‘Think you’d know by now, Amy, that I don’t know the meaning of the word no. And that guy’s a tool. Three years, Amy, three years and he did fuck all, except drain somebody’s pockets.’
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flashy mobile phone. He hands it to me. Then he slides out a small black card. He chucks it on the table in front of me. I can see his name and number. It’s scribbled in gold writing.
‘If you ever have a panic attack — call me. I’ll come down and sit with you.’
Yes, I think, like that is going to happen.
‘You think you can save me?’ I say.
‘I don’t think. I know.’
‘You’re not Superman. You know that, right?’
‘Yeah . . . but I’m damn close.’
I pick up the card and turn it over and over in my fingers. It’s all hard edges, smooth and slick.
‘About your mum’s funeral —’
‘Please, don’t push me. I can’t go.’
‘Amy, the post-mortem said it was a heart attack.’
Of course it was. A heart like hers, fighting so hard to keep us together. What else could it do but fail in the end?
‘If you don’t go to the funeral, you may regret it. You should think about it carefully. She’s your mother, Amy.’
‘Yes . . . she was my mother once.’
I can’t go to the funeral, not if Elizabeth is there. It wouldn’t be fair to her. And if Dad is there, it would be unbearable.
He shakes his head, confused. ‘Tell me about it,’ he says.
‘Tell you about what?’
‘What started it all? Why did you father bring you here? Is this to do with what happened to your sister? I mean, that’s when you came here, right? When she had her accident.’
I don’t answer. I can’t answer.
‘Or was it me?’ he says. His dead eyes turn a different shade of brown. ‘Did this start after I . . . ’
Dead silence. Neither one of us can speak of the betrayal. There is a curse on the past. It’s cursed to say it out loud.
As Shepherd appraises my hurt, our eyes meet.
I can’t help it, never can, as it is when Shepherd looks me deep in the eyes. Those eyes that are just too black or something, this is when I always lose it. Lose reason. Lose a semblance of control. Those eyes never show much, always so cold and always so piercing. But now they show something. Maybe an apology. No, not an apology. Shepherd doesn’t do apologies. Maybe just something else. Lust, maybe. Need? Friendship? It’s been a long time.
‘Do you remember Archer? My sister’s boss and my father’s friend?’ He nods. There is silence. He is watching me, waiting. ‘Elizabeth and he were in a secret relationship. Despite the thirty-year age gap, they were planning to get married. She’d bought a wedding dress. It was a secret. My parents could never find out.’
‘I don’t understand. If they were getting married, how could they keep it a secret?’
Sucking in air, each breath is painful. But not as painful as the memories, now so close to the surface.
Silence.
From outside, an owl hoots.
‘I should sleep,’ I say.
‘Yeah, you should. I’m staying with you tonight.’
Suddenly, I feel too hot. Too electric. Too high. The smell of him becomes too sweet, too heady.
There is a bad desire growing in me, and I hate who I am. I could hurt myself. Really. Because I want him to take me to bed and burn the pain away. Turn me to dust so I can’t feel it. Just one more time.
Last time.
I need him to help me forget my checks, my sister’s brain damage, the Black Magic Box.
My fault. My fault. My fault.
Sex with him is toxic. It’s like taking another line of cocaine, just after the first hit. So I lie about how I really feel in my heart.
‘Really, I’ll be alright now. Thank you for the tea, but I’d like to be alone.’
For a moment his hard eyes soften and he says, ‘Before. In the woods, you wanted me. You were there because you wanted me, and your pussy was hot in my hand and you were breathing hard. Yeah, you were a little scared, but you wanted me to fuck you. No reason we can't get back to there.’
My heart gallops and my jaw drops to the tips of my toes.
‘Relax, Amy. For now, you need to sleep. Don’t worry about the later.’
I open my bedroom door and hesitate just inside the room. Dark curiosity wakes up in the back of my head. I turn back to him. ‘Can I ask you a personal question?’
‘Go on.’
‘That night . . . why did you set me up for a fall?’
The mist in his eyes is too thick to see the truth. ‘Sometimes, Amy, you have to be cruel to be kind.’
He smiles. And I know not to trust it. It’s all a trick. It has to be. Always is with him. I know his real smile. I can never forget. In all those hours spent in the broom cupboard together, his smile was once in a blue moon. And so I remember it. It was like trying to catch it like a butterfly. I wanted to bottle it up forever, so I would never forget it.
I look at him. And his fake smile. Nothing is what it appears to be with him. Not anymore.
I just shake my head sadly and suddenly I’m torn by the wish that Shepherd will come and take me, and wrap his large body around me and tell me it’ll be okay — and the pitiful desire to have made the opposite decision and be as far
