Текст книги "Disgraced"

Автор книги: Annabel Chant

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Twenty Two

Him

It was so good to see her again. It took me aback, slightly, to realise just how good it was. I felt, at the same time, almost hysterical with relief at being back in her company, and immensely vulnerable. I hadn’t realised quite how far I’d allowed my defences to drop.

‘Here,’ she said, pulling me over to a bus shelter. Once there, she looked at her phone, before looking up at me again, smiling. ‘Goes in the right direction, anyhow.’

I stood behind her in the queue and let my hand slide around her narrow waist onto her taut stomach. As she pulled in closer, the scent of her hair wafted up through the fine weaving of her sunhat. It smelt soft and fresh, like a summer’s day in the countryside, and I drew her in even closer, as if scared that, if I let her go, she might disappear.

It was no more than a few minutes before a bus arrived, its red hulk pulling up beside us and blocking out the other side of the street.

‘Oh,’ she said, sounding disappointed. She turned to me and raised her eyebrows. ‘So where’s the gold-plating?’

I glanced up at it, then back at her. ‘It is,’ I said, with a grin. ‘Lamentably conspicuous only by its absence.’

‘I’m getting the feeling there’s no Jacuzzi, either.’ She frowned, a smile playing about her lips.

‘Regrettably, I fear not.’

I looked up at the bus again, higher this time, and what I saw took my breath away. ‘Oh dear, Miss Anderton,’ I murmured into her ear. ‘Someone’s been a very naughty girl.’

She followed my gaze upwards and let out a small, half-strangled gasp.

‘Come on,’ I said, dropping my hand and administering a discreet smack to her rear as the queue began to shuffle forward. ‘We’ll…discuss this later.’

She jumped slightly and giggled, looking around her to see if anyone had noticed, before suiting her actions to my words.

The bus was packed. The heat of the summer’s afternoon, coupled with the proximity of so many strangers, got to me almost immediately. There were no seats available, and it was as much as I could do to stand, trying to avoid contact with the passengers pressed far too close to me for my liking. She glanced up at me, several times, before speaking.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes, I…’ I hesitated, not used to being put on the spot like this. ‘I’m just…hot. That’s all.’

‘Okay.’ She was looking at me through narrowed eyes, and I could tell she wasn’t buying my words. ‘Do you want to get off here? We could get a cab.’

I shook my head. ‘No. Let’s see this thing out. After all, it’s your own personal bus.’

She flushed a little. ‘Okay,’ she said, not quite able to hide the guilty smirk as she turned to look out the window.

‘You haven’t heard the last of this, you know,’ I added, in an undertone.

She didn’t reply, but I could tell she was still smiling even though her face was turned away.

It was a long and faltering journey through the rush hour traffic. I’d had no idea there were so many bus stops in London. It felt as if, for every hundred yards forward, we took fifty back. To make matters worse, I kept seeing Rick, in my mind’s eye, tumbling through the air, plummeting Earthwards like a discarded doll. By the time we got off, the sweat was standing out on my brow and my breath was coming hard and fast in the back of my throat.

‘Hyde Park,’ she said, evidently proud of her superior skills at navigating the London transport system. ‘You can breathe again.’

It was my turn to flush. Had my suffering been so obvious? I wasn’t used to appearing ill at ease and, for a moment, I felt like scowling. But she looked so pleased with herself, I couldn’t help laughing.

‘Very impressive,’ I conceded. ‘But, from now on, I’m in charge. Okay?’

She gazed up at me, her eyes huge and as blue as the sky above. She didn’t reply – only nodded; a tiny tip of the head that spoke more than words ever could. I felt myself growing hard, immediately, at that small, submissive gesture, and I put my free arm around her and led her towards the park.

It was busy, as usual, dotted all over with picnickers and tourists, as well as the ubiquitous joggers, beating the bounds like the pagans of old. I steered her towards a quieter area, farther from the network of paths and walkways that criss-crossed it in some sort of godly geometry, and into the shade of a small copse of trees.

‘Here,’ I said, finally, plumping down the hamper and opening it. ‘One blanket for Madam’s pretty little bottom.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, sinking down, before patting the rug next to her. ‘Sit next to me.’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘Are you telling me what to do? Aren’t you in enough trouble already?’

She looked up at me, clearly trying hard not to laugh. ‘Um…yeah. About that…’

‘Not now,’ I interjected, kneeling down to sort through the hamper. ‘We’ll discuss that later. For now…champagne.’

She didn’t argue, merely watched as I popped the cork and fished out two glasses, tipping them sideways to prevent the bubbles escaping.

‘Canapés for madam?’ I continued, passing her a glass. ‘I’ve brought all sorts. I wasn’t sure what you liked.’

‘It all looks lovely,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

‘It’s the least I can do,’ I said, pulling out the plates, together with an assortment of delicacies I’d grabbed earlier that afternoon from Fortnum and Mason. ‘I should’ve been in touch before now. I owed you that, at least.’

