Making Love (Destiny Book 1)

by Catherine Winchester

Chapter Fourteen

  I sat there for ages while they tried to determine what was going on. Apparently my story, that a total stranger attacked me for no good reason, just wasn’t believable. They asked me time and again what had happened, and I repeated my story, there really wasn’t much to it, as often as they wanted. When I tried to leave, asserting that they had no legal right to hold me, they threatened to call the police.

  Just the thought of the headlines ‘Will Braxton’s Girlfriend Arrested for Assault’ was enough to make me stay put.

  After having been left alone for almost twenty minutes, the head security guy came back into the office I was being kept in.

  “Your friend tells a very different story to the one you told me,” he began.

  Well, duh! “She’s not my friend, I don’t even know her.”

  “Then why did she attack you?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is what she said, and I’ve already told you that a dozen times.”

  “So tell me again.”

  “No.” I was so angry at the injustice of it all that I was having a hard time being civil.

  In the absence of a reply, he continued.

  “She says that your boyfriend gave her his room key and you didn’t like that, so you followed her and attacked her.”

  “Then she’s lying. We live in London, so we don’t have a hotel room.”

  “Her friends back her story up.”

  “Then they’re lying too.” I sighed.

  “She wants to press charges.”

  Oh, great. “Look, there seems to be a very easy solution to this problem. Ask my fiancé if her story is true.”

  “And where might we find him?”

  I pulled my phone out and navigated to the calendar app. “If everything kept to schedule, he should just be finishing a panel discussion on the influence of Shakespeare on British Film.”

  “You’re trying to tell me that your boyfriend is a guest here?”

  “Yes.”

  “If that’s the case, why haven’t you called him to help you?”

  “Because he’s working and doesn’t need to be disturbed by this petty crap. Haven’t you talked to anyone else yet? They’ll tell you she hit me first.”

  “But she’s the only one with injuries.”

  “What do you call this!” I pointed to my eye, which I could feel was developing a nice bruise.”

  “Her injuries are worse.”

  “Well I’m not going to apologise for defending myself.”

  “All right, so what’s the name of your ‘boyfriend’?” he said it in such a way that I knew he thought I was talking crap.

  “Clearly you don’t believe a word I say, so why don’t you google me.”

  “Google you?”

  “Yeah, you’ve heard of Google, right?” Yeah, I was starting to lose my temper. I reached into my bag and got my purse out, handing him my driving license. “Put my name into Google and see what comes back at you.”

  He took the licence, looking from it to me a few times, then he got his phone out.

  I swear I could see him visibly pale after a few seconds of scrolling, then he gulped.

  “I, uh, I…” He didn’t look away from his phone as he spoke, and I’d be lying if I said his discomfort didn’t please me.

  “Elle? Where is Eleanor Greystone, I was told she was being kept here? Elle, are you here?” I could hear Will calling.

  “Looks like he finished early,” I smiled sweetly at the security man.

  The door opened and Will ran in, flanked by another security guard.

  “Oh my god, what happened?” he asked, kneeling down in front of me and cupping my bruised cheek.

  “Nothing, just a crazy fan,” I tried to brush it off but now that he was here, my strength was crumbling and my eyes were filling with tears.

  Will got to his feet and pulled me into his arms, hugging me tightly, stroking my hair while I tried to calm myself down.

  “How did you know?” I asked.

  “Gossip spreads like wildfire in a place like this; Lee told me there was an incident and he thought it might be you.”

  “You didn’t cut out early, did you?”

  “I didn’t hear until it was over, I came as quickly as I could. Other than your eye, are you all right?”

  I nodded. “Just shaken up a bit.”

  “It’s all right, we’ll get a handler assigned to you so this won’t happen again,” he tried to comfort me.

  “I don’t want that,” I said, pulling away and wiping under my eyes before my mascara could run. “I’m not going to live in fear because of one crazy person.”

  “All right, whatever you want, we’ll talk about it later.” He turned to the head security guard. “What’s happening to the person who attacked her?”

  “Uh…”

  “Her friends were backing her up,” I explained to Will, “so they didn’t believe me, they wanted to call the police and have me charged with attacking her.”

  “Don’t you have cameras in this place?” Will asked them.

  “Uh, we’re looking into CCTV footage from that corridor now, Sir.”

  “When that footage proves Elle innocent of blame, I expect a full apology from you and your staff for holding her here and treating her like a criminal.”

  “Will, drop it, please, they’re only doing their jobs.” Okay, they were doing them poorly, but I didn’t want them penalised. “I just want to go home and forget this day ever happened.”

  He turned to me. “Darling, she attacked you.”

  “And I defended myself. I don’t think she’ll be doing it again.”

  “If we don’t press charges, what will happen?” Will asked the security guard.

  “She and her friends will have their passes revoked and be banned from the event, in accordance with our code of conduct.”

  “Thank you, I presume we’re free to leave now?”

  “Uh, yes, of course, Mr Braxton. I’ll contact the event organisers about providing a handler for Miss Greystone.”

  “No, don’t bother, please. I just want to forget this ever happened.”

