Fifty Days of Sin (22 page)

“Justine, don’t go.” He follows
me down the stairs. “Please, we can’t let this ruin
everything.”

“You’ve already ruined
everything, Adam,” I accuse as I run down to the ground floor,
pulling my coat off the peg by the front door and picking up my
handbag. He’s got hold of my arm again and forces me round to look
in his face.

“Don’t just run out on me
because you’re angry.” His expression is hard. “You can’t leave
me.”

“Just watch me, Adam. Let me go
– don’t touch me. I don’t want to see you.” I shake off his grip
and then I’m out of the door, stamping out of his driveway.

“Justine, come back. You can’t
stand around alone on the street at night. At least come inside and
I’ll call you a cab.”

“Just leave me alone, Adam. I’ll
phone for a cab out here.” I get out to the pavement outside his
house and pull out my mobile, dialling a number for a local firm.
He keeps the door open, watching me, and thankfully the man who
answers the phone promises a taxi will arrive within ten minutes. I
button my coat and pull the collar around my throat, shivering
despite the warmth of the night.

Standing waiting, I’m still
crying tears of humiliation and hurt, and my body feels like a
block of ice. I deliberately face the other way until I hear the
front door shut. So he’s given up on me. I keep checking my watch
and then as I glance round I see that he’s looking out of the
window to watch over me and check that I’m safe. I turn back away
from him again immediately, not wanting him to see. Eventually,
after what seems like an age, the taxi pulls up. I don’t care what
the driver thinks of my tear stained face and dishevelled
appearance. I give him the direction to my house and sit back,
exhausted, as he pulls away from the kerb and starts on my journey
home, out of Adam’s life.

Saturday, 16 June

ALL I WANT TO DO IS wrap myself
in my duvet and block out the world. If a big black pit were to
open up underneath me and swallow me whole, I feel low enough to
welcome the oblivion it would bring.

Somehow I dragged myself through
the rest of the working week, and crawled back into my hole on
Friday night, completely drained. I’ve been making myself eat only
because I know I have to – my appetite has been at rock bottom
along with everything else. But I’ve not had the energy to cook, so
the remains of several part-eaten takeaways are currently
languishing in my dustbin.

The corset Adam gave me is
shoved in the corner of my wardrobe in a plastic bag. I can’t help
wondering if Adam’s done the same with the bra I inadvertently left
on his bedroom floor. But when I think of his bedroom, I think of
Natasha, and the degrading position she saw me in when she walked
into the room, and all I can do is hang my head in shame, trying to
forget.

Now, with Friday finally behind
me, I was expecting a weekend of solitude, an opportunity to shut
out the outside world and just get myself through the days on my
own. But if I thought I could hide forever, I was wrong. Now Kathy
is here, eliciting the first smile I’ve managed in nearly a
week.

“I’m so glad you came over,” I
tell her. We’ve been sat together on the sofa talking like this for
over an hour already. “I didn’t think anything could help, but it’s
always good to see you. Even today.”

“I’m just worried about you,”
she tells me, her eyes full of anxiety. “And I know you don’t want
to tell me about what happened between you and Adam, but it’s hard
to give you advice when I don’t know what you argued about.”

“Believe me, you don’t want me
to tell you.” I shake my head. “You know, do you ever get annoyed
with people when they exaggerate?” I ask. “Saying their heart’s
broken. They’re devastated. Their world’s shattered. I used to
listen to people say that kind of thing and think, what rubbish
you’re talking. Your heart’s not broken, it’s still beating. Your
world’s not shattered, you’re just really upset. But now I know how
it feels. I really am devastated, Kathy. I don’t know what I’m
going to do without Adam.”

“Is it really the end for you
two then?” She looks almost as despondent as I feel. “Can’t you
talk things through?”

“I don’t know,” I reply,
genuinely torn. “First of all, he hasn’t been in touch, so I don’t
even know if he wants to talk things through. Maybe it’s all over
for him. Oh, I was so stupid, not telling him that I’d stopped
seeing Edward and Michael. But that’s not really what we argued
about. I don’t even know if I could go back now after what
happened. Oh, God, Kathy, it was so awful.” My body starts to heave
convulsively again as I stifle more sobs, and Kathy’s arms are
around me, cradling me and pulling me into her shoulder to
weep.

