CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
LUKE
2003
My meeting with the head teacher should have been the end of it. Yet I knew I could not leave it there. Having Emma in my life was like a scabbed-over wound I couldn’t resist picking at. I knew from our chats that her dad went to the pub to meet up with his cronies on a Thursday night, leaving her all alone. I had been careful to park my car away from prying eyes. Dressed in black, I was barely visible against the greying landscape, and I crept to the back of the bungalow to check Emma was alone.
I held my breath as I glanced through the small square window, watching as she stirred a bubbling pot on the stove. How many times had she done the same to me? I had seen her, creeping around the perimeter of my home on the CCTV. Annoyance rose up inside me as I watched her cooking without a care in the world. Her hair was tied up with a red scarf, and she looked like she was humming a tune as she turned to scoop up a handful of chopped garlic cloves and plop them into the broth. Her long flowing skirt swayed as she moved; she appeared as if she came from a different era, an oddity in this world. But I knew what she was capable of and I could not stay away. I tapped on her window with my knuckle, taking pleasure in making her jump out of her skin. Gripping the kitchen counter, her expression changed from fear to wonder as she realised it was me. Patting her hair and brushing off her skirt, she whirled around in a panic, taking the pot from the stove before making her way to the back door.
A sudden puff of garlic-infused steam escaped into the night air as the door creaked open and I wasted no time in walking inside. ‘Are you alone?’ I grunted, surveying the kitchen.
She nodded, her eyes wide with anticipation. After all the times I had warned her off, she must have felt as if she were dreaming, finding me in her kitchen, the two of us alone. Any other woman would have been enraged by my treatment of her, dumping her so mercilessly after I’d got what I wanted. But not Emma. I only had to click my fingers and she would be mine. That was the beauty of the troubled backstory I had fed her. I could behave exactly how I wanted and she would put it down to me having a childhood as disturbed as her own.
‘What are you doing here?’ she said, clasping and unclasping her hands.
‘You know why,’ I said, my tone deep and menacing as I backed her up against a wall. ‘I had a visit from the headmistress today. Have you been spreading rumours? Trying to get me the sack?’
Her mouth dropped open upon hearing the accusation, and I grabbed her arms and shook to elicit a response. ‘Well? What have you been saying?’
‘N . . . nothing,’ she said. ‘I swear, it wasn’t me. Luke, please. I’d never do anything to hurt you.’
‘Really?’ I said, expelling a bitter laugh. ‘Tell that to my dog. I only had him a year. Don’t try denying it. I know it was you who let him out of the car.’ The truth was, I had been glad to see the back of him. I’d never liked that dog; it was my mother who thought I would benefit from having a pet. But women were attracted to animal lovers, and on this occasion I was happy to use him as leverage if it wiped the smile from Emma’s face.
‘It was an accident. I didn’t know he was on the back seat. I saw you go into the shops. The car was unlocked and I was getting into it when he jumped out.’ Her chin wobbled as she struggled to word a response. ‘I panicked and ran away. I thought he’d just go home.’
‘But he didn’t run home, did he? He ran straight under the tyres of a car.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she wailed, her face twisted with angst. ‘I feel awful for what happened. But you hurt me, Luke, more than Mum, Theresa, anyone I know. And the worst thing about it is that I . . .’ She gasped for breath as tears lined her lids. ‘I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.’
‘You were cheap,’ I said, looking her up and down with disgust. ‘After the way you behaved, did you really think I’d be interested in anything more?’ A warmth spread from within as I watched her features crumble. This was what I’d wanted when I’d tapped on her window pane. ‘Look at you, following me around, like you’re trying to replace my dog. You almost lost me my job today. You’d better stop what you’re doing or you’ll come to regret it.’
‘Please. You don’t mean that,’ she said, making no effort to escape as I edged myself closer to her. My words were saying one thing, but my body was communicating something else. Her expression was wracked with confusion as I lay my hands on her shoulders, grazing her cheek with the knuckles of my right hand, just as I had that time we’d met in my classroom after lessons had ended.
