The Girl I Used to Be

by Mary Torjussen

  SIXTY

  GEMMA

  I WAS EXHAUSTED after that conversation with Rachel. I wanted to just go to the police and tell them everything, but I knew I had to get her to agree to that for her own sake. She’d been so powerless for so long; she needed to have some control now.

  While I waited for Rory and my parents to come home, I went back to look at the rest of the photos from the party. David wasn’t in any of them, and after a flurry of early photos, neither was Alex. There was one photo of Lauren on her own; Jack must have wanted to take a last shot of her before she left. She was standing in the hallway at the foot of the stairs looking impatient, and I realized she must have been calling my name. I felt sick at the thought of what had just happened to me. The front door was wide open and I wondered whether David had run out just a minute before Lauren was there or whether he’d waited upstairs until he’d heard me leave.

  I made myself go through the albums again. I saved each photo in sequence to a new album I set up on my iPad. There were hundreds and I knew I wouldn’t need them all, but I kept them anyway. I couldn’t take the risk of Jack taking them down again or, worse, deleting them. Quite why he’d do that, I had no idea, but the thought of it made me panic.

  By the time my parents arrived back with Rory I was desperate for him. I didn’t want them to go off with him again; I wanted to spend time with him. But I knew, too, that I had to get this sorted and that would involve time away from him. I vowed things would change then.

  While I played with Rory and cooked him some dinner and listened to his stories of what he’d done that day, all I could think was: What did Rachel mean that she wanted us to tackle him ourselves? When I knew things would be quiet at work, I sent her an e-mail.

  What did you mean?

  Quick as a flash, she replied: I think we should talk to him first. See what he has to say. Catch him off guard.

  He’d just deny it, I replied.

  A minute later she sent another e-mail with a link to a website. I clicked on it, and when the site opened I stared in disbelief. It was a site that sold covert recording devices and on the screen was a button that operated as a camera. A button that you could sew onto a shirt or jacket. It looked just like any button you’d have on a shirt and the set came with extra buttons so that all the buttons on your shirt would match. I looked closely at the button with the camera installed. I couldn’t tell it was there! And then the description stated it was a video recorder, too.

  I replied: What is this?

  He had it on his shirt when you had dinner.

  How do you know? I asked. Did he tell you?

  It was several minutes later that she replied, and when I saw her answer, I guessed she hadn’t wanted to reply at all.

  I sewed them on. I’m so sorry, Gemma.

  I felt fury then, that they’d done that to me. And she’d known about it. I’d talked and talked that night and all the time he was recording me. And of course he was in my room, too, and all that would be recorded, too.

  Was there anything else? I asked.

  I don’t know. I don’t think so.

  I need to go, I replied, and switched off my phone. I couldn’t stand to talk to her right then.

  SIXTY-ONE

  GEMMA

  THAT EVENING, AFTER Rory had gone to bed, I sat with my parents and watched a film on television. I could see them eyeing me cautiously. They knew that I had something on my mind, I could tell. When the film ended there was an awkward pause where my dad opened his mouth to speak and my mum shook her head. I pretended not to notice, but stood up and yawned, saying I was ready for bed.

  I called Joe from my bed that night, but when he answered the phone, all I could hear was background noise.

  “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said when he called me back a few minutes later. “I was watching football at The Crown. I’ve missed you, Gem. It’s lonely here without you and Rory.”

  “Lonely in the pub?” I teased. “Sounds like you’re having a good time.”

  “I was the first night,” he admitted. “It was great. I’m never in the house on my own usually.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. He had plenty of chances to go out, what with running and football and seeing his friends, but of course if he was in the house, Rory was there with him.

  “Did you like it?”

  He laughed. “Last night was really weird. The daytime was fine. I finished the kitchen and it was so much easier without Rory there. But . . . it made me think of how different my life is now compared to how it was. And it was nice going out when I wanted and staying out late. But then when I got home the house seemed so quiet. I didn’t like it!”

  “I know. I didn’t like it when you were away, either.” He was quiet and immediately I felt guilty. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t want to get into point scoring.”

  “Me neither. I thought you’d like it, though.”

  “I like the idea of it more than the reality.”

  “Me too,” he said. “When will you be back?”

  “Not long,” I said. “A couple of days.” And then suddenly I found the courage to be open with him. “But, Joe, we need to talk about things. I’m not happy with the way things are.”

  There was a strained silence. “You’re not happy with us?”

  “Of course I am. It’s just work. It’s not working out, the way it is. Not for me. I can’t do it much longer.”

  “What? You can’t work?”

  “I can. Of course I can. But it’s not how I want to live.” I struggled to stay calm. “I miss Rory. I’m . . . I’m jealous of you.” I could hear that he was about to speak and hurried on. “I feel outside the family. As though I’m just there to bring in the money.”

  “Oh, now . . .”

