Obesssion (11 page)

“
You don’t?” He sounded puzzled. Down the line I heard him murmuring to someone else. “It was your idea, Suki. I only booked it because you asked me to. You said Martha really likes cream teas and she’d love it here.”

“
You have Mum with you?” I would definitely have remembered that.

“
Well, duh.” I could hear a smile in his voice. “Don’t fret, we’ll chat until you get here. Don’t take too long.”

He hung up. I stared at the phone, baffled, while my mind turned in little circles. The anxiety now threatened to develop into a headache and I massaged my temples, and flicked again through my calendar, scanning over my emails. No mention of the Rose Garden. No mention of meeting Mum.

Grabbing my jacket and bag, I hurried out of the studio, arriving half an hour later and feeling like a frazzled wreck. As soon as I entered the tearooms, I saw them. Gabe, dark and angelic, his profile looked as though he’d been sculpted. And my mother, thin and nervous, but looking almost relaxed. He had that way with her—she idolised him. I paused to catch my breath, smoothed my hair automatically and made sure my skirt hung straight. Gabe liked me to look well-groomed at all times.

They made a delightful tableau. Gabe leaned forwards, and poured tea from an enormous china pot, while Mum laughed at something he’d said and wagged a reproving finger at him. Probably some faintly risqué joke. Her eyes were warm when she looked up at me, and today she seemed lucid and controlled. I dropped a polite kiss on her cheek and then pecked Gabe on the lips, before sliding into the seat next to him.

“Darling.” He kissed me back. To anyone watching, we’d look like the perfect couple. “We’ve saved you some cakes. Would you prefer Earl Grey or Lady Grey tea?”

“
Lady Grey, please.” I smiled at Mum and tried to dredge up something to say. Gabe beat me to it.

“
I thought we’d talk more to Martha about our plans to have a baby.”

Her fingers tightened on the teacup, but she kept her face blank. I stared at Gabe in an agony of indecision. How to tell him this subject was off limits? He ploughed on.
“I thought it might be nice to talk about names. You know, family names and that, so when we do conceive, we’ve got some ideas to work with.”

We both stared at him, confused. Talking about names? I wasn’t even pregnant and had no intention of getting pregnant. Mum’s brow furrowed, but she inclined her head.
“Well, as you know, our surname is Hubbard. My maiden name was Regan—I always thought that would be a nice first name.”

Gabe chortled as he took a sip of his drink.
“Not Regan. Wasn’t that the name of the little girl in The Exorcist? Likewise, not Damien. My liking for horror movies doesn’t extend to using their names for our kids.”

I picked at a miniature cream scone, uncertain where this conversation was going. Gabe leaned back in his seat.
“If we had a girl, I’d like to use Martha as her middle name. I’ve always liked that as a name.”

I had a sudden, horrible fear, a premonition of where this was heading. I flicked a sideways glance at him. He sprawled casual and relaxed in his seat, sipping his tea, smiling at Mum. She managed a nervous smile in return. And then he dropped his bomb.

“Of course, if we have a boy, I’ve always liked Antony.”

I froze. It was too late. Gabe smiled some more, and turned to include me in his beam. I saw the horror flash across Mum’s face, the way she closed herself down, and retreated back into her shell. I wanted to thump my husband. He
knew
. Somehow, God only knows how, he knew about Antony. My chest tightened. How much did he know?

“
Is there a problem, Martha? Don’t you like that name? Antony?” He sounded puzzled. Never mind thumping him; I’d happily skewer him now on a cake fork.

“
Mum, it’s okay.” I tried to reassure her. I wanted to take away her pain, to prevent her from re-living those memories.

Gabe leaned forward, and placed a sympathetic hand over Mum’s.
“God, I’m sorry. I completely forgot. Suki rarely talks about him.” He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze while my mind churned. I’d
never
mentioned Antony. Or had I? How else could he know? I almost missed his next little comment.

“
Suki is so good with babies, aren’t you darling? Look how well you handle little Mindy.” He flashed me a smile, white teeth gleaming like a shark. “Mindy is my friend’s little girl. You probably saw them at the Christmas lunch. Suki went to see her the other day.”

I
what
? Gabe smiled directly at me, amusement in his eyes.
I didn’t tell him.
I felt a chill down my spine, as though he was running icy hands across my skin. Suppressing a shiver, I raised my eyebrows enquiringly, and played for time. “What was that?”

