To say Jodie was shocked by my sudden arrival on Valentine's Day, ashen faced and looking like I'd seen more than one ghost, was a gross understatement. Anticipating my arrival, she already had a pot of tea brewing along with a packet of chocolate biscuits, which she declared an essential therapy tool. I wasn't in much of a mood to argue, inhaling half of them while I offloaded the details of the evening. As usual, Jodie didn't interrupt me, she sat patiently listening, whilst hugging her mug, occasionally wincing at some of the details I shared about dinner with Tristan. She then held me tightly as I sobbed uncontrollably whilst recounting the flashback. I was trapped between the fear of knowing a little bit more of what happened, and overwhelming frustration because it wasn't enough detail to be able to do a damned thing about. The whole evening had gone completely to shit, leaving me with nothing but a cold sense of dread at what might be coming next. Her hushed words of reassurance that it would come back to me, and how every new thing remembered was a step in the right direction, warmed the corners of my soul. Those earlier feelings of fear and anger slowly melting, leaving in their wake the faint shred of hope to cling to once again.
Regarding me carefully while she nibbled on another biscuit, Jodie asked, "So what are you going to do now Holls?"
"End it with him." I answered flatly. Just because I was going to break things off, didn't mean I felt good at the prospect of hurting him.
"Are you absolutely sure?" she challenged, regarding me carefully with an arched eyebrow.
"It's for the best. I just don't think I'm cut out for being in a relationship." I shrugged, glancing down at my lap where my hands clasped a now cold mug of tea.
"While it's good to know where your head's at." She nodded in acceptance of my certainty, then threw me a curveball, "That wasn't actually what I was talking about. I meant the flashback."
Gripping the mug even tighter, I sighed, "Nothing I can do at the moment, it was just flickers of that night."
"It will come back Holls. This is happening more frequently, it's just a matter of time." Her certainty was heartening. I knew her words held truth, I just had to bide my time and not over-analyse to the point of insanity. It was getting easier, but occasionally a tiny detail would gnaw away, dominating every other thought, rendering me incapable of focussing on anything else.
Once we'd finished raking over the whole mess, I was beyond exhausted. I knew I'd need to head back to Notting Hill, but Jodie was dead against me getting the night bus or a cab at such a late hour, especially if there was a risk Tristan might be waiting for me when I returned. Weirdly, the anxiety I'd felt over being in my former home was nowhere in sight. It was quickly cleared with the night manager for me to crash in Jodie's room on the fold up bed they kept in storage for emergencies. Taking my phone out of my clutch bag, I discovered he'd been blowing up my phone with calls and texts. It only served to cement my choice to end things. Ignoring them, I fired off a short text to Constance letting her know where I was and that I wouldn't be back until the following morning, I shut the phone off and fell into a restless slumber.
Images from the night of my accident punctuated my sleep, the words of the man tormenting me, ringing loud and clear.
"Let's have a little fun, shall we?" His ragged voice echoed. Struggling against his weight, a single word slipped from terrified lips with enough volume to leave no room for confusion. "No!"
"I wouldn't fight me if I were you." Stone cold intimidation and submission was his end game. Clammy hands shift to restrain and silence, undeterred by resistance, desperately seeking purchase as I struggle to break free.
"You'll be begging for me to dump you back at Heathrow, wishing you'd never stuck your nose where it doesn't belong." He snarls, as a tiny bead of sweat from his forehead splashed across my cheek.
A thought flits through my mind, 'It is my business. He just wants to prevent me exposing his involvement."
No sooner does he pin me to continue his quest, I manage to manoeuvre my leg, raising it firmly to meet his groin, causing enough shift to allow my teeth to sink determinedly into the hand placed over my mouth. He collapses to the floor, landing on the huge patterned rug, a pained howl resonating around the room, offering an opportunity to run.
Things blur momentarily, then there's a faint memory of footsteps behind as I lurch down the alley in the cold dead of night. A recollection of the burn in my lungs as I fought to make it to safety and the vague hope I could flag someone down to help me, but no clue where I was.
Reaching the main road, heavy footsteps behind me amplified with every second I faltered over where to go next. The voice that had been seared into my head moments earlier, ricocheted through the silent night. "Why don't you stop running girly?"
