How I Lost You (34 page)

‘I think we all know that isn’t true.’ I’m trying to keep my voice level, not give away the terror that has frozen my legs together. I feel a bead of sweat tickle its way down my spine and into the small of my back. ‘You have my attention now, Jennifer, isn’t that what this is all about? The photograph, Kristy Riley . . . this?’

Both their faces look confused. Good, let them be confused. I’ve been confused for four years.

‘What photograph?’ Jennifer asks at the same time as Mark says, ‘What about Kristy?’

‘Ha.’ My laugh is without the slightest bit of humour. ‘Looks like I’m not the only one who isn’t completely in the picture.’

‘Riley’s dead,’ Jennifer states. ‘Both of them, actually. You thought you were so clever, Billy, helping Matt pull that disappearing act. If only he’d waited patiently for Kristy and the little princesses to join him. Instead he had to have an attack of conscience and try and find me. Jack wasn’t going to let that happen.’

‘Matty’s dead?’ Mark’s face crumples and he closes his eyes in pain. ‘You fucking bitch.’ He opens his eyes and charges towards her.

‘Whoa, boy.’ Jennifer holds up the lighter and flicks the flame, illuminating her face. Mark stops short a foot away from her. ‘What’s one more, eh? Bethany, Kristy, Dylan, they’re all collateral damage. These are the generations, eh? Anything to protect the Brotherhood. Protect your own asses more like. Well not this time. I had your back once upon a time, Mark, but that’s not enough.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me that Matt Riley was your best friend?’ I aim my question at Mark but don’t take my eyes off Jennifer. ‘Why haven’t you ever spoken about him to me?’

Mark shakes his head. ‘Matty and Kristy are from a time I never wanted you to hear about. I never wanted to get caught up in difficult explanations, or have one of us trip up and mention . . . what happened. I just wanted to protect you, Susan.’

‘Aw, bless.’ Jennifer’s voice cuts between us. ‘Maybe there’s more to Mark than meets the eye. For example, does it surprise you to know that he and I were lovers at university?’

‘No.’ It should, but it doesn’t. How did I know that?

‘No, of course not. I told you once already. I knew you’d remember. Bit late, though, Susan.’ She says it the way you’d tell your child they were a bit late for lunch.
What does she mean, she’s told me once?

‘We weren’t lovers,’ Mark spits. ‘I made a stupid mistake, once. The biggest mistake of my life. A mistake that ruined everything.’

Jennifer ignores him as easily as if he hasn’t spoken. ‘She’s going to remember it all soon, Mark. Then she’ll hate you just like I do. I’d say I’m sorry you won’t be around to see it, but I always knew it was coming to this, even if you didn’t. I can finally say I hate you.’

‘Jennifer, please.’ Mark’s voice is a squeak, and I try and beg him with my eyes to stay quiet. Quiet so I can think, quiet so he doesn’t get us killed.

Jennifer pulls a face at me. ‘Seriously, Susan, what did we ever see in this guy? Are you sure
you
don’t want to do this? I don’t think anyone would blame you. Maybe we could even get the police to invoke the double jeopardy law. I know usually it relates to the same crime twice, but an eye for an eye, eh? You’ve already done the time . . .’ She holds the lighter out to me and I hesitate. She’s crazy. She’s actually bat-shit crazy. Does she think I’m going to kill him? Would she let me just take it? She laughs and pulls it away again. I’ve missed my chance. ‘No? I don’t blame you, to be honest. Killing a person, it changes you. Taking a life, well you have to be a real fucked-up individual. Don’t you, Mark?’

Mark groans and puts his hands to his face.

‘OK, back up. Good boy.’ She picks up something from the floor by the fire. Handcuffs; she has come prepared. ‘Put these on, just one arm. That’s it, now over by the wall.’

I can’t even properly see the wall, and when Mark hesitates, she takes two strides forward and grabs him roughly by the arm. She’s no match for him physically, but either she’s stronger than she looks or he’s not putting up any fight, because he starts to move. My foot inches backwards. I’m going to run for it, hopefully get help before she hurts him.

‘Don’t even think about running.’ I don’t know how she’s seen me move through the dark and the layer of smoke. ‘I’ll set this place off before you can take another step, and I’d like to bet this lighter fluid is faster than you. Over here, and make it fast. When lover boy realises where we are, I’ll have more than the pair of you to worry about.’

