by D A Latham
Bill just did the McCarthy family smirk. He really was just an older version of Andy, with the same mannerisms, which I found fascinating. The tape was still recording, so we stayed quiet. I took in the bare, featureless room, with its nailed-down, utilitarian furniture and oppressive decor, designed to be as bland and featureless as possible, offering no pleasant distractions to people accused of being the criminals of society.
When the policemen returned, they'd been joined by another, uniformed copper who proceeded to take my fingerprints and a swab of my DNA. He handed Bill a sheaf of forms to fill in to apply for my bail. It was all a bit of a blur. I struggled to take in the things they were telling me, focusing only on the part where I'd be appearing in front of a magistrate in a week or so time.
"That's it," said the duty Sergeant, after swabbing my mouth. "You're OK to go.”
CHAPTER 15
We got a taxi over to Andy's house, which Bill had named as my bail address. Despite my horrible predicament, excitement rose in my belly at the prospect of seeing where he lived and getting a true insight into the man I'd fallen in love with.
We pulled into a turning marked Yester Park, which had large gates barring the entrance. The gates opened automatically, making me wonder why anyone would bother having them. We drove slowly down a road lined with large detached houses, each different, but all nicely kept. We were in affluent Chislehurst, the money plainly on show.
"Keep going till you get to the end," Bill said to the cab driver. At the end of the road was a dead end, with another large pair of gates. Bill jumped out and entered some numbers into the keypad beside them. They began to open and he jumped back into the car.
"Andy lives here on his own?" I asked, trying to take it all in.
"Yes. I told him it was too big for one person, but he insisted on it. I think he rattles around in it." We carried on up the drive. As we turned past some trees, the house revealed itself. It wasn't as huge as Lakesview, but it was possibly more beautiful. It was also more modern, with pretty cream-coloured render and a tile-hung second floor. The total effect was breathtaking.
Bill paid the cabbie and told him how to get back out of the gates. I was busy gazing up at the building, wondering why Andy had chosen to hide it from me. Bill proceeded to knock on the front door. "Monica's in there waiting for us," he said. I wondered who Monica was, but as soon as I heard yapping, figured it was Andy's mum and her dog.
A small, but elegant blonde lady opened the door, clutching a yapping Maltese terrier. "Come in, how'd it go? You must be Sally? I'm Monica, but everybody calls me Mon. Lola just did a widdle in the kitchen, bloody typical. Can't take her anywhere. Come on in out of the cold."
She was nothing like I expected at all, but I thought she was great. For some reason I'd expected her to be tall, but she couldn't have been more than five foot two. I wondered how on Earth she'd produced four big strapping men. She stepped aside to let us in.
"It went fine. Sally's on bail while they check out more forensics. I think they're going for Brookes as well as Pryce. They found a wrap of coke planted in her bag, but none in her bloodstream. It's quite damning." He led the way into the kitchen, which was a vast room separated into zones. He sat himself down on a stool at the island, while Monica filled the kettle, one handed, as she still had the dog tucked under the other arm.
"And Sally," she addressed me, "how are you holding up? This must've been a Hell of a shock."
"It's pretty scary," I admitted, "on all levels. I just hope they believe me."
"The truth always comes out eventually," she said sagely. "Andrew told me to tell you he'll be home soon. He wanted to be here when you got back, but had something come up at the office. Bill and I are under strict instructions to make sure you have someone with you all the time due to you being a witness. Goodness only knows what that man's capable of." She set out three cups and dropped a teabag in each one.
I was sipping my tea and listening to Monica's description of Lola the dog's routines, when Andy got home. His eyes crinkled into a smile when he saw me sitting in his kitchen. "How'd it go?" He asked.
"I'm out on bail," I said, "they're looking into the case a bit more closely, plus there seems to be a bit of another issue going on."
"Oh?"
"My bag was found on the back seat with a foil wrap inside it, which was probably cocaine."
"Yes, I know. I spoke to the police this afternoon. They invited Aaron in to give his witness statement. As soon as he got there they arrested him. They're raiding Lakeswood as we speak."
