The only way to quiet the ringing of the phones was to switch on the auto-answer service. Tori recorded a new message saying the surgery was closed due to unforeseen circumstances and all clients would be informed of any changes to their appointments.
We put a sign saying the same in our window, but it didn’t stop the banging against the shutters – shouts from eager journalists looking for comment. Business cards were slid through the letter box along with hastily scribbled notes on jotter pages asking for exclusivity in return for money and/or a sensitive approach to the story.
Owen became more agitated with the arrival of each one – so Tori and I simply stopped telling him about them, tearing them up and throwing them in the bin. As we worked together through the client list for the following few days, we sat mostly in silence. I suppose it was one of those situations where there was so much to say that none of us knew where to start.
Owen locked himself in his office. Told us he needed some space. He’d get some paperwork cleared up, he said. He looked utterly broken but we respected his wishes to be left alone.
‘Do you think …’ Tori asked as we neared the end of our list, ‘do you think this means she was involved in Kevin McDaid’s death too?’
I shrugged my shoulders. It seemed unthinkable – but then again the thought that she had been in anyway responsible for Rose’s death seemed so completely far-fetched as well.
‘I don’t understand any of it. I suppose, maybe? But it all seems so unlike her.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Tori said. ‘I just can’t get my head around it all, Emily. None of it. That she would do that? But maybe if he had been blackmailing her or something? I mean, if she paid him to hurt Rose and then he wanted more money? You can’t trust people like that. I suppose you’d do anything if you were desperate. But still …’
Anything if you were desperate. How scared must Donna have been when it all went so spectacularly wrong? She must have been crucifying herself with guilt all this time. Or maybe she wasn’t? Maybe she was delighted she had Owen all to herself now? To think she could have been involved in killing Kevin McDaid – that was up close and personal. That moved her to a whole other level. I shuddered at the thought of how I was welcoming her into my life, craving friendship with her, trusting her and feeling sorry for her and meanwhile she could have been plotting all sorts. If Rose, her best friend, hadn’t been safe, who could be?
‘You never really know people, Tori,’ I said. ‘But maybe we shouldn’t try and guess what happened – I’m sure now she’s with the police it will all come out.’
‘She’ll go to prison for a long time,’ Tori said, shaking her head and then, lost in her thoughts, she went back to her work.
After an hour and a half, we were almost done. I told Tori she could head home if she wanted and I would finish things off. She was only too keen to leave, and did so sneaking out of the back door to avoid any random journos waiting in the street, but not before hugging me tightly and telling me to take care of myself.
Gingerly I knocked on the door of Owen’s office – thought I would see how he was, offer him a tea or coffee, tell him we were almost done. He called back that I could come in and when I did he was sitting at his desk, files in front of him, mess everywhere. His eyes red rimmed and tired.
‘We’re almost done here,’ I said. ‘Tori has just gone and I’m going to finish clearing up. I was just going to get a cup of tea first. Can I get you anything?’
He shook his head before looking at me and giving a weak, strangled laugh. ‘A time machine?’
‘If only,’ I said.
‘I can’t get my head around it,’ he said. ‘And I’ll never forgive myself.’
‘Forgive yourself? There’s nothing to forgive.’
‘Why didn’t I notice something was off with Donna? If I did – if I had realised, maybe Rose would be here. But I didn’t. Isn’t that just the kicker in all of this? It wasn’t that bastard of a husband, it was Donna. Who was in love with me.’ He shook his head, as if the notion was unthinkable. ‘I knew she was a bit clingy – but love me? I never thought. I was so wrapped up in Rose. Christ, Emily. If I had just left well enough alone, she would still be here. Donna wouldn’t be in the police station. She wouldn’t have done that …’ He shook his head.
