 
# Love Me, Crazy

## Laura Burton

### Contents

First in the 'Love me' Series

Dedication

Prologue

1. Chapter One

2. Chapter Two

3. Chapter Three

4. Chapter Four

5. Chapter Five

6. Chapter Six

7. Chapter Seven

8. Chapter Eight

9. Chapter Nine

10. Chapter Ten

11. Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

A Note From the Author

Love Me, Sweetie

# First in the 'Love me' Series

Love Me, Crazy

By Laura Burton
The characters and themes within this book are fictitious and any likeness to actual events are purely coincidental. The author holds all the rights to this work and its contents may not be duplicated without written consent from the owner of these rights.

This book was written in the author's mother tongue, English UK.

Copyright © 2013 Laura Burton

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All rights reserved.

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  Created with Vellum

# Dedication

For Ross, because you drive me crazy, and I hope you always will.

# Prologue

07 January 2033

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The newly-washed Mercedes Benz approached the road beside the little church, splattered with streaks of mud up the sides from the road. The tires splashed into a large puddle by the curb and showered two young girls, who -desperate to have the first peek at the bride- were standing too close to the edge. They squealed and ran back into the church, their chiffon dresses dripping as they went. The engine idled as a tall gentleman, dressed in a sharp black tuxedo, eased out of the driving seat and walked around the car, careful to avoid the shiny white ribbons adorning the bonnet and opened the side door.

White satin stilettos stepped out of the car and disappeared beneath the skirt of a long, ivory gown as a bride stepped out. The young woman touched her golden hair with her gloved hands to check it was still swept up in a loose bun at the side of her head. Wispy fly-away hairs cascaded down her defined cheeks to her collarbone.

'Sophie darling,' called out her mother, as she walked around the car to her side, holding a bouquet of forty roses. Her hair was cut to her jawline into a neat bob and her face wrinkled ever so slightly as she smiled warmly at her daughter. She handed the bouquet to her and said,

'Now don't lose this, I was up all night making it for you,' Sophie's green eyes shone brightly as she smiled sheepishly back and took the roses into her hands. It was surprisingly heavy and glistened in the daylight, each rose sporting a diamond.

'It's beautiful,' was all Sophie could say. She looked up across the cobbled path, between the cemetery gravestones and eyed the old chapel standing before her. A short, bald man in a suit holding a camera far too large for his stature, hopped around snapping pictures from every angle.

'That's it love, look at me now, give us a nice big smile' he said with energy. After a few minutes of this, the mother flicked her hands at the man and said,

'That's enough Freddie, will you go and wait inside please, I want to have a word with my daughter'. The man bowed and walked down the path towards the chapel at a fast pace. Sophie turned to her mother; finding it suddenly difficult to breathe.

'Mum, this is really happening,' she said with wide eyes. Her mum held her cheek with her right hand and gripped her arm.

'My darling, you're not having second thoughts, are you? It's going to be alright!'

'No, I'm not having second thoughts!' cried Sophie, she looked out at the chapel as she bit her lip.

'I was just wondering... how do you know that everything is going to be alright? I have this feeling like it's too perfect, you know? Like Something bad is going to happen... I'm sorry -I'm just suddenly freaking out and I don't know what to do!' Sophie rambled as she fiddled with her veil.

Her mother gave Sophie a look, her face smiled but her eyes looked concerned. Suddenly, their heart-to-heart was interrupted by a downpour of rain and the driver – who had been standing awkwardly beside the car the whole time – suddenly pulled out an umbrella from the glove box of the car and ushered the women into the chapel. There was a small side room before the main hall. Sophie walked inside, followed by her mother. The room was quite plain, with nothing but a small table and two chairs and a simple vase of artificial flowers sitting on a doily on the table. Organ music could be heard playing in the chapel hall and the light mumbling from the guests told Sophie that she needed to pull herself together quick, people were waiting. Nick was waiting. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought.

'Sit down,' Sophie's mother said gently, as she too, sat down. Sophie placed her bouquet on the table and watched the damp rose petals leave a wet patch on the white linen tablecloth.'Sophie, my darling.' her mum began softly. Before she could continue, the door opened, and an usher came stumbling into the room and looked at the two women with a startled expression.

'What on Earth are you doing? We're talking in here!' snapped Sophie's mother at the young man.

He gulped and muttered apologies before saying in a very small voice, 'Everyone is just – err - wondering why you aren't coming in?'

Sophie stood up quickly and attempted to brush out the creases on her dress. Then she picked up her flowers and motioned for her mother to stand too.

'I just needed a moment, I'm ready now, Patrick-' she said in a high voice. Sophie's mother gave the young usher a reproachful look.

'Listen to me, my daughter will be in there when she's in there! It is tradition for a bride to be late, and that clock says I've got at least thirty minutes with her until we have to go in. Now go and entertain the guests.' The usher nodded apologetically and disappeared, the door closing behind him. Sophie sat back down and relaxed her shoulders a little. Her mother joined her at the table again and took her hand.

'Have I ever told you the story about your father and I?' she asked.

'You both met each other at a party, fell hopelessly in love and decided to get married three weeks later, yes I remember,' Sophie replied dully.

Her mother shook her head with a smile.

'Oh, my dear, it was nowhere near as rosy as that. I think it's time you know the full story.'

## 1

# Chapter One

The 'Meet Cute'

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Bristol: 02 March 2012

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I remember the day when I first saw your father as vividly as if it happened only yesterday. I was working as a teaching assistant at one of the private schools in Clifton. Every morning, I would get the bus into town and walk up the huge hill along Park Street to get to work. On the way, I would stop in the same coffee shop. It was quaint and dimly lit, nice and cosy. The ceiling had low wooden beams and there were far too many tables crammed into the small space. It was my favourite place to sit and have their calorie-packed hot chocolate, with lashings of whipped cream on top-it really was indulgent.

It was a seemingly dull day; the clouds were thick in the sky and the people were particularly miserable about the lack of sunlight we had that year. I kept to myself and buried my head into a book, Jane Eyre - to be precise - and then something made me look up. A bell rang as the door opened and in stepped a young man wearing a waxy leather jacket and holding an Oakley laptop bag by his side. He strode confidently over to the counter and smiled in a relaxed fashion as he looked up at the menu. I was facing him, but he didn't see me staring with my mouth hanging open. He had a dimple on his chin and a strong forehead, slightly shielded by his jet-black hair. I watched, transfixed as he ordered a hot chocolate and nestled down into a comfy chair across from me. He opened his bag and pulled out a black chunky laptop and set it down on the table in front of him. Then his face was heavy set in a brooding fashion as he took a sip of the hot chocolate, licked the cream off his upper-lip and started to type. I stared at him so long – trying to build the courage to talk to him - that it made me late for my first class.

The next day, I hurried to the coffee shop, ordered another hot chocolate and sat down in the same seat facing the door. The upbeat tunes coming across the radio seemed to reflect my mood as I waited anxiously to see if this new mystery man would come in again. Long minutes passed and my hot chocolate became cold. I gulped it down quickly and started to read the last chapter of Jane Eyre, keeping a chameleon eye on the front door and jumping whenever the bell jingled as someone walked in. I finished the book, checked my watch and with a slight tinge of disappointment, dashed out of the door and headed up the hill towards the school for another day. I marched through the black gates, along the cobbled driveway leading to the cluster of old houses which were converted into Clifton High, my home away from home. My heels clicked on the marble floor in the grand hall as I walked. It sported a large central staircase and various corridors leading to the classrooms. The bell rang, and a swarm of girls dressed in blue checkered skirts and navy jumpers came from every direction. The sound of excited babble and squeals ricocheted off the high ceiling and snapped me out of my thoughts.

Mrs. Callingham appeared from the top of the stairs and stretched her arms out to the girls below.

'My dear girls,' she called out, everyone stopped moving to listen to the shrill voice of their adored Headmistress.

'Please take care to show your respect for these halls as you walk to assembly,' she continued in her Queen's English accent. The girls gave hushed giggles as they filed into the narrow hall towards the assembly hall. Today was when Reverend Hale was due to make his address. He was a stout man, with a snout for a nose and a drawling tone in his voice. His speeches were less to be desired first thing in the morning. Students have been known to fall asleep, one girl even slid off her chair and flopped onto the floor, though the rest of the girls in assembly were only aware of her when she snored loudly- the sound magnified thanks to the excellent acoustics in the hall.

The main hall was large enough for the whole school to be seated in with a stage at the front and a balcony at the rear. The classes of girls were sat in rows and the teachers perched themselves on chairs along the edges of the hall. A panel of 'important' people sat on stage where four chairs were seated; these included the Head Girl, Deputy Headmistress and Mrs. Callingham herself. The speaker due at that assembly occupied the fourth chair. As I took my seat near the back exit, I could see a tall, skinny man, sporting a reverend attire and clutching a small book in his nimble hands. Reverend Hale was not on the stand. I wondered what happened to him.

With everyone seated, the organist began playing and the girls started to sing, _'Here I am, Lord'_. It was my favourite song in the hymn book. I couldn't say I was particularly religious at that time but something about the song resonated with me. Especially the promise included in the final line of the song.

_'I will go Lord; I will keep your people in my heart'._

There is nothing more beautiful, than the ideology of serving others and caring about everyone enough to 'hold them in your heart'. I suppose that was one of the first occasions of my young adult life that opened me up to the idea of love and what it truly meant to love. I was consumed in my thoughts of the essence of love and how often the word is thrown around in language and not truly felt. Is love a thing? Is it a verb? Or is it a nice idea? If I was 'in love', what would make me 'fall out'? And is love alive? If not, then how can it die?

My thoughts were interrupted again with the sound of Mrs. Callingham's shrill voice.

'Good morning my dear girls, as you can see, Reverend Hale is not with us today. Unfortunately, he suffered a severe heart attack last night and will not be delivering his sermon today,' An air of shock and guilty relief filled the air as the girls turned to each other and started to whisper their own theories of what Reverend Hale must have been doing when he suffered the heart attack and who might have found him. 'Maybe he was bible bashing,' sneered one of the girls. A red-headed girl grinned and whispered, 'Or maybe he was "exercising",' she said with a wink and laughed as the girls around her gasped and covered their mouths in surprise. I leaned forward and looked at them with a stern expression and said in my best authoritarian voice,

'Enough of that girls, listen to Mrs. Callingham.' I couldn't help but feel selfishly grateful that we were spared another boring sermon as the headmistress continued.

'Here we have Reverend Pembleton, he will take over for Reverend Hale for a while and so I am pleased to announce that he will be addressing us today.' She turned back to give the tall skinny reverend an expectant smile. He cleared his throat and stood up, strode over to the microphone and nodded to Mrs Callingham who took her seat. The hall stayed quiet.

The girls were taking in the appearance of their new speaker; his long pinstripe suit was slightly too big and creased on the legs. His chin was long and pointy like his nose and his straw-like hair was thin on the sides. He wiped his large nose on a dirty handkerchief and placed it back into his trouser pocket.

'Good morning,' he began in a low tone. The room remained still, but for a slight cough coming from the balcony. 'I would like to start with a quote from the good book,' he continued as he raised the small book clasped in his right hand. I withheld the urge to sigh, readying myself for a long speech about doing good to others and a lot of 'thee', 'thou' and 'thine'.

'To be an exceptional golfer, you must start with the basics...' Reverend Pembleton began reading. The room exploded in laughter. Shocked, I leaned forward and squinted, trying to make out what the book was. It had a picture of a golf club on the front. I raised my eyebrows and looked over to Mr Chatworth, the biology teacher sitting on my right. He was clapping and said 'bravo'. Mrs. Callingham pursed her lips and her eyes narrowed, I wondered if she considering whether to have this scoundrel frog marched off the school grounds. The girls and teachers settled down and the room was quiet once more, this time with bated breath as everyone wanted to know what this controversial reverend was going to say next. He gave a slight grin, before setting the book in his suit pocket and leaning into the microphone to continue.

'Now I have your attention, I want to speak to you about something important. Golf. Why? For a number of reasons, but firstly because I like to play Golf, I also know a lot about the sport. And they say that it's always good to talk about what you know.

Golfing is a great skill to have. It is hard to get that elusive hole-in-one. To win at the game, you have to finish with as few points as possible. The more tries it takes to get the ball into the hole, the more points incurred. Like life, we need to indulge in as few sins as possible to win our mansion on high. Sin buries us down with guilt. The more we sin, the more guilt we carry.

Another reason golf is like life, is that there is often more than one path we can choose. Some paths are good or bad, others are less obvious. Sometimes we gamble with a risky path with the promise of a big reward. Other times we are faced with choices that are good, better and best. But how do we determine which path to choose? That's the fun of the game though, you weigh up the pros and cons for a while, then decide on a path, letting it lead you forward. Sometimes we feel out of control or stuck in a bunker with no hope of getting out. In those times, we have to pick up the ball and try again or take advice from a friend with more wisdom and experience.