"They asked me if Marcus offered me cocaine."
"Doesn't surprise me. He was dealing it in sixth form, low-level though back then. The rumour is that's why he liked living in such a high-security house. He'd stopped dealing as such and moved up to supplying."
"I had no idea," I said. "I'm so bloody naive." I watched as he plopped his briefcase on the island and pulled off his tie. He really suited formal business wear. His mum made him a coffee in a very swanky built-in machine that seemed fiendishly complicated.
He sat on the stool beside me and squeezed my hand. "You're very pale. How's your head?"
"A bit tender. I've got a headache, but not a bad one," I admitted.
"Good. Now, Mum's gonna take you shopping tomorrow, to start replacing everything you lost at Lakeswood. It's probably best you don't go anywhere alone right now, given there's been one attempt on your life. Aaron's got a lot at stake, and he's a ruthless man. I don't want anything else happening to you."
I didn't want to argue, especially in front of his parents, but with only twelve hundred pounds to my name and the very real possibility of going to prison on the horizon, I didn't feel that splurging on new clothes was top of my agenda, although I had to concede I needed a few things. Monica clapped her hands together, excited at the prospect of shopping, which made the dog jump.
"Put it on your card Mum, and I'll drop the money into your account," said Andy.
"Do I have a budget or limit?" She asked, a steely glint in her eye. Andy blushed before shaking his head. Monica grinned at me. "We'll go to Bluewater; nicer shops and better places for lunch."
With a promise to pick me up at nine the following morning, they left. As soon as they were gone, Andy pulled me into his arms and pressed a featherlight kiss to my lips, almost seeking permission to kiss me properly. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and deepened the kiss, letting him know I still wanted him. Our tongues met in an erotic dance, tasting and teasing each other as we reconnected.
Eventually, he pulled away. "I'm sorry all this happened to you, it's not going to be fun having to be chaperoned everywhere, but I just can't risk anything happening to you. You're the lynchpin in three separate investigations now, the hit and run, the insider dealing fraud, and Marcus's coke dealing. They're bound to want to silence you."
"Well your mum is hardly gonna be much of a bodyguard is she?" I pointed out. He just laughed.
"Dad was a lawyer dealing with some of the worst, most powerful criminals in the UK. They got used to living with protecting themselves. Don't let the little fluffy blonde appearance fool you, she's as sharp as a tack."
I pondered his statement. "Have you had the guided tour yet?" He asked, interrupting my thoughts. I shook my head. "Come on then, I'll show you around." He held his hand out. I placed mine in it and let him lead me out of the kitchen.
The house was big, too big for a single person, or even a couple. It was more comfortable than Lakeswood in the way it was furnished: the sofas were squashier, the colours warmer. Andy told me that his Mum's friend had done it, and her work had been featured in Homes and Gardens magazine. "Why did you want such a big house?" I asked as he showed me around the bedrooms. He shrugged.
"It was a bit of a pissing contest really. A group of us, all typically cocky high achievers, we were all competing I suppose. I wanted Lakeswood originally, but I needed a mortgage to afford it, hence why I was outbid. By the time the mortgage compan
y agreed to up my borrowing facility, the house had been sold to someone else. I didn't know it was Aaron until you worked there. He wasn't part of our group."
"Your house is far nicer," I told him, "but why keep it a secret? It's the bit I don't understand."
He pulled me into his arms, wrapping them around me. "I was selfish, just enjoying the purity of what we had. Sitting in your little bedsit, just hanging out together, it meant I got a break from being Drew McCarthy, flash git and all-around bastard. What I didn't take into account was that your need for a break from the poverty you were in was far greater than my need for a bit of escapism. I'm sorry I did that to you."
"You expect me to feel sorry for you?" I asked, exasperated.
"Nope," he said, popping the 'P.' "You should never feel sorry for me. My only concern is that you think I'm a certain type of person. I just wonder how you're gonna feel about the real me."
"The same I expect. Maybe you showed me your true self, not the mask you wear for the world."
He just shrugged. "Are you hungry? I could eat a horse."
