Behind A Twisted Smile (Dark Minds Book 2) (15 page)

Martyn glanced from Evie to me and back again.

He suddenly gasped. “Evie, darling. Oh, my God! You didn’t know? I assumed since you and Michael divorced you didn’t care…oh, sweetheart! If only I’d realised, I’d never have said anything. Nothing at all…oh Evie…”

His voice trailed away and the silence around us intensified. How could I get Evie to believe me now? It was all made up, a complete fabrication. Of course, Michael and I had flirted, and once he kissed me with far too much passion than he should have with a young, impressionable sister-in-law. Shocked at the time, I had pushed him away, and it never happened again. But I swear I never encouraged him, and I certainly never slept with him.

Evie stared at me with pure venom in her eyes. “You slut. You’ll stop at nothing to take what’s mine. I never want to speak or see you again. Get out!”

Chapter 19

I don’t remember driving home. I suppose I did so on auto-pilot. All I knew was I had to get out of that house, away from Martyn’s twisted smile—that cunning and vile smile of his that cut me to the quick.

Once inside, I bolted the door behind me and rushed into the kitchen. By now, tears were streaming down my face, and my hands were shaking with anger and shock. I threw myself down at the table and, for the first time in years, had a good old howl.

Sniffing and wiping my snotty nose with a soggy tissue, I attempted to get a grip. The room was warm, but I felt cold to the bone. I had a nasty taste in my mouth from the coffee and wondered if I was about to throw up. I filled a glass with water, my hands trembling so much I could hardly hold it. I sat back down. I sipped the water and stared at the kitchen window of my home. Except, it no longer felt like my home. Not since Martyn had trespassed into my life, my haven. Oh, of course I had no proof, but I
knew
.

I couldn’t believe how Martyn had twisted and embellished the part in my novel: where I talked about Evie and Michael. Yes, we kissed, but I was immediately ashamed. I hadn’t been that much of a fool. I guessed what Michael was angling after, and I made certain he was aware of my feelings by pushing him away. That was all.

I had certainly never mentioned the episode to Evie, even after she and Michael divorced. Why upset her even more? I was careful to change names in my novel, but Martyn was obviously devious enough to guess who the characters were and saw a chance to make up a nasty little story.

I liked Michael up until that point, and occasionally the thought did cross my mind, what if? What if I had let him kiss and caress me? I knew in my heart it would have been wrong, and I thanked my lucky stars I didn’t give in. I would have been the worst of sisters.

But what about now? What should I have done? What
could
I have done?

I stood up and wandered over to the window. Clouds scudded across a steel-grey sky. I felt alone, unloved and disbelieved. None of the family understood me or was prepared to listen. As for Faye, she blew hot and cold, and although Jon said he understood, our relationship was still relatively new.

For the first time, I contemplated moving away…running away. I was fed up having to deal with something I hadn’t instigated. But could I uproot myself and start all over again? Find another town to live in, buy a property, and start afresh with my business?

***

I must have dozed off because I was jolted out of my thoughts by my phone ringing. My incensed mother was at the other end.

“I can’t believe what I’ve just been hearing,” she uttered in a voice so tight I could imagine the look of thunder on her face. “Whatever possessed you?”

“Mum, it’s all lies. You can believe Martyn or me. Your
daughter
. But I swear I never did—”

She never let me finish. “Don’t, Moya. Just don’t. I—we—have all bent over backwards to be nice and understanding. Everyone loses a boyfriend once in a while. You’ve just been lucky, spoilt even. You’ve had your pick of men. And now, for the first time you’ve been on the receiving end of being ditched you go off into histrionics. Martyn is
no
longer
your
property. He belongs to Evie. They’re engaged and getting married…very soon as it happens. I can’t imagine them even inviting you to the wedding. You’ve ruined everything completely. I still can’t believe a daughter of mine could stoop so low with…with—oh! Words fail me. Don’t bother coming round on Sunday because you’re not welcome at the moment.”