‘Oh, little puppy,’ I said, ‘how many times must I kick you before you stop coming back for more?’ I pressed my lips upon hers, teasing her mouth open with my tongue. For a few tantalising seconds we entwined, my fingers caressing the back of her neck, eliciting a soft moan. ‘Is this what you want?’ I whispered, planting butterfly kisses on her skin. She arched her neck to meet me, closing her eyes as my hands caressed her back. Pulling away, I tutted as she wrapped her hands around me, trying to draw me near. Grasping her wrists, I pushed her away. I wiped my mouth to remove all traces of her from my lips. ‘Like I said, cheap. Harass me again and I’ll call the police.’
‘No,’ she screamed. ‘You can’t do this to me. I won’t let you. I . . .’ but her words were cut short as I wrapped both my hands around her throat, pinning her up against the wall. ‘You don’t call the shots here, I do. Say one word to jeopardise my job and I’ll leave you so nobody will ever look at you again. Understand?’
Emma spluttered a cough as I released my grip, the fear in her eyes telling me all I needed to know. I was the one in control, not her, and if I wanted her I would click my fingers and watch her come running. Not that I would be calling anytime soon. I had another prize in mind.
Closing the back door behind me, I disappeared into the night, leaving a broken little girl behind.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
EMMA
2003
The floorboards creaked from my movement, and I climbed on to my bed, gripping my phone as the mattress bounced lightly beneath my weight. I sat, legs splayed amongst the remnants of things I had collected over the school year. A piece of paper Luke had scribbled on, then thrown in the bin. A pebble from the gravel yard of his home. I knew I had been taking a risk in returning, but I ventured there only when I knew Luke and his family were away. Shame fell heavy as I remembered clambering through his open bedroom window on the ground floor. If he only knew! That would have blown up in my face for sure. Yet it had been a bittersweet torture, lying on his bed and spending time amongst his things. Inhaling his scent from the pillow on his bed. It made me feel closer to him. Less alone. I returned my gaze to the bent-up photo I had found in his bedroom drawer. I had taped a picture of me over the girl he was standing with. My gaze fell on the old clipping from the local newspaper about the school art exhibition I was excluded from. My bedspread was covered with things that whispered his name. I clutched the cordless phone in my hand, my fingers stiff from repetitively dialling his mobile phone.
It had been easy to disguise my tears from my father, blaming my puffy eyes on a bout of hay fever. Not that he had noticed. Since Mum left, he wasn’t really present any more. There had been all sort of questions asked after she disappeared, but the rumours had died down now. Mum had been vocal about leaving us well before she took the plunge, but even now, I struggled to accept she had gone for good. It was me, it had to be. I drove everybody away. Today was the first day in ages that I had attempted to cook a healthy meal. Fed up of moping around, I had cycled to the shops and bought all the ingredients myself. But now the food lay uneaten in the bottom of our rubbish bin.
How could Luke be so cruel? I licked my lips, still sore from the pressure of his kiss, my tongue finding a small cut inside my gum. It had been just the same that night in the beach hut, rough and uncaring, not how I imagined my first time to be. Yet, I longed for him just the same.
He had told me I was beautiful, made me feel as if I counte
d in this world. But it was all lies, just to get what he wanted. He never really loved me at all. My guts churned at the thoughts of his departure. Why would he have kissed me if he didn’t care?
I took little comfort from the thought. He was slipping away, and his kiss was just a parting shot. It scared me just how empty my life would become without him. Up until now I had fooled myself that there was still a chance for us.
Following him in town, poring over his things, I knew it wasn’t normal behaviour. Sometimes I could justify my actions because I loved him. I knew then that I’d rather kill myself than face the thought of being without him. My heart felt as if it was breaking into tiny little splinters, and I could not take the pain any more.
I gathered my thoughts. Would that make him come to his senses? Make him fall in love with me again? It reminded me of the daisy game I used to play, plucking the petals as I recited the words, ‘He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me . . .’
