He feels my eyes on him. “Assessing again Miss Parker?”
“No. Enjoying Mr. Stone,” I reply. “Always enjoying.”
For a split second, our eyes meet in the twilight shadows before returning to the road ahead. I tear
myself away and sing along …
13
Dan pushes open the bright red door and some kind of buzzer sounds in a back room. The sign
above the counter reads: THE INK SPOT. He’s come to the right place.
On every wall are pictures in frames, photographs, illustrations and hand drawn sketches of tattoos.
Some are delicate, insignificant; others are brash, statement pieces that shout out ‘look at me.’
The love of his life has already made her mark on him; the scar on the top of his left hand is now
the colour of crushed blueberries. It’s about an inch and a half long and tattered on all sides. It’s a
permanent reminder of how close he came and of how far away she still seems. He wants to keep her
close; to make it personal, permanent. What he needs is her name tattooed across his heart as a
constant reminder of what she means to him. When their time comes, he’ll remove his shirt and she’ll
see. She’ll know she’s his.
A young man with artistic tendencies greets him, outstretches his gloved hand. “Alright? What can
I do for you mate?”
You can stop calling me that for starters…
“Yeah. I want my girlfriend’s name tattooed here.” Dan taps the left side of his chest.
“Sure. I can do that.” He points to an old wooden chair alongside a small desk. “Going to be a
permanent fixture, is she?”
You what?
Dan screws up his face in disgust.
“I…I mean, do you plan on being with her a long time? I’m only asking because they’re there for
good, you know?” He taps his forefinger on his arm, drawing Dan’s eye to the dragon’s tail wrapping
itself around his wrist.
“I know that.” Dan begins to unbutton his shirt, unselfconsciously. “It’s not like I haven’t had one
before.” He throws his shirt onto the back of the chair and turns around, slowly.
“Fuck me!” The artist leans in and follows the lines of colour on Dan’s back. He traces the outline
of a young woman’s face; her chestnut coloured locks, her smile. He notices how each letter has been
lovingly etched into skin in a gothic style.
“So who’s Saint Frances?” he asks light-heartedly.
“She’s not a fucking saint,” Dan snaps. “She’s a princess. Can’t you tell?”
Realising his mistake, he makes a quick recovery. “Ah, yes. I can see it now; the gold leaf and the
crown. There’s not a lot of demand for regal imagery around here,” he mumbles.
“Does that mean you can’t do that kind of work?”
“No … I can do it. Once I’ve created a stencil, I’ll be able to do it, no bother.”
Dan reaches for his shirt. “How much? Just across here, four letters?”
“Same style?”
“More or less but smaller.”
“Mm … say 150 with the number of mags I’ll have to use and the time to prep and bandage.”
“When?”
“Whenever. I can get started on the stencil today. Let you have a look at it and, say, show it to you
Saturday. If you like it, we can get started soon as …”
“Sounds fair enough. I’ll call back on Saturday around 3’oclock to see your handy work.” Dan turns
and prepares to side-step the artist standing in his path.
Unsettled by his size he moves to one side, allowing Dan to pass. “I’ll need money up front mate,”
he calls out after him.
Dan turns slowly. “How much?”
“£75 deposit.” He offers a sheepish grin
“Now?”
“No, no. I mean, when you come in on Saturday and when I start working on it.”
“Right. I’ll bring it all with me. Anything else?” He waits for more bad news.
“You’ll need to shave. You know the area?”
“Right. I’ll see you Saturday then mate,” he says, sniggering all the way to the door and beyond.
“Arty Farty and a fucking waste of space,” he mutters to himself. “Hope you can fucking draw.”
Lulled by the gentle hum of the engine and soft music I’d fallen asleep. I wipe the saliva from the
corner of my mouth and sit up straight, blinking into the lights of the oncoming traffic. It’s really dark
and it’s as if we are insulated from the rest of the world by this aluminium shell. I understand
completely why Ayden likes this car. It’s cosy and very cute.
“Have a good sleep?” Ayden asks, giving my knee an affectionate squeeze.
“Mm. How long was I out?”
“Not sure. You were snoring for thirty minutes though, if that helps.”
I see him smiling in the darkness. “Ha, ha. I don’t snore.”
“No. Not now you’re awake, you don’t.”
I take a look at the Sat Nav. “We’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Yeah.”
“Have you enjoyed your ‘open book’ day Ayden? Or has it been a little traumatic for you?” Now’s
as good a time as any to broach the subject.
He shrugs his shoulders. “It went better than I anticipated it would, I suppose.”
I find my familiar resting place on the gear stick. “Well, I think you’ve been very brave. I know it’s
not been easy and I do appreciate it. You know that, don’t you?” I feel his hand against my cheek and I
lean into it.
“I do. And you were right, not wanting to marry a stranger. I wouldn’t want to do that either. At
least you don’t come with all this baggage. I’ve got enough to fill lost property at Heathrow, but you
…”
I have to speak up. “I have my share.”