Last weekend, I was on the green with a close friend. We enjoyed the first few holes, but I found my ball was stuck in a ditch. There were thick trees ahead of me and I needed to hit the ball hard to get it out. My friend had walked on past the trees, I could not see him, but I heard him call out to me. "Aim for the right," he said confidently. I knew that the hole was in fact, to the left of my position, so this advice seemed absurd to me. Still, I trusted my friend and though I did not see him nor what he was looking at, I knew that he could see a better path for me than I could. I hit the ball hard out of the ditch and over to the right. It shot through the trees and ended up out on the other side. I rushed over to it and found my friend standing there with a smile. The hole was on the far left and my ball was considerably far on the right. At first, I was a little disgruntled and wondered if I had been fooled. Perhaps my friend had given me bad instructions for his own gain. Then I noticed that to the left of my position was a small fish pond. If I had not followed my friend's advice, my ball would have surely been lost in the pond.

We are all blessed with someone who loves us and wants to guide us in our lives. It may be a parent, uncle, grandparent, or a religious figure. It may seem that their counsel is not with your best interest at heart. It might seem that you think you know better. But our knowledge is limited to what we know and see in our current position. So, take heed on your leaders, humble yourselves enough to listen to the wisdom in their words. You may end up better for it.'

It was the most illuminating speech I had ever heard during assembly. Reverend Pembleton became the favourite teacher at the school. Although his physical appearance was awkward and undesirable, the girls swooned at his charisma and inspired choice of words during assembly. That afternoon, I approached Reverend Pembleton in the dinner hall; a babble of girls swarmed him with their dinner trays as we lined up by the canteen and took our plates.

'I very much enjoyed your sermon this morning, Reverend Pembleton,' I said politely. He smiled down at me – now he was close to me, he towered over me and the girls. 'Please call me Tom.' he replied kindly. I blushed like one of the school girls.

'I'm Audrey, but everyone calls me Dee,' I replied shyly. We exchanged pleasantries as we chose our hot meal, a dessert and a piece of fruit. I refused my usual chocolate donut and took a grapefruit instead. It was sliced in half and came with a packet of brown sugar. Mrs Callingham called it 'brain food' and as I was hoping to impress Tom, I felt this was the most appropriate choice because I was not sure what message it must have sent to pile my plate with chocolate donuts.

Tom and I became friends. We found ourselves talking at great lengths about politics, classical music and Tom liked to talk about golf.

Weeks passed by, and though I continued to sit down in the coffee shop on park street in the mornings, Tom joined me. The mysterious man with the laptop bag didn't come back in and remained a fantasy. Tom was kind, and he was funny too. We laughed, and after a month of our morning routine, he placed his hand on mine and asked me seriously.

'Would you like to go on a date?' Nothing could stop me from beaming as I nodded in reply. Tom sat back and grinned like a Cheshire cat. His upper lip dimpled, and his nostrils flared with excitement.

'This Friday? We can go out after school finishes? I know a nice little Italian restaurant in Town.' He said lightly. I rambled on about how nice that would be, and we gathered our bags and headed out of the coffee shop to start walking to school.

Not only did my morning routine become something to look forward to, I enjoyed the school days as well. 'Miss, where is Mr Bloom?' a small first year girl asked me. I was covering for the English teacher one morning; the class was not very big with only 14 pupils to teach and usually involved good debates between the girls. We discussed Thomas Hardy's ' _Far from the madding crowd',_ which then sent my mind wandering toward Tom and how he might be doing with his class. I suddenly remembered that he didn't have a class in the morning, his fifth formers were doing work experience. With that thought, I stared into the distance as the excitable girls debated amongst themselves when I noticed a figure pass by the door window. Hopeful it wasn't Mrs Callingham checking up on me, I jumped in my seat and snapped back to the present and listened to the presentation.

As the end of day on Friday approached, my heart started racing with nervousness. It had been years since I had been on a proper date. My life had been consumed by study and books that boys were never on my mind. My last boyfriend was in high school, Tomas Varela. He was Portuguese, a charming boy who knew how to flatter a teenage girl. I spent many dates just admiring his handsome dark features and soaked in his compliments. 'Your eyes are like stars, they sparkle in the night' and 'My heart stopped beating for a moment when you walked in, your beauty blows me away,' he would chime to me in his beautiful accent. Tomas enjoyed playing the guitar and wrote songs and poems dedicated to me. His words were so sickly sweet that I soon felt tired of how much he enjoyed expressing his feelings to me - which he did all the time. The relationship ended badly, when I found him with his arms around another girl in my class in town, kissing her fully on the lips. It turned out that he had four girls on the go, at the same time. He even wrote them all the same songs and poems — only changing the girl's name.

What should you do on a date? Tom and I got on perfectly well in a casual setting, but what are the expectations within a romantic setting? Were we in the friends' zone? Was I foolish to date him? I enjoyed Tom's company and I was certainly excited to spend time with him, but our height difference was slightly awkward, him being head and shoulders taller than me. Then there was the fact that he was so thin and not especially handsome. Was I even attracted to him? I didn't know. All I knew was that I was attracted to his personality; he had a lovely spirit for sure. Is that enough?

The bell rang to signal the end of the day and the halls and corridors were filled with rushing school girls, eager to catch the school bus home or make their way to the parents, who were waiting to pick them up. I waited in the main hall and nodded to the girls as they passed. 'Bye Miss,' a few of the girls called out to me as they went. The crowds eased, and Tom came strolling towards me. He had changed into a dark suit; this one had been ironed, I may add. I felt a little self-conscious in my pink tartan skirt and silk blouse – the same clothes I wore this morning. I hadn't even thought to change for our date.

'Hi, sorry I didn't bring any clothes,' I rambled awkwardly but Tom shook his head.

'You look lovely-' he started to say quietly.

He watched the last few girls leave the hall and turned back to me. 'Shall we go?' He asked in a cheery tone. We walked out of the hall and strolled down the cobbled driveway. There were a few girls dotted around the green in front of the school, and I saw Miss Garland, the PE Teacher, setting up the courts for her after school tennis lessons. Neatly pruned laurel bushes lined the border of the huge driveway. I stopped walking and stared as one of them shivered for a moment, then a small black cat dashed out of its hiding place and scurried along the path towards the Science building.

'How was your day?' Tom asked politely. He was oddly formal in his manner which was disconcerting. We had spoken with ease until now, until we were on a date. Suddenly, everything felt so forced and strained. 'Oh, fine' I replied, thinking there was nothing extraordinary about my day worth mentioning. 'How was yours?' I asked politely, Tom nodded. 'Pretty usual,' he said. We reached the iron gates at the end of the drive which opened out onto a small side road with cars parked on both sides.

'Actually, Reverend Hale has been making good progress after his surgery, they believe he can come back in a month,' Tom said in a strange tone. He gave me a furtive look as if to read the expression on my face, searching for a reaction. My eyebrows automatically raised as I took a step back. 'Oh, good,' I said, slightly breathless. What does that mean for Tom? Would he need to leave when Reverend Hale returns? Where will he go? Would they continue dating?

Suddenly this date became complicated. Of course, you don't have to work at the same place to date. But at this point, I was uncertain about my feelings towards Tom, and it was only through the day to day interaction that made him grow on me. I couldn't imagine making more of an effort to see him if he wasn't around me all the time.

'Well, I made reservations for 5, and it can take some time to get to the restaurant in rush hour'.

Tom's rambling disturbed my thoughts. I blinked and looked down at my watch. We had 40 minutes to get into the centre of Bristol; it was more than enough time.

'Well, there's no point in taking a car, we only need to walk down Park Street to get to Town,' I offered lightly. It was a pleasant June afternoon, the sun was still shining, and a light breeze ran through the many trees in Clifton. If you closed your eyes, it sounded like waves on the ocean. Tom shrugged with a smile,

'I don't know this place very much, but ok, if you want to walk, we can do that,' he said as we started strolled down the path towards the main road.

Clifton is the sort of place that never loses beauty or dignity. Occupied with only Britain's finest residents, in grand Victorian houses surrounded by matured Oak trees. There were parks dotted around the cobbled streets and perfect strangers greeted each other in the morning. The chip shops would charge a premium for their fish & chips and coffee shops were in abundance. A quaint little cake shop sat near a row of little shops by a large grassy park which the locals referred to as "the Downs". Many a boyfriend would take their girl to the Downs for a cheeky 'first kiss'. Another hot spot for couples was the Clifton Suspension Bridge. It was a creation of Brunel and looked beautiful at night all lit up like a Christmas tree.

We walked along the roads, admiring the scenery and started the long descent onto Park Street. Tom was mostly quiet as we walked, and I felt compelled to break the silence, which led to a short, awkward one-sided conversation until I was left with nothing else to say. I realised that my decision to walk was a bad one, as we would have to endure this long awkward silence after our meal while we walked back to our cars, which were parked outside the school. Not only that, but we would be walking uphill with a stomach full of greasy Italian food. I made a mental note not to eat or drink too much.

Once we entered the centre of Bristol and headed towards the Hippodrome Theatre - which is where most of the nice eating establishments were - Tom got out his phone and checked his GPS.

'I'm not sure where the restaurant is now,' he mumbled. I politely asked for the name of it, as having lived in Bristol my entire life, I was pretty certain I would know the restaurant anyway. Tom shook his head.

'No, I can't remember, I stumbled upon it when I went for a walk a couple of months ago,' he said as he scrolled through different listings on his phone. I wondered how you could make dinner reservations with a restaurant and not know what it was called but thought better than to ask. Tom was in a strange mood and I reasoned that second-guessing him was not the best idea.

We stood there awkwardly as streams of people marched back and forth. Suddenly, my eyes locked with a man who was walking towards me. My jaw fell open as I stared at his face. I knew that face. His blue eyes pierced my very soul. They were kind, deep and intense. He was walking towards me, my knight in shining armour — or waxy jacket and suit trousers – carrying an Oakley laptop bag. It was him. The mystery man I saw in the coffee shop. The world became foggy, while he remained in perfect High definition. I felt my face break into a huge smile of giddiness. He was still looking at me when he winked and gave me a cheeky grin. As he did so, a dimple appeared in his left cheek. Then he passed by me and carried on walking towards Temple Meads – the local train station. Suddenly the world came rushing back into focus and I was overwhelmed by the noise of the traffic and people chatting all around me. Tom was looking at me oddly. 'Are you ok?' he asked in a weird voice. I jumped and stared at him surprised. How long had I been in that dazed state? It felt like seconds, but it could have been much longer for all I knew.

'Yes,' I replied breathlessly. 'I just feel a bit crowded with all these people, do you know where to go now?' Tom gave a sheepish smile in return.

'No, but here's the thing, I didn't make reservations, I don't even know why I said I made them. I guess I'm just nervous, I don't usually do this,' Tom reeled in a shy tone. He didn't normally act like this. What was wrong with us? We had spoken to each other every day for weeks, on every subject matter possible, and now Tom couldn't even tell me the truth? We needed to relax! This was the most tense, awkward date I had ever been on! So, I decided to take charge on the situation,

'How about we just grab a drink in our favourite coffee shop?' I offered kindly. Tom's face relaxed suddenly.

'That sounds great, I'm not even that hungry' he replied as we both turned around and started walking back up the hill.

'This feels... a bit strange, doesn't it?' he continued in a careful voice. I laughed with a nod in reply.

'I don't know how to behave,' I said. Tom agreed. The sun was started to set as we walked hand in hand, and everything had a soft golden hew about it. The air was warm, with a gentle breeze which was calming. Tom's hand felt comfortable in mine. I looked at him and noticed that he was more relaxed now that we were back in comfortable territory.

We came up to the coffee shop and Tom held the door open while I strolled in. The room was filled with students talking animatedly to each other about their day and the atmosphere felt so relaxed and light that I relaxed my shoulders and took a breath. Tom bought us each a hot chocolate while I found a tiny nook with two comfy chairs in the corner of the room, out of the way of everyone else. As Tom paid for the drinks, I dragged my fingers through my frizzy hair and started to daydream about my second encounter with the mystery man. How does he have such an effect on me? Tom walked over, and I eyed him carefully. His straw-like hair was tousled, and he had rings under his dull grey eyes. He smiled, and I smiled back but my heart was like dead weight in my chest. No, it was worse than that. It was numb. A little like the loud banging music thumping in your ears when you have your headphones on the highest setting, and then you listen to the radio in the kitchen. Your ears are still ringing slightly and the simple tones coming from the radio are far less exciting. Something about my encounter with the mystery man with the laptop bag completely rattled me. But now was not the time to brood over such things, I was supposed to be on a date! I mentally shook myself out of my thoughts just in time to hear Tom asking me a question.

"Would you like a slice of cake with your hot chocolate?" he offered. I gave a cheeky grin in response, we both knew the answer to that one. Tom set the two mugs down on the table and turned around while I dipped my finger in one of them and tasted a little whipped cream. It was warm and delicious. As Tom returned to the counter, the brunette at the till eyed him with a strange smile. Her eyes rested on the dog collar at his neck and then flicked back up to his face as she smiled at him. I wondered if she was attracted to him, although the thought didn't bother me, not in the slightest. In fact, the absence of jealousy in me, stirred up a confusion. Why is it that I felt so comfortable and excited to spend time with Tom, Yet he seems to fail to invoke any romantic feeling in me? Had we become stuck in the "friend" category?

