‘I’ll let you tie me up! I’ll let you! You can do whatever you want with me,’ she sobbed. ‘Not her. Not fucking her!’
I glanced down to a pile of knotted rope at the side of the sofa, still there from my nights with Nat where I indulged in her body in my office, fucking her tirelessly, unable to wait to take my time with her or waste precious moments by taking her to my bed.
I took my moment, settled on a plan and ran with it, the safety of Eli and Maggie my only focus now. ‘I want to see your body in knots,’ I whispered against her. ‘I want to bind you.’ The rocking stopped as she pulled back, a small satisfied smile appearing on her face as she pushed my hair behind my ears.
‘You want to? Really?’
‘More than anything,’ I replied, helping her off my lap and back onto the sofa. I picked up a piece of rope and stood up, towering over her. ‘Hold out your arms like this.’ I motioned with my own, crossed at the wrists. She followed my lead. ‘Good. Now watch.’ I wrapped the rope around her, crossing at her wrists and snaking the rope down her forearms. Securing a multitude of braids along her arms, essentially fastening them together in a tight abundance of knots.
‘Do you like me like this?’ she asked with a shy lip bite.
‘Yes.’
‘Are you going to fuck me now?’
I stood back, needing to get away from her, have some space. I was repulsed by her words, repelled by the situation we were in. I picked up another piece of rope, bent down before her and pushed her legs together. ‘I want these bound first. Watch me.’ She looked at my hands as I intertwined the rope around her legs, securing the backs of her knees with a series of tight knots.
‘Do you want me like this?’ she asked, her eyes pleading. ‘Tell me you want me.’
A shrill noise sounded from the kitchen. A ringing, a pulsing. An alarm sounding off. I stood up and ran to the office door, pulling it open to be met with a strong smell of smoke coming from the kitchen.
‘Daddy!’
‘I’m coming, Eli.’
The steaks Nadia had placed on the griddle pan were now on fire, flames shooting out in a fiery orange glow. I grabbed a tea towel, ran it under the cold tap and draped it over the fire, killing it immediately.
‘Where is she, Alex?’ Maggie gasped.
‘She’s still in the office.’ I knelt to the floor. ‘She can’t get out. It’s going to be OK.’
Eli ran to my open arms and leapt into me, burying herself into my chest. I stroked her curls, telling her I was sorry, that we were going to be OK, that it was all over now, before taking the phone from my pocket and dialing 999.
‘Hello? I need the police,’ I said. ‘Now.’
31
Alex
‘How is she?’ Maggie asked.
‘Confused.’
‘What a night for her. Poor little thing.’
‘What a night for you,’ I replied. ‘Go home and don’t even consider coming back tomorrow.’
‘I’ll go home because I need my bed, but I’ll be here tomorrow, same time. Bright and early.’
‘What did we do to deserve you?’ I asked.
‘Come here,’ Maggie said, opening her arms to me. I welcomed the contact, not usually given so easily between us. We were employer and employee, but this woman played a bigger part in holding my family together than I’d ever given her credit for.
‘You and Eli are important to me. I’ve seen you go through more ups and downs than a Blackpool roller coaster.’ I laughed lightly. ‘It’s a pleasure to be part of your family.’
‘Thank you. That means more to me than you’ll ever know.’
‘I know,’ she replied, hugging me again, her hand sweeping across my shoulders. ‘I know.’
‘Go home.’
‘Did they say where they were taking her?’ she asked as she put on her jacket. The police had sent for medical backup when they’d made their initial assessment. I’d tried to reason with her, remove the ropes and get her some help. She wouldn’t listen, we were too far past whispered pleasantries and false hope. Nadia was sectioned under the Mental Health Act and was on her way to a psychiatric hospital.
‘They’re going to call me in the morning.’ Thank God. I needed sleep and a bourbon. In no particular order.
‘I hope she accepts help. She never really dealt with her grief. She concentrated on caring for Eli, threw herself into being her support.’
‘She didn’t accept any professional help after her suicide attempt,’ I replied, remembering how uncomfortable I’d felt that she’d carried on as if nothing had happened when she discharged herself from the hospital.
