Shut Your Eyes (The You Don't Know Me Trilogy Book 3)

by Lee, Mandy

  ‘Yes, we are. You’re invited, of course.’

  ‘We’ll be on the road.’ He taps the atlas. ‘But we’ll make the effort to come home for that. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m just glad our two favourite ladies are happy again. And we know Slaters is going to be safe in your hands, Daniel.’

  Lucy coughs.

  ‘What’s up?’ Little Steve bristles.

  ‘He’s branching out … into portraits,’ she explains.

  ‘And?’ He turns to Dan. ‘I’m guessing you’ll be starting with Maya’s work.’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘Well, I’m not surprised.’ He winks at me. ‘They’re incredible, darling.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I must say, I never thought you’d go in that direction, but maybe people are more your thing now. Feelings, experiences, humanity. It must be the Daniel Foster effect. You’ll be getting commissions,’ he states matter-of-factly.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know.’

  ‘Trust me. I can smell success. And we ought to celebrate.’ He claps his hands and leans forward. ‘How about we close early and take a long liquid lunch?’

  ‘Can’t,’ Lucy answers. ‘Clivey’s taking me out for dinner.’

  ‘And neither can we,’ Dan adds. ‘Maya wants to go for a walk.’

  ‘A walk?’ Little Steve stares at me, aghast. ‘What’s that all about?’

  ‘Putting one foot in front of the other.’ I give him a sarcastic smile. ‘Fresh air and freedom.’

  And a couple of bloody big surprises.

  ‘I don’t get it, darling. Do you?’ Little Steve pouts at Big Steve, and Big Steve shakes his head. ‘The weather’s a bitch today. Who’d want to walk in that crap?’ He waves a hand at the window, and then he begins to bounce around on the sofa, clapping again like an over-excited sealion. ‘Good God, I’ve just realised something. This is the first time you two have been here together since … well, just after you met.’

  I think back to that first time, and Dan’s unexpected appearance.

  ‘Do you remember what you said?’ Little Steve asks Dan.

  ‘Of course I do,’ he answers quickly, sliding a hand around my back. ‘I always get what I want in the end.’

  Oh yes, you do, I muse silently, planting a kiss on his lips.

  And maybe a little extra on the side …

  A taxi drops us off outside Lambeth House.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ Dan asks. ‘It’s about to piss down.’

  ‘I want a walk.’

  And we need to be at our destination within the next half an hour.

  ‘I’ll get an umbrella.’

  ‘No.’ I grab hold of his arm. There’s no time for that. We’re cutting it fine as it is. ‘We’ll be okay.’

  ‘We’ll be wet.’

  ‘I don’t care.’

  He shakes his head at me.

  ‘Your future wife gets what your future wife wants,’ I remind him. ‘And right now, she wants a walk.’

  With a sigh of resignation, he holds out a hand, palm upwards. ‘Come on then. A walk, it is.’

  Beneath a leaden sky, we make our way down the South Bank, passing the first bridge and skirting along the side of Lambeth Palace. It’s not until we’ve crossed the road at Westminster Bridge that the crowds really show up in force. The Eye’s looming in front of us now, a circle of steel, turning relentlessly, swallowing up a seemingly endless supply of eager tourists. Still holding Dan’s hand, I pull to a halt and look up, involuntarily putting my free hand to my stomach, sensing that its contents are already beginning to swirl. It’s okay, I tell myself silently. I can do this. And besides, it’s all planned. There’s no turning back.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he asks.

  I nod up at The Eye.

  ‘Big round thing,’ I stammer. ‘Fancy a ride?’

  ‘In that? You’ll have a meltdown.’

  ‘No, I won’t.’ I swallow hard, determined to stand my ground. ‘I want to go on it.’

  ‘Maya.’ He’s trying to be understanding. I know he is. But there’s a hint of exasperation in his voice. ‘Gibb’s lighthouse was one thing. This is another. You’ll be trapped in there for at least an hour.’

  ‘Actually, it’s half an hour,’ I reply, my knees already threatening to give way. ‘I can deal with it. I want to do this, Dan. In fact …’ I pull a piece of paper out of my coat pocket. ‘I’ve booked us a private capsule.’