The woman at the till handed two small plates to Tom, each holding a mammoth slice of chocolate cake. 'Enjoy,' I heard her say as Tom walked away from the counter back to me. He swaggered slightly to the music and settled in the chair opposite me. I took one of the mugs to my lips and sipped on the creamy hot chocolate. After a few good sips, I licked the cream off my lips and set the cup down again. Tom took a bite out of his cake. 'Mmm' he said as he nodded with approval at the taste. I picked up my spoon and scraped off some icing.

'Dee,' Tom said suddenly. My eyes shot up to his face, surprised at the sound of my name. For the most part, Tom would just start talking to me, he rarely called me by name, and there was something about his tone that unsettled me, it was serious and a huge contrast to the light-hearted, relaxed attitude he seemed to reflect.

'Yes,' I replied, eyeing his face with interest, his eyes intense as they bored into mine. He edged a little closer and leaned over the table, taking my hands in his. They were slightly moist with sweat and bony. My heart fluttered with anticipation.

'I've enjoyed working at Clifton High, and I appreciate the circumstances around it were unfortunate. Though it seems that Reverend Hale will make a full recovery, which is good. The girls are great. It certainly beats teaching a class of students who just don't want to be there. These girls want to learn about religion; they are polite and sweet. It's quite a welcome contrast to some of my previous postings. But mostly, I have enjoyed meeting you and spending time with you each day. I must confess that I look forward to our hot chocolate mornings and get excited each Sunday as I think about seeing you again. You have become a fond part of my life.' Tom's voice was charismatic. His words flowed easily, as his many sermons during Assembly. My heart sighed at the sound of his words. I wondered if he practised this speech in private. He spoke so fluently.

'I know we have only known each other for a couple of months, but I enjoy spending time with you, and I struggle to imagine a future without you in it.' I gulped slightly as the heaviness of his words pressed upon my mind. Tom licked his lips and continued in the sincerest tone.

'I adore you, Dee.' He said. I gasped and smiled in response, clasping his hands a little more tightly.

'Tom – that is so-' I started to say but he shook his head.

'Don't speak yet, if I don't say this now, I may never get it out.' I shut my mouth. Waiting for him to tell me more. Excited to hear more of this delicious monologue. 'I love the way your golden hair flows to the narrow of your back. Your eyes are beautiful and confusing. I think they are green but sometimes they look yellow. I can't help but notice that they shine in the sunlight and they give your thoughts away – you don't realise that. Your eyes are so expressive.' He laughed slightly. I stared back in surprise. Guilt rose in my chest and I wondered how much he read in my eyes after the brief encounter with the mystery man previously. 'I would like to date you, take you to the theatre, you know, 'woo' you.' He started to ramble a little. 'Do you know how sweet-natured you are? I love that about you. Remember how you thanked me for my sermon on my first day? Then you sat with me for lunch and every day since you endure my golf related discussions.' I laughed at that. He didn't understand how much I loved listening to him speak. He could have been talking about wild fungi for all I cared. He was eloquent and drew me in with each syllable. 'I know this might be a little unorthodox, but I would really like to see you on a more romantic basis,' he stopped talking and his face paled. Maybe he suddenly realised that he had divulged too much emotion at once. I however, was smiling ear to ear, drunk on the loving fumes he was sending me with his compliments. My heart was thumping my chest and my hands started to sweat a little in his clammy hands.

'I would love that,' I said softly. Tom looked startled for a moment, then leaned into me and brushed his lips on mine for a brief moment. My lips tingled under his touch, and my body shivered with surprise. I heard a cough coming from the counter and noticed that the young brunette was looking furtively at Tom.

We finished our drinks and enjoyed the chocolate cake while exchanging random thoughts about life and little quirks of the school. The sky was dark outside as we walked out of the coffee shop some hours later. I held my arms, tensing against the cool English night. The street lights glowed like warm fire embers lighting up the path. The road was still full of traffic, now the partygoers were coming out for the night. It was Friday after all.

'What would you like to do?' Tom asked, holding my hand as he walked. I looked up at him, his height over me was more obvious now we walked closely together. I made a mental note to buy some higher stilettos.

'Well, I don't drink, and I don't really enjoy clubbing,' I thought aloud, mostly to myself as I ticked off the places to go out. Tom shrugged his shoulders.

'I'm teetotal as well,' he said simply. I looked at him in shock. Drinking was a huge part of English culture, it surprised me that anyone would be teetotal. Of course, I was because every time I had a drink it made me vomit and I suffered with an irrational fear of vomiting. Now I thought about it, I could not quite imagine Tom sat by a bar, a pint in his hand talking with the lads about Golf. The picture was so out of place in my mind.

'Why do you not drink?' I blurted out. Hoping I wasn't sounding rude. Tom looked thoughtful for a minute.

'My dad was an alcoholic,' he started to say. I gasped and apologised for prying. 'No, it's ok,' Tom said kindly. 'I want to tell you these things,' he continued. I knew that there was a part of him just being nice, but I appreciated it. 'I was sitting my Science GCSE exam when my mum came running into the exam hall, hysterical and crying. The teachers were dragging her out of the hall when she just screamed "he's dead, his father's dead" and the whole hall went dead silent in response. My teacher — or the examiner, whoever it was that was holding my mum back - just let go in shock. She ran over to me, took my hand and we walked out of the hall to the car. I didn't even get to finish my paper.'

'Oh Tom, I'm so sorry, I can't imagine how hard that was for you,' I said softly, rubbing his arm. The hair on his arms was surprisingly soft under my hand. 'So, you won't drink because it killed your dad?' I asked carefully. Tom shrugged.

'He died in a car accident while he was drunk,' he explained. 'The hell he put my mother through, not knowing where he was, the aggression, never reliable, the black outs-Well, there were many factors. I just think that living a teetotal life makes things simpler,' he ended as we reached the road outside Clifton High. Our cars were parked outside the gates; my small Corsa and his Audi estate. I turned to him, he held both my hands in his as I looked up into his grey eyes. They were dark in the street light.

'Is that why you decided to be a Reverend?' I asked softly. Tom thought for a moment.

'My father was a Reverend, actually' he said with a slight laugh. I raised my eyebrows and he smiled strangely back. 'Many of his friends, still have no idea of his... issues with alcohol.'

'They didn't know he was an alcoholic?' I replied incredulously.

'No,' Tom replied simply. Then when he saw that I wasn't convinced, he added, 'He hid it well.' The finality in his tone told me that he was done talking about it. I didn't push him on the subject and leaned in to hug him instead. I was suddenly choking on Tom's musky scent as he held me tightly in his arms. His thin torso was bony, and I could feel his ribs through his shirt pressing against my cheek. The flutter in my chest faded. I tilted my head back to look up at Tom's face and before I knew anything, he was kissing me. His lips were moving awkwardly, and I squinted my closed eyes against his touch, waiting for it to end. Tom leaned back and smiled at me, apparently unaware of my feelings. My eyes didn't give away that much after all, as I broke contact with him and stood back.

'Well, I've enjoyed this,' I started as I got my keys out of my bag and fiddled with them in my hands.

'Do you want to-' Tom started to ask but I interrupted him quickly.

'I need to get back home, I have an early start tomorrow,' I lied. I had nothing to do that weekend, with the major highlight being a good lie in and catching up on my favourite TV Show. Tom nodded.

'Doing anything nice?' he asked. I tried to stop my eyes averting from his and said the first thing that came to my mind.

'I'm driving to my parents' house,' I lied.

'They live in Southampton, right? That's quite a drive,' Tom said mildly. I nodded.

'Well, I'll call you tomorrow night, see how you are?' he said as I unlocked my car and got in. Tom leaned in and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, I smiled in response, and Tom closed the door.

'Bye!' I called out as I started the ignition. Tom was brimming with happiness, waving at me in a jovial manner as I drove away. My smile melted off my face when I turned the corner and headed towards the main road.

The drive to my house was fairly long. The dark country roads past Long Ashton towards Portishead were quiet and allowed my mind to race ahead with other thoughts. It was like I had just been on a rollercoaster. My feelings for Tom were all over the place. I was certain that I possessed no romantic feelings for him, yet when he poured his heart out to me, and when he kissed me the first time, I practically swooned at him. Then, it all changed again. Suddenly, his touch, his scent, his kiss - It was all wrong! Now I had found myself in a relationship with the man. At least, it seemed like it. He was so intense and open with me in the coffee shop. I didn't dare wonder what he wanted to do, but I wasn't willing to find out. I moaned to myself in the car, 'What are you doing, Dee? What have you got yourself into?' I had no idea.

## 2

# Chapter Two

Well, This Is Awkward

* * *

I woke up the next morning with a knot of anxiety in my stomach. Beads of sunlight peeked through the lilac curtains in my bedroom and rested on the silk covers on my bed. My phone was vibrating on the nightstand next to me and I leaned over to see who was calling. It was Tom.

'Hey, Tom! Are you ok?' I said with a high husky voice, it appeared that my voice box still asleep.

'Good morning Dee, Dee,' he said in a sing-song voice. The nickname made me cringe, no one called me 'Dee, Dee,' not since I was a little girl, anyway.

'How did you sleep?' he asked. A yawn escaped my lips as I climbed out of bed and walked out of the bedroom to the lounge across the hall.

'Quite well, thank you,' I replied. 'Are you ok?' I asked again, wondering what prompted this early call. Tom sounded enthusiastic.

'Yes, yes, I was thinking I could come with you today, it's a long drive after all, you may enjoy some company!'

'What?' I asked blankly. Tom took a moment and then said, a little unsure now, 'You said you were driving to Southampton today-to visit your parents?' The knot in my stomach tightened. _Well, it looks like I'm going on a drive today then_ , I thought to myself as I quickly agreed. 'Oh, sorry I'm half asleep, yes! That would be...lovely,' I stuttered.

'Excellent, text me your address and I'll come over right now,' he said, excited.

'Oh, well I don't live in Bristol,' I said slowly as I drew back the curtains in the lounge letting the morning sun pour into the room. I walked into the kitchen and turned on the kettle.

'Where are you then?' Tom asked, jumping me out of my silence.

'Hmm? Oh, I live in Portishead, it's about 40 minutes drive,' I explained. I heard a car door slam on the other side of the phone and the rumbling of an engine.

'I'm leaving now, do you want me to pick something up for breakfast?' he asked, his voice a little serious.

'No, no,' I replied quickly. 'I'm eating now, then I'll send you my address for your Sat Nav and expect you'll be here within the hour,'

Tom agreed, and we ended the conversation. I placed my phone on the countertop feeling dazed and with a sudden gasp, realised that I was taking Tom to meet my parents. How did that happen? The kettle whistled and clicked, I poured the boiling water into a mug and took out a Chamomile tea bag and stirred a little overzealously. First thing I needed to do was call my parents. I looked at the clock on the microwave; it was just after 7am. _Did Tom sleep at all last night_? I wondered, as I dialled the number into my phone. It went to voicemail.

'Hi Mum and Dad, I thought I would come over for a visit today? I'm leaving in the next hour so should be with you sometime before lunch. Call me back on my mobile if you want, otherwise I guess I'll see you later!' I rambled as I put a couple of slices of bread into the toaster.

I stood there, listening to the hum of the fridge as I contemplated my situation. My parents don't know I'm coming to visit them, Tom is now coming with me and what are we supposed to do? All go out for lunch? Like a nice happy family? What am I supposed to say? Tom is my friend? After the previous night, I got the impression that we had left the friend territory. But how could I call him my boyfriend when I recoil every time he holds me close? What is wrong with me?

My phone started to vibrate. I looked at the screen to read 'Mum Calling'.

'Hi mum, sorry to call you so early in the morning!' I started. A bright and breezy voice came jabbering down the phone to my ear. 'Oh darling, it's always lovely to hear from you, your father and I would be thrilled to see you! And we have someone we would love to meet you! He's our accountant actually-'

'Mum!' I interjected, horrified. She was setting me up on a date with her accountant! This was mortifying. 'I don't need a set up-'

'-Oh no, no! It's nothing like that, Jack is just a friend, I promise you it's no set-up my dear,' she continued, unfazed. 'He's coming over this afternoon to discuss some changes we would like to make in our company, and as you gave us no notice about visiting us - and we would so love to see your beautiful face - we will just have to enjoy a lunch together!'

'Oh,' was all I could say in return. Then Tom's face came to mind. 'Mum,' I started hesitantly. 'I'm bringing a friend from work, do you mind?'

'Oh no, darling! That would be marvellous!' she cried.

'Well, that's good then. I need to get ready to leave; I'll call you when I'm close by,' I said as I started to butter the toast.

'Yes, yes, speak to you soon, love you,' she replied, sounding far too pleased.

I hung up the phone and stuffed a slice of toast in my mouth, my mind was full of thoughts as I chewed. What an interesting day this was shaping up to be.

