by Gayle Curtis
There was a scratching sound, a bleep, and the gates seamlessly began to open. Her heart racing, Rachel ran back to the car, swearing at herself for not having been able to simply drive up to the intercom so she could smoothly glide through the entrance. Everything she did here felt clumsy and ill-planned. She found the entire complex and the air of importance it carried quite intimidating.
She moved through the gate and parked the car, then sat for a moment, trying to settle her mind. It didn’t work; in the quiet, all she could think of was getting out of there and meeting up with Dean.
When she gave her head a shake and looked at Cara, the sight of her daughter sitting there still as stone, staring straight ahead, only made Rachel fidget even more.
‘You haven’t told anyone what’s happening tonight, have you?’
Cara shook her head but kept looking through the windscreen.
‘Cara?’ She grabbed her arm.
‘No! You asked me that last time.’
‘Jason’s dropping you off at Raymond’s later, and then I’ll send you a text when I need you, something like “miss you, love you”, and that’ll be your cue to leave Raymond’s house. Jason will be parked down Prospect Lane. It’ll be about 3 a.m., so make sure you have your phone switched on. Do. Not. Tell. A. Soul.’
Cara didn’t speak – simply continued staring through the windscreen. Rachel followed her gaze. She was focused on a large man putting his gym bag into the back of his car.
Rachel turned in her seat. ‘Are you worried about later?’ Rachel had discussed everything with Cara and had sold the idea in the same way Jason had to her, but Cara didn’t appear to be fully on board and that concerned her.
‘Not really.’
‘What’s wrong with you? When you first started coming here, you loved it. Loved Adrian too.’
‘Maybe I don’t anymore,’ Cara said, shrugging.
‘You’re so lucky, you know. There are kids out there who would give anything to be a member of this club.’ Rachel looked up to see Jason walking towards them. She squeezed the steering wheel, then turned her tanned hands towards her to check her newly painted nails.
‘Yeah, well, he’s not interested in me anymore. I’m too old. All they’re interested in is Raymond and the new girls.’
‘Don’t be so silly. You’re just as good a gymnast as Raymond.’
‘I heard one of the coaches talking to Adrian about him the other day. They think he’s brilliant . . .’
Rachel sighed deeply, trying to think of something to say to lift her daughter’s spirits. ‘Only because he’s a boy and there aren’t many of them who want to do gymnastics.’
Cara shrugged. ‘Whatever. Like I said, they’re just not interested in me anymore.’
‘But don’t you see, once we’ve started our plan, and you’re all over the news, you’ll be back in favour again.’
Cara didn’t speak, simply undid her seat belt and got out of the car, slamming the door behind her.
‘Cara,’ Rachel shouted out of the window, and her daughter slowed down and turned. ‘Come here a second.’
Eventually, and with plenty of attitude, Cara walked back to the car and leant in the passenger-side window.
‘I promise you, this will work,’ Rachel said earnestly. She didn’t know what else she had to do or say to convince Cara it would all be okay, and it was beginning to frustrate her. ‘You can’t keep complaining about things but be unwilling to take some small risks to get there. And there are always risks with anything worthwhile.’
‘It doesn’t matter what I say, Mum. You’ll go ahead and do what you want anyway – you always do.’ Cara gave her a sarcastic grin and headed towards the gym for training.
Jason stepped up to the driver’s-side window. ‘What’s up with her?’ he said, frowning.
‘How should I know? She’s been like this for a few days.’ They watched Cara walk away. ‘I think she’s feeling a little neglected.’
‘I’ll talk to her, she’ll be fine.’ He handed her an envelope. ‘Wages.’
‘Everything in order?’ Rachel said, squinting through the window at the sun shining in her eyes.
‘Just make sure Cara is in the lane by 3 a.m. The pubs will be shut and everyone home by then. If you see anyone loitering, just stall. I’ll wait a few minutes. If you’re not there by three-thirty, I’ll assume it’s all off. I’ll park the van behind the garage next to the Chinese takeaway. Does she know where she’s got to go?’
