Split (16 page)

She thought of Andy. She had to keep her mind off him. She couldn’t push this man away. “But maybe we could catch up when I’m done? Something casual. Why don’t I call you?”

“Sounds great.” He moved forward and gave her a kiss, his hands brushing her shoulders. “I really enjoyed your company.”

Debbie Melmeth woke up and smelled the delectable aromas of venison and garlic roasting in a hot oven somewhere nearby. She sat upright from the snoozing half-slouch permitted by her binds and searched the room with puffy eyes.

The appetising smells were so potent that she imagined she could actually see the scent itself, like wispy white ghosts creeping under the door and drifting seductively toward her nostrils.

Debbie imagined herself eating—what the food would look like on her fork, what it would taste like on her tongue—what it would feel like in her belly.

Oh, please feed me…

The door to her little room opened. She heard footsteps, saw the doorhandle turn, and there he was, standing in the doorway again. But this time Debbie thought he looked different. Perhaps it was because he was dressed differently—in a crisp white shirt and slacks. His hair was combed. Somehow, he looked a
little less crazed than she remembered. Actually, at that moment, he looked almost handsome.

To her surprise, he carried a small table through the door. She watched as he walked up to her and set the table down in front of her, then smiled briefly, turned his back and was gone again. Debbie didn’t move.

He came back with a tablecloth and some cutlery. She noticed there were two sets. He laid them out neatly on opposite sides of the table and set up a single, long white candle between them. He fished a box of matches out of his pants’ pocket and struck one. Debbie’s eyes followed the flame, and the candle made a tiny crackle as it was lit.

The sight of it was almost…almost romantic.

And hypnotic.

Before she knew it he had left the room and returned again with two bottles, one dark and one clear, and as he approached Debbie realised that the dark one was a bottle of red wine. She could see the label—a shiraz. He had glasses as well—two for water and two for wine. He filled her water glass first and placed it in front of her. She was desperate to sip it but her hands were still locked behind her back. She looked to the glass, then up at him. Her stomach let out a long growl.

“Hello, young lady. My name is John,” the man said.

He even sounded sane.

“Hello, John,” Debbie replied automatically, confused by the sudden turn of events. “I would really like some food and water,” she said.

“Oh, I totally understand,” said John. “I’ll take care of that right away. I am cooking something for us right now. My brother has been very naughty to leave you this way. Has he fed you at all?”

Brother? But he looked exactly like you.

“Well, no. Not really. You, I mean he, he gave me some potato chips,” Debbie corrected herself. “Your brother gave me potato chips, that’s all.”

Play along. Play along.

“Potato chips!” He looked shocked. “That is it? Nothing else?”

She shook her head. “Nothing else.”

“I am so sorry, Miss. That is just awful. What’s your name?”

“Debbie. Debbie Melmeth.”

“Now, Debbie, I want to help you. I want to try to undo some of the wrongs my bad twin brother has done to you. I would like to take off your handcuffs for a start, but to tell you the truth, I’m afraid that you might hurt me if I do.”

“No, no! I won’t hurt you. I wouldn’t do that,” she insisted.

He cocked his head to one side and looked at her. “Oh, I’m not sure.” He shook his head. “Perhaps I should feed you by hand until we have talked some, and got to know each other a little more?”

“No! No. I mean, please feed me, please, but I can do it myself. You can free me. I promise I won’t do anything.”

He cocked his head to the other side, thinking it over.

“I promise! I promise I’ll be good.”

He nodded. “Okay, Debbie. I will trust you. I am going to uncuff you now, but you have to be nice, okay?”

“Okay.”

John walked around behind her and she felt the cuffs come off. Her wrists ached where the cuffs had been, but finally her hands were free. Immediately she reached across and grabbed the water off the table, gulping it down eagerly and not stopping until the glass was empty.

He smiled and refilled it for her. “That’s better, hey?” he said and she nodded and grabbed for the glass again.

When Debbie had finished her third glass of water, she crossed her arms in front of her and hugged herself, and she began to cry.

“I am really sorry about all that other stuff with my brother, Debbie. I really am.”

She said nothing, just looked at him. He looked sincere, but she didn’t know what to think. Where was this man before? Did he really have a twin brother? What if it was the same person? He looked exactly the same. He could have just combed his hair and got changed.

“Hold tight for a moment longer while I get our dinner, okay, Debbie?”

She nodded eagerly. “Thank you so much. Thank you…”

Debbie watched him walk away, and feared for a moment that he would not come back. What if this man, her only hope, decided not to help her after all?