For the first time, I saw the radiance of her gaze dim. She turned away from me, clearly uncomfortable. ‘You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, just to apologise,’ she said, her words almost inaudible against the chatter of a group of tourists walking close by.

I let my glass fall from my hand and sat down next to her. ‘No,’ I said, appalled by her sudden change of mood. ‘That’s not what I meant.’

She turned to face me again, her expression still wounded, and I marvelled that my words could have such an effect on her.

‘So, what then?’ She brought her gaze up to meet mine. ‘What did you mean?’

‘I meant,’ I hesitated again, not sure how to put into words the anguish of the last few days. ‘I wanted to see you. I did…so much…but things aren’t so straightforward anymore.’

She nodded. ‘I know. I get that but I don’t understand. Why couldn’t you have talked to me? Explained what was going on?’

I gave a harsh laugh. ‘I couldn’t at first. I was in custody and then…’

‘And then?’

‘You wanted to get back with your ex, if I remember rightly.’

She looked mortified, and turned away. ‘That was…a reaction.’

‘A pretty extreme one, if you don’t mind my saying. The last time you saw him, before that, he assaulted you.’ I couldn’t keep the sarcasm from my voice – I hadn’t realised, until now, quite how much that newspaper article had stung.

‘And you’d been charged with murder,’ she countered. ‘Next to you, Leo suddenly seemed quite sane.’

I nodded, unable to argue with the logic of her statement. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘It can’t have been easy on you.’

She didn’t speak for a moment. When she did, it was to throw me a challenge. ‘So, you’re out now. You can talk to me. Why don’t you tell me why they thought you’d murdered those girls? I mean…you didn’t, did you?’

    Twenty Three

Her

It was his turn to look away, and my heart sank. Had I pushed him too far? Was he going to shut down on me again – decide this had all been a huge mistake? I didn’t want to push him, but I had to know what was going on, especially if I was going to get involved with him again.

When it became clear he wasn’t going to reply, I sat back and looked at him, wondering what the hell was going through his mind. All his self-assurance of earlier seemed to have faded and, when he turned back to me, he looked anguished.

‘Look,’ I said, feeling awkward now. ‘If you don’t want to talk…’

‘No.’ he cut through my words. ‘It’s just…I’m not used to confiding in people. At least, not many people…’

I thought of Ronnie, and wondered if he confided in her. Something told me did, and I felt a sharp pang of envy. It was ridiculous, I knew. He’d known Ronnie for years – Christ, he’d even married her – and he’d known me a few weeks, maximum. But it did nothing to assuage my jealousy.

I hoped my feelings didn’t show. If they did, he didn’t notice. He seemed to be struggling for the right words.

‘I have a situation, I deal with it,’ he said, finally. ‘I don’t discuss it unless I have to.’

‘Okay.’ I tried to keep the hurt out of my voice. So he was shutting down on me.

‘I’m sorry.’ He stroked my cheek lightly. ‘I want to tell you. It’s just…difficult.’

‘Okay,’ I said again, and then a thought hit me. ‘So, let’s play a game.’

He gave me a long stare. ‘All right,’ he said, finally. ‘Let me guess. Truth?’

‘Or Dare. Yes.’

The ghost of a smile played around his mouth. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Truth or dare?’

‘Truth,’ I said, feeling my throat tighten involuntarily. I hadn’t thought this through. What would he ask me, and would I be able to answer it honestly? Suddenly, I understood why he’d been so reticent. Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed him.

‘Truth,’ he said. ‘Okay – do you still fantasise about being taken by a group of men?’

I felt the blood rush to my cheeks at his words. Christ, why had I even suggested this? ‘No,’ I said. ‘I think you cured me of that one, indefinitely.’

He nodded, regarding me carefully as if looking to see if I were really telling the truth.

‘I don’t,’ I said, still blushing furiously. ‘Honestly.’

‘I fear the lady doth protest too much,’ he said, with a reproving smile.

‘It’s the truth.’

‘Okay,’ he refilled his empty champagne glass and held out the bottle to top up mine. ‘My turn then, I suppose. Truth.’

‘Tell me something about you. Something you don’t tell anyone.’

He paused for a moment and leant back on one arm, sipping his champagne. ‘Okay. The reason I was…quiet…on the bus was because I…’

‘Have claustrophobia,’ I butted in. ‘Won’t do. Too obvious.’

He looked faintly embarrassed. ‘Most astute, Miss Anderton. I had no idea I was so easy to read. What do you suggest then?’

‘Okay,’ I thought for a moment, and then it came to me. ‘Why do you spell your name with only one F? I mean, every mention of your family online is spelt Fforbes with two Fs.’

‘My dear,’ he said, raising his eyebrows. ‘I appear to have acquired my own personal stalker.’

