Behind A Twisted Smile (Dark Minds Book 2) (2 page)

“I should hope not. By the way, does your family know you slept with Evie’s husband? Your brother-in-law?”

“What did you say?” I whispered, the words catching in my throat.

“You heard. Oh, it doesn’t say so explicitly in your novel, but any idiot can work it out.”

My blood ran icily cold through my veins. “I didn’t sleep wi—” I stopped as I got a grip on myself. What the hell was I doing explaining to this moron?

“Go. Just go.”

“You don’t mean it, Moya.”

“I do. Get out.”

He leant towards me, his eyes dark cold slits, and I could feel his hot breath drift across my face. “It’s your loss, honeybun.”

After he had gone, I shot the bolts across my door, threw his empty wine glass into the rubbish bin and poured myself a large measure. A thousand emotions were racing through me. I felt shaky and nauseous.

What a weirdo. I did a quick estimation: we had spent barely three weeks together, not including the few times he had come to me for treatment for a bad shoulder. Hardly time to cement a relationship. And we had sex twice. I shuddered. The first time I had drunk too much and the second…well, I couldn’t recall much about that time either, except it certainly hadn’t knocked my socks off.

I first met Martyn when I went diving with the group of people with whom I had taken my certified PADI diving course. I noticed him as soon as we were changing into our dive gear and asked Patrick, one of the group members, who he was. Apparently, Martyn had trained with another group prior to our course and wanted a refresher day, so he tagged along with us. We got chatting over lunch, and when he asked what I did for a living, Patrick filled him in. I remembered him saying at the time that Martyn and I were in a similar line of work—I helped to heal injuries using a holistic approach, including massage, and he was a qualified nurse. Vaguely similar, I supposed, as we helped people get better.

A few days later, I received a phone call, and Martyn explained how his shoulder felt stiff and achy after a day of diving. He said he wondered if it was from lifting the tank bottles into the club’s van.

I was careful whom I treated, generally, and most times my clients came to me as referrals from friends. As Patrick knew Martyn, I thought treating him would be okay. And so it was. The shoulder healed after four consultations, and a grateful Martyn took me out to dinner. After that, we saw each other a few times, but it was nothing like the relationship he implied.

After the wine, I took a long bath and calmed down, thanking my lucky stars I had got rid of him.

Chapter 2

Three weeks later I had almost forgotten about Martyn. I say almost, because I had until I received a text from him. At least, I assumed it was from Martyn. I didn’t recognise the number, but I was tired and sleepy at the time. The text came in late one night, and I read it before thinking twice about it. His message was short:
I loved making you smile
. That was it, nothing more. No more apologies or pleas for us to get back together. I shook my head in disbelief. He really knew how to make a meal out of nothing. What a jerk. I ignored it.

My appointment diary was almost full; my name was certainly getting around, and what free time I had was spent either at the gym or pounding the grass in our local parkland. The half-marathon was due to take place the following Sunday, and I felt confident I had trained enough to notch up a new personal best.

My friend, Faye, was due back from Brussels and I was looking forward to picking up our friendship again. Faye and I had grown up together. We went to the same schools, shared dates as foursomes and practically lived as sisters until she went away to college and qualified as a translator. She now held some lofty job in Brussels, working for the European Commission, and consequently, our time together had lessened. Not only did Faye work abroad most of the week, but she had a full-time boyfriend, who wanted to get married the following spring. Of course, I didn’t mind Simon taking precedence over me, but Faye insisted we always had at least one girly evening together most weeks she was at home.

She had a younger sister, Kate, but she was off on some high-flying job in New York, and we had no idea when she would be home. Faye said she thought Christmas might have enticed her away from the bright lights and expensive hot spots of Manhattan. I hoped she was right; although we shared most things, I knew Faye missed her little sis.

I knew Faye would get in touch with me as soon as she arrived back in England, and that evening when the phone rang, I assumed it was her.

