The Girl With No Past (34 page)

‘Yes, I do. That’s the truth. I’m not the liar here, Leah.’

‘And your girlfriend? Pippa? Does she even exist?’ If I could just keep him talking I could stall the inevitable.

He threw his head back and laughed. ‘Good old Pippa. Course she exists! She’s my pet Labrador.’ He grimaced. ‘How dumb do you feel now, you fucked up bitch?’

‘A lie then.’

He leaned even further forward. ‘No, I didn’t lie. You made an assumption so I went along with it. Like I said, this has all been too easy.’

Then something occurred to me. The emails. At least three of them had been sent while I was with Ben. Was there someone else involved? I fired the question at him and cowered at his laugh.

‘I put a time delay on those emails. Easy to do. I had to have your complete trust, so needed you to be sure I couldn’t be involved.’

He needn’t have bothered. I had trusted Ben from the very beginning; it had never crossed my mind that he could be involved.

‘And breaking into my flat? I was on the phone to you when someone was pounding on my door. How did you do that?’

‘Oh, Leah, it’s really not hard to pay some delinquent kids to cause a bit of trouble.’

I risked smiling then. What did I have to lose? ‘Aren’t you overlooking something?’

‘Really? What’s that?’

‘Karma. Who gets to punish you for doing this to me?’

They were the last words to leave my mouth before I was knocked senseless and blackness enveloped me.

When I came around I was alone. There was no sign of Ben, and no noise anywhere. I shifted myself up, wincing at the pain throbbing through my whole body. I needed to get out of there.

But then he appeared, a silhouette in the bathroom doorway, gradually coming into focus. ‘Miss me?’ he asked, pulling on his coat. ‘I’m afraid I have to go out for a bit, but you’ll be fine, won’t you? Actually, tell you what. Don’t answer that. Don’t even speak. This will help.’ He walked towards me and leaned over, pressing masking tape I hadn’t seen in his hand across my mouth. I struggled for breath. ‘Relax,’ he said. ‘Breathe through your nose.’

At the door, he turned back to me. ‘By the way, don’t get any ideas, I’ve got this.’ He waved my mobile phone at me. ‘I charged your phone and you’ve had a few missed calls. Dr Redfield. Shame you won’t get to speak to her, I’m guessing if she’s a doctor it’s probably important.’

And then he left, closing the door and shrouding the room in darkness. It must have still been daylight outside but the curtains were so thick that no light could pass through them.

Letting my head flop back to the floor, I thought about Mum and how I would never see her again.

THIRTY-ONE

It’s November but the sun is shining brightly and I’m sweating underneath four layers of clothes.

I’m in the university bookshop and I spot Becky by the counter, talking to the cashier. She’s okay. I don’t really talk to her that much, but we’re doing the same degree and have chosen most of the same modules. I like the fact that she’s quiet and doesn’t ask me loads of personal questions. When we do talk, it’s only about our studies or lecturers.

She turns around and sees me looking at her, waving before turning back to the cashier, embarrassed. I stay where I am and make no move to head over to her. As nice as she is, I don’t feel like talking. I just want to buy my books, go to my room and read.

I pull out my book list, which already has half the titles crossed off because I’m buying each one as soon as I can, even if I don’t need all of them now. We’re starting
The Handmaid’s Tale
tomorrow and although I read it at the beginning of summer, I need to buy the recommended criticism on it.

‘Hey!’ Someone taps me on the shoulder. I look up and see Becky, clutching her pile of books. ‘Did you have a good weekend?’ she asks.

Nodding, I force myself to smile. There is no way I’ll tell her every second of it was hell being back in Watford, in that house with Mum but no Dad.

‘How about you?’ I ask.

She shrugs and says it was okay, she was just busy studying.

She waits for me to say something else, but when I stay silent she gives up, hastily telling me she’ll see me tomorrow. I take a deep breath. That wasn’t so bad.

Back in my room it is freezing, so I turn on the radiator. I’m on the fifth floor of the student block so it’s warmer than the lower floors, but I’m still convinced they regulate the heating to keep it as low as possible without having us freeze to death. I keep on the layers that only moments ago were making me sweat, then settle down onto the bed to read.

I must drift off because the next thing I know my mobile is ringing and vibrating next to me. It must be Mum; nobody else has my number. But when I pick it up and look at the screen it says caller unknown. Strange. Perhaps Mum’s calling from a different phone? One of her book club friends or someone like that.

‘Hello?’ I let out a deep sigh; I’m in no mood for a lecture from Mum about how unsociable I’m being when uni days are meant to be about meeting new friends and living a bit. I don’t ever ask her what she means by
living a bit.
Surely she’s not advocating that I shag around like a lot of the students here seem to do? I shudder at the thought of being touched.

‘Leah? Finally I’ve tracked you down.’ The voice is both familiar and unfamiliar. It’s not Mum.

‘Who…who is this?’ I say, barely able to get the words out because I already know. I pull the phone from my ear and stare at the screen, my finger hovering over the end call button.

‘Leah, are you there? Is that you?’

For some reason I’m compelled to raise it to my ear again.

‘I know this is a shock. But we really need to talk. Please?’

Finally I find my voice. ‘There’s nothing to say, Imogen. What do you want?’ I try to make my voice sound strong, brave, everything I’m not feeling at this moment.

‘Can you meet me tonight? In Watford? Please, it’s really important that we talk.’

I want to scream at her. Why is she doing this now when we haven’t spoken for three years? Not a word has passed between us since the night I fled from Miss Hollis’s house. I have done so well to avoid her, and the other two, but now here she is, invading my head.

