TouchStone for ever (The Story of Us Trilogy) (37 page)

His eyes meet mine.
“You will continue on your fateful path and continue to love and live the life
you imagined …”

My body sags. I was
fearful of his prediction but now I’m elated …

“… for several years
at least. You will not be able to give Ayden a child and his dream of having a
family will not be fulfilled.”

No!

“You will grow apart.
After five years he will begin to spend more time at the office; he will work
late, have an affair – or two - and you will begin to drink.” He faces me
squarely. “Champagne mostly. You’ll start to lose your looks and your beauty
will fade. He will not see you the same way he does now.”

I fall back into the
sofa. Feeling utterly desolate I close my eyes, allowing my head to fall, with
neither the strength nor desire to lift it from its penitent position.

He continues to
chronicle my life, recounting it like one might a Victorian novel. “When you
are thirty five your husband will demand a divorce. You will become a wealthy
woman but your nights will be spent alone.” He pauses, no doubt giving me time
to absorb his poisonous prediction. “Your husband will return to his previous
lifestyle and you will be able to follow it in the news, in magazines and on
the TV but you will be on the outside looking in.”

I raise my head and
fix him with a scornful stare. “Are you finished?”

“Not quite.” Taking
his time he folds his hands on his thighs, glances about the room and resumes
his tortuous prophecy. “Several bad business decisions and a technical flaw
will bring about a fall in share price for ASMI and several millions of pounds
in revenue will be lost as a result. With returns on investment floundering,
units will be sold to reduce company debts. A cost saving initiative will be
introduced, resulting in the closing of Far Eastern units and …”

I’m holding up my
hands. “Enough! Why are you telling me all this? I don’t care whether my
husband has two hundred or two million pounds in the bank. That’s never
mattered to me.”

“But it has mattered
to him,” he states, plainly. “As his business loses favour so does he. Three
days before his forty second birthday he is found beaten and robbed outside a
London night club.”

All I can do is shake
my head. “You’re a liar. That’s not how this story ends. This is some elaborate
creation you’re concocting to make me feel as if I have no choice but to be
with you. You’re suggesting my staying with Ayden would lead to his downfall
and his death.” I snatch my bag from the sofa. “Why would you say such terrible
things?”

He shrugs his
shoulders. “Because that’s what I see.”

“You have it all
wrong. All you see is what
you
want to see. You want us to fail.” I will
not allow him to see me cry. I have shed enough tears to fill an ocean. No
more.

“You act as if love
is a kind of condition; something for which there is no cure. Love is not that.
Love is that which remains once you realise you could not love another person
more; so deeply, sincerely and unconditionally. That’s what love is. That’s
what we have.“  I sniff and raise my chin boldly. “When I look in your direction
I’m drawn to you because you have the face of an angel, but you’re not Ayden.”
I stand, pulling down my sweater and, for the first time, tower over him. “You
can’t scare me with talk of divorce and death. All that does is remind me of
how desperate you are; that someone of such high-standing would stoop so low to
get what he knows is not his to steal.” I launch my final assault through a
single thought, using words from Ms. Bronte’s I know he will recognise and
understand.

Your presence is a
moral poison that would contaminate the most virtuous.

Not stopping to hear
more he stands and regains some of his status through his height. Through eyes
swamped in tears I witness him in his sorrowful subterfuge and read it as a
sign.  I approach him, take his face in my trembling hands, close my eyes and
taste his lips. Overcome by drowsiness I open my eyes languidly to be greeted
by glossy, sea green eyes.

“I love you,” he
murmurs.

Through swollen lips
I force a smile and whisper adoringly, “I love you more.”

The garage door jerks
into motion. In ten long seconds it creates a crack wide enough for a
boisterous Boxster to slip through.

After heading west
for fifteen minutes I indicate and join the M4 when, without warning, the radio
begins to play. I know the song and understand the message. Christina Perri is
singing
A Thousand Years.
Regardless of which button I press it
continues to play until the final orchestral note, every chord ripping at my
heartstrings.

With open road ahead,
I put my foot down and cruise at 80 miles an hour, flicking through lanes and
overtaking with ease.  It’s ironic how reassuring it feels to be encapsulated
in this sweet little car after the confinement of my Belgravia home. This
cockpit is womblike, the air thick with memories and Ayden’s cologne.

As the plummeting
darkness swallows up the rural landscape I’m sniffing back tears, pressing
buttons in search of headlights and wipers to clear away noisy raindrops that
are rattling against the glass like bullets. Every new volley is a reminder of
the battle raging in my mind and the conflicting emotions I’m harbouring.

The motorway
stretches out before me, a road leading me nowhere punctuated by the soundtrack
to our love affair.
The story of us
plays out one song at a time. I fast
forward to transatlantic tunes that closed the miles between us.

One after another the
tracks play out, bringing with them a heart-breaking series of flashbacks.
Every song sparks a memory, every memory fuels more tears until the cars in
front are no more than smudges on the windscreen.  J-Lo reminds me of a time
when I was eating cereal and thinking
I’m into you,
Hoobastank explains
The
Reason
for your devotion. We’re
Feeling Good
and dancing on our
terrace in Rome thanks to Michael Bublé. And it’s all too much.

