by M E Whiter
"You look so much like her," Judy comments, distractedly, as she continues our routine. I stop midway through the exercise, to give her a puzzled look.
"Excuse me. Like who?"
"Crystal. If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were sisters," she responds quirking her lips into a tight grin.
“Do you mean Sebastian’s dead wife? You knew her?" I ask, as I get back to bending and stretching my injured knee, as instructed.
"Yes. We weren't exactly friends, but I did know her. And, you have the exact same eyes as she did.”
“So, what was she like?" I’m suddenly curious to know more about this woman, who captured Sebastian’s heart so completely. A small part of me can’t help feel a little jealous of her for that.
"She was one kinky lady, I know that much. I used to see her at this club, I worked at downtown. She always arrived and left on her own, but she'd hook up with some guy, while she was there. I can't imagine her husband knew what she got up to."
"Oh. And what was that?"
"Well, it was a sex club. So, you can guess what goes on.”
Oh My God! I have no idea. I didn't know such places existed, let alone what goes on inside one. But Judy certainly does, going by the gleam in her eyes.
We manage to finish the rest of the session, even though I found it difficult to concentrate. My mind was in a state of turmoil, trying to process Judy’s scandalous insinuations about Crystal. A woman I know nothing about, except that she was the love of Sebastian's life. I find it impossible to equate the woman Judy’s describing to me now, with the image I saw of Crystal, in her portrait at the art gallery. She looked so elegant and graceful. So pure.
The worst thing, is that, if what she’s telling me is true, then I can't imagine Sebastian being married to someone like that. The way he talks about her, leaves me with little doubt that he knew nothing about her infidelity. I wonder if he even knew, she was into ‘kinky’?
Just then, I feel Judy tugging on my arm, trying to get my attention. "It's time for your massage and then we're finished for the day. I just need you to strip off and put this robe on," she says, putting it on the table. "I'll wait outside while you change. Just call out when you're ready.”
When Judy comes back into the room, she gets me to lie back down on the massage bed, face down this time. Starting with my shoulders and neck, she gently massages jasmine-scented oil into my tender skin. After a few moments, she picks up our conversation from where we left off.
"So, what's it like living here, with Sebastian Mr Knight?"
"I don't live here. I'm only staying here as a guest, until my cousin comes back from her trip, and then I'll be staying with her."
"I'm sorry, I just assumed you were his, you know . . .?"
"No, I don't know," I reply, having no idea what she's talking about but getting really irritated by her vague insinuations. I wish she'd just come out and say what she really means. She moves down to massage my legs, but instead of feeling relaxed, her touching my body is making me feel uncomfortable and highly agitated.
"It doesn't matter," she finally says, picking up my foot. "Please, just forget I said anything." I do just that, the instant her fingers touch the sole of my foot with feathery lightness, it tickles, making me squirm.
"Sorry," I whisper. "My feet are very sensitive."
"That's alright, I'll just do the other leg and then we're done."
When Judy leaves for the day, I go and take a long hot shower. Then afterwards, I change into a red sweater and grey maxi skirt. Hobbling down to the kitchen, I catch the tantalising aromas of something cooking, and on cue, my stomach starts to grumble. When I enter the kitchen, Claire is standing over the stove, stirring what looks like a red bolognaise sauce.
“How did your session go?” she asks, putting a lid on the casserole and turning off the stove.
“Much better than I had expected. I’ve never had physiotherapy before,” I reply, leaning on my crutches.
“Would you like me to make you a sandwich for lunch?”
“Yes, but I can make it, if you’re busy?” I suggest, not wanting to interrupt her work.
“It’s no trouble, you just sit and rest your leg. What would you like on it, we have pastrami, ham or chicken?”
“Chicken, please,” I reply, choosing the same stool, I sat on earlier.
“I’m cooking a lasagne for dinner. There should be enough for two nights. Mr Knight can heat it up when he gets home."
“Thank you, I haven’t had home-cooked lasagne for years. My Aunt Peggy used to make it for us, on special occasions.”
“Well, I hope you like this one. Is there anything you'd like me to pick up for you, before I come in tomorrow?"
“No, nothing I can think of, thank you.”
Chapter Sixteen
FRIDAY, 22nd August
Rachel
YESTERDAY AFTERNOON, BEFORE Claire left, she let me know, that she wouldn’t be in today until after her doctor’s appointment. So, this morning, I fixed my own breakfast, of tea and toast with jam. I sit on the sofa in the family room, with my leg propped up while I eat it, looking at the dismal grey sky outside. It’s been raining since I first woke up this morning and doesn’t look like it’s going away any time soon.
