Forget Me Not (38 page)

‘Thank you,’ I interrupted.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Exactly that. Thank you for being so honest about the fact that it’s Milly you love.’

‘Of course I love her.’

‘And I’m very happy about that: but shouldn’t this conversation also be about how much you love
me
?’

‘Yes … of course … and … I … do.’

I shook my head. ‘I don’t think that’s true. If it were, you’d have tried to make things work out. You’d have asked me to come with you to Indonesia, or you’d have stayed in London, or you’d have gone out there for a shorter time, instead of which you did an extra two years. You weren’t exactly in a hurry to get back to us, were you?’

‘Well, I was a different person then. If I’d had any idea how devoted I’d become to Milly, I’d …’

‘But that’s exactly my point. It’s
her
you’re devoted to, not me! And I want to live with a man who loves
me
, Xan, not just my child. Patrick’s fond of Milly, but his main interest is in
me
and I find that very attractive.’ Xan didn’t reply. ‘You should go to New York,’ I went on. ‘You’ll be able to get back home quite often, and Milly and I could visit you from time to time. But for the remainder of your stay in London I’d like you to come every other day and leave by eight, so that I can get my life with Patrick back. And as he and I are going to Cornwall next Friday he needs to see a bit of Milly before then. So I’m sorry, Xan, I’ve been as accommodating as I could, but now it’s time for you to take a step back.’

Xan’s eyes were glistening. ‘You’re being incredibly hard, Anna.’

‘I’m not. I’m sorry that you’re upset, but you have no idea how much
I’ve
cried in the last three years – especially when Milly was born. And she can never alter the fact that there are no photos of you proudly holding her in your arms when she was a day old, or cradling her as she was christened, or showing her the lights on her first Christmas tree. You didn’t
meet
her ’til she was nine months old.’

‘But I explained why that was. I was … confused.’

‘At thirty-seven? And until a month ago you’d only seen Milly six times in three years. You’d spent no more than eighteen hours with her in her
entire
life – during most of which she’s had to make do with seeing you on TV!’ I slammed the dishwasher shut. ‘I know you’re making up for it now, Xan, but please, don’t call
me
hard.’

Xan didn’t reply. And I thought how strange it was that having been presented with the thing I’d wanted for so long – to have Xan in my life – I now knew, with sudden, startling clarity, that I no longer desired it.

‘I want stability, Xan,’ I said quietly. ‘Not chaos. I’m not a nomad. I don’t want to be – what was it? – “always packing and unpacking”. I want to put down roots for my child. You and I will always be friends,’ I went on. ‘And we’ll be coparents ’til death do us part. But I don’t want the past. I’d rather have the future, which means that our lives are not going to be intertwined.’

‘The situation was driving me mad,’ I said to Jenny the following afternoon. It had been her birthday the day before and I’d taken her a
Pyracantha
to plant in her garden. ‘I couldn’t stand the pressure from Xan and I hated feeling guilty about Patrick all the time.’

‘Life will be clearer now,’ she said as she pushed on the french windows. ‘I think you’ve done the right thing.’

‘I hope so; I suddenly realised how much I wanted my life to move on.’

‘Perhaps you were just enjoying living out the fantasy of what might have been with Xan.’

‘I probably was.’ We stepped outside. ‘But he’s still piling on the grief,’ I went on. ‘He phoned me this morning, to say that he’s “very unhappy” about Cornwall, and how does he know that Patrick’s a safe driver? You’re lucky not having these complications.’

‘I don’t feel lucky,’ Jenny said quietly.

‘I think you are. When I first got to know you I couldn’t understand why you’d chosen to be on your own. But after all the stress I’ve had with Xan and Patrick I can see the attraction of a simple, unattached life. I envy you,’ I added.

‘I really don’t think I’m to be envied,’ Jenny said flatly. She was in one of her negative, slightly prickly moods.

‘Yes you are,’ I protested as I put the plant down. ‘You’re attractive, independent and successful. You have a beautiful little girl. Where is Grace, by the way?’

‘She’s with my parents this afternoon. They’ve become quite devoted,’ she added sourly. ‘Anyway thank you for the
Pyracantha
. I love them. But where should it go?’

‘Next to the passion flower?’ I suggested. ‘It won’t matter if they grow into each other; in fact the sky-blue flowers will look lovely with the scarlet berries. I’ll plant it.’

‘You don’t have to do that.’

