The Girl I Used to Be(87)

“What about it?” he said. “You’ve talked about it a million times. I’ve told you I wasn’t there.”

I took a deep breath. “But you were there.” My voice was shaky. “You were at the party.”

“Oh, and how would you know about that?” he said.

“There’s a photo of you there in the kitchen that night.” From the tightening of his jaw I guessed he hadn’t expected that. “You were wearing the Coral T-shirt.”

“The Coral? I don’t have a T-shirt like that. You’re mistaking me for someone else. For Alex.”

“You do,” said Rachel from the doorway. “Or you did. Alex had photos of you both at Glastonbury that summer, wearing the same T-shirt. I’ve seen them.”

“Yeah, I had one then. It got ripped there, the night they played, and I left it behind.”

He was a good liar. His voice was steady. Reasonable. If I hadn’t seen that photo, if I hadn’t seen him wearing that T-shirt, I probably would have believed him.

“I don’t think so.” Rachel was agitated now. “You were at the party and you were wearing the T-shirt. There’s proof of it.” She gave a mocking laugh, designed to make anyone angry. “You’re just making a fool of yourself if you deny it.”

He stared at her for ages, then the realization that she was on my side, not his, dawned on him. Then he looked back at me.

My legs began to shake. He was still the same man I’d taken to view properties in Chester, the man who’d charmed me at dinner in the hotel in London. He was still as tall, as dark, and as handsome as he had been, but something had changed. He was now under threat. His body was tense, ready for battle, and in that moment I knew he’d do anything to win.

“So,” he said. “You two are in this together? That’s interesting.” There was a pause and I knew neither Rachel nor I dared to break it. “After all the things you said about her, Rachel. I’m surprised.”

Her face was crimson.

“So all those nights you told me about how you wanted to pay her back for ruining your life, for your brother dying . . . you were lying then? Were you lying when you told me how much you hate her?”

“That was before I knew what really happened.”

“You know what happened, babe. I’ve told you. I wasn’t there. You were mistaken.” His voice went soft. “I’ve always been honest with you, Coco.”

Coco? I thought. I saw Rachel hesitate and guessed it was an affectionate name he used for her. My stomach tightened. Was she going to be taken in by that? Where would that leave me, if she did?

“Remember what you said about her husband and son?” He mimicked her again. “Why should she have a happy marriage? Why should she have a good job? Alex didn’t have any of that.”

“He didn’t,” she said. “And I’m wondering why now.”

He carried on, speaking as though he were her, in a high, breathless voice. “And that poor son. He’s being brought up by his father. I bet he wouldn’t even recognize his mother!”

“Shut up!” she yelled. “Ignore him, Gemma! I didn’t say that.”

But she had. I knew she had. I thought of Rory in his pajamas that evening, fresh and damp from his bath. He’d hugged me before I left, holding his toy rabbit to his face, rubbing it across his cheek as he always did when he was tired. My eyes prickled. He was my reason for working so hard, and I just wasn’t spending enough time with him. The thought of someone criticizing my relationship with my son made the fear inside me turn to strength.

“Why are you focusing on what she said rather than what you’ve done?” I said softly. “The night of the party, you came in here and you raped me.”

“I did what?” He sounded so shocked I almost believed him.

“You raped me.”





SIXTY-EIGHT


    GEMMA


HIS EYES FLICKERED toward Rachel. “What’s she talking about?”

When she spoke, I knew she was crying. “You did it, David. And you let Alex take the blame.”

He flinched then. “What? I didn’t! I wouldn’t do that!”

I wanted to get out of there. He was going to keep on denying it and I couldn’t stand to hear him. But Rachel was blocking the doorway and she was shouting.

“You did do it! I knew Alex hadn’t done it! And you let him . . .” She almost choked on her tears. “You let Alex take the blame and then he killed himself. And you came round night after night and sympathized with my mum when it was you that had done it all along!”

“I wasn’t here,” he insisted. “I’ve told you!”

And then Rachel turned to me and said, “Gemma, were you wearing a hair bobble, the night of the party?”

I stared at her, confused at the change of subject. “What?”

Her voice was strange. It was as though she was thinking something over and couldn’t quite believe it. “Can you remember?”

“I can remember everything,” I said. “And no, I wasn’t wearing a hair bobble.”

I heard David take a step or two back. I glanced at him; his eyes were fixed on Rachel and he held himself very still.