Rachel nodded.
‘And whatever you do, don’t call or text me. Wait to hear.’ Jason said this all without emotion.
‘When will that be?’ Rachel asked, but he just left her staring at his back as he walked away.
Rachel started the car, and wheel-spun as hard as she could in the large car park, slowing to allow the gates to reopen, then sped off, heading for the Drum and Monkey on Blue Green Square.
Earlier that day, Rachel had texted Dean to see if he was at the pub barbecue. A message came back almost immediately:
Meet you in the store, back of the pub at 2 X
Dean worked in the bar at weekends. Although he wasn’t old enough to serve alcohol, he took orders for meals and collected glasses. Rachel knew him from school; he was one of the students in her media class.
Very few people knew Rachel properly – not even Howard, whom she’d only married two years ago after he’d proposed several times in the ten years they’d been together. They’d had a nice house, a small mortgage, a landscaped garden, and a large flat-screen television which they had sat in front of every night to eat their dinner. Rachel had been a well-respected teacher, and still was to most people. She was pretty, in a girl-next-door kind of way – with her long, dark wavy hair and huge blue eyes – and her appearance made everyone trust her. If her colleagues and friends knew the truth behind it all, knew the person she really was, they wouldn’t believe it. But being married to Howard had brought this side of her out. If he hadn’t been so controlling, she wouldn’t have felt the overwhelming need to rebel and begin having affairs. The first time she’d had sex with someone else she’d felt a huge relief and a fulfilling, smug satisfaction that she’d done something Howard wouldn’t approve of. It had become an addiction, the exciting risk of getting caught making her feel reckless and empowered. Then Jason had offered her a job at the club and he’d welcomed her into a tempting fold where she’d become enticed by the celebrity surrounding Adrian Player, and the thrill of being a part of that world had been too much to resist. It was a spiral, one reckless decision leading right to another, and she did it all without fully understanding the consequences.
Being a wife had been suffocating. As soon as she’d got married, she’d noticed the changes within her, and they’d only built over time.
The first day Rachel had returned to work following some compassionate leave, she had been about to go home when she’d caught a student smoking in one of the toilet cubicles. Dean Grayson, a fifteen-year-old pupil in her media studies class; a charismatic, shrewd lad with no ability to apply himself.
Rachel remembered kicking the toilet door open and finding him leaning against the cubicle wall, smoke drifting out of his nostrils as he grinned at her. He’d been inappropriate towards her on several occasions, wolf-whistling when she leant over the desk to help him with his work, complimenting her on the way her arse looked in a skirt, and once, when she’d had to keep him behind, he’d tried to kiss her.
‘Want some, Miss?’ Dean said now, tipping the roll-up towards her. That’s what she had thought it was, anyway. Instead of reprimanding him, she found herself taking it and drawing the smoke down into the very bottom of her lungs. They’d ignited in response and her whole body had lifted from the ground, like she was some kind of human hot-air balloon. Then they were kissing, and his hands were all over her, and hers all over him. From that day onwards, it became her purpose in life, to reach that high, trying to replicate the very same one she’d experienced in the toilet
cubicle with Dean Grayson.
It was a defining moment in her life, like Rachel had stepped into a secret world, and she had begun plotting and planning how she could hide it from everyone. It was different to the other affairs; she had far more to lose. It had become an exciting obsession, a distraction from everything else around her. Her life was filled with Dean, and how, when and where she could see him next.
This had all worked well for a while, or so she thought. But Rachel had failed to notice that her bad moods were obvious, that her personality had changed significantly, and that the quality of her work had slipped. It was as if she had assumed everyone around her was stupid. It had been fun and exciting at the beginning, but the strong feelings she felt towards Dean had begun to eat away at her, and she became obsessed with him and paranoid about everything he did.
Dead on 2 p.m., Rachel entered the storeroom at the back of the pub – where they often met because it was easy for her to walk from the car park, making it look like she was wandering into the bar for a drink.
