Talk to Me (29 page)

PC Cartwright materialised. ‘Can you tell us what happened?’ she growled in her smoke laden voice.

I tried to lick my lips and winced, they were so dry despite the excess of saliva that had revoltingly collected in my mouth.

Daniel flicked her a distinct, ‘Leave her alone,’ look before piping up, ‘She needs water.’ At a slight nod from Cartwright, another WPC darted away and was back in seconds with a glass.

I sipped gratefully. Across the way, Emily was sitting on the sofa, her head in her hands. Peter was being held forcibly by two constables who wouldn’t have seemed out of place on the back row of a rugby pitch. He looked unperturbed gazing choirboy like at the ceiling.

I thought police procedure would take forever but they were amazingly quick and incredibly sympathetic. I heard Peter being read his rights and arrested before he was escorted down the stairs.

‘We’ll need you to make a full statement,’ Cartwright said to me, her face softening to granite. ‘But we’ll wait for the paramedic to get here.’

‘Can’t it wait until tomorrow?’ asked Daniel, indicating my bruised face.

Cartwright pursed her lips. ‘Sorry, we need witness statements from all of you.’

Emily stood. ‘Why don’t I give you mine now? Olivia needs to …’

The words go home were left unsaid. I was already at home, after all, but there was no way I wanted to stay.

I smiled weakly at Emily. ‘Thanks.’

Cartwright turned to me. ‘A uniformed officer will stay with you and accompany you to hospital. I really think you should go.’

She raked my face with an experienced eye. ‘That cheek looks a bit of a mess, although believe it or not you got off lightly.’

Got off lightly, who was she kidding? I dreaded to think what someone who hadn’t looked like. My face felt as if it was on fire and my head hurt if I so much as blinked. On top of that I felt so limp and defeated. All I wanted was simply to sign on the dotted line and say, ‘I hereby hand over my body – somebody please take charge of me’.

The paramedic, a vision in bilious green, arrived looking more like a kindly leprechaun than a hero of the emergency services. His twinkly avuncular manner belied a core of steel and before long I had agreed to go to the hospital with him. By this time, statements had been taken from Emily, Barney and Daniel and they were all free to go.

Before I left Emily came over. ‘Clothes and now men. You always did like my cast offs.’ She smiled wryly to show that she was joking. Daniel melted away disappearing into my bedroom. ‘Sorry, Olivia. I always knew you liked him.’ She sighed heavily. ‘I should have given him back earlier.’ That was as close to an apology as I was ever going to get. ‘Take care of yourself. I won’t come back here.’ She laughed tonelessly.

She directed a quick look at Daniel, who’d emerged from my room with a bag in his hands into which he was stuffing a pair of my jeans. ‘Bye then. Are you coming, Barney?’ She gave him a flirty smile. Typical, he was so her type.

He grinned back. ‘Well done. Bloody brave of you to brave the lion’s den. Back to my place?’

‘Please, that would be nice.’

She turned to Daniel. ‘Bye, Daniel.’

‘See you, Emily,’ he said calmly, looking totally unconcerned.

‘I doubt it,’ she replied, airily tossing her hair so that he would remember exactly what he was missing. I watched him from under my lashes, as he eyed her thoughtfully as she and Barney disappeared from view in the wake of WPC Cartwright.

Daniel and I left the flat in the hands of the crime scene guys. The twilit sky was awash with blue flashes; the unsynchronised lights illuminating the faces of curiosity seekers crowding around the scattered police cars.

‘This way.’ The attractive brunette WPC who had been assigned to accompany me to hospital ushered me into a waiting car. Daniel, sliding into the back with me, perked up momentarily. His first time too. He was leaning over the seat avidly looking at the different gizmos. I managed a wonky smile. He gave my hand a squeeze.

‘Which one do you think is the siren?’ he said in a loud stage whisper. WPC Jennings gave us both a ‘and-no-one’s-ever-said-that-one-before’ patient smile.

Once again she went through the procedure at the hospital. We’d be met there by a specially trained SOCO who would ‘harvest’ any evidence – her description – and she would be taking my statement as soon as I felt up to it.