Knowing there was only a fraction of opportunity to evade him, a bus approaches on the other side of the carriageway. Even if the driver wouldn't let me on board, there was a possibility they would call the police for me. Taking a chance, I lurch off the kerb, just as a car flies round the bend towards me, the back end skidding wide with the force of acceleration. Too terrified to go back, I remain rooted to the spot as headlights blind, the screech of tyres piercing my eardrums as the car continued to spin sideways, heading rapidly in my direction. A scream rings out, melding with the louder tone of the car's horn, seconds before the rear passenger side of the car connects, tossing me into the air like a rag doll.
There's a sickening crunching of bones, my legs connecting with the ground first, followed by my back and shoulders. There's a vague recollection of blue lights flashing before my head comes to a stop on the tarmac, and things go black.
Blood-curdling shrieks permeated the darkness, as I sat bolt upright, attempting to figure out where the racket was coming from. It wasn't until the bedside lamp flicked on and I took in Jodie's terrified expression, that I realised the noise was coming from my mouth.
"Shit Holls." Throwing back the covers, she scrambled to where I sat panting, my entire body trembling. Rivulets of stone cold fear trickled down my neck as I took a large gulp of air, nodding in affirmation. It was impossible to stop the tears tumbling down my cheeks in quick succession as she wrapped me securely in her arms. "Shhhh...it's OK, you're safe." Her words repeated over and over in a steady chant while rocking me gently until calm returned.
A faint tap at the door broke us from the bubble, glancing at the digital clock on Jodie's bedside, the glowing digits told me it was a little after four in the morning. As Jodie got up to answer the door, I scrubbed at my eyes, taking a deep cleansing breath, ready for whoever was on the other side to start complaining about the noise. Only the complaint didn't come. Trish, the night manager stepped into the room with a tray of drinks and some more biscuits. Her visit was more out of concern than anything else, as she was quite familiar with my case from when I lived there.
Over mugs of steaming hot chocolate, because apparently at silly o'clock in the morning, that is the only permitted drink, I recounted details of my dream while both women listened quietly. When I finished, Jodie's face broke out into a perfect smile.
"You do realise what this means Holls?" She was practically bouncing on her bed with glee.
Shrugging, I shook my head, confused by her apparent delight.
"It means you have more information for the police. I know you can't give them an address, but it's clear the building you were in was near the alley, so they may be able to narrow it down, especially if you remember specific details about the inside." She rubbed her hands together enthusiastically as she continued in a more serious tone. "Which means they may be able to work out who owned the flat you were in, which could mean they catch the bastard who really caused your accident."
"Do you think it's enough?" I asked, not entirely convinced.
Jodie nodded enthusiastically, "It's worth talking to them, it's certainly more information than they've had for the last eighteen months. If you want to have a mooch around the area, I'll come with you."
From beside me, Trish stood up, "She's right Holly, if you can give the police something more, it might help. Give it some thought."
As she gathered the mugs and left the room, I mulled over whether to speak with the liaison officer who'd been assigned to my investigation. I'd not spoken to him for several months, and part of me was fearful they would just decide to close things down altogether. Still too early to act on anything, Jodie insisted we double up in her bed in case I had another nightmare. Surprisingly, though, the dream didn't return. Maybe it was because something else had slotted into place, or it could have been my friend curled protectively around me, offering unyielding comfort like a child's security blanket.
Either way, I slept like the proverbial dead...no dreams...no flashbacks...just deep, restful inertia. When I woke, it wasn't with a sense of dread, instead, I felt rested and ready to tackle whatever came next, whether that was calling the police or dealing with Tristan. The latter idea soon changed when I switched on my phone, it sprang to life with a barrage of message alerts from him.
What just happened? One minute we were having a nice evening, the next you bailed on me. I don't understand. Please let me know you're OK. Xx
Holly, why did you run out on me? Our night was only just getting started. Xx
Holly, please let me know you're OK. I've been to Notting Hill and you're not there. I'm worried. Xx
Please just let me know you're alright. I get that you're upset, but I want to know you're safe. Xx
This is ridiculous, you can't just leave me hanging! Do you have any idea how much I spent on making tonight perfect?
Holly, this is absurd!!!
And that wasn't even half of them. The number of texts was at a ludicrous level. Each one getting gradually more frantic, before finally becoming quite abrupt, to the point of rudeness. Then abruptly, the tone morphed to desperate;
Please talk to me
I know you're avoiding me. Why won't you answer me?
To concern;
I hope you're safe
I'm sorry
Was he really so completely clueless?
The final text took on a different tone. A degree of finality, tinged with resignation, and maybe a hint of petulance.
