Sweet Deception (29 page)

The lights from the marquee lit the path down the garden to the barn. I tentatively pushed open the wooden door, and peered into the darkness.

“Hello?” I couldn't see anything at first, and I felt a pit of disappointment begin to form. Had Toby decided not to come? Had I taken too long, and he'd already left?

“Over here,” he called from towards the back.

Relief flooded through me, and I made my way towards his voice. I found him leaning against some stacks of hay, smoking. My first thought was that it was a fire hazard, but I wasn't about to tell him that. Especially as he'd never looked cooler. He'd loosened his tie, and as the moonlight came out from behind a cloud, it highlighted the sharp, aristocratic bone structure of his fox-like face.

“You came,” he said.

I nodded shyly. He held out his cigarette, and after a split second of hesitation I took it from him. I'd never smoked before, but there seemed to be something sexy about sharing a cigarette. I put the end between my lips, my fingers trembling, as I inhaled deeply. The smoke filled my lungs and I started to cough and choke. Toby laughed, and took the cigarette back from me.

“Maybe another time.”

Once I managed to stop coughing, I watched as he continued to smoke. He didn't seem in any hurry, which made me feel nervous. My parents would be furious if they
realised we'd disappeared from the party. “So what are we doing out here?”

He shrugged, a little smile playing at his mouth. “Just talking. Taking some time away from the crowds. Why?” He frowned a little. “Don't you like being here with me?”

“Of course I do!” I didn't want him to think otherwise. Then I saw his face relax, and I realised he was only teasing. I suspected he knew that there was nowhere I'd rather be than here with him.

“Here.” He slipped his jacket from his shoulders. “Why don't we sit?”

He laid his jacket out on the floor, and sat down, patting the space beside him. “Come on. Don't be shy. I won't bite.”

I hesitated for a moment. I could feel my heart thumping hard in my chest, the adrenaline pumping through me. Part of me knew I should leave, right now, this second. Something wasn't right about me being out here alone with my sister's boyfriend. But then I thought,
What's the harm? Nothing's happened. Nothing has to happen.
So, swallowing hard, I knelt down awkwardly, so I was facing him.

Toby looked at me through heavily lidded eyes, in a way no boy ever had before.

“God, you look beautiful tonight, Charlotte.”

Heat flooded my face. A frisson of excitement ran through me. They were the words I'd wanted to hear from him for so long, so when he reached out and caressed my cheek, I
didn't object. For a second we stared at each other in the dark. I could see the outline of his lips, and the whites of his eyes. I didn't even dare breathe, in case it broke the moment. Then he leaned forwards and kissed me.

I'd fantasised about this all summer, and part of me had worried that after the build-up, it would inevitably be a let-down. But it was everything I'd hoped it would be. His lips were soft against mine—light and teasing. My arms tightened round his neck, as I felt little fires of desire igniting within me.

He moved closer to me, his kiss deepening. I had so little experience, but somehow that didn't matter. Toby knew what he was doing, so there was none of the clumsiness or hesitation that might have made me stop and think.

One of his hands caressed the back of my neck, as the other slid under my dress. My heartbeat quickened, as I felt him touch me through my knickers. It was the first time anyone had touched me down there—in fact, it was the first time I'd ever been kissed. But instead of pulling away, I found myself pressing back against him, eager for more.

“You like that, do you?” he murmured.

His fingers slipped beneath the elastic of my underwear, and I gasped as he began to touch me again, shocked that anything could feel so good.

And then, quite suddenly, an image of my sister flashed into my mind, and guilt flooded through me.

“Toby, wait!” I managed to pull away a little. “We can't do this. Not to Kate—”

The sound of her name made him pause for a moment. I'd been expecting him to be as horrified as me, to apologise and maybe reassure me that neither of us was in our right minds. But instead he just shrugged.

“Don't worry,” he said. “She doesn't need to find out.”

