Me and You

by Claudia Carroll

  ‘If that’s what you want,’ she eventually said. ‘But I warn you, you won’t like it.’

  ‘Christmas Eve, two years ago,’ Simon said, insistently. ‘How about you just start from there?’

  They both looked at her intently while Jean sat back, eyes half shut, trying her best to bring to the surface a memory she’d tried for so long to suppress.

  Christmas Eve. And sure enough, little things slowly started to come back to her. The way Christmas was without doubt the most exhausting time to work at Byrne & Sacetti, but somehow that particular night was very different. Ordinarily, after a late-night shift, Jean remembered how she’d practically crawl out of the place, dead on her feet with bone tiredness. But not that night.

  ‘This’ll sound completely mental to you both,’ she began falteringly.

  ‘Just try us,’ Simon told her coolly. Christ, he certainly wasn’t making this any easier for her. A horrible, tense pause as Jean tried to read his face. But it was useless; all she could see was cold, flinty anger practically coming off the guy in waves now.

  ‘Well, it’s weird, but I can still remember how happy I felt. Just this overwhelmingly feeling of deep contentment and optimism about the next few days and how magical it was all going to be. I’d just finished up in work and not only was I officially on a week’s leave, but I was so looking forward to treating you on your birthday the next day. Remember?’ she said, looking directly at Angie.

  A tiny sniffly nod from Angie was all she got in reply.

  ‘It was my full intention to give you just a brilliant, no-holds-barred pamper day at the Sanctuary Spa, Angie, you have to believe me. Then I was so excited about heading off on holliers with you,’ she said, this time looking directly back at Simon, willing herself to meet his eyes.

  But then I always looked forward to anytime you and I were together, she wanted to tack on, but couldn’t. Jesus, this was so much harder than she ever could have thought! She so badly wanted to say that she’d honestly never felt as happy in her whole life, as she’d done during their time together; her gorgeous, handsome, loving Simon; at least that’s how she’d always remember him, regardless of his feelings for her now. So frankly she wouldn’t have cared where they were headed for Christmas or what they were doing over the holidays, just as long as they were together. If he’d told her they were booked to spend two weeks sleeping rough under a bridge in Tubbercurry while busking for food scraps during the day, she’d have burst out laughing and gone along with it. As far as she was concerned, bring it on.

  God, there were times back then when she had to pinch herself every time she even thought about Simon. How in the name of God had someone like her ever got so lucky? Someone so damaged, who vowed she’d never trust another man again, as long as she lived? Then out of the blue, to somehow find a man like that, a real, rare diamond, a complete gentleman, who treated her so amazingly well. Who’d even grown to know every single one of her faults and who, astonishingly, still seemed to love her in spite of everything.

  And there was something else she needed to say too. Something else that was putting that added spring into her step as she practically bounced along dark, deserted Camden Street, that icy cold night, humming ‘Santa Claus Is Coming to Town’ under her breath. Earlier that day, she’d been rummaging round the spare room at home when a suitcase belonging to Simon that had been perched precariously on top of a wardrobe, came clattering down on top of her. And out fell a package, a small, square, beautifully wrapped little box. She knew right well she should have left well enough alone, but curiosity got the better of her and, in spite of herself, she opened it up to peek inside. A ruby engagement ring, tiny and so, so perfect. Suddenly an instant wave of something near akin to euphoria came over her … Jesus, she didn’t even need to think of what her answer would be, when he asked her!

  Hardly appropriate to mention it now, though. To put it mildly.

  ‘Em … are you OK?’ Angie asked her in a tiny, worried voice. ‘Are you sure you want to continue?’

  ‘Yeah. Sure.’ At least, she’d certainly try. ‘Well, I can’t remember how far I’d got down the street after I left work,’ she went on as clearly as she could, ‘but I do remember, just on impulse, going to whip my mobile out of my bag to text you.’ A quick glance up at Simon, but apart from the slightest flush, he stayed statue still.