After a quick, uncomfortably cold shower, I dried my hair with a hairdryer and sat on the double bed facing a mirror on the wall. The sunlight streamed in through the windows across my face as I peered into my reflection. My eyes had dark rings underneath them and my fair skin was pasty white from tiredness. I dragged a brush through my long hair, working out the knots and dusted some bronzer on my face to make me look a little less like the living dead. After adding a touch of mascara and lip-gloss I looked a lot more presentable. This was the best I could do, considering the little time I had to get ready. Next thing to worry about, was what to wear. I walked over to the white double wardrobe and opened it to find very little clothing hanging inside. Of course, I had nothing to wear-that would be perfectly normal on a Saturday morning. It was laundry day, after all. I pulled a pair of dark jeans out and yanked them up my legs and over my thighs. The zip went up with some force on my part, and the button fastened tightly over my bloated stomach. 'I'll have stomach ache in a few hours,' I said aloud to myself. But there was nothing I could do. Everything else was dirty. So, they would have to do. I reasoned that I would undo the top button if the jeans got too uncomfortable, as long as my top was long enough to hide it. The only clean top hanging in the wardrobe was a red chiffon blouse. It was a little formal for a lunch with the parents, but again, I was just grateful to have something clean to wear.

The doorbell rang suddenly. I grabbed a pair of black boots and hopped on one foot as I pulled one on my right foot and did the same with the other. 'Coming,' I called out quickly, dashing across the hall to the stairs leading to the front door of my coach house. I grabbed my handbag, threw a phone and some lip-gloss inside and hurried down the stairs. After peeking through the eyehole, and seeing Tom's pointy Adam's apple on his neck, I turned the keys in the lock and opened the door. Tom's thin lips curved into a smile as he looked at me, quickly followed by a 'Wow, you look absolutely stunning,' I blushed genuinely as I struggled to take the keys out of the door and pull it shut. I took a breath and turned to him, 'Thank you,' I said, embarrassed. Compliments were not given to me every day, in fact it was a rare occurrence that anyone said anything nice to me. It was uncommon to find people in Bristol who would openly express their positive emotions. Sarcasm on the other hand, was not in short supply. Tom leaned in to kiss me on the lips, I gave a bashful laugh and turned my face slightly to receive the kiss on my cheek. A look of surprise washed over Tom's face, but he soon shrugged it off and took my hand as we walked around the garage beneath the house to my car.

'I couldn't sleep last night, I've been giddy like a schoolboy, replaying everything over in my head,' Tom said as he bounced on the balls of his feet, waiting for me to unlock the car. I smiled, feeling an uncomfortable lump in my throat as I did. 'Oh, I really enjoyed our date last night too,' I said kindly. We climbed into the car, Tom on the passenger side and closed the doors. I went to put the keys in the ignition, but Tom put his bony hand onto my knee and gave me a serious look.

'You have this effect on me, it's difficult to explain, but it's powerful and I can't get enough of it,' he said as he leaned in to kiss me. The intensity of his words were overwhelming and too much for my tired mind to cope with. I planted a peck on his lips and started the car quickly to avoid any more contact. Tom sat back in his seat and fastened the seatbelt, never taking his eyes off me.

It was the longest drive of my life. Tom talked endlessly about how beautiful I was, the funny things that I do that make him smile-he absolutely fawned over me. 'I just want to cherish you every moment that I'm with you,' he said as we pulled up outside my parents' house. I sighed heavily, feeling a great weight on my chest. Tom was suffocating me; his sentiments were sickly sweet, and I was drowning in them. It was starting to make me feel like that high school girl all over again with the swooning 'Tomas'-

'Well, we're here!' I announced, motioning to the three-storey house across the road. The rose bushes were in full bloom and covered the front of the house completely.

'Wow, what a garden!' exclaimed Tom, eyeing the vast foliage out in the front lawn. I smiled fondly as I looked at the different flowers lining the path up to the blue front door and the birdbath standing on a circle of slate paving stones.

'My parents run a landscaping company,' I said absent-mindedly as I got out of the car. Tom followed suit and started singing its praises. I half-heartedly listened as I stared at the BMW 5 series sat on the driveway. That car did not belong to my parents. It must mean that the accountant was already there.

Tom walked around the car and took my hand. After a brief moment, I moved my hand away and smiled shyly at him,

'Tom, I haven't told my parents about you yet, can we just tell them that we're friends?' I asked quickly. Tom's eyes looked hurt, but he nodded quickly and said,

'Sure we can, no problem.' We walked side by side down the brick path and stood at the door.

I was about to ring the bell when the door opened suddenly and a middle-aged man, with dark bushy hair, and chunky black glasses stood before us and gave me a beaming smile. 'Hello Dee!' He said as he pulled me into a hug.

'Hi Dad, it's nice to see you well,' I said as he kissed my cheek. He eyed Tom with slight suspicion and formally shook his hand.

'Hello, I'm Dee's dad. Mr Williams,' he said. Tom gave a good-natured smile, as always, and introduced himself.

'Hello, I'm Thomas Pembleton, a friend of Dee's from work,' he said. His eyes briefly flickered over to me as he said "friend".

We walked into the house and a short, skinny blonde woman, with narrow features, came bounding towards me and gave me a warm hug.

'Oh darling Dee! I'm so glad you got here safely,' she cried. I hugged back with a big smile, soaking in her familiar scent. She smelt like warm spices and the flowery perfume she always wore on special occasions.

'It's nice to be here, mum,' I said but she had already started talking at great speed.

'Well, everyone is a little early today, but as we are all here, we could do "brunch", I've got some scones in the oven,' Then she looked up at Tom, who towered over the three of us, and she stopped in her tracks. 'Who is your – friend?' She asked me; giving me a severe look as she did. Tom cleared his throat and offered his hand to my mother. She hesitantly took it and they exchanged quick pleasantries. I could sense my mother's voice was a little strained.

'This is Reverend Pembleton,' I announced to mum. She looked surprised.

'Reverend?' she repeated, giving me a quick look, her smile was betrayed by the confusion in her eyes. I wondered if my eyes were so expressive, and that was what Tom referred to the night before.

'Please call me Tom,' he said politely. My mother was lost for words for a moment, giving my father an opportunity to lead us all through the hallway to sit in the lounge. The front lounge was just a small room with a circle of comfortable chairs and a small coffee table in the centre. It was formally the 'entertaining room,' where guests were greeted and where my parents questioned former boyfriends. I sensed that Tom would be subject to the same treatment, that was until I noticed someone sitting in the corner.

'Dee, this is our accountant, Jack Roberts,' my mother announced, her voice now confident and pleased. She had a devilish look in her eye as she grinned back at Tom, who was watching me, searching my face for a reaction. The man stood up and strode towards us. He was slightly shorter than me, with my high heel boots on. His legs were stocky, and he had a muscular physique. His jaw was strong, and his left cheek dimpled as he smiled at me. Then I saw his eyes. Those blue, piercing eyes, under his dark fringe. My jaw dropped as I felt his rough hand in mine, and he shook it firmly. He was smiling broadly, apparently amused at something.

'It's you!' came flying out of my mouth before I could stop it. It was the mystery man with the laptop bag. I looked past his shoulder and saw an Oakley laptop bag sitting beside the armchair he was seated in. There was no mistake, it was him.

'Yes, it's me!' he said, humoured. His voice was incredibly low and sent soft vibrations through my entire being. Our hands were still clasped together. I blushed and took my hand away, looking around the room to see that my parents had seated themselves on a love seat by the window. Tom stepped forward and gave Jack a polite handshake, but his eyes were glaring. 'I'm Reverend Pembleton. I'm with Dee,' he said curtly. I shot him a look.

'We work together,' I added quickly. Jack looked at Tom and back at me and smiled to himself. The look of shock on my face, and intense possessiveness on Tom's must have been amusing. He turned to me,

'Have we met?' he asked. I shook my head quickly.

'I'm so sorry, I don't know what I was saying,' I laughed. He laughed back. His laugh was steady and pleasant, my heart leapt at the sound.

'Wait, I think I remember seeing you last night in Bristol?' he said looking back at Tom, a flash of recognition crossed his face.

'Oh yes, and I've seen you before in the coffee shop on Park Street,' I continued. He looked impressed.

'I don't remember that,' he said thoughtfully, his heavy eyebrows knitted together in thought. My knees were weak and the knots in my stomach had untangled into squirming snakes, making me feel slightly nauseated. It was so surreal to see this mystery man again, and in my parents' house of all places!

'Well, I have a few clients in Clifton, so I'm in Bristol from time to time,' he explained. We sat down, Tom took my hand, but I brushed him away, staring at Jack with complete awe, soaking in everything he said.

'So, you are an accountant?' I asked, broaching for more information. Jack settled down in his chair in the corner and rested his elbows on his thighs as he leaned forward in conversation.

'Yes, I run an accountancy in Reading, my work usually leads me to various parts of the country as I like to visit my clients. We offer a more personal service,' he explained in his low, calming voice.

'I bet you are good with numbers then,' I said with a laugh. I noticed my mother roll her eyes to the side of me; Tom didn't move a muscle, he was sat far too straight, clutching his knees in silence. Jack gave a polite smile.

'Yes, I'm pretty good,' he answered, looking at Tom with total satisfaction. The look to say, 'your girlfriend is more interested in talking to me.' I gave Tom a guilty glance, he was unaware of me, staring directly at Jack, like a bull watching the Matador who is teasing him with a red cape.

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room when my mother jumped to her feet and announced that the scones would be ready. She left the room and motioned for me to follow, 'Excuse me,' I muttered as I followed her out of the room.

'So, Tom, how long have you known my daughter?' my father's voice trailed after me. I felt my face grow crimson red and thanked my mother for taking me out of that awkward conversation.

The kitchen was small, with only enough room for a small round breakfast table on one side and a U-shape kitchen area on the other. The cabinets were white with wooden worktops and all of mum's china was laid out on the sides. The small cooker was lit up and beeping, my mother opened the door and pulled out a tray of freshly baked scones and placed them on the oven hob to cool. She turned to me with her oven gloves still on and grinned.

'What do you think then? Isn't he just gorgeous!' she said quickly, swooning.

'Oh, well, he's very sweet,' I answered slowly, thinking about Tom. 'I don't know if he's a bit tall for me,' I continued. My mother shook her head, her pencil eyebrows furrowed. 'No, darling, not Him – our lovely accountant, Jack! What do you think of him?'

'Oh!' was all I could say, blushing slightly.

'You're not dating that Reverend, are you?' she asked, repulsed at the thought. I stood up straight and frowned at her,

'Well, we went on a date last night, but I don't see what's the problem with-' I started to say, but my mother gasped in her dramatic way, her green eyes bulging.

'No, you did not! What have I told you, Dee? Never date someone you work with! And never date a Reverend! Do you go to church? Do you want the responsibility that comes with being a Reverend's wife? Honestly, Dee, do you have any idea what you are doing?' She ranted at me. The hairs stood up on my arms at her words. How dare she? Who was she to lecture me over who I date? The fact that she had a few points that I had not considered, didn't matter in the long run. This was about principle, and the very fact that she didn't approve of Tom, made him suddenly a lot more appealing to me.

'I like him, Mum,' I began defiantly. 'He and I can talk about anything together, we laugh together and he's so romantic! You should listen to his sermons, his charisma, and charm-'

'I laugh and talk with my dog, but it doesn't mean it would be right for me to kiss him, or to marry the thing,' shot back my mother. I stared coldly at her, affronted by her scolding attitude. She was rarely like this to me, last time I witnessed this sort of third degree was when she found out I was voting for the Green Party in the General Election.

'Look, Mum, we've been on one date, there's no need to worry about whether I'm going to marry Tom,' I said reasonably, watching my mother furiously set the scones on the two-china cake stands sitting on the side. A tiny shriek of laughter escaped her painted lips, and she stopped to look at me with disbelief.

'A woman knows within the first 10 minutes of being with a man, whether she wants to spend the rest of her life with him or not,' she stated seriously.

'Oh please, just because you were besotted with Dad from the moment you met, doesn't mean the rest of the human race follows that rule,' I scoffed, walking to the fridge and pulling out the tub of clotted cream.

'Don't give me that, Audrey,' I was in serious trouble now that my birth name was being mentioned. I took out the jam from the fridge and emptied it into a china dish next to the cake stands. My mother flicked the kettle on and looked at me seriously, her hands on her little hips.

'You have no idea about love; you also have no idea what you want, I'm telling you this because I'm your mother. What are you doing with a scarecrow like him, when you could be with your true soul mate!'

'Oh, and you think Jack is my soul mate, do you?' I shot back, louder. 'That's ridiculous; we have only just met! How can you believe in such ludicrous nonsense?' My mother pursed her lips.

'It's very sad that you don't believe in soul mates, Dee. One day though, you might,' the kettle whistled and my mother set about making tea. The atmosphere in the room cooled and I knew that the argument was over. Just like that, my mother had said her piece and was satisfied with having the last word. Now she would act like nothing had happened and go back to what she did best, keeping up appearances.