‘Owen, you can’t help who you fall in love with. You didn’t have bad intentions and I read those journals too – I saw how hopeful and happy you made her. Do you think, even if she’d known how things would work out, that she would have changed that?’ I pulled a chair up and sat opposite him. ‘You don’t get the chance to be loved very often,’ I said. ‘And you know I’ve made some stupid decisions in my life, just trying to find an ounce of what you and Rose had. Don’t regret that, Owen.’
‘I miss her,’ he said simply.
‘If there’s one thing I know, it’s that it might seem like hell on earth now – and it is hell on earth for you, I’m not trying to say it isn’t – but it can get better. You won’t ever be the same, and parts will always hurt, but this doesn’t have to define you for the rest of your life.’ As I said the words something in me clicked. I had been letting so much of what had happened in my past define me – to factor in every decision every day. What happened with Ben was awful. It was humiliating. It was degrading. It had left me in pieces, relying on alcohol and pills and being branded a flake by everyone I knew. But it didn’t have to define the rest of my life – I didn’t have to let it lead me to make the same mistakes again.
Sitting across from Owen – whose life was crumbling around him – finally made me wake up.
‘I’m going to go get a cup of tea,’ I said, ‘finish up. You should finish up too, Owen. Go home or to your friends or family and let them look after you. Don’t shut yourself away.’
He nodded and as I left the room he called me back.
‘Milk, two sugars,’ he said with a sad smile and I smiled back and walked through to the staff room to put the kettle on.
*
I filled the kettle and while it was boiling, I walked through to the staff room again to get my phone from my locker. I noticed the back door was lying slightly ajar, figured Tori mustn’t have pulled it closed just right when she left. I pushed it shut and locked it before turning back to my locker and putting in my combination. I opened the door and was just slipping my hand in to pull out my bag when I felt a blow to the side of my head that unbalanced me. As my head throbbed and spun, I tried to figure out what had happened. The locker door had been pounded against my head, its cold metal edge cutting into me. I felt a searing pain above my left ear and I reached my hand to it, feeling the warm and sticky sensation of blood on my fingertips. I looked in the direction of the door, trying to get my bearings, and noticed the boots on the ground, the legs, the burly body, the angry face, and the hand that grabbed me by the throat and pushed me hard against the lockers – forcing the air from my lungs.
Cian. His face contorted with anger was all I could see. His face in mine – his breath, hot, sickening on my face. I opened my mouth to call for help and was met with his hand, flat over my mouth and nose – stopping me not only from shouting out but from breathing. I tried to suck air into my lungs, feeling nothing but the suction of his sweaty hand against my face.
‘I knew you were a crazy bitch,’ he said, ‘but this – this, Emily. This takes it to a whole new level.’
My eyes widened with fear. I tried to wriggle from under his touch, fought to escape him, felt the ridges of the lockers rubbing, tearing against my clothes and my skin.
‘Were you in on it? Was this one of your crazy fucking moves, Emily? You and Donna, and probably that bastard Owen too. Taking her from me? And then, instead of being told that bitch has been arrested for the murder of my wife – I have the police arrive at my door with some fucking bullshit about how I’ve assaulted you?’
I could feel my lungs straining, every cell in my body trying to absorb what it could, desperate for oxygen, desperate to breathe. The pain growing inside as my body fought to find what wasn’t there.
‘Oh sweet, naive, stupid little Emily, you have no idea what an assault is. You’ve no idea what I’m capable of. I can make you disappear – just like I made Kevin McDaid disappear.’
He took his hand from my face and I gasped, swallowed lungfuls of air as his grasp on my neck loosened.