  He frowns.

  ‘Are you mad?’

  ‘Possibly.’ I wave the paper about. ‘I got lucky. There was a cancellation. It cost an arm and a leg.’

  ‘Maya …’

  ‘I want to face my fears, Dan, and I want to do it in style. No arguments.’

  He squeezes my hand.

  ‘Fruitcake.’

  ‘You’re one to talk.’

  I lead him through the crowds, up a set of steps to the VIP entrance. With the ticket checked, we’re scanned by security guards, Dan grumping when he sets off an alarm, and he’s forced to show the scars on his leg. Finally, we’re guided to a short queue. Listening to the hubbub of voices around me, I shuffle nervously from one foot to the other. I’ve fulfilled my part of the plan, and now I need to know my accomplice has followed suit.

  ‘Just a minute,’ I mutter. ‘Wait here.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Wait.’

  Leaving him in the queue, I head back to the VIP gate, scanning the crowds for one face in particular, and thankfully finding it. I issue a particular set of orders to the security guard before returning to Dan’s side.

  ‘What was that all about?’ he asks, perplexed.

  ‘I just wanted to know how fast it goes.’

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’

  I shrug and slip into silence. Before long, we’ve reached the front of the queue. Our capsule arrives, the door slides open, disgorging its previous occupants, and I stare straight ahead into what’s to all intents and purposes, an egg. I swallow, realise my mouth has dried up, and look at Dan. Ignoring everything else, he’s fixed on me.

  ‘You don’t have to do this.’

  ‘I want to.’

  There’s a woman in front of us now. She’s motioning towards the egg, urging us in, and it’s clear we need to be quick about it.

  Breathe, I urge myself. Just bloody well breathe.

  ‘Get behind me. Put your arms around me, like you did at the lighthouse.’

  He nods, and does as he’s told.

  ‘Now, get me in that pod.’

  Quickly, he manoeuvres me forward, across the threshold, into the capsule, and then down to the far end. Suddenly, I’m surrounded by glass. I’m about to be totally exposed to the height. My heart rate’s already on the rise, and there’s a distinct possibility I might just vomit, but I’ll keep this under control if it kills me. Unsteady on my feet, I pivot round in his arms and clamp my hands to his back.

  ‘Just stay like this.’

  His eyes settle on mine. I hear a soft thud, the door closing, and then it’s quiet, the sound of the crowd muted. I’m sorely tempted to glance over his shoulder, but I can’t. I need to keep his attention fixed on my face.

  ‘Okay.’ I swallow again. ‘Keep holding me. Don’t let go. Keep looking at me. Stay right where you are.’

  Because I’ve been the queen of sneaky, and the last thing I want right now is for you to see what’s going on behind you. I wait a minute or so, until we’ve risen past the point of no return, and then I make a start.

  ‘Okay, so, you know I’m shitting myself?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’m facing my fears head-on.’

  ‘I know that.’

  Three short, sharp breaths.

  ‘And you’re about to do the same.’

  His body becomes tense.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  My heart jitters. It’s crunch time.

  ‘The first thing you need to know is this …’ Oh shit, it’s gone. Now it�
��s time for the grand performance, I seem to have forgotten every last bit of my rehearsed speech. In the absence of anything else, I opt for the usual incoherent babbling. ‘I’ve messed up. When I thought we were over, I stopped taking the pill, and then in New York I got carried away, and then I was going to sort it out, but I never got round to it in time, and I didn’t sort it out, and well, your Gentleman’s Relish, it’s taken effect.’

  ‘Relish?’

  ‘There’s a bun in my oven.’ I smile uneasily. ‘And you put it there.’ Oh, just say the words … ‘I’m pregnant.’

  His lips part. His forehead furrows. I watch the blue irises harden. He shakes his head and suddenly my pulse is racing. Is he annoyed? Angry? Pissed off that I’ve gone and done this behind his back? I reach up and close his mouth.

  ‘You’re going to be a dad.’

  ‘Pregnant?’

  ‘Sorry.’

  He blinks a few times, shakes his head again, and then goes back to staring at me.