I’ve told her that Adam was
seeing another woman, a beautiful petite blonde, but spared her the
grisly details. It’s ironic that only the day before the scene of
my humiliation in Adam’s bedroom, Kathy advised me to tell him he
was the only one I was seeing now. If only I’d been open and honest
with him earlier, the whole thing would never have happened.

“I’m going to make you a cup of
tea,” says Kathy after I’ve calmed down and pulled away from her.
“With extra sugar.” I smile weakly in acquiescence and she stands
up and goes to the kitchen. I know how lucky I am to have such a
good friend as Kathy. Not many friends would be so patient, never
once saying ‘I told you so’ or probing me for information that I
don’t want to give. One thing is for sure – I don’t want anyone
ever to know what happened last Tuesday night.

“Here,” she says, returning with
two hot mugs of tea and a worried smile. “Is that enough milk for
you?”

“It looks fine. Thanks.” There’s
a message tone on my phone and I pick it up off the coffee table
and take a look.

“Kathy, it’s Adam.” I’m so
nervous, looking at the unopened text, that I feel a wave of
nausea.

“Are you going to read it?” she
asks. “I’ll just be back in a minute, okay? I’m just going to your
bathroom.”

She tactfully disappears as I
stare at the screen. Heart thumping, I hit ‘open’.

Hi Justine. I’m missing you so
badly. I wish I could turn back time and go back to before Tuesday
night. I’m so sorry about what I did and all I want is to see you
again and talk things over. We could meet up somewhere neutral if
you like. Would you meet me this afternoon? Adam

I’m still staring at the screen
when Kathy comes back. I show her the text.

“Do you want to see him,
Justine?”

“Yes. No. Yes. I don’t
know.”

“You look to me like you’re lost
without him,” she says gently. “Surely there can’t be any harm in
talking?”

I shut my eyes and put my head
in my hands. Images of the blonde girl in the corset keep replaying
in my mind. I can see every detail, her pretty face which I’d like
to tear with my nails, the slutty red underwear, that whip she was
carrying. And I can’t help picturing what I must have looked like
to her, half-naked and exposed on Adam’s bed.

Then I think of Adam and the
times we had before that awful night. The lovely meal we shared
just hours before my world fell apart. His beautiful grey eyes, the
way that dimple appears in his cheek when he smiles his gorgeous
smile. The incredible sex, the eroticism of being restrained and
punished. The soft caresses and the warmth of being held in his
strong arms. Oh, how I miss him.

“No,” I concede. “There can’t be
any harm in talking.”

I compose a text back to Adam
and show it to Kathy before I hit ‘send’. Almost as soon as it’s
gone, I get a reply, and it’s all arranged. I’m meeting him at two
o’clock in the Crooked Pot pub down the road. It’s not somewhere I
usually go, but it’s very close to my house so I can bolt back home
if necessary, and besides, I don’t want to meet anyone I know.

Kathy stays for a little while
but then, sensing that I need some time to compose myself before I
see him, she leaves, having extracted a promise to shower and
change and eat some lunch. On the doorstep, she envelops me in a
big hug.

“I hope it all goes okay with
him,” she says, her eyes crinkling at the corners with concern.

“Thanks, Kathy,” I tell her as
she leaves and climbs into her car. “I don’t know what I’d do
without you.”

She drives off with a little
wave and I go back indoors, then, remembering my promise, I head to
the shower, getting washed and dried and putting on some clean
clothes. Dully, I reflect that I’ve always made an effort to pick
out my most flattering outfits when I’ve seen Adam before but today
I just don’t have the energy to even think about it. So I pull on
in a worn pair of cropped jeans and an old vest top.

I apply the hairdryer to my mass
of long hair just to get it dry, not worrying about the style at
all. After a short while I give up, knowing I’ve got a while until
I see him, so it can finish drying on its own in this hot weather.
I take one look at my makeup bag and can’t even face it. Instead I
go downstairs and wander into the kitchen.