She hitched herself on to one of the freezers, opening her long, bare, tanned legs the moment Dean walked in. He went straight over to her, a huge grin on his face. She wrapped her legs around his back and, placing his arms over her shoulders, he slid her body towards him, pressing against her. Dean breathed into her ear before kissing her gently on each closed eyelid, pulling his chin down the bridge of her nose before running his tongue around her open mouth.
‘I’ve missed you,’ he said, licking the sweat from her collarbone as he hitched her skirt further up her thighs.
Rachel was just removing Dean’s T-shirt when Jan, the landlord of the pub, walked in with two other men. Rachel and Dean separated like scalded cats, straightening their clothes.
‘Rachel Fearon? DS Fraser, DC Connor.’ Both officers flashed their warrant cards in front of her. ‘We need to have a chat. Step outside, please.’
Rachel slid off the freezer, tugging her skirt over her thighs, her heart racing, her mind jumbled as she tried to think of what she was going to say. She turned around and gave Dean a look, pleading with him to keep his mouth shut, before stepping outside into the bright summer sunshine.
Before the police had a chance to speak, Rachel foolishly tried to make a run for it, racing across the car park and attempting to scale the back fence before she was dragged to the ground, cautioned and cuffed.
‘Rachel Fearon,’ said the officer who’d run her down, still breathless from the chase, ‘I am arresting you on suspicion of abuse of trust under the Sexual Offences Act. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?’
CHAPTER THREE
The restaurant was full of Sunday diners when Adrian and Gloria Player arrived. A few people looked up when they were escorted to their table, but it wasn’t the kind of establishment where people rushed over for autographs or photos. Nonetheless, Adrian liked plenty of attention and would always insist on a table just off-centre but near the window. Gloria knew it was so that not only could everyone in the restaurant see them but also people walking past on the street outside. Adrian also made sure they arrived a little earlier than the rest of their party, with the idea that they could bed themselves in and be open to anyone who might want a selfie opportunity, even though it was rare for that to happen. It all made Gloria feel extremely uncomfortable – conspicuous, even – and a couple of large gin and tonics were always in order before they left the house while Adrian constantly shouted up the stairs for her to hurry up, causing her to change her outfit again. The gin helped her feel more comfortable in her clothes and was also a way to calm her nerves, so she could deal with Adrian’s temperamental behaviour.
Once they’d taken their seats, Adrian spent the first ten minutes staring out of the window, not speaking; he didn’t turn to her once. She may as well have not been there. She realised, when he touched his tousled silver hair, that he was looking at his own reflection. Adrian had more beauty treatments than she did – spray tans, pedicures, manicures, waxing and massages.
Gloria turned towards the door to see if the others had arrived. The sight of her children always lifted her spirits, but this particular evening she was worried. Things had always been fraught between Adrian and his sons. It was the first time they’d all been together for dinner in a very long time and, depending on what mood Emma was in, it would go one of two ways: exceptionally well or very badly. But Adrian had insisted they meet up to celebrate his birthday – just their immediate family; they’d be celebrating with others throughout the upcoming week.
Scott and his wife Belinda arrived first, and while they were deciding on drinks Adrian and Gloria’s youngest son Brett came in. Emma was late, and that always made everything difficult. Adrian wasn’t Emma’s father. Gloria had been in another relationship before she’d met him, and it had ended soon after she’d found out she was pregnant. Emma had never been particularly close to Adrian, and Gloria, if she was to admit it, knew he had always treated her differently to the boys.
After half an hour, Gloria left the others to chat and went to call Emma to find out where she was. It was quite likely she’d been held up at work and had missed the train. She was an events planner and worked in the city, and it wasn’t unusual for her to stay there after an event.
On her way outside, Gloria spotted Emma at the bar ordering a drink.
‘What’s going on?’ she said as soon as she’d greeted her daughter. ‘We’re all waiting for you.’
