I remember you an addict.., p.27
I Remember You: An addictive suspense thriller, page 27
I can hear Olivia pottering downstairs. I drag myself out of bed.
‘Wow!’ Olivia exclaims. ‘It’s hard to pretend you look anything other than rough. Coffee?’
‘Just water, please. And painkillers. Thank you for last night, by the way.’
She opens a drawer and slides the tablets along the counter before handing me a glass of water. ‘Very least I can do. Stay until things are sorted.’
I’m lucky to have Olivia in my life. I think of everything that’s happened between us in the short time since she replied to my party invite and corralled the rest of the neighbours to attend. She has become a true friend. It’s hard to imagine my life without her now.
I spend the day sprawled on the sofa with a cold flannel on my forehead, glancing at magazines and intermittently checking my phone without any real expectation that I’ll receive a response. It’s early evening when the screen lights up.
Okay then. Not sure how successful that will be, but willing to try if you are. Where and when?
What do I say now? My reason for contacting Emma is that I suspect she might be responsible for the recent threats against me. But surely she wouldn’t agree to meet me if that were the case? Unless she plans to attack me again?
I decide to be cautious and suggest meeting during the day and somewhere public. Emma replies to say she’ll see me tomorrow. Her message does not say she is looking forward to the meeting.
35 Victoria, then
Drunk and tired, I fell quickly into a dreamless sleep and awoke before dawn, in need of water and painkillers. I stumbled to the bathroom and then sat on the floor in the hall, taking deep breaths and praying I wouldn’t vomit. I lay back on the carpet and stared up at the loft hatch, considering how I might get the doll’s house down.
I spent the next hour making several very careful trips up and down the ladder from the loft carrying pieces of what had become my most prized possession.
That done, I went to work. Simon agreed to help me transport the doll’s house to Peter’s home. He even unloaded it for me. I suspected Simon might be developing a small crush on me. I decided I would do him the significant favour of not inflicting myself on him. He had done nothing to deserve being involved in my life.
‘So,’ Simon said as he drove me home, ‘it’s good of your dad to look after that for you.’
It had been a long time since I had laughed out loud, but his comment caused me to. It was surprising but wonderful, and once I’d started I could not stop. I felt lighter, as if a weight had lifted. I had found a job, and I had retrieved the doll’s house. I suppose I had achieved something else too. I had made a new friend in Simon.
My new job at the catering company was proving to be very useful. Not just because it meant I was less reliant on Peter’s cash. But also because I was able to use the hours I worked there as an excuse not to spend time with him. I still had to relent and make time for him every few days, but given what I’d endured to date, I could grit my teeth through pretty much anything.
Simon, on the other hand, was proving to be a genuine ray of sunshine. I will never forgive myself for what happened to him. Wrong place, wrong time, with the wrong person. Me.
I had made a few friends at the catering company. A group of us began to go for a drink after our shift. I enjoyed it, though as always, I didn’t share anything about my true background. Simon was part of the group. He was a decent person but I felt no romantic attraction to him. But I was more than happy to accept a lift home from him to save walking or spending money on bus fares.
The moment I walked into the unit I knew something was wrong. The owners were present, and nobody seemed to be working. One of the girls, Catherine, was standing with her hand over her eyes. Her shoulders were shuddering.
When she saw me, Sandra, one of the husband-and-wife partnership who owned the business, hugged me tightly. ‘We have dreadful news.’
My first thought was that I’d done something wrong. That I had somehow been found out. Except I wasn’t sure what I might have done. I remained silent.
‘It’s Simon,’ she explained. ‘There’s been an accident.’
I eyed Sandra suspiciously. ‘What sort of accident? Where is he?’
‘A car crash. His car was found in a field at the roadside. He’d gone through the hedge, lost control somehow.’
‘When? Where?’ I demanded angrily. This was a mistake. Simon was a good driver, too sensible to take risks.
