by J. S. Wilder
“Yes, dear. I can’t wait to see you and your new boyfriend.”
I hang up the phone. I have so much energy and happiness coursing through my body. I passed my exams and am ready for the big party tonight. I’ve saved up a bit of money from working here, so Kevin and I are going on holiday together during the summer. I can’t wait. I’m going abroad, and maybe there is hope for me and Mum. After all, we’re both wiser now, and as they say, time heals wounds.
Maybe she’s seen the error of her ways. Maybe I was too quick to judge her and should have been more compassionate about what she needed, instead of bringing her down all the time about it. Who knows? There’s so many maybes, and not enough answers. One thing is for sure; I’m going to enjoy myself tonight for the first time in a long time.
I’m too drunk and carefree to worry about anything right now. I kiss Kevin on the lips a bit too many times. Not that he’s complaining; he says as long as he’s the only man I’m kissing like that, then it is fine with him.
“Who’s going to change the barrel?” Harvey shouts. He’s the only guy on the shift and weighs about two hundred pounds. He should be doing it himself. I suppose that’s the bonus of being the boss; you get others to do the labour.
“Me, me!” I answer excitedly. It’s the last time of changing the barrel, because after tonight, I’ll never have to do it again. I know being a waitress is hard work and at times. I get fed up of it and frustrated, but the other side of the coin is you get to work with great people, and at times, have too much fun, like tonight.
I go, stumbling down the thin cellar staircase. Kevin grabs and holds me tightly, and then he pins me against the wall. Damn, he’s still hot from last night. It’s so dark in here I can’t see a thing. He uses his tongue to circle my ear, then my neck, and eventually, while using one hand to hold my wrists above my head, he thrusts his tongue into my mouth.
I want to move my hands, but I can’t. I’m so engrossed in the kiss. He smells so nice too, and I start to wonder, When did he use such strong cologne? Musk, the scent of…
I wanted to open my eyes, but then he sticks two fingers into my wetness. I can’t resist, even if I wanted to, because I’m lost in the moment. The more I moan, the more he circles and pinches my clit…until he pulls away from me.
“Wha—? I was just about to come!”
I open my eyes and he’s gone. Oh, so you’re playing tricks now, Kevin Jones? I’ll get you. My knees are weak, and I forget what I’m doing here in the first place. I giggle to myself as I straighten up my short, black dress and think about how he won’t have to worry; he’ll get some more tonight. He won’t know what hit him.
I change the barrel with ease. Being drunk and horny helps me do it. My adrenaline is pumping from the way Kevin just grabbed me down there. “Wow, tiger,” I whisper as I slap his butt when I manage to find my way up the stairs. “Hmm, didn’t get enough last night…or just now?” I ask as I bite his ear and walk of, shaking my butt at him. Last night, we tried it up the arse, but I didn’t like it. Now, I’m thinking in my drunken state I’m ready for anything.
“What?” Kevin shouts out confused, or it could’ve been, “Wait!” I want to make my way back to him to find out what he said, but I don’t even get the chance, because Cassie is grabbing my hand and we’re moving toward the dance floor.
“Come on, bitch. Shake that arse!” she yells as I think about how I’m going to pay Kevin back for what he did: with kindness and a whole lot of fucking.
Chapter Eight
I’m exhausted from last night. Kevin and I were completely wild back in my room. Michelle left early¸ said she had an issue back home, so she never made it to the party, which is a shame. We’ve promised to stay in touch.
I must have a really bad hangover, because now I’m seeing things.
“Henry?” I question as I gaze at the middle-aged man with white hair standing in front of me as I’m waiting at the roundabout for Kevin. It feels like I’ve been standing here for eternity. I start to question, My God, where did he park?
“Yes, Ms Withers, Mr Sparks would like to speak to you.” I’m too busy thinking about Kevin and never realised Henry was talking to me. After all, the Sparks family sponsors the university, and Simon is an old student. I thought maybe Henry was picking himself up something in memory of his employer. I’m not interested. I just don’t like the idea of standing at the roundabout like a hooker.
