Читать книгу Trust Me: A gripping debut psychological thriller with a shocking twist! - Gemma Metcalfe, Gemma Metcalfe - Страница 15

CHAPTER EIGHT

PRESENT DAY

Liam, 3.15 pm

‘Part of me thinks I should have just walked away. Then none of this would have happened. I wouldn’t be in love with a child I can’t bear to be without and Jess wouldn’t have been able to rip my world apart.’ I pause, the thoughts colliding against one another inside my mind. ‘But I could never have been that person who just upped and left. So I guess I’d do the same all over again… even if the ending was the same.’

Lana is unresponsive, searching perhaps for another platitude. The silence doesn’t bother me. Instead, I ease myself down onto the couch, reach over to the coffee table for my packet of cigarettes and bring one up to my lips. I still feel sick and I notice my hands are trembling. ‘Because, Lana… there is only one ending for me, you know. Jessica has seen to that.’

‘She must have cared for you once, Liam,’ states Lana, quite matter-of-factly. ‘She forgave you for everything that happened. For her son’s brain damage. She welcomed you into her family, comforted you.’

I think back to how Jess was with me in the beginning. Were there any warning signs that she wasn’t the sweet girl she appeared to be?

‘I knew she liked me. I saw the way she looked at me and the silly little texts she would send to me late at night. She was pretty sweet, I suppose.’ I laugh bitterly at the irony of my own words, realising only then that Lana really does not know the full extent of the madness that followed. Shaking my head, I raise my voice in frustration. ‘I needed to feel useful, Lana; that’s why I got too close to her. I needed to try and make amends for what I had done. Amy’s dad was sporadically around but Elliott’s dad had been a Jack the Lad, unwilling to commit to fatherhood, and left Jessica when Elliott was just a baby. I knew she felt abandoned and I felt it was my duty to save her from all of that, but believe me when I say I only wanted to be her friend. I couldn’t imagine being with anyone other than Alice. I was nowhere near ready, not emotionally nor mentally, but I thought we could be friends… that’s all.’

I go to light my cigarette but the lighter just sparks, refusing to create a flame. Lana finally speaks again, but it’s not really useful advice:

‘Well, I guess I can understand what you’re saying. I know all too well what it’s like to make one poor choice that changes your life for ever. But if you don’t love her, Liam, then tell her. Surely it’s better than this?’

I laugh just a little, try again to light my fag, but my hands are lacking the energy.

‘It’s gone way past talking. I just need to kill myself and do everyone a favour.’

I look at the clock – just over an hour and she’s home. I can’t face her, not after everything that has happened. I start to sweat. I wonder if an overdose is now out of the question. Maybe I could revert to plan B?

‘I’m so confused.’ I start to feel exposed and vulnerable from discussing all of my feelings and worries with this stranger. I can feel my body tensing like a tightly coiled spring and I gasp for breath. I’m worried I’ll have another asthma attack if I carry on speaking, carry on thinking… carry on living.

‘Just speak to Jessica, Liam. I’m sure, whatever your problems, you can sort it out.’ Lana sounds pleased with her suggestion. I scoff bitterly at her innocence and her naivety, her belief that everything can be solved with a nice little ‘chat’. This was all a bad idea, I know that now. This girl is a stranger, young and naive, without any idea of what demons lurk in my past. I can’t trust her with all of this. Was I completely mad to believe I could? The lighter still isn’t working and I’m becoming increasingly agitated, desperate as I am to calm my racing heart. Without really meaning to, I snap:

‘No offence, love, but you’re only young. What are you, twenty-two?’

‘Twenty-six, actually,’ she replies curtly.

‘Well, twenty-six then,’ I shoot back. ‘I’m thirty-six and I think I know a little more about real life. My problems are a little bigger than who I’m going to con into one of my dodgy holidays, all right?’

I regret the words the second I’ve spoken them but, before I have chance to apologise, she’s already on the counterattack.