‘Are you sure you don’t need to go and get that checked out?’ she asked, wiggling her fingers and nodding to the bloody, swollen mess of my hand.
‘I’ll see how it is in the morning.’ I made a fist, pulled my fingers in and out and grimaced at the thread of pain.
‘What happened?’
‘I punched the Grieving Tree,’ I replied.
‘Because?’
‘It ruined my future.’
Maggie pulled my head towards her and kissed me.
‘What on earth was that for?’ I asked, taken aback.
‘For finally allowing yourself to breathe freely,’ she replied, patting my cheek. ‘Live again.’
‘Maggie, you’re a wonder, you know that?’
‘I don’t know about that,’ she chuckled. ‘But I know someone who is.’ She paused. ‘She’s lovely, Alex. Lisa would approve.’
I swallowed a sob, the effects of the day resting heavy on my mind. ‘That really doesn’t matter anymore, Maggie. I’ve messed up.’
‘How?’
‘I deceived her.’ I shrugged. Fuck, this hurt.
‘You know Nat was here tonight, looking for you.’
‘I vaguely remember you saying something earlier,’ I murmured as I leant over the island and held my head in my hands. I’d never felt so tired, so confused.
‘You need to know something. Nadia told her that she would never compete with Lisa,’ she said. ‘Told her to stop trying, that she’d be walking in Lisa’s shadow for the rest of her time with you.’ I thought back to our confrontation at the Grieving Tree, her words about being unable to trust me, that she didn’t want to compete.
‘This is a monumental mess. I really have no idea how I’m going to resolve it,’ I replied. ‘Or if I can.’ She stroked my arm as she picked up her bag off the worktop.
‘If it’s meant to be, you’ll find a way.’
‘I’ll take you home,’ I said.
‘You’ll do no such thing. Elise is asleep; I don’t want you to wake her just to take me home.’
‘At least let me call you a taxi.’
‘Already done.’ She offered me a smile. ‘You’ll work it out, Alex. She just needs to know that she’s wanted,’ she said. ‘If that’s how you feel.’ I glanced at her knowing smile and matched it with my own. ‘You’ve come a long way.’
‘I feel every mile tonight, Maggie. Every long hour, every flicker of seconds.’
‘Get some sleep.’
‘I need to make things right with Nat first,’ I replied.
‘You’ll have a clearer head in the morning,’ she said. ‘I’ll leave you with some advice from an old woman. Do with it what you will.’
‘Go on,’ I said, my interest piqued.
‘Find a way of making sure that she knows you’re ready for her.’ She smiled. ‘That’s all she needs.’
* * *
I hadn’t seen Nat since the night at the Grieving Tree. She hadn’t responded to my calls or messages. Not even a harsh reply or one-word answer. Eli’s dancing classes had been covered by Nat’s grandmother who avoided all eye contact and disappeared at the end of classes before I had time to ask her where Nat was.
Which was why I found myself outside Nat’s cottage.
Why I walked up to the front door.
And why her grandmother answered on the second frant
ic knock.
‘That was impressively quick,’ I said as she opened the door.
‘Not really. You’ve sat in your car for the last twenty minutes,’ she replied. ‘Gave me plenty of time to work myself out of my chair.’
‘Happy to give you a head start,’ I said as she disappeared back inside, leaving the door ajar.
‘Are you coming in or not?’ she shouted behind her shoulder.
Closing the door behind me, I immediately noticed the abundance of framed photographs of Nat on the wall. There she was in various dance poses, stages of age and hair length. Rex peered out from the kitchen and decided he was going to join us in the living room, walking through before me. I followed him.
Nat’s grandmother was back in her chair, her eyes fixed on a large television in the corner of the room. It had been put on mute, but the moving pictures of West Side Story continued to fill the screen.
‘It’s strange seeing Nat with long hair,’ I said as I sat down in the chair opposite.
‘She suits it short,’ she replied. ‘She has the perfect face.’ I couldn’t agree more, and I missed it.
