by Dani Atkins
I had thought I would say something but all speech was momentarily stolen from me. It was, surprisingly, Cathy who was first to break the silence.
‘Well, this is all horribly familiar.’
Matt shot her an angry look before reaching for the trousers he had obviously carelessly discarded beside the bed. His eyes were locked to mine as he fumbled to struggle into the garment. I’d seen enough, quite literally, in every sense of the word.
I turned away from the bedroom then and quickly began to cross the large living space. I was moving fast but everything appeared strangely dream-like, as though it were all happening in slow motion. From behind me I could hear Cathy say something, which was followed swiftly by some angry barked retort from Matt. I was almost at the door before I heard him cry out.
‘Rachel, wait! Please wait!’
Walking even faster, I got to the door and hurriedly opened it. His next words were silenced by the shutting, not slamming, of the front door.
In the corridor once more, with the dreadful pathetic scene shut firmly away in the flat behind me, I finally drew breath. I hadn’t even realised I’d forgotten to inhale from the moment I’d interrupted my fiancé in bed with another woman. The dizzy feeling that had begun to blur my senses was instantly washed away on a tide of oxygen, and with it too came the pain, and even worse than that, the humiliation. In fact, the only emotion that didn’t assault me was surprise. Wasn’t this, after all, exactly what I’d been expecting to see?
I didn’t wait for the lift but followed the signs for the emergency stairs, only just slipping through the fire door as Matt burst into the corridor, hastily buttoning a shirt over a torso still glistening with sweat from his activities.
Unfortunately he either heard the door, or guessed where I had headed, for he wasted no time in summoning the lift and ran instead down the hallway towards the staircase. I heard the click of the door opening and the call of my name ricocheting down the concrete stairwell. His flat was on the fifth floor: that meant ten half-flights of stairs. I still had a head start. I could do it, if I ran.
He caught up with me before I was even halfway down, my progress slowed by the height of my heels and my blurred vision. Strangely I hadn’t even realised I’d been crying until then. Even so, he must have all but flown down the concrete stairs, his bare feet pounding each tread to catch up with me so quickly. His hand reached out to stop me, with such force that I almost fell, only his quick reactions pulling me back against him preventing me from plummeting down the remainder of the flight. I felt the heat and damp from his body through the thin material of his shirt and recoiled in disgust. It was the heat from her.
‘Rachel, please, for God’s sake slow down before you fall.’
I turned on him then, my anger thankfully hot enough to have dried the tears in an instant. ‘Like you care! As if that wouldn’t be the perfect solution!’
Oddly, a truly stricken look contorted his face.
‘Of course I care. How can you even say that?’
Venom, dark and poisonous flooded through me.
‘Well, I don’t know, let me think… Could it be the fact that less than five minutes ago you were busy screwing someone else?’
His face spasmed at my words and he reached out for me, but I backed away repulsed.
‘Please, Rachel, let me—’
I cut him off. ‘What, Matt? What is it you want to do? Explain? Is that the word? Because don’t bother. I saw enough of your dirty little movie that no explanations are necessary at all. I understand perfectly what’s going on!’
‘Nothing is going on!’ he cried.
‘Really?’ I snapped. ‘That’s not what it looked like from where I was standing! And remember, I just got a ringside seat. I might have amnesia but even I can remember that what you and Cathy were up to is definitely not nothing!’
He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. ‘No, I didn’t mean that. What I meant is that it means nothing to me. She means nothing to me. It was just sex. That’s all it was.’
I feigned a look of enlightenment before rounding on him angrily like a tiger. ‘And that’s supposed to make me feel better?’ He looked helpless, struggling for words and I took advantage of the moment. ‘You know what, Matt? I don’t care.’
‘No, Rachel, don’t say that. You have to let me explain. You have to let me make this right.’
It was hard not to lash out then, not at his words, but at his failure to understand exactly what he had done.
‘There is no “making this right”, Matt. Don’t you get that? Whatever your reason was, it doesn’t matter. Nothing can make this right again.’
‘You can’t mean that,’ he pleaded, and there was genuine anguish in his voice. Not that I’d have weakened then, but his next words sealed his fate completely. ‘And then, last week, when you locked your door on me—’
He never got to finish. Fury like molten lava flowed through my veins. ‘What? Is that it? It’s been like three weeks since my accident so that justifies you in sleeping with someone else? Is that what you’re saying to me? Well, is it?’
He looked worried then, knowing of all things that should never have been voiced, that was possibly the worst thing he could ever have said.
And that’s when Cathy’s words came back to me. The words she’d spoken when I first came upon them.
‘And what did Cathy mean up there, when she said this was “horribly familiar”?’ A slow red flush suffused his cheeks, while conversely I felt the blood drain from mine. ‘What? This has happened before? Have you been having an affair with her behind my back? Is that it?’
‘No, no. Of course not. I told you, this thing today, it was a one-off. It just… happened.’
There was more going on here than he was admitting to, I could feel it.
‘But you’ve been with her before, haven’t you?’
I saw the dull look of confession in his eyes.
Inspiration dawned then, as the nasty little puzzle pieces all came together. ‘Oh my God! I found you with her once before, didn’t I? When we were at uni?’
