Perfectly Obsessed (15 page)

Chapter Fifteen – December 2004

Drake

I could sense her mood was dark and dejected as soon as I walked into the visiting room and saw her tired eyes watching me cross the room to our table. The last two letters I have received from her have been short and swift. I have been waiting anxiously for this visit and I can already tell I’m not going to like what she has to say. She is holding something back, I know it.

She stands and I pull her against my chest. She wraps her arms around my neck and because I memorise every moment of contact with her, I know this embrace is strained and much tenser than normal.

Something is wrong. The only conclusion I can think of is she has finally had enough and is leaving me.

She pulls back and sits back at the table. Three tables over, Claudia is giggling at something Tommy is saying. I didn’t believe at first the fascination she has with him, but I see it when they are together during visitation. The adoration is evident in every move she makes unlike my girl who is currently the complete opposite today.

“What’s your problem?”

I come straight out and ask her. If she is leaving me, I can’t just sit here while everyone else enjoys their afternoon with their families and have her sit mere feet from me.

“Nothing, it’s freezing out there. I’m just cold, that’s all,” she shrugs, unable to maintain eye contact with me for long.

The longer I sit here, the more agitated I feel. I lean forward and grab my hair in my hands while my leg can’t stop shaking. My heart beats irregularly and taking deep breaths is doing nothing but giving me more time to think the worst. I haven’t felt like this in so long, I barely remember the last time.

“This is it, isn’t it? You can’t cope anymore, can you?” I growl, not lifting my head to face her.

“What are you going on about?”

I feel her hand on top of mine and she gently prises my hands away from my hair. It takes a second but when I look at her, she looks as confused as I feel.

“Don’t forget why I’m in here,” I snap before I know what I have said.

The second it is out of my mouth I regret it. She goes from confused to livid in a beat. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Forget I said anything,” I urge.

“I never forget,” she spits, “Everyday you’re in here my guilt grows. I just miss you, Drake. Why does that seem so hard for you to understand?”

“I’m sorry babe,” I repeat, then to try and change the conversation and mood I ask, “Are you still spending Christmas with Marg?”

She softens and I start to see my girl smile for the first time this month. I take hold of her hands and rub her palms with the pads of my thumbs.

“Yeah, Lorna is coming up too. Marg said she didn’t mind so it will be the three of us this year.”

This visit is like bouncing on a bad trip. I finally had her relaxing and smiling and now I feel like I’m about to lose my shit again.

She goes to take her hands away from mine when I growl in frustration. I understand her need for a friend and she has known Lorna nearly all her life but I can’t fucking stand the woman and I make it known how I feel.

I keep hold of her hands and hold on to them tighter so she can’t pull away from me.

“Don’t start Drake. At least this is our last Christmas apart,” she offers.

Cammie babbles on about plans for this time next year but I can’t let it go. The anger simmering under the surface won’t allow me to let this go. I cut her off mid-sentence.

“So while I’m in here, you’re going to be having a fucking ball with your friends. That’s just fucking great, babe. Be sure to think about me being served dry turkey and sloppy fucking mash.”

She again tries to pull her hands out of mine but I refuse to let go of her.

“Why are you being like this?” she asks.

“You turn up here looking like you’re only here because I dragged you out in the fucking cold. You sit moaning and looking tired as shit because you fucking insist on working in that shit pit café but it’s alright because you won’t be alone this Christmas.”

I try to reign my temper in before the screws come over to intervene.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she whispers, losing the fight to keep the tears in.

As soon as the first tear falls from her eyes, I snap.

“Don’t cry, you know I can’t stand to see you cry.”

This time I let her go when she yanks her hands away.

“Fuck you, Drake.”

She hastily wipes her eyes using the sleeves on her jumper and stands up sharply. She takes two steps before I take her seriously. My hand shoots out and grabs her wrist when she is about to pass me.

“Where are you going? Sit the fuck down.”

We are gaining unwanted attention.

“These visits mean everything to me and while you’re being a prick I don’t want to be here.”

She jerks out of my grip and rushes out of the room. I sit there watching her retreating back until the screw opens the visitor door and she disappears to the other side.

She fucking left. How dare she leave when we only get to see each other once a month? She knows if anything is wrong we have to get it sorted before time is called otherwise I am stuck in here unable to do fuck all.

“C’mon Drake, looks like that gorgeous piece of ass has finally come to her senses and seen you for what you truly are and left.”

I catch Tommy’s warning look before I stand and get a little too close to the screw. Tommy’s silently telling me not to let him provoke me. Apparently, my behaviour this time around has shown uncharacteristic traits and certain people like to try and bring the old Drake back. And right now, he is just about ready to come back with a fucking bang.

“What are we waiting for? You taking me back to my cell or what?” I ask, keeping my voice flat but calm.