I stifled a yawn. It was the middle of the night and I had school in the morning. How was I going to face school, when all the gossips in the common room now talked about me? I rubbed my throat where he had gripped me tightly, yet in some masochistic way I had welcomed his contact. It was rough and unloving but the best someone like me could hope for. My relationship with Luke was the worst kind of torture. Mum’s departure had cut me to the bone, but at least it had been quick, with little promise of return.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
EMMA
2017
Busying myself in the changing room, I carefully tidied the array of dresses that my indecisive bride had abandoned. Given it was her fourth visit, I was relieved she had finally made a decision. I checked my watch. Alex’s meeting with Theresa weighed heavily on my mind, stealing my focus from the job at hand. My trance was broken as the bell rang over the door.
‘Only me!’ Theresa said brightly as she shrugged off her suit jacket. ‘Sorry I’m late. Oh, are you with a client?’
‘Just left,’ I said, feeling my throat constrict as I spoke. ‘You look good. Been shopping?’
‘I thought I’d make more of an effort, although I’m not sure about these heels. Cuppa tea?’ Theresa breezed past me into the kitchen.
Did I imagine it or had she been unable to meet my gaze? Why was she suddenly making an effort with her appearance? Suspicion coiled around me like an ugly snake, and I busied myself as I tried to hold back the spiteful comments lacing my tongue. ‘No thanks . . . I’ve been trying to ring Alex, but he’s not answering his phone.’
The tinkling spoon came to a halt from the kitchen, and her response took a couple of extra seconds to come. ‘I wouldn’t worry. He’s probably with a client. Oh, Ems, have you seen the scissors? I need to snip off some tags but they’re not in the drawer here.’
‘No,’ I said, almost snorting at her desperation to change the subject. But Alex was a worry not so easily shifted. He had been growing distant; when he smiled it felt like he was putting on an act. But just the same, I found it hard to believe that he would betray me with my sister.
‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ Theresa asked, sipping her tea. She stared intensely, her eyes feeling like they were searching the very corridors of my mind.
‘I’m fine,’ I said, unwilling to elaborate. My heightened anxiety had forced me to log into the nursery’s webcam three times already, just to make sure that Jamie was doing OK. My thoughts went round and round on a loop and by late afternoon I was feeling sick and emotionally drained. I had yet to bring myself to eat, but I was equally worried that if I started I would not be able to stop.
‘These shoes are killing me.’ Sitting on the chaise longue, Theresa crossed her legs and rubbed the heel of her right foot. ‘We’ve got Bridezilla coming soon. You know how demanding she is. If you’re not up to it then I’m sure I can manage her on my own.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ I said, my nose in the appointment book as I worked out next week’s shifts. ‘I’ve got this.’
‘I hope the sun shines on her wedding day,’ Theresa said, ‘otherwise she’ll be blaming us for the weather too. God, I feel sorry for that fiancé of hers. Still, he must be as much of a wanker as she is, to want to spend the rest of his life with her.’
‘Not appropriate,’ I said, raising a smile. I often felt like the big sister in our relationship. Theresa had floated through life with a string of boyfriends, never actually committing to any one thing. We had all been thrilled when she’d finally settled down. Charles was considerably older, not what you called good looking, but I’d had a feeling at the time that his bank balance made up for the shortfall. It was just a shame he had such a roving eye. Theresa didn’t like to talk about him, and I didn’t push the subject.
‘Where would I be without you?’ she said, her smile freezing as she glanced towards the door. ‘Brace yourself. She’s here.’
I took a deep breath. Flapping a polka-dot umbrella, a wide-hipped woman barged through the front door. I had some beautiful dresses for curvy brides, but Victoria had been putting on weight at a ferocious rate, and the problems began when she tried to blame the ill-fitting dresses on me. She had not held back, citing ‘shoddy material’ as one of the reasons the gowns grew tighter with each fitting. I thought of my father’s saying, the one he used when my mother was in a bad mood: If the cat had kittens it would be my fault. At the time, I didn’t understand what he meant. Now I was fully aware, as everyone in my life blamed all their problems on me. I plastered on a smile as I greeted Victoria, determined to make this appointment a pleasant one.
