The Girl I Used to Be

by Mary Torjussen

  I jumped.

  He smiled at me. “Not quite what you were expecting?”

  I couldn’t say a word. It was like being in a room with an animal, one you can’t take your eyes off. One that you’re terrified of.

  “So, who thought we’d meet up again here?” he said. “This is where it all started between us, isn’t it?”

  I froze.

  “Remember that bed?” he asked, his voice soft, almost a caress. “How much do you remember? I’d love to know that. When did you become aware of me, Gemma? What woke you? Do you remember the first touch? I’ve always wondered.” His tongue flicked out to wet his lips. “I liked to think of that, afterward.”

  Acid rose at the back of my throat. I tried to make myself not listen, to plan instead what I should do. I could feel Alex’s hockey stick behind me and I tried desperately to gather strength from it.

  “You were always my special one,” he said. His eyes were bright and I saw beads of spittle foaming at the corners of his mouth. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. “You were the first, you see.” For a moment he looked proud. “I did pretty well, didn’t I? It took you fifteen years to figure out it was me. In a way I would have liked more of a challenge, but you know, if you’d been a bit brighter I wouldn’t have had the chance to do the others. And not all of them were quite as acquiescent as you, Gemma. I wouldn’t have missed out on that for anything. So in a way I should thank you.” His eyes glittered. “You gave me the idea, the opportunity. You gave me everything.” He smiled at me. “You made me what I am.”

  I shuddered. His eyes were fixed on me, and while my mind raced as it thought of escape routes, I knew I had to distract him.

  “America didn’t work out for you, then?” I said.

  “Let’s just say my time was up there,” he said, and smiled at me.

  I knew that Rachel had been right about the other women. My body shook at the thought of what he’d done, and I had to gather all my strength to talk to him when what I wanted was to run as fast as I could.

  “Funny you turned up at the funeral,” I said. “Paying your respects, were you?”

  He shrugged. “Well, yeah, in one way you could say that. She was always good to me.”

  And look how he’d repaid her.

  “Then you fell in love with Rachel. Bit convenient, wasn’t it?”

  He laughed. “She called it serendipity. To be honest, I’d forgotten all about her until I saw her standing there, crying by the coffin. It’s amazing how a bit of money can make someone so much more attractive.”

  “So when she said she wanted to get revenge,” I said, conversationally, “you just thought you’d go along with it? Bit of excitement for you, was it?” Out of the corner of my eye I saw something move behind him. Rachel’s hand lifted, just an inch. My stomach tightened. I had to keep his attention away from her. “Or was it your idea all along?”

  “Nah,” he said. “That was her idea.” He laughed again. “One of her better ones. And of course I didn’t exactly object. It was fun getting to know you better the second time around.”

  Anger burned inside my stomach. “Shame you had to drug me to do that.”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes I like to take the easy way out. I couldn’t risk you turning me down at the last minute, could I? Well, I could . . .” He smiled at me and I knew that he would have loved that challenge. “But Rachel was waiting for me back at our hotel. So I thought I’d wait. I didn’t give you that much, anyway.” His eyes gleamed. “I saved the rest for her.”

  I tried so hard not to express disgust at this. “What, so that you could take photos of her without her knowing? Just as you did with me?”

  “Well, I do like my souvenirs.”

  I know it was stupid, but I had to ask. “What have you done with those photos?”

  He grinned. He knew this was my weak spot, the thing I’d worry about for years. “You’ll never know, sweetheart.” He glanced over at Rachel. “And neither will she.” He moved a step closer. I stepped back and the hockey stick rubbed against me. I couldn’t swing it from that angle, I knew, and I didn’t want the stick to fall to the ground. I knew he hadn’t noticed it was there. I needed him to move away. My mind was working frantically, and then he added, “Speaking of which, that photo from the night we met . . .”

  I frowned, unable to understand for a minute. “What, in London?”

  “No.” He laughed. “The night of the party.”

  “We didn’t meet! You raped me when I was asleep.”

  He shrugged. “Same difference. Where’s that photo? I’d like to see it.”

  “Jack Howard has it,” I said.

  “Who?”

  “One of Alex’s friends.”

  “So how did you see it?”

  “He showed it to me.”

  “And you showed Rachel?”

  I hesitated.

  “One of you has a copy of it. I want to see it. Come on, Gemma. I just want to see it.” He winked at me. “Add it to my collection. Where is it?”

  “My phone’s in my handbag,” I lied. “Downstairs in the kitchen. It’s on an e-mail to Rachel.” I needed to get him out of the room, to call the police.

  I could see him trying to work out what to do. He couldn’t let me go downstairs alone. He looked at Rachel. She was still on the floor, her eyes shut. Purple bruises were blooming on the side of her face.

  He glanced around the room. There was a wooden chair next to Alex’s desk, over by the window. “Sit over there,” he said.

  I tried to buy some time. “What?”