Rex sat at my feet, bowing his head between his paws and resting on my shoes. ‘Is she here?’ I asked tentatively.
‘I think you already know the answer to that.’
There was silence apart from the muffled noise of her tapping fingers on the arm of her chair.
‘This is one of her favourite musicals,’ she said. ‘We used to watch it together, her mum and her sister. The four of us. Nat could recite the words by the time she was ten.’ She chuckled before drawing in a sob, the intensity of the feelings the flashback had evoked taking her by surprise. ‘Oh, how I miss those times.’ I nodded, understanding her. Memories would live on forever no matter how beautifully painful they were. She composed herself, pulling back her shoulders and returning her gaze to Tony and Maria on the iconic fire escape in New York. ‘Nat can belt out a show tune,’ she said, her smile returning. ‘Voice of an angel with a range to die for.’
‘I’ve never heard her sing.’ The stab of guilt overwhelmed me that I’d never asked her to sing for me, or to talk more about her time in the West End.
‘You’ve watched her dance, though,’ she replied, her eyes widening as she smirked.
‘Yes, I’ve watched her dance.’ I wanted to tell her that I saw her dance when I closed my eyes every night. Could pick up the memory within seconds. The music she played, the look on her face, the stretch of her arms. Intoxicating.
‘I used to smile to myself every time you came and watched her. Oh, the look on your face! Pure love. Pure adoration. You didn’t know it, I could tell, but I wanted to capture that look for her. Press it into a scrapbook.’
‘You sound like you’re on my side,’ I said, taking in her smile.
‘Very much,’ she replied. ‘I knew you loved her when I saw those stars in your eyes.’
‘She doesn’t believe my intentions are good.’
‘That’s what lies do to a person,’ she said. ‘They bury into your head and plant seeds of doubt.’ I watched as she tapped a finger against her temple. ‘Such a shame, Mr Burnett.’
‘Alex,’ I whispered. ‘Call me Alex.’
‘I had many concerns at first, I’ll admit that. I know the aftereffects of grief. I’ve lived with it. Grief changes you. It messes with everything you knew about yourself, turns it upside down and on its head. You need to learn to get to know the person you are now, Alex, and like him. I knew you hadn’t fully accepted that.’
‘Your assessment of my brain is very accurate.’
‘From one survivor to another,’ she said, tapping her nose. ‘Nat was the total opposite of you in that respect. She embraced the person she’d become post grief. She knew she’d changed and would only accept that change if she considered it was for the better.’ She chuckled as she shook her head. ‘Smart girl.’
‘She oozes confidence and self-assurance. It’s infectious,’ I replied.
‘That it is,’ she said, studying me. ‘But I’ve noticed the changes in you.’
‘Like?’
‘You were as cold as a walk-in fridge in an igloo when I first met you.’ I barked out a laugh and scared Rex in the process. ‘I see warmth now. For Eli. For Nat.’
‘Does Nat see that?’ I asked.
‘Well, she isn’t here. Does that answer your question?’
It did, and it scared me.
‘Don’t look so downbeat,’ she said, offering me the biscuit tin at the side of her chair. I took one, because, fuck it, I needed a biscuit to offer me some happiness, if only for the few seconds it took me to devour it. ‘Shall I give you some advice?’
‘Please.’
‘Ever since losing her mum and sister, Nat has needed a certain amount of…reassurance. She left home at seventeen when she couldn’t get the emotional reassurance that I would be around to look after her for the rest of her childhood. The childhood that was already seeping away. She decided to look after herself. To become an adult. Some would say a control freak,’ she whispered behind her hand. ‘She did the same thing when the West End couldn’t give her the reassurance that she was going to be the next big thing. Failed auditions, bit parts, understudy jobs. She couldn’t cope with the constant rejection. So…she took control and came home.’ She glanced at me. ‘And then she met you. A man still recovering from the loss of his wife, the mother of his child. A man who couldn’t give her the reassurance she craved so badly. She wanted your reassurance that you wanted her completely, heart, body and soul.’ This woman made total sense. Now I knew why Nat spoke so highly of her and why she chose to return. ‘You haven’t been able to give that to her.’ She looked around the chair dramatically, pulled out her cushion as if she was searching for something behind it. ‘And she isn’t here, is she? She’s taking back control. Leaving first before you push her away.’