She slammed the phone down. How long I sat there in the gathering gloom I can’t say. I thought about ringing her back but knew that, in her state, nothing I said would make her see or listen. All I knew was I felt numb and hollow inside. Everyone hated me.

I wanted to be liked. I loved my family, down to their every annoying trait. Families were…just that…families, kin.

I had to have one last try with Evie, make amends. Otherwise, knowing how thick-skinned she was, we would never speak to each other again.

After fortifying myself with a glass of red wine, I plucked up courage and rang Evie’s mobile. Of course, I should have known. Martyn answered. Everything went out of kilter and my heart plummeted. It was pointless putting the phone down, much as I would have liked, as he would have seen who was calling on the screen, anyway.

His voice was soft, gentle, cajoling even. “How are you now, Moya? Calmed down?”

“Don’t talk bollocks. Is Evie there?”

“Tut, tut! Not the language a lady would use, but then you’re not, are you? I’m sorry you felt you had to bring all that nastiness up, Moya. It must have been uncomfortable for you.”

“You’re a pig. You twist everything. You know full well it wasn’t my fault. You lied!” I just couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I waited, heart pounding, for his comeback.

“Moya, honeybun,” his voice took on a treacly tone, “You brought it on yourself. It wasn’t my doing. I didn’t fuck Evie’s husband.”

I gasped over his audacity to lie. “You opened my laptop, read my novel. You trespassed on everything I possess! Then you lie about a mere kiss, which was forced on me. I never told you anything. You
pried
where you had no right to.”

He actually chuckled. “It hardly a concern now, is it? Anyway, your little secret is now out for everyone to know. I wonder what sweet, luscious, little Darcy thinks about her big sister now, eh? She must be about the same age as you were back then. I know she creams her knickers just thinking about being fucked.”

I went cold, then hot and sweaty. I nearly dropped the phone. “If you so much as breath a word to Darcy about this or touch a hair on her head, I’ll…I’ll—” I couldn’t finish.

I felt sick. I wondered just how insane he really was. Was I imagining things, or was he as loopy as I thought? With cold clarity, I considered my own position. If I persisted, then my family would think it was I who was the crazy one. Martyn was clever, with his charming and ingratiating manner. His slime had oozed its way into everyone’s heart except mine.

“My word! There you go again, Moya. You’re always accusing innocent people of crimes without anything to back you up. You really ought to watch yourself. Besides, Darcy is by no means an innocent sweet kid, you know. Girls grow up quickly these days.” He laughed, and it felt as if my blood was curdling in my veins. He carried on. “One day, she really surpassed herself…”

I couldn’t listen to this garbage. “Is she there? Evie?”

“No.”

“Why hasn’t she got her mobile with her? Where is she?” I heard the panic rise in my voice and took a deep breath to control myself.

“She’s having a lie down, although that’s none of your business. She’s quite overcome by everything. I think you really overdid it this time, Moya. I truly doubt she’ll ever speak to you again. She thinks you’ve flipped.”

“Get her to call me.” With my hands shaking like mad, I put my phone down before I said anything else I’d regret later.

I made up my mind. I would sell my flat and move away. People wanted holistic-treatment and physiotherapists all over the world. Maybe it was time for me to take my destiny in both hands, walk away and start living again. Sod the lot of them. They didn’t believe their own daughter or sister, so why should I keep banging my head against a brick wall?

Life was too short.

Chapter 20

The next few weeks passed more uneventfully, and relieved, I kept my head down. I stayed away from my ‘loving’ family and instead saw more of my friends. Jon and I picked up where we left off before my holiday to Antigua, and it was as if I hadn’t been away. Our rapport was exciting, still moving in a positive direction, but I was careful to tread carefully and take it slowly. Things had been going horribly awry, and I wasn’t prepared to jeopardise our relationship. It was too early to make plans; besides, wasn’t I thinking about moving away? Perhaps if I did, we could still have a relationship. Thousands of couples saw each other at weekends only. Maybe distance made relationships more exciting, more challenging.