The moment was broken. I followed him back down to the kitchen to see what there was to eat. He had an enormous American fridge, which, upon inspection was pitifully empty, containing only milk and a couple of out-of-date ready meals. "I should've asked Mum to fill it up for me," he said.
"Isn't there a supermarket up the road?" I asked. "We could go now; it wouldn't take long."
Andy pushed the trolley, while I chose some shopping. It meant we wouldn't be living on takeaways and I'd get to have a play with the beast of a range cooker in his kitchen, which was so pristine. I guessed it hadn't seen very much action. As we wandered around, Andy seemed to relax and enjoy himself, choosing some expensive steaks for that evening.
Back at the house, I unpacked the shopping and worked out how to use the fancy griddle plate, while Andy opened a bottle of wine. He sat at the island while I prepared our meal. "This is very cosy and domestic," he remarked, as I checked on the oven chips.
"You say it like it’s a bad thing."
"Not at all."
As I cooked, I felt his gaze the whole time. I wondered if he regretted having me stay, disrupting his solitary existence and using his showroom-fresh cooker. I felt awkward, a bit tongue-tied around him, knowing I'd invaded his space by virtue of circumstance, knowing he'd done his best to keep me away. I dished up our food carefully and placed his plate in front of him.
"Talented little thing aren't you?" He said, before digging in. I stood on the opposite side of the island, picking at mine, unsure if I should make myself at home too much. He didn't seem to notice.
"Is my being here going to annoy you?" I asked nervously, "I can go and look for a room tomorrow."
He put his fork down for a moment. "Course not. I like having you here. I told you already I wish I'd been honest from the start. If you cook like this every night, you can stay. I've not had proper oven chips in years." He smiled tentatively. I relaxed, silently chastising myself for being so needy.
After we'd eaten, I cleared away and tidied up the kitchen. "What would you like to do this evening?" Andy asked.
I shrugged. "Whatever you like." I fully expected him to suggest some telly or a film. Instead he surprised me by suggesting a bath.
"I never really use it," he said as he sat on the edge filling it. He even tipped in some bubble bath, which scented the air in his large ensuite beautifully. I twisted my hair up into a knot, having to secure it with one of his tie clips, as I had no grips. As I slid into the hot bubbles, the enormity of the task ahead crashed over me. I didn't have so much as a hairbrush, let alone all the various clips, grips, and accoutrements girls acquire from years of dealing with wayward hair. I barely noticed Andy sliding in behind me, until his arms gently wrapped around me. For some reason, this tender gesture caused the dam to break. I let out a sob. "Hey, you're safe now," he said softly, pulling me in tighter.
"It's not that," I managed to say. "I realised I don't have a hairbrush, or any makeup, let alone a change of clothes." I sounded dumb, given how worried he was about my life being in danger, but to me it was important. I may have only possessed cheap stuff, but it was my cheap stuff, bought from my own labours. I'd never seen it as vital before, but now that it was all gone, I longed for the safety of my little bedsit. It was the first night in the children's home all over again.
"My mum will help you, I'll even take you again at the weekend if you like."
I picked up the flannel and wiped my face. Leaning back onto his chest, I felt warm and comfortable. "The first day I arrived in the kid’s home, I had nothing at all. My nurse had got me a dress and shoes from a charity shop, but I had no underwear apart from a pair of hospital paper knickers. It was like my life had been erased. I became invisible, worthless even. It was three days before anyone realised I had no clean clothes and my feet were blistered from the plastic shoes worn without socks."
"What happened then?" He asked.
"I was given some hand-me-downs from the other girls," I said. "The horror of having to wear second-hand knickers has never left me. I bought my very first new clothes with the money from my Saturday job."
He kissed my shoulder. "You, my darling, will have the best of everything. You'll never have wet feet or blisters ever again. I'll make it my mission." He began soaping my back, working the lather into my tense muscles, trying to relax me. "Now that you have the McCarthy clan seal of approval, you get the considerable resources available to you, namely, my mum. She's the most efficient, organised person on the planet. She'll have you kitted out in no time."