I search for less
meaningful songs but there are none; each recollection of images leaves me with
only one conclusion:
You’re all I have.

I turn off Stone
Patrol and search for something less emotionally charged on the radio. Florence
Welsh sings about
Sweet Nothings
and I mouth the words! She reaches the
chorus. I’m hitting the accelerator. I’m gripping the wheel as if my life
depends on it. The world on all sides is a blur. I turn up the volume, feeling
every word as if they are my own. Like a proclamation to God Almighty they
voice my utter desolation, and bring me closer to the ultimate sacrifice; to do
the hardest thing I will ever have to do: to forfeit my life for the sake of
another. To atone for my sins I prepare to give my soul and all that I am:
everything.

The music builds to a
resounding crescendo. I fortify myself with a deep breath that might well be my
last, and hit the accelerator. Glancing down I watch the dial edge past 100.
Only when I raise my eyes to the open road do I spot the approaching neon sign
above the motorway flashing wildly with an unequivocal command.

STOP BETH! STOP BETH!
STOP BETH!

I can’t believe my
eyes. Even now he tries to intervene, to decide my fate - but I will not be
manipulated a moment longer. This is my decision to make.

Once again above my
head the sign reads:

BETH! SLOW DOWN!

Defiantly, I increase
my speed. Out of the corner of my eyes I see a single blinding light coming up
behind me; it’s filling my rear view mirror. I’m being pursued.

Death is seeking me
out, but I won’t be caught so easily. With all hope lost, I apply more pressure
to the accelerator and watch the finger move on the speedometer past 120. Other
cars appear to be parked as I fly past them on the outside lane like a shooting
star. Through a voice strangled by tears I call out, “Everything I’ve done,
I’ve done for love, Ayden. Please forgive me.”

Unexpectedly, the
rain clears from the windscreen; I see an opening in the grey curtain of clouds
obscuring the horizon; and the dial begins to wind backwards like the hands on
a clock turning back time. Even though the accelerator pedal is flat against
the floor, I’m slowing down. Fearful of being caught I check my rear view
mirror but all I see are paired headlights .

In a blind panic I
have travelled 40 miles from home, crossing junctions and flyovers with no
destination in mind. I have no idea where I am.

I signal and pull
over onto the hard shoulder to park up. My nerves are frayed; my emotions are
swirling. Like a drowning woman having made it back to shore, I gasp for air
and wipe the salt water from my eyes.

Overcome with
fatigue, I slump back in the seat and feel myself dozing, rocked to sleep by
the jerking movement of turbulent air created by passing cars. A mechanised
lullaby lulls me into a false sense of security and, before I fade into
oblivion, I hear Ayden’s thoughts in my head.

It’s time to say
goodbye, my darling. You have taught me so much in the brief time we have spent
together. I have learned, first hand, the true meaning of self-sacrifice and
there is no purer form of love than this in heaven and earth.  Yours, for ever.
Your dark prince.

I’m
stirred from my unconscious state by a recurring sound; it’s mechanical, not
human, more like a beep than a bang, but rhythmic - almost like the beating of
a heart. I’m leaning forward; my head is resting on my left forearm.

With my eyes closed
I’m willing myself to go back to sleep, having realised the noise I can hear is
a heart monitor. I’m alive. The finer points of the deal I made with my
paramour come back to haunt me.

If I’m alive, Ayden
is dead.

That realisation
causes my body to sag; treacherous tears roll onto my arms like a bleeding
heart, and I weep for the love I have lost and for the loneliness I must
endure. I will pay the price for my adultery in the days and months and years I
will spend mourning my loss.

How will I survive
this?

Now my imagination is
playing tricks on me. I feel someone stroking my hair, but still fearful, I
close my eyes tightly, shutting out light, willing the fantasy to be real but
terrified it’s not. I say a silent prayer and raising my head. Repeating over
and over; please let it be a dream. Please let it be a dream. Please …

I raise my head and
turn to my left, slowly, and what I see causes me to gasp so deeply I catch my
breath. I take Ayden’s hand from my hair and hold it to my lips, christening it
with my tears. I have to remind myself to take a breath.

“You’re alive!”

He wipes away my
tears with his thumb. “I think so.” He winks and I cry harder. “Don’t cry. I’m
all right. I was only sleeping.” His smile forms slowly, his eyes glisten with
love and I reach out to l him.

“Careful, you don’t
want to hurt yourself.” He points to a box of tissues on the bedside cabinet.
“Dry your tears, Beth. It kills me to see you like this.”

I grab a couple of
tissues and blow my nose noisily. My unladylike behaviour causes him to raise a
brow. Feeling facial pain, he reaches for his cheek and touches the pad
concealing an injury likely to cause a scar.

“Don’t worry about
that. It’s nothing,” I reassure him, standing to pass him a glass of water.
“Here, you must be thirsty.”

He sips it slowly and
hands me back the glass. “I had the weirdest dream.”