  ‘Way too late to call you, of course; besides, I knew you were in Galway with your family at the time and I didn’t want to wake you. I just figured it would be a nice little surprise for you in the morning if you woke to find a late night message. Just saying something light and breezy, that’s all.’

  Like, I love you, she had actually been going to text him: she remembered clear as crystal, but didn’t say. Couldn’t.

  ‘Anyway, I do remember stopping in my tracks on the pavement and whipping round this backpack I had, to fish my phone out. But when I started to rummage round for it, for the life of me, I couldn’t find the shagging thing. Then I remembered. ’Course I wasn’t able to, it was still in my locker in the staff room where I’d dumped it earlier, wasn’t it? So I knew I’d have to go back for it. No choice. I wasn’t working the next day and wouldn’t get the chance again. It was late, but I had a set of keys to get in. Besides, I figured Joyce would still be there. Well, either Joyce or Sacetti himself; one of them was bound to still be around, doing up the tills before finally clocking off for the night. One of them was always around. Sometimes,’ she half smiled, ‘I used to secretly think they might even sleep in the place overnight.’

  ‘So you went back?’ said Angie.

  ‘Yeah. I remember just turning back the way I’d come, amazed at how quickly the streets had cleared of drunk Christmas revellers and just how deathly quiet it was by then. There was just the odd car zipping past me, but that was about it. I remember checking the time on a clock above a pub close to the restaurant. It was just coming up to two a.m., which of course meant the main door to Sacetti’s would be locked, barred and bolted; I’d have to use the staff entrance. ’

  Angie just nodded and took it up for her. ‘Which was down a tiny alleyway that ran alongside the whole building. But were you not terrified? Going down a dark alleyway on your own at that hour of night?’

  ‘If I’d known what was waiting there for me, I certainly would have been,’ Jean said wryly. ‘But at the time, no, I wasn’t.’

  But then, she thought, that was one small advantage of surviving what she’d come through: you knew you’d never know fear like that again, so therefore you didn’t sweat little stuff like being on your own down a dark alleyway late at night. Piece of cake.

  ‘Go on,’ said Simon curtly, jaw clamped tight, almost like it was wired shut.

  The build-up was straightforward enough; but this would surely be the hard bit. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself.

  ‘I can remember …’ but she broke off here. Because suddenly this was tough, far tougher than she ever would have thought.

  ‘Want me to get you some water?’ Simon asked, and she nodded gratefully .

  ‘Take a breather,’ Angie said, eyes brimming over with concern now. ‘We know this must be horrendous for you.’

  ‘No, it’s OK, I’ll keep going,’ she told them, willing herself just to toughen up a bit and get it over with. Easier said than done, though; after all, these were memories she’d long since filed away in a corner of her brain, sealed off and labelled ‘Do not enter’. Still, though, it was better they knew, far better just to get it all over with. They were right. She owed them at least the full story.

  ‘And then …’ she tried her level best to pick up where she’d left off.

  ‘Yes?’ Simon asked tersely.

  ‘… Well, I remember seeing this black Jeep parked right opposite the staff entrance, but the windows were tinted and it was so dark, I wasn’t able to make out the driver. Initially I wasn’t worried; I figured it was just a minicab Sacetti had waiting to take him and Joyce home, nothing more.
In fact, I remember half wondering if I’d be cheeky enough to try and scrounge a lift myself. Anyway, I fished the staff room keys out of the bottom of my bag and went up to the entrance. I was nearly there, almost home and dry; I can still distinctly remember having the keys in my hand to get inside, I was this close to safety …’

  She had to stop herself here. The rest was just too painful. If she’d just been a bit faster, if she’d got inside the building quicker, she might have made it. God knows, she’d certainly spent long enough over the past two years beating herself up about it. And still, even after all this time, the nightmare would resurface.

  That voice suddenly coming from directly behind, stopping her dead in her tracks.

  A man’s voice, one she hadn’t heard in years, instantly turning the blood in the veins to rock-solid ice.

  ‘Hello, Jean.’

  No one called her Jean. No one had, not in years. She wasn’t Jean any more, she was Kitty.

