The Girl I Used to Be(79)

“I think we should go to the police,” I said. “We should both go to the police together.”

“I thought that, too,” she said. “But do you know what, Gemma?”

“What?”

“I’d rather tackle him ourselves.”

I started to say, “We can’t do that,” but the line was dead.





SIXTY


    GEMMA


I WAS EXHAUSTED after that conversation with Rachel. I wanted to just go to the police and tell them everything, but I knew I had to get her to agree to that for her own sake. She’d been so powerless for so long; she needed to have some control now.

While I waited for Rory and my parents to come home, I went back to look at the rest of the photos from the party. David wasn’t in any of them, and after a flurry of early photos, neither was Alex. There was one photo of Lauren on her own; Jack must have wanted to take a last shot of her before she left. She was standing in the hallway at the foot of the stairs looking impatient, and I realized she must have been calling my name. I felt sick at the thought of what had just happened to me. The front door was wide open and I wondered whether David had run out just a minute before Lauren was there or whether he’d waited upstairs until he’d heard me leave.

I made myself go through the albums again. I saved each photo in sequence to a new album I set up on my iPad. There were hundreds and I knew I wouldn’t need them all, but I kept them anyway. I couldn’t take the risk of Jack taking them down again or, worse, deleting them. Quite why he’d do that, I had no idea, but the thought of it made me panic.

By the time my parents arrived back with Rory I was desperate for him. I didn’t want them to go off with him again; I wanted to spend time with him. But I knew, too, that I had to get this sorted and that would involve time away from him. I vowed things would change then.

While I played with Rory and cooked him some dinner and listened to his stories of what he’d done that day, all I could think was: What did Rachel mean that she wanted us to tackle him ourselves? When I knew things would be quiet at work, I sent her an e-mail.

What did you mean?

Quick as a flash, she replied: I think we should talk to him first. See what he has to say. Catch him off guard.

He’d just deny it, I replied.

A minute later she sent another e-mail with a link to a website. I clicked on it, and when the site opened I stared in disbelief. It was a site that sold covert recording devices and on the screen was a button that operated as a camera. A button that you could sew onto a shirt or jacket. It looked just like any button you’d have on a shirt and the set came with extra buttons so that all the buttons on your shirt would match. I looked closely at the button with the camera installed. I couldn’t tell it was there! And then the description stated it was a video recorder, too.

I replied: What is this?

He had it on his shirt when you had dinner.

How do you know? I asked. Did he tell you?

It was several minutes later that she replied, and when I saw her answer, I guessed she hadn’t wanted to reply at all.

I sewed them on. I’m so sorry, Gemma.

I felt fury then, that they’d done that to me. And she’d known about it. I’d talked and talked that night and all the time he was recording me. And of course he was in my room, too, and all that would be recorded, too.

Was there anything else? I asked.

I don’t know. I don’t think so.

I need to go, I replied, and switched off my phone. I couldn’t stand to talk to her right then.





SIXTY-ONE


    GEMMA


THAT EVENING, AFTER Rory had gone to bed, I sat with my parents and watched a film on television. I could see them eyeing me cautiously. They knew that I had something on my mind, I could tell. When the film ended there was an awkward pause where my dad opened his mouth to speak and my mum shook her head. I pretended not to notice, but stood up and yawned, saying I was ready for bed.

I called Joe from my bed that night, but when he answered the phone, all I could hear was background noise.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said when he called me back a few minutes later. “I was watching football at The Crown. I’ve missed you, Gem. It’s lonely here without you and Rory.”

“Lonely in the pub?” I teased. “Sounds like you’re having a good time.”

“I was the first night,” he admitted. “It was great. I’m never in the house on my own usually.”

I hadn’t thought of that. He had plenty of chances to go out, what with running and football and seeing his friends, but of course if he was in the house, Rory was there with him.

“Did you like it?”

He laughed. “Last night was really weird. The daytime was fine. I finished the kitchen and it was so much easier without Rory there. But . . . it made me think of how different my life is now compared to how it was. And it was nice going out when I wanted and staying out late. But then when I got home the house seemed so quiet. I didn’t like it!”

“I know. I didn’t like it when you were away, either.” He was quiet and immediately I felt guilty. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t want to get into point scoring.”

“Me neither. I thought you’d like it, though.”