Staring into the steel grey eyes of the screw I keep my head held high and wait silently for him to lead the way out.

“I’ll see you when I finish up here, Drake,” Tommy calls out.

The stare off between the screw and I ends and he hauls me back to the wing.

Everything around me is a blur from the visiting room all the way back to my cell.

I can’t believe she left me sitting there like a mug. I don’t even understand what the fuck happened to us today.

Pacing back and forth in the six by four cell does nothing but make the frustration grow more unbearable. I keep replaying our time together and every time I try to come up with an answer, I keep drawing blank. The only thing I am certain of is that if she wasn’t planning on leaving me before, she most likely is now.

“Fuck!” I scream and kick the bed.

I snatch the pile of phone cards I have accumulated and make my way to the phones.

No one is on the end phone and I growl my way over to it so no one even thinks about getting to it before I do.

Punching in her number that I know off by heart, I wait anxiously for her to answer.

Does she regret walking away from me? Is she okay? The longer I wait for her to pick up the more I regret everything I said. I don’t know what was happening between us.

“Hello.”

Fuck, she’s been crying. Her voice is quivering and uneasy and it rips me in two.

“Babe…”

I don’t know how to begin. I go for the safe option and just say the three words that can change everything.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Oh Drake, it’s me who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have walked out. I can’t believe I did that…”

“Are you leaving me?”

I hate that I have to ask but I need to hear her say it if she is.

“No, of course I’m not. Why are you thinking I am?” she asks.

I lean against the wall and take a deep breath.

“You were being different and your letters have been getting shorter and shorter.”

“Drake, I’m being a moody bitch because I am missing you so much and it’s Christmas and everywhere I look there are happy couples all in love. I want that back for us. I want you home with me where you should be.”

I sigh heavily into the phone.

“I know babe, I really do. Like you said, this is our last Christmas apart and in a few more months we’ll have it all. Everything we want, we will have it,” I promise her and myself at the same time.

“I know you’re stuck there until they let you leave but I hate seeing you there and leaving by myself. It is so hard to walk away from you and…”

She begins to cry again and I feel like I could join her. However, my tears would be happy fucking relieved tears.

“Hush babe, don’t get upset. We’ll forget today happened and move on, okay?”

I ache to hold her in my arms as I listen to her sniffle and tell her everything is going to be okay, but I can’t. The closest I am going to get is assuring her over the phone.

“Promise me, yeah?” I urge her.

“I promise. I love you so much Drake and I miss you even more, you do know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah babe, I know,” I sigh, “Do you forgive me for being a prick?” 

Her word, not mine although I don’t disagree.

“If you forgive me for being a bitch?” she half laughs down the phone.

“Already done.”

And just like that I feel a million times better and back in control.

“Where are you now?” I ask her.

“Waiting for the bus. Have you seen outside? It’s starting to snow, it’s really pretty.”

I can hear the relief and joy in her voice. I hope she can hear the same in mine.

“I’ll have a look when I get back to my cell,” I tell her, “Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“I really do love you and I promise you will never have to go through this again.”

I need her to believe me, I don’t care about coming across as insecure. When it comes to Cammie, I would lay my soul bare and be whatever she needs me to be.

“I know you won’t because once you’re out, I’m never letting you go again,” she vows.

This is why she is my girl. The only woman to make me feel anything. She can have all of me because she has already given me all of her.

Chapter Sixteen

Cammie

The call ends and I swipe at my eyes with my gloves to dry the tears. My head is spinning. What the hell happened today? I was so fucking angry with him I honestly felt like the last two years had been for nothing. The way he treated me was unbelievable. Why is it so difficult for him to see the pressure of loving him and missing him gets too much sometimes and I can’t always be on top form when I’m with him? Being so close to him and yet not being able to hold him and love him the way I want to is unbearable.

The one day of the month I can manage to smile without forcing it is today, days when I get a measly couple of hours with him and now I have to wait another month to see him. Why the hell did I walk out? I was so angry but I didn’t stop to think about the now. How would I feel now when I calmed down enough to see the consequences of my storming out the visiting room. His call was expected and needed. As soon as my mobile phone rang I knew it was him.

At least I now know everything is back to normal between us, as normal as it can be in our situation.

The buses are slower than usual because the snow is falling thick and fast now. By the time I make it to my stop it has settled and I wish I was wearing an extra pair of socks. I think about popping my head in the café to see if they need a pair of hands to help but that thought leaves as soon as it comes. All I really want to do is jump in the shower, pour a large Vodka and climb into bed and watch trashy television.

Nearing the flat I hear yells and a lady screaming. I round the corner and there are three fire engines parked at different angles directly outside my building. My heavy steps turn into a run and when I get closer the first and second floor are completely up in flames and smoke is billowing out the front door.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” I ask, breathlessly to the little old lady who lives in flat one. She is huddled in a fire blanket and is shaking where she stands. Her puffy eyes bore into me and she scoffs.