  There was only one person she could think of who’d ever call her by that name. Slowly, trying very hard not to show any kind of fear, she turned round and there he was. Smiling, actually smiling, like he was delighted to eventually have found her.

  ‘So this is where you’ve been hiding out on me all this time.’

  There was total silence round the table now, all eyes focused on her. Then Simon ordered water for her and when it appeared, she gratefully took a sip.

  ‘Your ex was there, wasn’t he?’ he asked, and was she imagining it or did he sound a bit less cold now? ‘Joe McGuinness.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, Jean!’ Angie burst out. ‘Why couldn’t you have made a run for it, or at least tried to? Surely there might have been someone on the street who’d have stopped to help you?’

  She shook her head. ‘Because it was useless to even try. Shocked and all as I was, I knew that much. For God’s sake, he had a car; he’d have been after me in a matter of seconds. Besides, there was a tiny part of my mind that told me it was probably in my best interests to play him along. For a while, at least.’

  ‘But why?’ Angie insisted. ‘I don’t get it, after everything that guy put you through?’

  ‘Because I needed to know exactly how much he’d discovered about my new life. I had to find out just how long he’d been on to me. After all, he’d already tracked me down to where I worked, so did that mean he now knew where I lived too?’

  She didn’t tell them what else she had to find out. Did he know who her new circle of friends were? Did he know about Simon?

  ‘So you see, I had to know, to find out everything. I had to be able to gauge exactly how threatened my whole new way of life was before I could do anything at all. Believe me when I tell you it was against my better judgement, but I went quietly. I knew of old that it was always easier if you didn’t put up any kind of a fight with this guy.’

  And so two minutes later, she stepped up into the Jeep beside him and allowed him to drive off into the night.

  ‘This is the part that none of us knows,’ Angie says, almost on the edge of her seat by now. ‘So where did he take you?’

  ‘To this apartment that he’d taken on a short lease in a complex right behind Christ Church Cathedral,’ Jean told her. ‘I remember thinking it was very Celtic-Tigerish altogether; it had its own private lift in the basement car park, that swished you all the way up to the top floor to the place he was renting. Which was bad news for me, meant we met no one on our way in, saw no one. Which meant no one knew I was there.’

  ‘Go on,’ Simon said tersely.

  Taking deep breaths and by some kind of superhuman effort, managing to keep outwardly calm, Jean willed herself to keep going.

  ‘Well, the next hour answered pretty much every question I needed to know. It turned out that he’d been searching for me for years and eventually he’d shelled out a fortune on a private detective to track me down, which of course terrified the living bejaysus out of me. Because if that was the case, and if I really had been so untraceable all that time, then what had finally given me away? I was beside myself to know. He was drinking whiskey, I remember, and so I just sat there letting him talk on, though I made bloody sure to keep his glass well topped up.’

  She looked over at them both and saw that Angie was vigorously nodding her approval.

  ‘You see, I figured the drunker he was for this, the easier it would be for me. Besides, by then, I was burning up to know exactly how he’d found me and in the end it turned out to be something so mundane … ’

  ‘What was that?’ Simon asked, looking at her keenly.

  ‘Well, it seemed that out of nowhere, and when he least expected it, the private detective had chanced on this lucky break. A colleague of his just happened to be in Byrne & Sacetti one night and mentioned there was a waitress there who answered the description of a woman he’d been looking for. Fitted the picture to a T. Same height, build, eye colour, same crappy, bushy hair, same kink in the nose; absolutely everything seemed to match. Except the name.’

  ‘And?’ Angie asked, ashen-faced by now.

  Jean paused and took another sip of water before going on. ‘Well of course, I just felt nauseous at that; I mean that it was something as haphazard and open to chance that finally led him to me. I can remember how every instinct in my body told me to turn and bolt for the hills, but I knew I just had to stay and learn more. So he kept on drinking and talking and I let him. And I was glad I did, because it turned out there was at least one thing in the whole sorry mess that I had to be grateful for. The more he rabbited on, the more I realised that it had only been a matter of days since he’d traced me to the restaurant. So I was hoping against hope that there hadn’t been time to do much more scouting round since then.’