‘Of course I will – I’ve brought my trowel. Anyway, I like planting things.’

I saw Jenny’s eyes glisten. ‘You know, Anna, you’re a very good friend.’

‘Well, so are you to me. You’ve helped me a lot Jen.’ I picked up her watering can so that I could soak the ground before planting. The heatwave had dried it to the texture of brick.

‘I just wish I could help myself,’ she muttered.

‘What’s up, Jenny? You seem a bit down today.’

‘I am a bit,’ she whispered.

‘Can I help?’

‘I don’t think so,’ she replied as I knelt down and turned the earth over. ‘I’m rather struggling with something at the moment.’ I twisted the plant out of its pot then tweaked the roots. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ I asked as I dug away. Jenny didn’t reply. So I put the plant in then scraped back the soil. She wasn’t going to tell me and that was fine. She was a very private person.

‘It’s … about Grace,’ I heard her say. And I thought that Jenny was going to tell me that Grace was having tantrums, or refusing to go to bed at the right time or put her toys away, though I found this hard to imagine as she’s a sweet, co-operative little girl. ‘She … keeps asking me about her father.’

I felt goosebumps stipple my arms at this unprompted reference to Jenny’s ex. ‘Well … it must be difficult for her,’ I ventured as I pressed down the earth with my fingertips. I stood up then washed my hands at the tap.

‘Yes. It’s very difficult,’ she agreed as we went back inside. She handed me a towel. ‘Up until now I’ve told her that her dad’s not around, so we can’t see him – and she’s accepted that. But lately, seeing her friends playing with
their
dads on playdates, or in the park – like she’s seen Milly and Xan doing recently – has made Grace ask why she can’t see her dad, and where he is.’ Jenny’s eyes were suddenly shimmering. ‘And I just don’t know
what
to say. Even though I’ve had this coming for almost four years now.’

‘Well … is there any chance you’d change your mind about having no contact with him?’

‘No,’ she replied quietly. She sank onto the sofa, while I pulled up a chair at the dining table. ‘He’s not in our lives, Anna, and never will be.’

‘He’s not … dead, is he, Jenny?’

She shook her head. ‘If that were the case, I’d have told her.’

‘Does he live abroad?’

‘I wish he did. But he’s in London. At least he was the last time I heard.’

‘So … couldn’t you see him, then? However much you hate the idea, wouldn’t it be better if there could at least be occasional contact?’

‘I don’t think so. Not in our situation. It’s out of the question.’

‘But – sorry, Jenny – why not? Is he married? Is that it?’

‘No. He’s not married.’ She took a deep breath, then clasped her hands as if in prayer. ‘He’s in prison.’

‘In
prison
?’ I wondered what he’d done. Perhaps it was fraud, or embezzlement, or some white-collar crime of that kind. ‘Was what he did serious?’

‘Yes,’ she said blankly. ‘It was.’ There was silence, then she looked out of the window. ‘It was assault.’

As I flinched at the word, possible scenarios scrambled for space in my mind. Perhaps he’d got in a fight in a pub, or hit someone in a fit of road rage, or maybe he’d been at a demonstration and things had turned nasty and he’d thumped someone. ‘Who did he … ?’ I murmured.

‘A woman,’ Jenny replied. She was gazing into the middle distance as if in a dream. ‘He assaulted a woman.’

‘My God …’ I breathed. ‘But …
why
?’

‘It was a sexual assault,’ she replied. ‘In fact, it was rape.’

I stared at her, astounded. The thought that Jenny’s ex had raped someone was too awful. No wonder she wanted nothing to do with him. She must feel so … ashamed. ‘So, did he … know this woman?’

She looked out of the window. ‘No,’ she said flatly. ‘They’d never met. He was a complete stranger to her.’

‘My God … And did you have any idea that he was capable of such a thing?’

‘No.’ She shrugged. ‘I didn’t. It … came from nowhere.’

‘So how did they catch him?’

‘Through DNA – and the evidence I provided.’

‘You testified against him?’

‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘I had to.’ Her eyes were brimming with tears.

I passed her a tissue. ‘What an ordeal.’

‘It was.’

‘And this poor woman – his victim – did you know her?’

‘Oh yes,’ she said bitterly. ‘I did know her.’ A tear spilled down her face. ‘I
do
know her.’ She emitted a tiny sob. ‘Because the thing is that woman was
me
.’

