To Murder Matt (20 page)

“My, what a charming picture you both make. Dean you are impossibly gallant, but you really must curb that suspicious mind of yours. We have only been married a few weeks; still in the honeymoon phase, aren’t we Cherie?”  He paused, “Do you really think I would hurt my lovely new wife? You certainly wouldn’t want me to get the wrong idea about you two, and we wouldn’t want it to affect our business together, would we, old chap?”

“There is nothing going on Matt. Ellen is like my sister.”

“Yes, I’m sure. If anyone understands about sibling love, it is me.”

“I think I had better go.” Dean looked at Ellen, and walked passed Matt, towards the door.  Ellen followed behind, but said nothing.

Outside, Dean sat in his car, and looked at their front door. He had lied to protect Ellen, but wasn’t sure if Matt had believed him. He started the car and returned to Hamble.

V
eronique woke up feeling awful. Her whole body felt ill and the room was spinning. Sitting up in bed, she felt the bile rising to her throat and ran to the bathroom to be sick. She groaned as her stomach cramped and she felt another onslaught. Her mind was working frantically trying to recall all the meals she had eaten in the past few days.  She had eaten nothing unusual. Steadying herself against the sink she rinsed her mouth of the horrible taste. Cold water splashed against her and cupping her hands she splashed the ice water on her face. It did not make her feel any better; neither did she feel refreshed.  Turning off the tap, she looked at herself in the mirror. She didn’t look ill, just dishevelled from her sleep. She returned to the bedroom and lay in the cool darkness of the room; dozing lightly she slept until her alarm went off. Feeling exhausted she dragged herself out of bed and padded through to her shower. Everything was fine until she decided to clean her teeth. The taste of the minty freshness made her stomach lurch and she held onto the sink for support as her whole body reacted to the taste. Before she knew it, she was bent double as her stomach heaved and she retched over and over again.  It was only a minute or so, before she had her head down the toilet bowl, her hands across her stomach which was cramping as though there were no tomorrow. 

Considering she was never ill, it must be a terrible virus she thought to herself. Feeling even worse than before, she returned to bed and got in. Feeling along the side table she found her mobile and dialled Dean’s number.

“Dean. I am really sick. I can’t come in today.” From her croaking weak voice, he knew she was not feeling her best.

“Do you need anything? I can pick it up and pop it round.”

“Not at the moment, but thanks.”

“I can drop by later on my way home so if you do change your mind, let me know.”

“Thanks Dean. My mobile is by my bed if you do need me.”

“Ok. I will talk to you tomorrow unless I hear otherwise.”

“Thanks again.” She lay back and pulled the covers up to her chin.  She still felt really odd and her stomach was swollen and throbbing.

The phone rang, and she woke up, and answered.

“Hi it’s me. Just on my way home, and just wondering if you need me to pick anything up for you.”

“On your way home?  That’s early isn’t it?”

“Actually, no. I worked late.”

“What time is it?”

“It’s eight at night.”

“What?  It can’t be.”

“Why?”

“I haven’t got up yet, and it means I slept all day.”  Dean laughed.

“You
are
ill. That is what you are supposed to do when you are ill. Rest.”

“But that’s beside the point. I don’t remember ever being so tired before.”

He laughed again and Veronique suddenly felt foolish. She was glad he couldn’t see her beet red face. He hung up after a few exchanged pleasantries and she got up again and went to the bathroom.  She looked worse than before, tired and drawn.  Being on her feet made her feel queasy and so she returned to the sanctuary of her bed. She lay awake and looked at the ceiling, looking for answers to the questions bombarding her thoughts.  When was her period due? Quickly she took out her diary and leafed through the pages. Back a week, then another then another, the weeks passed, then the months, one month, two months. Three? Four? She had forgotten to mark her diary. The stress of leaving the ship, the new job, settling in to her new flat and learning her job, the days had just flown by. She had totally forgotten all about it. Had she just forgotten to write down her dates? She couldn’t even remember the last time she had her period.  If she hurried, she could go to the local late night pharmacy and grab a pregnancy test. A test would be the only way to eliminate the nagging thought from her brain. Besides she was sure she wasn’t pregnant.  Even the word felt heavy. It was just a precautionary test. Getting out of bed, she dressed, all the time looking at her stomach, prodding it and feeling it.

