Undefeated

by Reardon, Stuart

  “Yes,” Anna whispered.

  She’d been caught in a horrendous nightmare, but she couldn’t wake up and shake it off. It had ensnared her, dragging her down, down, down, until she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.

  The police officers returned thirty minutes later with a sheaf of paperwork.

  “You’re being released on bail with conditions not to contact Mr. Renshaw.”

  Anna’s mouth dropped open as the police officer continued. All pride gone, she began to sob quietly, hopelessly.

  “Should you breach those conditions, you may be liable for further arrest. You’re being bailed for two months. If you need to travel abroad, you must notify the police through your solicitor.”

  Anna stood on shaky feet as Damian Harris escorted her from the room.

  “I can’t see him at all? I can’t see Nick?” she pleaded.

  Her solicitor’s gaze was severe.

  “You’re to have no contact with him. If you do, you’d be in clear breach of your bail conditions and could be re-interviewed or even re-arrested.”

  A pit of darkness opened at Anna’s feet and she wanted to howl.

  “There are photographers outside,” he said, more gently. “I have a taxi waiting.”

  The nightmare continued as Anna stepped from the police station. The shouting and yelling started immediately.

  “Did you lie, Anna?”

  “How long have you and Nick been seeing each other?”

  “Did you do it for the publicity, Anna?”

  “Do you feel bad about breaking up Nick’s wedding to Molly, Anna?”

  “Prefer married men, do you, Anna?”

  She ignored them all, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground as Damian moved her toward the taxi as quickly as possible.

  Once inside, she sank into the leather seat, exhausted, her body aching, her brain numb.

  She knew that she’d have to run the gauntlet again at her apartment, with Damian reminding her not to talk to any journalists.

  “Why would I do that?” she muttered.

  He gave her a pitying look.

  “In my experience, some clients think that giving their side of the story will help. It won’t.”

  Anna’s lips turned down.

  She longed to see Nick but she couldn’t.

  She had nothing and no one.

  When she walked through her front door, her apartment would be as dark and empty as her heart.

  Nick was fuming. He paced his small kitchen, fury radiating off him, a murderous look on his face that had Brendan stepping away and putting a table between them.

  “What do you mean I can’t see her?! This is bloody ridiculous!”

  “It’s the conditions of bail,” Brendan repeated nervously.

  “How can they say that I can’t see my own girlfriend? Who the fuck do they think they are?!”

  “Um, the police?”

  “I can’t believe this is happening!”

  Nick fisted his hair and screwed his eyes shut.

  He wanted to hit something, break something, destroy something the way he was feeling destroyed inside.

  Despair was mixing with rage. There was no one to fight. There was no way to win.

  “It won’t be forever,” Brendan offered tentatively.

  “I need to be there for her!” Nick yelled, making Brendan cringe. Then more quietly, “She was there for me when I needed someone. Fuck! What do I do?”

  Brendan chewed his lip anxiously.

  “Right now, the only way to help her is to leave her alone.”

  Nick turned wrathful eyes on Brendan.

  “She needs me!”

  “Actually, Nick, you’re the last thing she needs right now.”

  “I have to see her!”

  Brendan lost his temper.

  “This is your fault!” he shouted, stabbing Nick in the chest with his finger. “I’d bet anything that it’s your ex-bimbo who leaked all these lies to the newspapers. It’s because of your court case that this whole fiasco has ended up with Annie being accused of perjury! It’s all because of you! And now you want to be a macho man and ignore her bail conditions. Isn’t her having to spend one night in the cells enough for you? Do you want to see her end up in prison, too?”

  Nick felt as if he’d been kicked in the chest, and he couldn’t breathe.

  “You have to leave her alone,” Brendan said firmly.

  Nick was defeated. Brendan was right—it was all Nick’s fault.

  “Tell her . . . tell her I’m sorry. Tell her I love her, that I’ll wait for her. And we’ll get through this.”

  “I will, I’ll tell her.”

