by J. A. Kerr
Her mind froze, and the room seemed to recede as she tried to pinpoint a date in her mind. She couldn’t remember and felt utter panic rise through her. She dressed in a daze, quickly and quietly. Did her jeans feel snug as she buttoned them? Was her silk top tighter than normal? The answer, to her dismay, was yes. She tried to keep calm, assuring herself that it would be a false alarm that she hadn’t taken a period because of all the stress she was under. That could explain it…all the while she kept an eye on Nick’s prone frame asleep on the bed. He was snoring now, a sure sign he was in a deep sleep. Lifting her bag, she slipped out. It was only eight a.m. as she headed to her parents’ room. She tapped on the door, relieved when her father opened it.
“What’s wrong, Siena, you look awful.”
“Change of plans. I’ve left him…Nick. I’ll explain everything at the airport, I promise, but we’ve got to leave.”
Her parents swung into action, quickly packing their cases and making flight arrangements. Her dad had everything sorted in ten minutes and lastly called for a cab. They went down to reception together. Her father told them to go straight out to the cab while he checked out.
“Thanks, Dad, you think of everything,” said Siena gratefully.
“Is this the only way?” he replied.
“Yes, can we please go?”
Siena expected Nick around every corner and didn’t exhale until she was in the cab. If he discovered she was pregnant…she closed her eyes. What a mess, what a mess, she thought. She had tried to stop herself thinking but, of course, that was impossible. She knew she hadn’t used any form of contraception with Benedict. She had stopped using it with Nick as well. In fact, she hadn’t been using anything for over two years, and she had stopped thinking about it.
She suspected somehow that she couldn’t get pregnant; her fears seemingly confirmed as she never had. Now her stupidity had completely backfired. She didn’t know who the father was. It could be Nick’s; certainly they’d made love before she’d left for Spain; more at Nick’s insistence than hers. The thought terrified her because it would tie them together forever. It could be Benedict’s; what would he think of her? They didn’t know each other. She hadn’t even been with him for coffee or dinner. She felt worry and shame wash over her. How could she let this happen? Two months ago her life wasn’t perfect but now…now it was in chaos.
The journey to the airport had been quick and although they were early for their flights, Siena was keen to get through security. She knew once she was safely in departures, then Nick could not get access to her but she needed to do something first. Siena felt agitated. Although they had express luggage; everything was taking too long for her liking. She reined in her impatience as she smiled at the check-in girl, answering her stupid questions as her dad loaded her case onto the belt. Finally free, they made their way towards security and departures, but Siena asked them to hang on for a second as she spotted a pharmacy. Before they could object, she bolted through the doors and hurried up the aisles, not sure if they would stock the item; it was an airport after all.
Her heart leapt as she picked up the pregnancy test with shaking fingers. With so many to choose from it took her several seconds to make a decision; then as she turned, he was there, his gaze glued to the package in her hands that now felt like an unexploded bomb as it slipped from her hands and fell to the floor. How could he be here? He reached down and picked it up.
“Siena, what the hell is going on?”
Chapter 43
THE BRAILLE CLUB
Braille Club, London, Present Day: The Braille Ball is an annual masked party held at Caligo for all Braille members and VIPs. Simple black eye masks are compulsory at the black tie event. It is the ball of the year, held on the last weekend in June. The invitations are like gold dust and coveted by all.
Olivia
Abbey had improved with her parents’ love and care, and Olivia had taken a backseat during their stay, but Abbey had decided to send them home, as they were exhausted. Olivia was more than Abbey’s manager; they were friends. Although used to celebrities and their demands, what she couldn’t deal with was watching her friend lose both her mind and her health. Abbey was on the edge, and she was scaring the shit out of Olivia.
She needed to get her on the road to recovery, to find a reputable therapist who specialised in bereavement to help Abbey. It wasn’t just concern for her friend; Abbey had contractual commitments she needed to fulfil. She was on extended leave on compassionate grounds but if Olivia didn’t sort Abbey out then she was in danger of losing everything. It was a tough business, and if Abbey wasn’t up to the job, there were plenty who were.
