Powerless

by Catherine Johnson

  I expected Donna to answer me, go all Oprah, but it’s Michael who’s got the good intel. “Somethin’s not right there. They were very definitely together at the last full moon. It looked like they couldn’t even stand each other last night. There seemed to be something up when I told her you were getting out. She seemed to think that he knew about you coming into the pack a lot sooner than he said he did. I don’t think she was wrong either. He’s always been tight with Daniel. Whatever started that night between them, it’s gotten worse.”

  I can see that Donna is concerned for her friend, and she’s no’ happy that she’s no’ heard about this little tidbit before; but somehow I’m the one in the firing line. “Hey Callum, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure lass.”

  “Why did you move Becca’s clothes out of the spare room?”

  “Those were Becca’s? I didnae know.” Oh they were, were they?

  Michael seems to think this is funny. “Her and Rob used to stay over sometimes when we having a night in with a few drinks, so she has some spares here. How come you put them out?”

  “I couldnae sleep with ‘em in there.” I cannae think o’ any better answer than that, but Donna and Michael seem tae think there’s somethin’ amusin’ about it anyway, the way they’re grinnin’ at each other like fools.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” Donna shrugs but her tone is bright, too innocent, and she’s smilin’ like she’s on drugs. Michael’s just shakin’ his head. If they want tae play games I’m no’ in the mood for joinin’ in today.

  “Is it no’ time for you tae be gettin’ off tae school tae pick up those wee bairns o’ yours?”

  Donna looks at the clock and gets a bit o’ a fright. “Oh God yeah! I should’ve set off ten minutes ago.” She hands her mug tae Michael as she gets up. “It’s the boys’ birthday party next week. I’ll remind her about it. She’s their Godmother so I don’t think she’ll miss it. It’ll be a nice opportunity for you two to chat.”

  Michael just stares wistfully at the door after his wife leaves and mutters. “Yep, ruthless.”

  Chapter Eight

  Work has become my refuge. It’s the only thing that doesn’t seem to have changed lately. Everyone here is just the same as they ever were; the work carries on in a monotonous drone. People are still buying and selling property. The legal framework remains the same. The world still turns.

  As with any office, there are plenty of gossips here who would love to know the juicy details of my life so that they could tear them apart, but I’ve never indulged them. There are so many details that I can’t tell people, that it’s always been easier to tell them nothing at all. It’s left me with a reputation for arrogance amongst my bitchier colleagues, but I can live with that. They’ve almost had coronaries with excitement whenever Rob has met me for lunch, and I know that our relationship is their current topic of discussion.

  In the past, I’ve made an effort to be friendly, even though I don’t like to discuss my private life. I’ve joined in with the Friday night after-work bar-hopping; I’ve dressed up for Charity drives and made an idiot of myself singing karaoke at the Christmas do. Lately, it’s all I can do to muster up the will to say “Hello”, even to the colleagues that I like, let alone to give my usual polite smile to the ones that I don’t. I can see them looking at me when I pass them in the corridor, I can hear them whispering their theories around the water cooler. They’re so far off the mark it isn’t even funny.

  It’s almost lunchtime. I gave up eating in the staff room a few weeks ago. It’s too much like being in a goldfish bowl. Everyone stares at you, whilst trying to pretend that they’re doing anything but. I grab my handbag and head out to somewhere, anywhere with quick service, to grab a coffee. Food hasn’t been that high on my agenda recently and that’s been making me more short-tempered than usual.

  I’m absorbed in my own thoughts so I don’t see her sat in the reception until she stands. Our receptionist helpfully explains that the lady said that I was expecting her. I wasn’t, but I’m not about to add to the gossip fodder, so I nod blindly and follow Donna as she turns for the door.

  “This is a low trick Donna.”

  “I need to speak to you Becca, I need to explain. You won’t answer your phone. You wouldn’t call me. You didn’t leave me much choice.”

  “You could have left me alone. I don’t need an explanation.”

  “No I couldn’t and yes you do. Were you going somewhere in particular?”

  “I was thinking of the Costa down the street.”

  “Sounds good, come on. I’m sure you don’t have all day.”

  She doesn’t even have the grace to be embarrassed about tricking me, let alone about anything else. The way that Donna is acting, you would think the last few weeks had never happened. We make it to the coffee shop just before the lunchtime rush really gets going, so we’re served relatively quickly and we’re able to find seats with a table in a private corner. Donna frowns when she realises I have no intention of eating, but for once doesn’t lecture me about it. Being Donna, she doesn’t beat around the bush, at all.

  “It wasn’t Callum that attacked you, Becca.”

  I’m struck dumb. I’m not sure what I was expecting her to say, but that definitely wasn’t it. At least I hadn’t tried to start drinking my coffee yet, I’d probably have dropped it.

  “But you told me...”

  “We told you he was Alpha of the pack. We never told you that he did it.”

  “You’re really splitting hairs here Donna. He turned himself in. You never said he didn’t do it. Why didn’t you say something years ago?”