  Will led me from the room with an arm around my shoulders.

  “I’ll get a cab home,” I told him.

  “Don’t be silly, I’m coming with you.”

  “You were going to the drama gala though.”

  “Darling, it’s just a film and a party, nothing I can't miss.”

  “But your friends-”

  “Can see me another time,” he cut me off and looked to Lee. “Can you get us a car?”

  “Sure. Do you want me to call a medic?” he asked me.

  “No, I just want to go home.”

  Lee spoke into his phone while he led us towards the rear of the theatre, and we were quickly and efficiently ushered into a car.

  “I’m so sorry,” Will said once we were alone in the back of the car.

  “It’s not your fault,” I assured him.

  “It feels like my fault.”

  “It isn’t,” I assured him, squeezing his hand. Honestly, I didn’t even feel angry any more, I just felt… beleaguered.

  “We’ll stay in tonight, order a takeaway.”

  “No,” I was adamant and turned to him so he could see how serious I was. I didn’t care if I didn’t feel like it, I didn’t care if it would take so much make-up to hide the bruising that I’d look like a drag queen. “The girls will be worried about me, I texted them but they probably have their phones off. We were going to go out after the film and I won’t let them down.”

  “Darling, you’ve had a terrible shock.”

  “I’m not letting one unstable person make me hide in the shadows, Will. Bad stuff happens every day and if it hadn’t been a jealous fan, it could have been a mugger, or a burglar, or a rapist. In the grand scheme of things, I got off lightly and I won’t let her stop me from enjoying my life.”

  “All right,” he gave in gracefully. “Whatever you want.”

>   So I got ready, caked my face in layers of foundation and powder, and my eyes in black and grey eye shadow to try and disguise the swelling. Will insisted on accompanying me rather than going to the gala. The girls all wanted to know what happened and tried to offer sympathy but I didn’t want to hear it and I pushed their sympathy away.

  I partied like it was the end of the world. And I didn’t enjoy a single moment of it. Not even the alcohol helped boost my mood.

  By 11pm I’d had enough and Will was more than happy to escort me back home.

  We made love but it felt weirdly mechanical on my part.

  ***

  The next day I insisted on accompanying Will to the film he’d booked, ignoring his protests. And despite my own worries, if I’m honest. I was hyper aware of everything that was going on around me, especially when he stopped to sign autographs and take pictures with fans, I just pretended that I was okay.

  My makeup was a little lighter today, but the foundation and concealer was even thicker to hide the now rather purple bruising.

  Of course the internet soon learned about the attack and the press began reporting on it, so I endured calls or texts from my sister, mum, Laurie and a few other friends. I assured all of them that it was nothing and I was fine.

  Although I hadn’t planned on seeing anything the day after, I insisted on going with Will and he duly got me a ticket. I hardly took in anything about the film we saw and I plastered a false smile on my face for the party afterwards.

  The police wanted to speak to me and after the women in question began to spread lies about what had happened, Lee advised me to give them a statement and eventually, I did. I still didn’t want her charged and I couldn’t even think about giving evidence if it came to trial, so eventually they gave her an official caution, which at least shut her up.

  My work was suffering and I didn’t know why. I was putting the hours in but I wasn’t feeling it. I know it sounds odd to think that you should feel a connection with a drawing of a hedgehog or a logo, but I usually do. I didn’t understand what had changed but no matter how hard I tried, I might as well have been connecting the dots or painting by numbers, my sketches were that mechanical.

  I could sense a distance growing between Will and I and honestly, I was so irritable most of the time, I found it hard to care. On the final night of the festival I went to the awards, I even bought a new dress for the occasion, voluntarily, even although I insisted on going in and out through the rear entrance and came nowhere near the red carpet, so no one could photograph me. I smiled in all the right places, I didn’t enjoy myself, or the dress.

  About midway through the evening I went into one of the bathrooms to check that my makeup was still covering well but when I caught sight of my overly made up reflection in the mirror, I realised that while I still looked like me, it didn’t feel like me looking back.

  I realised that was how I felt, as if I was disconnected from my life, I was going through the motions, pretending to live my life, but I was emotionally numb. Well, I either felt nothing, or I felt short-tempered.

  Was it some kind of defence mechanism or something?

  I didn’t know, so I carried on as if nothing had happened. I smiled, made small talk, kissed Will when he won and made love to him when we got home, but it was as if I was watching myself do those things and not actively participating in them.

  Two days later the anger came. The events of that day began to play over and over in my head, like a scratched record. By reviewing the CCTV footage, security had eventually discovered that after having recognised me, she and her friends had followed me around for the rest of the day, until I was on my own.

  I began to wish that I’d pressed charges, and that I could sue her and drag her through the courts, humiliating her the way she’d humiliated me, making her worry, like I was constantly worrying. I decided to take a shower, because I was full of nervous energy and hoped it might relax me.

  Once under the hot spray, my anger soon vanished and was replaced by tears as I began to sob, and I didn’t even know why. It had been a week since that girl hit me, so crying now made no sense at all.