“The difference being, your secrets will fit into a small holdall,” he says, adding some much needed
humour.
I look out of the window and consider that assumption. “Maybe.”
“Look … before we get to your apartment, I might as well tell you I’ve made a couple of changes to
it.” He indicates left and pulls onto a minor road. “And there will be someone there who wants to
speak to you.”
I’m all ears. “Okay. Who?”
“Detective Inspector Bowker. He’s handling your case and my people are working with him.”
“Your people?”
“Yes. Sometimes I use private agencies to do checks on people. Look into things. I like to know
who I’m dealing with.”
Where’s this going, I wonder…?
“And what did they find out about me?” I ask a little too brusquely, turning to face him side-on.
“Nothing.”
I hold my position. “But you did get them to check?”
“Yes, I did get them to check.” He reaches out his hand and finds mine. “Does that bother you?”
“No,” I lie. “I suppose a man in your position has to do checks. After all, I could have been a gold
digger or a spy for one of your competitors or …”
“I don’t have any competitors Beth.”
“Whatever, you know what I mean.”
“I do. The only thing I can accuse you of stealing is my heart missy.” His grip on my hand tightens.
I start to laugh. “That’s a good line. Let me write it down.” I pretend to search for a pen the way
Ayden does at times like this. “What about the changes you’ve had made to my apartment? Can you
tell me what they are?”
“No. You’ll have to wait and see.” He
repositions both hands on the steering wheel and yawns
widely, making a long drawn-out sound that echoes around the car. He drums on the wheel to the
music. What a happy soul he is.
He pulls up outside my apartment just behind the silver Rolls. Lester is already inside. I pull my
bag onto my knee to find my keys.
“Don’t bother looking for keys. I’ve had the locks changed.”
Surprise number one.
I ring the doorbell and wait to be let into my own apartment. Lester opens the door.
“Lester,” Ayden acknowledges. “Something smells good.”
“Yes it’s what you usually order Mr. Stone and the table is set ready for you and Miss Parker.”
I glance over to my kitchen table which is laid out with a table cloth, cutlery and glasses. Who
knew my little table could look so grand? “Thank you Lester.” I smile and pat his arm. “That’s very
nice of you.”
No sooner have my words left my lips than he’s moved away to Ayden. He’s mumbling something.
I leave them to their classified information and enter my bedroom, kicking off my shoes and
stopping at the door. In that split second, I am reminded of the events of less than three days ago: the
splintered door, the shattered window, the glass, the blood … but there’s no trace of anything. In fact,
the bedding and the curtains are new, even the carpet. Everything. “Ayden?”
Quickly he enters the bedroom, witnesses my surprise and wraps his arm around my shoulders. “Is
anything wrong?”
I’m a little stunned. “No, not wrong, just different. The whole room has been refurbished.”
Surprise number two.
“I thought it might make things a little easier if you could start over, especially in here.” He’s
looking into my eyes, searching for approval.
“Yes. It’s lovely. Thank you.”
He takes my hand. “Come see.”
I open the door into my bathroom and my jaw drops. “I don’t believe it.” My bathroom has become
a wet room with two matching sinks and a double sized shower, minus a door. I can’t help but laugh.
The memory of Ayden flat on his back on my bathroom floor, wearing not much more than an
embarrassed scowl, will stay with me for ever. “What happened to the shower door?” I enquire
playfully.
“Don’t ask,” he answers, tipping his chin and giving me the sexiest of looks that leaves me no other
choice than to wrap my arms around him.
“You spoil me Ayden,” I whisper softly into his chest, feeling the gentle thump of his heart against
my ear.
“It’s no more than you deserve,” he answers, resting his chin on my head. “Let’s go into the lounge.
You have a visitor.”
I slip my shoes back on and return to the lounge. On my sofa sits a smartly dressed gentleman of
around forty, with slicked back hair and an iPad on his lap. He stands when I enter.
“Ah, Miss Parker. I’m. Detective Inspector Bowker. I wonder if you could spare me a few minutes
of your time before you eat dinner?”
“Of course.” I sit down next to him, cross my legs at the ankles and perch on the edge of the
cushion, unsure of what he knows.
“Firstly, let me say that I’m very pleased to see you’ve recovered from your ordeal. It must have
been a terrible shock for you to have been woken in the middle of the night like that, by a burglar who
was so intent on getting into your bedroom?” He fixes me with sharp, inquisitive eyes.
“Yes, it was.”
He doesn’t know about the university attack.
“Now, am I right in thinking you may have a clue as to the identity of the burglar?”
Before speaking I look over to Ayden who, for some reason, is nodding no. “I … I thought I
recognised his voice but I really was way too frightened to be sure.” To occupy my hands, I roll my
engagement ring round and round my finger.
When he consults his notes, I glance over to Ayden who is standing behind him, perched up against
the bedroom door frame. He signs, say nothing.