If that's how you're playing things. I'll drop your things off tomorrow. Maybe you'll talk to me then.
If he'd sent that many texts, how many times had he left a voicemail? In the end, I passed my phone to Jodie before I left, asking her to delete them all so I didn't have to deal with them. I wasn't avoiding Tristan, but I certainly wasn't going to cave to whatever amplified emotional blackmail he may have employed. Judging by Jodie's face as she listened to each message, it was a good job I'd not done it myself. She was fuming by the time she'd erased the final one. Fourteen messages and several calls where he'd just hung up as soon as the answering service kicked in. Based on all the timestamps, he'd been relentless from the moment I got in the taxi, eventually giving up somewhere around 10pm.
Still dressed in the previous evening's outfit, and not fancying the walk of shame back to Notting Hill, I opted for the indulgence a cab for the second time in twenty-four hours. If it wasn't in such horrendous circumstances, maybe I'd have felt more like I was treating myself. As we drew closer to home, I realised I still wasn't ready to discuss things with Tristan. It was best if we both had some time to cool off rather than risk saying something one or both of us would regret. My mind was scrambled enough from the whole chain of events, it was almost a dead cert I would end up uttering something I shouldn't in frustration. Decision made, I typed out a short text to Tristan, in the hopes it was enough to prevent him turning up demanding answers.
I'm OK, please just give a bit of space. I'll text when I'm ready to talk. Holly
I wasn't going to apologise for running out on him. His thoughtlessness had triggered my response, while he wasn't to know his words would have a domino effect, he made one hell of a leap assuming I'd be on board with his plan. His response came swift, a hint of resignation...or maybe defeat at the end.
Thanks for letting me know. Just say when and where. Tris x
No doubt he knew what was coming, but that was a conversation for a different day. Firing off a quick response saying I would be in touch soon, I sank back into my seat, knowing I'd made the right choice.
oo0oo
Constance was camped out in the lounge when I trudged wearily through the front door. As I slipped my coat off and hung it up, she called out. "I'm guessing you've got quite a bit to tell me. Do I need to put the kettle on darling?"
Snickering at her blasé approach to my sparse message the night before, I peered around the door frame and grinned, "I'll do it. We might need cake; do we have any?"
"You're in luck, I made your favourite this morning. Thought you might need it." Glancing at me, she smiled warmly before putting her book down on the side table and removing her reading glasses. "Now get a wiggle on, because I'm getting old here."
Shaking my head as I wandered down the hall to the back of the house, somehow, she always managed to find an appropriate tone for her responses when something happened with me, no matter how eager she was to know what was going on. It was as though she had this built-in radar which assimilated the situation perfectly. It made me sad to think her and Gerald never had children...she would have been the most amazing mother. In a way, she was a surrogate to Jackson. His port in a storm, never judging or pushing, rather offering quiet counsel when asked. It was just her way. Constantly observing, taking it all in, only commenting when invited. Oddly, she'd never tried to parent me which I had half expected when I moved in. Our closeness had grown as the weeks passed, but not to a point where either of us assumed any particular role. Something which probably reinforced why I was so fond her; my affection having grown exponentially since our first encounter on the bench. This was my home, in every sense of the word, and despite me just being a lodger, not once had she made me feel like I was just her tenant.
Gathering the tea things, I found the cake tin on the counter by the breadbin. Peeking under the lid, the sweet, buttery aroma of red velvet cake flooded my nostrils. As much as I loved Ruby's baking, my biggest weakness was this. The recipe was Jackson's mum's but Constance had mastered it to the point Jackson claimed it was better, not something he'd ever say to Maeve's face. Loading the tin, along with two plates, a knife and a couple of forks onto the tray with everything else, I figured we'd likely be sat there most of the afternoon.
Carrying the tray into the lounge with care, I set it down on the coffee table, letting Constance pour our drinks while I sorted out a couple of slices of velvet deliciousness. With cake in hand, I sank back into the soft cushions of the sofa, savouring the first bite with a small moan.
"I swear this tastes better each time you make it." I moaned as I licked crumbs off my fork.
A throaty chuckle burst from Constance at my declaration. "I just follow the recipe darling, same as always. Now, are you going to tell me why I had a very dejected young man on my doorstep this morning holding your coat and an obnoxiously large bunch of roses?"
Oh crap, he'd already been to the house. While I felt bad because she'd had to deal with him on my behalf, there was a shred of me feeling nothing but relief at not being here when he turned up.