Just how young, hungry, and ruthless these emerging stars were stunned Olivia. Abbey didn’t stand a chance against them, but her unique selling point, U.S.P, was her popularity. The British public adored her as did the camera, and she was a natural. But producers wanted her back as her stand-ins were only contracted for another two months; should they extend? They had new projects that Abbey would be great in but they all had deadlines. Television would only wait so long…after all…the show must go on.
Olivia let herself into Abbey’s house with her key and headed for the kitchen to put the kettle on. The amount of pills Abbey took worried her, there was no way she could go on camera looking and speaking like a zombie. The public knew too much now. They recognised dilated pupils or robotic speech; stars of today had a lot to answer for. Lost in thought, Olivia jumped in surprise as Abbey walked into the kitchen.
“Olivia! God, you scared me; I didn’t hear you come in,” said Abbey.
Olivia did a double take, pleased with what she saw. Abbey was dressed in jeans and a pretty top, her hair in a messy bun on top of her head. She looked so much better than the last time Olivia had seen her.
***
Abbey
“Sorry, Abs. You’re looking well,” said Olivia, grinning.
Abbey smiled back tentatively. “Yes, I’m feeling a bit better, all down to my mum and dad. They’ve been amazing.”
More than amazing, Abbey thought…she owed them so much. They had nursed her day and night, taking it in shifts. Her mum had taken the night shift and her dad the day. She had never been alone. They were gentle in their approach to her medication, realising it was her only comfort, but also determined to wean her off. She had been oblivious to them at first as the pills stopped her thinking, and most importantly they made her sleep, something she had wanted to do all the time. She had been so tired she could barely open her eyes, so she had stopped trying.
She wasn’t sure when that had changed. Most of the last couple of weeks were a blur. She had gradually become more aware of her surroundings; her mum helping her sip some orange juice was a big breakthrough apparently, eating some toast the next big milestone, and it had gone on from there. They didn’t stop talking to her even when she’d been asleep, and it had been a strange comfort to her. She felt panicky when awake and insisted on the pills, which her father dutifully gave her, but unbeknown to her the capsules were almost empty, her mother having tipped most of their contents out before putting them back together.
Abbey had not suspected as she gradually became more awake and felt the despair close in. She merely thought she needed a stronger dose. It was her father’s gentle conversation that grounded her. He spoke about anything and everything, from their family holidays to her first audition, his fears and worries about Mark’s career; he had always been strongly against him joining the forces, and it had come between them for a time. He asked her lots of questions and got used to her not answering, but kept trying. He spoke about Steve and hadn’t hidden his anger and disappointment at the way he treated Abbey, but had spoken of his deep sorrow at his passing and the unfairness of life in general.
They had tricked her into sitting in a chair, her mum spilling orange juice all over her and the bed on purpose. She felt woozy and weak, but it broke the cycle, and from then on she would get up and sit in the chair to d
rink her orange juice, grumpy and tired, having not slept a wink the night before. Sighing, she had told her mum she was sure her sleeping pills needed to be stronger, that her body must have got used to the dose, and she would need to increase it, complaining of exhaustion. Her dad moved the TV into her room and watched his favourite sports until she asked if, maybe, they could watch something else. Not that she cared, but gradually, she started to live again.
Although still tired, the deep depression started to lift. She felt bored but she still couldn’t sleep. It was the one thing that was driving her mad. She couldn’t get the image of Steve lying motionless on the bed out of her head. Every night when she closed her eyes she saw him, weak, vulnerable, and dying. The rage at his betrayal constantly bubbling under the surface only made her feel guilty until she pictured his smug, arrogant face. That’s when she decided to go back to The Braille Club. She couldn’t sleep anyway and now she was up and functioning, she understood that drugs were not the answer. She needed something else, some distraction, or she would never get over this period in her life. As soon as she made the decision she felt better, and calm descended on her.
