by Carrie Elks
We kiss, our mouths moving as one, his hand pressing into the base of my spine. I arch against him, tugging his hair when his tongue slides against mine. His breath is hot, tasting of coffee and mints. My skin tingles and all thoughts are replaced by the desperate need to feel him. I cup his jaw, feeling it move beneath my palm as he kisses me harder, then he moans softly.
Pulling away, I bury my face in his chest, afraid to look at him. Because that was possibly the best kiss of my life, and I'm not ready to regret it. Not yet.
He presses his hand against me, angling my head. His touch is firm but gentle, and it excites me.
Before I was scared, now I'm absolutely petrified. Not only did I see a crazy man outside the building, but I also kissed my boss.
I kissed my boss.
It doesn't matter how many times I repeat it, it still sounds absurd. So patently unlike me.
“Are you okay?” he whispers, and I realise his face is buried in my hair. The thought sends pleasure through my spine. I still can't bring myself to look at him. The realist in me knows that at some point we're going to have to move, but the child inside is begging me not to do it yet. Just a few more moments of not having to deal with it, that's all I want.
“I'm okay.” I mumble into his shirt. I lower my grasp onto his toned hips, but that means I'm still touching him. He's touching me, too; one hand on my cheek, the other wrapped around my waist. Somehow I force my eyes open and I'm immediately struck by the urge to kiss him again. It snakes around my body, making me ache for him. His lips part and a breath escapes, and I'm pretty sure he's thinking the same thing.
Then the door opens and we jump apart. There's only a foot between us when Charlie walks into the room, scratching his head.
“What happened to you?” he asks, confused. “One minute you were there and then you were gone.” He notices Callum. “Oh hello, Mr Ferguson.”
Callum nods, saying nothing. I can still feel his fingers even though he's not holding me. Slowly, I bring my eyes to his, and I see the expression I've been trying to hide from.
A combination of excitement and regret.
Is it in my eyes, too? I'm not sure. My emotions are too shaken for me to single them out. I feel like I'm on the edge.
“I didn't feel well,” I mumble. “I'm sorry, Charlie, I don't want to go out anymore.”
“Are you sure?” He sounds confused and I can't say I blame him. Only minutes ago I was heading to the pub with him. How is he supposed to know everything has changed so quickly? That my world's just taken a one hundred and eighty degree turn.
“I just want to go home,” I whisper. I'm not sure if I'm saying it to him or Callum. “I'll feel better then.”
“Okay then.” Charlie shrugs. “I'll walk you to the station.”
My body stiffens at the thought of going out there again. Digger could still be waiting for me, and as much as I like Charlie, he isn't exactly built. In fact he's five eight and pretty scrawny. He wouldn't stand a chance in a fight.
“I'll take her,” Callum says, putting his hand on my shoulder in what must look like a friendly gesture, except I can feel his thumb rubbing circles into my skin. “She's not well enough to go on the tube. I'll give her a lift.”
I keep forgetting he has a car here. Only the senior partners are allocated a space in the underground parking lot. The plebs are expected to travel by public transport.
Charlie shrugs and waves, wishing us both a good weekend as he leaves the office. There's a quizzical expression on his face and I feel a twinge of guilt that I've let him down. But it's nothing compared to the knot of nausea that kissing Callum has caused.
* * *
We drive through the London rush hour in silence. Callum hasn't touched me since we left the office, nor have I touched him. I'm sitting on my hands to prove it.
We head to my brother's flat; I'm too wary to go home, knowing Digger is looking for me. At least he doesn't seem to know about Alex, and right now I need to feel safe.
Safe from what, I'm not sure.
It isn't until we crawl into Shoreditch that Callum finally speaks. “Security are looking at the CCTV recordings to see if they can spot him. They'll want to take a statement from you on Monday.” So that's what he was doing when he went back into his office. “I'll go and see HR on Monday, too.”
I turn in my seat. “HR? Why?”