I glanced at my mobile; I saw instead it was my elder sister, Evie. I vaguely appreciated I hadn’t seen or spoken to her for a few weeks and put it down to me being ultra busy. Hopefully, her call wasn’t going to be a scolding for ignoring her or the rest of our family. Not that could she talk—she was a scatterbrain at the best of times. How she managed to hold down a responsible nursing job often puzzled me.

“Hi, Evie. How are you?”

“Fine thanks. You?”

“Yeah, good. I thought you might be Faye, actually, as she’s due back anytime. Have you seen Mum lately?”

“Yesterday, and before you ask, she’s okay. As scatty as ever and spends too much time reading The Daily Mail for her own good, but I suppose it’s harmless enough if she doesn’t believe all the crap they print.”

We both laughed. Mum
was
scatty, known to devour the paper on a daily basis, and often regaled us with some of the pithier stories from its pages.

It seemed Evie was in a good mood that evening. She and I got on okay, despite her being a few years older. We rarely met socially apart from at Mum’s or on the odd occasion at Angela’s, our younger sister. Evie was a part-time nurse at our local general hospital, and I always considered her to be a trifle bossy. It couldn’t have been easy being a nursing sister
and
the eldest of four girls. Evie’s phone call reminded me of Martyn’s accusations just before I threw him out, and I felt my cheeks glow in embarrassment. He had no right to say such things, especially without foundation. Evie and her husband had divorced long ago, and I certainly hadn’t been the catalyst.

“So what’s up? Where are you?” I asked. Mum obviously wasn’t the reason she was calling, or she would have already said so.

“At home. I wondered if you fancied getting together this Saturday. I know it’s short notice, but we haven’t seen each other for ages.”

“True. Ah, I’m in a race this Saturday. In the morning at eleven. What did you have in mind?”

“That’s okay. Where are you running? I could come and watch the start, take a walk and then meet you after you finish, if you like.”

“Windsor, actually. The race starts and finishes in Windsor Great Park.”

There was a pause, and I thought I caught a whisper from Evie, as if she was speaking to someone else in the room. She came back to me a few seconds later.

“That’s nice. I love Windsor Park. How about we meet after the finish then and go for a picnic lunch. I’ll organise everything. If I remember, you’ll be famished and will need to take in a load of calories straight after.”

We agreed, and Evie said she would sort out a restaurant for later that evening. I suggested we meet in the car park near the race finish at one thirty if I didn’t see her before then.

“There’ll be loads of people, and we might miss each other otherwise,” I explained.

***

Saturday was cool and crisp. There was a more definite autumnal nip in the air but no hint of rain. Perfect conditions in which to run a race.

At the line-up, I recognised other runners I had raced against on other occasions; some I had beaten, others were more experienced and faster than me. It didn’t matter—I wasn’t there to win. I just wanted to be as fit as I could be, be in control of my life and better my last time.

I wondered if Evie had arrived in time to watch the start. I doubted it, as my elder sister disliked most forms of exercise. I retied my shoelaces, adjusted my sweat band, checked I still had my entrance number pinned to my vest and ensured I had enough water in my camel-pack to avoid stopping at the feed stations. I stopped myself going to the loo for the fifth time…knowing the reason was only nerves.

As I glanced at the crowd lining the start line, I caught a glimpse of a tall dark-haired man before he turned away and disappeared into the mass of people assembled for the start—just a glimpse. No, it couldn’t be. My mind was playing tricks. Why would
he
be here?

Within seconds, I forgot my uncomfortable feeling, the gun fired, and we were off.

***

One hour seventeen minutes! I managed a personal best, and I considered it pretty good for someone who had taken up long-distance running later in life. A minute later, elated and clutching my medal in my hand, I congratulated everyone else around me. My legs felt good if a trifle wobbly. I was a little tired but nothing a good hot soak and some gentle exercise later wouldn’t put right.