She couldn’t believe how much she stank the day her mother had forced her into the bath. Covered in sticky orange, she knew she didn’t have a choice. Washing her hair and body had felt wonderful, pulling on a fresh t-shirt and joggers empowering, her mum blow drying her hair had made her smile as it had been a complete disaster. But she was on the road to recovery, the shock of Steve’s death and betrayal having pushed her to the edge of a breakdown. Without her parents’ love and support she shuddered to think what would have happened to her. She had been to hell and back and thought it was true about the saying “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”
Getting stronger every day, she wanted her life back. Sensing her parents’ utter exhaustion, it had felt great to book them a surprise holiday in the sun, as her illness had taken its toll on them as well. They loved Portugal, with its warm climate and glorious golf courses, and she had chosen a hotel with a spa so her mum would be looked after when her dad was on the course. They would have landed by now, and she was waiting for them to call. They’d said they wouldn’t go unless Olivia was around to check on her, and Abbey had acquiesced.
She looked Olivia straight in the eye and squared her shoulders.
“I’m ready, tell me everything,” she said.
The next hour passed quickly as Olivia brought her up to date with her work and the rest of the world.
“Mmmmm, lots of decisions,” she murmured.
“Yes, but they won’t wait forever” said Olivia honestly. “Take this week. I’ll courier what’s urgent to you today, and the other proposals you have in the pipeline throughout the week. I don’t want to swamp you.”
Abbey thought of the dark place she had been and knew work would be her salvation.
“What about Liz and Kenny?” she sighed.
“They’ve gone back to Spain, thank God. Once Liz sobered up and heard the charges, she got her brief to contact Mark and said she would leave if he dropped the charges. To be honest he wasn’t going to prosecute but wanted to scare her, and it worked. They’re gone for good; Mark got them to sign something in writing as security.”
“Oh, that’s such good news!” Abbey exclaimed. “Olivia, thanks for everything. I’ll get back to you as soon as I read the paperwork.”
“That’s my girl.” Olivia beamed with genuine warmth, and suddenly gripped Abbey in a tight embrace.
“Welcome back; I thought I’d lost you there for a while,” she said hoarsely.
“Me too,” whispered Abbey, her voice thick with emotion.
Then Olivia was all business and gossip, making Abbey laugh with her stories of her ever demanding clients. Draining the last of her coffee, she got up with genuine regret.
“You’ll be okay?”
“Yes,” said Abbey firmly.
Olivia gave her another quick hug and was gone. Abbey had barely finished cleaning the coffee cups away into the dishwasher when the doorbell rang. Surprised by how prompt the courier was, Abbey opened the door.
Luke stood there, and caught by surprise, she just stared dumbly at him.
“Abbey, sorry to call unannounced,” he said.
Abbey came to her senses and opened the door to let him enter. She led him to the kitchen and offered him coffee, her manners overcoming her shock at seeing him.
He looked serious, and Abbey felt anxiety clutch at her once again.
“Abbey, I’ve brought Steve’s belongings from the club,” he began. “I did ring a couple of times but you weren’t in, so I took a chance today…that you might be home.”
Abbey had her back to him as she asked how he took his coffee.
“Black, with sweeteners if you have them?”
“No, I’m sorry” Abbey replied. “We don’t use them.”
Luke smiled and started to fumble in his pockets, removing his phone and putting it on the worktop to get at a rather crumpled packet of Splenda.
“Aha, found it,” he said delightedly, taking the mug from Abbey and pouring it in. Abbey felt shy in his presence, aware of how much she liked him but equally embarrassed because of what had happened at the club. What would he think of her if he knew? He would despise her, and she couldn’t blame him. She despised herself, she thought wearily. Sensing the change in her mood, Luke looked concerned. Of all Steve’s friends, why had it been Luke who brought his stuff back?