  Nick rubbed his forehead as he slumped into a hard wooden chair, resting his elbows on the kitchen table.

  “This can’t be happening!”

  But it was.

  Stony faced, Anna ignored the reporters who clamoured outside her apartment. She wanted to yell at them, scream at them, You’ve already had your pound of flesh! Go away! Go away! Leave me alone! But she couldn’t. Silence was her only defence.

  She hurried inside, slamming the door behind her.

  But she wasn’t by herself after all—there was someone waiting for her.

  “Brendan!”

  “Oh, Annie!”

  She fell into his arms and sobbed, letting out the tears that she’d tried so hard to hold inside.

  He led her to the sofa where she and Nick had sat together so many times.

  “He wanted to be here, Annie, but he’s not allowed to, you know that. He told me to tell you that he’s sorry, that he loves you and that he’ll wait for you. I’m not allowed to take or receive any further messages, but he means it, Annie, I know he does. He was beside himself. We waited at his flat all night for news.” He paused. “And there’s something else you should know . . .”

  “Oh God! What now?”

  “Uh, well, they’ve started printing stories about your ex . . . some professor guy named Jonathan Frankle.”

  “Oh my God! What are they saying?”

  Brendan grimaced.

  “That it’s your M.O.—find a married man, well, an unavailable guy and . . . you know . . .”

  His words trailed off.

  “I can’t believe this! When will it end?”

  “I’ll make you a cup of tea before I tell you the rest,” he said, patting her arm soothingly.

  Anna blanched. “There’s more.”

  Brendan closed his eyes as if in pain.

  “Tell me!”

  “Your . . . um . . . phones have been hacked.”

  “Oh no! The police warned me . . . I can’t believe it’s happened already?”

  “’Fraid so.”

  “The private photographs?”

  “Yes.”

  Anna looked away, hurt and ashamed. Now she was a victim as well as a suspect. What else would the world throw at her?

  Brendan stayed for an hour, but there was nothing for him to do and Anna was craving the sanctuary of her bedroom.

  Brendan unplugged her landline and gave her a cheap pay-as-you-go for emergencies. He really was the best P.A. a woman could want, the best friend.

  Once he’d gone, the apartment was eerily silent. No phones ringing, no Nick laughing or singing in the shower, no emails to check, no work to do. No one to help her through the agonising misery.

  She took a long, hot bath, collapsed into bed and cried herself to sleep.

  But Anna didn’t sleep well. She tossed and turned, chased by nightmares and nameless, faceless threats. When she finally gave up trying to rest, she plodded into the kitchen to make coffee, feeling tired and stripped raw. Peering out of the window, she saw that there was a different reporter’s car parked outside. Surely they had something better to do on a public holiday? Apparently not.

  Wondering if it was a good idea, she plugged the landline back in and jumped when it rang immediately, sighing with relief when she saw her mother’s name pop up; she longed to hear
her voice.

  “Mom! It’s so good to hear from you. How are you? How’s Dad?

  “Oh, Anna, sweetheart!”

  “I’m so sorry about the photographs. I don’t know how they hacked them, but, oh God, I’m so sorry! Has Dad seen them?”

  Her mother’s voice soft and broken, the words interrupted by muffled sobs.

  “Mom! Are you okay? Where’s Dad?”

  Her words jarred to a halt as her mother continued to cry quietly.

  “Mom, please!”

  Her mother took a gasping breath.

  “Your father . . . he’s had a stroke.”

  “What? Oh my God!”

  Guilt clamped a cold hand around Anna’s heart. Because of the photographs? Because of me?

  “All that red meat, and butter on everything. I kept telling him, but he wouldn’t listen. You know your father.”

  “Mom?” Anna’s voice cracked. “Is he . . . ? Is he . . . ?”

  “We’re at Phelps Memorial Hospital. I don’t know, Anna. It was a major stroke. I don’t know . . .”

