The Girl I Used to Be(86)

“I wasn’t at the party,” he said again, his voice louder now. He sounded confident; I would have believed him if I hadn’t known otherwise. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” There was a silence, and then he went on, “Look, this must be upsetting for you, coming back here. I wish you’d let me sort it with you at the weekend. We could have got the house emptied.”

“It’s not upsetting at all,” I said. It was as though I could hear my voice from elsewhere. I thought of Gemma behind that door and hoped to God she was texting someone who’d help us. “Hearing that my brother had committed suicide was upsetting. Sitting next to my mother in the ambulance as she died was upsetting. This is nothing in comparison.”

Irritation flitted across his face. “I know, babe,” he said. “You’ve been through such a lot. Come on, let’s get you back home.” He reached out to hug me. “Let’s get you home. You need a good sleep.”

And then I couldn’t help it. I laughed, though nothing about it was funny. “I don’t think so.” I didn’t dare look at him. He was standing between me and the staircase and I realized too late there was no other way out. The silence was thick and frightening, and I couldn’t stop myself from breaking it. “Do you really think I sleep well in my bed? With you beside me?”

“What?”

The memory of that night flashed before me and I shouted, “You with your phone, taking photos in the dark? You must think I’m stupid.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said again. “Come on, sweetie, let’s get back home.” The floorboard creaked as he took a step toward me. I took a step back and banged into the wall next to Alex’s door. “You’re just upset because you’re back here.”

“I’m not. I hate being here, but this is nothing to do with that.” He reached out and put his arms around me. “David, you were at the party and . . .” His hands were all over my body now, stroking me as though he owned me. As though he could do whatever he wanted with me. “Get off me! Keep away from me!”

Now his voice changed. He sounded hesitant. Confused. “You’re not wearing perfume, are you?”

My stomach tilted. “What?”

“When you opened the door, you kissed me,” he said. “When I hugged you, I noticed that you weren’t wearing perfume. You know I love it when you do.” He stared at me as though he couldn’t recognize me and he sounded perplexed, as though he was trying to figure something out. “But when I walked upstairs with you I thought I could smell it. I can smell it now.” He took a step back. “And I think I recognize it.”





SIXTY-SEVEN


    GEMMA


THERE WAS SUCH a long, tense silence that I thought I would collapse. When Rachel spoke, her voice was farther away, back toward her mother’s room.

“My mum had some perfume in her room. I sprayed it. It reminded me of her.” She was a good liar. Very convincing. But then, she’d convinced me for months that she hadn’t known who I was. “It’s being back here. It reminds me of her.”

David had stayed in the same place, just beside the bathroom, outside Alex’s room. Just inches from me. “I don’t think so.” I didn’t dare breathe. “I think you’re lying to me, Rachel,” he said. “Why would you do that?”

Terrified, I leaned back against the wall. My hip touched something. Something hard. I slid my hand behind my back and felt around.

It was a hockey stick. Alex’s hockey stick.

And I thought of the only time I’d spoken to Alex in school, right at the start of our course, when we were sixteen. He was getting onto a coach to go on a sports trip and he was carrying too much kit and dropped his hockey stick. I’d handed it to him and he’d smiled and said, “Thanks, Gemma.” I hadn’t realized he’d known my name.

Now, with my hands around that stick, I felt he’d passed it to me, just when I needed it.

And then the door to Alex’s room opened wider and David walked into the room. His back was to me. He walked over to the window, past the lamp he’d switched off that night so many years before, past the bed where he’d raped me and the blankets he’d thrown over my head so that I wouldn’t see him. I could hear him breathing in the stale air. My body was coiled like a spring.

Then he turned and my legs buckled.

“Well, well, well,” he said. “Look who’s here.”



* * *



*

HE STOOD IN the darkening room, looking straight at me. He was shocked, I could tell, but confident in his strength. Now, as then, I was no threat to him.

I stood motionless, my hands behind my back, gripping Alex’s hockey stick so hard that my skin felt raw. I stared at David, not wanting to show any fear. My stomach had plummeted, though. I was scared and in the instant I looked at his face, I knew that he knew that, too. From a movement near me, I realized Rachel was standing in the doorway; the open door stood between us.

“What’s going on?” he said. He glanced over at Rachel. “What’s she doing here?”

“Gemma and I have been talking,” said Rachel. She was trying to sound strong, but I could hear a slight tremor in her voice and I knew that of course he would have heard that, too. He’d recognize it as a weakness. I knew he’d be good at spotting those. “Talking about the party.”