‘Oh, really?’ she responds, her voice thick with contempt. ‘Well, for your information, I will be sacked in a few hours, which will mean I’m jobless and myself and my daughter will be homeless. I’ll then have to fly back to the UK to face my punishment, which might, if I’m lucky, allow me to keep my daughter, but most probably won’t. And you know why I’ll be sacked?’ She pauses, seemingly for effect. ‘Because instead of trying to get a sale, I have been sat for the last hour trying to talk some ungrateful bastard out of killing himself!’

I open my mouth, desperate to interrupt her flow, my heart hammering with guilt, but she isn’t finished. I want to ask what her punishment is. I’m intrigued and surprised in equal measure. She sounds so law-abiding. Unfortunately, I don’t get a chance to interrupt as her words are still tumbling towards me.

‘So, yes, I’m sorry your wife and baby died six years ago and I’m sorry you don’t love your new wife any more, if you ever did. But, you know what, Liam? If you think you know more about the real world than me then you’re deluded. So kill yourself or don’t kill yourself because I am seriously past caring. I have my daughter to think of and I won’t let you or anyone else stop me from doing that.’

With the last word spoken, she abruptly hangs up.

‘Shit,’ I curse under my breath, before flicking the lighter with all my pent-up anger.

I’m not surprised when the flame ignites instantly.

Lana, 3.19 pm

As I slam the phone down I feel a fireball of anger rupture inside my chest. How can one person be so bloody ungrateful? And not to mention presumptuous. As if he has the right to tell me I know nothing about real problems? He should try living in my world for just one day.

Throwing my headset onto my poky desk, I stand up with purpose and march towards the exit. If ever I needed a cigarette it was now. I pass rows of sweaty bodies, all cramped together like featherless chickens in a coup. The sound of forced pleasantries and laughter dance towards me and the music from the sound system beats in tune with my elevated pulse.

Striding out through the office doorway into the hallway, I’m greeted by a cool blast of chilled air from the ceiling fan, whizzing around like a helicopter propeller. Unfortunately, as I take another step forward, I am accosted by Damien, who is striding towards me with a furious expression etched on his face. I glance up at him and notice how his forehead is sweating and his mouth is contorted into an animalistic gurn as thick white powder seeps out of his nostrils.

‘Please tell me you’re havin’ a laugh? An hour on the blower with no sale? What are you playing at?’

He stops only inches away, close enough for me to see the veins popping out of his large, red forehead and feel his warm, moist spittle on my face.

I don’t answer or make eye contact with him, anxious as I am for fresh air and a lungful of tar. As I try to sidestep him, he blocks my path, the fury emanating off him in waves.

‘Answer me, Lana, or, God help me, you’re out of that door now!’

As he screams at me, his arm completely obstructs the exit. I feel my own face flush and yet I keep my head bowed.

‘Look at me, now!’

I look up, meet his bloodshot eyes, the hot tears of sadness in my own clear to anyone paying attention. My words are tangled up in my throat, so I find it hard to speak. I open my mouth but nothing emerges.

Damien tries again. ‘An hour you have been on that phone. What the fuck happened?’ He moves his arm and stands back just a fraction, but he’s still staring directly at me, his breathing heavy and quick.

‘He didn’t want it,’ is all I can muster. Tears threaten to blind me and I’m surprised when Damien reaches out and places a sticky hand on my shoulder. It lingers there awkwardly.

‘What reason did he give?’ he asks, his voice now hovering on the edge of kindness but still masking irritation. He bends down to look at me, but his staring eyes make my skin crawl and throw me off balance.

‘He didn’t give a reason.’

I know by Damien’s reaction that this is the wrong thing to say. He turns almost beetroot, the words flying out of his mouth. ‘Oh, well, the geezer will give a reason,’ he bellows down my ear, while physically turning me around and pushing me back into the office, his brief second of remorse evaporating along with my self-respect.

As I’m manhandled back inside, all the other staff members look up, their expressions trying but failing to disguise their excitement at this new bit of drama.

‘Right. Phone him back now! Nobody wastes an hour of my time and gets away with it… Oh, and Lana?’ I look up to face him. ‘Sort your face out. It’s gone the colour of boiled shite!’

Not wanting to anger Damien further, I quickly press Redial, while wiping away the unshed tears from my eyes. He doesn’t go away; instead, he hangs over me like a dose of herpes. I silently pray that he will leave me alone but my prayer goes unanswered. As the phone starts to ring, I can’t decide if I want Liam to answer.