The journey to the hospital, despite the novelty of the transport, went by in a haze, as was my time there. I remember clearly Daniel being a constant, at my side the whole time. Everything else had a dream like feel; the low gentle tones of my police lady as she took copious notes, the crime scene photographer taking hundreds of pictures of me, gently angling my head this way and that to get close ups of every bump and bruise and the low hum of the hospital beyond the cubicle curtains.

The only one bonus to the evening was that I was seen very quickly. The doctor wanted to admit me, but when I questioned her closely about my injuries, she said in patronising tones that if I wanted to, I could go home but she wouldn’t advise it. ‘You’ll need someone with you,’ she said acidly, when I said that I really would rather.

‘She’s coming home with me,’ interjected Daniel, giving the doctor a tight smile. He hadn’t said much in the last few hours, his face had been grim for much of the time. A little light bulb lit up within me – only a fairy light admittedly, given the way I was feeling. I looked at him gratefully, although he didn’t see, he was busy looking at his shoes. I craned my neck to see what was so interesting but couldn’t spot anything.

Never in his life had he needed to hold on so tightly to his temper. Escorting Olivia for the second time out of the automatic doors of the hospital, he shook with the control he needed to stop himself giving into the desire to lash out at something. If he started, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop a descent into a frenzy of violence. Every knuckle on both hands hurt where they’d been clenched so hard as if physically clutching onto his self-control. He found talking difficult, in case he upset Olivia.

Guiding her outside, he saw passers-by glance quickly at her poor face. Wide-eyed, almost punch drunk, no wonder they looked, she looked so fragile and bruised.

He consoled himself with glaring at them, the only outlet for the violence he held in check, he worried if he let it show it would push her over the edge.

He took Olivia’s hand into his. It was the only part of her he dared touch. It also kept her at arm’s length. The swelling on her face, the streaks of blood on her clothes were a constant reminder of what she’d suffered and he knew if he didn’t keep a distance, he would breakdown, hug her too him and never let her go. She needed him to be strong.

Getting her home was the priority. Once they were there and safe, he could let go of the terrible anxiety spiralling through him. Seeing her so vulnerable, at the mercy of Peter had tugged at a frail thread inside. He’d never felt so helpless or useless. Just thinking about it made his breathing shallow. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to concentrate on ushering her towards the taxi rank.

It never occurred to him to ask her where she might want to go, he was taking her home with him and keeping her by his side for the rest of the night. If not the rest of his life.

As the taxi dropped them at his car, still parked haphazardly outside Olivia’s flat, he unlocked the door with the remote. Glancing around, he settled Olivia in the passenger seat and then checked there was no one nearby, resisting the urge to lock the doors as he moved around the back of the car to get to the driver’s seat.

It was funny how everything suddenly dimmed into insignificance. All the wasted time, Emily’s lies, the near misses. As he started the engine, immediately soothed by the revs under his foot, he turned to Olivia. Her eyes were closed and her lips pressed tightly shut. He let out a breath, slipped the car into gear and glanced at the clock. In another hour they’d be home.

Daniel couldn’t have driven all the way home in second gear, but I don’t remember him ever relinquishing my punishing grasp on his hand. My lap was full of first aid remedies pressed upon me by the sulky doctor, antiseptic salve for my face and industrial sized boxes of paracetamol and ibruprofen. The latter were just starting to work, so the journey was a blur of cat’s eyes on the road. There was silence apart from the purr of the car and low music that I was aware of but unable to hear. I felt strangely disconnected. The warm hand in my lap was the only thing linking me to the world. I wanted to speak but couldn’t form the words. They were stuck at the back of a tunnel that my brain couldn’t dig its way through.

As I stepped out of the car, the shadows and rustles of the country night immediately soothed me. Emily had said she found the country night alien but I felt comforted by the dark. It felt safer here. The urban jungle was far scarier, concealing the feral under a civilised veneer. The only predators out here were the four-legged variety – I could cope with those.