"I'm sorry, I should have warned you he would possibly appear." I winced at my own words.
"No apology needed sweetheart." She took a sip of her tea before finally asking the question which had no doubt been dancing on the tip of her tongue since I'd walked through the door. "I take it last night didn't go well?"
Cringing, I glanced in her direction. "Understatement."
Leaning back in the huge armchair, she kicked off her slippers, curling her feet up underneath her legs, settling in for my tale of woe. "Start talking then. I have all afternoon to hear what you've been up since yesterday."
Over the next couple of hours, I spilt the whole sorry story, starting with pulling up outside the hotel, finishing with me switching my phone on this morning and it exploding with alerts. Unlike Jodie, Constance did interrupt every so often to ask a question or offer an occasional view, but nothing unwelcome. Sharing for the second time offered vital catharsis, cutting through the murky film swathing happenings of the day before. It solidified my course of action with Tristan, and I resolved to act on Jodie's suggestion of retracing my steps from the night of the accident armed with the new realisations.
Stopping for a comfort break, I settled myself back on the sofa and cut us a couple more chunks of the cake while I waited for Constance to refresh our drinks.
"So, do you want my thoughts on the whole Tristan thing?" She asked after returning with a second pot of tea.
Nodding, I was sure she'd have some pearls of wisdom waiting for me. "Go on then."
"I know you say you don't think relationships are your thing. I think the issue is more a case of Tristan not being your thing." Her candour regarding my 'soon to be ex' was delivered with gentle grace. "He might have appeared perfect on paper, and he certainly came across as someone worthy of your affections, but the fact you've always remained hesitant shouldn't be ignored. I'm not just talking about his ill-judged actions from last night. It was clear your heart wasn't in it after the first couple of weeks, but it had to be something you realised for yourself. It wasn't my place to interfere, regardless of what I was seeing."
Digesting Constance's words, I knew she'd called it right. No matter how much Tristan's behaviour had strengthened my resolve, and regardless of how much I had tried to give my relationship with him a proper go, there was always something holding me back. Something I couldn't put my finger on but was ever present whenever we were together, and even more glaringly obvious when we weren't. I'd pushed it to one side, maybe because I didn't want to admit it to myself. It was nice to feel wanted, that I was important to someone not heavily linked to all the shit going on in my life. Something uncomplicated and detached from the nightmare, but no matter how much I wanted that, there was a vital element missing. A pure and simple pull. An unadulterated need, which I'd fooled myself into thinking wasn't necessary.
Exhaling loudly at my latest moment of realisation, I leant forward placing my plate back down on the table, pausing to lick my finger to collect the last few crumbs. "God, I'm so stupid." I whined, more out of annoyance with myself than anything else.
"No darling, you're being too harsh on yourself. After the stunt that boy pulled last night, he's lucky you didn't give him a swift knee somewhere sensitive and send him on his merry way there and then." Amusement danced in the older woman's eyes at the last part of her reply.
Had I not been in the middle of a five-star hotel, my response may have been along those lines. In a way, he should be thankful my freak out meant he still had all his sensitive parts intact. In that moment, another thought crystallised for me. I had every right to be pissed off thanks to his actions, and the more I thought about it, the angrier it made me. Regardless of my history, the fact he felt it appropriate to make such an inappropriately gross over-estimation of where our evening would end, spoke volumes of how little my views as a woman mattered to him. Something I had every intention of hitting him with when I finally spoke to him. It would be happening sooner rather than later, I decided, and I wouldn't be avoiding the conversation, as much as I disliked confrontation, this was something which needed tackling head on, and quickly.
No longer did I feel hurt by the whole experience, that emotion had dissolved, replaced by something I hadn't felt since the night I clashed with Jackson. It coursed through my veins, prickling with irritation, making me want to claw at my skin until it escaped.
I was angry. Blood boilingly furious.
It was a good job I was working solidly for the next couple of days, otherwise, Tristan would have discovered very quickly, this little mouse had the roar of a lion when it mattered. I still intended to put him firmly in his place over his actions, but a neutral public place would be better to avoid me turning into a raging 'she-beast' if he tried to defend his actions.
Draining the last of my tea from the mug, I stood, placing it back on the tray. "No matter, I'm done. I'm better off single."
"Don't go shutting yourself off completely, darling. You never know what's around the corner." There was a twinkle in Constance's eye as she spoke. Shrugging it off, I headed up the stairs to my room to lie down.