The drive back seemed interminably long. The pregnancy test sat in the passenger seat ominously. It seemed to glow under the streetlights as she drove.

At home, as she unwrapped the test, her hands shook to the point where she had to stop and breathe slowly to calm her nerves. She really didn’t want to do the test and yet she had no choice. If she were pregnant, who would the father be? There would, could only be two options. Nico or, and she didn’t want to think of this option, Matt, her brother.  Her palms were slick with perspiration as she did the test and then she sat there and waited for the results to show.  She stared in total disbelief when it came out positive.  She grabbed the instructions, reread them, took out the second test and did it again. There had to be a chance of a false reading the first time. There had to be a mistake, had to be. It couldn’t be happening. She sat on the edge of the bath and waited again.  Again the results showed positive.  For the first time in her life Veronique cried for herself.  She cried until the tears came no more. She sobbed until her body could sob no more, then she decided to act.

In the morning, after a night of staring at the ceiling where the pregnancy test had taunted her from the side in the bathroom, she got up. She went into the bathroom to shower. She tried to ignore it and then in a fit of anger, threw it in the bin. 
You are pregnant! Pregnant!
Her mind repeated over and over again. Her body convulsed and she retched into the toilet.

Dean looked up as Veronique walked into the office.  She had obviously tried to do something with her hair and makeup, but she definitely looked really ill, very pale and tired.

“I think you should have stayed in bed today. You don’t look well at all. I don’t want to catch whatever it is that you have.”

“Oh there is no way you can catch this bug,” she said wryly. “I will be better in a few days.”

“You really look awful, you know.”

“Mmmm, thanks, that’s good to know; I feel so much better now.”

“No, really. You don’t look well at all.”

“And yet another positive statement. You really are very good at this, Dean.” She sat down, and started to work. She took out the papers she needed to work on, and set to checking the various clauses in the contracts.  He looked concerned, and she smiled at him weakly from her desk.

The next thing she knew, she was waking up with Dean’s hand on her shoulder. He was gently shaking her.

“I really think you need to see a Dr. Veronique. You fell asleep a few hours ago.”

“Oh, I am so sorry. I didn’t realise.”

“No of course you didn’t. Some bugs take it right out of you. You should be at home in bed.” Veronique felt the bile rising in her throat, and her stomach started its convulsions again. She jumped up and ran through to the bathroom. Dean watched her as she ran passed him. When she returned, he was holding her jacket and looking stern.

“You, young lady, are going home. I shall take you myself, and I don’t want to hear another word from you.”

Veronique lifted her arms and slipped her hands into her jacket. Everything felt so heavy, her limbs were double their weight. It was as though her muscles had lost all their strength. She just felt so tired.

“It’s just a twenty-four hour bug,” she said.
‘Twenty-four year bug, more like,’
her mind said. She shook her head and denied her thoughts.

She glanced across at him, could he see a difference? Did she look different? Could he tell?  Chances are everything would sort itself out in a few days; it was just a false alarm. Tomorrow, her period would start, and she would laugh at the last few days.

Over the next few days, her period didn’t start, as she had hoped, nor did it over the next few weeks. She put it down to stress and carried on working. She was doing well at work, and the clients loved her efficiency and professionalism.  Her life was so different from working on the cruises, and whereas before people had always surrounded her, in Hamble she kept herself to herself. She worked and went straight home. She knew no one in the area except a few neighbours. Dean and the clients were her only contacts. She hadn’t told anyone where she was, nor was anyone aware she had changed her identity.  Her heart ached to see the familiar faces of friends, but she also knew that she couldn’t go back. Marie had been getting too close to finding out the truth, too close to finding out about her life of shame. Of everyone in her life, Marie knew her better than most.  Veronique even thought of Nico, of how he had tricked her into his bed, of how when things had happened with Matt, he was the one man she could lean on, the one man who had supported her unquestioningly.  Just as she was beginning to trust him, she had had to disappear and leave him behind. Of everyone, she missed him the most and now she wondered where he was. Matt, when she thought of him, brought only feelings of hatred to her mind. She wished him dead with all her heart. Thoughts of his body lying torn, and mangled, in a ditch somewhere, would normally cheer her up. Before she had left, he had been becoming and acting more and more crazy, more extreme towards her. He had beaten her up many times, but never to the point of near death. And Dean, sweet loyal Dean. He would never know how grateful she was to him, how he had given her a life, a purpose and friendship. He was another of life’s good men.