I walked into the front room to find Jack and my father deep in conversation about cars, and Tom sat across the room playing on his phone. My heart groaned with disappointment. How could I like Jack now? When my parents seem to love him so much already? And Tom? Why could he not just act like the fun, likeable, polite Tom that I adored. How did he change into this sullen, fiercely protective, and ever so boring person? I needed to put the guy out of his misery and end whatever it was we started. This wasn't working. As for Jack, he was just a crush, nothing more.

I announced that the scones were ready in the kitchen and invited the men to walk through. Tom bounced to his feet by my side and I led him to the kitchen where my mother was setting serviettes out on the breakfast table around the two cake stands. I sat down next to Tom, who was joined by my father and mother, and Jack sat down in the empty seat on my other side. My mother gave me a pointed look of approval, and I felt the heat rise to my face in embarrassment. Tom sparked up a conversation with my mother as I reached for a scone at the same time as Jack and his forearm brushed against mine for a moment. I giggled helplessly as Jack apologised quickly. The touch sent tingles down my arm and left me dizzy. I glanced up at my mum and noticed her eyes glint knowingly as she listened to Tom. I looked over to Jack who gave me a quick smile in return. The dimple in his cheek sent me irresistible urges to kiss it. I mentally shook myself and looked back at my mother, who was still staring at me. I bit my lip and stared apologetically at her, with a guilty smile I gave a slight nod. She grinned. I couldn't deny it, she was right. I was completely smitten with the man sitting next to me, one of them, anyway.

## 3

# Chapter Three

The Break Up

* * *

I parked in the driveway outside my coach house and looked over at Tom who was leaning against the window asleep. His face was troubled, and his lips looked dry. I brushed strands of hair away from his eyes; it was coarse between my fingers.

My mother's words haunted me as I watched him sleep. What was I doing, dating a reverend? What was he doing, dating me? I had never been to church in my life. I liked the idea of God, but religion was not a part of my day to day routine. It was something I appreciated was in the world, and that people followed their own religion. But I followed fiction and took little notice in what the world had to offer me to believe in. I was fairly certain that things could not move into that direction for Tom and me — he was a friend. A very kind, sensitive, friendly friend, that is. But he was not a lover and he was not a future husband. I pushed on his arm and called his name.

'Wake up, we're back,' I said softly. Tom mumbled slightly and rubbed his eyes.

'I don't remember falling asleep,' he murmured. I rolled my eyes with a smile.

'Funny that, I never remember falling asleep either,' I said lightly. Tom looked at me with a wry smile.

'You're funny,' he stated. We climbed out of my tiny Corsa and walked around the car to each other. Tom stroked my arm; his touch had a numbing effect on me. I took his hand and stepped away a little.

'Do you want to come in? I want to talk to you about something,' I tried to avoid the cliché 'we need to talk' speech, but it was surprisingly difficult to stay away from. Tom shrugged his shoulders and followed me inside the house. I led him up the steps and sat on the small couch in the lounge, waiting for him to join me. Tom rounded the corner and sat down, his knee resting on the couch as he laid back against the armrest.

'I'm exhausted,' he sighed. 'I didn't expect your parents to keep us for so long, what time is it? It's got to be late.' I looked at my phone; it was just after 10pm. After an awkward conversation over tea and scones, my parents had us go out to the beach for the afternoon, followed by a meal at the local pub. Jack slipped me his card as he was about to leave, 'Just incase you ever need an accountant,' he whispered with a wink and cheeky grin. The card burned in my hands as I tucked it into my jeans pocket. My heart pounded in my chest as my thoughts wandered over to Jack. I swallowed and looked at Tom, who was looking at me, reclined against the sofa with his arms over his head.

'I thought it was weird that your parents had their accountant join us all day,' he said suddenly. It was obviously something he must have wanted to say all day.

'Listen Tom,' I began carefully. The tone of my voice made him sit up seriously, and he started to speak at lightening speed.

'I heard your mum talking to you in the kitchen — well we all did really. You both were quite loud-' I froze in horror. Of course, my mother and I could get carried away when we argue, but I had never once guessed that anyone had overheard our conversation. Jack heard us, how embarrassing. Once again, my thoughts were immediately directed to Jack.

'-I need to tell you something, and I hope you understand. This might be difficult to listen to - and to accept, but you need to know — especially if it changes how you feel about - about us,' stammered Tom. I looked at his face searchingly. His eyes were staring imploringly at me as he spoke in the most pleading, genuine tone.

'Ok,' I said hesitantly. Tom cleared his throat and took my hands in his; they were moist with sweat.

'I'm not a Reverend,' he started. His words sank like rocks into the pit of my stomach.

'Excuse me?' I cried out, sitting away from him in shock. Tom wiped the sweat off his upper lip and shifted his weight. 'I've been desperate for work, It's this economy you see, hardly any jobs and so many applicants,' he explained. I listened to him, biting the insides of my cheek as he spoke. 'The position came up for a supply teacher at Clifton High, but the requirement was to be a Reverend,' he coughed and looked at me with guilt in his grey eyes.

'Obviously not many people could apply for that role, and I was confident that I could do well, if given the chance. I had no idea it would become more long-term and I didn't expect to meet you. But if I told you the truth too early, I was worried you would tell the school - and then I would lose my job - and my credentials,' he continued. I swallowed the lump in my throat and stared at him unbelieving. Tom surveyed my expression and cradled my face in his warm hands.

'We can be together; we don't have to worry about anything at all, there's no reason we can't keep what we have. I love you Dee,' Tom said softly, and with that he planted a fierce kiss on my lips. His breath was spicy, and his dry lips were uncomfortable against mine. I leaned back and broke contact with him; my face screwed up in anger. Well, this made things a lot simpler. Not only was Tom not a Reverend, he was a con artist! What else was he lying about? How could he be such a good actor? Was that why I was suddenly entranced by him during our date? Were his words even genuine? Or was it all lies to get what he wants? Or - who he wants? The thought sickened me. I didn't even know who he was.

'I was going to say that I wanted to keep things casual, be friends, you know,' I said through gritted teeth, my eyes brimming with tears. The humiliation of it all was too much to handle.'Now I learn that the very part of you that I was drawn to, is a total farce! You're perfect speeches were found off the internet, were they?' I said acidly. What an insult! I stood up. Tom shook his head quickly, shocked at my behaviour.

'No, no, I really am a good person, I'm still Tom, I'm just not a Reverend,' he said, his eyes welling up as he pleaded with me to understand.

'I can't be with you, we can't be together, you're too intense, and for goodness sake, you've been lying to me the entire time! I just can't even be anywhere near you,' I cried out, tears were running down my cheeks. 'Oh, and I took you to meet my parents! And all this time I was trying to be nice to you and I could have been getting to know him!' I ranted, now pacing the room. Tom stood up too,

'Him? The accountant? I knew you were flirting with him! How could you do that? And right in front of me too!' he said.

I pointed my finger at him angrily. 'Don't turn this around on me, I didn't do anything wrong,' Tom shook his head darkly and tore off the white collar round his neck.

'Forget it, all I wanted to do was to make you happy, it seems that it's impossible,' he muttered as he stormed out of the room and down the stairs. I stood shaking on the spot with anger. My stomach was aching from my tight jeans and my head was throbbing from the pressure in my face. Suddenly, the front door slammed and after a few minutes I heard a car engine start up. Tom was gone. He was out of my life and good riddance to him too.

I unbuttoned my jeans and walked into my room, my mind racing with furious thoughts. How he must have been laughing at me all this time, cast under his spell. What was his game, anyway? Why was he so over the top and possessive? Did he really have any feelings for me? Or was it all part of the game? Perhaps he wanted to use my contacts at the school to secure him a long-term role? The thought made me tremble with hurt and shock. I went into the bathroom and splashed cold water over my face, rubbing my lips aggressively. Every part of me he touched was now contaminated by his lies. I felt dirty. What if we had just carried on dating and I let myself fall for him? What if we slept together, and then I found out about his lies? I sat on the cold bathroom floor, hugging my knees and cried violent sobs. My mother was right, again. I didn't know what I was doing. I had no idea. One thing I did know though, I escaped a lot more hurt this time round. Things could have become a lot more difficult had we been more romantically involved. I brushed the tears away from my cheeks with the palms of my hands and made a promise to learn from this experience. I would not allow myself to sleep with a man until I felt truly comfortable with him. That I knew him inexplicably and he was honest and open with me, leaving no leaf unturned. I'd wait until we were married if I had to. I would not be made the fool again.

As for Tom, I took out my phone and found his name in the list of contacts. A shaking finger hovered over the 'delete contact' button as I bit my lip. The memories of our mornings in the coffee shop flashed across my mind's eye, his tender smile and kind-nature, the low laugh he made at my banter and the way he seemed to make everyone around him feel good and motivated to be better. The girls adored him at school, his sermons at assembly were looked forward to. He may not be a real Reverend, but he was doing everything a reverend would do — except, of course, lying about his true identity to everyone. I couldn't imagine a Reverend doing that. Then there's the fact that he became so deep and personal, overly affectionate and possessive so quickly that troubled me. Perhaps I was starting to see the real Tom through the cracks of the mask he was wearing. Perhaps everything I liked about Tom was a mere idea, and that was why I would feel repelled by him whenever we kissed.

But what if his story was true? What if he really was just a nice guy who was desperate for work? People do crazy things when they are desperate. It seemed plausible that someone would lie on their resume about a past job or experience. But to impersonate a Reverend? It was a mockery! The bottom line was, I didn't know who he was. I couldn't know, not when he's been pretending all along that he was someone he wasn't. His name might not have even been Tom for all I knew. Tom who? With that thought, I pressed 'delete' and stood up in the bathroom, looking at the tear-stained woman staring back at me with a resolute expression on her face. I needed to delete the man from my life. So, I did.

Well, I tried to at least.

## 4

# Chapter Four

A New Woman

When a single woman experiences a shock, or an emotional upset. It is common to feel the need to revamp one's image. Go to the salon and invest in a daring hair cut, adopt a puppy or buy a new outfit. Unfortunately, money was not in big supply, so all I could afford was a tub of Ben and Jerry's ice cream and a movie on Netflix. The following evening had me sat on the floor in the lounge, blanket and ice cream to hand, watching _The Lakehouse_ for the third time that day. The movie was about two people separated by space and time who were destined to be together. They wrote letters to each other using the same post box which they owned at some point in their life. He was two years behind her, which made an intriguing storyline. But there were moments in the movie where they meet for a brief time, at some point in her past. The timing was never right, not until it was seemingly too late — and then they find themselves in each other's arms kissing with the passion that had been building over the years that they were apart. It made me think about my 'man', my better half, my – I hesitated to think it — soul mate. He was out there in the world, he may have no idea yet, but he was going to fall hopelessly in love with me and after some time, he will beg me to marry him and we will have the most spectacular wedding in front of all our family and friends then have a house full of children and live happily ever after. Too much? Well, that is how you feel after you watch a movie like _The Lakehouse_.

I needed to get a grip on myself. I was a young, beautiful female, who had a job she loved and was full of potential. The future was completely open to me. It could be whatever I wanted it to be. No con man was going to rid me of my happiness or dreams. In fact, I should just focus on doing something for myself for a while. No men involved. Girl Power! I nodded with a smile of satisfaction. No men, indeed.

The house was in dire need of a good clean and my wardrobe was now empty of all clothes. I picked up my blanket off the floor and folded it, placing it on the sofa neatly, ready to be put away. Then I grabbed the bin from the kitchenette and picked up the tissues that were scattered around the beige carpet and stuffed them inside. The jeans I wore the day before were laying on the floor by the hall, as I picked them up a small card fell down. I set down the bin and picked up the card, bringing it up to my face to read it.

_Jack Roberts, J &R Accountancy Ltd_

It had a mobile number and an email address. I hesitated on the spot, holding the card in my hand and looking from the bin to the card, back to the bin again.

'No men, remember?' I found myself saying aloud. I threw the card into the bin and stared at it, laying on top of the tissues. Was there really any harm in keeping his card for a rainy day? Who knows, maybe I would fancy starting up a business and would need an accountant? The memory played back in my mind of his cheeky grin, the dimple in his left cheek and the warmth of his arm brushing against mine. Something stirred inside my stomach and my mouth suddenly went dry. I licked my lips nervously as I reached down and picked the card up in my hand, holding it in a death grip.

'Nothing wrong with keeping hold of this,' I reasoned to the empty room. The sofa and TV were staring at me, judging. 'I won't call him, I won't do anything. I'll just...I'll keep his card,' I continued, feeling a little devilish.

Monday morning came quicker than I had imagined, yet at the same time, I was grateful to go back to my normal routine. I ironed my white shirt and pulled it on absent-mindedly, then fastened the buttons on my grey pencil skirt. I heard the humming of my phone as it sat vibrating on my bed. I hurried to the bedroom, tucking in the shirt into my skirt as I went and picked up the phone. It was a number that I didn't recognise. 'Hello?' I said brightly, trying not to sound half-asleep.

'Dee, are you going to tell the school?' Came an urgent voice on the other end of the phone. I frowned, looking back at the number across the screen and mentally kicked myself. Of course, I deleted his number.

