The Stranger Within (15 page)

“You know, Esme’s a nice girl. I’m not taking sides or anything, but she was kind of upset about what happened.”

His statement hits me hard because it is another reminder of how I have messed up. If she really is as nice as Rhys says, and if I’d taken the time to talk to her, got her on my side perhaps, then things might be looking up right now. And I wouldn’t be sitting here alone, drinking myself into oblivion. A parody of Dad. I don’t want to hear any more. “Okay, thanks, Rhys. I’m going now.”

“No, no, wait –”

But I have already hung up.

              After another two glasses of wine, the bottle is empty and there is no more alcohol in the cupboard or fridge. I will have to go to the shop if I want to knock myself out.

I walk past Mrs Simmons’ house, trying to walk in a straight line but not sure I’m pulling it off. It’s dark outside now, but her curtains are open and the flickering images from her television light up her front room. I can’t see her but am sure she is watching me. I give her a wave, an exaggerated gesture I am sure she won’t be able to misinterpret. What I really want to do is stick two fingers up at her.

              On my way back home, with two bottles of wine swinging in a plastic bag from my arm, I see that Mrs Simmons’ curtains are still open. This time I can see her, but for once her back is turned.

              I have barely had time to go inside and pour another glass of wine before the doorbell rings.

Rhys is standing on the front step, his shoulders hunched and his hands in his pockets. “Sorry,” he says. “I had to come and see if you were okay. You hung up on me so I thought I must have upset you.” He looks up from under his fringe and bites his lip, waiting for me to say something.

              “Rhys, you shouldn’t be here. Go home.” I am leaning on the door but try to straighten myself up.

              But instead of backing away, he takes a step forward. Instantly, I inch back, clutching the doorknob even tighter. “Not until I know you’re okay.” He stares at me, showing me he is serious and wants to control this situation. I would laugh, but I’m touched by his determination.

              “Look at me, I’m fine! I’m not slashing my wrists, am I?” I hold up both arms to show him my unharmed skin, and the door bangs back against the wall.

              “That’s not funny, Callie.”

He is right. I shouldn’t be speaking this way to him. But I don’t apologise. “Just go, get out of here. Go and do whatever it is people your age bloody do…” I fall back against the wall but he leaps forward to steady me.

“No way, not when you’re like this. Come on.” Grabbing my arm, he leads me inside and shuts the door. He takes me through to the kitchen and guides me into a chair. I’m the adult, I should be taking care of
him
, but my brain is too foggy to care. All I can do is rest my head in my hands and flop onto the table.

“I’m making you some coffee,” Rhys says, and I hear him rooting around in the cupboards. He soon works out where everything is and after some pottering around, places a steaming mug in front of me. “I promise it will be even better than the last one,” he says. “I’ve been practicing. Even tried some of it myself. Not bad, but I still prefer Red Bull.”

I reach up and stroke his cheek with my hand. Somehow, even in my state, I notice how soft his skin is. “You’re a good kid, Rhys. Your parents are bloody lucky.”

And then I black out.

When I come round I am in my bed, on James’s side, wrapped tightly in the duvet. I push myself up against his pillow and in the darkness see Rhys’ silhouette. He is sitting in the chair by the window, the screen of his mobile illuminating his face.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, looking across at me. Even in this sparse light I can see concern etched on his face.

“What’s going on, Rhys?” I sit up further and then something occurs to me. Sucking in my breath, I lift the duvet and, with a flood of relief, find I am still dressed in my jeans and vest top, and even my cardigan half hangs my shoulders. But my shoes are neatly arranged by the side of the bed.

Rhys notices my alarm. “I’m so sorry, Callie. I didn’t know what to do so I put you to bed. You were in…a bit of a state. I stayed to make sure you weren’t sick or anything. I mean, you hear all this stuff about people choking on their own –”

“I get the idea. Thanks. I think.”