‘Why didn’t I talk to you sooner?’ I replied. ‘You’ve just made more sense than I’ve been able to.’
‘I don’t pretend to know it all, Alex. But I know a lot about Nat.’
‘Tell me everything you know.’
‘I’ve told you the important things,’ she replied. ‘Now tell me yours.’ I narrowed my gaze and she tutted loudly. ‘Are you ready to love again?’
‘I’m ready to try.’
‘Not good enough,’ she said, shaking her head. Rex sneezed on my shoe. A sure sign of agreement. ‘Not good enough for me and certainly not good enough for Nat.’ She picked up a dainty teacup from the dark wood table beside her. It had an ornate handle, only someone of Sherrie’s size and stature could fit their little finger through it. Pink flowers with hints of gold decorated the cup. It suited her perfectly. ‘She said something before she left,’ she said, tapping her chin. ‘Something about never being able to compete.’
I swallowed harshly, hating myself for thinking about Nadia, the woman who planted this seed in her head. She was ill. I knew that, but my anger towards her still bubbled beneath the surface.
‘My sister-in-law told her that. She isn’t well.’
‘Nadia?’ she asked.
‘She was sectioned.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ I nodded in thanks, wondering if I’d ever get to the point where I would feel the same way. ‘Nat always wondered if Nadia had feelings for you.’
‘Turns out she was right.’
She sighed deeply. ‘The things we do for love.’
‘Can you tell me where she’s gone?’ I asked, trying not to sound desperate but the pitch of my voice betrayed me. ‘I’d like to know. To go to her, explain everything, reassure her.’
‘No,’ she replied simply.
I shifted in my seat. ‘OK.’ I dropped my head. ‘Well, can you at least tell me when she’ll be back?’
‘No.’
‘You’re not making this easy.’
‘Why should I?’ she replied. ‘This hasn’t been easy for her.’
‘I want to be h
onest,’ I said, averting my eyes.
‘Look at me then.’ I lifted them and caught her gaze. ‘That’s better.’
‘I feel like I’m coming to terms with moving on,’ I said. ‘At first, it was hard. I wasn’t sure I was ready, and I disregarded my feelings, was sharp and condescending just to push her away. But the biggest challenge, the one that’s kept me awake at night, is knowing how much I would hurt her once she knew the truth about the Grieving Tree.’ It was true. The guilt about betraying the memory of Lisa with another relationship soon slipped away. I hadn’t felt happiness for so long. I hadn’t laughed with another woman, looked forward to seeing another woman. I hadn’t practiced Shibari since Lisa, and the night I bound Nat for the first time – I didn’t fall into a guilty depression or a self-loathing coma – I only felt cleansed.
‘If you knew that, if it was keeping you awake at night – why didn’t you tell her?’
‘Fear of losing her,’ I replied honestly. ‘Of losing again.’
‘Ah, we finally have the truth,’ she said, smiling warmly. ‘The weight of your loss, the aftershock, is showing its true colours. All the dark, drab ones, not the bright golds and silvers.’
‘I’m a textbook case for bereavement counselling,’ I replied, laughing lightly.
‘Think of it this way,’ she said. ‘If you had an illness, cancer, heart disease, liver failure, and the doctors did everything they could to heal you, you received a new organ, you found the right balance of medication or the chemo worked. Despite all of this happy news, you would still be left with the aftereffects of that illness. A shortness of breath. Numb fingertips. A fear of the cancer coming back. It’s the same with loss. You’re left with symptoms. For you, it’s had an impact on your ability to form attachments. You go into protection mode. I must protect my heart from being broken again. This person could leave me. This person could die. I can’t go through that again. You let your guard down with Nat. You let her in. But the protection default in your brain is wired to tell you not to do anything to mess it up. That’s why you didn’t tell her.’ She picked up her cup again, took a sip and I almost asked her how much she would charge for a regular counselling session.
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