  Tears streaked Anna’s face as she fought to stay calm for her mother’s sake, but the shock was too great, and she took great gulps of air before she tried to speak again.

  “I’ll get the first flight home.”

  Her mother didn’t even try to argue with her.

  She didn’t care that she wasn’t allowed to leave the country. She didn’t care that she might be committing another crime. All she cared about was getting to her dad as quickly as she could.

  While she waited impatiently for the first available flight, she emailed her plans to her lawyer. If the British police wanted her, they could damn well come and find her.

  It was fifteen hours before Anna arrived at the 236-bed hospital of Tarrytown, an hour north of New York City.

  By then, the nude photographs of her had gone viral, but she didn’t have it in her to care.

  “Can I stop more of the photographs being published?” Nick asked the Club’s solicitor.

  The man sighed.

  “Once the images are out there, it’s very hard to get them taken down for good. You can try, but they tend to pop up on other websites. You’ll be chasing your tail . . . and it’s expensive to pursue.”

  “I don’t care about that! Just do it!”

  Both Nick and Anna’s phones had been hacked. Even though they’d had security passwords, it hadn’t slowed the hackers for even a minute. It was a wakeup call to realise how easily an expert hacker could gain access without even having to touch the devices. It had all been done remotely.

  Giovanni’s ‘dick pic’ that he’d taken with Nick’s phone did the rounds of some of the gossip sites but with all of them attributing the shot to Nick. That pissed him for another reason—Giovanni’s dick was nowhere as impressive as his own.

  But it was the photographs of Anna posing for him that made him slam his locker door and swear loudly as the other players tried to calm him down.

  “At least she looks hot, mate,” Jason grinned, which was not the best thing to say.

  Nick grabbed him by his shirt.

  “Don’t! Just . . . don’t!”

  Jason raised his hands in the air, looking about him worriedly.

  “I’m just saying . . .”

  “Shut up!”

  “I would listen to him, amico mio,” Giovanni said quietly.

  The team supported him and the Club stood by him, but none of that helped Anna.

  Molly was loving the publicity. As much as possible, she was trying to keep it focussed on her and not Anna. There were photographs of her in skimpy outfits, doing Page Three ‘glamour’ shots, and she appeared on a couple of cheap online talk shows. She was enjoying her fifteen minutes of fame, and eking out every additional second she could.

  Jonathan was also basking in the attention, describing himself in several articles as a “committed family man”, making Anna sound like a stalker who’d blackmailed him into a relationship. He also managed to phrase it to seem as if he’d taken pity on her because she was “unstable”.

  In the same way that possession is nine-tenths of the law, getting out your version of events first played best in social media.

  Nick vented his fury in the gym, beating the shit out of a punch bag.

  Late one evening, he called Molly.

  “Nicky, this is a surprise—not a particularly pleasant one.”

  “Why did you do it, Mol?”

  Her tone was wary.

  “Are you recording this?”

  Nick laughed unhappily.

  “No, just you and me. Unless you’re recording it. Going to make a few more bob, are you, Mol?”

  “Fuck off!”

  “I will, when I’ve said what I want to say. I never cheated on you. Never. Not once. Not even when chances were right in front of me and I knew you wouldn’t find out. Not with Anna, not with anyone. You and me were long over when I started seeing Anna. And you know me well enough—you know I’m telling the truth. So I’m asking you again, why did you do it?”

  He listened to her breathing, wondering if he’d ever get an answer.

  “You deserved it.”

  “Hitting you was an accident, you know that.”

  “You broke my fucking nose!”

  Nick hung his head.

  “I am sorry about that. But did I deserve you cheating on me with Kenny? I was good to you. I treated you well.”

  “You never loved me.”

  “What?! I did everything for you! Everything! I was going to marry you!”

  “I was an afterthought. You only cared about rugby. You were so moody and miserable when you were injured. I was sick of you feeling sorry for yourself.”

  Nick was shocked.