  He grabbed my arm and pushed me over to the chair. There were files on the chair and I recognized them from school. It was the work Alex had done there; the work that had got him into Oxford. David tipped the chair and the files scattered across the floor. He kicked a couple out of the way, then pushed me down onto the chair. He opened the wardrobe and inside the door were Alex’s school ties. With such ease I knew he’d done this before, he grabbed one and tied me to the chair. I could see Rachel on the floor; his back was to her as he wrenched my arms behind my back. I saw her eyelids flicker, just once. I had to alert her and I had to cover up any noise she’d make.

  So I started to yell. It took him by surprise, I could tell. He slapped my face hard, so that my head whipped to one side, but I carried on screaming. He reached over to the wardrobe for another tie and stood in front of me, trying to tie it around my mouth. I was wriggling and shrieking and in all the commotion he just didn’t hear her.

  But I did.

  SEVENTY-ONE

  RACHEL

  I’D NEVER THOUGHT for a minute that Gemma could yell like that. She was really going for it, screaming and shouting and swearing. It was the best thing she could have done.

  David was frantic, trying to tie her up and shut her up at the same time. He was used to more passive victims. He was used to me.

  He’d never seen me as a threat, more of an opportunity. He’d walked into that chapel at the crematorium last year and he’d winked at me—who winks at a bereaved daughter at a funeral? And when I winked back, he knew I’d be putty in his hands.

  Well, you know what they say: Pride comes before a fall.

  There was no need for me to be quiet because Gemma was making enough noise to cover me, but still I slid my feet up slowly and waited a second. He hit her again—a punch in the jaw that time, and I knew she’d be as bruised as me soon. She screamed as though she were being murdered and I felt a surge of admiration for her.

  And then I knew I was going to do this for her, as well as for Alex.

  Within a second I was standing. David didn’t notice a thing, but I knew Gemma had. She’d leaned forward and grabbed his hair in her mouth and was pulling it so hard he couldn’t turn to look in my direction. Now he was shouting, too, calling her names that made me feel sick.
In two steps I reached the door and grabbed Alex’s hockey stick with both hands. I’d sat with him before he went to Oxford and we’d wound new binding tape around the end so that he could grip it better, and written his initials, A.C., on the tape. He hadn’t played hockey at Oxford; the tape was pristine.

  Now with both hands on the stick, I stood behind David. Gemma looked up at me and I mouthed, Let go.

  She gave one more vicious tug that made him scream, then spat his hair onto the floor.

  I said, “David?” in the sweetest voice I could muster.

  In the split second between him hearing me and turning around, he let go of Gemma and I brought the stick down on his head, as hard as I could.

  He fell to the ground, stunned. I hit him again and again and in the silence between blows I heard the sound of a bone cracking.

  Gemma shouted, “Rachel!”

  I turned, thinking she was telling me to stop, but she said, “Quick, untie me!”

  I twisted her chair away from David. “You watch him,” I whispered, and she turned to look at him while I struggled with the knots. I gave up and pulled open the drawer to Alex’s desk and grabbed the scissors that had always been there. I cut the ties and put the scissors in my back pocket in case I needed them, later. Gemma stood, rubbing her legs.

  Then David stirred.

  She and I stood frozen to the spot as we watched him kneel, preparing to stand. He turned to look at us and I panicked.

  Gemma didn’t panic, though. She picked up that hockey stick and she raised it high in the air. With a grim look on her face, she brought it crashing down on David’s back.

  He swore and fell back, landing heavily on his shoulder. I held my breath, but he started to push himself up again.

  Gemma was panting and her knuckles were white where she gripped the stick. She looked terrified. I was, too, but more than that I was exhilarated.

  “Here,” I said. I stood behind her and put my arms around her, her back to my chest. I could feel Gemma’s body shaking, and mine was, too. I grabbed hold of the stick so we were both holding it. Alex had stood like this with me, when he was teaching me to play hockey in our garden the summer before he died.

  David was about to rise when I felt Gemma lift her arms. I pressed against her, my body touching hers, my hands right next to hers on Alex’s hockey stick, and it was as though Alex were with us too, as though he were behind me, guiding me. Protecting me. As though the three of us were one.

  David’s eyes flicked from me to her and back again. I don’t think he could believe we were sticking up for ourselves.

  “This one’s for you, babe,” I said to him.

  We lifted our arms higher still and Gemma shouted, “It’s from all of us, you bastard.”

  And then with our bodies together, united, we brought Alex’s hockey stick down with full force on David’s head.

  This time he lay still.

  SEVENTY-TWO

  GEMMA

  Saturday, August 19

  JOE WAS WAITING for me in the reception area of the police station when I was finally allowed to leave. It was after two A.M. by then. He looked as exhausted as I felt, and he held me to him for so long that I thought I’d go to sleep in his arms.

  “Where’s Rachel?” he asked. “Is she coming with us?”

  “They’ve taken her to hospital,” I said. “They want her to stay in overnight, because she lost consciousness.”

  He winced. “And are you all right, sweetheart?” He put his arms around me again and held me to him. “I’ve been so worried.”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Let’s just get out of here.” Poor Joe, he’d been sitting there for hours waiting for me, not knowing what was going on. The police had told him I was being questioned about an incident that had occurred in Rachel’s house; that was all he knew up till then. “It was to do with Rachel’s husband. Long, long story.”