For one insane moment he actually looked pleased that I’d got my memory back. ‘You remember that?’
‘Not entirely,’ I hissed. ‘But that is what happened, isn’t it? I found her with you and we broke up?’
He nodded miserably. ‘But then you forgave me.’
And I saw then the entreaty in his eyes. I killed that hope before it could even draw breath, crushing and grinding it underfoot to extinguish all life.
‘But not this time, Matt. You don’t get any more chances to do this to me. Not ever again.’
11
I walked for a long time; walked until the boiling rage had cooled and the humiliation only stung instead of seared through me like a lance. Unfortunately, however far I went I couldn’t seem to erase the image that had greeted me in Matt’s room; of their two perfect bodies enmeshed together like some exotic piece of art. I didn’t think anything was going to spare me from having that vision stencilled on my memory for a long time to come. Ironic really, that that would be sticking with me when so much of my life these days was all about the forgetting.
Eventually the cold and sheer exhaustion stopped my restless feet. I looked up at the corner of a busy junction, read a street name I’d never heard of, and realised I had absolutely no idea where I was. I’d been walking mindlessly for several hours and, for the first time since bolting out of Matt’s building and into the street, I made myself stop to consider what I was going to do next. The answer came surprisingly easily.
I hailed a cab within a few minutes and gave him the address of the London flat I’d visited with Jimmy just one week earlier. I asked the driver to stop off once on the way so I could make a few essential purchases. My mobile was ringing continually as we drove through the capital, but I resolutely ignored it, as I had done in the hours since I’d finally torn away from Matt on the stairwell. Eventually he stopped calling, perhaps at las
t realising that all words were superfluous, for there really was nothing left to say.
The driver certainly earned his tip by assisting me into my building with the flat-packed storage boxes I had purchased en route. Once inside my own apartment, although it wasn’t going to be that for much longer, I propped the cardboard containers up against the wall, together with the reels of packing tape, scissors and string I had also bought.
The telephone call to my father was a difficult one. There was no easy way to dress up the situation, and even though I played down the explicit nature of what had happened, his paternal instincts went straight into overdrive. It took almost every last ounce of my powers of persuasion to prevent him from getting on the next train up to London.
‘I don’t like the idea of you being there all alone tonight. You’re just going to dwell on what’s happened.’
‘No I’m not,’ I assured him, hoping the answer wasn’t a lie. ‘I’m going to be far too busy packing to dwell, anyhow.’
Eventually, something in my voice must have convinced him that I was neither manically depressed nor suicidal, for he stopped trying to get me to change my mind and asked only that I call him in the morning. I hung up the phone, feeling certain that the fact that I’d broken off my engagement and was quitting my London flat to return home was not exactly bad news as far as he was concerned. It was too early for me to say if I felt the same way.
I began assembling the storage boxes, distributing them in each room of the flat. I worked methodically, emptying cupboards, drawers and wardrobes as dispassionately as a professional remover; packing up the belongings I didn’t recognise, from a flat I didn’t remember.
I kept very little for the two containers that were returning with me to Great Bishopsford, filling them only with important-looking documentation or old items I recognised from many years before. The charity shops and the local dump could have the rest. I wanted to take as little as possible from this unremembered place with me.
The packing was strangely cathartic, and as box after box was filled and taped shut, it felt as though I was doing more here than just getting rid of possessions. Here at last I’d found the one and only benefit from having amnesia: there was no pain in packing up a life you didn’t remember, no regrets when you were leaving no memories behind.
I lingered only once, over the picture of Matt and me in Paris. Somehow it didn’t seem to belong in any of the boxes, so I created a new pile of items which I thought might have been gifts from him – all too expensive to discard. They could be parcelled up and returned to him sometime soon.
Four hours later I was done. My back was aching, and I was more than a little grubby from my task, but even so I felt for the first time that, despite its horrific revelations, today was the first day I had actually taken a step towards the future and away from the past.
I leaned back against the side of the bed, too exhausted to even get up from the bedroom floor. I just needed to close my eyes for a moment.
Heavy hammering and shouting rumbled from somewhere close by, not near enough to wake me completely. But when the door burst open, with enough force to buckle one of the hinges, that did wake me. From my prone position on the floor I looked up, blinking like a myopic owl in the suddenly blazing bedroom light. I tried to focus on the large shape filling the bedroom doorway, silhouetted by the host of lights from the rest of the flat: lights I knew I hadn’t left on.
‘Thank God!’
My ears recognised the voice, even though my eyes were still too sleep-filled to focus.
‘Jimmy? What on earth are you doing here?’
But he never answered my question, turning instead to a person I had just noticed was standing slightly behind him. The short, middle-aged stranger looked from me to Jimmy, before asking hesitantly: ‘Is everything all right, officer?’
I struggled to my feet, rubbing my eyes as though this were all a crazy dream I could brush away with the movement. I lowered my hands. No, they were both still here.
Jimmy, with a firmly guiding hand, was leading the man back out through the flat to the front door, thanking him all the time for his cooperation.
