenching her fists in delight. Could she start on Monday week, when the owner’s divorce would be final? Oh, yes she could! Glancing at her watch, she saw it was five minutes to twelve already. She had been chatting to Peggy for almost an hour, the formal interview had gone completely out of the window after ten minutes. She smiled and walked to the sandwich bar. Jack was already there, typing on a laptop, but closed it and got up from his table as she pushed open the door and went inside.

  “You’ve got a job, haven’t you?” He gave her a grin.

  “I start very soon,” she told him. “I can’t believe it. She rang me instead of me having to ring her.”

  “Is it nearby?”

  “Not far away.”

  “Excellent.” He kissed her cheek and pulled out a chair for her. “I was sure you were going to stand me up.”