“Now I have notes on your injuries from the hospital. You had bruises to your back and cuts to the
soles of your feet, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me how you got those injuries?”
I feel my back straightening with the recollection. “I pushed the drawers against the door to
barricade it and when I stepped back, I think I stood on some broken glass.”
“Broken glass, from the window? I see. It was fortunate you had bars across your window, wasn’t
it? Otherwise we would be looking at a very different kind of incident, I think.”
I nod and stop twisting my ring. The thought of what might have happened hits me hard like a
blinding light. I shake free of it and stare straight ahead. I’ve nothing to hide. Well, not much.
“Can you tell me what made you get the window bars fitted? Apparently they were only erected a
couple of days before your break-in?”
Where’s he going with this?
“I was talking with a colleague at work and they said a friend of theirs had an apartment on the
ground floor, and someone had broken in while she was on holiday. It occurred to me that, as I was
going to Rome, it might be a good idea to have them put up to keep the property secure. And they are
quite decorative …”
“Yes, they are.” His mouth levels off into a half-hearted smile.
I look to Ayden. He signs quick thinking and I hold back on a smile.
He’s buying it.
“So as far as you know was anything stolen from your home? Any valuables, documents, anything
at all?”
I look around. “I’m sorry, I don’t know. I’ve been staying with Mr. Stone and we’ve only just come
back. So I’ll have to check.”
“Right. So, there does not appear to be anything missing …?”
“Like I say, I’d need time to look around and check.” I smile sweetly.
“Would it be possible for me to take a look in your bedroom?”
I stand and straighten my skirt. “Yes, of course.” I walk in that direction and he follows closely
behind. Ayden and I stand at the foot of the bed, holding hands.
He closes the door. “You’ve had the bolt repaired?”
“Yes, Mr. Stone had his people sort that out for me.” I rest my free hand on his arm as an
appreciative gesture.
He reads his notes. “And the window? That too?”
I nod and smile.
“And what about the drawers? Has he had those replaced for you too?”
The drawers …
“I’m sorry, the drawers …” I feel Ayden’s hand tightening on mine. “The drawers weren’t broken.”
“Oh, I know they weren’t broken Miss Parker, but there was traces of DNA on them, I just assumed
…” He’s touched a nerve.
“DNA?” What is he talking about? “What do you mean?”
“I mean that the perpetrator had been in your home prior to his secondary visit in the early hours.”
What?
“I’m sorry… Plain English please.”
He spells it out for me. “He had been in here before coming back at night.”
I pull my hand free of Ayden’s and feel the colour draining from my face. “When?”
“Possibly a day or two before. His DNA was found here in your bedroom. It matched that of the
blood left on the broken glass.”
“In here? What do you mean?”
“I’
m sure I don’t need to go into the details right now …”
“Oh, I’m sure you do Detective Inspector Bowker. In fact, I insist on it.”
He looks to Ayden and back to me. “Very well. There were traces of DNA on the drawers as I said,
and also on the contents of the drawers; namely undergarments and small items of clothing.”
Feeling a little out of sorts, I sit on my bed and brace myself for the next shocking admission. “Is
that it?”
“No. In the bathroom, there were traces of male saliva and perspiration on the clothes in the wash
basket …”
I’m becoming nauseous with each new piece of information; it’s beyond disturbing. I rub my
forehead with my hand to ease the building tension. “Anything else?”
“Yes …” He hesitates. “DNA was also present in your bed …”
Filled with horror, I gasp and stand, unsteady on my feet. “My bed? There was blood on my bed.”
“It was not blood Miss Parker.” He stops, looks over to Ayden again and faces me with an ominous
look. “It was semen.”
That’s the final straw. I gasp and hold my hands to my mouth to contain foul tasting bile.
Semen?
I don’t want to hear anymore, but I know I have to. What kind of fucking animal comes into my
home and defiles it? I take a couple of deep breaths and regain my composure.
Ayden takes my hand. “Detective, I think Miss Parker’s heard enough, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course Mr. Stone, but I …”
Ayden is leading me out of the bedroom. His arm is around my shoulders. “I think we could both do
with a drink.”
Finding the strength from somewhere, I spin around. “Tell me about the carpet … what about that?”
He is unsure of the meaning in my question. “The carpet?”
“Yes, the carpet, it’s new. What notes do you have on that?” I feel my temper rising, I’m tetchy and
impatient. “Well?”
“Ah yes, the carpet was stained with blood, your blood Miss Parker …”
“And …?”
“And there was also a significant DNA sample by the bed.”
“Of semen, I assume?”
“Yes, that’s right.” He’s sensing my annoyance and putting down his iPad, but nothing he says will
shock me now. I’m too fucking angry to be shocked.
I want to speak to Ayden, to challenge him about what he knew and why he didn’t tell me. All this
TouchStone for giving (The Story of Us Trilogy) Page 25