  “We couldn’t. It needed to be that way. Callum wanted it to happen that way. He asked us to go along with it and we did.”

  “And why should I believe you? You’re obviously still friends with him. Why should I believe you now? You could be lying.”

  “Becca please, don’t insult me, or yourself. You should be able to tell if I’m lying, or you would be able to if you weren’t wrapped up tighter than a penis at a gang-bang.”

  She’s right. I can find out if she’s telling the truth quite easily. I relax a little and let my senses really hear and see what’s going on around me. I allow myself to be able to pick out individual conversations in the general murmur of the crowd around me. I can feel the ebb and flow of the crowd as it changes, new arrivals, some staying, some leaving. I allow myself to really smell what’s going on, the coffees and teas being brewed and served, the hot sandwiches that smell more strongly than the refrigerated ones, the perfumes and aftershaves. I can tell who had a shower this morning and who didn’t bother.

  “Go on, say it again.”

  “Callum Lennox was not the man who attacked you.”

  There’s no denying it. Donna is a strong wolf, but I would still be able to tell if she was lying to me. What she’s telling me is the truth, as far as she knows. There is conviction in her answer. If the world is going to keep tilting like this, I should see about getting some pills for seasickness. The constant movement is making me nauseous.

  “Okay, I believe that you believe it wasn’t Callum. How do you know it wasn’t?” I don’t give her time to answer because I’ve just realised the depths of my own stupidity. “You know it wasn’t him because you know who it really was.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes? Just yes? You aren’t going to tell me?”

  “We will tell you Becca, you need to know. But this is neither the time or the place.”

  “Really? But it’s the perfect place to tell me that the man I thought was my attacker for almost six years wasn’t, but he took the blame for it anyway for some strange reason. It’s the perfect place to tell me that two people who I thought were my friends, who I’ve trusted beyond anything, have been lying to me the entire time I’ve known them?”

  “We had to, Becca, it was for the good of the pack, or we thought it was. It was supposed to be for the good of the pack.” />
  “You did it for the pack?”

  “Think about it, Becca. You didn’t turn into a werewolf because you were sprinkled with pixie dust.”

  Donna’s sarcasm knows no bounds, but at least she knows when to be discreet. She whispered that last part so low, that if I hadn’t been concentrating on her, I would have missed it. I’m still gripping my coffee, but it’s cold now. Even the feel of a caffeine hit can’t persuade me to try and drink it; I think I’d just bring it straight back up.

  “So you’re telling me that it was one of the pack that attacked me, but you won’t tell me who? Brilliant. Thank you very much. And I’m supposed to do what now? Trot around at every full moon like I don’t give a shit?”

  “No, of course not. I told you, I will tell you, but not here, not now. Becca, the only way I could get you to speak to me was to ambush you. I don’t want to drop that on you now. For one, we’re in a very public place. Two, you need to go back to work soon. Come to ours on Friday after work. We’re having the boys’ birthday party straight after school. Meet Callum, speak to him. He was a good Alpha, Becca; one of the best I’ve known. We’ll tell you everything once the party’s over and done with.”

  Shit, I’d forgotten about the party. It looks like I’ll be spending tomorrow’s lunchtime shopping for presents. The thought of letting my crumbling life distract me from two very innocent little lives depresses me and makes me feel incredibly guilty. I don’t see what else I can do. It’s become obvious to me that my life is undergoing a seismic shift that it won’t recover from. I’m not going to get back the life I had before, any of it. I have an appointment tonight after work to view a flat. I haven’t spoken to Rob about me moving out, but I doubt it’s going to come as much of a surprise. It looks like I should just lie back and let the waves take me. I’m tired of swimming against the tide. And I miss Donna and Michael, I miss my friends.

  “Okay, I’ll be there. I have to get back now, I have to leave.” I need to get away, I feel broken inside.

  “Great. See you then.”

  “Yeah, see you.”

  I leave my cold coffee on the table and manage to get out of the building without bouncing off any of the other people blindly continuing with their lives. Fortunately I have a lot of filing to do this afternoon. It’s wonderfully mindless work. If I had to type anything I would probably end up typing a gobbledygook of the random thoughts spinning around in my brain, so filing is good.

  Rob told me this morning that he was working late again tonight. He hasn’t mentioned anything about the disappearance of the multitude of holiday brochures that had been littering the house. I can leave on time, do the viewing, get home and eat, or not as the case may be, and be in bed before he gets in. We’re not doing a lot of speaking anyway at the moment, but I’m not in the mood even for politely idle chat tonight. Hopefully the flat will be reasonable for the rent they’re asking. If it is, I’ll be able to do most of the paperwork for it tomorrow. I suppose it’s one of the advantages of not having many friends my own age anymore. I spend very little money going out, and Rob and I have been living together and sharing bills for a few years now. It’s allowed me to save up. I should be able to offer enough rent in advance to persuade them to let me move in before all the checks they’ll want to do are complete.