‘Last night. He’d dropped you at home, I think. Is that right?’ Sandra asked gently. She was still clinging on to me. I gently pulled away.
‘Yes. We’d been out for a drink. He’d only had a soft drink though. He was very careful about things like that.’
Sandra tilted her head and put her hands together as if she was about to pray. ‘Perhaps just lost control of the car, took his eye off the road. The police are investigating.’
‘Can I go see him? Is he in the hospital?’
Sandra shook her head and somebody behind me let out a slightly theatrical wail. ‘No, my dear. Simon is dead. We just have to pray he didn’t suffer.’
‘He’s dead?’ My words echoed off the high ceiling of the industrial unit. There was an awkward silence.
I opened and closed my mouth like a fish, unable to process what I’d been told. I was potentially the last person to see Simon alive. How could he be gone? It seemed too cruel. He was kind, generous, harmless and so young. But above all that, he was careful, fastidious. It’s what made him good at his job. Everything done in the right way. So how on earth had he crashed his car on a road he knew so well?
It became apparent that the staff who were due to work today were in no state to do anything practical. We just stood around feeling helpless. A while later Sandra sent us all home, but not before she said we would have to pull together and try to work as normal the following day. It sounded harsh, given what had happened. But we all needed the money.
In the absence of any other option I sought solace with Peter. It was better, barely, than being on my own. I sobbed gently while Peter held me. Even then he couldn’t help but try to instigate something physical. A measure of the man’s character, not that I needed any reminders of his depravity.
I spent the night sitting in the kitchen, sipping coffee and feeling numb. I watched the dawn break, showered and went to work. But being in the prep area was almost impossible without Simon there to guide me.
The atmosphere was heavy. The staff on shift worked in near silence, communicating in whispers. By lunchtime I could bear no more and went to speak to Sandra.
‘Can I try some front-of-house shifts?’ I asked. ‘I’ve done bar work before.’
She smiled sympathetically. ‘I know it’s hard. I like to think we’re like family here.’ I had to agree with her. They were a great bunch, which meant everyone felt the impact of what happened. ‘Now that Simon is no longer with us, we need you more than ever to fill that gap until we can get a new face.’
I trudged back to my station, already planning that this would be my final shift. There was no way I would return tomorrow. This was simply too hard, too awful. But, an hour later my luck changed.
Sandra asked if I was available that evening to work a function. The girl who was due to work had just called in sick. I struggled to hide my relief. Of course I said I would do it. Anything to avoid being in this building. I also recognised it was an opportunity. If I did well, they would use me for other events.
The event was for a corporate client and was being held in the function suite of a local hotel. It was dinner, drinks, after-dinner speaker and a charity raffle followed by music and dancing. My job was to wait tables.
To say it was a shambles would be something of an understatement. I ended up being allocated twice as many tables as had been planned because another staff member had to go home as their babysitter was ill.
As the evening progressed the crowd grew increasingly boisterous, thanks to the free bar. It seemed that every time I went to the table with food, people were shouting drinks orders at me. When I returned with the drinks, people were asking where their food was. The longer this went on, the longer people had to wait, and the more irate they became.
I was hurrying out of the kitchen with a tray of desserts when a drunk guest tried to enter the kitchen to complain about the delay. We collided noisily. Both of us ended up on the floor surrounded by broken glass and cream. There was a lot of laughter from those watching, and shouting from the man himself.
He was led away by his friends, and I dropped to my knees and began scooping up shards of cream-covered glass. Tired, hot and overwhelmed, I started to cry. I was clearly not cut out for this type of work, and I still had another couple of hours in front of me.
The following morning I awoke knowing that I might well find myself unemployed. I lay in bed debating with myself whether to even go to work but, eventually, I dragged myself in. Sandra was waiting for me.
‘Shall we go to the office?’ she said, leading me away from my colleagues.
‘So,’ she began when the door was closed and I was trapped, ‘we need to talk about last night.’
