Nina Harrington - In Bed with Her Ex

So the past couldn’t be dealt with so easily, she thought. She must tell him everything, help him to understand that she’d had no choice but to save him from harm. But surely it would be easier now?

‘Marcel, listen to me. I must tell you—’

But he couldn’t hear her. He’d leapt up and was pacing about, talking frantically, lost in another world. Or perhaps trapped in a cage.

‘Once I wouldn’t have believed it possible to despise anyone as I’ve despised you. In those days I loved you more than my life, more than—’ He stopped and a violent tremor went through him. ‘Never mind that,’ he said harshly.

‘I guess you don’t want to remember that we loved each other.’

‘I said never mind,’ he shouted. ‘And don’t talk about “each other”. There was no love on your side, or you could never have done what you did.’

‘You don’t know what I did,’ she cried.

‘I know that I lay for days in the hospital, longing to see you. I was delirious, dreaming of you, certain that the next time I opened my eyes you’d be there. But you never were.

‘I called your mobile phone but it was always switched off. The phone in your apartment was never answered. Tell me, Cassie, didn’t you ever wonder why I vanished so suddenly? You never wanted to ask a single question?’

She stared. ‘But I knew what had happened, that you’d had an accident and were in hospital. I told you that in my letter.’

‘What letter?’

‘I wrote, telling you everything, begging you to understand that it wasn’t my fault. I put it through your door—I was sure you’d find it when you came home. Oh heavens! Do you mean—?’

‘I never read any letter from you,’ he said, and she was too distracted to notice how carefully he chose his words.

‘Then you never knew that I was forced to leave you—I had no choice.’

He made a sound of impatience. ‘Don’t tell me things that a child couldn’t believe. Of course there was a choice.’

‘Not if I wanted you to live,’ she cried. ‘He said he’d kill you.’

‘He? Who?’

‘Jake Simpson.’

‘Who the hell—?’

‘I’d never heard of him either. He was a crook who knew how to keep his head down. People did what he wanted because they were scared of him. I wasn’t scared at first. When he said he wanted me I told him to clear off. You were away at the time. I was going to tell you when you got home, but you had the accident. Only it wasn’t an accident. Jake arranged it to warn me. He showed me a picture of you in hospital and said you’d die if I didn’t drop you and turn to him. I couldn’t even tell you what had happened because if I tried to visit you he’d know, and you’d have another “accident”.

‘I went with him because I had to. I didn’t dare approach you, but I couldn’t endure thinking of you believing that I’d played you false. In the end I wrote a letter and slipped it through your letter box. Obviously you never got it. Perhaps you’d already left by then. Oh, if only you could have read it. We’d still have been apart, but you’d have known that I didn’t betray you, that I was forced to do what I did, and perhaps you wouldn’t have hated me.’

She looked at him, standing quite still in the shadows.

‘Or maybe you’d have hated me anyway. All these years—’

‘Stop,’ he said harshly. ‘Don’t say any more.’

‘No, well, I guess there’s no more to say. If I could turn back the clock I’d put that letter into your hands and make you read it and then perhaps I wouldn’t have been such a monster in your heart—’

‘I said stop!’ he shouted.

She came to a sudden resolution. Reaching up from where she was sitting on the bed, she took his hand and urged him down until he was sitting beside her.

‘You don’t know whether to believe me or not, do you? Everything about us is different—except for one thing. Very well. If that’s the only way I can make you listen to me, then that’s the way I’ll take.’

‘Meaning?’

‘You’ve implied that I’m a bad woman who’ll use her physical charms to get her way with you. Well, maybe you’re right. After all, I know now that I can do it, don’t I?’

‘What are you saying?’

‘That I’ll do what I have to. Maybe you know me better than I know myself. Perhaps I really am that unscrupulous. Maybe I’ll enjoy it. Maybe we both will.’

As she spoke she was touching his face. She knew she was taking a huge risk, but there was no other way. At all costs she would soften him, drive the hostility from his eyes.

To her relief she could feel him softening, feel the hostile tension drain from him, replaced by a different kind of tension.

‘Hold me,’ she whispered.

He did so, reaching for her, drawing her down to stretch out on the bed, or letting her draw him down. Neither of them really knew.

Their first encounter had been entirely sexual. This one was on a different plane. No words were spoken, but none were needed. In each other’s arms they seemed to find again the things that had been missing the first time—sweetness, warmth, the joy of the heart.

Afterwards they held each other with gentle hands.

‘We’ll get there,’ she promised. ‘We’ll find a way, my darling, I promise we will.’

He didn’t reply, and she suddenly became aware that his breathing was deep and steady. She turned her head, the better to see his face, and gave a tender smile as she saw him sunk in sleep.

It had always been this way, she remembered. He would love her with all the power and vigour of a great man, then fall asleep like a child.

‘That’s right, you sleep,’ she murmured. ‘Sleep and I’ll take care of everything.’

Slowly her smile changed. Now it was one of triumph.

In the twilight world that came just before awakening she relived a dream. So many times she’d fallen asleep in his arms, knowing that he would still be there in the morning. Sometimes she’d opened her eyes to find him looking down at her adoringly. At other times he would be sunk in sleep, but always reaching for her, even if only with his fingertips. It was as though he could only relax with the assurance of her presence.

And me, she thought hazily, knowing he would be there meant that life was good. She opened her eyes. She was alone. He was gone.

She sat up, looking around frantically, certain that there was some mistake. The room was empty. Hurrying out of bed, she searched all the rooms but there was no sign of him. Marcel had stolen away while she slept.

But he’d vowed to keep her a prisoner. The outer door would be locked.

It wasn’t. It yielded at once and she found herself looking out into an empty corridor. Something about the silence was frightening.

She slammed the door and leaned back against it, refusing to believe that this could have happened. Last night they’d found each other again, not totally but enough for hope. They should have spent today talking, repairing the past. Instead he’d walked out.

But he might have fled through caution, she thought. Don’t judge him until you’ve spoken to him.

She dressed carefully. Cassie or Mrs Henshaw today?

Finally she settled on a mixture, restrained clothing as befitted her job, but with her hair flowing freely. He would understand. A quick breakfast and she was ready to face whatever the challenge was.

The door to Marcel’s apartment was opened by a middle-aged woman with a friendly face.

‘Bonjour. I am Vera, Marcel’s secretary. He has left me instructions to be of service to you.’

‘Left you—? Isn’t he here?’

‘He had to leave suddenly. For what reason he did not say. I’m a little surprised because he has so much to do, and he didn’t even tell me where he was going.’