I realise she’s talking about Nick, but I decide not to tell her how unlikely that scenario is. Nick isn’t coming to rescue me. I pray to God Cassie has received my text and the police are on the way.

Mark looks at me, something like hope entering his eyes.
He believes her
, I realise.
He really thinks we’re going to be rescued
. I can’t believe that he’s driven us down this path and he thinks I’m going to be the one to get us rescued. Well sorry to disappoint you, darling, but I’m a very bad judge of men, remember . . .?

‘Down there.’ Jennifer points to the floor next to the bare breeze blocks of the wall. ‘There’s a pipe. One on you and one on the pipe. There’s another set here for the missus.’

Mark does as he’s told, kneeling down next to the wall, and with a sickening clarity I know exactly what she’s going to do. The smell I noticed when she walked in: not fresh paint. White spirit. She’s going to set the place on fire.

‘I’m not getting down there.’ If I do, we’ll both be trapped in a burning building.

Jennifer’s eyes harden in anger. ‘Get the fuck down.’

‘You must be kidding me. You’ll have to kill me.’

She pinches her lips together and rolls her eyes upwards, sighs impatiently. ‘Fine,’ and before I realise what’s she’s doing, she raises her hand and my head explodes with pain.

58

Mark: 27 November 1992

Four loud blows against the door signalled the arrival of their leader. Mark felt the colour drain from his face and his chest tingle. Was this what a heart attack felt like? The largest boy in the room by a rugby-playing mile, a bulk Mark recognised as Jack Bratbury’s right-hand man Adam Harvey, was at the door in seconds and Mark’s heart felt like lead as he heard it swing open.

The room began to buzz; as always, Jack was not alone.

‘Evening, gents,’ he greeted, his voice bouncing around the warehouse. ‘You’re probably wondering what I’ve got for you here. Not my usual offering, I’ll admit.’

He shoved forward the hunched figure he had been holding up. The girl was clearly out of it and fell to the floor, making no effort to stand. This had never happened before. Usually the girls he arrived with were at the very least lucid; willing participants in Jack’s games, at first anyway. This girl was neither willing nor a participant. Her robe was one of theirs; when she hit the floor, it flew up, uncovering bare skin underneath. Her head was covered with a black hood, but unlike theirs her hood hid her face too.

‘What’s up with her, she a dog?’ one of the boys asked. The others began to snigger; Jack laughed.

‘OK, I admit this was a last-minute plan. Things fell through and I couldn’t let one of my boys leave without a proper send-off, could I?’

The buzz was back. Who was leaving? What was Jack talking about? Mark felt as though his lungs had filled with lead. Did he know?

Relax, he told himself, trying to take deep, unnoticeable breaths. He could be talking about anyone.

Jack stepped over the unconscious girl on the floor, the focus of the room suddenly taken away from her, all eyes on him as he walked over to where Mark was standing, rigid with fear. He clamped a heavy hand on Mark’s shoulder, a little harder than necessary, and leaned in, his lips lingering uncomfortably close to Mark’s ear.

‘Did you think I wouldn’t know? Did you really think I was just going to let you go?’ he hissed. Blood pounded in Mark’s ears; his mouth was too dry to speak. ‘You’re going nowhere,’ Jack continued, louder now. ‘Without a proper send-off!’ The group around them laughed, tension beginning to fizzle.

‘Line up, boys,’ Jack instructed. So they were skipping the pleasantries. ‘You first.’ He handed Mark a small square foil packet and gestured to where the girl lay. ‘Someone get her on the table.’

Mark risked a look at Matty, whose eyes were bolted to the floor. His feet walked him to where the girl had been spread-eagled on the long table, her robe and hood still in place.

‘How am I meant to get turned on when I can’t even see what I’m screwing?’ He tried to sound nonchalant but his voice wavered and cracked.

‘Don’t be so fucking ungrateful,’ Jack spat. ‘Get on with it. The rest of us want our go. Do this and you can go back to your little woman and forget about us. If you don’t – well, Adam’s been waiting to kick the smug look off your face since we were fifteen.’

He wanted so desperately to say no, to tell Jack to go to hell. He wanted to walk out of the warehouse, make the three-mile trek back to Trevelyan, grab Beth and take her as far away from Durham as he could. But he didn’t. He stepped up to the table.