  ‘Why was that so important to you?’ Simon asked.

  ‘Because I wanted to keep you all safely out of this. I had to.’

  ‘But that’s what I don’t understand,’ he insisted. ‘Why couldn’t you just have told us the truth?’ Then with just the tiniest break in his voice he added, ‘Don’t you know I’d have moved heaven and earth to protect you from him?’

  She shook her head firmly. ‘You couldn’t have,’ she answered him simply. ‘No one could. You’ve no idea what he’s like. He’d ruined my life once before and wouldn’t stop until he’d done it all over again. This is a man who had been sabotaging my friendships for years. He’d do it all again. Jesus, he’d have seen it as his life’s mission. He wouldn’t have let up until he’d driven us apart. All of us,’ she said, taking in Angie this time.

  ‘Well, I can’t accept that,’ Simon said, shaking his head. ‘No one has the right to upend anyone else’s life. We’d have made sure that never happened. Got the police involved if necessary. We’d have done anything. You had other options open to you, besides just running away. Plenty of them.’

  ‘Did I?’

  Impossible to tell them how she’d really felt that horrific night. She shuddered involuntarily a bit just at the memory. How everything around her, even familiar things, suddenly seemed to be so frightening, pointy and terrifying. How threatened she suddenly felt, even in a city she’d come to feel so happy in. And now it was all over. Had to be. She knew that for certain. The wonderful, happy new life she’d carved out for herself was finally over. Like a magical dream that she always knew would have to end one day, when hard, cold realities suddenly had to be faced. He’d seen to that the minute he discovered where she worked and what her new name was. Kitty Hope’s days were numbered the minute she saw that black Jeep parked at the side entrance to Byrne & Sacetti.

  Simon was wrong, she didn’t have any choice.

  ‘Kit— sorry, I mean, Jean,’ Angie said, looking plaintively across the table at her, ‘if you can, please keep going with the story. Remember, we’ve tried to second-guess what actually happened that night so many times, I have to find out the truth.’

  Jean sighed and picked up where she’d left off.

  ‘So there I
was, trapped in this ridiculously plush apartment with … with—’

  Another sip of water just at having to invoke that name, before she could even go on.

  ‘Take your time,’ Simon said.

  ‘And he just kept talking on and on, really began his charm assault in a big way, just like I knew he would. God,’ she added bitterly, ‘he even recycled some of the same tired old clichés I’d been listening to him pedal out years before. Begged me for another chance. Said over and over how sorry he was for everything that had happened between us in the past. Told me how much he hated himself for ever hurting me. Swore on anything that moved it would never happen again. Said that it didn’t matter where I went or where I took off to, he’d always find me. ’Course, I almost wanted to throw up at that and had to fight hard against the urge to smash the glass he was cradling and slam it into his face. But then I kept reminding myself, getting out of there safely was the number-one priority, wasn’t it? It was in my best interests to let him talk on and so that’s what I did.’

  ‘But how did you manage it?’Angie blurted out, ‘I mean, how did you eventually get away from him?’

  ‘Fed him enough drink to fell an army,’ Jean said dryly. ‘He was never really able to handle it anyway, so every time his glass was even half full, I’d take good care to top it up to the brim with whiskey. And sure enough, the amount he’d had to drink eventually made him doze off. So that’s when I did it. I just tiptoed out the door, miraculously made it out of the building and safely down in the lift to the street outside.’

  ‘And absolutely no one saw you,’ Simon said, shaking his head.

  ‘Not a soul. It was well past five a.m. by then and still pitch-dark, but my luck was in. A taxi with its light on was just driving down the street, so I flagged it over and hopped in. Better yet, the driver was a foreign national who didn’t seem to speak much English and who certainly had feck all interest in finding out my entire life’s history, like most Dublin taxi drivers. Last thing I’d have wanted.’