A Twist of Fate (23 page)

‘No,' I snapped, but then realised that was ridiculous as I'd just been standing in a queue in a café. ‘Yes, actually, all right then, a skinny decaf latte. No, not decaf, regular.'

‘Sure,' he said, standing up. ‘Good to see you, by the way.' He smirked at me then took my place in the queue. I was back to wanting to hit him.

‘Sit down, Caroline, sit down,' crooned Dawn. She sounded as if she took some sort of voice laxative. I sat. ‘What do you think?' she asked.

‘Of what?'

‘Him.' She indicated Paul. ‘I thought you two were at it, I have to say, but he assures me you're not.'

‘No.'

‘What?'

‘We're not. At it.'

She laughed. ‘Glad to hear it, because … I am definitely after a piece of that.'

‘The carrot cake? It's very good here.'

She stared blankly at me for a moment. There was a fork on the table. If I was fast enough, I could gouge her eyes out.

Dawn let out a spluttering laugh. ‘Oh God, Caroline! Don't be stupid. Not the bloody cake, the arse! I mean, look at it.' Her eyes were fixed on something over my shoulder, presumably my lover's backside. I could probably draw it for her now on the napkin perfectly, every curve, swell, rise and dip. I didn't need to look. But to maintain the deception, I turned and glanced at Paul's bum. God, it was fine, I have to say, but I tore myself away, turned back to her, and cocked a dispassionate eyebrow.

‘Yeah. Nice bum.'

‘Don't tell me you weren't sorely tempted. No one believes all that “nothing happened” shit.'

‘Nothing happened.' It was easy to lie to her. Paul at last returned with my coffee.

‘There you go.' I took the cup from him. Our fingers brushed. I glanced at him. He met my eyes briefly before concentrating on his own drink.

‘Thanks,' I muttered.

‘What are you doing here, Callie?' he asked.

‘I did a radio show.
Mind over Music
on City FM.'

‘That's a great one,' declared Dawn. ‘With Conrad Merchant?'

I nodded.

‘Oh, he's fab, isn't he?' she gushed.

I nodded. ‘Fab.' Paul glanced at me, his lips pursed. My annoyance was bristling off me, mainly towards him.

‘I'm trying to persuade Paul to do a slot on the
Breakfast
show. A sort of survival slash outdoorsy thing once a week. I think the women of Britain would love to see him getting down and dirty on a regular basis while they nibble their Crunchy Nut, don't you?'

‘Gosh, Paul, it'll be
Strictly Come Dancing
next,' I said, widening my eyes in exaggeration, but keeping my mouth dead straight.

Paul gave me a glare but said nothing.

Dawn reached over and touched his sleeve. ‘Oh, Paul, you could do that anyway. They'd definitely have you. They've asked me loads. If you do it, I'm doing it.'

He laughed in disbelief. ‘I am not doing
Strictly Come
… whatever it is.'

I wanted out. I drank my coffee so fast it scalded my throat. I didn't care. I stood up quickly. ‘Right. Got to go. Bye, everyone.'

‘So soon?'

‘Yup.'

‘I won't be long. Why don't you hang around a bit?' Paul asked sincerely. I shook my head.

‘I understand what it's like,' said Dawn. ‘It was nice seeing you. Paul, we've got a lot to discuss anyway. Bye, Caroline.'

‘Callie. It's Callie. Only my incontinent great-aunt calls me Caroline.'

‘Right.' Dawn's smile vanished. It was her turn to shoot me an icy glare. ‘Bye.'

I was at the door before Paul could call a farewell after me.

Ten minutes later I had my text. ‘Will call ASAP. Settle.'

Settle. He'd said that in a none too gentle way just before he'd buggered me for the first time. It had worked then. This time it made me want to hurl my phone into the Thames.

I sat by the river on the Embankment and looked across as the Eye turned slowly and surely, barely perceptibly.

I knew nothing was happening between them. I did trust him in that, completely, but why had it infuriated me so much? He hadn't told me. He hadn't mentioned it, and I was fearful. Dawn Turner was a fearsome predator, professionally and personally. If she wanted something, she generally got it. The thought of her feasting on Paul made me sick to the stomach.