‘Look,’ I said quickly, ‘I’m only an agency worker, so there’s no need to drag this out. I can just get out of your way and there’s no harm done.’
Sandra seemed confused. ‘I think you’ve misunderstood. I asked you in here to apologise for what happened last night.’
I frown. ‘So, I’m not fired?’
‘Goodness, no. Your supervisor tells me you were amazing last night. Difficult crowd, not enough staff – a nightmare. Yet you just got on with it. It’s not your fault some drunken idiot tried to storm the kitchen. But I’m apologising because I hear you were upset and, while I expect my staff to work hard, I do not expect them to be left in tears by that work. For that I’m sorry.’
I had no idea how to respond. I just sat there with a slightly dopey grin on my face.
‘So,’ Sandra continued. ‘Can I assume you’ll remain with us? I’d like you to stay on the front-of-house team. You’re proving to be a real asset.’
I breezed from the office, my head filled with possibilities. But the moment I returned to the preparation area the smile left my face when I saw the space where Simon should have been.
I worked another couple of events for the agency and they went well, so I was assigned even more. My confidence grew, and I felt like I had found something I was good at. But I was also aware how fragile my life was. I was still squatting in my childhood home. I was still sleeping with Peter and taking money from him. My job, great as it was, could end at any time.
Then came the night I met Mike, the night everything changed. When he asked me my name, I smiled, I blushed, and I lied.
‘Alex,’ I said. ‘My name is Alex.’
He called the next day, which was mildly terrifying but also exciting. I had no thoughts about where it might lead, or that it would lead anywhere at all. We agreed to meet for coffee in the afternoon. It was ideal; I had an evening shift for the agency, which gave me a genuine excuse to leave if I needed to.
When I arrived he was already there. I didn’t know if that meant he was too keen or just prompt. I would learn, over the course of time, that he was a stickler for timeliness. He looked tired and was sporting a little bit of stubble with a few specks of grey. His eyes, wide and brown, made his face almost childlike when he smiled.
I listened as he told me about his work, although advertising campaigns and branding meant little to me. I realised I felt completely comfortable. It was that smile. He was just pleased to see me, glad I came. He didn’t see me as prey. No man had ever looked at me that way before.
We talked easily for over an hour before I had to leave for my shift. We arranged to meet again, this time for dinner. I didn’t own a dress so had to buy one. I looked at outfits that I knew would impress a man like Peter and bought the opposite. Mike complimented me, several times. We ate, drank wine, and laughed, and it was natural, comfortable, with no expectation that I would end the evening on my back.
‘Look,’ he said while we waited for the bill. ‘I like you. I’m not saying I have any expectations, but I feel like I should tell you I’m married.’
How could I have misread him? He had seemed so different to men like Peter and Jonathan.
‘Great,’ I replied with heavy sarcasm, my defences firmly in place. ‘Well, at least you paid for the meal.’
Mike’s eyes opened wide and he waved both hands in the air. ‘Wait, don’t misunderstand. It’s not like that.’
So, despite my urge to flee, I let him explain. He told me he was in the middle of a break-up. It was probably too soon to meet someone new, but there I was. Our relationship developed, and eventually Mike suggested I move in with him.
I knew I must cut ties to Peter, and I was glad to do so. I arranged to meet him, for what I knew would be the last time. I walked into the theatre and waited at the bar. Moments later Peter appeared, still clutching papers from whatever rehearsal he had come from. When he saw me he smiled and smoothed his hair.
‘There you are, as delicious as ever. I was thrilled when you said you wanted to meet up. Just thrilled.’ He stood next to me at the bar, close enough that we were touching.
I took a step back and turned to face him. ‘I can’t stay,’ I said, enjoying watching the smile vanish from his face. He looked like a child who has been told they can no longer play with their favourite toy. ‘I’ve met someone.’ I had butterflies in my stomach.
‘Met someone?’ Peter said, either in surprise or disbelief, I wasn’t sure which.