Daniel unlocked the big, solid wooden door, ushering me in. He put my bag down at the foot of the stairs. In the dim light of the hall, he looked the worst I’d ever seen him. Tufts of hair stood ranged across his head, his face grey and eyes shadowed.

He caught me staring at him. ‘This way.’ He nodded towards the kitchen. It was hard to believe that it was only two days ago that I’d been here, all a flutter, with the promise of things to come. I smiled wanly.

‘Daniel, I’m sorry. You must be absolutely bushed,’ I said in a low voice. He ran a hand through his hair. No wonder it looked as bad as it did, he’d been doing that all evening.

‘It’s been quite a night,’ he said looking at me.

Now that we were inside there was a physical distance between us. I was shy and he seemed to be avoiding touching me all of a sudden.

Had he changed his mind? Had I been too needy in the last 24 hours? Perhaps all this knight in shining armour stuff had got a bit tedious. It was ironic. When he had seemed unattainable I’d managed to bury my feelings for most of the time. Pretending that they weren’t there and getting on with my life. Now, since yesterday morning, I’d been unable to resist examining them like a shiny new penny, polishing them in private. What if that was taken away again? I felt hollow.

‘I don’t know about you but I’m starving.’ he said finally, moving away. I watched him open the fridge, his head disappearing inside like an eager Labrador on the hunt for food. He emerged clutching a white carton. ‘Would you like some soup?’

Ugh. My stomach quivered. I wasn’t sure if it was rebellion or hunger. Horribly conscious of all the trouble he’d already been through, I ignored my natural reaction and said politely, ‘That would be nice, thank you.’

He busied himself, getting out a pan, opening the carton of fresh soup. ‘Aubergine and red pepper all right?’ he asked blandly. ‘Miriam’s been to Waitrose again. I get all the things Dad refuses to try. Red pepper gives him indigestion.’

‘Sounds lovely.’ I tried to sound bright but my voice came out strained.

He looked sharply at me. ‘I can find something else if you want.’

‘No, that’s fine, honestly.’ I pulled out one of the chairs and sat down sideways on. I was still huddled in my coat. The painkillers had done their job but I felt washed out. I didn’t even have the energy to offer to set the table.

Daniel seemed grimly efficient, crisply moving about the kitchen, concentrating on his tasks. Only when the soup was in a saucepan with the gas ring lit, the soup bowls ready and bread buttered did he stop. Carrying two spoons to the table, he looked at me and slid his eyes away quickly. They came back to rest on the top button of my coat.

‘Don’t you want to take that off?’ he asked.

I shrugged. Disappointment bitter in my throat. Fumbling sausage fingers failed me as I tried to undo it. Those paracetamol were working overtime and affecting all my nerve endings.

‘Come here,’ he said, a trace of exasperation in his voice.

I stood awkwardly looking down, watching as his fingers deftly undid the buttons. I felt like a five-year-old at school, I expected to see mittens on strings poking out of each sleeve. His hands came up to tug the lapels from my shoulders, they brushed my neck. Three thousand volts registered immediately but even as the brief flash died away, despair flooded in. His eyes had slid away from mine, his hands jumping away. Had I imagined the merest flicker of distaste in them? My shoulders slumped, a tiny rogue sob escaped.

‘Hey,’ said Daniel softly, his face creasing in concern. This immediately set me off. More sobs broke through, my eyes filling with tears that poured helplessly down my cheeks. God, men hate tears. He must have had enough tonight. Which made me sob harder. Bloody hell. I couldn’t look at him.

I felt him push my coat down my arms. Heard the buttons chink against the floor as he tossed it aside. Strong arms enfolded me, pulling me into a hard chest. The next thing I knew I was sitting, tucked onto his lap, close enough to see the soft stubble breaking through on his chin.

‘It’s OK, you’re safe,’ he murmured, his eyes looking directly into mine. They looked worried. Leaning closer still, his mouth began tracing up the trail of my tears, wisping past my damp eyelashes and coming to rest on my forehead. ‘It’s OK.’