“Is he here?” I blurt out. I’ve emptied out everything in my room and am waiting for Kevin, who has borrowed his dad’s car to drive me back to sunny South London. Now, I have the ghost from Christmas past standing in front of me. Seriously, am I still drunk?
“He told me to give you this if you refused.” He passes me a letter, and I look at him in confusion. It has been three years since I last saw Henry. I would have expected the man to age a little bit, or at least have grown a bit of a personality.
I take the envelope and look at it. It’s addressed to me, and I can only assume it has been written by Roy. I stop to think about the fact no one has written me a letter in a very long time. I open it up like an excited kid on Christmas day. Maybe he’s going to give me a bonus for working so hard on my exams, or he’s congratulating me.
Dearest Deborah,
How are you?
I know I have not been in touch a long time. I couldn’t; Mrs Sparks wouldn’t let me. She was terribly mad when she found us. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so upset. One thing it did do was bring us closer together. I miss her and wish she were here with me.
After all, her death should affect you too. Even after the way she found us, she still paid for your tuition. I need you to help me. I hate writing this, and I say it with a heavy heart. If you don’t, then I expect all the money the Sparks family has used to pay for your tuition and accommodation to be paid within 30 days. If not then, we will have to use re-enforcements to recoup the full amount of 50,000 pounds.
We both know you would not want that, so please jump in the car with Henry and hear what I have to say about the matter.
I need your help.
Every minute counts.
Yours faithfully,
Roy
I freeze with a sickening feeling in my gut, rereading the words over and over again, hoping this is some sort of sick joke. I lift my face up to the sky and hold out both hands. “God, why now? Do you really hate me that much?”
As I continue my argument with God, Henry abruptly commands, “I’ve loaded up the car. Let’s go.”
This is when I notice all my things are no longer at the edge of the roundabout, but in the car. I was too busy reading the letter and arguing with God to notice what Henry was doing.
I’ve only met the man twice and I never thought I would see him again. He nods and holds the car door open. Great, he knows I’m getting in the car, and I know I’m getting into the car, so why am I stalling? Sometimes, Debbie, you’re too stubborn for your own good.
I want to call Kevin. I need to explain to him what’s happening. Why did I never tell him about the events that led to me joining the university? Why did I keep it a secret from him for so long? I ponder what I would say to him. I look down, see a drain, and drop my phone into it; it was my instant reaction. I know what I’m like with Roy. He’s going to use me again. The realisation of it all hits home, as I have no choice but to go with Henry. I jump into the Land Rover with Henry, as he holds the door wide open, anticipating my next move. He really came prepared; he brought the right car to hold all of my belongings. It is almost like it was all planned. How did he know I would be standing at the roundabout? Had he been watching me?
Also, how did he know today was my last day? Roy said if I never got in the car, Henry should hand me the letter. How did he know I wouldn’t refuse once I had read the letter?
Money, that’s how. People with it always know bullying people without it will work. Well, it worked this time and probably all the other times they have done it.
&
nbsp; One thing I knew for sure: Kevin and I are over. I will surrender to Roy once again. He’s got me without even trying. I just hope I won’t be too long; otherwise, Grandma will be worried about me when I don’t show up.
Chapter Nine
As I sit in the Range Rover, there’s only one thing going round and round in my head. What does he want this time? I look out the window after putting the radio on since I’ve asked Henry a dozen times what Roy wants, and his response is always the same. “The best thing to do, Ms Withers, is to ask him when we arrive at the house.”
That is not the answer I want.
Not what I need to hear.
I just want to go home.
Three long years I’ve waited to return a graduate, so I could give myself and my family a better life. I thought the news of Mrs Sparks might prevent it from happening, but it never did and I was going to go home, back to sunny Tulse Hill. As much as I hated the idea, with the man I love by my side, we were talking about taking our relationship to the next level and moving in together after I finish my teacher training, eventually even marriage and kids. My future was gold, more than I ever dreamt could happen, and it was happening until now.
