Fractured (26 page)

I hailed a cab within a few minutes and gave him the address of the London flat I’d visited with Jimmy just one week earlier. I asked the driver to stop off once on the way so I could make a few essential purchases. My mobile was ringing continually as we drove through the capital, but I resolutely ignored it, as I had done in the hours since I’d finally torn away from Matt on the stairwell. Eventually he stopped calling, perhaps at last realising that all words were superfluous, for there really was nothing left to say.

The driver certainly earned his tip by assisting me into my building with the flat-packed storage boxes I had purchased en route. Once inside my own apartment, although it wasn’t going to be that for much longer, I propped the cardboard containers up against the wall, together with the reels of packing tape, scissors and string I had also bought.

The telephone call to my father was a difficult one. There was no easy way to dress up the situation, and even though I played down the explicit nature of what had happened, his paternal instincts went straight into overdrive. It took almost every last ounce of my powers of persuasion to prevent him from getting on the next train up to London.

‘I don’t like the idea of you being there all alone tonight. You’re just going to dwell on what’s happened.’

‘No I’m not,’ I assured him, hoping the answer wasn’t a lie. ‘I’m going to be far too busy packing to dwell, anyhow.’

Eventually, something in my voice must have convinced him that I was neither manically depressed nor suicidal, for he stopped trying to get me to change my mind and asked only that I call him in the morning. I hung up the phone, feeling certain that the fact that I’d broken off my engagement and was quitting my London flat to return home was not exactly bad news as far as he was concerned. It was too early for me to say if I felt the same way.

I began assembling the storage boxes, distributing them in each room of the flat. I worked methodically, emptying cupboards, drawers and wardrobes as dispassionately as a professional remover; packing up the belongings I didn’t recognise, from a flat I didn’t remember.

I kept very little for the two containers that were returning with me to Great Bishopsford, filling them only with important-looking documentation or old items I recognised from many years before. The charity shops and the local dump could have the rest. I wanted to take as little as possible from this unremembered place with me.

The packing was strangely cathartic, and as box after box was filled and taped shut, it felt as though I was doing more here than just getting rid of possessions. Here at last I’d found the one and only benefit from having amnesia: there was no pain in packing up a life you didn’t remember, no regrets when you were leaving no memories behind.

I lingered only once, over the picture of Matt and me in Paris. Somehow it didn’t seem to belong in any of the boxes, so I created a new pile of items which I thought might have been gifts from him – all too expensive to discard. They could be parcelled up and returned to him sometime soon.

Four hours later I was done. My back was aching, and I was more than a little grubby from my task, but even so I felt for the first time that, despite its horrific revelations, today was the first day I had actually taken a step towards the future and away from the past.

I leaned back against the side of the bed, too exhausted to even get up from the bedroom floor. I just needed to close my eyes for a moment.

Heavy hammering and shouting rumbled from somewhere close by, not near enough to wake me completely. But when the door burst open, with enough force to buckle one of the hinges, that
did
wake me. From my prone position on the floor I looked up, blinking like a myopic owl in the suddenly blazing bedroom light. I tried to focus on the large shape filling the bedroom doorway, silhouetted by the host of lights from the rest of the flat: lights I knew I hadn’t left on.

‘Thank God!’

My ears recognised the voice, even though my eyes were still too sleep-filled to focus.

‘
Jimmy?
What on earth are you doing here?’

But he never answered my question, turning instead to a person I had just noticed was standing slightly behind him. The short, middle-aged stranger looked from me to Jimmy, before asking hesitantly: ‘Is everything all right, officer?’

I struggled to my feet, rubbing my eyes as though this were all a crazy dream I could brush away with the movement. I lowered my hands. No, they were both still here.

Jimmy, with a firmly guiding hand, was leading the man back out through the flat to the front door, thanking him all the time for his cooperation.

The man allowed himself to be led away, looking both awed and a touch disappointed at being so speedily written out of a potential drama.

‘If you need me to make a statement or anything…’ His voice trailed off.