Weeping uncontrollably now, I sputtered incoherent apologies. ‘I … I’m … sssorry.’ My gulping breaths interspersed the words.

His hold tightened, pulling me closer. We sat like that for a minute as my heaving sobs calmed. Apart from the hiss of the gas ring and the plops of soup bubbles, there was silence. I could feel the rise and fall of his chest against me. Then very gently his lips moved downwards, until they found mine.

Instant conflagration! The second they touched, something burst. Every pent up emotion – all the fears of the day – were poured into that kiss. Thank God for painkillers! Our mouths were urgent. His lips firmly moulded mine and I kissed him back wholeheartedly. There was no hesitancy or gentle teasing. This was tongues duelling; breath gasping harshly; his hand holding my head firmly. Spontaneous combustion was only seconds away.

The bitter acrid smell of burning soup butted in. As I pulled back slightly, Daniel tightened his hold and carried on kissing me. I twisted my head to mutter against his mouth.

‘Soup …. burning.’

‘Sod …’ He kissed me again, pulling my head back to slant his mouth back over mine. ‘The …’ Those delicious mind numbing lips honed in again before coming up to murmur, ‘soup.’

I was starting to melt. The kiss was penetrating erogenous zones I didn’t know I had. My body was beginning to do that pliable thing – bones going all supple and all the while a core of heat building.

Any doubts about my desirability and whether he still wanted me had gone up in smoke. Literally.

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP – the ear piercing shriek of the smoke alarm censored the kiss. We drew back, chests heaving, little pants escaping, looking at each other.

‘And I was worried about damaging you any more,’ he said dryly, his lips brushing against my face as he spoke.

I gave a wan smile and touched his face. ‘Just what the doctor ordered – definitely the kiss of life.’ My shyness receded. ‘Better turn that soup off – we don’t want to make it a hat trick with the emergency services by needing a fire engine. I think we’ve used up our 999 call out ration for today.’

Tipping me to my feet and grasping one hand, he switched off the soup with a deft flick of the wrist, marched up to the alarm and pinged out the battery. Still clutching my hand, he led me through to the lounge. Flipping on a lamp, he pulled me down with him onto the sofa, pulling me close with an arm around my shoulder.

‘I’ve lost my appetite. Now where were we?’

‘Mouth to mouth resuscitation, I think,’ I said, eyeing his lips longingly before very slowly and deliberately sliding my gaze to meet his.

‘Do that any more and I’m not going to be responsible for my actions. I’m having a difficult job trying to keep my hands off you as it is.’

‘I don’t want you to. I’m all right,’ I said, my hand lifting to stroke his neck and slide up into his hair.

‘Sweetheart, you don’t look it.’ He softened the words, gently circling my bruised cheek. ‘After tonight, I might need a bloody pacemaker fitted. My heart damn near stopped when Emily and Barney phoned me. Then when I saw you with blood pouring down your face and tied up in that chair, I wanted to …’ He shook his head, hands tensing, the tendon’s standing proud. He didn’t need to finish. I had a pretty good idea. I’d seen his face at the time.

‘It was a hell of surprise when I heard Emily come in. Suddenly she was being as nice as pie – only an hour before she was trying to tell me you were gay.’

He looked startled. ‘What did you say to that?’

‘Sorry I didn’t get the chance to defend your honour. In the next breath she told me you’d never be interested in me.’

‘Well – at least you know the latter’s wrong even if you weren’t too sure about the former.’

I looked up at him, took a deep breath and said, ‘I did then. I’ve been … having doubts since we got here. I’ve caused you so much trouble in the last 24 hours. You seemed a bit … I thought …’

God was I being weak and needy? Was he just being nice now – because I’ve had a traumatic experience? One of my voices sarcastically shouted, ‘Yes, of course he’s just being nice – with a kiss like that.’

‘Olivia, have you any idea how much control I’ve been exerting? I hate to say this but you’re looking pretty banged up. After what you’ve been through today, you might not want me manhandling you – although …’ his Adam’s apple dipped as he swallowed, ‘I realise now, I got that bit wrong.’