‘Hello, Lana.’

Hearing Liam’s voice, I feel instantly better. He sounds apologetic. With Damien looking over me, I decide to go straight in.

‘Hi, Liam. I have to phone back to see why you don’t want the holiday.’

I almost laugh at this ridiculous question in this bizarre situation, but I know that wouldn’t be appropriate in front of Damien. Liam seems to understand my predicament as he lets out a tiny, light-hearted sigh. ‘Tell your boss I’ll buy one.’

Damien, having heard Liam’s words, smacks me on the back. ‘See, Lana, you just have to ask.’ He says this loudly enough for everyone to hear, before turning on his heel and sauntering back over to his desk, his winkle-pickers squeaking along the wooden floor.

‘Thanks for that,’ I say, my heart rate now reducing to a normal rhythm.

‘I’ll buy a holiday, you know, if you like?’

He suddenly sounds so very vulnerable and I perhaps understand his predicament for the first time. This is a man who truly worries about other people.

‘Don’t be daft,’ I whisper. ‘You won’t be able to travel if you’re brown bread.’

He laughs warmly and from nowhere I feel my eyes welling up yet again. I really don’t want him to die.

‘Please tell me what the matter is, Liam. This is more than you not loving your wife.’

He sighs deeply, the multiple thoughts in his head seemingly clashing together. I hear him light a cigarette and instantly feel envious. Before I can ask again, he starts to speak.

‘So, you mentioned going home to face a punishment… that you’d run away? Tell me, Lana. Tell me, what happened?’

My heart begins to thump loudly in my chest as memories of that night slap me round the face. I close my eyes in an attempt to shake them away but it’s no use, the images remain, as if they are being played back to me in HD: the body, the smell, the panic that was so strong I could actually taste it on my tongue. I choke back saliva as I reply to Liam.

‘It was nothing.’

He pauses a fraction too long. He doesn’t believe me. I’m not surprised. I’ve never been able to spin a lie.

‘I’m here,’ he says at last, an almost-whisper, ‘I’m here if you want to talk.’

I simply nod, forgetting for a moment that he is thousands of miles away and cannot see me. I hesitate, unsure of where to go now. I could kick myself for revealing too much. I’d vowed to never tell a soul, never to utter a word, and then I’d be safe. I do want to tell him, to speak it out loud, but I can’t. Not if I want to keep Amber safe. Protecting Amber is the single most important thing in my life… that is why I have to bury this secret within me, and never let it surface.

‘I’m sorry… I can’t tell you.’

There’s an awkward pause, the silence speaking a thousand words; in a matter of seconds, we have become strangers all over again, our secrets wedging an invisible barrier between us. I rest my hand on the computer mouse, the feel of it cool to the touch. Sliding it across the mouse mat, I glue my eyes to the computer monitor. The cursor hovers over the End Call button. I want to press it, to rid myself of this responsibility.

But I did that once before, didn’t I? And somebody died as a result.

‘So,’ I mutter to Liam, not sure of what I’m going to say but certain I have to keep him talking. I flick my eyes over to Damien, check he’s back on Candy Crush. ‘You were telling me about Jessica, how you don’t love her.’ I wince at my words. I never was great at being subtle, especially when I don’t think things through. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to be blunt.’

‘No,’ he replies, his voice almost apologetic. ‘I’m sorry, Lana. I never meant to snap at you. It’s just, well…’ He sighs, and I can almost feel his frustration. ‘It’s important to me that you know why I have to die. Why there isn’t another option. It’s not as simple as you think, but I don’t know how to explain. They say suicide is often a selfish act but for me it isn’t. At least I’m not doing it to be cowardly, you have to believe that.’

‘But what about Elliott? Think about him!’

‘It’s not as simple as that, Lana. You don’t understand. But just believe me when I say that all I have ever done, all the decisions I have ever made, have been for my children.’

‘Children?’ I ask, wondering if I’ve heard him correctly. ‘You mean Elliott and Summer?’

‘No,’ he replies with a sigh. ‘There was one more.’