Only one thing ruined her perfect life now, and that was that Matt knew where she was. He could turn up at any time. She wished so many times that she had not gone to the wedding. She had thought it would just be an innocent evening out, a social evening, which would pass some time. Never in a million years, could she have guessed it would lead her straight into Matt’s path. She shivered at the thought. She had wanted to run when she realised, in the church, but she had been boxed in by other guests, and when Matt had seen her; it was as though she was rooted to the spot; the fear rising up and curling at her like tendrils and branches from a tree.  She had looked at Dean, whose eyes were so fully on Ellen, that she recognised his feelings in an instant.  His world revolved solely around Ellen. The love he felt for her was palpable. Who could blame him?  Ellen was a classic beauty; she had poise, money, and a good family. She knew instantly what had attracted her brother to Ellen, money.  She knew it wouldn’t be love.  Matt didn’t know how to love; it was not in his emotional vocabulary. He only loved money, wealth and power and what they could bring him. She knew instantly that Ellen was a pawn in his games.

“Dean?” She had leant and whispered to him as Ellen had walked passed, the wedding march playing. “Can we leave?” He looked at her aghast.

“Not yet we can’t” He looked at her as if she was crazy.

“Oh.”  It seemed a lifetime for the marriage ceremony to happen, and then Matt and Ellen had gone through to the vestry to sign the register. When they emerged, and started back down the aisle, that was when Matt had first seen her. He had recognised her immediately.  She had felt like a frightened rabbit caught in the headlights of an on coming car. She knew too, that everything she had done to escape him was now completely in vain. All her efforts wasted. In one foul swoop, he had her back in his targets, and his eyes glittered menacingly at her, a hungry triumph in his gaze. He was bound to trace her now, and she realised in that moment, that she would not run any longer. She had made the change, and this was now her life, and she was going to fight for it.  He would not drive her away again.

The telephone rang, and interrupted her thoughts. It brought her back to the harsh reality of her situation. She crossed the room and answered.

“Hello?”

There was a click, and then the sound of the dialling tone. She slammed the receiver down. Her blood had just run cold. If he had her number, did that mean he would have her address too? If she hadn’t gone to the wedding, she would only have one thing on her mind, but now, now she had two problems to resolve.

At the doctor’s office, she gave her real name. Her brother would never expect to find her at a Harley Street gynaecologist.

“Doctor, I am here because I am pregnant.”  He smiled knowingly.  She bristled at his smile. It was so condescending.

“A lot of my patients are.”

“I want an amniocentesis.”

“We don’t do many of those and I don’t think you are in a risk category.”

“It’s a family gene. I need to check for hereditary diseases.”

“Yes we can do that, but you know the test itself is not without certain risks. It could bring about a miscarriage and all for nothing.”

“That is a risk I am prepared to take doctor.”

“Mmm.” He checked his diary. “Come back the day after tomorrow at eleven a.m.  It will take a few days for the results to come through.”

“Doctor, if there is a problem, I will want an immediate abortion. I am adamant about that.”

“There is no need to talk so. We haven’t done any tests yet and I am sure everything will be fine. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. All expectant mothers feel afraid.”

She bristled again at his words, but ignored him as best she could.

A few days later, taking a few bags with her, Veronique felt such apprehension. Inside her was a ‘thing,’ a life that was growing independently of her wishes, and yet was totally dependent upon her. It could be a perfect baby, with the perfect fingers, and toes, or it could take after her brother Matt, and come out a monster, mentally deformed by his evil. Its mind already twisted genetically, by his. She shivered in disgust at the thought of her brother. Checking into the doctor’s office, she undressed, got into her hospital gown, put on the hair cap, and lay on the bed. A few moments later, the doctor entered the room wearing his scrubs, and a face mask and cap for his hair. Behind him another person, a nurse, followed closely. The nurse rubbed a cold jelly type substance on her stomach and she felt the area going numb. Veronique looked up at the ceiling; wishing herself anywhere, but on this bed.  She felt a needle entering her, and passed out through simple fear.