‘No,’ I say. ‘No.’

‘Look, Leah, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t so important. I know we haven’t spoken for years, but we’re nineteen now and I know I’ve grown up.’

She does sound different. More mature somehow. Perhaps what happened has changed her as fundamentally as it has me.

‘Look, I’ll be at The White Lion pub at eight o’clock. Please come. Please.’

And then she hangs up. It should be me disconnecting the call. I shouldn’t have given her a chance to speak. I look at my watch and see it’s only two p.m. Allowing for traffic, the drive from Cambridge to Watford would take less than two hours so I could easily make it. I wish I couldn’t, but the option is there.

I spend the next few hours trying not to think about Imogen and The White Lion pub. But it’s there in the back of my head, taunting me. Whatever it is must be important for her to beg to see me. Then, when I can no longer put it off, I finally make a decision and grab my car keys from the desk. Leaving my room, I tell myself I’ll be okay as long as I don’t think too hard about what I’m doing.

My car is a four-year-old VW Polo. Mum bought it for me with some of the money Dad left us and, although it’s far from perfect, it has never let me down on the trips to Watford and back. I don’t really use it for anything else because there is nowhere other than uni I need to go, and I’m right on campus so that negates the need for a car. The main thing is it keeps Mum happy, and I’m grateful for it now.

I drive in silence, thinking about Imogen the whole time, remembering our friendship. Before. Will she look different? What if I don’t recognise her? The thought of walking into the pub and scrutinising strangers’ faces sets my heart pounding.

When I get there I park up, the pub looming in front of me as I sit in the car, watching people entering and leaving. I’m early – it’s only seven-fifteen – and I’m hoping to glimpse Imogen arriving. Somehow, to see her first will make me feel better. I will have the advantage.

But there is nobody who even remotely looks like her, so I sit and wait for the dashboard clock to tell me it’s eight o’clock.

Walking into the pub is harder than I imagined. It’s crowded and the air smells stale: a mixture of cigarettes, sweat and alcohol. I scan people’s faces but there is no sign of Imogen. Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself to walk through the throng to the back of the room. But then someone tugs at my sleeve.

Imogen.

She looks the same, only more beautiful and slimmer. Much slimmer. As if she’s shed the puppy fat she’d always had like an old pair of jeans.

‘Leah! I’m so happy you came!’ She leans forward, as if she is expecting a hug, but I back away, bumping into someone in my desperation not to be touched by her. ‘Watch out!’ she says. ‘Are you okay?’

I shouldn’t have come here. I regret it already and it can only get worse.

‘Say something. Please.’

So I do. ‘I shouldn’t have come,’ I tell her, turning towards the door.

‘No, wait! Now you’re here just let me buy you a drink.’

Without a word I follow her to the bar, staring at her skinny legs. She’s wearing a short knitted dress but she doesn’t look tarty. It suits her. It suits our age. It’s what I should be wearing instead of my jeans and frumpy jumper.

‘What would you like?’ she asks, when we reach the bar.

‘A Coke please.’

She frowns at me until I jingle my car keys in front of me.

‘Oh, that’s great that you drive. I haven’t gotten around to having lessons yet, but I will.’

She orders my drink and a vodka and orange for her. It should come as no surprise that she’s drinking already while I have never tasted alcohol. Nothing she does should come as a surprise.

‘Let’s just sit here.’ She drags a barstool out and gestures for me to do the same. ‘So how have you been? How’s life treating you?’ she asks, sipping her vodka.

This is unbelievable. She’s acting like we’re the best of friends just catching up. As if nothing happened. A scenario plays through my head: I grab her by the throat and scream at her. Scream that I don’t want to make small talk with her. Not after what she did. Not after betraying me. And then I walk out, leaving her staring, open-mouthed, knowing she won’t dare contact me again.

But I don’t do this. Instead, I reach for her hand and tell her it’s good to see her.

She looks surprised. ‘Really? I’m so glad you’ve said that. I’ve been so nervous about this.’

But she seems far from that. Her eyes are sparkling so there is no way she feels the way I do.

‘Do you know I’m studying to be a veterinary nurse?’ she continues. ‘How great is that? I should be qualified soon. And Corey and I are engaged.’ She thrusts out her hand and a small diamond glitters on her finger.

I stare at her, unable to comprehend anything she’s saying.

‘He’s doing great too. He’s training to be a motor mechanic and then he’s going to set up his own business. And Adam…’ She stops herself. Even though I haven’t said a word, or shown any emotion on my face. I’m good at that.

‘Well, anyway. We’re all doing great.’

Taking a sip of my Coke, I try to keep my hands steady. ‘I’m so glad,’ I say. The relief on her face is visible.

‘So how about you? Your mum said you’re at uni. I knew you’d get a place. That’s amazing. You always were the clever one.’

I blush at her compliment. ‘I’m enjoying it. It’s hard work, though.’

She nods, but isn’t really listening. ‘Let’s grab a table round the corner,’ she says, looking around. ‘It’s more private.’

She doesn’t wait for me to agree, but lifts herself from her stool, picking up her half-empty glass. And I follow the girl who used to be my best friend, who somewhere deep inside her must still be the Imogen I loved.

We round the corner and suddenly time stands still. I rub at my eyes to make sure I’m not hallucinating, but they’re still there. Sitting at a table for four, pints in their hands, laughing at something one of them has said. I stare at them, but I’m not shocked. They came as a three then so why should it be any different now?