Never Forget You, page 29
Oh, God … He’d forgotten all about that. ‘I am so sorry.’ Thank goodness, he’d left it in a little side street with no meters. ‘I’ll be back – with the car – on Sunday.’
He said his goodbyes and rang off, meaning to jump out of bed and get properly dressed, but as he went to lay his phone back on the bedside table, he noticed he had a voicemail waiting for him.
He pressed the right series of buttons to listen to the message, and the sound of Alice’s voice hit him like a punch in the gut. She sounded sweet and happy and excited.
‘I’m at the hospital, but I’m getting ready to go home. It was my family, as security probably told you. My mum and dad were there. My sister, Lo – that’s short for Elodie – insisted on taking me to get checked over …’
Elodie. The name snagged Ben’s attention as the message ran on. There was something important about that. A second later, he was jumping out of bed. ‘She’s not Elodie!’ he shouted to nobody in particular.
That had been the name on the invitation! Elodie and Isaac … Alice’s sister was the bride! It took all he had not to run out of the room in his T-shirt and boxers, grab the first person he saw and tell them the good news. With shaking fingers, he dialled Alice’s number. ‘Hi,’ he said when she picked up. ‘How’re you doing?’
‘Better now you’ve called.’ He could hear the smile in her voice, and it put one on his face too.
‘You’re not Elodie,’ he said because those seemed to be the only words in his head at that moment.
She laughed gently. ‘No, I’m not. And I’m definitely not getting married any time soon. I’m disgustingly single.’
Not for long if I have anything to do about it.
‘When can I see you? Can I come today?’
Alice sighed. ‘I would love that so much, but because my sister’s maid of honour did a disappearing act, the bride is a bit behind with wedding prep. The least I can do is pitch in this afternoon. But you can come tomorrow evening. Did you hear my message?’
‘I did. And I’ll be there. I promise.’
The same words he’d said the last time they’d arranged to meet. And this time, she’d be there too.
Part III
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Two years since the wedding.
I OPENED THE front door to the flat, only narrowly avoiding dropping the huge arrangement of flowers I’d just picked up from the florist. I hurried down the hall to the kitchen, where I put the floral display on the counter, shrugged my coat off and replaced it with an apron. Justin had invited a select group of arty friends for a dinner party that evening, and although it was only early afternoon, I wanted to get the boeuf bourguignon underway.
I’d just got around to braising the baby onions when I heard the front door open, and I held my breath. I could never tell what kind of mood Justin was going to be in when he got home, which always left me unsure which version of myself I should be. Some days, he’d surprise me, being the man I fell in love with: charming, sexy, attentive … but those days were getting fewer and fewer. More often, he was moody, spoiling for a fight before his key hit the lock. As I heard his footsteps getting closer, I pasted on the serene smile and tried to look both happy and non-threatening.
‘Good morning?’ I asked as he came up behind me and looked over my shoulder.
‘Where have you been?’
His tone wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t exactly happy either. Sometimes, I wondered if it wasn’t easier when he shouted and screamed right from the get-go. At least I knew where I stood then.
I twisted my head to meet his gaze. ‘Right here, getting the dinner underway.’
‘I meant before that.’
‘I went to get the flowers.’ I pointed to the vase sitting on the counter. He’d specified white lilies, and they were definitely white lilies – I hadn’t got it wrong, had I? Although I’d written it down the moment he’d said it, suddenly I was second-guessing myself.
He flicked a glance in their direction and then looked back at me. ‘The florist is two-point-three miles away. That’s a round trip of four-point-six miles. The mileometer on your car says you drove five-point-three miles today. Where else did you go?’
I stared back at him with wide eyes and lied. ‘N-nowhere.’