  “Don’t. Let me say this. Sometimes I feel it’s like you and he that are the family. That’s what I see. He turns to you first. You always know what’s best for him. I hardly see him some weeks. I’m up before him a lot of the time and I have to work most nights after he’s gone to bed. I’m so tired.” I couldn’t stop the tears. “And I love the way you are with him. It’s great. But I love being with him, too. I want to do things for him.”

  “But you do! He looks forward to you coming home all day.”

  “But when he cries now, he goes to you. I’m his mum! He should be coming to me!”

  “Gemma, sweetheart, don’t be daft. We’re both his parents.”

  “I know. I’m just saying I want things to change. I don’t want to work nonstop. I want to be part of his life. I’m happy to work, but . . .”

  He said nothing. I had no idea what I was even thinking, but then I blurted out, “Why should it always be you at home and me at work? Why shouldn’t I be at home some of the time? Why can’t you go out to work as well?” I knew this would hurt him. I knew he’d think that I was criticizing him. But once the floodgates were open I couldn’t stop. “Sometimes you make out like I don’t know my own child! I feel like a spare part in the family.”

  And then I couldn’t stop crying. I heard a knock on my bedroom door and my mum looked in.

  I grabbed some tissues from the box on the bedside table. “I’m on the phone to Joe,” I said.

  She gave a quick sympathetic nod and quietly closed the door. And then I realized that she thought I was talking to him about the night of the party and that made me cry even harder, that I couldn’t talk to him about that. Not now. That would have to be done face-to-face.

  “Just a second, I need to go to the bathroom,” I said to Joe.

  “I’ll wait.”

  In the bathroom I tried to calm down. I rinsed a flannel in cold water and pressed it against my burning eyes. I was glad I’d told him. He needed to be told.

  Back in my room, Joe said, “Gem, we need to talk about this. Talk about it properly. I knew you were tired.
I’m really sorry. I hadn’t thought about it.” He was quiet, and then said, “You must hate me.”

  “Of course I don’t. I love you. I’ve always loved you.” I lay down and it was as though he were next to me. “Right from the moment I saw you. You saved me.”

  “I love you, too.” I could almost hear his mind racing. I knew he’d be going over what I’d said. I should have said it before. “And I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I should have noticed you weren’t happy. We’ll sort something out.”

  I felt then that we would, but of course there was a whole other story that he knew nothing about. That I’d have to admit to. I couldn’t do it that night. I just couldn’t. I knew the time was coming when I’d tell him everything. I just hoped he’d be able to forgive me.

  SIXTY-TWO

  GEMMA

  Friday, August 18

  I WOKE LATE the next morning and found Rory and my dad having breakfast in the garden.

  “This is my second breakfast!” said Rory. “I had one with Granny when she got up, then one with Grandad when he got up.”

  He came over to me and sat on my lap, leaning back until his body was aligned with mine. He stroked my arm with his hand while he told my mum and dad in great detail what he had planned for the day, and then he wriggled round until he was facing me and whispered in my ear, “Are you coming with us, Mum?”

  I whispered back, “Do you want me to?”

  He nodded vigorously.

  “Of course I will.”

  As we got ready for the day ahead, packing up a picnic and spare clothes for Rory, I thought of Rachel in her apartment with David last night. Had she challenged him? Was she safe? Despite everything, I wanted to contact her but I didn’t know whether David would be with her. I couldn’t risk that, for her or for me.

  And while we sat in the car and sang songs with Rory, and as we walked on the beach and built a sandcastle with him and raced down to the waves and ate ice cream and chased the gulls, I thought of her again. She’d married David thinking she’d have a new family, but yet again, she was alone. I didn’t know whether she had any cousins or other relatives who could help her get through this, but it seemed as though her role as caregiver to her mum had meant she was pretty isolated.

  When my parents offered to take Rory for a long walk along the beach, I agreed quickly. I sat on the sand and thought about what had happened. If David was the one who’d raped me that night, then Alex had died because of him. But he’d died because of me, too.

  Why had I thought it was Alex? But try as I might, when I thought of that figure as he hurried from the room that night, I could see why I’d thought it was him. He was the same height, a similar build. It was the T-shirt, though, that had convinced me.

  The Glastonbury festival had been on after our exams had ended. I’d known he was going. I don’t even know who had told me, but it was probably Lauren.

  And then on the day of the party we’d had our exam results in the morning and he was wearing that T-shirt then. I’d stood behind him in the queue to get our results and I’d heard him talking about it, about The Coral, and how brilliant they were. For those ten minutes or so I was in that queue, I was standing just inches from his back and I knew the image well by the time I saw it on the back of the man leaving Alex’s bedroom.

  I didn’t see David at the party. I certainly would have noticed someone wearing the same T-shirt. The photos that Jack had taken were pretty thorough. I couldn’t think of anyone he’d missed out. And David was only in one of them, one that was taken just before I went upstairs. I’d looked through them again and again, and he wasn’t there.

  Rachel had told me about the list that Alex had written: a list of those at the party. He hadn’t written David’s name down. He mustn’t have seen him there.