“Fuck!” I scream in the front seat, thinking I would get a reaction from Henry, anything so I could know my fate. Instead, he puts the brakes on full force and says, “Throwing a tantrum, Deborah Withers, will not make this stop. It’s best for both our sakes you enjoy the ride, and when we get to the house, you can ask MrSparks all the questions.”
It’s then I hear the horns and realise we are in Chelsea, not far from the house, which means only a few more minutes. In a few moments, Roy and I will be face-to-face once again. I’m silent; I have nothing to say. I sit, scared, frightened for the first time in a long time.
***
Henry tells me to step outside the car and into the house. “I’m going to park the car in the garage.”
“My things?” I question, remembering what happened the last time I left him with them. They ended up, up in smoke.
“I’ll bring them in.” He chuckles to himself as he sees the troubled look on my face. “Scout’s honour.”
I nod, close the door and walk up to the house. As I arrive at the front door, I look up. Wow, the house is the same. The identical black, grand doors and potted plants are still at either side of the door, and the hanging basket hangs high at the top. I’m just about the press the bell when Betty, the maid, opens the door, just as if I was transported back to three years ago, with one major difference.
She’s far from the cute, chubby housemaid I once knew. She’s in a black power suit, and her once curly grey hair is now brown and cut in a short bob. She no longer has the smile and comfort of my Grandma; it’s more like the smirk of Mrs Sparks.
“Come in, dear. I won’t bite,” she says as I stand at the door, trying to figure out if it’s Betty, or if it’s an older version of Mrs Sparks before me. I shake my head to try to get rid of the confusion. Maybe the four-hour car ride has made me so tired I’m seeing things.
I want to call Grandma and tell her my plans have changed and I’m in Chelsea, but Henry said Roy had already taken the liberty of calling to tell her I had been detained and agreed to go to the Sparks’ for the weekend before returning home.
I hate that. I feel like it’s a conspiracy. Everyone knows what is going on or happening, apart from me. Betty was my only comfort, the only one I thought would help me in this trail of events. Looking at her cold eyes and smile as I slowly walk into the house, I get the impression that’s the furthest from the truth. I’m on my own, especially here. As I stand in the hallway like a lost lamb, Betty glares at me from head to toe, almost like she’s scanning me. I can’t speak I’m in so much shock.
As if my mind has conjured her, what do I see staring at me from the bottom of the staircase? A larger-than-life framed picture of Mrs Sparks, and it sends a shiver down my spine. Even in her death, she still haunts this house.
No…she just haunts me.
Chapter Ten
I’m guided to my room as if I would’ve forgotten where it is. That room is vivid in my recollection. Unlike before, Betty doesn’t fill me in on the gossip; she merely recites the rules, like Mrs Sparks did when I lived here three years ago. This time though, the rules are completely different, almost like a schedule, and I wonder, but am too scared to ask, how long she expects me to stay here.
“You can roam around the house, but you must restrain from going downstairs like you did before. The code has been changed. Breakfast is served at nine. Lunch is at one. Dinner is at six-thirty. I expect you at each meal and to be dressed appropriately. The maids in the house are not your slaves, so I don’t leave your room a mess. I expect your bed to be made in the morning and for you to clean up after yourself in the bathroom.”
She holds out her fingers as if she’s running through a shopping list. I wonder if Mrs Sparks’ spirit has taken over her body. This is too surreal, so as I drop my bag on the bed, I blurted out, “Mrs Sparks?”
She glares at me with disgust, and I watch as her lip curls as she speaks, “Do you think this is some kind of joke?”
My eyes wonder around the room; everything looks the same, including the golden bed linen, matching wallpaper, the antique wooden side table and cream and gold armchair, where I stood and Mrs Sparks fondled my breasts. I smirk as I recall her asking me to touch her breasts, and wonder if Betty will do the same in her business suit.