Lunch – the other thing I
promised Kathy. I open the fridge and find very little. But at
least I have bread and milk, as she brought some round this
morning, correctly guessing that I wouldn’t be looking after myself
properly. I spread some low fat spread on a slice of bread and eat
it standing up in the kitchen, then drink a glass of water. That’s
not good enough – Kathy wouldn’t approve. I find a small piece of
cheese and eat it, then get a slightly shrivelled apple out of the
fruit bowl. I take a few bites and then give up, throwing the rest
in the bin. That will do. At least I’ve had carbs, protein and some
fruit.

I look at my watch: still only a
quarter past twelve, and the pub where I’m meeting Adam is only a
ten minute walk away. I don’t know if I want to text him back and
tell him I’ve changed my mind, or just see him right now and get it
over with. Why didn’t we agree to meet earlier? What am I going to
do for an hour and three-quarters?

I sit on the sofa and pick up
the remote, flicking through the TV channels, but nothing can
divert me right now. I switch it off again, disheartened, and pick
up my phone to have a look through my friends’ Facebook posts.
Hannah posted this morning that she’s glad it’s so sunny as she’s
heading to a National Trust property called Waddesdon Manor to meet
friends for a picnic. Melanie is looking forward to a big night out
with other single friends and keeping her fingers crossed that she
meets a nice man out on the town. George’s wife Christine, who sent
me a friend request straight away after I met her in London, is
going on a spending spree to kit out the nursery for their new
arrival.

I type in a post. I know Adam
won’t see it as he hates Facebook, so what I write won’t be there
for him to see. “Thanks, Kathy, for coming over. I’ve changed and
eaten some lunch like I promised you and I am definitely keeping my
date. I’ll let you know how I got on later. I feel very lucky to
have such a great friend.”

Then I look at my watch again.
Only ten minutes to one. My stomach is in knots but I have to
wait.

Eventually the hands of my watch
drag themselves round until they say twenty minutes to two. That’s
long enough, I decide, so I shove my feet into my sandals and pick
up my bag.

Then I’m out of the door. I put
on my sunglasses to block out the sun. It seems the wrong day for
it to be shining so brightly when I’m so low. At least that
desultory lunch has stopped me from feeling completely weak and
drained.

But my head is awhirl with
speculation about what’s going to happen when I see Adam.

So I don’t see the car pull up
beside me.

It all happens so fast, I hardly
know what’s hit me. I just about have time to gasp for air before a
hand clamps down firmly over my mouth and I’m bundled into the back
of the green Volkswagen. Strong hands pin me down. Hands that have
touched me before.

“Michael! No!” I manage to
scream before he binds some fabric tightly around my mouth, gagging
me. I’m tearing at him with my hands, eyes wide with fear, looking
up at the face of my former lover. It’s contorted with grim effort
and determination, hard and frightening. He looks so different.

He grabs my wrists to defend
himself from my onslaught. I’m still fighting as hard as I can but
Michael is stronger than me. Isn’t there anyone around watching
what’s going on, I ask myself frantically? Surely he can’t do this
in broad daylight, won’t someone have heard my scream, seen Michael
grab me, and call the police?

Then with a sickening jolt he
forces me over onto my front and pulls my hands behind my back. He
ties them too, firmly, and I hear the noise of the tape as he pulls
it off the reel to truss me up like a chicken, restraining my
ankles too. I’m bucking and trying as hard as I can to thrash
about, making as much noise as possible through the gag, but I’ve
got little ability to move with my wrists and ankles restrained,
and now the door has slammed shut behind me.

I hear the engine start up and
the car pull away and I lie still, unable to move enough to attempt
an escape. I’m afraid and panting from the failed effort to fight
Michael off. Where the hell is he going to take me?

And what will happen to me when
we get there?

Saturday, 16 June

THE CAR JOURNEY HAS HARDLY
STARTED when Michael switches off the engine. I crane my head to
see as he reaches over to the front passenger seat. He’s got my
handbag there and he’s searching in it. Then I hear a jangling
sound. He’s got my front door keys.

I strain to look out of the
window and realise that I think I recognise the tree I can see
through the glass. Michael’s brought me to my own house.

Then he gets out and opens the
rear door of the car that’s near my feet. Painfully, he pulls away
the tape on my ankles with a sudden movement and I cry out
underneath the gag. But I feel a tiny stab of relief as I am able
to move my legs once more. Is he going to release my hands too?