  ‘Are you angry?’

  ‘No,’ he answers quickly. ‘You’re pregnant?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘A baby?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re going to have a baby?’

  ‘Yes.’

  His eyes lose focus.

  ‘Dan, are you alright?’

  ‘A baby …’

  ‘This is shock, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good shock?’

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘So … you’re okay with it?’

  ‘Okay with it?’ He takes a few, deep breaths. ‘Of course I’m okay with it. A baby … it’s … yeah … a baby.’ The ghost of a smile flits across his face. It’s quickly banished by disbelief. ‘But fucking hell, Maya, you’re pregnant, scared of heights and we’re on the fucking London Eye?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Oh yeah, right.’

  ‘Yeah, right. Now let go of me.’

  His arms tighten.

  ‘No. You’ll go into meltdown.’

  ‘Let. Go. Of. Me.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’m going to be sick,’ I lie.

  And that does it.

  ‘For fuck’s sake.’

  As soon as his grip loosens, I pull away and try to compose myself. It’s not easy. We’re already ascending above the trees in Jubilee Gardens, and worse than that, I’m being subjected to a Daniel Foster glare.

  ‘Of all the mad things you’ve ever done,’ he growls, raising a finger at me, ‘this takes the fucking biscuit. You’re putting our baby at risk …’

  ‘Oh, calm the fuck down,’ I growl back. ‘As long as you stay calm, I’ll be fine. And stop pointing at me.’

  Still glaring, he lowers his hand.

  ‘Now … I want you to turn around.’

  ‘What?’

  He cocks his head. The glare disappears. It’s replaced by confusion.

  ‘And I want you to listen.’

  Slowly, the realisation dawns on him. He knows exactly why I’ve lured him onto the Eye, landing him with the pregnancy bombshell as we rise into the air. And what’s more, he already knows who’s standing behind him, who sneaked in, unnoticed, while he was dealing with an anxious fruitcake of a fiancée. He looks out of the pod, his eyes flitting sightlessly across London’s rooftops.

  ‘Well done,’ he whispers.

  ‘I’m sorry, but this was all I could think of. And it’s done now, so you’d better get on with it.’

  He nods at me, and turns. I stumble over to the bench at the centre of the carriage, plant myself on it, grip the edge and stare at my shoes. As Layla’s voice wafts through my head, I can only imagine the expressions flitting across his face.

  ‘Hi, Dan.’

  Well, at least she’s calm. And considering what happened the last two times she tried to make contact, that’s a bloody miracle. I sit and wait, every muscle clenched in preparation for a nasty scene. I’m shocked when he simply says her name.

  ‘Layla.’

  ‘Please don’t panic.’

  No answer.

  ‘I know you want to kick and scream and get out of here, but so does Maya.’

  ‘You knew she was pregnant?’ he asks.

  I’m assuming she nods.

  ‘But I didn’t know she was scared of heights.’

  I manage to look up, and find her shaking her head at me. I’m getting a silent telling-off from my future sister-in-law. But that doesn’t bother me. I’m more concerned about the man who’s standing between us, currently fixated on the floor. The desperation’s clear to see, in the quick rise and fall of his chest, the blank expression in his eyes, the twitching fingers. I just want to throw my arms around him and tell him everything’s going to be fine.

  ‘Pregnancy aside,’ Layla goes on. ‘If Maya can take it, so can you.’

  ‘I don’t exactly have much choice, but I suppose that was all part of the plan.’

  ‘Sure was,’ I tell him, blithely. ‘Let’s call it revenge for all those times you trapped me. There’s no getting out of this, Dan. You can’t run. And you need to stay calm for my sake.’

  He nods, returning his attention to the floor.

  Well, I reassure myself, at least he’s not whirling about like an octopus on acid… not yet at any rate.

  ‘Let’s just get this out in the open,’ Layla begins. ‘Maya told me what happened. You were the one. You beat him up.’ She’s talking quickly, clearly determined to reach the end point before he implodes. ‘And first of all, I want you to know this. I don’t blame you. I saw what he did to you, I saw how he behaved, and I don’t blame you at all.’