‘There’s no hurry, is there? I’m sure Adrian’s keeping you all entertained.’
‘Emma . . .’ Gloria was about to ask her not to cause any problems.
‘Do you want a drink, Mum?’ Emma asked as the barman placed a tumbler in front of her. ‘She’ll have a gin and tonic, please.’
‘I’ve got a drink at the table.’
‘Well, you can knock one back with me, can’t you?’
‘Why not?’ Gloria said, perching on a bar stool. ‘Just one though, eh.’
‘Of course. We wouldn’t want to upset Adrian.’
Gloria sensed something in Emma’s voice but decided not to make anything of it. They chatted for a few minutes, Gloria distracted, anxious that the passing minutes would ramp up Adrian’s temper.
‘Come on,’ she said at last, ‘we need to get to the table. It is his birthday, Emma.’ She pushed her empty glass along the bar and stood up.
‘Sure,’ Emma said, downing her drink and following Gloria into the dining room.
She didn’t know why she’d worried so much. Adrian was entertaining some people on the next table. She could hear his laughter from the other side of the room.
‘Glo,’ he said as they approached, ‘these people are related to Rose Bale. Do you remember? Fantastic gymnast, one of the best. She’s their niece. This is Angie and Tim.’
‘Of course I remember Rose. Hello,’ Gloria said, smiling at the couple, whose chairs were turned towards their table. ‘She won a couple of gold medals, didn’t she?’
‘Yes. It was a long time ago – she’s retired now.’ The man, Tim, looked up at her.
Emma sighed heavily, kissed the others seated around the table and took her seat, muttering something that Gloria didn’t quite catch.
Adrian went on chatting animatedly about Rose and the exact time he’d spotted her talents in one of his gyms. The couple were in awe, as most people were when they met him. Then, to Gloria’s horror, Adrian shouted for a waiter to make room for two more guests at their table.
‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,’ Emma said, quite loudly.
The couple halted and looked awkwardly at everyone around the table. ‘Look, it’s okay, we don’t want to intrude.’
‘Don’t worry about her. It’s fine!’ Adrian stood up to encourage the couple to sit down, which they did, reluctantly. ‘It’ll be my pleasure.’
‘It’s fine?’ Emma stood up, making Gloria nervous. ‘It’s fine? ’
Adrian flung his chair back, startling everyone, and moved towards Emma. ‘Let’s go outside for a chat,’ he said, gripping her arm.
‘Yes, let’s,’ Emma snapped sarcastically, grabbing her bag and making her way out of the restaurant.
Scott’s wife, Belinda, tried to defuse the situation by asking the couple if they were celebrating, did they live far, had they any children – annoying, chittering small talk, but Gloria was glad for it. Moments later the atmosphere lifted and Adrian and Emma were forgotten as the group ordered more wine and drank faster than usual, but Gloria’s nerves were still jangling.
Halfway through a heated conversation about politics, Gloria realised quite some time had passed, and she decided to go in search of her daughter and husband, using the excuse that she was visiting the Ladies.
Gloria couldn’t find them outside when she glanced up and down the street, having assumed they had stepped outside for a cigarette, so she searched the bar, wondering if – hoping – they might be having a heart-to-heart over a drink. They’d never got on, apart from a brief spell when Gloria had first introduced Emma to Adrian when she was just six years old. It had lasted no more than a year, and then Emma had turned into a difficult child, so badly behaved that Gloria had eventually taken her to see their GP. The advice given was that it was normal, and she was probably struggling because Adrian wasn’t her biological father. Gloria was pregnant with Scott at the time and it had been easier to accept these theories, instead of looking a bit deeper or listening to her daughter.
Neither Emma nor Adrian were in the bar or the lounge area. Gloria stepped outside again, wandered up the road and back again, but they were nowhere to be seen. It had been almost half an hour since they’d left.
Gloria stopped in the wide entrance to the restaurant and focused on their table, where she could see Adrian and Emma had joined the others. She frowned, puzzled at where they could have come from.