My mood isn’t any better, thinking of last night, after Sebastian got home. We spent the evening watching an action movie in the media room. Sebastian’s choice. When he announced he was going to bed after it finished, I was disappointed and a little frustrated, when he didn’t offer to escort me to my room this time. And no goodnight kiss, either.
I don’t know why it upset me so much. I’m only here for a few days after all. So, I shouldn’t even be fantasising about him kissing me. It’s not like this attraction we seem to have for each other, could lead anywhere. And even if it did, it wouldn’t last very long. I’m flying home in a few weeks.
Despite all of that, I had promised myself, I wouldn't let anything distract me from working towards my dream of becoming a professional artist. But, it seems my heart isn't as good at keeping promises, because I haven’t been able to stop thinking of Sebastian kissing me, not once, but twice now. He is definitely the master of seduction, when it comes to knowing how to kiss. Both times had been unforgettable and intensely passionate. Of course, I can’t help thinking about what he’d be like as a lover? Everyone knows what they say about Latin lovers.
My being here in his home, and seeing him every day, doesn’t help with keeping my daydreams at bay, either. I find myself fantasising about what it’d be like, if we were living together here as a couple? Shaking my head at my own wayward thoughts, I get up and take my dirty dishes to the sink and rinse them out. I then go to my room and get changed, before Judy arrives for my morning’s physiotherapy session.
It's just after one, when Claire walks through the doorway into the family room, where I’ve been reading, since Judy left, after our session concluded around mid-morning. When I look up, I notice she’s carrying a large parcel under her arm. ”Hello Rachel, this just came for you," she says, placing it down on the coffee table in front of me. “Were you expecting a delivery?”
“No, I wasn't,” I tell her, picking the parcel up to read the label. But, the sender's details are blank, giving me no clue who sent it. Tearing open the padded pouch, I begin thinking that maybe Sebastian has sent me a present. But, when I tear apart the tissue paper inside, I gasp in shock, to find it's my missing handbag.
Claire notices the shocked expression on my face, “Are you alright Rachel?" she asks, sounding concerned by my reaction. "You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
“It’s my handbag.” I explain. Then I tell her how it went missing after my accident.
“Why don’t I, make you some tea?”
“Yes please, that would be good,” I reply, staring at my handbag, still in shock. The memory of my Aunt Peggy making tea, whenever there was some crisis, comes to mind. It's something else these two women have in common. The tho
ught, helps to calm my mind.
“Well, this is a bit of a surprise,” I tell her, as she brings two cups over, and sits on the sofa next to me. "I wonder who found it?”
“Have you checked inside, to see if everything is still in there?" Good question.
"I hadn't even thought to look," I reply, unzipping the bag and taking a look inside. My heart sinks when I find the bag has been completely cleaned out. The only thing in it, is a folded piece of white copy paper.
Pulling it out, I unfold it to see if there's anything written on it. There is something. It's handwritten in small legible print. I read it out loud, my blood turning cold as I do:
note tucked inside one of the inner pockets. When I open it out, and read what it says, my chest clenches so sharply, I feel like I’m going to have a stroke. My vision turns bleary, and I have to pick the note up and re-read it a couple of times, just to make sure, I’ve read it correctly.
Dear Miss Day,
I thought you might like your handbag back. I hope you are recovering well after your unfortunate accident. You should be more careful in future, otherwise next time you might not be so lucky. Tell your new boyfriend I will be in touch. Until then . . .
There’s no signature at the end, to tell me who it’s from. When an irrational thought pops to mind, I suddenly drop the note, fearing that it might blow up in my face.
“I have no idea what this means?”
“It sounds to me, like someone is trying to scare you. Rachel," she says, showing her concern. "I think you should phone Mr Knight, right away and tell him.”
“Yes, but I think I'd rather wait until he comes home, so he can read the note for himself."
When I pick up my cup of tea, my hands are shaking and I nearly spill it over me. The impulse to leave, to get away from this threat, is almost overwhelming, but I manage to suppress it for now.
“Well, it's up to you. I can stay until he gets home, if you'd like?”
“Thanks Claire, but I’ll be fine, really. I think I'll go and lie down for a bit though. I feel a bit tired, after this morning’s session with Judy.”
“Alright then,” she says, taking our empty cups back to the kitchen. I get off the sofa, and grab my crutches, heading out of the room.
"If I don't see you before you leave, Claire, then I'll see you tomorrow."
“Have a good rest, Rachel. I’ll phone tonight, just to make sure you’re alright.”