'Tom, I'm not interested in speaking to you,' I said sternly, sliding my feet into a pair of white sandals. Tom sounded breathless as he spoke to me,

'I can't lose this job. I just can't. Please don't tell anyone, Dee. I'm begging you,' I shook my head, lips pursed and fuming at his words. Two days ago, we were on a date and he was declaring his love to me, telling me how much he enjoyed being a Reverend, how his grandfather was in the church and despite all that, he was now begging for my silence when he should be grovelling at my feet for forgiveness.

'Stop calling me,' I said through gritted teeth and ended the call. The time was 7:25am and I groaned, knowing that now I was going to end up in traffic at the Clifton Suspension Bridge. I ran out of the house with my bag, locked the front door behind me and got into the car. Taking a moment to look around, I noticed the sun was gorgeously bright and the morning dew sparkled in it's rays. I took a deep breath of fresh air, taking in the scent of cut grass and calmed down a little. 'He is not worth the stress,' I muttered to myself as rolled the window down on my side.

'Too right,' said a humoured voice to my right. I blinked up into the sun to see a short, plump woman, carrying a baby on her hip who was laughing in my direction. 'I've had enough of men, and the stress they bring into my life,' she continued. She sat her squirming child into the carseat of her minivan and fastened the buckle.

I smiled as I reversed out of my driveway and waved to her as I passed by. 'That's what I need,' I thought to myself as I joined the dual carriageway headed towards Bristol, feeling enlightened. 'I need a friend.'

As I predicted, an enormous line of cars greeted me as I rolled up to the country road leading to the suspension bridge that leads into Clifton. I opened my purse and picked out the coins I needed for the toll and waited listening to the music on the radio. It gave me time to think about what I was going to do. I had a predicament on my hands involving Tom, or not Tom. He had become a mystery man to me, though not so tempting for me to learn more about him.

Mrs Callingham needed to know that Tom was not a Reverend. How could I argue against that? Yes, he was well-liked within the school, and the girls will be devastated when he is inevitably fired from his job. But if it did come out, and Mrs Callingham knew that I had known this information and not passed on my findings to her, then my job would be on the line. Granted, I was only a supply teacher, but I had been working within that school for two years, and I was waiting for a full-time teaching position to come up. Whatever Tom's reasons were, it was wrong to impersonate someone else. Perhaps my decision was directed less by moral high ground and more on my emotional sense of betrayal, but the answer was still the same; expose the lying rat.

The traffic crawled along the bridge and suddenly disappeared once on the other side. I wondered why that would happen, and where all the traffic disappeared to? But there was not much time to think about such mysteries; I was going to miss morning assembly if I didn't park up soon. I found a space along the street next to the school and hurried down the path, across the road, and through the iron gates. The school bell was ringing in the distance as a few stragglers were walking towards the main school building. Reverend Pembleton often gave the Monday morning sermon; I thought I would arrange to see Mrs Callingham after assembly and see what marvellous lies Tom would deliver this morning. It would be interesting to see how he copes under the pressure of knowing his secret was now exceptionally close to being out in the open.

I walked along the narrow hall and caught up with a small group of third year girls who were whispering with excitement to each other as they filed through the door into the assembly hall.

'I wonder what Reverend Pembleton will talk about today?' gushed one of the girls, with frizzy red hair.

'Oh, he'll probably be quoting Gladiator or something,' quipped back a short girl with a black braid at the back of her head. I bit my lip as I followed them in and to my usual seat at the back of the hall next to the Biology teacher, Mr Chatworth. He smiled and nodded to me before turning back to look at the stand as Mrs Callingham stood up to the microphone. The chattering of the girls died down and I looked at the stand, searching for Tom's familiar tall skinny frame. The head girl and Deputy's head were sat on stools to the right as per usual and on the left was Mrs Callingham's seat and a gentleman sat on the left. He was overweight and completely bald on the top of his head but sported a rather impressive black moustache.

'Good morning girls,' Mrs Callingham greeted in her high voice. My eyes darted around the hall, looking for any sign of Tom. The other teachers were staring blankly forwards, but Tom wasn't one of them. Where was he?

'I hope you all had a pleasant and restful weekend,' Mrs Callingham continued. I looked up at her; she was wearing a blue cashmere scarf wrapped around her shoulders over a pale linen summer dress. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and she had a strange look on her face. Her usual smile was absent, in place with a slight grimace. 'I have some very sad news to share with you all today,' she announced dramatically. The room grew still, in anticipation for whatever news was to come.

'I received a telephone call this morning, from a member of Reverend Pembleton's family. I'm very sad to say that he has passed away this morning.' I swallowed hard as the room exploded in gasps and horrified whispers. Mrs Callingham nodded sadly to the reaction and raised her hands to calm the girls down.

'Although our dear Reverend Pembleton was not with us for very long, I know he was thought of fondly by all of us here at Clifton High. I've arranged for Mr Hunt, our music teacher to perform for us as we think of and remember him and his life. Our thoughts and prayers go out to his family at this tragic time.'

Mr Hunt stood up and strode over to the grand piano at the front. He started to play a slow, sad serenade, involving a number of different notes, his stubby fingers gliding over the keys with ease. Many of the girls bowed their heads; some were shaking as they cried. I glanced nervously over to Mr Chatworth who raised his eyebrows in shock at me.

'You never know what tomorrow brings,' he whispered to me. I nodded slowly, my head felt heavy and stiff. I could hardly bear to breathe. Tom was dead? How? Where? He was just speaking to me on the phone that morning, what did he do? This was not real; it couldn't be. How could he be dead? I needed more information, but Mrs Callingham divulged nothing more about the demise of Reverend Pembleton. I decided to meet with her after assembly, but it would have to wait. I was covering for the sports class first thing in the morning.

The morning passed by in a blur of confusion and complete distraction on my part. The girls were unfocused in their classes and spent the time crying or asking endless questions about Reverend Pembleton – Tom. Questions that I couldn't answer. It was frustrating that I had no idea what happened, and I couldn't help but feel guilty, like I had a part in this. Perhaps if I had listened to him on the phone, what if I was just a little nicer to him? Did he commit suicide? I was infuriated with his lies, but did I want him to die? Of course not! I felt sick at the thought, and regret for my actions. In the grand scheme of things, what Tom did was not so bad. He did admit his lies to me in the end, that must have counted for something, right? He had a good reason for his actions, did I overreact?

The end of the day came before I found an opportunity to speak with Mrs Callingham. She was on the phone in her office or out of the school all day which frustrated me. I needed to know what happened. My mind was full of unanswered questions and worries that it made my head spin. It just felt like the world had turned upside down, I was living an alternate reality. I got into my car and gripped the steering wheel tightly with both hands. The black faux leather burned against my skin after being sat in the sunlight all afternoon.

A few minutes passed and then the lump in my throat -the one I had been trying to ignore since morning assembly- swelled and tears leaked slowly out of my eyes. Biting my lip, I let out a horrified, muffled scream. What was happening? Then my phone started to vibrate in the handbag on the passenger seat. I grabbed the phone and answered it quickly,

'Hello,' I said breathlessly.

'Do you forgive me now?' a male voice questioned. My heart stopped. My breath got caught in my chest and seemed to stop my voice box working.

'I need to talk to you, now. Come to the coffee shop,' then the phone hung up. A group of kids walked past the car with their parents, holding all of their school bags from the day. I automatically put the key in the ignition, started the car and drove to the bottom of the hill and parked up near Park Street.

I was unaware of my surroundings; everything was blurred in my teary-eyed vision as I walked up the steep road to the coffee shop. When I got to the wooden door frame, I hesitated for a moment. Wiping my eyes quickly with my hands and gathering my thoughts. However, upsetting it will be, I needed to do this. I could not just walk away, though if I wanted to, now was the time to do it.

He was sat in the corner of the shop, our usual spot, grinning at me with a look of guilt across his pointy face. I walked towards him, ignoring the brunette at the counter, and the group of university students chattering to each other at the table in the centre of the room. He never stopped looking at me as I approached him, and I only averted my eyes as I sat down in the comfy chair opposite him.

'You're not dead then,' I said stiffly. I punished myself for even believing this ridiculous lie. Of course, he wasn't dead. This was just another manipulation. But what did he have to gain? It was not like he could just turn up at the school now that he was declared dead by the head teacher. What was his game? Tom's smiled disappeared and he looked serious now, leaning forward and staring at my face imploringly.

'Dee, I never meant to upset you, it looks like you've been crying,' he said softly, he made to rub my cheek with his hand, but I moved away from him quickly.

'You are sick, do you know that? The whole school has been in a state of mourning today, and all because of you and your sick lies,' I spat at him scathingly. How could he act so selfishly? Tom looked hurt and offended. He sat upright and frowned.

'I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry,' he mumbled awkwardly as he scratched the back of his neck and looked at the floor. The first sign that he had a conscience.

'First you lie about who you are, you continue to lie to me, then you tell me that you need this job and not to tell Mrs Callingham the truth and then you fake your own death, so which part are you sorry for?' I asked hotly. Tom shrugged his shoulders.

'I do this; it's what I do all the time... I don't know why I do it, but I can't help myself... I feel like, you know, like I am one person and then I change and so that person doesn't exist anymore, so really Reverend Pembleton did die. Because I'm just Tom,' he mumbled quietly. I stared at him unbelieving and shaking my head slowly.

'Tell me what you want and do all you want to try to justify your actions, but what you've done is sick. There's no excuse for it. I mean, really Tom, how hard is it to tell the truth?' I asked, exasperated. Tom looked sullen now.

'Very hard,' he murmured to himself before taking a sip of hot chocolate. He put the mug down and looked up at me, his grey eyes were dull, reflecting the dark rings under his eyes. 'I don't know why I do it; I just feel like I can't be normal, I get an idea of who I'd like to be and I just... I just become that person, but when I change, I have to do something to let go,' he explained with a look of honesty.

'Well, then throw away the clergy-man collar, don't upset a school full of girls by faking his death,' I shot back at him. Tom looked forlorn and lost, he buried his face in his hands, and his shoulders shook violently as he cried. I sat there watching him, contemplating what to do next. I could just get up and leave; he wouldn't stop me. Or I could console him; he was clearly confused and troubled with himself. It was the most curious thing I'd ever seen. He whimpered to himself, compelling me to stay seated and be with him, at least a little longer. A small part of me was grateful that he hadn't really died and worried that if I didn't stay, he would do something stupid for real.

'Tom, is your name really Tom?' I asked, a little more gently this time. Tom looked up, his face was blotchy, and his eyes were red. He nodded sadly. I sighed as I looked at his sorry state. My heart softened towards him, something was not quite right, and he needed some help.

'Let me take you home, Tom. Where do you live?' I asked kindly. Tom bit his lip and averted his eyes.

'I'm staying in Fishponds,' he mumbled, embarrassed. I choked a gasp and coughed before recovering and saying,

'Oh, okay, well let me take you home, come on, I'll drive you there,' Tom shook his head.

'I don't want to; I don't like it there. I want to talk to you,' he said earnestly. I started chewing the inside of my cheek nervously.

'Well,' I started, undecided about what to do next. 'I suppose it's not too busy in here, come on-' I moved over to sit next to Tom and anxiously placed a hand on his shoulder. He moved in to be close to me. 'We'll figure this out,' I reassured him, and myself at the same time.

The bell rang as the door opened in front of me. The sound made me look up and I stared at the person who walked in through the door. It was Jack, dressed in smart trousers and a short-sleeved shirt, carrying his Oakley laptop bag at his side. He looked around the coffee shop, and his eyes met mine. He grinned, I gawped at him in return. What was he doing here? His whole body was framed in the sunlight from outside, and he stood there, strong and proud, my knight in shining armour. My instincts took over and I dashed over to him and just threw myself into his arms.

'Oh, am I glad to see you!' I cried, my arms still wrapped around his neck. He held me tentatively at the waist and waited for me to come to my senses. With horror, I jumped back and felt the heat rise in my face as I apologised to him.

'I'm so sorry about that, I don't know what came over me,' I stuttered, blushing crimson. Jack smiled lightly, his eyes shining as he laughed.

'Please don't apologise,' he said quickly, 'that's the best welcome I've ever had,' he exclaimed with a short laugh. His voice was healing on my troubled soul, I soaked in every syllable.

'Do you want to sit with us and have a drink?' I asked quickly, Jack looked around me towards Tom who was frowning into the cup cradled in his hands. He looked back at me and raised his eyebrows.

'Who died?' he asked humorously.

'He did, actually,' I replied, half-laughing. Jack chuckled and started walking to the counter.

'Well, I'm sure you're going to tell me all about it, let me get a drink, do they do milk shakes here? I need something cold,' he said as he looked up at the chalkboard above the counter. 'Ah, I'll have one of your toffee milkshakes,' he said to the brunette at the till. She was eyeing Tom slightly unnerved as she nodded towards Jack and took his money. Jack turned to me, his blue eyes searching my face.

'You look troubled,' he stated, in a low, serious tone. His thick eyebrows were knitted together as he reflected the look on my face. Everything about his face fascinated me.

'I am troubled,' I agreed, looking back at Tom. He was watching me with a sullen look. Jack took the toffee milkshake off the counter and walked towards Tom at the table.