“Do I look okay? What do you think is going on? It’s a bloody fire for heaven’s sake.”

I step back at her rudeness and regret I ever asked. She knows full well that is not what I meant. 

The flames are throwing themselves out of the broken windows and are creeping towards the sky. This can’t be happening. The sad part is I don’t have it in me too care. There isn’t anything in there that I can’t replace, then I freeze. All Drake’s letters he has sent me are in there. Oh no, I slide my hand into my purse and feel my camera is tucked neatly inside. At least that hasn’t been taken from me too.

Ripping off my gloves I tug my phone from my coat pocket and dial Stan’s number. If there is a time I need his help, it is now.

It rings out and goes to voicemail. I dial again and breathe a sigh of relief when he answers. It sounds like I have woken him up.

“Yeah?” he answers, gruffly.

“Stan it’s Cammie…”

“I know who it is, Cam,” he sighs.

“Drake’s flat is on fire, I mean, the whole building is on fire,” I tell him in a rush.

“Fucking hell. Are you alright? You hurt?”

Strangely he sounds more panicked than I do and it is my home on fire.

“No, I’m fine. I wasn’t here, I just got back from the prison and it’s on fire.”

“Where are you now?” he asks.

“Standing outside watching it all.”

“Go to the café and I’ll meet you there,” he tells me.

“Shouldn’t I stay here?”

“No.”

And then he hangs up on me. I slip away unnoticed and head for the café like Stan told me to.

The usual ping sounds over my head as I open the door and find Marg in the middle of taking an order. She catches me slipping past her and frowns.

“You’re back early, is everything alright with Drake?” she asks, ignoring her customer.

It is now I think but I shake my head and concentrate on the now.

“Drake’s fine,” I assure her, “The same can’t be said about our flat though. It’s on fucking fire.”

“What!” she shrieks, “What are you doing here then?”

“Stan told me to wait here,” I shrug.

“What’s the matter with you? You should be more upset than this,” she snaps, shoving her notepad in her apron pocket.

“I just don’t have the energy today, so why not have my home burn down around me just to top things off?” I shrug.

She watches me carefully and skitters off to collect an order, keeping an eye on me as she goes.

I learned a few months ago that Stan only lives around the corner in the opposite direction to Drakes so I am not surprised when he bowls into the café this quick. What I am surprised about is who he has with him and holding onto his hand.

“Oh my God, Cam. Are you okay?” Lorna shrieks, rushing towards me.

“I’m fine,” I say for the tenth time, “What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Oh, um, I was going to tell you but I came up to see Stan.”

She doesn’t have to look so guilty or worried about me. She shakes the snow off her head and takes a seat beside me.

“What are you going to do?” she asks me.

“Not important, she’ll stay with Marg,” Stan says, speaking for the first time. “Have you seen anyone hanging around the building lately?” he asks.

“No. This can’t be anything to do with Drake, Stan. He hasn’t been around in months,” I argue.

He rolls his eyes at my stupidity and begins shredding a napkin between his thick fingers.

“Doesn’t matter, everyone knows you’re his. Hurting you is hurting him. He’s been keeping his head down inside so if anything, it will have to be an old vendetta.”

“Or it could be a simple reason like someone forgot to turn their fryer off or left a candle burning or something,” I argue back.

“You’ll do well to remember who you are now, stop living in this fucking bubble Drake has put you in and look around you properly,” he growls at me.

Stan has never risen his voice to me before and to be honest he is ridiculously scary when he is angry.

“I don’t live in any bubble and until we know how the fire started, I’m not going to assume the worst just because that’s how most of you live around here.”

Personally, I haven’t seen too much to warrant thinking this is because of Drake.

“Then you’re going to get us killed because if anything, and I mean anything happens to you, Drake will kill me for sure. It doesn’t matter how long I’ve known him or how much I look out for you, he will make me wish I never met him.”

Lorna gasps beside me and holds my hand under the table. I squeeze back.

“Stan,” Marg warns him, making her way over to us.

“No, it’s time she knew just how much danger she’s been in,” he says, glaring at her, “every day Drake has been locked up I watch you to work, I watch you home when you’re finished. When you visit his mum’s grave, I watch you there and back. When you go to the market, I’m watching. In the evenings when you’re watching telly all cosy and thinking you’re safe behind a locked door, I check on you. Thirteen times in the last two years I have stopped his enemies getting to you. Did you honestly believe that being Drake Deveroux’s girlfriend would be easy?” he snorts, “some of the men he’s pissed off over the years would happily rape you, laugh about it and leave you in imaginable pain and then happily get word of it to Drake.”

“Stan, that’s enough,” Marg stops him.