My heart stopped beating. Then started again. Jenny pressed the tissue to her eyes.

‘I’d always been so careful,’ she wept. ‘I never went anywhere alone at night; I never talked to men I didn’t know, or accepted drinks from them. I never went to dodgy places or walked down deserted alleyways. I always took cabs after dark, or if I wasn’t sure of my way …’ I heard her swallow.

‘When did it happen?’ I asked gently.

‘In 2003. I’d been to a party.’ Jenny sat back and looked straight ahead into the garden, her hands clasped lightly in her lap. ‘It was in Willesden and was given by colleague of mine at the school where I worked. It had been a very nice evening. And I’d booked a cab to pick me up – the car was from the minicab firm that I always used. And at about 11.30 I got the usual call on my mobile to tell me that the driver was there, and that the car was a black BMW. So I said my goodbyes and left. I walked down the steps of the house, I’d had a bit to drink; not much – maybe three glasses – but enough for me to feel relaxed. And I saw this black BMW waiting there, with its indicators on, to the left of the house, outside an off-licence. So I went up to it and looked in, and the driver, who was taking the cellophane off a pack of cigarettes, lowered the window. And I said, “Are you taking me home?”

‘I realised, even as the words came out of my mouth, that that wasn’t quite what I’d meant to say; so I immediately corrected myself. “Are you my minicab? For Reid? Hesketh Gardens?” The guy nodded, then he repeated “Hesketh Gardens”. So I got in and we drove off. My first impression was that it was a nice car – leather seats and all that – and the driver had a pleasant, friendly manner. I’d asked him not to smoke, so he’d put the cigarettes away. I was tired, so I closed my eyes.’ She closed them now and put her head back then opened them again with a sigh. ‘I must have dozed off for a minute, because when I opened them I realised that we hadn’t headed south towards Shepherd’s Bush, as we should have done, but were going north-east past Hampstead Heath.’ Her hands were clasped more tightly now, her back a little straighter. ‘So I told the driver that he’d made a mistake. But he didn’t reply.’

‘How terrifying.’

She inhaled, slowly and deeply. ‘At first I was furious, rather than afraid, because I thought that he didn’t actually know where Shepherd’s Bush was. So I told him to turn the car round. But he didn’t. So I said, “We’re going the wrong way. This is not the way!” But he looked at me in his driving mirror and he just said, very calmly, “Relax, lady.” And then I realised.’

‘My God …’

‘So I got out my phone and began to punch in 999, but he twisted round and managed to grab it. So I pulled on the door handle but it was locked, as were the windows. I was hysterical by now. So I tried to attract the attention of other cars by banging on the glass and shouting, but they didn’t seem to notice. So then I took off my shoe and started hitting him with it, but he suddenly turned off the main road into a side street, then right again into a small turning near a canal. We were in an industrial mews. It was deserted and in complete darkness …’ Jenny was sitting bolt upright now, her hands clasped so tightly that her knuckles were white. ‘Then he parked the car and got out. He came round to my side and unlocked the door. I thought that I’d run away, and if I couldn’t do that I’d knee him in the balls, or stab him in the face with my pen. But then he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled something out. I saw it glimmer in the darkness.’ Her eyes had filled. ‘Then he held it to my throat …’ Her chin was puckered with distress. ‘So I begged him not to hurt me.’

‘Oh
Jenny
.’

A sob escaped her. ‘And all the time, I kept thinking how nice I thought he’d looked. How kind. How
angelic
, almost … Then it was over and he was pulling me out of the car, and I was shaking and crying. And then …’ She looked at me, her eyes red with weeping. ‘He put his arm round me. Just for a moment. It was so strange,’ she added. ‘That brief tenderness after such brutality. Then he started the engine and drove away. But as he pulled out of the mews I caught a glimpse of his number plate. I kept saying the number to myself, over and over. I can still remember it four years later.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘I’ll remember it for the rest of my life.’

‘Did someone find you?’ I whispered. ‘Help you?’

‘There was no one around. He’d got my mobile, but I staggered to a phone box and dialled 999. Then came the police questioning, the statements, the medical investigations and the hospital tests … all negative, thank God, but waiting for the results did my head in – especially the HIV tests as those take three months. But I was in such a terrible state I barely left my flat all that time. I’d stopped work because I knew I wouldn’t be able to cope psychologically with school – especially with the aggro I often got from some of those kids. I knew it would freak me out.’