“Please don’t worry, I swear I didn’t see anything I shouldn’t have. Except maybe your feet because I had to take your shoes off.” He grins and I immediately relax.

Shifting over to my own side of the bed, I glance at the clock and see it’s nearly midnight. “Rhys, shit! Won’t your parents be worried?”

“It’s okay. They’re away for the weekend. It’s their anniversary so Dad’s treating Mum to a spa weekend. He’s even joining in with whatever it is people do at those things.”

This doesn’t make me feel much better. “You still shouldn’t be out this late. And you shouldn’t be here. Especially without Dillon.”

“But you’re here,” he says, and I can’t help but smile.

“That’s exactly my point.”

A wave of nausea sweeps through me and I roll onto my side. Somehow this helps, at least for the moment.

“I’ll get you some water,” Rhys says, jumping up before I can protest.

He seems to take forever and I wonder if he’s changed his mind and gone home. But eventually I hear his heavy footsteps on the stairs and force myself to sit up. He hands me a glass of water and I down the whole thing, but rather than helping, it makes me queasy, my mind unable to distinguish between water and wine.

“Are you okay?” Rhys asks.

“Sorry…” I throw the covers back and rush to the bathroom, turning the tap on so Rhys won’t hear the terrible sounds of me retching.

When I get back to the bedroom, he is sitting on the edge of the bed, playing with his phone again. “Are you okay?” he asks, as I get back into bed. “You were gone ages.”

“Let’s just say I feel better now.” And I do. Although the thought of drinking anything else – even water – repulses me. “I hope you never have to know what that feels like,” I say, knowing he will one day.

“Callie, I’m not a kid. No, I haven’t really been drunk before, but does that make me immature?”

He is right. He is not immature and not like any other nearly-eighteen-year-old I have met. Not like I was at his age. “Sorry, I –”

“Do I even look my age? I bet if you didn’t know me you’d think I was at least twenty. Wouldn’t you?”

I look at him and try to work out if this is true. He is partly right; because he is tall and quite muscular, he could easily lie about his age. “Maybe nineteen,” I say, and he seems pleased with my concession.

“Callie, I’m sorry if I upset you on the phone earlier. I will talk to Dillon again, I promise.”

His words are so tender and comforting that when he reaches for my hand, I let him take it. His touch sends a shiver through me but I ignore it; the feeling is wrong, but also right. He shifts closer to me, his face leaning towards me and his leg resting against mine, sending a frisson of excitement through my body.

              Lurching backwards, I nearly smack my head against the headboard. “You need to go. Now.”

Chapter Sixteen

For days I am riddled with guilt over what I nearly did with Rhys. What I wanted to do. I may have prevented it from going further, but it should never have got as far as it did. I acted irresponsibly by allowing him into the house when I was alone, especially as I suspected how he felt. Even now, four days later, I can still picture the disappointment on his face as I called him a cab and pushed him out of the door.

“I really like you, Callie,” were the last words he said before I shut the door on him. I couldn’t even bring myself to thank him for looking out for me.

              I am also a hypocrite. I was ready to confront James about Tabitha but how can I do that when I am almost as guilty as he is? The fact that I wanted Rhys, got excited when he touched me, makes me nearly as culpable.

              It is a miracle that I could focus on my exam, but thoughts of Rhys still edged their way in so I am sure I have not done well.

              With Dillon still away, it has been easy to avoid Rhys, and I cut off his calls without answering. But today James and the boys are back, so how long before I’ll have to face him again?

              “Happy birthday,” James says, the minute they’re through the door. Dillon and Luke follow him into the living room and repeat
happy birthday
in unison, neither boy looking at me. James pats them each on the back, unwittingly revealing that he has prompted this show of good wishes. But I don’t care that it’s my birthday and I don’t want special treatment; I just want things to be different.

              “We’re having a special dinner for you this evening,” James says, and I wonder why he wants to do this with everything that’s going on. But it will be nice to have at least one day when everyone is on their best behaviour. A pretence at normality.