Even though there were some really fabulous florists in Kensington, Justin always insisted on using a place in Mayfair on the other side of Hyde Park. I knew he used my phone’s location details to check where I was sometimes, so when I’d picked up the flowers, I’d slipped into the café next door to have a macchiato, even though I hadn’t asked his permission to do so. I’d hoped that would be close enough to make it seem I was still at the florist and it definitely wouldn’t have affected the mileometer. ‘Roadworks along Park Lane meant I had to take a detour.’ I felt guilty even though I was telling the truth. Traffic had been awful on the way back. ‘I ended up circling north of the park instead of south.’
He made an acknowledging grunt. ‘I think my taxi ran into the same jam. You’d have been better off cutting through the park rather than going all the way around.’
There was no point in telling him that there’d been a huge queue of cars trying to do just that; his suggested route had been just as busy. That would be seen as arguing back. I smiled back at him. ‘Of course … I should have thought of that.’
But my words did nothing to soothe him. If anything, I could see his hackles rise further. He was in the mood to find fault and I’d spoiled a promising opportunity with a perfectly reasonable traffic jam.
He glanced around the kitchen. I could tell he was scanning for an outlet for his frustration and I held my breath as he momentarily studied the flowers then moved on. Phew. Eventually, his gaze landed back on me. Cooking always made me hot, and I could see him taking in the wisps of hair that had started to curl in the heat, the slight sheen to my skin. ‘Do you have to wear that?’
I flinched inwardly but took care not to let it show. ‘I’ll take the pinny off when I’m finished cooking.’ He hated that I wore one, but he hated it even more if I got drips and splashes on any of my beautiful clothes. But then I realised he wasn’t staring at my attire but at the little silver bee dangling just above the top of my apron.
‘I don’t even know why you hang onto it. It’s ugly. You have much nicer pieces.’
I suppose I did. All things he’d bought me. Apart from this pendant, nearly every other bit of jewellery I’d owned before we’d got married had gone. Justin had quite a thing about ownership.
‘I’m going to change before dinner anyway. I was thinking I’d wear the necklace you got me for Christmas,’ I said smoothly. ‘It’s stunning, and it’ll go well with the dress.’ White chiffon. Also new. Also picked by Justin.
He nodded, but his eyes remained trained on the silver necklace. ‘Who gave that to you?’ It wasn’t the first time he’d asked.
I glanced away. ‘I already told you. Lo gave it to me.’
‘Oh, Angel …’ His tone was light, almost teasing. He waited for me to look back at him. ‘I can always tell when you’re lying. It means something to you. You’d have disposed of it by now if it didn’t. And that can only mean one thing – another man gave it to you.’
I shook my head gently.
‘And not just any man, but a lover.’
I swallowed.
‘It was him, wasn’t it? That boy …’
I still couldn’t believe he was going on about my old next-door neighbour almost two years after our wedding. I hadn’t seen Sam, hadn’t even thought about him since that day, but it didn’t seem to make a difference. ‘No. Sam never gave me anything.’
I wasn’t going to admit there was another man in my past. It would only give him twice the amount of ammunition. But Justin was right about one thing – this pendant did mean something to me. And it wasn’t about the man who had given it to me. I’d kept it because it reminded me of who I’d once been, someone I seemed to have lost.
When we’d parted, Ben had said the charm would help me find my way back to him, but when I’d thought back to what he’d actually said about bees, I’d realised he’d said they could always find their way home, and I’d decided it meant I’d find my way back to me, the girl Justin had fallen in love with, the one who’d been full of potential and possibility.
I hadn’t picked up a violin since before our wedding and losing my music had meant more than losing a career. Who was Lili? I didn’t even know any more. So, on days when I felt my identity blurring around the edges, I slipped this necklace on as a tangible reminder that I had once been more than I was now.
‘It was a present from Lo,’ I repeated.
Justin shook his head. ‘I just told you I can tell when you’re not being honest with me.’ His hand shot out and closed around the pendant, tugging at it hard. ‘Do you think I’m going to let you laugh in my face like this! Take it off! Take it off now.’
The fine chain dug into the back of my neck as we struggled for possession. ‘Justin! You’re hurting me!’