But John did come back, just the same, only now he was loaded up with the most beautiful meal that Debbie had ever seen. There was mashed potato, venison and roast pumpkin and beans and big cloves of garlic. She couldn’t believe her eyes. There were little sourdough dinner rolls and everything.

“Oh my God,” she blurted out at the sight of it. “Oh my God, thank you. Thank you so much!”

“I think we’ll enjoy this, Debbie,” he said and smiled.

She reached out for the food, and tried to grab a piece of meat, but John slapped her hand away angrily.

His smile was gone.

“No, Debbie. No, that’s a bad girl.” His face changed; his mouth turned down and he furrowed his brow. “You can eat it properly or not at all, do you hear me? Where are your manners?”

“Oh yes, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Debbie apologised.

“I’m very disappointed, Debbie,” he said, shaking his head.

“Oh no! Don’t be disappointed! It will never happen again. I’m so sorry,” she said.

“That was very greedy, Debbie. Very discourteous. After I went to all this trouble to present you with a nice meal…”

Oh, God, what if he takes it away? What if he takes his food and goes away and leaves me to starve?

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I was greedy. I’m sorry.” She was dizzy from hunger.

“Okay, Debbie. I’ll forgive you, but you have to be a good girl now, okay?”

“Okay,” she promised.

He busied himself with aligning everything on the table. It was agonising waiting while he straightened the napkins and each piece of cutlery. Debbie sat on her hands to prevent herself from reaching for the food again. She kept her eyes down. She could not watch.

“Would you like some wine?” he finally said.

She remembered the drink she had had at the bar, and wondered how she couldn’t recall anything after that point. How she had ended up in that godforsaken room was a mystery to her.

He must have noticed her hesitation. “It’s okay. You have nothing to fear. It’s just a shiraz. Do you like shiraz?”

He uncorked the bottle with his wine opener, and the cork slid out with an audible “pop”. With just a touch of the shiraz in his own glass, he sniffed at it, tasted
it, and then swilled it around in his mouth. He thought about the taste for a while, as she sat there starving.

“I think you’ll like this,” he said, and filled her glass halfway, and then his own. “Napkins first.”

She raised her hands and forced herself not to look at the plate in front of her. Not yet. It all smelled so incredibly delicious. She fought the urge to grab it greedily. She knew that would anger him, and then she wouldn’t stand a chance.

He reached across and placed her napkin in her lap for her, and said, “A toast.”

She nodded.

“To us,” he said.

To us?

She picked up her glass and clinked it against his.

He took a sip of wine, and she followed suit. She looked to him briefly for approval before launching into her meal. It was okay now, she could eat. It was as though all her senses, all her thoughts had been overtaken by the need to still her hunger.

“Now, just one more thing, Debbie.”

“Yes?” she said between mouthfuls.

“I want to ask you something, but you have to be honest with me.”

“Yes…yes I will be honest with you.” She couldn’t afford to anger him…She knew he could take away the food if she did.

“You have to be honest. You can tell me anything, okay?”

“Okay,” she mumbled as she tried not to stuff too much food into her mouth.

“Do you find me attractive?” he asked.

A sick feeling settled on her. Though she continued to eat she started to sense the price she would have to pay.

“You want me, don’t you?” John said.

What do I say to that?

“Go on, Debbie. You can tell me. You want me, don’t you?”

This could be my chance to escape,
she thought.
This man is crazy. If he is the same man who caught me and brought me here and fed me potato chips then he is a complete lunatic and I need to get out of here and this is my only chance…

“Yes,” she answered.

“Say it,” he said.

Debbie suddenly felt ill. Her stomach had shrunk over the past few days without food. The gnawing feeling had stopped and in its place was a feeling of complete helplessness. She didn’t understand why he was asking her such a thing. She was confused. And scared.

“Saaaaaaaaaaay it!” he shouted.

“I want you,” she said obediently.

“Say, ‘I want you, John’.”

“I want you, John.”

He came around the table and pushed her to the ground. At first she lashed out with her arms against the weight of his body, but it didn’t take her long to realise this was a fight she wouldn’t win.

Makedde came home from the conference worn out. She was greeted by the flashing answering machine. She had promised to meet Roy and it was probably him calling. At the thought of his company, she perked up a little. Should she just invite him over? Talk and watch videos or something? Eat some takeaway?

She pressed “play”, anticipating his voice, but it wasn’t a message from Roy she heard.