‘Answer the question,’ I said, flushing yet again. I had to admit – it did sound a bit psycho, put like that.

‘I told you before,’ he said with a shrug. ‘It’s easier – no one ever gets the spelling right.’

He was trying to act casual, but I could tell the question had ruffled him.

‘Still won’t do,’ I said, taking a sip of my champagne. ‘This is supposed to be Truth or Dare, and you’re lying. If you don’t come out with it, you’ll have to do a forfeit. Do you want to have to run naked all the way around the perimeter?’

He frowned, but I ignored it, and carried on blithely. ‘Of course, if you’re reputation isn’t in enough tatters…if you want to be known as the Hyde Park Flasher…’

His eyes widened in mock horror and he shrugged again, before rolling over onto his stomach. ‘All right,’ he said, eventually. ‘If you really want to know. I’m surprised Max hasn’t told you already, to be honest. Anything to put you off me.’ He took another sip of champagne, before continuing. ‘My father is a total bastard. Truly horrible. Never wanted children. Certainly didn’t want me, and let me know it whenever he could. By the time he sent me away to school – and that time couldn’t come quickly enough for either of us – I’d developed a stammer.’

I didn’t speak. I didn’t know what to say. Christ, I hadn’t been expecting anything like this. Suddenly, I felt ashamed of myself for probing so hard. I put out a hand to comfort him…to stop him from having to continue, but he carried on anyway, talking, it seemed, more to himself than to me.

‘All through school it was the same; F…forbes the f…f…fag. I say, F…f…forbes, can you polish my boots? I say, F…forbes, can you f…f…fetch my books? By the time I left, I’d learnt to control it – more or less – but I dropped the extra F the first moment I could.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, in little more than a whisper. ‘I…had no idea.’

‘And why would you?’ he said, turning onto his side and returning my gaze. ‘It’s under control now. Being in control…it helps.’

I nodded, a thought distilling in my mind. ‘Is that why you like…controlling women?’

He frowned again, but this time it was a frown of concentration. When he answered, he spoke slowly. ‘I…don’t think so. I’ve never thought about it. It’s just…all I’ve known.’

‘I don’t understand,’ I said. ‘How can it be?’

‘My upbringing was…rather unusual, shall we say?’ He gazed out across the park. ‘My father was just about as dominant as they come. My mother was totally ineffectual against him, and I bore the brunt of it. He had a whole entourage, many of whom practically lived at the Castle. Ronnie was one of them. He used them as his slaves – sexually, I mean – and had the wildest orgies you can imagine. My mother didn’t participate. She knew exactly what was going on, but turned a blind eye.

‘By the time I went up to Cambridge, he’d bought the Dominion and turned the basement into the most elite sex club in the UK. We were expected to attend that, as well as the parties, when we came home.’

‘We?’ I was trying to imagine this poor, lonely boy with a stammer, trying to fit into a world of sex and depravity and, for a moment, it made me feel better to think of him with an accomplice of sorts. But then… ‘You mean Ronnie and you?’

He shook his head. ‘Ronnie was later. She was my father’s employee then, helping him run the club. She had a son and I think everyone suspected he was my father’s. He certainly looked after her.’

‘So who…?’ I let the rest of the sentence trail off into the air, unspoken.

The heat of the sun was beginning to diminish and the air was less stifling, as he continued to gaze across the park, the evening shadows growing longer. He seemed half-lost in his own world. At my question, he turned to look at me, as if surprised to find me there. ‘Well, Aimee, of course,’ he said. ‘I’d forgotten you didn’t know.’

‘Aimee?’ My pulse quickened at the name, though whether it was through nerves or jealousy, I couldn’t distinguish.

‘Yes.’ He sat up. ‘Aimee’s parents were friends of my own. When they died in a car crash, my parents took her in. My mother had always wanted a daughter. She doted on her. And my father, well, even he was fond of her, in his own way.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘That must’ve hurt.’

‘Oh, I resented her, at first.’ He held out one of the plates of canapés. ‘Of course I did. But not for long. No one could resist Aimee for long. She was so beautiful…such fun…so light hearted. I only saw her during the holidays, but she made those so much more bearable. By the time I came down from Cambridge, I was hopelessly in love with her.’

At these words, it was as if someone had squeezed my heart in their fist. I felt wrung out and limp. How could I ever compete with her – this ghost of a girl he’d been hopelessly in love with – even if she were dead?

‘What happened, then?’ I asked, trying to keep my voice from wobbling.

‘Happened?’ He looked at me in surprise. ‘Don’t you keep up-to-date with current affairs, young lady? It’s been plastered all over the papers, yet again, ever since the whole Charlotte fiasco began.’