He swallows, his eyes still fixed on the road ahead. We stop at some temporary traffic lights, and the oncoming cars filter towards us. “I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that. I need to go and tell them.”
My chest feels as though it’s gripped by an ice-cold hand. “Tell them what?”
“That I kissed you.”
My voice sounds strangled. “It wasn't like that. You don't need to say anything.”
He glances at me. “I'm your boss, Amy. You came to me for help and I...” He breaks off, running an agitated hand through his hair, “I kissed you. I'm pretty sure that's against the rules.”
“It is, but I think you'll find I kissed you, too. And if it comes to a choice between a well-established senior partner and an intern who's been with the company for a few weeks, I'm pretty sure I know who they'll be throwing out.”
“I won't let them get rid of you.”
“That's easy to say. But even if they don't get rid of me I'll be known as the girl who kissed her boss. Everybody will look at me differently. I don't want people to look down on me. It's already hard enough as it is being from the East End, and not going to Oxford or Cambridge. There's no need to make it harder.”
“I've fucked everything up, haven't I?” The lights change to green and he slides the stick into gear, pressing his foot down on the gas. “I'm sorry.”
“It's not your fault.”
We're quiet again until we reach the street where Alex and Lara live. Callum finds a parking space about fifty yards away, reversing his car into it with practiced ease. I unclasp my seatbelt and reach down for my bag, barely able to bring myself to look at him.
“Thanks for the lift.”
He walks around the car, opening my door to let me out. He doesn't take my hand or meet my gaze, but somehow that makes me feel better.
“I'll walk you to the flat.”
“There's no need,” I say. “The street is empty, I'll be fine.”
He walks with me anyway, his body half a foot away. I'm hyper-aware of his warmth, his muscles, and for some reason I want to shiver. Instead I keep my back as stiff as I can, not willing to show how he affects me.
“This is me,” I say, inclining my head to Alex's building. I press the buzzer by the front door, waiting for a response. I want Callum to leave, there's no way I can cope with him meeting Alex. My brother can read me like a bloody book. The last thing I need is for him to see me mooning about my boss.
Lara answers and I speak into the microphone. The door clicks open and I reach for the handle, putting my weight onto the wooden frame. “Thank you for the lift.”
I don't wait for Callum’s reply, stepping inside the lobby and pulling the door closed behind me. It's rude and goes against the grain, but I can’t deal with him walking in with me. He stands on the porch for a moment, visible through the frosted glass pane, before turning and retreating down the path, back to his car.
Sighing, I lean my head on the cool, painted wall, tightly squeezing my eyes shut. My mind is full of pounding thoughts and regrets, accusations and recriminations.
I've done stupid things before, but today I've reached new heights. There doesn’t seem to be a way to make things right.
13
“Did Digger say anything to you?” Alex is agitated, stalking up and down the living room like a caged animal, barking out questions. “Did he touch you?”
I shake my head. “He didn't get a chance. I told you, Alex. I ran before he could get close.”
Lara is watching both of us, Max sitting on her lap. Her mouth is twisted into a worried frown.
�
�He's gone too fucking far, I'm going to kill him.” Alex stops, hands fisted by his hips. “I can't believe Mum let it come to this.”
“It's not her fault,” I protest. “She didn't know he was going to turn up at work. None of us did.”
“She should have fucking told you,” Alex shouts, his face red. “She's letting you walk into danger without warning you.”
“What do you mean?” I ask. He's talking in circles. “What should she have told me?”
He stops in front of me, reaching out for my shoulders. His expression softens when he sees the anxiety written on my face. “Amy, babe, there's nothing for you to worry about. I'll sort this.”
He'll sort it? Sort what? “Are you going to pay him?”
“Money doesn't talk to psychos like him. There's only one thing he understands.”
“Alex, stop it.” Lara's voice is light, but there's steel in it.
“You can't reason with an arsehole like him. He only understands violence, Lara. I can talk to him until I go blue in the face, and he'll still be stalking her.”