‘You’re hurting yourself, Angel. If you’d just let go, this would all be over.’ And then, with one swift twist of his hand, he yanked and the skin at the back of my neck stung as the clasp dug in then gave way.
Justin backed away, the necklace in his hand, a triumphant expression on his face. ‘I’m putting this cheap tat where it belongs,’ he said, dropping the necklace inside the kitchen bin.
‘No!’ I shrieked, running forwards, but he moved to block my way.
‘Don’t even think about it.’
I froze, eyeing him carefully. I knew better than to ignore that smooth tone.
‘After this little display, I’m not so sure I believe you about going to the florist’s. Another lie, probably.’
‘But the flowers are right there. I—’
‘And you know what it means when you go out without permission …’
I stood there, shaking my head. Please, no, I begged silently as he turned and walked towards the front door.
‘Our dinner party is ruined,’ he said over his shoulder, ‘and I’m going out. I don’t even want to look at you at the moment. And while I’m gone, you can call our guests and tell them not to come.’
I ran after him, hoping to reach the front door before it could slam behind him, but I couldn’t match his stride. My fingers closed around the handle as I heard the lock turn a second time. ‘No!’ I shouted, beating my palm against the door. ‘Justin … you don’t have to do this! You don’t have to lock me in!’
His muffled voice came from behind the door. ‘Unfortunately, I do, Angel. You’ve proved once again that you can’t be trusted.’
My feet were cold. And wet.
I looked down and saw that the heels of my stilettos were half-submerged in dank, brown mud. Murky water lapped at my toes.
Where was I?
I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself. The sky was the colour of brushed steel and a fine mist hung in the air over the river. I could see the dome of St Paul’s above the rooftops on the opposite shore, which meant I was … on the south side of the river? I turned to find myself at the edge of a muddy and rocky beach, nestled beneath the unmistakable concrete and glass of the South Bank Centre.
I didn’t remember leaving the flat, let alone how I’d got there.
I patted myself down, checking for injuries, taking inventory. I was wearing the same clothes, minus the apron. No coat. My hand flew to my chest and I found a comforting lump of bee-shaped metal there. I raised my hand and rubbed the raw skin at the back of my neck. I must have pulled the pendant out of the bin after Justin had left. As I explored the chain with my fingers, I realised it was another one from my jewellery box, longer and finer than the original.
I didn’t remember doing any of that that either.
My stomach hollowed out and I feared I would vomit.
It had happened again, hadn’t it?
I carried on my self-check and found my phone in my right trouser pocket and a small silver key in my left. Well, that explained how I’d got out.
For at least six months, Justin had taken to locking me in the flat if I did something he didn’t like, or if he even suspected I might. Given the level of his paranoia, it was becoming a pretty frequent occurrence.
But yesterday the cleaner had left her key on the kitchen counter. I’d been about to call after her, but then I’d stopped and stashed it quickly and silently in my pocket. It was the miracle I’d been waiting for – freedom, a means of escape.
The momentary warmth caused by finding the key evaporated. Standing there, shivering beside the Thames, I was scared. What if I had a brain tumour? What if there was something seriously wrong with me? Normal people didn’t do this kind of thing, did they?
As if to add weight to the suspicion, a voice called out from the concrete embankment beyond the beach. ‘You all right, love?’
I turned to see a middle-aged couple, foreheads creased in concern, leaning over the railing. I stared back at them, jaw frozen shut, unable to answer even that simple question. The woman headed down the steps leading to the beach. I watched her get closer and closer, my toes feeling the cold lap of river water. I still hadn’t moved.
‘Looks like the tide’s coming in,’ she said nervously when she got close. ‘We saw you standing there and, well, we thought you were about to … um … that you might need a bit of help.’ In that very British way, she’d said both nothing and everything. She must have thought I was about to walk into the dirty waves, ready to blot everything out.