He leans back in his chair and scrubs his face with his hands and then stares at the ceiling.

None of that can be true. I knew Drake wasn’t a good guy and had a reputation for all the wrong reasons, hell, he told me that himself. But, how could I have been so blind to this bubble as Stan called it? My day went from shit to crazy and now it’s just gone back to shit again.

All this time I have been living my quiet life believing I’m just waiting for Drake to be released but in reality I have been living a nightmare, I just wasn’t aware of it. However, I am aware now.

“No Marg, let him carry on.”

I can’t think right now. I want to know as much as possible before I begin to process everything he is telling me.

“All I’m saying Cammie, is open your eyes to what’s around you. I know for a fact you half have an inkling of what Drake has done in the past. That shit doesn’t get forgotten easily. Your house getting burnt down is nothing in our world. I was off the ball today but it won’t happen again. From now on, you’ll stay with Marg. I’ll speak to Drake and see what he says.”

I don’t bother telling him again it could have been a genuine accident, I’m too busy thinking he could be right and this fire is much more sinister than I would like it to be and it out right pisses me off.

“Thank you for looking out for me, if I had known I would have been more on alert. I’ll stay with Marg until I can find other accommodation, but I don’t want you telling Drake about this. He worries about me enough as it is, if he finds out about this I don’t know how he’ll be.”

“He has to know, he might know what’s going on,” Lorna argues, squeezing my hand assuring me.

“If he thought this could happen he would have told Stan,” I tell her, “Right?” I ask Stan just in case.

He nods and begins shredding another napkin.

“Then until we know how the fire was set, we don’t say a word. Even then I don’t want him to know. I’ll find somewhere to live, I don’t want him coming home to find out he’ll be sleeping on Marg’s sofa and everything he thought he’d have is now gone. I want a home for him and that’s what I’m going to focus on.”

Stan shakes his head and stares at me.

“Do you have a problem with that?” I ask, non-too kindly.

“Of course I have a fucking problem with it, I’m going to get killed either way here so what the hell. Do what you want. Stay here till I get back, I’ll take you both home when Marg finishes up.”

He leans across the table and kisses Lorna sweetly on her cheek, “You wait here too, I’m going to listen to the whispers.”

Then he is walking out of the café.

“What whispers?” Lorna asks Marg.

“Word will be spreading about the fire and whispers travel faster around here than a stolen Lamborghini. Hopefully he’ll know who done it by the time he gets back,” Marg explains to her.

Stan came back just before five o’clock as promised when Marg’s shift finished. He was none of the wiser about the culprit who set the fire. Personally, I was still hoping it was an accident by one of the other tenants. Stan said he would wait till the morning when the fire inspector found how it started. He drove Marg and I back to her place and with a hug and a promise to see me before she left London I said goodbye to Lorna and we were inside and Marg was putting the kettle on.

I focused on the steam rising out of the kettle as it neared boiling point and if it wasn’t for Marg poking into my pockets and thrusting my mobile in my face, I wouldn’t have heard it ringing.

Shit, what’s the time? Six o’clock. It’s Drake.

“Hello.”

I keep my voice calm and normal, if I don’t want Stan telling him then I can’t give away that anything is wrong myself.

“Alright babe, did you get home okay?” he asks.

I briefly close my eyes and tell myself I can do this and I am only lying for his benefit and say, “Yeah, glad to be in the warm now.”

“Good, and you’re okay? I mean, I know you said you were earlier but I want to make sure.”

“I’m more than fine, we’re fine,” I reassure him.

“Where are you now?”

“Home, why?”

Surely he couldn’t have been told this soon and Stan gave me his word, finally, that he wouldn’t tell him.

“Where about?”

“Sitting in the kitchen, why?”

He laughs down the phone and for a second I don’t like it.

“How the fuck are you sitting in the kitchen? There’s hardly enough room to stand let alone sit.”

Oh right, I forgot, I’m not in my kitchen.

“When my phone rang, I sunk to the floor. My legs ache today. Why is it so important to know where I am?”

It isn’t his questioning that is making me angry, it’s my lying to him. I hate it.

“I like to picture you in our home while I’m talking to you. You don’t seem so far away when I do.”

Tears spring to my eyes but I am adamant not to let him hear them.

“Oh, I’m just sitting here in my coat. I stopped by to see Marg on the way home. And you’ll never believe who has come to London specially to see Stan,” I say, well and truly diverting the conversation away from the flat.

“Lorna?”

He doesn’t sound surprised. Maybe he already knew? Stan seems to tell him everything. Which reminds me, I desperately want to ask him about the thirteen times I’ve supposedly been in danger. I hold back because I can’t explain how I know about them without telling him about the fire.

“Yeah, they popped into the café while I was there.”

“It probably won’t last,” he mutters.

“I’m sure people thought that about us too,” I say to him.