“So what are you going to do?” Fear uncoils in my belly. “Hit him?”
Alex doesn't answer, grabbing his coat and slinging it on. “I'm going out.”
“Out where?” I grab his arm, but he shakes me off easily. “Alex, where are you going?”
“To see Digger,” he mutters, heading for the door. “He won't bother you again.”
* * *
Lara wakes me with a shake of my shoulder, and when I sit up and unfurl my legs she hands me a cup of steaming sweet tea. Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I take a mouthful, the hot liquid warming me from the inside out.
“Is Alex back?” I feel disoriented; I don't remember going to sleep. It's as if I fell pretty much where Alex left me, the mixture of adrenaline and shock forming a lethal cocktail in my bloodstream.
“He went to your mum's,” she tells me. “I think Andie went over there, too.”
I bring my gaze up to meet hers. “Is he okay?”
Lara nods. “He didn't find Digger. Apparently he wasn't in any of his old haunts.” She takes a sip of tea. “Alex wants you to stay here, I'll make up the sofa.”
“I haven’t got my things here.” My voice is still heavy with sleep. A weariness takes over my body. “I need to go home.”
“Amy, it isn't safe. Alex wants to look after you. Just stay for tonight and tomorrow we'll make a plan.”
“What kind of plan?” I ask. “Who is he anyway? Nobody would be going this crazy about a loan shark.”
Lara looks down at her mug. Her voice is soft. “No they wouldn't.”
“Then who is he? Why's he following me?”
Max cries softly from their bedroom. We stop talking, but he manages to calm himself, his sobs thinning out to silence.
“He's not a nice man, that's all I really know. You'll have to ask Alex about the rest.”
“But nobody will tell me,” I say, frustrated. “I'm so sick of people treating me like I'm some kind of special snowflake. First Alex then Callum...”
“What's Callum done?” Lara leans forward, clasping her hands together. I remember our previous conversation, the one where I confessed that I liked him. That seems like such a weak word for how I feel.
“He kissed me.” If I close my eyes I can still feel the pressure of his lips against mine. The way his tongue pushed inside, claiming me when I was already his. God.
“He did?” She looks surprised. “How, why? What happened?”
She listens while I run through the events of the day. Silent and unjudging. I start to cry and she gently takes my half-empty teacup and places it on the table.
“You've fallen for him,” she whispers.
I don't bother to correct her, because she's right. I've fallen for him, hook, line and sinker. The problem is, I think I've shattered on impact.
* * *
Alex arrives home a few minutes after eleven. Though his hair is dishevelled, a brief scan of his face reveals no bruises or cuts, no signs of an altercation.
“Baby.” My mum follows him in, and she seeks me out immediately. She runs across their small living room, scooping me up into a hug. “I'm so, so sorry.” Her voice breaks on her apology, and when I look at her I'm shocked to see a tear rolling down her cheek.
“Why are you sorry? It's not your fault some psycho's stalking me.” I'm almost flippant when I say it, though the fear remains.
“We should sit down,” she suggests. I notice Alex and Lara have made themselves scarce, closing their bedroom door softly behind them. It makes me feel nervous.
“What's going on?” I twist to look at her, but Mum refuses to meet my gaze. Though she's still holding my hand, it's as if she's building a barrier around herself.
“First of all, I want you to know I only ever wanted to protect you. If I'd have thought for one minute he'd show his face again, I never would have told you what I did.”
“Told me what?” My voice is clipped, mainly because I'm so sick of being kept in the dark.
“Told you about Digger.” She still isn't looking at me. “Told you...”
“For goodness sake, Mum, just spit it out.”
“Told you about your dad. There, are you happy now?”
“What about my dad?”
I think I know where this is going. All these secrets and lies, they've been festering for years and I've been wilfully ignoring them. In spite of all evidence to the contrary, I'm not an idiot. My lungs contract as I wait for her to answer.
“Your dad didn't die in Iraq. He isn't dead at all. But as far as I was concerned he was dead to us, and I never expected to see him again.”