  It’s minutes to five o’clock and I’m just logging off from my PC when my mobile rings. It’s Rob’s number on screen. I hope that he hasn’t decided to finish early, I don’t want to begin the conversation about me moving out whilst I’m stood in the office, or before I’m sure I’ve found somewhere else to live.

  “Hiya.”

  “Rebecca?” It’s not Rob speaking. Dumbly I look at the display to double check that it’s Rob’s number like I thought it was. It is. The voice belongs to a woman, a woman I know.

  “Yes. Hello Claire.”

  “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m calling from Rob’s phone.”

  “Yes I am. Is everything okay?”

  “Becca, Rob isn’t working late this evening.”

  The jigsaw comes together in my mind. There has been no big account this time. He hasn’t been working late for the past month. There is more than one secret he’s been keeping from me.

  My voice is icy. “How long?”

  “Around two months now. Becca, I just thought you should know.”

  “How very civil of you.” I hang up. I don’t need to hear any more. The only reason I am not screaming down the phone and swearing a blue streak is that there are still people milling around the office. I will not give them the satisfaction of seeing me go into meltdown. I’m not altogether sure I can keep it all together for the journey home, but I won’t break down here. I leave quickly and head towards the station.

  Claire Wells is a member of the pack. She works at Rob’s firm, but in a different department. She’s younger than I am, and she’s only been a wolf for about two years. She comes from Leeds originally, but transferred to the offices here for a promotion about a year ago. Up until now, I had thought she was a nice girl, funny, friendly; shows how much I know. It shows how little attention I’ve been paying. The timing of her little guilt flush is appalling, or incredible, depending on which way you look at it. If my life is going to go to hell, it might as well do it in a Ferrari.

  I’ve been under the impression that mine and Rob’s relationship has fallen apart because he’s been keeping secrets from me about Daniel. I’m still certain that he is, but there is also something else entirely between us, something worse. Pack politics is one thing, but this is... this is bigger. It’s not just about Claire. Obviously I’ve been at fault here too. How have I not noticed what’s been going on? How have I not smelt her on him? How have I not sensed their connection when we’ve been running as a pack? I know I’ve shut everyone out recently, but how have I been so self-absorbed that I’ve missed all the signs? I hate the way that that thought makes me feel. It makes me feel selfish and stupid. Perversely, it makes me feel like the cold-hearted bitch in the scenario.

  I stare blankly into space at the station and on the train. I shut down any emotion before it spills over into tears. I make it through the viewing on auto-pilot. I’m sure I haven’t checked everything as thoroughly as I would under normal circumstances, but the flat will do. It will have to. I can’t stay in that house a moment longer than I absolutely have to. I make the arrangements to transfer the money online to the agent tonight. They’ll be able to verify it in the morning and I should be able to pick up the keys tomorrow evening.

  The first thing I do when I get home, when I get back to the house, is make the transfer. The thought of food holds no appeal to me, so I change clothes and start to pack. I’m stuffing clothes into bin bags when Rob gets home. I hear him come upstairs, and carry on regardless.

  “Becca? Becca what are you doing?”

  I don’t look up. “I’m packing. I’m leaving Rob. I’ve rented a flat on the other side of the village. I’ll have the keys tomorrow.”

  “What?! Where has this come from? You can’t just leave without talking to me about it. You can’t just walk out!”

  “Rob, we both know you’ve been keeping secrets from me for a while.” I’m still transferring clothes from the wardrobe into bags. I must remember to keep an outfit to one side for work tomorrow.

  “Becca, I thought we’d dropped that.”

  “Check the last number called on your phone and the time.” When I glance over he’s staring at his phone with his brows drawn.

  “But I didn’t...”

  “I know you didn’t. Claire did.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yes. Exactly. Oh.” I straighten up and really look at him. He doesn’t even look upset. His complete lack of guilt completely derails any urge I have to scream and swear at him. It looks as though I’d just be wasting my breath.

  “For someone reason she decided that today was the day I should know about what’s been going on between the two of you.”

 
; “Okay, I’ll leave you to it then.”

  I have to ask. “That’s all. After four years, that’s it?”

  When he turns there’s an ugly look on his face. “Yes, that’s it. Do you even know? Have you any idea what it’s like to live in your shadow? I get it Becca, you’re a stronger wolf than I am. I am sick of having my face rubbed in it. You can read the pack better than I can. You deliberately resist the pull of the Alpha, and you outrun me without giving a shit about what that looks like to our friends, to the rest of the pack. You have absolutely no consideration for how it feels to be me, to be your male, to be the man in your life who can’t keep up with you.”

  Given that I’m feeling obnoxiously stupid at the moment and about as aware as a wolf that’s recently visited a taxidermist, I’m blindsided by his reasoning. I know that I’m a stronger wolf than he is, but I’ve never rubbed his face in it; or at least not that I was aware of. Obviously he’s seen things differently. I can’t help who I am, and I really hadn’t thought that it mattered that my abilities as a Were outmatched his.