'Alright mate?' he asked, Tom gave him a dark look.

'I'm not your mate,' he answered coldly. Jack looked back at me with a look of amusement as he sat down at the table. I returned to my seat next to Tom and sighed.

'Do you want to tell Jack what's been going on, or shall I tell him?' I asked Tom, he shrugged and rounded his shoulders. I looked back at Jack who was sucking on the straw for his milkshake. He swallowed and set the glass down on the table and looked at me expectantly.

'Tom is not a Reverend,' I began in a patronising voice, looking sideways to Tom as I spoke. Jack made a low 'Hmm' sound and took his milkshake off the table again.

'Not surprising, but go on,' he said before sucking on his straw again. I stared at him for a millisecond and snapped back into conversation,

'Well, he impersonated a Reverend so he could get a job at the school I work in. Then he admitted the truth to me and then told the school that some tragedy took place this morning and he had died,' I explained, exasperated. Jack laughed.

'You faked your own death? Well that's impressive,' he stated. Tom perked up at his positivity.

'It wasn't very hard,' he said, 'I just called the school, pretending to be my brother and explained to the headmistress that I wouldn't be able to come back to work, because of the accident, people don't ask for proof when you're talking about death,' I shook my head incredulously at him, and Jack remained quiet, eyeing Tom carefully.

'I'm sorry Dee,' Tom said to me as he took my hand. I pulled my hand away and frowned.

'I think you may need some help,' I stated slowly. Our intense eye contact was broken by the low rumbling of laughter coming from Jack.

'Well, what are you going to do now?' he asked Tom, it sounded like a genuine question. Tom gave a small smile.

'I've already landed a job in a bank,' he announced proudly, I rolled my eyes.

'Going to start robbing banks now, are we?' I asked sarcastically. Tom looked affronted.

'I'm going to be the man you deserve, Dee,' he said full of earnest. I swallowed and glanced nervously at Jack who was leaning down to reach his bag and pulled out his black laptop. Tom took no notice of Jack and grabbed my hands in his.'I'm going to be an honest, hard-working person, and you will feel for me, the explosive love that I have for you, and we will marry and-' Tom's heartfelt speech was interrupted by a snort coming from Jack. I looked at him; he was looking intently at his laptop screen and started to type quickly on the keypad. I turned back to see Tom getting up from his chair.

'Well, I don't need to justify anything to anyone, I know who I am now, I'm going to make this all right and Dee-' he looked at me pointedly, '-I will not give up on you,' he said and kissed me on the forehead. I stiffened against his touch and watched him walk out of the coffee shop and disappear from sight.

Jack was quiet, typing on his laptop for a few minutes as I sat there in stunned silence. If I thought I knew what was going on an hour ago, I was even more lost now. Tom did not seem to be troubled in the slightest by the fact that a whole school was currently mourning the death of a fictional reverend. What seemed even more strange, was that Jack seemed unfazed as well. I turned to him and cleared my throat. He looked up at me expectantly.

'Are you not at all disturbed by any of this?' I asked bluntly. Jack rubbed his chin and looked up at the ceiling in thought.

'Not particularly,' he said. 'But I am an accountant, this is not the first time I've been told that someone faked their death,' he said mildly. My jaw dropped as I looked at him disbelievingly.

'What? This happens all the time then?' I asked, shocked. Jack shook his head,

'No,' he said in a low voice, 'I heard a few stories from other accountants, you'll be surprised what crazy things people do for money. Usually when they owe someone or want to run away from an angry mob of customers, car mechanics and builders, mostly. A lot of them go missing, or reported dead,' I stared at Jack in amazement as he spoke in such a calm manner. As he spoke to me, my stress levels were decreasing, and I felt a little more grounded. Jack was normal. Tom was not. The world was right again.

After a few more minutes of silence, Jack closed his laptop and placed it back in his bag. He stood up and held out his hand for me to take.

'You need some fun, and I've got somewhere to be, would you like to join me?' he asked as I placed my hand in his. He gripped my fingers and pulled me gently to my feet. Then he placed his arm around my waist, guiding me out of the coffee shop.

'Where are we going?' I asked. Jack tapped his nose and bid us to keep walking. I enjoyed feeling the weight of his hand resting on my back and my shoulders relaxed under his touch. We ended up at a community centre, one of the rooms had music pumping through the walls and was crowded full of people.

'It's my brother's 30th today, he rented out a hall to celebrate,' Jack explained to me. He gave me a wink and a cheeky grin as he let go of my waist and strode in on his own, leaving me behind.

'Wait, where are you going?' I called out to him, slightly panicked.

'We're strangers, wait five minutes and come in and join the party. Who knows, you might meet someone you like,' he said over the music. Then he turned and disappeared into the room.

I stood in the empty hall, shaking from head to toe. What kind of game was this? The thought of going into a party full of people I didn't know, terrified every part of my being. I looked around and found a sign for the toilets to my right. I walked through a couple of doors and found them. If I was going to a party, I should probably look the part. I walked into the ladies toilets and settled in front of a mirror. My hair was slightly frizzy as it hung wildly past my shoulders. I took out a pocket hairbrush from my bag and untangled my hair, smoothing out my side fringe. My eyes were slightly bloodshot from crying, and my mascara had smudged quite spectacularly. I cringed at the knowledge that Jack saw me looking like this. I dusted powdered foundation on my face and brushed a touch of blusher on my cheeks. After a few minutes, my eyelashes were thick and long, and my face looked flawless. Satisfied with my efforts, I straightened my pencil skirt over my hips and braided my blonde hair loosely and let it hang on my right shoulder. After a few deep breaths, I was ready for whatever the night had in store. I walked back down the hall and found my way into the party room. A disco ball hung on the ceiling, and the room was full of young adults dancing to cheesy music themed to a 90s throwback. A small table was laden full of finger food, and a stack of bottles sat on the side. I searched the crowds of faces for Jack's but couldn't see him anywhere.

'Hey, welcome to the party!' called out a short, stocky male with very little hair on his head. He had glasses and a friendly demeanour about him.

'What's your name, love?' he asked in a Bristolian accent. I smiled shyly and told him my name.

'Dee? Like Audrey?' he asked, mildly interested. I nodded, 'well I'm Josh, the birthday boy, let me introduce you to some people...' he said as he put his heavy arm around my shoulder and steered me around the room.

'Hey, this is my new friend, Dee, make her feel welcome,' he called out to a few people as we walked through the dancing crowd. Some people waved or nodded in my direction; others ignored me completely. Then Josh brought me to a small group of short men, two of them round and balding like Josh, and the third was thinner and muscular, with considerably more dark hair.

'These are my brothers,' Josh announced, holding me on his arm like a new trophy. The men smiled and waved at me, but one of them stepped forward and gave Josh a wink as he approached me. I grinned shyly at him.

'Hi, it's nice to meet you, I'm Jack,' he said formally, shaking my hand. I giggled slightly in return, glancing at the brothers who were watching from behind.

'I'm Audrey,' I said in a small voice, Jack leaned his ear close to me and looked like he was trying to hear me.

'Audrey?' he repeated. I nodded, he stood back and smiled genuinely at me. 'That's a beautiful name'. My heart swelled. He offered his hand, and we danced to the upbeat music in the hall. Within seconds we were laughing as we circled each other and held hands, pretending to dance like professional ballroom dancers. It was the most fun I had ever had in my life. I was free and laughing loudly as Jack twirled me and even started dancing what he liked to call "the chicken dance" where he bobbed up and down and stuck his elbows out. He was confident and cheeky. He displayed so much positivity and happiness; I couldn't help but feel happy too. I couldn't take my eyes off him as he danced and laughed. Every reaction he made to my moves made my heart leap.

We danced for a long time, but hunger soon took over, and the food had been consumed by the time we got to the refreshment table. Jack and I said goodbye to his brothers, and we walked out together into the dark night.

'Wow, that was amazing,' I declared, as I stretched my arms out and looked up at the sky, free as a bird. The stars were out in the clear sky and twinkled down on us. Jack looked at me with approval, pleased with himself.

'I'm glad you're feeling better,' he said. I put my hands down and looked at him, a beaming smile on my face.

'I had so much fun, thank you, thank you so much, Jack!' I said breathlessly. We walked aimlessly down the road, arm in arm. My mind was telling me to cool off; I was showing far too much interest too soon. But my heart betrayed my mind, directing my body, and my body listened to my heart. Jack was so soft and warm; his body felt completely natural to me. He made wonderful company; I wanted nothing more that to just be with him all the time. It didn't make sense though; it wasn't logical to feel so strongly so soon. Was this how Tom was feeling for me? I wondered how Jack felt towards me and decided that it was important not to come on too strong and scare him off. We could be friends, for now; I thought reasonably, and then looked over to him as we walked and looked at his lips. They were slightly plump, his bottom lip stuck out a little more than his upper lip, and his scent drew me in. I bit my lip and looked away. Steady girl, I thought to myself. Just friends remember.

Jack turned to me suddenly as we both came to a halt at College Green, a large bank of grass just off of Park Street. It was a favourite picnic area of the local students. Jack looked at me deeply, his eyes penetrated my soul, and for a moment that seemed to last an eternity, it felt that he was mine and I was his. He cradled my face in his hands and leaned forward, I closed my eyes and allowed him to come to me, I felt his breath tickling my lips and then his mouth joined mine. It was soft, careful and he moved his lips gently over my trembling lips. My body melted under his touch and I reached my arms up around his torso and dragged my hands through his hair. He clutched my back tightly and stood firmly as I collapsed into his embrace. My soul surrendered to his completely. He stopped and looked adoringly into my eyes. They glowed softly in streetlight, and his smile was radiant. Mine must have been too; I was grinning from ear to ear.

It was the kiss of all kisses. More passionate and meaningful than any kiss portrayed in any of the romantic movies ever made. It was an unspoken conversation, intimate and yet so innocent and tender. It was the pure message of adoration. Tom had tried to make me love him with his words, but none of them had the powerful and intense reaction that Jack's kiss brought out of me. I stared at him with an overwhelming emotion of excitement and wonder. I had no idea that anyone could ever be so fascinating and irresistible at the same time. He was mine. I had hoped it when we were together in my parent's kitchen and our arms touched, but now I knew it. He was my soul mate, and I wasn't going to let him go.

## 5

# Chapter Five

Cranking Up The Volume

* * *

The room was dark but for the faint moonlight resting on my bed covers as I lay there, still smiling from the night's events. I touched my tingling lips and stifled a giggle, pressing my face into the plush pillows on my bed. Jack and I ended the night with a casual dinner eating pizza and parted ways reluctantly as the night grew late. I had to drive back to Portishead, and he offered to have me stay the night in his hotel room.

'No,' I blushed at his offer, 'I don't think it would be a good idea, not until we know each other a lot more,' Jack coughed on his drink,

'Oh, I didn't mean anything like that, it has twin beds in the room,' he explained quickly. I felt myself blushing furiously at his words.

'Oh,' was all I could say in response. He laughed and shook his head. I had decided to go home, alone. It would not have been wise to do anything too soon. Not after my experiences with Tom, and despite my feelings for Jack, it was still very early days, and it didn't feel right to tempt things in that area. Especially as it could potentially jeopardise our new friendship. I also felt that we would not have been able to keep our hands off each other if we were sleeping in the same bedroom.

The next morning came too quickly for my liking. I woke up with a searing pain in front of my eyes which had me blinded. I fell onto my feet and staggered across the carpet towards the hall, leading to the kitchenette area in the lounge. I needed to take something for the pain. A few painkillers later, and I was in the shower, relaxing under the warm water splashing over my body. With a sigh of relief, I felt my eyebrows unknit, and the pain in my head turned into a dull throbbing sensation. _A new day, a new life_ , I thought to myself as Jack's face came into my mind, the new chapter in my life. I surrendered to the smile threatening to take over my face as I remembered the events of the night before. The goofy dancing at the party, Jack's genuine character, and level-headedness. That kiss. Oh wow. That mind-blowing, intense and romantic kiss was the most passionate and incredible kiss I had ever shared with someone.

As I drove to work that morning, the sunlight weakened by the fluffy clouds in the sky; I allowed my mind to wander towards Tom. His moody disposition at the coffee shop was a stark contrast to his usual placid, friendly persona that he put on around me-when I believed he was a reverend that is. I wondered what might have happened, had he not overheard my conversation with my mother in the kitchen that day. What if he had not confessed to his fraudulent way of life and I still believed he was a nice, kind and charismatic person?

I remembered that just moments before the dramatic reveal, I was about to break up with the guy, so the outcome may have just been the same. Though he would not have any need to fake his own death and lead a different life. But what was this obsession he had with being with me? Or perhaps, he was holding onto the fact that I had shown him friendship and compassion? I had never heard him talk about any close friends or family in our discussions. The only time he mentioned going out with a friend was during the very first sermon he gave, and that was probably all lies. When he spoke about his parents, it was always in the past tense, as if they were not around anymore. I could not trust what he said to me, for all I knew his parents could have been perfectly respectable people who disowned their crazy multi-personality son. How could he flip from one character to another so easily? Now, he was the brooding, moody banker, was he? Whatever character took up his fancy, he would become it? Tom was a riddle I had no time to solve. Not when I had a job to do, girls to console as they mourn the fictitious Reverend Pembleton. The main question left in my mind regarding Tom, was this;

Do I tell Mrs Callingham the truth?

