LITMIR.BIZ

       Chapter Twenty-Two

      I lie on my bed with my eyes closed. I can hear the sounds of the party – the rhythmic thump of dance music, the clink of glasses, the low hum of various conversations – being played out beneath me, occasionally broken by a sudden burst of laughter, a door slamming, feet on stairs. I can’t face any of it.

      As the light begins to fade, Ben pushes the door open with an anguished expression on his face and he hurries to my bedside. He kneels beside me as if in prayer, assuring me that he’s sorry, that he loves me, that he wishes he could be the boyfriend I want him to be. Wordlessly I move up to allow him to squeeze next to me on the narrow single bed and we lie this way for a while, in silence. When he takes my hand, I let him.

      ‘You know,’ he says eventually, into the darkness. ‘I don’t understand what’s happened between you and Bea. You used to be so fond of each other.’

      ‘I can’t understand it either,’ I admit, thinking of all that’s happened.

      ‘She thinks you’re paranoid and jealous.’

      ‘I probably am.’ I’m close to tears. ‘But I think she’s possessive and controlling. Look, the dead bird can be explained away. Maybe. But the photograph? It was menacing, surely you get that?’

      He nods, but doesn’t interrupt me.

      ‘I was so happy about the thought of going away, spending time just the two of us. To get away from this house. Away from Beatrice’s bloody rules. Does that make me possessive?’

      He reaches over and hugs me in answer.

      ‘And the flowers, who would do something so cruel? Some of my letters have gone missing too. It’s all weird stuff, Ben. Surely it can’t be in my head? You saw the flowers.’

      He clears his throat and fidgets, clearly uncomfortable about what he’s going to say next. ‘I found a number for the flower shop, an independent little place near Pulteney Bridge. I rang them and they remember a woman placing the order, she came into the shop.’

      My heart pounds and I wait.

      ‘Abi,’ his voice is full of concern. ‘They described you.’

      My blood runs cold and I think of Lucy, remembering the note that came with the flowers. Love Lucy. How could it be possible when she’s dead?

      And then I think of Beatrice. The florist described me but they could also be talking about her. Tall, slim, blonde …

      Before I have the chance to answer, Beatrice bursts into the room saying she needs to talk to me urgently. Nia is close behind her. Ben looks from me to his sister, as if terrified about what Beatrice is about to reveal. She clicks on the main light, illuminating how pale, how anxious, both she and Nia look. Ben and I sit up simultaneously. ‘What’s going on?’ he says.

      Nia perches at the foot of the bed, looking wretched. ‘I’m so sorry, Abi. We’re all worried about you, I had to tell her.’

      I don’t know what she’s talking about. ‘Tell her what?’

      She looks at me imploringly with her huge brown eyes. Eyes that have always reminded me of a basset hound. ‘About Alicia.’

      The room swims and, with a sickening thud of clarity, I’m aware that I can’t trust my oldest friend. That I’m forever going to be tied with the mental illness tag, that I’m never going to be believed because Abi’s a sandwich short of a picnic, she’s been in a mental facility, didn’t you know? How can you believe anything she says? She’s paranoid, delusional. It’s as if I’m in a nightmare, where I’m trying to explain myself, trying to tell everyone that I’m perfectly sane, that it was a stupid mistake, a one-off, I’m not dangerous, I’m not a nutter, but no sound comes out of my mouth.

      My eyes fill with tears.

      ‘I’m so sorry, but Beatrice says you’re not taking your medication and I’m worried for you, Abi.’ She stares at me with her forthright expression. ‘I’m worried for you,’ she repeats, tears appearing in her eyes.

      ‘Why does everyone keep saying that?’ I say, finding my voice at last. ‘And I am taking my antidepressants.’

      Beatrice makes a disbelieving sound and wrinkles up her nose. She’s still standing by the doorway as if she’s afraid to come near me. I want to tell her that I know she’s been in my bedroom, that she’s been moving my antidepressants, playing with my mind. But by the way they are all staring at me, as if I’m a complete nutcase, I know they wouldn’t believe me anyway.

      I take Ben’s hand and stare at him imploringly. ‘The thing with Alicia – yes, it’s true.’

      ‘What happened?’ he asks.

      ‘I got a bit obsessed with her.’ I flinch when I notice Ben’s incredulous expression, and I know how bonkers, how screwed up I must sound. I close my eyes, like a child who believes nobody else can see them if they shut their eyes tightly. ‘Basically I stalked her, and when she told me to fuck off, as she had every right to do, I … well, I went for her.’

      ‘You did what?’

      I open my eyes. Ben looks appalled.

      ‘I hit her,’ I clarify.

      ‘She had to be pulled off her,’ states Beatrice, gleefully it seems.

      ‘Did … did she go to the police?’ asks Ben.

      ‘The police were called, but she didn’t press charges. I gave her a black eye. I felt terrible about it and I … I …’ I let the implication of my suicide attempt hang in the air. ‘I was admitted to hospital a few days later.’

      Ben leans forwards and folds me in his arms. I’m trembling, tears running down my face. He strokes my hair, tells me it’s all going to be okay. Then he barks for the others to get out of the room, to leave us alone. I’m surprised to hear him acting so authoritarian, for actually shouting at his precious sister. I realize that he’s sticking up for me. That he’s on my side after all.

      When the others have filed out, Nia mouthing apologies over her shoulder as she leaves, Ben takes me to his room, tells me he doesn’t want to leave me on my own tonight, that Nia can have my bed. ‘I regret not taking you away somewhere,’ he murmurs into my hair, as I curl up in his arms. ‘I regret so many things.’ And then he kisses me, urgently, in the way we did when we first met, before all his talk of Beatrice’s rules and respect, and as he starts to peel the clothes away from my body I ask him if he’s sure, and he tells me he is, that he is going to put me first from now on. And as we slowly begin to make love I can’t help but think that this is what makes me different to Beatrice, that sex with Ben belongs only to me.

      When I wake up the next morning the sun is streaming through the curtains and I have a sense of renewal, of hope. The birthday I’ve been dreading is over, I’ve had an amazing night with Ben. Maybe it’s because of the enforced hiatus, or the drama of last night, but the sex was better than it’s ever been.

      And I’m not entirely sure why, but I get the sense that the events of last night have altered

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