  He raised his eyebrows at that, because of course he hadn’t known she was married. I hadn’t known myself until recently, of course. It was good now to have him sitting beside me, one hand on my leg as he drove. I said I’d tell him everything when we got back to my parents’ house, and though I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep, I knew he wasn’t fooled.

  “My mum’s going to be worried,” I said as Joe parked the car.

  “I called her. I told her I was with you and we’d be back late.”

  “You didn’t tell her anything?”

  “I didn’t know anything,” he said. “I said we’d talk to them in the morning.”

  I could only imagine the self-restraint my mother had had to show then. My dad must have had his work cut out calming her down, but as we entered the house all was quiet from their bedroom.

  As soon as we were in the living room, Joe opened his mouth to speak, but I said, “I need to shower,” and ran upstairs to the bathroom and closed the door.

  I kept my eyes shut while I showered. All I could think of was David saying, You made me what I am. I scoured my skin, and the heat of the shower and the tears on my face and that scrubbing motion reminded me of the shower I’d taken after the party where I’d tried to wash away my shame.

  Fifteen years later, it had finally ended.

  Back downstairs in my dressing gown, I sat in the living room while Joe made a pot of tea and some toast. Although I hadn’t thought I could eat a thing, I found I was ravenous and sat at the kitchen table while he toasted more bread. He sat quietly with me while I ate; I knew he was bursting with questions but he didn’t say a word.

  When I’d finished eating, he tidied away the plates and mugs, and we sat on the sofa, his arms around me, a blanket covering us.

  “I want you to tell me everything,” he said. “Don’t miss anything out. Don’t try to spare my feelings, or think you’re doing me a favor by leaving anything out.” He stroked my face and kissed me. “I love you, Gemma. I’ll love you no matter what you say. But please don’t lie to me.”

  And so I told him.

  * * *

  * * *

  IT WAS AN hour before I finished. He kept quiet throughout, though he did prompt me occasionally.

  “And then we ran out of the room and Rachel remembered there was a key to the bedroom. They hadn’t used it since Alex died; it was by the front door on a hook. I held the door shut and she ran downstairs to find it. Once she’d locked him in, I called the police and we waited outside, in the driveway. They were there within minutes.”

  Joe’s face was pale and drawn by the time I’d finished. “The same man,” he said at last. “I’ve hated him for so long, Gem. You know that. When I think of what he did to you all those years ago, I want to kill him. But now. The things he’s done since.” He put his arms around me and buried his head in my neck. “You must have been terrified.”

  “You wouldn’t believe it. When Rachel was downstairs and I was holding the door shut . . . It was an old door handle and if he’d been fit he would have been able to get out of there easily.” I shuddered. “I knew he wouldn’t be able to get up. I knew we had a few minutes, at least. But that thought, that he’d pull open the door . . . I was so frightened.”

  “I wish you’d told me you were going there. I wish I could have helped you.”

  “But we weren’t expecting him to turn up,” I said. “I was just going to be with her to pick up some documents. She didn’t want him to find them.”

  “Even so,” he said. “I hate to think of you going through that.” We were quiet for a while, then he said, “So what’s happened to him now?”

  “I’m not sure. Apparently he was coming to just as the police arrived. They carted him off to hospital and he’s under guard now.” I winced. “We hit him pretty hard.”

  Joe shrugged. “Shame. But when the police got there and found him unconscious and locked in a room, did they just believe what
you said? You both clearly had something to do with it.”

  “We were taken to the police station.” We’d been glad to go. We asked to go. At least we were safe there. “And I gave them my shirt.”

  “What? Why did you do that?”

  “That night at the hotel in London, David was recording me while we had a meal. He’d planned it all, known what he wanted to do.”

  “Recorded you with his phone? Didn’t you notice?”

  “No, he had a video camera that was in a button that Rachel sewed onto his shirt,” I said.

  “A button?”

  “I know. I couldn’t believe it. Rachel told me about it; she sent me a link to it just the other day. I thought that two could play at that game, so I sent off for a shirt with buttons and I ordered the same recorder he’d bought, and I sewed the buttons on before I went out. Everything that happened in her house last night was recorded.”

  He looked at me as if I’d grown another head. “Sound as well?”

  I nodded. “It was clear as a bell. You could hear that we broke a bone when we hit him.” I swallowed hard, remembering also the clarity of the video he’d made of me criticizing Joe. That was the only thing I hadn’t told him. I hoped he’d never hear about it.

  He winced. “But why were you wearing the shirt? You thought you were just going to help Rachel, didn’t you?”

  “I was testing it,” I said. “I knew that Rachel would have seen the buttons before, on David’s shirt; she’d sewn them on. I wanted to see if she noticed them. If she didn’t, I figured he wouldn’t, either. Before I had a chance to tell her, he’d turned up. The police wouldn’t touch the button as it was evidence, but I gave them the login to the website where the footage was stored and they could see everything.”

  He sat quietly, holding me to him. I knew it was going to take a long time for him to grasp just what had been happening over the last couple of months. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t go to the police straightaway, as soon as you saw him going into Rachel’s apartment.”