  And Jack knew him and hadn’t noticed he was there. I wondered then whether that had been deliberate on David’s part. I remembered what the therapist I’d seen when I was living in London had said about rape, about how it wasn’t caused by the desire for sex but for domination. Control. It was driven by anger, she’d said. Anger and hatred. It had confused me so much. I could never link those emotions to the Alex I’d known in school.

  My phone beeped, startling me. It was a text from Rachel.

  I’m so sorry I did those things to you.

  SIXTY-THREE

  GEMMA

  AS SOON AS I saw Rachel’s message, my anger toward her vanished. We both needed to focus on the person who’d done this to us, not each other. I was about to call the office to see whether she was there, when she called me.

  “Rachel,” I said quickly, “I’m sorry, too.”

  “It’s not your fault,” she said. “Neither of us is to blame.”

  “I know,” I said. “But are you all right? What about last night?”

  “It was okay,” she said. “Nothing happened. We just watched a couple of films and went to bed early. He had to be in Newcastle today for a meeting, so he set off at about five this morning.”

  “Where does he work?”

  “Andrews and Fitch,” she said. “They’re in Warrington, a big engineering company.”

  “He’s in sales there?”

  “No, he works in their legal department.”

  So everything he’d told me was a lie. Of course it was. And then I thought about it. “He studied law at university?”

  “Yes,” she said. “At Bristol. Why?”

  She started to say something else, but I interrupted her. “Did he apply to Oxford?”

  She stopped in her tracks. “Yes, he did. He didn’t get in, though. He missed out on an A grade in one subject.” She paused. “Why? Why does it matter where he went to university?”

  I shrugged. “He told me he’d studied in London. Maths.” She was quiet and I guessed she already knew he’d told me that. I shook my head. I had to get over her involvement in this. So he lied about studying in London. He must have been trying to give us something in common. “He must have been angry that Alex got into Oxford and he didn’t.”

  “I’ve never thought of that,” she said slowly. “He would have been angry with himself, too. He sets really high standards for himself. Actually I don’t think he would have been able to keep up the friendship with Alex long-term. It would always be a reminder of his own failure.”

  I thought of David turning up at the party, furious and jealous. There must have been six or seven students from my year group that had got into Oxford, and I wondered how he’d felt as he hovered on the edge of groups that were excited about a future he was denied. I wondered whether that was what led him upstairs to me, the desire to punish. To take revenge.

  How had he felt when Alex was arrested? Was that when David really started to celebrate his own success?

  “I know I said I wanted to confront him,” said Rachel, “but I’m terrified.”

  “So am I.” Just the thought of being in the same room as him made my heart pound. “I can’t do it. I’m too frightened of him.”

  In the distance I saw my parents walking with Rory. Each of them was holding one of his hands and he was swinging between them. When he saw me looking at him, Rory started to run toward me. I felt awful for Rachel but I really couldn’t talk to her. All I had time to say was, “Sorry, I have to go. Call me later,” before he bounded on top of me, pinning me to the ground with hugs and kisses. I wrapped my arms around him and breathed in the summer smells of suntan lotion and ice cream, but my pulse was still racing at the thought of what we had to do.

  * * *

  * * *

  RACHEL CALLED AGAIN later that day. We were all out in the garden when my phone rang.

  “Is that Joe?” asked my mum. I could tell from her face that she was worried about my marriage, that it would all end in tears.

  “It’s work.”

  “You’re meant to be
having a break from work!”

  I could hear my dad hushing her as I took the phone upstairs to my bedroom.

  “I think we’re right not to confront him ourselves,” she said as soon as I was able to talk. “Shall we go to the police in the morning, while he’s away? I’m not expecting him back until tomorrow evening.”

  “Yes. Let’s do it.” I felt a huge sense of relief that this would soon be over. “I’ll drive down early. I can be at the police station near the office at eight o’clock.”

  “I’ll be there,” she said. “I’m going up to my mum’s house after work tonight. There are some things I don’t want David to get hold of. Papers, financial stuff. Will you be able to keep them for me, until it’s all over?”

  “Yes, of course. You can keep them in the safe at work if you like.”

  She hesitated. “Gemma, you wouldn’t come with me, would you?”

  “What, to your mum’s house?”

  “Just for a few minutes.” Her voice was strained. “I don’t want to be there on my own.”

  “No!” I said, horrified at the thought of being back in that house. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I can’t do that.”

  “It’s okay.” She sounded resigned. “I didn’t think you would.”

  “Why do you need to go there now and not after you’ve told the police?”

  “I need to make sure everything’s safe,” she said. “Just in case I need to get away quickly.”

  “How come you didn’t take all your mum’s documents to your apartment when you moved in?”

  “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I think I knew early on that I shouldn’t let him know about all my mum’s finances. She had a lot more money than I realized, and once we were married there was something about the way he thought he was entitled to it that I didn’t like. I didn’t tell him about the stocks and shares she had, though he asked several times whether she had any. If I don’t get them now and he has the chance, he’ll be all over that house.” Her voice broke. “I just don’t want to go in there on my own.”