  Will heard me crying and climbed into the shower with me, getting his sweats and t-shirt soaked.

  He turned off the water and held me.

  Once my tears stopped, he dried me off, wrapped me in a robe and settled me on the sofa while he poured me a large whisky.

  “It’s medicinal,” he assured me, because it was only 1pm. “It’s all right to be vulnerable sometimes,” he said gently. “You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

  “I think I was in shock,” I admitted. “I just felt numb, and now I feel like I’m bi-polar or something.”

  “I’m sure it’s a perfectly natural reaction. You might not have been badly hurt but you had a nasty shock, so you shut down for a while until you felt safe, until you could process it.”

  That made a little sense, I supposed.

  “I’m sorry for how I’ve been behaving.”

  “You’ve been fine, darling.”

  “I keep snapping at you.”

  “I’m a big boy, I can take it.”

  “I know I worried you.”

  “That’s allowed,” he smiled. “Just go easy on yourself.”

  “I’m not trying to be hard on myself, it’s just…” I tried to put into words how I was feeling. “I mean, I’ve been hit harder in hockey practice at school.”

  “But you were prepared for some kind of confrontation then, no? It’s a competition. In this instance, you were completely unprepared to be attacked.”

  “It still feels so trivial though.”

  “I know, but you’re trying to ignore it and pretend it didn’t happen. Imagine if Hannah had been mugged, not seriously hurt but shaken up; you wouldn’t expect her to get over that immediately, would you?”

  I was reluctant to admit it but, “No.”

  “Then allow yourself that same leeway.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “That’s all I ask.”

  I hugged him tightly. “Thank you.”

  “What for?” he chuckled as he wrapped his long arms around me.

  “For not losing your temper with me. I know I haven’t been easy to live with.”

  “It’s my fault this happened, what kind of man would I be if I got angry with you for something that was my fault?”

  I pulled away enough to look up at him. “This isn’t your fault.”

  “She attacked you because of me.”

  “But you didn’t tell her to. You can't control how other people behave.”

  “It still wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t met me.” He looked so distressed that I felt bad that I hadn’t seen it sooner.

  “Into every life a little rain must fall, but you’ve brought me far more sun than rain.”

  “Do you mean that?”

  “Every word. I love you so much, I can't imagine my life without you.”

  “I love you too.”

  He kissed me and when we made love, it didn’t feel mechanical.

  ***

  It wasn’t as if I went from a manic episode one moment, then flew into a mad rage, my mood swings were nothing as severe as that, but I wasn’t used to feeling angry or annoyed so often, nor feeling so flat and sometimes tearful.

  My mood swings might have been mild, but it still felt as if my emotions had been hijacked, which wasn’t a comfortable way of being.

  Now that I was finally aware of my behaviour, and the reason for it, it actually became easier to cope with. Will insisted that I talk to him about what happened, although honestly it felt as if I was complaining over nothing. In the grand scheme of things, getting a black eye was minor and I felt as if I was ungrateful and whining to even recount the event, and especially to admit that it had affected me in any way.

  But it had and Will knew that, and he badge
red me to breaking point. I finally admitted how scared I sometimes felt since that day, and how on seeing a fan approach him, for just a second I wanted to shrink away and hide while he dealt with them.

  Talking about it and admitting how I felt was more helpful than I could have imagined and about a month after it happened I felt back to normal again. I had never before appreciated how much I take being on an even keel for granted.

  There was even an upside in that I had a new understanding. In the grand scheme of things, this was just a blip on my radar but it had still altered my behaviour and moods in ways I would never have believed possible beforehand, and I could certainly see how more traumatic events could induce conditions such as PTSD, anxiety and depression. I would never have wished to get clocked but I had learned something from it.

  The good news was that I was back to normal well before Christmas, because we were going to stay with Will’s mum, Diane, for a few days. This would be the first time I had spent more than an evening with her and I really didn’t want her to think that her son was dating a basket case.

  ***

  His mother was lovely to me, and had been since the day I met her. I could see a lot of her in Will, such as his warm nature, his generous spirit, and his open mindedness.

  Her cottage in Suffolk was lovely, warm and cosy but not chintzy. I’d immediately felt at home here, thanks as much to the owner as the décor. Will’s younger sister, Emily, and her husband, Jack, were there too and it was a wonderful time.

  We arrived a few days before Christmas and enjoyed long walks on the beaches (wrapped up in a dozen layers, I hasten to add; there was nothing tropical about an East Anglian beach in winter) but it was nice.

  Come Christmas day, we all met for a drink late morning, then we exchanged gifts. I’d got everyone a proper gift, then I’d also done framed sketches of them, adding a little personal touch to the proceedings.

  I’d anguished for ages over what to get Will. His birthday was soon after we first began dating, so I had only bought him a small trinket, nothing particularly special. We’d been together for 11 months now though, and I wanted something meaningful. What did you get for the man who had everything though? It took ages for me to decide but after roping in some clandestine help from Lee, I managed to get in touch with Stephen Boyde, who had written one of Will’s favourite books, and got him a personalised, signed first edition of Any Human Heart.