No sooner does my head hit the pillow, when the tears start to flow, making a damp patch on my pillow. I turnover on my back, staring up at the blank ceiling, my thoughts are in disarray, not understanding what is happening. I keep volleying back and forth between the two questions, at the top of my list: Why is this happening? Who’d want to hurt me?
My mood drops, when I get tired of the mental torture. In the end, I feel nothing but numbness. My tears dry up, and I start to feel a lot calmer, not that my emotions are no longer in control. The only question glaring me in the face, I still haven't dealt with is: how did the person who returned my handbag, know where to find me?
A chill runs through me, thinking that maybe, I'm not safe here, despite Sebastian promise.
I SCREAM WHEN I feel something touch my cheek. My eyes fly open, expecting to find danger, but instead, I find Sebastian sitting on my bed. The room is in shadow, so I know it must be just after sunset now.
“Jesus, Rachel! You scared the hell out of me.” He reaches over and turns on the bedside lamp, the warm light casting out the shadows. I realise that it must be just after sunset by now. He can see my face clearly now. And the first thing he notices is the puffiness around my eyes. “Rachel, why have you been crying?” he asks, alarm registering in his dark shadowy eyes.
I stare off into space, my throat too choked up to be able to speak. My only response, is when my body starts to tremble, threatening to spill a fresh round of tears.
“Rachel, please talk to me. What is wrong?” Sebastian pulls me against his body, his strong arms encircling me, while I cry into his chest. His white cotton shirt soon becomes saturated with my wet tears. I turn my head to the side, taking in a few deep breaths, until I regain some control over my emotions.
“I . . . um, a parcel was delivered this morning, addressed to me,” I stammer against his chest, hearing the words in the note, replaying in my mind. “My missing handbag was inside.”
He grabs my arms, pushing me away, so he can see my face. “What the fuck? Who sent it?” he asks, his voice sounding harsh. It’s the first time I’ve heard him swear.
“Rachel, talk to me,” he repeats again, shaking me slightly, to gain my attention.
I stare up at him and tell him, “I don’t know. There’s no return address on the parcel, there's only a note that came with it.”
“A note? What’s in the note?”
I shrug, and look away, not wanting to voice out loud, those dreadful words, that have been repeating, over and over in my head, all afternoon.
“Where is the note, Rachel? I want to see it,” he demands, climbing off the bed. He waits for me to do the same, and then passes the crutches to me. Together, we proceed to the family room, where I had left the parcel on the coffee table.
Sebastian reaches the note first. He doesn’t say a word, until he finishes reading it. “This arsehole does not even have the guts, to sign his name.” He drops the note and picks up the handbag. “Was there anything in here, when you opened it?” he asks, giving it a thorough examination, both inside and out.
“No.” I answer, shaking my head.
Dropping the handbag back on the coffee table, he turns his attention to me. A deep furrow appears across his forehead, as he looks deeply into my eyes. “Have you told anyone, you are staying here?”
“No, I haven’t. Why?” I ask, sinking down on the sofa, I can’t stand any longer, feeling like a heavy weight is pressing down on me.
“This note could only have been sent by Connor Black. But, the question is, how the hell did he know you were here?”
“I wondered that myself.”
“Besides Peter Logan, James and Mrs Jones, there are only a select few, who know you are here. Damon, Gloria my secretary and Tom Beckett. I cannot imagine any one of them, breaching the security protocols.”
Before I have a chance to speak, he pulls out his phone from the breast pocket of his jacket, and presses a button. I sit in silence, thinking to myself while Sebastian waits for someone to reply. I'm feeling both physically and emotionally drained after all the crying, I’ve done today. When I quiet my thoughts, I only manage to catch the last part of what Sebastian is telling the person on the phone.
“. . . I want you to handle this personally, Damon. Use Barney, he can start with the security tapes . . . No, I will phone the police . . . no, they still do not have any leads. Okay, just let me know, the minute you have something. You know where to reach me. Bye.”
When Sebastian hang up, he immediately, makes another call. This time, I can tell it’s Detective Beckett. I listen in, while Sebastian gives him the brief, about the handbag and reads the note out to him. After that, I tune out, until I hear my name being said.
“. . . but just to be safe, I have decided to take Rachel away for a few days, just until we can establish, who sent this note, and if the threat is real.”
What? He didn’t ask me, if I wanted to go anywhere?
“Thanks Tom. No, nothing, you? . . . Yes, that is strange. Just one minute, I will ask her?” Sebastian hits the mute button on the phone and then turns to look at me. “Tom would like to come by, to talk with you again. This evening, if you feel up to it?”