              “Can Harry still come?” Luke asks, tugging at James’ shirt. James nods and then looks at me with a shrug. So this is how he has convinced the boys to sit down to a civil birthday meal with me.

Dillon smirks before turning to James. “And Rhys. That’s still okay, isn’t it, Dad?”             

A heavy panic forms in my chest. I knew it was only a matter of time before I’d have to face him, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon. But there is nothing I can do. The dinner is arranged and I have no control over the guests coming to my own birthday meal.

I offer to make lunch, but James tells me they stopped off to eat on the way home. I make myself some soup while they all unpack upstairs and have just finished eating when Bridgette calls my mobile. It’s never occurred to me before, but she never calls the home phone. Even when I don’t answer my mobile she always leaves a message instead of trying to reach me here. Have my reports of Dillon and Luke made her so angry that she’s afraid to hear their voices, for fear of lashing out? But whatever the case, I am happy to hear from her and wonder if James has invited her and Debbie over tonight.

“Happy birthday! So what are your plans for today?” she asks. In the background I can hear a man’s voice. Aaron. Things must be getting serious if she’s meeting him on her lunch breaks.

“James is cooking a birthday dinner for me. Are you and Debbie coming?”

“Oh, Callie, I’m so sorry. James did invite me but Aaron’s booked us theatre tickets for tonight. It was a surprise and he didn’t realise it was your birthday. Maybe Debbie’s free, though?”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry.”

“But I want you to meet Aaron. Soon. Are things any better?”

I can’t bring myself to tell her they’re even worse. She will want details and I can’t risk being overheard. “About the same,” I say. “But I’m sorting it.”

She lowers her voice. “And have you confronted James yet? About the text?”

“No, but I will. Soon.”

“Okay. Well, I’m here if you need me. Anyway, got to go. Aaron’s looking at me impatiently and I need to be back at work in ten minutes.”

Afterwards I call Debbie. Tonight I will need all the allies I can get. But I have no luck there either because Mark’s parents are visiting. We say goodbye, with promises to meet up soon, but I wonder just when that will be. Both she and Bridgette are moving forwards in their lives, thriving, while I’m undergoing a rapid decline.

James joins me in the kitchen and fills a glass with tap water. “I have to pop to the shop for a bit. I want to check in with Tabitha and see if the freelancer has been okay.”

Hearing her name makes me shudder, despite what I myself have done. The thought of her and James together ties my stomach in knots. “Okay,” I manage to say.

He comes closer to me and I long for his hug, anything to show we are still connected. But when he does hold me it is a stranger’s hug. “Sorry I haven’t had a chance to get you a present yet. But I will, Callie.”

I want to tell him not to bother, but nod instead, forcing myself to smile. “Thank you. That sounds lovely.”

He turns to leave but I grab his arm, pulling him back. “James, we need to talk, don’t we?”

“Yes, we do.” His sighs. “But can we do it another day? I’ve just got no space in my head. The boys have exhausted me and…Is that okay?”

There is no point pushing him. I will wait; I need more time to get my thoughts in order anyway. Right now they are a jumbled, confusing mixture of James, Rhys, the boys, Tabitha, Dad, Mrs Simmons and even Bridgette and Debbie. It will do no good if I can’t get things straight before I talk to James.

“Will everything be all right while I’m gone?” he asks. He doesn’t have to spell out what he means; he thinks war will break out, or worse. The thought makes me seethe with rage.

“Of course.”

His eyes convey the words he can’t say. That he wants to believe me but can’t. “Oh, I nearly forgot, I better pop next door before I go.”

He has changed the subject so abruptly that it takes me a moment to catch up. “To Mrs Simmons’? Why?”

“She popped her head out the door as we pulled up and asked if I had time for a quick chat. I told her I’d just be a moment but I completely forgot.”