***
Luke
Luke misunderstood her guilt and embarrassment as grief. As she failed to meet his gaze, he suddenly felt awkward intruding into her life at such a time. He also felt guilty—guilty he desired his mate’s wife, his dead mate…and there was the other reason as well.
Thinking about Lucy, about what she had told him, made his stomach clench. God, things were such a mess. He should say something, but couldn’t find the words. He stood up, putting his cup down on the marble worktop.
“I’ll bring his stuff in, it’s in the car.”
Abbey nodded, her face a picture of mixed emotions. He stopped in the hall when he heard a mobile ring, before turning back and breaking into a run at Abbey’s screams.
Rushing into the room, he looked at her, confused and alarmed as she screamed over and over, staring at the number on her phone.
“What is it, Abbey?”
The phone fell silent and then Luke’s mobile started to ring. They both stared at it in silence as “Lucy” flashed up on his screen. Abbey instantly made the connection, the L in Steve’s phone…it couldn’t be…Lucy? She felt bile rise in her throat and rushed to the toilet, where she vomited up her breakfast and coffee. When she came out Luke was waiting, and he took her shaking hands in his and led her to the sofa at the end of the room.
“Tell me,” he said simply.
It all came tumbling out. Abbey told him about the horror of Steve’s collapse, finding the mobile with the texts and realising he was having an affair. While she was boiling with rage, her husband had taken a massive seizure, denying her not only an explanation, but a chance to say goodbye. Her small frame heaved as the emotion poured out and Luke winced at the pain she must have gone through. She told him about Liz and Kenny and then finally she told him about ‘L.’ Abbey got up and brought over both of their phones. She handed Luke his and recited the number she knew by heart and he confirmed it was Lucy’s.
His face hardened as she stutteringly explained that Steve had been having an affair with her. Lucy had told him Steve was fooling around again, but hadn’t said it was with her.
He and Lucy were not exclusive, but it still stung. No man wants to be made a fool of, and it all started to fall into place. Lucy had cooled things off between them and to be honest, Luke had felt relieved. She always seemed to sense when he was tiring of her but somehow he always allowed her back into his life. He knew Lucy. Steve would have been a game to her; she did it because she could, but she usually went for more
of a challenge. Lucy choosing Steve didn’t make sense to him as he was such an easy target. God, this time they were over. She’d gone too far; hurting people never seemed to affect Lucy.
“There’s something else,” said Abbey quickly before her courage failed her. “Lucy and I met at the club and well…I’d had quite a lot to drink, and I feel so guilty, but we…”
“Shhhhhhh,” said Luke. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over?”
“Yes, God yes. I have hated this woman. It has consumed me but now I feel nothing but…relief. Will she go to the papers?”
Luke was thinking, and they both jumped when the doorbell rang. Abbey slowly made her way to the door, relieved to see it was the courier this time. She signed for a large package.
“Leave Lucy to me,” he said.
“I couldn’t find Steve’s laptop…maybe she’s got it, I don’t know. The thing I can’t figure out is Steve was late the night he died. He must have been with Lucy, but how could he when she was with me?”
“I’ll find out,” said Luke.
Abbey looked at him and smiled a small, sad smile. “Thank you, Luke. I’m so sorry for dumping all this on you.”
“Abbey, I feel so responsible. I knew what Lucy did. I knew she targeted married men and women and I introduced her to you and Steve, for God’s sake.”
This time it was Abbey who intervened. “Shhhhhh, it’s over.”
“It will be,” said Luke angrily. “Look, Abbey, I’ll get Steve’s stuff.”
“Yes,” she said, and followed him to the door.
He hurried to the car, his mind a jumble of thoughts and emotions. He remembered his surprise when Steve had asked for a lift that day at the club. He normally got his gorgeous wife to do this; Luke suspected he liked showing her off. Luke didn’t like Steve. He thought he was a total moron, especially to his wife. He couldn’t understand why she was still with him. She was lovely, different to the other shallow WAGs he had met before. She seemed to have both beauty and brains, but apparently very bad taste in men.