  She pauses, giving him time to reply, but nothing comes.

  ‘He turned on me after you went. I want you to know that. I didn’t have to put up with anything like you did, but he was a bastard to me. I lost count of the times I wished he was dead.’

  I hear a tiny groan, and realise it’s mine.

  Snapping into action, Dan comes toward me.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Out of nowhere, irritation’s taken hold. It’s probably something to do with the fact I’ve just spotted Big Ben. It’s already below us, and now I really do feel sick. ‘Get on with it…’

  ‘But …’

  He reaches out, and I bat him off.

  ‘I’m three miles high in a stupid glass egg,’ I snarl, locking eyes with him, ‘and I want to puke. I’m not exactly enjoying this, Dan, so just fucking get on with it. You’re going to be a dad and I don’t want any twisted shit left in your head. I want you happy and sorted. Capiche?’

  He blinks a few times. ‘Capiche,’ he murmurs before turning back to his sister.

  ‘Layla,’ I breathe. ‘Tell him what you told me.’

  ‘I can do better than that.’ She reaches into her handbag and pulls out a sheet of paper, nervously offering it to Dan. ‘A post-mortem report.’

  As if he’s scared it might burn a hole in his hand, he stares at it.

  ‘You never checked it out?’ she asks.

  He shakes his head.

  ‘Just ran away and buried your head in the sand? Well, that’s a shame. The coroner said there was no definitive link between the assault and his death.’

  ‘But it’s possible …’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ she cuts in. ‘He had a scan, just after you beat him up. There was no bleeding at the time, nothing … but they did find a tumour. Malign. Inoperable. It ruptured later, caused the haemorrhage. Even if you’d never touched him, he would have died. That’s what killed him, Dan. The tumour. Not you.’

  She offers him the sheet again and this time, he takes it.

  While he begins to read, I force myself to look out over London, taking in as much as I can: The Houses of Parliament in the distance; toy cars streaming across Westminster Bridge; bathtub boats skimming along the Thames. That’s all I manage before panic kicks in. We’re heading towards the top of the Eye’s rotation now, high
above the city, and that’s more than enough for me. I shut my eyes again.

  ‘I didn’t?’ he asks at last.

  ‘You didn’t,’ Layla confirms. ‘One hundred percent. You didn’t kill him.’

  For the next few seconds, I hear nothing apart from the soft rush of air through the pod’s vents.

  ‘And there’s something else,’ she says at last, her voice almost breaking. ‘He didn’t want a police investigation.’

  ‘Maybe he’d just given up. I presume he knew he was dying.’

  ‘I think it was more than that.’

  Another pause, and I know what’s coming next.

  ‘After it happened, he wasn’t himself. Mum found him one night, in the outhouse, sitting on the floor, staring into space. I never understood why he did that, but now I do. He knew it was you. He could have had you charged for it, but he didn’t.’

  More silence.

  ‘So, he found a scrap of humanity? It doesn’t let me off the hook. I still did what I did.’

  ‘The fact is, you lost control and beat him up, and he understood. That’s it, Dan. You didn’t kill him. And before you go on about Mum, she was already knocking it back, even before he died. She was always going to drink herself to death. That’s her fault, not yours.’

  The seconds drag by.

  ‘There’s a hole in my life, Dan. And it’s not because my parents are dead. It’s because I lost my brother. If you want to make amends for what happened, there’s only one thing you need to do … come back to me.’

  ‘Do it,’ I urge him.

  I’d love to watch what happens next, but until we’ve passed the top, there’s no way I’m opening my eyes again. There’s no more talking. That’s all I know. They could be staring at each other. They could be hugging. I have no idea. In darkness, I count the seconds, making it to just over a minute when I’m stopped by a hand on my shoulder, an arm sliding around my back, strong and protective.

  ‘Keep breathing.’ He pulls me in to his chest, and holds me tight. ‘You’re doing brilliantly.’

  I dig my head into his neck, drinking in his scent, aware that his heart’s thumping.

  ‘You, too.’

  As the minutes pass, his heart rate slows, and I sense the tension ebbing away from his body.

  ‘How’s Sophie?’ he asks at last.