My workplace looked smart with the renovations, and the new paintwork gleamed. I enjoyed working there, but like my flat, I felt the place had become tainted since Martyn’s arrival. It was as if everything he touched became contaminated.

My mind made up, I contacted a small estate agent and arranged for someone to come round and value my flat for the market. I knew pre-Christmas wasn’t the best of times to sell property, but I was desperate. I wanted out of there fast. One bright light was that my flat was worth far more than I anticipated. So long as I was careful and didn’t overstretch my budget, I could afford something bigger, perhaps with a nicer garden.

That evening, Jon and I were going to a party with Faye and Simon. The hosts were a couple Faye and I knew well, and usually, their bashes were the talk of the season. Their house stood in its own grounds in a road of about a dozen differently designed residencies.

Jackie, our hostess, opened the door upon our arrival and showed us where to leave our coats. Jackie used to be a photographic model in her late teens and early twenties, and it showed in her expensive haircut and blonde locks. Her figure was encased in a tight, wanton, flame-coloured dress, and I noticed both Jon and Simon dart lascivious looks her way.

As she sashayed away towards the sound of music and laughter down the hallway, Faye and I exchanged amused glances. Jackie hadn’t changed in all the years we had known her.

“Hello, darlings! Lovely to see you.” She kissed the air either side of our faces. “Drinks are in the conservatory and food will be served later. You know the routine, help yourselves,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll be with you shortly, once I’ve sorted the caterers out.”

We all walked through to the conservatory and joined a group hanging around the table laden with bottles. I knew a few people, but most were strangers. Jon didn’t know a soul apart from us and said it made the occasion more fun, as we could invent stories about everyone else.

Glancing through the French windows, I could see that despite the cold weather, Jackie and Richard had gone to town again. The garden was a mass of lights; strings of coloured bulbs strung from the house to the surrounding trees, and along the paths, candles glittered in specially designed bags. Someone handed round a dish of assorted nuts and informed us that we were going to be treated to a firework display later in the evening.

“What’s the occasion?” Jon asked.

“I think Jackie just landed a contract with a new make-up company, an offshoot of one of the big boys, I believe. It’s funny when you think of it…here she is, our age and about to begin a new career, modelling make-up for women of a ‘certain age’. I don’t know whether it makes me feel old or what,” Faye answered as she pulled a face before taking a sip from her glass of white wine.

“She still looks gorgeous, and if I didn’t know her real age, I’d say she was in her early to mid-twenties,” I replied. “I think the catering company has finished arranging the food. Shall we go and see what there is to eat? I’m starving.”

Back inside, we passed a large room, normally full of settees and comfy armchairs. This time, it was devoid of most of the furniture, and instead a five-piece band was playing merrily at one end; the rest of the floor was devoted to couples swaying in time to the music. We paused in one of the two doorways.

“A Cuban band! How marvellous,” Jon enthused. “That’s timba they’re playing.”

I frowned. “Timba?”

“Yeah. Timba is a modern and faster-paced version of the Cuban salsa. It’s become the dominant sound in Cuba today.”

“Really? How do you know all this?”

“I’ve been to Cuba a few times. Love it there. Timba draws on African folk dances and rhythms like rumba, but also rap and reggae.”

“I’ve never been but I’d like to go.”

He glanced down at me and smiled. “Then maybe you can. Perhaps we could go together some time.”

His words made me feel confused, edgy and guilty. I hadn’t said a word about selling my home and moving somewhere else, and at the same time, I longed for us to be together. I nodded vaguely. “Seeing as you’re so knowledgeable, what else do they play in Cuba?”

“Apart from the wonderful jazz, of course, there’s
son
, the birth of all Cuban music, salsa, rumba, bolero and nueva trova, a genre which arose after the Cuban revolution in 1959. Havana is an amazing place, you know, and you can hear different music on every street and corner. It’s emotionally charged, throbbing with vocals and drumming, right through to ballads.”