‘That won’t be necessary at this time, sir. But I’m extremely grateful to you once again for your assistance.’

I waited until Jimmy had shut the door behind the man and walked slowly into the living room. I said nothing as I watched him return his police ID to his jacket pocket, but the inclination of my head and raised eyebrows said it all.

He looked vaguely embarrassed, but not entirely repentant.

‘Is that even legal?’

‘Is
what
even legal?’

‘Using your ID to break into someone’s private accommodation?’

His eyes met mine but I couldn’t read his expression.

‘I didn’t break in,’ he corrected, ‘I got the supervisor to open your door.’

‘By telling him what, exactly? That I’m an international terrorist? A dangerous bank robber? An escaped lunatic?’

He look chagrined at the last of my suggestions, before covering the distance between us in two short strides and answering in a low voice. ‘That no one could reach you… That you’d had a recent trauma and then some very bad news. And that you might be… hurt.’

His arms came around me then, and I felt the tremor in his strong hold as he pulled me against him. I saw it all then, through different eyes than mine: understanding why concern had flared so quickly into panic.

‘I take it you’ve spoken to my dad?’ I asked into his shirt-front where my face was still pressed.

‘I did.’

‘Didn’t he tell you I just wanted to stay up here to clear up the flat? That I was coming home tomorrow?’

He sighed deeply, and his voice sounded a little hoarse when he replied. ‘I just needed to speak to you. To check you were OK. And then, when I tried – God knows how many times – to get through to you on your phone…’

‘I’ve been ignoring it. I thought it was Matt.’

He leaned back from me then and studied my face, as though trying to see what it had cost me to speak his name.

Clearly my features were unfathomable, for he questioned haltingly, ‘Your dad did mention something about that: that you’d had a disagreement.’

I gave a small wry laugh that held very little actual humour. ‘Yeah, you could call it that. He thought it was all right to be having sex with Cathy in his flat today, and strangely I disagreed.’

A fleet of emotions crossed Jimmy’s face, too swiftly for me to differentiate one from the other, but I thought I’d glimpsed barely restrained fury as well as something much more gentle and hopeful.

‘Your dad never said that!’

‘He got the edited version.’

Taking hold of my hand, Jimmy gently led me over to the settee and settled himself beside me. I thought about taking back my hand but he seemed in no hurry to relinquish it, so I left it encased in his own.

‘Tell me all about it,’ he urged. His voice was soft and encouraging, once again my confidant and friend, but there was something in his eyes, something I scarcely recognised, that was having a disturbing effect on my pulse.

He stayed completely silent as I recounted my entire day: from the doctor’s appointment, to the discovery of Matt’s betrayal. He was so motionless as I spoke, I had to watch his face extremely closely to glean even a hint of a reaction to my words. The tightening of his jaw when I reached the part when I walked in on Matt and Cathy was the only indication of a fury I knew he was struggling to hold in check.

When at last I was finished, he turned my hand over within his, seeming to take a good deal of time to select exactly the right words.

‘I’m so sorry, Rachel; sorry he did that to you. Sorry he’s hurt you like this. I know how much you… love… him. But you deserve so much better than that.’

His face was very close to mine, merely inches apart. I raised my eyes, hoping he could read in them all that I hadn’t been able to say. I saw his head begin to lower, and my lips parted as I half closed my eyes in anticipation. They flew open again moments later as he leant in and gently grazed my forehead with the lightest of kisses.

He got smoothly to his feet then, the atmosphere changing as abruptly as though a switch had been pulled. Not meeting my gaze, which I knew must still be registering confusion, he made a deliberate show of consulting his watch.

‘Look, it’s getting fairly late. Why don’t I go and get us a takeaway or something? I’m sure you’ve not eaten all day, have you?’

I shook my head, not entirely trusting that I’d be able to keep what I was feeling from my voice.

‘OK, I’ll go and get us something to eat. I won’t be long.’