“Do you…think this is a joke?” she asks again, waiting for a response.
“No,” I say simply, too tired to have an argument, especially with an older version of Mrs Sparks. I want time to think about things and where to go next.
She doesn’t say anything; she walks out of the room in her heeled Clarks, and as she shuts the door, she says, “Mr Sparks will be home on Sunday night at seven. I expect you to be ready, and dinner will be served at that time.”
I slump on the bed, wanting to cry, Sunday?! It’s only Friday afternoon. I check my watch and see it’s four; dinner is served at six-thirty. What am I to do for two and a half hours? I look at the phone and decide there is only one thing I need to do: call Grandma.
As I dial her number, my fingers start to shake. I asked Betty about making phone calls, and she laughed and said, “This is not prison, dear. Don’t ask foolish questions.” Really? You drag me out of my life to come and stay in this house, and then one of the explicit rules is I am not allowed to leave without Mr Sparks’ permission. How is this not prison?!
The old Debbie would have cried and felt nervous about her future, but the new Debbie will not fall apart, nor be intimidated by the Sparks, especially Betty, who seems to feel she is one of them now and not the person I once knew.
“Grandma!” I shout as she picks up the phone. The relief of hearing her voice puts my mind at ease.
“You okay?” she asks, surprised at the tone of my voice.
Should I tell her the truth? Nah, she’ll only worry. “Sure.”
“Why didn’t you tell him before?”
“Sorry?” What is she talking about? Who?
“Kevin. I thought I brought you up to be better than that. You know what your dad did to your mum. I never thought you would do the same. Or is it the genes?”
Genes? God, I hope not. I would never do what my father did. He let my mum believe for years he loved her, and left her as soon as he got his stay. That wasn’t enough for him though, because as soon as he got his stay, he married another woman and used mum to set up his business ventures. My eyes scan the room, wondering what Grandma knows and if I should come out and ask her.
“I told him, love. You found it hard to break-up with him,” Grandma sighs whilst letting out a puff of air on the phone.
I can’t think straight.
“Why? I mean…why would you do that?”
“Debbie, dear, when you come, we will talk. He saw your phone scattered on the roadside. He was worried, and then I told him
about the call and he was quiet…so quiet.”
She screams out in frustration and my eardrum nearly shatters. I take the phone receiver away from my head. She couldn’t believe what? I was told Roy had called her and told her I was safe. Silly me, why would he say that? But more important, why would Grandma believe him?
“Mr Sparks came and explained the situation. Anyway, I’ll see you on Monday, love. It’s Rachel’s birthday, remember? She’ll be twenty. Shame…thought you would be here to help. But…Monday, we’ll talk. We have too much to talk about.”
With her last words, she hangs up the phone. I could hear the disappointment in her voice, but then so many questions came to my mind. As I sit with the receiver in my hand, it hits home. I’m with the Sparks. Nothing has changed; lies, lies were all they’ve ever known, and all they’ve ever done as far as I’m concerned. I shouldn’t be so confident. I shouldn’t feel like I’m going to be in control. One thing for sure is I am far from it.
Chapter Eleven
I had a quick shower and changed into my jeans after speaking to Grandma. Henry had been true to his word and my clothes were brought to my room. After, I decided to explore the house. I wander through the halls like I did three years ago. Apart from the larger-than-life picture of Mrs Sparks, nothing much has changed. The furniture is as cold and expensive as it was before. I head to the library, remembering my encounter with Roy—the first time he kissed me, the first time I had been kissed, the way he touched me with experience and the knowledge of how to arouse me. He left me wanting more with his silky lips and talented tongue. The man could kiss. All the times I kissed Kevin had never been like that.
Then, it hit me like a hammer to a nail: the kiss in the basement the night before…it wasn’t Kevin; it was Roy. It was Roy who had taken me, wrapped his hands around me like he did the first time we kissed.