“Hi, Mak.”
It was Andy.
“I missed you at the conference today. Look, I need to speak to you. I don’t know what you have planned, but perhaps we could catch up over a bite of dinner tonight? Please give me a call as soon as you can. The number is…”

How did he get my number? Bloody hell.

There was no way she was going to just drop everything for dinner with Andy. No way at all.

No. I want to spend time with Roy, not Andy.

She called Andy back at his hotel and was relieved when the hotel voice mail picked up.

“Andy, it’s Mak. I got your message. Sorry, but I’m busy tonight.” It gave some minuscule sense of accomplishment to tell him that. “Perhaps we can meet tomorrow? Take care.”

Makedde hung up and frowned.

Part of her really wanted to see him, and she hated that.

Roy Blake came round at eight, right on time.

“Now here’s a man after my heart,” Makedde remarked with a smile. He stood patiently on her doorstep, waiting to be invited inside, balancing a couple of rented videos, two bags of takeaway, a bottle of wine and a bunch of pastel-pink baby roses.

Wow.

“Come on in,” she said. “Thanks for this. You really went all-out.”

He smiled and gave her a kiss as he stepped inside. “My pleasure,” he said. “It’s great to see you.”

He stood beside her and she was struck once again by how exquisitely tall he was. He wore a leather jacket and blue jeans with casual boots. When he took his jacket off she noticed the way it clung to his wide shoulders, a feature she found incredibly attractive in men.

Roy was “just her type” as Jaqui had pointed out. And he had that handsome, boyish face.

Mmm, and he was wearing cologne again.

They settled on the couch and she laid out the takeaway with some placemats and plates. He had brought Indian food—butter chicken, lamb korma, some curried vegetables and naan.

“This looks wonderful. Thanks.”

“No problem at all. It’s kind of you to invite me over,” he said.

“So what’s in the video cases? What did you pick out?”

He grinned mischievously.

“What…?”

“
From Russia with Love
and
To Live and Die in LA
.”

She squealed with delight. “
From Russia with Love
!”

“You said you love Bond. And let’s face it, Sean Connery is the only Bond, right? I only hope you haven’t seen it too many times.”

My God, he has been paying attention. Dr No
was still her favourite, but
From Russia with Love
was a close second. Her mood had completely lifted. She was truly impressed. The previews rolled for their video, they clinked glasses and began eating. The meal was delicious and so was the full-bodied red wine he had chosen. What a treat.

They watched as 007 kissed a beautiful bikini-clad woman and whispered sweet nothings in her ear.

“Did you get most of your studying done?” Roy asked.

“Well, not really,” she admitted, still watching
Sean. She was way behind on her thesis, and this sort of thing wouldn’t help.

“Oh! Well, don’t let me stop you,” he said. “I’ll let you work. Or better yet, maybe I could help you?”

She laughed. “It’s boring stuff, really.”

Too boring, it seemed. Perhaps she should have chosen a thesis topic about psychopaths instead of eyewitness testimony?

“It’s psychology, isn’t it? That’s my pet topic,” Roy said.

“It is?” Makedde had seen the movie ten times before, so she didn’t mind that Roy wanted to talk. In fact, she soon found that the film made a nice background atmosphere for them.

“Yes,” he said. “It was always my favourite subject. I’ve read a number of the textbooks and I have experience with people who suffer from psychological disorders. No, not any disorders I have.” He laughed. “In fact, I wanted to pursue psychology as a profession for a while there, just like you are, but, um,” his face dropped a little, “circumstances made it impossible. I had to start work right away to support my family, so the idea of a degree took a back seat.”

He has a family!

He must have read her face, because he said, “Oh no, I don’t have a wife and kids or anything. No, no. Nothing like that. I’ve never been married. It’s just that my father isn’t well and my—”

“Oh,” she said. “You had me going there for a moment. Not that there’s anything wrong with having kids,” she insisted. “But you know…”

He leaned over and gave her an affectionate hug. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “You aren’t about to become a surrogate mom. I’m single and I don’t have any kids.”

And you’re tall and gorgeous and you are not Andy Flynn.

She brought one hand up to his chin and ran her fingertip along the line of his jaw. She could feel the stubble waiting just beneath the surface. He had probably shaved before coming over. She felt the urge to kiss him, and she didn’t resist it.

She parted her lips slightly, and they kissed. She liked his taste, she liked the warmth of his mouth and the newness of his touch as his hands moved to caress her shoulders.

Yes. Jaqui was right. I have been waiting too long.

She pushed him down on the couch and kissed him hard.