I Know Who You Are(76)
Everything that has led them here was so carefully thought out, and soon, all of her hard work will have been worth it. It was always a good plan:
Identify a suitable partner for Aimee.
Someone nobody knew well enough to notice if he came back to life: Ben Bailey.
Cast someone believable to play his part.
Keep the keys to his home and delay clearing out his belongings until Aimee was in L.A. and could be persuaded to buy the property.
Dig up and rebury the dead man beneath the decking in what used to be his own garden.
Burn his remains in Epping Forest first, so that dental records would be used to confirm his identity.
Dress like Aimee to visit the bank and petrol station and make police believe she was violent.
Make it look as if she had killed her husband, to teach her a lesson: you should never forget who you are and where you came from.
No wonder Maggie feels so exhausted.
She stares at the framed Polaroid photo next to the phone again, reassuring herself that Aimee will call. All Maggie has to do is wait a little while longer. She knows this, because although Maggie might not have the best memory in the world, she knows Aimee better than she knows herself.
Sixty-five
The phone rings, waking me from a deep and blissful sleep. My dreams had taken me so far away from here that, at first, I don’t know where I am. My mind struggles to identify the unfamiliar bedroom and the crisp white sheets. Then I remember that I am in Jack’s house, and that the nightmare was real, but that I am safe again now. Safe enough at least. It’s only 8:00 p.m. but I’d gone to bed early, exhausted and unable to fight the call of sleep any longer.
I stare at the screen on my phone and see that Tony is calling. My agent only calls with very good or very bad news; anything in between he does by email. It has to be about the Fincher film. I think it might be too soon for good news and let it ring, but then something inside me screams that I deserve this part, it must be good news. I answer, listening while Tony speaks on the other end. I don’t say much. I don’t need to.
As soon as I put the phone down, there is a knock on the bedroom door.
“Come in.” I pull the sheets up over my bare legs. I’m wearing one of Jack’s T-shirts; I still haven’t been able to go back to my own house or get my things.
“I heard the phone ringing, I just wanted to check you were okay?” He peers around the door.
“Come in, I’m fine. It was Tony.”
“Good news?” He sits down on the bed and I shake my head. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m fine, honestly. I didn’t really expect to get it.”
“Bullshit, of course you should have got it. Do you know who did?” I nod, wishing I didn’t. “Who?”
“Alicia White.”
His face experiences a freeze-frame. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“No joke. Alicia got the part.”
He looks genuinely appalled by this news, which does make me feel a little better. “Wait here,” he says before leaving the room, as though I have anywhere else to go.
I let myself fold a little, now that there is nobody to see the creases. I didn’t just want that part, it meant so much more than that. Acting is like taking a vacation from myself, and I need a break. I need to be someone else again for a little while, think her thoughts, feel her fears, walk in her shoes, with the help of a map-shaped script. I don’t know how to explain it; sometimes I just get so damn tired of being me.
There’s no secret ladder to reach the stars; you have to learn to build your own, and when you fall, you have to be brave enough to start the climb again. Never look back, never look down. I’ve put my broken self back together plenty of times before, I can do it again. I can handle not getting the part, I think. I just can’t believe that she did. Of all the people. Tony says that she somehow knew where we were having the secret meeting with Fincher and followed him afterwards. I don’t know what she said to convince him, or how she knew where he would be. The only person who knew where I was and what I was doing was Jack. How did she know? And why is it that so many horrible human beings succeed in life?
Jack returns with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.
The anger I feel rushes straight to my head. “Did you tell Alicia where I was meeting Fincher?”
He looks as if my question has physically hurt him. “If you try hard enough, I think you’ll remember that, like you, all I knew beforehand was that you were meeting your agent. I didn’t know anything about Fincher until you got back. Even if I had known, I would never do that. Do you really not know how I feel about you?”
I do know. I just don’t believe it.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He pours two large glasses and downs one of them. I don’t even like whiskey, but I drink it anyway. All of it. It’s as though we are out of words and wasted time. When he kisses me, I kiss him back. When he lifts the T-shirt up over my head, I don’t stop him, even though I’m wearing nothing underneath. I reach down to unbutton his jeans, my fingers far more confident than I would have expected them to be. It’s as if my body has taken over, no longer trusting my mind to make the right choices. When his hand reaches down between my legs, I open them a little wider. I’m not feeling like myself right now. I’m not feeling shy or anxious. I want this. I want him. I think I’ve wanted him since we first met, but I just wouldn’t let myself be that person. I forget about everything that has happened, concentrating instead on the taste of him, the feel of his body on top of mine. If I’m honest with myself, as honest as I can be, I’ve imagined this moment for so long that now that it is happening, it feels completely natural. I don’t even feel bad when it’s over. I feel satisfied, I feel like a woman again and I feel alive.