‘So you stay quiet, Emily. Or I will. I promise I will – and no one will ever guess. They’ll just think that stupid, lonely, crazy woman topped herself. Which, really, if you think about it, is what you should have done years ago …’ He put his finger to my lips. ‘Oh, Ingrid has told me all about you,’ he said, trailing that finger across my mouth, before cupping his hand under my chin and pushing my head back against the lockers. ‘A real basket case. She spoke to your ex. Did she tell you that? You’re quite the disaster, aren’t you? Do you think anyone would care if you just vanished? Went for a wee swim like McDaid did? I’d say you’d be easier to deal with than him. He fought me at first, you know. You should have seen the look on his face when I cornered him, forced him into my car. He tried to tell me he was sorry – like that would be enough. Hit like a girl. Cried like a girl too. Begged me not to make him do it. Told me he was going to be a dad. Well, that just made me even more angry, you see. Because Rose – well, she was a mother. She could have been a mother again. After that, he didn’t really have a chance. I don’t think he believed I would actually do it though. But he took her away from me, Emily, and you know I couldn’t let him away with that. So, yes, I roughed him up a bit – but I gave him the chance to do the decent thing. Jump himself. I told him to be a man. Even walked him to the centre of the bridge, helped him take his shoes and coat off. I folded it for him you know, while he stood and cried like a baby. Pissed his trousers. He tried to run – so he forced me in the end. He forced me to do it. He could have done it himself but no, he made me push him – tip him over the barrier, smash my fist down on his fingers when he tried to cling on. He didn’t deserve to cling on. Anyone would have done the same. The only fly in the ointment was that the bastard wouldn’t tell me who put him up to it. Said he didn’t want anyone else getting hurt. Some decency in him after all maybe or just no honour among touts. It wouldn’t have made any difference anyway. He wasn’t getting out of it alive. People don’t wrong me and get away with it, Emily.’
My legs were shaking, my hands fisting, trying to grab onto something – adrenaline making all my senses keener. The smell of him. The sound of him. The thump of my heart, the sound of blood pulsing around my body, whooshing in my ears, the sensation of blood from the cut on my head trickling down my neck.
‘And no one is getting out of this, Emily. No one involved in taking her from me.’ He loosened his grip but stood in front of me, in my personal space, so close I could hear his heart pounding along with my own. His face softened, his head tilted to one side. ‘Because I did love her, Emily. I adored her. I would have given her anything she wanted. I did give her everything she wanted – but she was just so fucking ungrateful. Preferred that boring fucking dentist over me. But I would have forgiven her. I would have – we’d have had our baby and we would have been happy again.’
He was crying and for the briefest of moments I saw a glimpse of the man I had fallen for in front of me again. A man who loved his wife. Yes, in a twisted way – but it was love. A dangerous love. One that had tempted me, even if the warning signals had been there.
‘I know you loved her,’ I croaked. ‘You’re a good person, Cian,’ I said, trying to appeal to the man I knew was in there somewhere. ‘Think of Jack. You don’t have to make this worse. You can walk away and I’ll drop any charges, and I won’t tell anyone what you told me about Kevin. I’ll tell the police I lied. I’ll give you that alibi.’
He looked at me for a moment, contemplating what I was saying. ‘Emily D’Arcy,’ he said, sing-songing my voice. ‘Emily D’Arcy – desperate little Emily. Sad little Emily. I really trusted you, you know. I never thought you’d have the balls to tell the police you weren’t with me that night. I thought I’d chosen well when I chose you. You were so … so … nothing.’ He moved closer again, pressing himself against me, his hands around my face, in my hair. He pulled one hand back, looked at the blood on it – a lip curl of disgust forming on his face – before smearing my own blood over my face.
‘You were so, are so, nondescript but oh, so mouldable. You wanted to be her, Emily. You stepped into her shoes in work. Didn’t waste any time trying to be her. Do you think I didn’t notice how you lightened your hair, just like hers? How you so desperately wanted to slip into our lives? Mine and Jack’s – so yes, I used you. I thought I could rely on you,’ he started grinding against me and I felt my stomach turn, fear rising. ‘But you used me too,’ he said, pulling away just slightly – not enough to allow me to escape. ‘It was never me you wanted – it was what you thought I was. What I represented. What you thought I was with Rose – but I could never be that man with you. I could never love you, even though I know that you would be easier to manage than she was. Easier to control. You were so desperate for it. So grateful for whatever crumbs I could throw at you. You made it so easy. You were so easy. A sad little slut. Do you ever think I could fall for you? Just because you dropped your knickers? Come on! You’re a smart girl. You know how the world works. A fuck is a fuck. Yours came with an alibi – which was good. It came with the promise of some childcare and a housekeeper. A win-win. Then Ingrid told me about your very sad past. Just how much you would put up with,’ he laughed, grabbed my face again, whispered in my ear again.