My phone rang. It was him. I let it ring as long as I dared before answering.

‘Yes?'

‘Callie, it's all OK, you know.'

‘Why shouldn't it be?'

‘You looked like you were going to murder someone back there.'

‘Hmmm. The only thing stopping me was that I couldn't make up my mind who to dispose of first.'

He chuckled. ‘Look, I want to see you. You still up in town?'

‘Yes.'

‘Where are you?'

I paused only briefly before answering him. ‘I'm sitting on the Embankment. Opposite the Eye.'

‘I'll be there in a few minutes.'

He hung up. Should I wait? Or should I hurt him the way he hurt me? I dropped my head. No. That wasn't me. Jealousy and resentment brought out the worst in me. It was something I'd always battled with. Paul made me so strong, why couldn't I build on that? I sat there and waited, but managed to restrain myself from looking around every few seconds to see if he was coming.

At length, someone came and sat down next to me, long firm legs, gorgeous smell. ‘Hello, you.' The northern lilt immediately made my stomach do its little dance of desire.

I didn't reply. It was my prerogative to sulk for a few moments, at least.

‘Sorry you had to catch us together. It was exactly as she said, you know. She's been trying to get me onto her show since I got back.'

‘She wants to get you onto her tits.'

‘Perhaps, but she can find another monkey for that.'

‘She's very persistent.'

‘I know that. But so am I.'

I turned to him. ‘I know that.' He held my gaze and his mouth ticked up at the corner. God, I loved the way he smiled. ‘So … are you going to do the show?'

‘No chance. That meeting was it. Final. Told her not to keep contacting me.'

‘Why didn't you tell me?'

‘That I were meeting her?'

‘Yes.'

He shrugged. ‘We only just sorted when and where, and anyway … I thought you wanted to draw attention away from us. I knew people would see me and Dawn.'

That instantly made my temper flare. ‘Oh great! So you want people to think you're shagging her?'

He turned with what was approaching a glare, aggrieved by my own anger. ‘You wanted people to think you're still with Rufus.'

‘Rupert.'

Paul turned away from me and slammed his fist down on his own leg. ‘Jesus, Callie, I'm doing my best here! What the hell do you want?' He stood up and glared down. ‘This is crazy. I'm happy to keep it secret if that's what you want. I can't stand the fucking publicity, but I just want to be with you. Stop putting obstacles in the way. We race forward and I get this great surge of adrenaline and sheer fucking happiness, and then I come up against a fucking emotional assault course or something.'

‘Yeah, well … that's me, is it? An emotional assault course. Thanks a lot.'

What could I say to that? I shut up. So did he. But I didn't leave. After a time where he stood with his hands in his pockets and stared into the river, he sat down again.

I closed my eyes and took the deepest breath. ‘I'm sorry. I know. I'm a mess.'

He leaned around to me, looking hard into my eyes. ‘No you're not, you're just not honest with yourself. There's only one answer you need, Callie, nothing else matters. One answer to one question.'

‘What?'

‘What do you want?'

As I looked at him he grew blurry. Tears welled up in my eyes. ‘You know what I want.'

‘Aye, I think I do. But
you
need to say it.
You
need to know it.'

‘I want you.'

His face relaxed. ‘Then you've got me. You know you've got me.'

I nodded through my tears. He broke into a smile and leant in to kiss me. Right there in public, the deepest, purest, warmest, most certain kiss. And I kissed him right back. I even forgot to worry if there were any cameras spying on us, but when we parted I did have a little look around. There were none.

Twenty-seven

Paul had to go back to work. I went into school to sort out my classroom. A deep satisfaction settled in me. Settle. That was the right word with Paul. He settled me, and I would let him.

We went to his flat that night and the sex was more unified and incredible than ever.

I slept in his arms until three a.m.

And then it happened.

Knocking. No, hammering, on the door of the flat.

I sat bolt upright, my mind dull with sleepy confusion. Paul was still out for the count next to me. The hammering continued and there was shouting, calling. The people at the door made no attempt to disguise who they were. It was the police.