There was no sign of Evie, although I had a good hard search in the crowds lining the road where the runners were coming home in dribs and drabs. I grabbed a bottle of water from the refreshment stand and made my way to the car park. I had taken a change of clothes with me and after finding the ladies’ facilities, I rinsed my face and hands before changing out of my running gear and into a fresh pair of jeans, shirt and sweater.

A smear of lippy, a quick brush of my short blonde hair, and I was ready to meet Evie. Years ago, when she and I were still kids, we were a lot closer. But I suppose we each had a different outlook on life, and we had drifted apart since then.

Evie was the eldest of us four girls; then it was me, then Angela, who was married, and finally Darcy, the baby of the family bringing up the rear. Mum had us three years apart, except for Darcy. She was a complete surprise to everyone, especially Mum. She was now sixteen years old, twenty-one years younger than me.

Sadly, Dad passed away eight years earlier, and Mum still hadn’t really got over his death. Losing a husband to a sudden heart attack must have been hard, and bringing up young Darcy by herself couldn’t have helped. I loved my youngest sister despite her being a regular little baggage at times. Looking back, I recalled I was exactly the same at her age, and I didn’t envy Mum one bit. Darcy was bright, headstrong and rebellious and probably missed a father’s strong governing hand.

Dad left Mum pretty well off. Apart from the family sweet-factory business, of which he had made her a major shareholder, he made certain he was well insured. On his death, she qualified for a good pension as his spouse. We three older girls didn’t worry that she should want for anything; but Dad’s passing left her lonely, and we tried hard to help fill that gap.

Apart from using the dividends Mum received from the company shares, she wasn’t particularly interested in the factory and left the running to Angela. It was strange, really. Out of four daughters, none of us was involved in the business except Angela; it was she who possessed the business acumen.  Perhaps if our parents had raised sons it might have been different.

I dumped my kit bag in my car and started walking back towards the race finish; I hadn’t gone more than a few yards when I spied Evie walking towards me. Even from a distance I could tell there was something different about her. As we drew nearer, I realised what it was. She looked slimmer.

Evie had always been what you might call chubby, and her roundness had spilled over into her teens. Since then, she had a permanent battle on her hands until, after trying every diet on the planet, she eventually gave in. She admitted to being a size sixteen or eighteen with wide hips and full fleshy breasts. The slim-line dresses in a size twelve or fourteen would always evade her.

That day though, it appeared she might have found a diet which suited her. Up close, I stopped and smiled as I noticed the other changes. Her hair was naturally almost the same colour as mine—a little darker—and she generally wore it long, invariably with an Alice band or up in a bun for work.

She must have been to the hairdresser, as it looked blonder, and I was quite shocked to see that it had been cut and styled.

“Wow! Evie, your hair! I can’t remember the last time you had it done. And am I imagining it, or have you lost weight too? You look fantastic!”

She touched her hair with one hand and gave me a self-conscious grin. “I know. It was about time. I thought forty was a bit old for really long hair, and since I’ve had it done, I realised what a pain it’s been all this time. So now, I just wash it, blow dry and flick up the ends. Easy-peasy, and as for the weight, I’ve been following a great diet. I’ve lost nearly half a stone in just over two weeks.”

Evie had lovely bone structure, and with the weight loss she looked pretty stunning. My gaze travelled from her bright head down to her toes. She had splashed out on some new togs too: dark-grey pixie boots peeped out beneath a pair of expensive-looking dark-blue linen trousers. She was wearing a pale-grey silk shirt and a sapphire-blue woollen jacket.

“Honestly, you do look good. But be careful with the dieting. Crash diets don’t usually work.” I wasn’t lying, and as I took the new Evie look in, I noticed something else. Her eyes sparkled, and she had a definite spring in her step. I wondered what caused it. Perhaps she had been given a pay rise or even a change of employment; her new clothes were definitely not bought from one of the cheap stores in town.