“
You saw the Craigowans. The other day.” Mum, thank God, was oblivious to the subtext. Gabe looked puzzled, his brows dipped and his head tilted. “You went up to Anglesey, didn’t you?”

The fabled rabbit in the headlights had nothing on me.
Christ
, what did I say? He smiled helpfully. “When you fetched the Chinese banquet, you told me how tired you were after such a long drive.” Another little frown. “I distinctly remember… you mentioned Anita had bought this new highchair that was a complete pain to assemble.”

Yes, I remembered Anita talking about the highchair. We’d been sitting in her kitchen while she fed Mindy. But how could Gabe possibly know about it—let alone that I’d even been there? I’d told him I was in Manchester all day. Didn’t I? My guts twisted with the fear that, yet again, I’d been speaking with no memory of it.

5.6 Gabe

I sat back in my chair and watched Suki’s internal struggles.
Liar
. All she had to do was smile and give in gracefully. Tell me that the visit had slipped her mind. Tell me any-fucking-thing.

I crumbled a piece of scone with my fingers and let my mind wander. I’d always admired cats for their grace and agility, the patience while hunting and the single-minded determination leading them to sit for hours waiting for one glimpse of their prey.

I had guessed that catching an unfaithful wife, in the act, required a similar level of patience and diligence. Luckily, I possessed both attributes. And when I set my mind on winning, there was
nothing
stopping me.

Having Googled the ‘episodes’ that Suki and her online shrink talked about, along with ‘panic attacks’, I now knew which particular chinks to look for in my wife’s armour. Divorce would be an ugly prospect and I shuddered at the thought of the publicity. But there were other ways to bring her to heel without that—far more enticing ways for me to play with her.

And I’d start with Alan’s little spy.

CHAPTER 6

6.1 Josh

I made an appointment with Alan Houghton before I left. Calling into Wilmslow on my way home would be an easy diversion and offered a slim chance of seeing Suki again. Arriving early, I took a sunny window seat in the same café as before, hoping to catch sight of her. I was disappointed.

Alan seemed pleased to see me. “My client was very happy with that piece of work. I can write you a cheque now.” Sitting back in his expensive looking leather chair, he laced his hands across his stomach and smiled at me. “In fact, he’d like to hire you for another job, straight away. Same rates, and a bonus.”

I’d gone to see him with the express intention of telling him what I thought of his client. I was sorely tempted to suggest he stick this job up his arse, but diplomacy prevailed. Schooling my features, I spoke mildly.
“I have to say, I’m not impressed with your client, Alan. Are you aware what he did with the files I sent you?”

A puzzled expression flitted across his face. As I stared, his right hand crept across the desk to pick up his fountain pen. A Mont Blanc, I noted.
“Would you care to elaborate?”

Bloody lawyers. Everything is always couched in Legalese; they never spoke plainly. I held onto my annoyance.

“Your client manipulated some of the images and emailed them—anonymously—to the Craigowans.” I paused, watching the flash of surprise as his eyes widened. “And of course, they assumed that I was responsible.” I leaned forwards, hardening my voice. “I don’t like being put in that position.” I had his full attention now. “So as you can imagine, I’m not overly keen on doing any more work for him. Perhaps you’d be kind enough to explain this.”

Alan played with the pen, rolling it absently between his fingers. His face was a mask.
“Did you consider it might simply have been a prank? He’s a fellow sportsman—they frequently play practical jokes.”

A joke. Was it feasible? I thought back to Anita’s tears, Jon’s threat to call the police. They certainly weren’t treating it as a piece of fun.

“I don’t suppose you’d tell me his name? Your client?”

He just smiled, polite and rueful in response.

“Okay,” I spoke slowly. “This other job he wants, what can you tell me about it?”

His fingers stilled on the pen.
“A honey trap. See how readily his wife can be tempted to stray.”

This was my bread and butter routine. I frowned.
“So this other job was just to see how good I am?”

A shrug in response. I thought about it some more. The client stunk, but clearly this was the only way I’d find his identity. It was time for me to call some shots. I reached out and closed my fingers over the expensive pen.
“I’ll do it, but this time I work with him directly. No more hiding behind you.”

The look he gave me was probably intended to make me shake in my boots, but I just glared right back. He conceded first.
“I figured you’d say that. I’ll give you his mobile number. He’s a friend of the Craigowans—you’ll have heard of him I’m sure. Gabriel Bridgewater.”