An hour later, I messaged Tristan with a suggested time, date and location for our 'chat'. His response was so immediate, he must have been sitting on the phone waiting for me to contact him. The whole sorry mess would be done and dusted on Wednesday evening.
When I slid into bed that evening, the mental exhaustion from everything hit me with the force of a lump of concrete being dropped on my chest. Hoping for a diversion, I picked up my phone which had remained remarkably silent for the rest of the day and quickly typed a message to Jackson. We'd not spoken since he landed in New York when I'd wished him luck with sorting out whatever he was dealing with.
Hey stranger, just wondering if you're OK. Hope things aren't too stressful. Hx
Unsure whether he would be in meetings or not, I placed the handset down on top of the duvet and picked up the book at the top of the pile on my nightstand. I'd found this volume at one of the second-hand book stalls that pop-up underneath Waterloo Bridge on the South Bank, where all the arty types hung out. It was the first of Maya Angelou's autobiographical volumes. Flicking to the opening chapter, my eyes drank in her raw and evocative descriptions of her life and dreams for a different one. Whilst I wasn't a black child realising that the reality of life was much harsher than the image portrayed to others, it was relatable on a very basic level. Those same thoughts and feelings had festered inside me, just in hugely polarised circumstances. Nearing the end of the third chapter, my phone chimed with a response.
He'd replied, which meant he was probably free for a few minutes. Turning the book face down on my stomach to hold my page, I read his reply.
Hi, it's been one hell of an eye-opener, for sure. Although, I'd have preferred not to witness some of it. Jx
Lying against the soft feathery pillow nest I'd created for myself, I smiled, cheeks aching with joy at having a distraction from my own issues. Just casual back and forth, filling me with a sense of being needed for the right reasons.
Sounds...uncomfortable. :o( Hx
And then some! You wouldn't believe me if I told you...I'm still not sure I do. Jx
Well, you know where my ears are if you need them. Hx
I'll give you the 'warts and all' version when I'm back, promise. Jx
This was progress. Voluntarily offering to share his troubles, without needing a gentle shove.
When's your flight home? Hx
Wednesday morning if I get things wrapped up on time. I've got meetings on Thursday in London I don't want to move. Jx
How about we meet up on Thursday night, you can spill your guts to me over a drink. If you play your cards right, I might even throw in a packet of peanuts? Hx
Wow, pulling out all the stops, aren't you? Jx
I giggled lightly at his silliness. It was just what I needed, and he didn't even know it.
Hardly! If I was really using the big guns, a packet of pork scratchings would have been my weapon of choice. ;o) Hx
Dangle THAT carrot and I'll tell you whatever you want. They're my kryptonite woman! ;o) Jx
You'll tell me anything just to get food out of the bargain! Hx
You really think so little of me? I'm wounded. Jx
Yeah, yeah, I think your ego can handle the bashing. 7:30pm at the pub we went to on NYE? Hx
Sounds like a fine plan. How was your hot date? Jx
Crap! He had to go there. I definitely wasn't prepared to have a conversation about it via text. In fact, it was a subject I was keen to avoid full stop with Jackson. It was my issue to deal with, and in my way, with zero interference from anyone else. Deflecting, I kept things light but evasive.
I don't think your line of questioning is appropriate, sir! Hx
Hahaha, you know you'll tell me eventually. :oP Jx
He'd find out eventually. That was a given. Especially with Constance already being privy to what a shocker it had been. I just wanted to close the door on the whole chapter and limit the damage as much as possible. Jackson's threat to Tristan from the night he flew back to America was now taunting from the sidelines. What if he followed through on his promise? My skin prickled at the thought of him kicking up a fuss because of the date from hell. It was unnecessary, and something I was keen to avoid coming to fruition.
I chose my response carefully, sidestepping the subject completely.
Sorry to bruise your already fragile ego, but some things deserve to be kept private. See you on Thursday! :oD Hx
Fine *sulks* I'll see you then. Hopefully, my ego will have healed by then. *still sulking* Sleep well. Jxx
Giggling at his silliness, I could almost picture him pouting at his phone screen as he typed. It was an art he was well practised in when he wanted something from his favourite Aunt. Of course, it was impossible for Constance to refuse him when he employed such methods of persuasion.
Realising the late hour, I returned my book and phone to the nightstand and switched off the lamp. Stifling a yawn, my eyelids fluttered closed under the weight of fatigue, as sleep welcomed me with open arms and a warm, comforting embrace.