“That guy... Digger. He's my dad?” I lean back from her, snatching my hand from hers. Nausea mixes with anger as I realise I'm the last person to know.
That my dad isn't dead.
“I didn't want you to find out like this,” she whispers. “I begged him to stay away. But he keeps insisting on seeing you, he reckons he's better, but I don't know.”
It's like reading a novel when half the pages are torn out. I'm getting the gist of the plot but the motivation remains a mystery. “Why did you tell me he's dead?” I bite my lip, remembering all those times I wished I had a dad. Seeing other kids at the park with their fathers, lingering in the card shop every June, staring at greetings I could never purchase.
All this time he's been alive? There's a man out there carrying half my DNA and I never even knew it.
“I ran away from him,” I whisper. “I ran away because you told me he's a bad man. I turned my back on my dad.”
Mum sits back, rubbing her face with the palms of her hands. Her week-old manicure is starting to chip, bright red lacquer peeling away to reveal yellowing nails. “He is a bad man. That's why I told you...” Her voice cracks. “You should stay away from him, Amy. We all should.”
The door to Alex and Lara's bedroom cracks open and Alex looks out, catching my eye. “You all right?” he silently mouths. I shake my head.
Is it all right to lie to your daughter for more than twenty years?
Is it okay to pretend her father's dead?
Alex leans on the doorjamb, face soft with concern. He always hates it when Mum and I row.
“Why is he bad?” I swing my eyes back to Mum. She still won't look back at me. She pulls her pink fluffy cardigan tightly across her chest, as if there's a chill in the room.
“Start from the beginning,” Alex suggests, pushing himself off the doorway and walking into the living room. He collapses into the armchair opposite, crossing his ankles as he rests his feet on the coffee table. There's a twitch in the corner of his cheek, as if he's clenching his jaw too hard, and I know he's desperate to make this all go away. He was like this when I was a frightened kid, standing up for me when challenged. Though part of me still longs to be hiding behind my brother while Doctor Who is on the T.V., I know I can't let him do this any more. It's time to stand on my own two feet.
Finally, Mum looks up. “I met your dad in a pub I was working in. It was just after Operation Desert Storm. He was heading to Iraq, and I was lonely and sad.” Her eyes flicker over to Alex. “We hit it off right away.”
In my mind I'm picturing my mum twenty three years ago, flirting across the bar with a short-haired soldier. The image is so vivid I can hear her tinkling laugh as he knocks back a pint.
“What happened next?”
“I thought it was a fling. We only spent a few weeks together before he shipped out. But somehow he found my address and started writing to me, and I wrote back.” She pulls at the sleeves of her cardigan. “I found out I was pregnant with you that Christmas. You were a little surprise for all of us. One minute I was pouring brandy over the pudding, the next I had my head down the toilet.”
“Uncle Les reckoned you'd drunk too much Babycham,” Alex remarks. “He let us watch James Bond while Mum crawled into bed.”
“Did you tell him about me?” I ask.
“I sent him a letter. I wasn't sure how he'd react but he was delighted. He wrote back with a whole list of plans. He wanted us to get married and adopt Alex and Andie. It all sounded too good to be true.”
Alex laughs, short and harsh. “You can say that again.”
Mum shoots him a nasty look. “He sent me some money and told me to spend it on baby things. It was enough to kit out a little nursery for you.”
Her words are making me emotional, and there's a lump in my throat the size of a rock. I imagine her with a baby bump, buying a cot and pram, her face glowing from hormones. It could all have been so different, I could have had a mum and a dad who loved me. We could have been a normal family, so what the hell went wrong?
She's staring into the distance, locked inside her memories. Her voice takes on a wistful edge. “You were born six months later. Uncle Les managed to let Digger know, and he was allowed home to see you. I've never seen somebody so in love. You took to him right away, and as soon as he picked you up you'd stop crying, your face quiet and serious. I was a bit jealous, I think, but when he got down on one knee and proposed, I was so excited.”