My thoughts leapt straight to Suki. I hardly breathed. Was her husband hiring me? I knew he was another hotshot racing driver, but that was all. Alan slid a cardboard document wallet across the desk to me, nudging it with his fingertips. He gestured towards it with the Mont Blanc.
“This gives you all her background, office location, friends and so on. Gabe isn’t in any rush for this, he’d rather you move slowly to gain her trust.”

I flipped the wallet open and joined the dots in my head.
Fuck
. Gabriel was married to Suki Bridgewater.

As her lovely face smiled up at me from a head and shoulders photo, the breath caught in my chest. I hastened to behave normally, my mind racing ahead, my pulse trying to catch up.
Suki
. Married to the man Anita had warned me about, who may be violent. Who had deliberately faked photos of Anita kissing Nathan, and sent them to his supposed friend. I suppressed a shudder. This guy sounded like a right piece of work.

He wanted me to seduce Suki, and then walk away from her.  The girl I’d been dreaming about for years. It seemed like fate giving me a nudge.

6.2 Suki

If I hadn’t known Gabe so well, I’d wonder if he was taking drugs. From icily remote to warm and friendly, his moods had polarized. I’d been twitchy and nervous when we came home from the Rose Garden, but he was absolutely normal and chatted about some sponsorship deal he was chasing.

“
You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

“
Huh?” I’d been staring blankly into the fridge, trying to pretend everything was normal, that this was just another day, when Gabe stepped up behind me.

“
You weren’t listening.” It was a mild accusation, but from the way his hands were roaming across my bum, he didn’t sound annoyed.

“
Sorry,” I spoke automatically. “What do you fancy eating tonight?”

“
Hmmm.” One hand now slid up my thigh, and skimmed underneath my skirt, inching towards my knickers. “Not hungry yet.”

What kind of game was he playing with me? I struggled to remember what he’d said before he distracted me with his wandering hands.
“You said I wouldn’t mind what?”

“
If I fly out to Paris tomorrow for a couple of days. I’m the face of Chanel’s new aftershave. It stands to reason they want the ad to be shot in Paris.” He nuzzled the back of my neck. It sent tingles down my body and I squirmed in his arms. “I’ll be back this weekend, and then off to Belgium next week.” His teeth grazed the edge of my throat and I leaned back against his chest. I’d wanted to rekindle my love life, to make my husband connect with me again, so why didn’t I feel happier?

I snuck a look at my watch. I had a session booked with Babs in half an hour and I couldn’t tell Gabe about
that
. Meanwhile, he had only one thing on his mind and I felt flattered by the attention. We’d gone from a complete drought—practically the Sahara Desert—to sex on a daily basis. Minutes later, my face was shoved into the beanbag again with Gabe fucking me from behind, my skirt pushed up to my hips. No finesse, no foreplay… it didn’t hurt, but it certainly wasn’t exciting. I made all the right noises, and he seemed happy enough. Buried deep inside me, with me pinned to the beanbag beneath him, I felt his teeth at my neck again. My mind wandered. Perhaps he was turning into a vampire?

“
Ouch!” I yelped as I felt him biting me, hard. “What d’you think you’re doing?” He released me with his mouth, grunted as he came, and then slumped forwards onto me, pressing me even further into the beany depths.

“
It’s only a love bite, Suzu. I’ve never given you one before.” Helpless, I had to wait until he moved before I could shift, my hand automatically going to the side of my neck. I winced when I felt the tender, broken skin.

Gabe dropped to the floor while he refastened his jeans.
“Did you never get a hickey from the boys at school?”

“
No, I didn’t.” I felt irrationally annoyed, and reached for some tissues to clean myself before I rearranged my clothes. As I tugged my skirt back into place, I walked over to the bar mirror on the wall, and examined my neck. “Bloody hell, Gabe, it’s a mess. I have to go on air tomorrow. The Producer will have a fit.”

“
Just wear a high-necked jumper.” He gave me his lazy, sexy grin and looked very satisfied with himself. Standing now, he patted the sofa. “Come and sit down, Suki. Why don’t we watch a movie this evening.”

I eyed his neat rack of DVDs. I had no doubt what kind of film he meant.
“Let’s get some food first, and then I need to make some calls, and sort out a few last minute things for the show.”

His eyes glittered. I felt afraid without being able to say why.

“Come here first.” He opened his arms to me and, with some reluctance, I stepped into his embrace, pulled tight against his chest. “Are you okay, Suzu? I worry about you sometimes.”