I should have been horrified at that realisation, but the idea didn’t shock me. Quite the reverse. I realised how simple the plan seemed, how beautifully efficient.
That wasn’t normal either, was it?
‘Are you okay?’ she asked again, her voice soft with concern.
‘No,’ I croaked back. ‘I don’t think I am.’
‘Do you need …? I mean …’ She glanced at her husband. ‘Is there someone we can call for you?’
‘No,’ I said shakily. ‘I’ve got my …’ My phone. I had my phone with me.
I clamped my hand over my mouth. How could I have been so stupid? I slid my hand inside my pocket and pressed the button to turn it off, hoping Justin hadn’t checked my location as he often liked to do. If he found out I’d left the flat, he’d want to know how I got out, and then what was I going to do? He’d make me tell him about the key and any hope I had of escaping, living a normal life, would be gone! I began to shake, my ribs squeezing inwards, preventing me from drawing a full breath.
I realised I was on the verge of having a panic attack, but instead of letting the terror consume me, I began to get that floaty feeling again, the one that allowed me to stand outside myself. I watched myself gulping in breaths, the concerned look of the other couple exchanging glances, unsure of what to do, and in that instant, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that even with a ‘miracle’ key in my possession, this was not ‘normal life’ at all. It wasn’t even close.
Like a rubber band pulled too tight, I snapped back into myself. ‘Do you think I could borrow your phone?’ I asked the woman, not wanting to risk turning mine back on.
She nodded warily but passed it over to me.
‘Thank you,’ I said, my heart full of gratitude and relief as I dialled Lo’s number, even though she was probably at work and might not pick up. I almost cried when she did, even though we hadn’t spoken in almost eight months. ‘It’s me …’
‘Lil?’ she said warily.
‘Yes …’ I broke off and choked back a sob.
‘What’s wrong?’
Hot tears fell down my face. She didn’t sound angry with me at all, just concerned. ‘Can I … Can I come and stay with you?’ She’d moved into a lovely flat in Bromley a year ago and had told me I had first dibs on her spare bedroom if ever I needed it.
‘Of course.’ There was a softness in her tone and not even a hint of I told you so. I wanted to hug her so badly it hurt. ‘I’m taking a half-day and going home right this second.’ I could hear keys jangling. ‘I’ll be in when you get here. And Lili?’
‘Yes?’
‘You’re going to be safe with me, I promise.’
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Now.
ALICE CLUTCHED A bouquet of white roses interspersed with delicate green ferns and heather and tried to look as if she was relaxed and comfortable and happy. Lo and Isaac’s wedding ceremony had gone ahead as planned. She looked at her sister, radiant in her gorgeous gown, as guests threw confetti over the pair of them, and the photographer snapped away, catching every moment.
People kept coming up to her – strangers – and kissing her affectionately on the cheek, saying how well she looked but, thankfully, there’d been too much hustle and bustle for a proper conversation with anyone. Close family knew about her disappearance and amnesia, but no one else. She kept trailing around, doing her best to play the part of an ecstatic sister, but she couldn’t help feeling like a fraud, like she was the understudy who’d been rolled in because the real maid of honour couldn’t make it.
Bit by bit, her memories were coming back, the ‘flashes’ occurring with growing frequency. A sound or a smell, a place, or a turn of phrase could set one off. Sometimes they arrived with no obvious trigger. While she was pleased she was making progress, she also couldn’t wait for the process to be over so that she could feel like a whole person again.
Her bridesmaid’s dress was dark-green velvet, with a V-neck, long sleeves and a sweeping skirt, but the best thing about it was that it had pockets. She slid her fingers between the folds of the fabric and closed them around her phone, just to make sure it was still there and she hadn’t lost it. Not the mobile belonging to Lili Everett, but the one Norina had given her.
This phone held her life as she knew it. She’d added to her video diary, talking herself through the different photographs and the events of the previous week, recording every little detail she could remember about Ben. Just in case.