His departure was so overly hasty it was almost comical. How many more times was I going to misread the signals, and have to watch him all but run from me, before I accepted that whatever feelings I had buried deep inside for him should be allowed to rest in peace? There clearly was no chance at all of them ever being reciprocated.

It didn’t take him very long to find a nearby takeaway, and I’d only just finished washing some of the grime of packing from my face and hands before he returned, heavily laden with numerous cartons of Chinese food and two bottles of wine.

‘Are we expecting company?’ I asked, eyeing the array of fragrant containers he was busily opening on the coffee table.

‘Let’s hope not,’ he replied darkly, and it didn’t take a genius to work out who he thought might be planning on joining us. I didn’t think that was even remotely likely; feeling sure Matt would realise that turning up at my door that night was not exactly in his best interests. However, the thought of what might happen between the two men if Matt
were
foolish enough to put in an appearance made me shudder involuntarily.

I was actually surprisingly hungry and managed to do reasonable justice to our impromptu dinner. As I battled on determinedly, chasing the last morsel from a container with a pair of chopsticks, I noticed Jimmy regarding my healthy appetite with poorly concealed approval.

‘You don’t have to do that, you know.’

‘Do what?’ he asked, clearly unaware that I’d caught him watching me.

‘Check up on me. Make sure I’m all right all the time. That I’m not about to pine away, or starve myself to death, or do anything… stupid… in a fit of depression.’

‘I don’t do any of that,’ he denied, his voice full of bluster, which didn’t fool me at all. I had, after all, known this man for a long long time.

‘So what was that all about earlier on tonight, when you came storming in here?’

He met my eyes, but didn’t reply.

‘I don’t need another parent looking out for me, you know,’ I declared. I was in danger of sounding ungrateful here, but I still needed to be certain he understood. ‘It’s not your job to keep rescuing me.’

His eyes were unreadable, but he finally answered quietly. ‘I know that. It’s just I feel…’ His voice trailed away intriguingly.

‘Yes?’ I prompted softly.

‘I feel… partly responsible for what’s happened to you and Matt.’

That was definitely
not
what I’d either been expecting – or hoping – to hear.

‘How on
earth
do you figure that out?’

He sighed deeply and sat down in the armchair opposite me, putting the large expanse of coffee table between us.

‘Matt and I have never really got on that well…’

‘That’s hardly breaking news.’

He ignored my sarcasm and continued. ‘And I guess in the weeks since your attack, you and I have spent quite a bit of time together. I’ve certainly seen more of you than Matt has.’

An unbidden image flashed up at his unintentional double-entendre; an image I quickly rammed to the back of my mind.

‘So that can’t have helped the situation between you two.’

I started to interrupt then, but he put up a hand to stall me.

‘And what happened today, at his place… I guess I must take some responsibility for that too.’

I stared at him incredulously. ‘Not unless you paid Cathy to take her clothes off and climb into bed with someone else’s fiancé, you don’t!’

He ran his hands through his hair, clearly exasperated by something I was failing to grasp. ‘God, Rachel. Don’t be so glib. Don’t you think that at least some of the reason he did that today was in retaliation for what nearly happened between us?’

I felt like I’d just been kicked, very hard, in the stomach.

‘What? Do you think I told him about that? Just dropped it casually into the conversation? Why would you think I’d do that?’

He searched my face for an answer, surely able to read the feelings I didn’t have the courage to voice. But whatever he saw did not elicit the kind of reaction I’d been hoping for, as there was a tightness and control to his tone when he finally replied. ‘No reason. No reason at all.’

We cleared away in silence then, each lost in our own thoughts. After waiting so long for him to finally acknowledge our interlude at the hotel, I now wished the subject had never been raised at all. It was obvious to me that Jimmy deeply regretted the whole incident and apparently assumed I felt the same way. The weight of the day and all its many revelations was suddenly too much to cope with, and I wasn’t feigning my over-exaggerated yawn when I announced, ‘I’m feeling pretty exhausted, so I’m going to turn in now. Are you sure you’ll be all right on the couch with those blankets?’