‘You’d have played the game better, Emily. You’re so fucking sad, you’d have let me get away with more. You’d have loved the chance to be paraded around – to boast about me on Facebook. Create another web of lies about how life could be perfect. You wouldn’t have argued like she did – or at least that’s what I thought. Until now. Until you ruined it all by going to the police. And you’re back here? In his uniform? Oh Emily, you have disappointed me so much.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered, desperate to get away, willing to do almost anything to get away – but aware that behind me was a locked door. The shutters were down at the front of the surgery. The only other person in the building was Owen – who was lost in a world of his own grief in an office where he wouldn’t hear what was going on all the way back here. And even if he could – would I want to put him in front of Cian – knowing just exactly what he had done to Kevin McDaid? No, Cian could do anything he wanted to me, right there, and there was nothing I could do to stop him. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered again, tears flowing, head thumping, legs shaking.
‘Kevin McDaid said that too,’ Cian said. ‘But I don’t think he really was. If he was he would have told me about Donna, wouldn’t he? But you – you would do whatever you were told because that’s the kind of person you are. Pathetic. I’d pity you if you hadn’t tried to destroy me.’
‘Please, Cian. Don’t do this!’
‘You have to know I can’t stop now,’ he said, pushing my hair back from my face, curling it behind my ear. ‘I can’t trust you. No matter what you say. If I’m going to be destroyed – well, what is it they say? Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb?’ He reached behind me, pulling my jacket out from the locker. ‘Put it on,’ he barked and I knew this was the endgame. I suppose, just as Rose watched that car approach her at speed, just how she looked as if this was always going to be how it ended – I knew this was how it was going to end for me. I had always known it should have been me – and it would be me.
Crying, gulping in air, I zipped up my coat, watched as Cian pulled my belongings from the locker.
‘Where are we going?’ I asked him. ‘The press have been coming and going all day – someone will see us.’
‘Not if we go out this back door,’ he said. ‘Don’t underestimate me. Unlock the door.’
‘I can’t,’ I said, and I wasn’t lying. I don’t think I ever really understood the true meaning of frozen with fear until that moment. My arms wouldn’t work. My hands wouldn’t move. I could barely keep standing.
‘For fuck’s sake,’ he swore, pushing me roughly to the side so he could reach the door.
He had just turned the key in the lock when I heard a crash beside me, looked down and saw a cup in shards at Cian’s feet. Another thud, and Cian swearing, his hand rising to his head. A plate. A cup. Enough to disarm him – to surprise him – to gain the upper hand. I saw flashes of Owen. Tried to process his words. The police were on their way. Cian turning to rush at him – my body jolting to life, stretching my foot in front of him, tripping him, watching him stumble and try to find his feet, pushing him over, watching him fall, giving Owen enough time to fell him to the ground, enough time for me to follow through and grab his hands, push them flat into his back.
‘You don’t get to hurt anyone else,’ Owen shouted, raising his fist and punching Cian as hard as he could before falling back, sitting on the floor and just looking at Cian Grahame – this man who had ruined so many lives, directly and indirectly, and shaking his head. ‘You had everything. Cian. You threw it all away.’
The sound of footsteps, heavy and urgent outside. The door pushing open. Police officers, armed, tall, dark, looming, everywhere. Someone, DS Bradley lifting me back, holding me to him, telling me it would be okay. He rocked me as I cried and shook and watched Cian be led away. He whispered that I would be okay over and over again until I started to believe it.
I would be okay.