One strong hand curved around my nape, guiding my head to rest against his collarbone.
“You’ve been so distracted recently. Half the time it’s as though you’re shuffling round on autopilot. I keep wanting to knock on your head and ask if you’re even in there.” He gave a short, embarrassed laugh.

I didn’t know what to say. Apart from when we made love, Gabe seemed to ration his physical affections with me and I realised with a sudden flash of insight why I’d felt so drawn to Joe. Being held by him with no ulterior motive felt so natural, something I’d craved without even knowing it. I took advantage of Gabe and snuggled closer, enjoying the feel of his hand on my hair. All too soon he eased away from me.

“Go and make your calls. I’ll fix us some supper.”

Settling into my office chair, a fresh mug of coffee at my side—brewed by Gabe—I felt comforted by his thoughtfulness. So we had our ups and downs
—what married couple didn’t? And sometimes he could be overbearing, maybe a little controlling, but underneath all that, he loved me. He couldn’t rise to the top of his sport if he had a weak character. I’d been drawn to his strength and confidence, and I could hardly complain about them now. Feeling almost relaxed, I logged into our chatroom and waited for Babs.

She usually followed me a few minutes later and I blew across the top of my coffee as I waited. It was too hot at the moment. Gabe was still experimenting with the new coffee machine he’d recently bought. Still no sign of Babs. I flicked through my Ideas folder, sipped the coffee and pulled a face. Too bitter. He needed to use fewer coffee grounds next time. I was surprised at his purchase. He’d instigated a caffeine ban a few months ago. Maybe he’d relented?

And where was Babs? She was almost ten minutes late. I took a slurp of coffee, enjoying the caffeine jolt, and then logged into my Hotmail account. I’d just check that she hadn’t cancelled.

There was an email from her, sent an hour earlier.

Hi. I waited but you didn’t join me. I’m assuming you’ve been delayed. Mail me when you want to reschedule. Babs.

Taking another sip of the coffee, I stared, puzzled, at the message. I checked my watch. This
was
the time we’d arranged. I sent her an email, wondering if she’d be online now.

Hi Babs. We must have our wires crossed. I’ve just been waiting for you. We arranged the session for 7:00 p.m. today.

To my relief, she replied instantly.

Hi. Had you forgotten? You mailed me asking to bring it forward to 6:00 p.m.. I’m with another client right now, but we can talk tomorrow afternoon if that’s any good for you? Babs

What? I hadn’t mailed her. I clicked on the Sent Mail folder to double-check my original appointment and stared in disbelief at the most recent email there. To Babs. Sent this morning. My hands shook as I clicked to open it, the coffee spilling in hot drips across my fingers.

Hi, Babs. Sorry, but can we bring it forward to 6:00 p.m. instead? Thanks.

When I looked back at my Inbox, there was her reply, confirming the time change. I just hadn’t noticed it buried in a mass of other emails. I looked back at the email I’d sent, and checked the time stamp. Half an hour after my first request for an appointment. My head spun. I leaned back in the chair, my heart beginning to pound, and the noise echoing in my head. I took another sip of coffee, my mouth dry.

I hadn’t sent that email. I’d swear to it. But there was the evidence staring back at me.

6.3 Gabe

Having access to Suki’s email was a godsend, and so was access to Martha’s bathroom cabinet. I had no idea what a gem I’d find in there when I took her home. Diazepam. Lots of little white tranquilizers in a bottle. She’d never miss a few.

I left Suki for half an hour in her office, and then, judging that she’d be feeling a little stressed by now, called her from the bottom of the stairs to ask if she’d like a drink.

Sure enough, she looked pale and anxious when she came down moments later. Her eyes were wide, and her hands played nervously with her hair. She wore an artificial smile.

“
Glass of wine?” I held up the bottle of Merlot I’d just opened and she nodded, clearing her throat before speaking. Yes, she was spooked.

“
Please.” Her hand trembled when she reached out to take it, and she misjudged the distance by a fraction. “
Shit
!” The glass slipped through her fingers, caught on her knuckles and splashed the contents down her front.

“
Hell
.” I made a grab, catching it before it could shatter on the tiled kitchen floor. Glancing back at her, standing frozen, I raised my eyebrows in a silent question.

“
Sorry.” It came out as a whisper. She gazed at her skirt. Cream linen with a bloodlike stain blossoming across it.