  “I thought I’d never play again! Yeah, you could say I wasn’t exactly happy about that! It was supposed to be for better or worse.”

  “It seemed like worse to me,” she snapped back.

  “You didn’t care what harm it would do?”

  “You’ve got to look out for yourself, because no one else will.”

  Her voice was hard and cold.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Mol.”

  “Don’t be so fucking holier than thou! You’re just the same as me, only you won’t admit it! You’ve got your fancy car and your fancy woman, and what have I got? Nothing! It isn’t fair!”

  Nick didn’t bother to reply. He simply ended the call. It hadn’t made him feel any better; it hadn’t really answered any questions. Molly was a jealous bitch, and she’d never admit she did anything wrong. But it did make him wonder: how the hell could he have ever wanted to marry her? When he thought about how Anna made him feel, he knew that Molly was right—he’d never really loved her.

  Great. Something else to feel guilty about.

  Anna peeled off some bills and thrust them at the cab driver, yelling, “Keep the change!” as she ran toward the hospital entrance.

  The driver had stared at her like he couldn’t figure out why he knew her face. Anna had ignored all his attempts at conversation during the drive from the airport.

  It was almost ridiculous to run now, but she had to. For her own sanity, she needed the momentum, she needed her father to know that she’d gotten to him as fast as she could.

  Her new cell phone had been turned on since she stepped off the plane at JFK, but her mother hadn’t replied to her texts and Anna had been too scared to call her.

  Adrenaline made her shake as she waited breathlessly for the hospital’s receptionist to tell her where they were keeping her father, and then she ran up two flights of stairs and down a long corridor until she skidded to a halt outside his room.

  Unable to stop her hands from trembling, she peered through the window and saw her mother sitting next to a hospital bed.

  Anna pushed open the door gently.

  “Mom?”

  Her mother spoke without turning her head.

  “Anna’s here, Gary. Open your
eyes for her, please, baby.”

  Anna stared down at her father’s grey face, sagging on the right side, his right hand curled into a claw.

  “Oh, Daddy!”

  She knelt on the hard floor and put one arm around her mother’s waist, resting her free hand on top of her father’s.

  “I’m here, Daddy. Please wake up now. I love you so much. Please, Daddy!”

  His left eye twitched and Anna’s mother took it for a sign, squeezing her daughter’s hand.

  “He knows you’re here! Talk to him again, sweetheart.”

  “I’ve missed you so much, Daddy. If I’d known you’d be laying around in bed . . .” but she couldn’t finish the joke and tears came again. “I’m so sorry, Daddy. I’m so sorry I disappointed you.” Her sobs came faster now. “All I’ve ever wanted to do is to make you proud. Please wake up, Daddy.”

  “He can hear you, honey. I’m sure he can hear you,” and her mother turned to Anna, wiping the tears on her cheeks. “He’s always been proud of you. Always. We both have. He missed you so much while you were away, but he was proud of everything you achieved.” Then her eyes turned back to her husband. “Gary, Anna’s here. Time to wake up now.”

  Gary Scott was a big man, an ex-pro footballer, tall and broad with a tendency to gain weight once he’d passed fifty. But he was a fine-looking man; everyone said so. Seeing him in that hospital bed, pale and diminished, it was the worst feeling in the world.

  Anna pulled up a chair and sat on the opposite side of the bed from her mother, each of them holding one of his hands. They spoke quietly through the still of the night, and each hour they watched the man who was their rock slip away from them.

  Dawn came quietly, a whisper of light on the horizon, and Anna rubbed her eyes. She gazed down at her father and stroked his hand.

  “I love you, Daddy. So much. Please wake up. Please wake up, Daddy.”

  But there would be no more waking up for Gary Scott, and an hour later, on January 4th, he slipped away.

  Anna and her mother clung to each other with the stunned faces of shipwreck survivors. And when they couldn’t cry anymore, a kindly nurse led them to a quiet room and took them through the paperwork, telling them what to expect now, who to contact and what to do about the funeral.