‘Paul! Paul!' I shook him hard, my heart racing, my mouth dry. ‘Wake up, wake up! Something's happened, something's going on.'

He woke up groggily then sat up suddenly, tense and alert when he came to his senses. He looked at me and I saw fear in his eyes. For the first time ever, I saw terror pass through him. My heart, which had been thudding away relentlessly, was momentarily stopped. I had never felt so uneasy.

Paul threw himself out of bed and pulled on some sweat pants. ‘Stay there,' he commanded, his voice dark. ‘Don't show yourself.'

But I couldn't stay in the bed. Throwing a robe around me, I padded out after him, hiding around a corner of the corridor, but listening intently.

The door opened.

‘Paul Mason?'

‘Yes?'

‘I'm arresting you on suspicion of burglary, possession of a firearm with intent to endanger life, grievous bodily harm, and armed robbery. You do not have to say anything. However, it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?'

‘Yes.'

I'd heard wrong. I was still asleep, still dreaming. Time would rewind and none of this would be real. But time didn't go back. I could still hear the policemen's voices.

Why wasn't Paul protesting? Why wasn't he resisting arrest? Why wasn't he telling them they'd got it all wrong?

I heard the clanking of metal. Handcuffs.

‘It's not what you think,' he called out, loudly, for my ears, I knew. ‘It wasn't me.'

The policemen muttered something about saving it for his interview and I heard footsteps scuffing the carpet before retreating to the tiled hallway.

‘Trust me. You must trust me.' Again, Paul spoke loudly so that the words carried to me. It was still the same level voice, the most reassuring voice in the world, but it now contained a note of urgency that knocked me out of orbit.

The door was slammed shut. He was gone.

I raced to the window, careful not to be seen, and looked down. Sure enough, with his hands cuffed behind him, Paul was guided into the back of a police car and driven away.

For a time I couldn't move. I had been hurled off the rock and was sinking fast into the smothering waters. My knees gave way and I crumpled to the floor, the life gone from me.

When I opened my eyes I could picture only him being put into the car. If I closed them I saw him pinning Tom Yearsley to the wall, ordering his men to shoot, shooting the Afghan man.

Paul. Paul.

I said his name over and over until it nearly lost its meaning, became disassociated from him. I had to because the Paul I knew wasn't this man. A man who had just been dragged off in a police car, arrested on suspicion of GBH and armed robbery.

Who was he? I didn't know after all. Had I ever known?

After some time, I stumbled to the bedroom to gather my clothes. The sheets were still crumpled from where we'd made love just a few hours ago, when the world was still right, more right than it had ever been.

From out of nowhere my stomach heaved violently. I ran to the bathroom and vomited into the toilet. After pushing myself up dizzily, I leaned heavily on the basin and turned my head to the mirror. The face which stared back at me didn't know herself, let alone anyone else. Nothing made sense. Life was askew.

I put on my clothes as if in a dream and staggered outside. There were no trains, no buses. I wove my way through the streets, not sure where I was, eventually flagging down a solitary minicab, something I'd once sworn never to do. But it took me home. I fell into my flat, collapsed onto my bed, and cried out my loss.

Twenty-eight

The thin light of dawn eventually deigned to bring a semblance of life back to me. I didn't speak to anyone at first. I just lay or sat, staring vacantly ahead. My mind was so full of questions that it had given up and drawn a blank. I had no answers any longer. I'd only needed the one, after all, and he was gone. He was wrong.

Hadn't I known all along? It seemed obvious now. That was why I'd doubted, that was why I'd hesitated.

But then I remembered the comfort of him, the security of him, his hands, hands which had undone the seat belt, hands which had helped me ashore, hands which had stroked and soothed and held me, hands which had brought me such pleasure that I forgot myself.

That was it. I had forgotten myself. He had made me forget myself.

What had the policeman said? Burglary, grievous bodily harm, possession of firearm with intent to endanger life, armed robbery. Nausea threatened again and I pushed a hand to my mouth to stifle it.

My phone rang. Despite myself, I scrabbled for it desperately, staring at the screen for his name.

It was Tina. I answered, intending to be strong, not to mention anything.