I respond without
thinking. “Me too.”

“I was in this room
waiting for you. Every time you were nearby I would call to you but you didn’t
hear me, and I couldn’t make myself heard. It was like I was half asleep. I
must have been waiting for you to wake me with a kiss,” He smiles broadly,
forcing the skin to crinkle around his eyes; it folds into tiny creases like
lifelines marking his reawakening.

I reach out with a
hand, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body. “I can do that.”
Dragging the line from the intravenous drip with me I stand and position both
of my trembling hands around his face as a mother would a small child; I close
my eyes and place a soft kiss upon his lips. When I open them, all I can see is
an ocean of love; a Caribbean sea with splashes of emerald.

A sob sticks in my
throat. “I’m so sorry I sent you away. I didn’t mean any of those things I
said.”

He cups my face with
both hands. “I know, baby. You were just doing what you always do; putting
me
first.”

“I didn’t want you to
settle for someone who couldn’t give you all you’ve ever wanted.”

He takes a handful of
my hair. “Don’t start that again.
You’re
all I’ve ever wanted.”

Unable to hold back
my tears I let them fall. “I love you so much, Ayden. I thought I’d lost you.”

He sniggers. “Now
that’s just crazy. It would take more than a blind date with Death to take me
away from you.”

My lips quiver. “You
don’t say?”

He raises my chin
with his forefinger. “So, tell me about your dream.” He pats away my residual
tears with a tissue.

I rest my chin on an
upturned palm, only inches from his face. “Oh, I dreamed we were together on
honeymoon. We were in Hong Kong and then we went to the Great Barrier Reef. We
swam in the ocean and spent most of our time counting stars and making love.”

He’s rolling his
eyes. “Sounds to me like you got the better deal. I just couldn’t wake up, but
I felt you were close by.

I’m nodding my head.
“I was.”

He takes hold of my
right hand and holds my palm against his lips. “I felt your presence, Beth. I
might not have ever awakened if I hadn’t.” He caresses my fingers, stopping
only when he sees the ring.

I see it too. As hard
as I try to conceal my horror I cannot. A strangled whimper escapes my mouth
before I have time to mask it. A stunned silence ensues.

Ayden breaks it.
“What’s the matter?” he asks, troubled at my sudden outburst. “Come here. I’m
not going anywhere, Beth.” He pulls my head into his neck. “I didn’t mean to
frighten you.”

Regaining some
strength of mind, I wipe away my tears. “You didn’t. I visualised how different
things might have turned out, that’s all.”

“I think someone was
looking out for me. When Elise took the wheel I had vision of it turning out
badly, but I’ve too much to live for to go like that. I have you.”

I’m smiling and
crying but these are not tears of sadness, fear or regret; they’re tears of
joy.  Somewhere out there in the night sky is a blinding light and in that
light there is goodness and compassion. Now I know the truth. I have been loved
by an angel. I hold onto his hand, fearing he may be snatched away from me
again. “I have you, Ayden. We have the rest of our lives to look forward to but
we have to make things right.”

He’s baffled by my
assertion. “What things?”

“Everything. We need
to get in touch with D.I. Bowker and explain what’s been happening. He has a
good heart …” I release my grip, run my fingers under my eyes and pull myself
together. I have to put my adventure behind me and face each new day with
thankfulness. I stand and straighten his bedding. “But now’s not the time to
talk about that, there will be time enough …”

Unexpectedly, the
door opens behind me. Seeing me standing, Charlie lets out a deafening squeal.
“No …” she rushes to my side. “You shouldn’t be moving around like this.”

I reach for her arm.
“I’m okay. Look who’s awake.”

Having been too
preoccupied with my welfare, she hadn’t bothered to look over at Ayden. When
she sees him she bursts into tears. “You stupid bastard! You had her scared out
of her wits!”

It’s not the response
either of us are expecting and we begin to laugh.

“It’s good to see you
too, Charlie,” he announces. “Will you get the nurse so she can turn off this
damn machine and I can hold my wife?”

Charlie wraps her
arms around my neck. “He’s only been away for five minutes and already he’s
giving bloody orders,” she declares, leaving the room in a hurry. “I’ll be
right back, Mr. Stone.”

I push back the
wheelchair with my foot to make room for the nurse.

Ayden notices. “You
came in a wheelchair?” he asks.  Hadn’t you better sit down?”

Feeling better than I
have for a long, long time I shake my head from left to right. “I feel great.
Don’t worry about me. I’ve had ages to heal. It’s your turn to be
my
patient.”

If only you knew the
immensity of my love. There has never been a day when I haven’t been willing to
lay down my life for you. Now I can sleep at night, knowing you’ll be here when
I open my eyes. No longer a wish or a dream, only you.

Unaware of my
thoughts, he smirks sexily. “I’ll have you know, I can be
very
demanding, Nurse Stone,” he sniggers.

I drop my right hand
by the bed, concealing my precious new ring. “I do hope so, Mr. Stone,” I
state, feeling something maternal stirring inside me. “I plan on being around
for a very long time; for ever in fact.”