The Girl I Used to Be(88)

“What about lip gloss?” she said. “When you were at the party, when you were eighteen, did you wear lip gloss?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” said David.

“Yes, I wore lip gloss,” I said. “Why?”

“Did you take it with you to the party?”

I nodded.

“Did you take it home with you?”

I stared at her. “No. I didn’t. I must have lost it.”

Her face was pale and her hair was spiked with sweat. “Was it raspberry ripple? Or blackberry? Or maybe vanilla fudge?”

At her words, I felt a kaleidoscope of memories form into shape. I remembered dipping my finger into the little pot of raspberry ripple lip gloss as our taxi approached Alex’s house. Lauren had dipped her finger into it, too, and we’d smeared it over our lips and giggled, before going into the party. I’d slipped it into my pocket and hadn’t thought of it from that day to this.

“It was raspberry ripple,” I whispered. “How did you know?”

“I found it, didn’t I?” she said to David in a conversational tone. “There was a pile of stuff in an old bag of yours. It looked like a load of junk. That’s what you told me it was, didn’t you? You said an ex-girlfriend had borrowed your bag and left it all behind. You said you’d throw it away, but you didn’t, did you? Didn’t you think I’d check?” Her face was pink with strain, but she stared him straight in the eye.

David was breathing hard and fast and staring at her so fiercely I took a step back. I knew something was going to happen.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” she said. “Those things . . . what are they, something from each girl?”

A muscle moved in his jaw. I was on high alert now.

“They looked like trash, but they were precious to you, weren’t they? They were significant. Did you keep them to remember them by?”

“You’re insane,” he said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Funny,” she said. “Because you made enough effort to hide them the second time.” He stared at her and she said, “You really need to think twice before you let your wife borrow your car. You lent it to me last night without even thinking. You were so keen that I should go out and buy you some whiskey that you completely fell for it when I said my car was out of petrol.”

His jaw was tight, his eyes on her.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t look in the boot?” There was a tense silence and she said, “Underneath the spare tire? Odd place to put things that mean nothing to you.” She glanced at me. “Gemma, there were loads of them.”

And then he broke. He reared back and suddenly he was taller. Broader. I steeled myself and faced him head-on.

Here it comes. Here it comes.

“You stupid bitch,” he said to Rachel. “She wasn’t even awake. All that fuss, calling the police, when she was asleep the whole time.”

I nodded, once, and moved into his view. “And how do you know that?”

“You,” he sneered. I steeled myself. “You were so drunk. Lying there with your skirt up round your waist. Anyone could have had you. You pathetic bitch. If you didn’t want it, you shouldn’t have flaunted it.”

And there it was. The last fifteen years of my life had been a lie.





SIXTY-NINE


    RACHEL


FOR A MOMENT I don’t think either Gemma or I could speak. The sound of him admitting what he’d done resonated in the air, and for that moment all was still. And then my body responded.

I pushed the door wide open.

David stood, poised for action, in the middle of the room. He was staring at Gemma—I think he thought she was his main threat.

He was wrong.

I leaped into the air and slapped him hard across the face. He swore and swung away from me. He’d taken his eyes off Gemma and I could see her standing still, staring at him.

He turned toward her again.

Big mistake.

I moved closer and hit him again. A loud slap resonated in the room. At the same time, Gemma shouted, “You bastard!”

My eyes met hers and in that moment we were united. His reign over us was about to end; I didn’t know how and neither did she, I think, but that look between us decided it.

We had had enough.

“It was so long ago, Rachel,” he said, attempting a beseeching look. He put his hand out to me. I think he intended to caress me. “It meant nothing.”

I relaxed and he saw it and smiled. Then I leaped onto Alex’s bed, using the wooden frame as a lever to push myself off, just as I used to when Alex and I played Pirates, that game we played when we were kids, where we weren’t allowed to touch the ground. My body must have kept the memory of that move he taught me all those years ago just for this moment, as I kicked and spun around and threw myself as hard as I could against David.

He staggered, and just as he started to right himself, I kicked out again, catching his shoulder. He crashed to the ground and I leaped on top of him, hitting him over and over again.

All I could think of was Alex and my mother and the way my dad had left, without even saying good-bye. I thought of the house, full of memories of them all. And now this memory would override it; that my own husband had raped Gemma and made everyone think his friend, my brother, had done it.