I shook my head. ‘I…I’ve been trying to avoid the media ever since…you know…Leo.’ In fact, I realised now, the only time I’d seen the papers, since that first article Liv had shown me in the restaurant at Ffyvells, it’d been the front page story about Kitty, and the one about myself. I hadn’t been able to bear the thought of reading any more about Leo’s sexploits.

‘Hiding from the truth won’t change it,’ he said, leaning back on his elbow nonchalantly. ‘I should know – I tried.’

‘What do you mean?’ I persisted. ‘What happened to Aimee?’

‘She disappeared,’ he said. ‘From the F Bar. By that time, my father had passed it onto us to manage. We spent far too much of our time there. Aimee was the life and soul of the party, but we were devoted to each other. Always were.’

I wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince me, or himself.

‘Then, a couple of years later, I went away on a business trip. She didn’t come – someone had to be there to manage the bar, so she stayed with my mother at the Castle. When I came back, everything was different. It was as if she’d changed overnight. She was still a party girl, but she’d totally lost control. She flirted with every guy in sight, and seemed to hate me. I don’t think she did, not really, but that was how it seemed, at the time.’

‘Why?’ I said, not quite following. ‘What made her change like that?’

He shrugged. ‘She said she didn’t want to be with me anymore. It was hard – I still loved her and I was sure she still loved me, too, but she just went into a spiral of self-destruction. I was sure she was sleeping around, which cut me to the quick. I couldn’t bear the thought of her in some other guy’s arms. Well – you’ll know how that feels.’

I could only nod again, a lump forming in my throat. I knew exactly how it felt.

‘Then, one night,’ he took a deep breath, as if continuing was almost too painful to bear. ‘I came late to the F Bar – I’d been in a meeting with the old man – and she was chatting to this group of guys in the corner. Older men – I’d never seen them in there before. At first, I almost thought she was fighting with them and was about to go over and intervene, but then they walked out and she went with them. Willingly. I didn’t stop her. I didn’t even try to – I was so heartsick, by then.’

‘And?’ It was as if everyone else in the park had faded away, so spellbound was I by his words. I realised, suddenly, that I was holding my breath.

‘And I never saw her again.’ He let out his breath in a long sigh. ‘Neither did anyone else. It broke my mother – took away what little reason she had. She’s never been the same since.’

I didn’t speak for a moment, as everything finally slotted into place. No wonder he’d tried to protect me. No wonder he ran the organisation he did. He wasn’t seedy – he was a heart still bleeding for the loss of its lover.

I moved closer to him – put my hand to his cheek, expecting to find tears there. He looked up at me.

‘I shed all my tears, long ago,’ he said. ‘I was a wreck for the longest time. If it hadn’t been for Ronnie…’ He took a sip of champagne. ‘Ronnie’d been through it, too, in her own way. Her son died, of meningitis, a few years before Aimee disappeared. She was the only one who had any sympathy for me. My mother was too caught up in her own grief. Father…mine was just an irritation to him. Ronnie was…there for me. We comforted each other.’

‘But it didn’t last?’

‘How could it?’ He shrugged again. ‘She was submissive, when we got together, but then she changed. She’d been an overseer at the club for a few years, by that time, and had experimented with switching.’

‘Switching?’ I shook my head – I had no clue what it meant.

‘Trying out the other side of the coin.’ He sat up. ‘I think she’d had enough of submitting, by that time. When she became a Domme, everything about her changed. We still cared about each other, but we just weren’t compatible.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. It sounded so inadequate, but I had no idea what else to say.

‘Don’t be.’ He smiled, briefly. ‘She’s far happier and I don’t think it would’ve lasted, long term, anyway. I think we both knew that, from the start. We were both hiding from ourselves, wrapped up one inside the other and, when that finally subsided, there was really only friendship holding us together. It still holds us together.’ He smiled again, more warmly this time. ‘I can’t see that changing.’

‘I’m glad,’ I said. I meant it. He’d had one hell of a life, for someone who’d seemed so sure of himself when I’d met him. It made him more human, somehow – more approachable – and I was glad he’d told me, even though it was hard to hear him talking with such affection about his past loves.

‘Thank you.’ He smiled again, and this time it was meant for me. He ran his hand down my arm and looked up into my eyes. ‘I’m glad, too. Glad that I met you. My life’s been such a crock of shit, recently. I don’t know how I’d have got through it if I hadn’t had you to focus on.’

I felt tears welling up in my eyes at his candour and I turned away. ‘Thank you,’ I said, fighting to keep them from spilling down my cheeks. ‘I’m glad I met you, too. I don’t know what would’ve happened to me, if I hadn’t.’

He didn’t reply for a moment. When he did, it was to take me by surprise yet again.

‘You’d have been fine,’ he said, sitting up and moving in behind me. He lifted up the brim of my hat and nuzzled into my neck, his breath warm and slightly damp against my skin. ‘I had your back, even before you knew it. You’re not the only psycho stalker in town, you know.’