Just one last time. The words sounded hollow even in his own head. He lifted his robe and undid his jeans.

59

There’s a pain in my shoulder where I landed on it when I fell that burns white hot and spreads all the way down to my fingers, and a sudden sharp twinge across the right side of my head. The force of her blow sends me staggering backwards against the wall and my head hits the blocks. Jesus, I’d never have imagined such a petite woman could be so strong, though after meeting Cassie I should have known better. My breath comes in ragged spurts, the wind knocked out of me. I close my eyes and slump downwards.

‘Susan!’ Mark’s voice sounds far away, like he’s shouting through water. My face lands in a puddle of something wet and sharp-smelling – the white spirit. When she lights that fire, I’m going up like a Guy Fawkes display. ‘You’ve killed her!’

‘She’s not dead. Are you, Susan? She’s just in shock.’ Her voice sounds impatient but I can’t answer. My mouth doesn’t work, none of my body works, and I don’t have the energy. I just want to lie here and let my life spill out over the floor.

‘She’s banged her head, look, she’s bleeding! This has gone far enough, Jen, you have to get help. I’ve learned my lesson, I’m sorry for what I did to you, to Beth. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’

I can feel hands on my arm; I’m being dragged across the floor. Maybe I lose consciousness, because when I manage to drag my eyelids halfway open, I’m slumped against the wall next to my ex-husband, my right hand cuffed to a gas pipe.

‘You awake?’ Oh God, she’s still here. I’m still here. Where is Cassie? Where are the police? It feels like we’ve been in this place all night, but it can only be twenty minutes since I first climbed in through the door. ‘Susan? You awake? I want you to hear this.’

‘I’m awake.’ My throat is dry and the words barely make it out. How hard did she hit me? Does she have lead hands? My breath is still ragged and I realise the smoke is thicker now, filling my lungs and chest. No wonder my head feels full of feathers.

‘Ah, good to see you. I didn’t want you to miss this bit. It’s Mark’s final speech. He’s going to try and save his own life; possibly yours too but mainly his own. Please bear in mind that Shakespeare here spent his life being a spineless bastard and this won’t be the first time he’s thrown you under a bus to save himself. Right, Shakes?’

Shakes.

I’ve never heard Mark’s old university nickname, and yet now, coming from her lips, it sounds so familiar, like I knew it all along.

‘You called him that. You called him that when you came to the house. Why were you there, Jennifer? What did you come to tell me? What was so bad I chose to block it out for four whole years?’

‘So now you want to listen?’ She spits the words at me. ‘Now you want me to tell you? You didn’t want to talk before, did you, Susan? When I came to warn you what your husband was like? You
attacked
me.’

An image screams into my head with such clarity it’s as though it happened this morning. I’ve laid Dylan in his Moses basket and pulled a blanket over myself on the sofa when I hear the doorbell ring. I cringe: please God don’t wake the baby. He doesn’t murmur and I pad across the floor to the front door.

‘Can I help you?’ There’s a woman at the door, a frizz of dirty blonde hair and wild brown eyes. She’s looking past me into the hall as soon as I open the door, her cheeks flushed and her eyes red-rimmed and puffy; she may have been crying. How have I not remembered this before? When I saw her at the library?

But you did remember,
a little voice tells me.
Your mind fought so hard against remembering, you had a panic attack rather than have it all come flooding back. Now it’s fight or flight if you want to survive.

‘I shouldn’t have attacked you. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to believe what you were telling me because if it was true it would have ruined my life. My son’s life. I’m sorry.’

Jennifer laughs. ‘You hear that, Mark?
She’s
sorry. Another poor unfortunate soul you charmed into your bed and whose life you ruined and
she’s
apologising! Who’s the one who should be sorry, Mark?’

‘Me.’ The word comes out in a sigh; his head is hanging as though he doesn’t have the strength to lift it to meet my eyes. My vision swims; I’ve lost too much blood. I think I’m going to die and I don’t have the strength to be hysterical. Goose bumps crawl along the arm that isn’t numb and my teeth begin to chatter.

‘Him! He’s the one who screwed his fiancée’s best friend! He’s the one who couldn’t face up to his responsibilities!’

‘Once!’ The word exploded from Mark. ‘One drunken mistake, Jennifer! Is that why you ruined my life? Because I had to be wasted to give you what you’d been after for bloody years?’