‘I’ll do the meet and greet, you get the dress for her highness,’ Theresa whispered, probably because she could see that I was not up to pleasantries today.
Victoria was her usual vocal self, her mother cowering behind her as she barked orders in her wake. ‘You sit there,’ she scowled, scraping back her plum-tinted hair which had grown frizzy from the rain. ‘No, not there, stupid, here where the light shines properly. I want you to tell me exactly what you think.’
Tell her what she wants to hear, more like, I thought to myself as I bustled between the dresses on the hangers looking for the tag with her name. I doubted anyone had ever dared tell Victoria what they really thought. I comforted myself that it was her final fitting, and I had pre-empted her weight gain by asking the seamstress to let her gown out a couple of inches more.
‘Here we go,’ I said, carrying the weighty gown in both arms. It was beautiful, one of our designer dresses that had cost me an arm and a leg. At over two thousand pounds, it was my first brand-new rental, and it appeased Victoria that she could hire a designer dress at a fraction of the cost of buying it. ‘Do you want to try it on?’ I said, wincing as the words left my mouth. It was just one of those things you said, but I knew she’d pick up on it straight away.
‘Of course I do,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘I’ve got to make sure it fits. Three years I’ve been planning this day. Three years and of all the companies I’ve dealt with I’ve never used one as unprofessional as yours.’
My smile tightened because I knew this was a lie. I had many contacts in the wedding industry and what Victoria didn’t realise is that we all discussed our clients. She had given every one of them a similar speech in the hope of a discount. I tugged at the zip, in no mood for her sniping comments today.
‘Here, let me give you a hand,’ Theresa said as we extracted the gown from its protective covering. It sparkled beneath the light and I found myself looking forward to seeing it on the new bride. The Prosecco was on ice, and fairy lights twinkled on the centre platform, all waiting for her special moment. But it was lost on Victoria as she greedily grabbed the dress from my hands.
‘Gently,’ I said, being rewarded with a red-faced glare.
But as she pulled the gown from its encasement, she emitted an ear-piercing squeal. ‘What’s this? My dress! What have you done to my dress?’
My head swivelled from Theresa and back to Victoria. This had to be a re
cord. Usually her complaining began when she tried the gown on. My eyes widened as Victoria plunged her fingers into what looked like torn material. ‘What the hell is this?’ she raged, pulling at the slashed fabric and waving it in my face.
My mouth dropped open. I was dumbfounded. Surely I was not looking at a dress that had been ripped to shreds?
‘Let me see that,’ Theresa said, taking the dress from Victoria’s grasp. I held the hanger as she spread it out between us, her fingers trailing down the jagged rips in the satin.
‘I say, someone’s taken a knife to it,’ Victoria’s mother piped up, like Miss Marple in the background.
But as I peered closer, I could see that the implement that had been used was more likely scissors. Someone had speedily cut through as many layers as they could. I looked down as sprinklings of diamante dropped to the floor. ‘This can’t be right,’ I said, my words fading as my sister and I exchanged horrified glances.
‘My dress, my beautiful dress!’ Victoria emitted a low howl of despair and plump tears streaked down her face.
I could not blame her for her outburst. It was a week until her wedding, and the dress that she had so painstakingly chosen was now reduced to a tattered mess. However, it was just as horrific for me, given how much money I had invested in buying it. I felt sick, and shocked I had not noticed the damage sooner. ‘It must be a different gown,’ I said, grasping for answers. ‘The seamstress must have sent me back the wrong one. This can’t be yours, it can’t. There’s got to be a mistake.’ My words tumbled out, and I continued speaking quickly until I stopped making sense. I fought for air, feeling the world close in on me as everything in my life went wrong.
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