I nodded. ‘We’re moving in together. He’s fantastic.’ My intention had been purely to irritate Peter, but I realised as I spoke that I meant it. Mike was the best thing that had ever happened to me.
Peter regained his composure quickly and smiled, though his eyes remained cold. ‘I’m delighted for you my dear. I hope he can make you happy.’ Then he took my hand and kissed it. ‘I shall, of course, always remember our time together fondly.’
I pulled my hand away, wiped it on my jeans and left without another word. That part of my life was finished.
Mike’s divorce was dreadful. I never met his wife. There were court hearings, solicitors, arguments, but he was insistent I kept my distance for fear I might be dragged into the whole circus. It took a toll on him, emotionally more than financially. But eventually it was over, and I set about rebuilding him, supporting him, loving him, until gradually, the shadows lifted and we knew we would be together forever.
That, really, should have been the end of Victoria. A new life as Alex, built on openness, honesty. Except I had been neither, and despite my best efforts, I could not outrun my past.
36 Alex, now
I toss and turn all night, kept awake as myriad possibilities swirl around in my mind. What if Emma is the one behind the threatening postcards? What if she tries to harm me?
I waste the morning fretting over whether I’m doing the right thing. I have the house to myself as Olivia is running errands. More than once I pick up the phone to cancel the meeting. The rest of the time I battle the urge to ring Mike.
Unable to sit in the house any longer, I set off and arrive at the pub forty-five minutes early. I sit in the car, listening to the radio and worrying about what to say, how to say it. More than this, I am concerned about Emma’s reaction to seeing me after our last meeting. If she is still carrying that anger, then this will be a short reunion. This is why I left the past behind. It always felt too difficult to go back.
I go inside and order a coffee. It’s midweek, just before lunchtime, and I am the only customer. So much for choosing to meet somewhere public.
I finish the coffee quickly. The barman pounces on his sole customer, so I order a second cup. A party of four enter for lunch. At least now there’s a little bit of background chatter. I watch them take their seats and miss the door opening again.
‘Victoria, hi.’
I snap my head towards the voice and jump to my feet. ‘Emma. Hi.’
I step round the table, intending to hug Emma, but she sits down before I have the chance.
Her appearance screams expensive and fashionable. Her hair is long, shiny and honey coloured. Her make-up is immaculate and she is dressed in skin-tight jeans, boots and a matching jacket.
‘You look really well,’ I say enthusiastically. My throat is dry and tight. I hope my wide smile is disguising the near terror I’m experiencing.
‘Thanks.’ Emma glances at me and sticks out her bottom lip. ‘You look tired. Having trouble sleeping?’
‘Actually yes.’
She sighs but does not ask me why. ‘So, I’ve not been here before. Do you live nearby?’
‘No, I picked here because it’s in the middle for both of us. Assuming you still live in the same house.’
Emma narrows her eyes. ‘I do. Can’t bring myself to sell it. After all, it’s where my family lived. So many memories. I suppose I’m just not the sort of person who can turn my back and walk away.’
I wince, feeling the force of her words in the pit of my stomach. I deserve it, but it is not why I’m here.
‘I know I behaved terribly. I’ve apologised before and I can keep apologising. But now you’re here, can’t you at least listen?’ I ask. My feet are bouncing around anxiously under the table.
Emma rolls her eyes. ‘I see you haven’t lost your flair for the dramatic. So why did you get in touch? Why would you want to meet up, after everything?’
‘Partly to catch up after so long. But…’
She scoffs. ‘Look, Victoria. This feels really weird, so why don’t you just get to the point so I can leave?’
I feel wretched and I haven’t even begun to discuss the main issue of the threats against me. I begin again. ‘I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t make up for everything but…’
Emma smiles sarcastically. ‘Sorry?’ she asks. ‘For what? Completely cutting us off after you ran away with the theatre? Mum was really upset. We took you in! You were practically bloody homeless. She treated you like family, and you just cleared off. Who does that?’