The man allowed himself to be led away, looking both awed and a touch disappointed at being so speedily written out of a potential drama.
‘If you need me to make a statement or anything…’ His voice trailed off.
‘That won’t be necessary at this time, sir. But I’m extremely grateful to you once again for your assistance.’
I waited until Jimmy had shut the door behind the man and walked slowly into the living room. I said nothing as I watched him return his police ID to his jacket pocket, but the inclination of my head and raised eyebrows said it all.
He looked vaguely embarrassed, but not entirely repentant.
‘Is that even legal?’
‘Is what even legal?’
‘Using your ID to break into someone’s private accommodation?’
His eyes met mine but I couldn’t read his expression.
‘I didn’t break in,’ he corrected, ‘I got the supervisor to open your door.’
‘By telling him what, exactly? That I’m an international terrorist? A dangerous bank robber? An escaped lunatic?’
He look chagrined at the last of my suggestions, before covering the distance between us in two short strides and answering in a low voice. ‘That no one could reach you… That you’d had a recent trauma and then some very bad news. And that you might be… hurt.’
His arms came around me then, and I felt the tremor in his strong hold as he pulled me against him. I saw it all then, through different eyes than mine: understanding why concern had flared so quickly into panic.
‘I take it you’ve spoken to my dad?’ I asked into his shirt-front where my face was still pressed.
‘I did.’
‘Didn’t he tell you I just wanted to stay up here to clear up the flat? That I was coming home tomorrow?’
He sighed deeply, and his voice sounded a little hoarse when he replied. ‘I just needed to speak to you. To check you were OK. And then, when I tried – God knows how many times – to get through to you on your phone…’
‘I’ve been ignoring it. I thought it was Matt.’
He leaned back from me then and studied my face, as though trying to see what it had cost me to speak his name.
Clearly my features were unfathomable, for he questioned haltingly, ‘Your dad did mention something about that: that you’d had a disagreement.’
I gave a small wry laugh that held very little actual humour. ‘Yeah, you could call it that. He thought it was all right to be having sex with Cathy in his flat today, and strangely I disagreed.’
A fleet of emotions crossed Jimmy’s face, too swiftly for me to differentiate one from the other, but I thought I’d glimpsed barely restrained fury as well as something much more gentle and hopeful.
‘Your dad never said that!’
‘He got the edited version.’
Taking hold of my hand, Jimmy gently led me over to the settee and settled himself beside me. I thought about taking back my hand but he seemed in no hurry to relinquish it, so I left it encased in his own.
‘Tell me all about it,’ he urged. His voice was soft and encouraging, once again my confidant and friend, but there was something in his eyes, something I scarcely recognised, that was having a disturbing effect on my pulse.
He stayed completely silent as I recounted my entire day: from the doctor’s appointment, to the discovery of Matt’s betrayal. He was so motionless as I spoke, I had to watch his face extremely closely to glean even a hint of a reaction to my words. The tightening of his jaw when I reached the part when I walked in on Matt and Cathy was the only indication of a fury I knew he was struggling to hold in check.
When at last I was finished, he turned my hand over within his, seeming to take a good deal of time to select exactly the right words.
‘I’m so sorry, Rachel; sorry he did that to you. Sorry h
e’s hurt you like this. I know how much you… love… him. But you deserve so much better than that.’
His face was very close to mine, merely inches apart. I raised my eyes, hoping he could read in them all that I hadn’t been able to say. I saw his head begin to lower, and my lips parted as I half closed my eyes in anticipation. They flew open again moments later as he leant in and gently grazed my forehead with the lightest of kisses.
He got smoothly to his feet then, the atmosphere changing as abruptly as though a switch had been pulled. Not meeting my gaze, which I knew must still be registering confusion, he made a deliberate show of consulting his watch.
‘Look, it’s getting fairly late. Why don’t I go and get us a takeaway or something? I’m sure you’ve not eaten all day, have you?’
I shook my head, not entirely trusting that I’d be able to keep what I was feeling from my voice.
‘OK, I’ll go and get us something to eat. I won’t be long.’
His departure was so overly hasty it was almost comical. How many more times was I going to misread the signals, and have to watch him all but run from me, before I accepted that whatever feelings I had buried deep inside for him should be allowed to rest in peace? There clearly was no chance at all of them ever being reciprocated.
It didn’t take him very long to find a nearby takeaway, and I’d only just finished washing some of the grime of packing from my face and hands before he returned, heavily laden with numerous cartons of Chinese food and two bottles of wine.
‘Are we expecting company?’ I asked, eyeing the array of fragrant containers he was busily opening on the coffee table.
‘Let’s hope not,’ he replied darkly, and it didn’t take a genius to work out who he thought might be planning on joining us. I didn’t think that was even remotely likely; feeling sure Matt would realise that turning up at my door that night was not exactly in his best interests. However, the thought of what might happen between the two men if Matt were foolish enough to put in an appearance made me shudder involuntarily.
I was actually surprisingly hungry and managed to do reasonable justice to our impromptu dinner. As I battled on determinedly, chasing the last morsel from a container with a pair of chopsticks, I noticed Jimmy regarding my healthy appetite with poorly concealed approval.