"I'll get a few bits to tide me over, but I can wait until Ms Gadd pays out to really have a splurge." I felt his hands slow to a stop.
"I've already said I'd pay for new things. You don't need to wait."
"I don't want to be in debt any more. You of all people should understand that."
I heard him suck in a breath. "You won't be in debt."
"I still think I should wait until I know whether or not I'm going to prison first. No point having a wardrobe of nice clothes if I'm in the clink."
I let my words sink in. He needed to understand that however well-meaning he was, my situation was dire and no amount of platitudes would cover up the fact that I was in deep shit, plus jobless and homeless for good measure.
"It won't come to that," he tried to soothe. It was exasperating.
"How do you know? You don't seem to get it. I'm homeless, jobless, and pretty much skint with a huge court case hanging over my head. I actually don't think it could get much worse." The tears were falling again. Big, fat ones dripped into the bubbles. "And I'm placing all my trust in a man who doesn't even love me. You like me, remember?" Sarcasm dripped from my tongue. I was so far down the black hole I no longer cared what he did. For all his knight-in-shining-armour routine, he hadn't actually managed to achieve anything of substance for me.
"Do you really believe that?" He breathed. I turned to face him and let him see my tears. I nodded. "Is that why you left me for Aaron?" He asked, realisation dawning.
"I thought I was your fuck-buddy, just a girl you could casually see on your terms, without having to involve me in your life. Aaron could see it too, pointing it out at every opportunity..." I trailed off, mindful he could kick me out, and I'd be sleeping in a shop doorway.
"I hate that I made you feel like a casual shag. I never meant to. I'm just not good at expressing myself. Didn't you listen to the words of the songs I sent you?"
"I did, but as nice as they were, they weren't coming from you. As things stand, I feel awkward here, knowing you didn't want me in your house, with your family. I've been imposed on you through circumstance, and it's not what you would've chosen, I realise that."
He shook his head. "You're completely wrong. I like you being here. I should've been open from the start, and I know that. You can trust me though. I'd never risk losing you again. That week you left me; I've never known pain like it.
I was a wreck, sitting in here, plotting which songs to send you because I'm too emotionally stunted to actually say the words myself. I just wish I knew how to make you realise…" He trailed off. I could see how worried he was, the little line between his brows had appeared.
I used the McCarthy trick. I stayed silent, mentally willing him to open up. "Do I need to spell it out to you?" He snapped, annoyed at my silence. "OK, I'm in love with you. I'm stupidly, totally obsessed by you. For the very first time in my life, the controlled, cold Drew McCarthy is completely helpless. Happy now?" He held my gaze, apparently unsure how I'd react.
I stroked his face, watching as he leaned into my touch. Then I brought my mouth to his and kissed him. As I rested my hands on his chest, I could feel his heart hammering. It'd taken a lot for him to open up. Eventually I pulled away. "I'm in love with you too, but you already knew that," I reminded him.
"Let me take care of you," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Let me be the one to give you all the things you've never had."
It was everything I needed to hear. The bath water sloshed as I lay on him to kiss him again, pouring all my feelings into the connection between our lips. His hands roamed the length of my body, touching as much skin as possible, setting nerve endings alight as they stroked and kneaded. Without another word, he pulled me out of the bath, picked me up and carried me to his bed, still soaking wet.
He wasted no time plunging into me. I gasped at the sensation of him filling me, stretching me inside. As he began to move, I understood that he needed to take back what was his. It was a show of dominance as he grabbed my hands, pinning them above my head with his as he thrust into me hard and fast. My hips moved with his, meeting him thrust for thrust. It was raw, animalistic fucking, and we both wanted it.
I let go first, the sheer sexiness of being so needed by this beautiful, complex man, coupled with the pace and power of his lovemaking, pushed me over the edge. I came with a shout, arching off the bed as he continued to buck into me. "You. Are. Mine," he said as he rode my orgasm mercilessly, before letting go himself. He buried his face in the crook of my neck as he pressed in deep. I could feel it pulsing inside me.