Before I could reply his mouth closed down on mine again, silencing me. He pushed me backwards, onto the ground. And then he was on top of me, kissing me with an urgency that left me breathless.

I closed my eyes, trying to get back to the place I'd been before. But the moment was gone.

“Toby,” I managed to say, as he began to kiss my neck. “I think we should stop now—”

But he didn't seem to hear me. His hands were on my breasts, squeezing them roughly, as he rubbed his erection against my leg.

When he moved off me for a second, I felt a moment of relief. Then, in the darkness, I heard him unbuckle his belt and unzip his trousers, and he was back on top again, his body pinning me down.

Cold panic seized me. I began to wriggle beneath him, putting my hands against his chest to try to push him off.

“No, Toby. Please. Stop.”

One hand held my wrists, while the other forced up my
skirt and ripped off my panties. I struggled beneath him, trying to buck him off, but he was so much bigger and stronger than me. He forced open my legs with his knee, the weight of his body pressing me into the cold, hard ground, crushing me, trapping me there.

“Toby, no . . .”

I felt a sharp pain as he thrust inside me. I bit down on my lip, to stop myself from crying out, as he drove into me again and again.

“Please, stop . . .”

My voice was weaker now. Tears spilled down my face. I could hardly breathe beneath him. I tried to think of something else, to transport myself to another place. But it was impossible.

He was moving faster now, more urgently. Then, finally, I felt him tense. With a deep grunt, he gave one last, savage thrust, before he collapsed on top of me.

We lay there like that for a long moment. I didn't dare move. All I could hear was the sound of him panting in the silence. Finally his breathing seemed to slow, and he rolled off me.

“How was that?” Toby asked.

My dress was up around my waist. I pulled it down and turned onto my side, so I was facing away from him, curling into the foetal position. I felt sore and bruised. I was shaking so hard, my teeth were chattering.

Toby laid a hand on my shoulder, and I couldn't help flinching. “Is something wrong?”

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak.

He sighed, clearly irritated with my lack of response. “Well.” I heard him getting up, beginning to pull his clothes on. “We should get back to the party.” His voice was all businesslike. “We don't want anyone to start wondering where we've got to.”

Finally I moved. I forced myself to sit up. Toby had his back to me. He was shaking out his jacket, trying to smooth out the creases and the evidence of what had just happened.

“Why did you do that?” I said, my voice little more than a whisper.

“What?” He turned and looked at me, and whatever he saw made him roll his eyes. “Oh, for heaven's sake. Don't start crying. No one ever enjoys their first time.”

Is that what he thought this was? That I just hadn't enjoyed having sex?

“I told you to stop.” My voice wobbled a little as I spoke, but at least I'd said the words.

“Oh, come on now, Charlotte.” He didn't sound unkind, just maybe a little condescending. “Don't start pretending you didn't want this. You've spent all summer flirting with me.”

I stared up at him. The half-light from the party caught
the sharp planes of his cheekbones, reminding me how handsome he was. I felt confused now. Was he right? Was this my fault? I was attracted to him. And when I'd come out here, I'd known it was wrong. Yet I'd come anyway.

Was I so jealous of my sister that I'd seduced her boyfriend? What kind of person was I?

A wave of shame washed over me.

Toby must have been able to seen the uncertainty on my face, because he sighed. “Look, get yourself cleaned up and come back out to the party. Have a few drinks and you'll forget all about this.” He reached out and chucked me under the chin. “And it'll be our little secret. Kate won't ever have to know.”

Once I finished speaking, there was silence in Dr. Milton's office. The only sound was the ticking of the carriage clock on the mantelpiece, which seemed exponentially loud. The tension in the room was palpable. I was suddenly aware of the tears on my cheek. Silently cursing myself for showing weakness, I wiped them roughly away with the back of my hand. There was a box of tissues on the side table next to me, but I refused to take one. Instead I blinked my eyes clear.

Once I'd composed myself, I raised my eyes to meet Dr. Milton's. I stared defiantly at her, waiting for what came next.

She didn't speak for a moment, until it was clear I had nothing more to say. “Is that the first time you've told anyone that story?” Her voice was soft, but still contained its professional detachment, which I was grateful for. I wasn't sure I could have coped with sympathy.

I nodded.

“And do you understand what happened to you that night?”

I tried to speak, but my voice came out like a squeak, so I had to clear my throat. “I had sex with my sister's boyfriend,” I said finally.

Dr. Milton regarded me for a long moment. “Is that really what you think happened?”

There was that tone she used—the one that people like teachers favoured when they were trying to get you to reach a conclusion on your own.

“I don't understand what you mean.” I shifted in my chair. My whole body felt tense. I looked up at the clock. The fifty minutes was up, but Dr. Milton didn't seem to be interested in finishing on time tonight. I opened and closed my fists, trying to release some of the tension.

“Close your eyes for a moment.” I did as she said. “Just listen to the story I'm about to tell you, and react with your instincts, without thinking.” She cleared her throat, and then began. “A girl of eighteen goes to a party and meets a young man. They go outside to talk, and at some point, they kiss. She doesn't mind what's happening at first, but when things start to go farther, she tells him to stop, that she doesn't want this to happen. But he goes ahead and has sex with her anyway.” She paused to let the story sink in. “What would you say had just happened?”

“I'd say that she'd been raped.” I said it instinctively, without thinking, like she'd told me to. Then I realised with a start what the implication of that was for me. My eyes flew open. “You're saying Toby raped me?”

“I'm not saying anything. I'm asking what do you think happened?”

My mind was whirling, trying to process what she was implying. “But I don't understand.” I frowned, trying to make sense of what was going on. “If I was raped . . . then why do I behave the way I do?” I looked up at her, and shook my head. “It doesn't make any sense.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“What do you think I mean? It's what I've been telling you all along. I have sex. A lot of it. With guys I don't know very well. I get drunk. Put myself in risky situations. That isn't what rape victims do. They don't react that way.”

Hearing that, Dr. Milton gave an exasperated sigh. That was almost the most shocking moment for me. She usually had such a good poker face, and always behaved like the consummate professional. I think it was the first time I'd seen such an honest reaction from her.

“That's such a common misconception. What you have to remember is that everyone reacts in different ways to trauma. Yes, some rape victims avoid physical contact. But promiscuity is a perfectly normal reaction to rape, too.”

The revelation took a moment to sink in. “But . . . I don't
understand.” I wasn't sure what to make of this. I'd spent so long thinking of myself in a certain way—that I'd led Toby on that night and got what I deserved for flirting with my sister's boyfriend. These past few years, I'd seen my behaviour—the partying and risky sex—as proof that I'd been bad all along. Now I was being asked to see my behaviour as the consequence, not the cause, of what had happened to me that night.

And it made sense. It wasn't long after that night that I'd begun my art course. And that was when I'd started to sleep around. I hadn't really connected my behaviour with what had happened to me that summer. I'd just assumed that it was to do with the freedom of going off to college, of no longer being at an all-girls' school. To me, my partying and promiscuity was a way of letting off steam, instead of a reaction to being raped.

I could feel Dr. Milton watching me, obviously understanding the thought process I was going through.

“There are different theories about why certain rape victims become promiscuous. Perhaps you were trying to convince yourself that you were fine. Or maybe you were trying to take back control of your sexuality, or prove that the rape didn't matter, because sex wasn't a big deal. It could be any one of those reasons, or a combination, or something utterly different, and you may never figure that out. But I can assure you that having multiple sexual partners is a classic way of
devaluing the sex act. Everything you've described—the sleeping around and the way you put yourself in dangerous situations, such as walking down dark alleys—it's your way of regaining control, of not being a victim.

“But what I think is most important for you to understand is that you're certainly not alone in reacting this way. Plenty of women attempt to get over rape by sleeping around, but our society prefers not to acknowledge it.”