That was a difficult question to answer. What would the girls struggle with more? The thought of their beloved Reverend stand-in, the charming, insightful man who made some very impressive and noteworthy points about their conduct and life's ambitions, was in fact, a serial con-artist? Or to continue thinking that due to some unmentioned tragedy, their sweet reverend Pembleton passed away and is now playing golf in heaven?

Either way, Reverend Pembleton was no more. The girls would mourn that. The question was more like this, do you expose the man behind the mask, or keep the girls' innocence on the matter? The decision was not mine to make. Mrs Callingham had to know; it would have been wrong not to inform her of this man. If anything, to make the selection process for the next religious studies teacher to be more rigorous and thorough.

I resolved to tell Mrs Callingham the truth. This was not going to be a comfortable conversation, and I hoped that I could avoid divulging any information regarding the relationship Tom and I possessed. I pulled up outside the school and gathered my bags together, then stepped out of the car in my ankle boots and black trousers. I brushed out the slight creases on my yellow shirt and closed the car door.

'Good morning, miss,' called out a first-year student. She had two yellow braids and rosy cheeks. I smiled as I greeted her in reply. Crowds of girls swarmed in through the iron gates and wandered aimlessly down the drive as they talked about goodness knows what. The feeling in the air was still tense and strained, the girls were a lot quieter and more serious than usual. I hurried to the main building to find Mrs Callingham, hoping to catch her before the morning assembly. As I rounded the corner, I saw Reverend Hale, standing in the foyer leaning onto a cane. 'Reverend Hale, it's wonderful to see you on your feet!' I said politely as I approached him.

'Barely on my feet, I'd say,' he said back to me in a low monotonous tone. His brown eyes were almost black as he scowled at the floor. His tanned skin had a pale sheen to it. He clearly looked too unwell to be back at work. Mrs Callingham was speaking to one of the receptionists and turned back to Reverend Hale; she smiled at me briefly before looking sternly at Reverend Hale once more.

'Now Jim, you've had open heart surgery, you need to go home and rest, I don't want you in my school anytime soon,' she said in a firm voice. Reverend Hale muttered darkly to himself as Mrs Callingham walked him out of the hall. 'I'll see you in a month for a follow-up, in the meantime I suggest you take up a nice hobby, I hear puzzles can be very relaxing,' she called out as Reverend Hale slowly trudged away from the building down the driveway.

A moment passed as Mrs Callingham stood, staring sadly outside and seemed to be deep in her thoughts. Then she turned to me and looked expectantly,

'Are you all right, my dear?' she asked kindly. I swallowed nervously and clutched my bag for security.

'Could we go somewhere to talk, I have something quite important to tell you, and it really can't wait,' I said, trying desperately to sound mature and confident. But the truth was, I was the youngest member of staff at the school, at the tender age of 22 and I felt like I could relate more with the girls than the teachers. Mrs Callingham's face showed her concern as she directed me into a room to the side of the foyer. I walked inside and looked around briefly. The walls were covered in pale blue floral wall paper, and a cabinet sat in the corner with very old trophies sat inside. Along the four walls hung paintings of all the previous headmistresses of the school. An ornate sofa sat in the middle of the room, opposite two armchairs. Mrs Callingham closed the door and motioned for me to sit. I glanced out of the huge window which faced the green across the driveway, a group of girls sat on the grass and seemed to spark up a serious conversation. They were talking about Tom, probably. I winced at the thought and turned around to sit down. Mrs Callingham was perched on the end of an arm chair, her hands resting in her lap as she sat upright, stiff as a board and waiting for me to say something.

I struggled to find the words at first, it didn't cross my mind as to what to actually say, now that I was in this position. I allowed whatever my brain told me to say, come out of my mouth.

'I need to tell you that you've been conned,' I blurted out. Mrs Callingham raised her eyes in response to my words. Probably not the best way to open, but I couldn't take it back, I just had to continue.

'I mean, you haven't been conned, per se, you've had the wool put over your eyes-or however you say it,' I rambled nervously. 'Tom –err, Reverend Pembleton-is not dead,' I said in a uncertain voice. Mrs Callingham sucked in her cheeks and gave me a look as if she had just sucked on a lemon. Her eyes became slits, but she remained quiet, waiting to see if I was done. I thought I would just get it out as quickly as possible, like a band-aid, you have to whip it off quickly.

'He was also posing to be a reverend. He isn't a reverend at all. In fact, I don't know whether Tom is his real name really,' I sat still watching the blood drain from Mrs Callingham's face. She cleared her throat and said,

'Where is he now?' in a high pitched, controlled voice.

'I have no idea, I think he's still in Bristol,' I said honestly, now thinking aloud. 'I saw him yesterday, and he said that he is now working for a bank,' Mrs Callingham snapped out of her cool reverie and jumped to her feet.

'Excuse me,' she said in a sharp voice as she turned on her heels and out of the room. I sat there on the sofa, staring at Mrs Callingham's portrait with shock at what just happened. No questions asked, she just jumped into action without even a 'thank you.' The school bell rang and brought me back to my sense, I joined the stream of girls heading for the main hall for morning assembly and chewed the dry skin on my lips, anxious to find out what Mrs Callingham would do.

The morning assembly took place as usual, the opening song was 'Jerusalem,' and the head girl gave the announcements for the upcoming school fundraisers, and the step in Reverend gave a long, laborious speech which held no meaning for me. Mrs Callingham smiled serenely at the hall of girls and showed no signs of distress. Clearly she decided not to tell the girls the truth about Tom's true identity. A weight lifted off my shoulders, knowing that I did the right thing, to tell the truth. Though I wondered how Tom would react if -or when- they find him and confront him on it.

The day went by in a blur of classes and menial classroom work. Some days I didn't need to cover a lesson, but a teacher would request for a teaching assistant to help with a fractious class or a special lesson. Mr Chatworth needed some backup when a small group of girls broke into hysterics when he announced that they were going to dissect kidneys. The most distressing part of dissecting a kidney is not really the gore factor, it's the overwhelming stench of urine that chokes at the back of the throat. The whole science lab gave off the rotten smell, and it was all I could do not to vomit and pretend to the horrified girls that this was fun.

At the end of the day, I pulled up outside my house as my neighbour -the lady with the minivan - was taking her shopping into the house. She had a gaggle of little girls running around her legs as she walked, and a baby cried in the car.

'Hi, can I help you take these in?' I called over to her, walking toward the woman. She gave me a look that was a mixture of relief and extreme tiredness.

'Oh thanks, I'm rushed off my feet here,' she sighed at the girls giggling and pulling on her cream trousers. I smiled down at the girls, two of them were identical with chestnut brown hair in messy bunches and a third girl had auburn hair and a very frizzy fringe. They stopped running and looked up at me curiously. The twins looked to be about four years old and the third being ever so slightly older. I leaned into the back of the minivan and pulled out a couple of shopping bags, lining them up my arms, as I was determined to get the shopping in the house in as few trips as possible.

'Where do you want these?' I asked the lady as she walked out of her house to the driveway, she had a slightly round face and curvy figure. Her mousy hair was swept up into a loose knot at the back of her head, and she had black glasses on her face. 'In the hall will be fine,' she said casually. I stepped into the house and put down the bags on the wood flooring in the hall. I looked up and noticed the hallway alone, was covered in every inch with trinkets and family photos. It made my humble coach house look like a prison cell.

'I'm Heather by the way,' the lady said as she brought the baby in, resting him on her hip and the girls followed her inside. I told her my name. She smiled warmly at me.

'Do you want a drink?' She asked as the children disappeared upstairs to their bedrooms, their little feet banging as they went. Whoever said, 'pitter patter of little feet,' had clearly not spent any time with children, it sounded more like a herd of elephants running up the stairs. I nodded to Heather and followed her through the narrow hall and found myself standing in a little kitchen. Black pots and pans dangled from a rack on the ceiling over the counter top and a little flat screen TV sat in the corner of the room. I could sense that Heather enjoyed spending time in the kitchen. A row of herb plants were sat on the window sill, next to a basket of freshly picked vegetables, possibly from her garden.

'Tea, Coffee, Orange juice?' Heather asked as she stood by her sink looking pointedly at me.

'I'll have orange juice please,' I replied with a smile, taking in my surroundings. A little welcome mat was sat by the back door cluttered with sandals, and a cat was stretched out along a windowsill next to the back door. Heather moved quickly, taking two glasses out of a cupboard and setting them on the countertop while still holding her baby on her hip. She managed to pour the orange juice and hand me my drink with one had as well.

'Thanks,' I said, impressed at this woman's ability to do everyday chores with a baby on her hip. I took a sip of the drink, which was freshly squeezed orange juice. It was complete with bits and pips. I tried not to grimace as I drank it down, but the taste was slightly bitter for my liking. Heather put her baby down on the floor, he was stocky and had puppy fat rolls all over his body. He waddled around the floor, squatting and searching the shopping bags for something to eat.

Squeals and laughter could be heard from the kitchen ceiling, the girls' rooms must have been directly above. I smiled at the scene; it was further than anything I had ever experienced, being an only child. But my heart sighed a little, looking at this woman, tired beyond reason, always moving and her mind full of more important worries than men! I wanted to be her. I wanted to be living her life so badly that it hurt inside.

We talked for a few minutes before her baby started vomiting all over the kitchen floor, putting a dramatic end to our conversation. I hurried out of the front door and made my way to my house. Climbing the stairs tiredly and rubbing my stomach as it groaned in hunger. My mind was foggy with tiredness, and I felt completely drained.

As I collapsed into bed that night after eating a small portion of pasta bake, I rolled over to my side and clutched the covers drawing them in close to me, tears flowing from my eyes as I lay in the foetal position, wondering why I still felt hollow inside. A terrible ache throbbed inside my stomach, and I was overwhelmed with the desire for something... something I couldn't put my finger on. The room was empty and cold, no longer my cosy safe haven. I was lonely, and it was starting to depress me.

After a few hours of attempting to sleep with no success, I grabbed my phone and looked through the contacts. It was late, who would I call? Who would make this terrible feeling go away? Who could help me fall asleep? I didn't have any friends like that, only the odd acquaintance at the school or from growing up. My parents would be asleep for sure; my finger touched a name in the contacts and the phone started to call the number. I panicked and hung up before anyone answered. I was calling Jack. I put his number in my phone after our date the previous night. My cheeks grew hot, and I felt snakes writhing about in my stomach as I watched his name on my phone, wondering if he noticed my call.

Within a couple of minutes, my phone started to vibrate. I jumped a mile out of bed and answered the phone breathlessly,

'Hello?'

'Hello there, Audrey, how was your day?' a low voice came down the phone to my ear. He was perfectly calm and pleasant in his voice, and the sound of his words ran over my being like warm honey. I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath, suddenly overcome with tiredness.

'Jack, it's so nice to hear your voice. It's been a hard day,' I sighed.

'Do you want to talk about it?' asked Jack, another shot of relaxation trickled into my veins.

'No, it's okay, I'm really tired actually,' I replied honestly.

'I'll let you sleep then, sorry I thought you called me,' he murmured lightly.

'Oh, I did by accident, I was just thinking about you,' I blurted out, then shut my eyes tightly, punishing myself for saying what I did. How stupid and desperate that must have sounded!

'I was thinking about you too,' Jack replied in a soft voice. My heart leapt, and my eyes shot open as I sat bolt upright.

'Really? What were you thinking?'

'Well, I really enjoyed spending time with you yesterday, I miss your company already. I think it could be time for a second date?'

He tried to sound casual, but there was a hint of anticipation in his voice as he mentioned a second date. I was grinning now.

'I would love that, when do you want to see me?' I asked, hopeful that it would be before the weekend.

'I want to see you now,' Jack said. I laughed in response, he followed with a slight laugh in return. 'How about tomorrow night? I need to be in Bristol for the next three days,' he explained.

'Oh great! There's so much we could do, there's the museum, the exploratory centre is fun, and the huge shopping centre has loads of nice restaurants... or I know of a few nice places to walk around town too.' I reeled off excitedly. Jack was quiet for a moment and gave an awkward laugh.

'I guess I know what we're doing for the rest of the week then,' he said, humoured. I gulped, realising that Jack didn't mention spending the next three days with ME in Bristol, just that he needed to work. _Oh no, the shame!_ _How could I rescue this?_ I thought to myself.

'Oh, I'm so sorry, we can just pick an activity for our second date and see how it goes, I wasn't expecting you to come out with me every day!' I lied.

'Oh no, I like that. My brother, Josh, wants me to go to his house to set up his new hi-fi on Thursday night, but that shouldn't take me too long. Otherwise, I'm free. So, tomorrow night, I have a meeting with a client at noon which could take a few hours,'

'I finish at 4 pm in Clifton,' I added.

'Ok,' Jack said brightly, 'I'll come and pick you up, where do you work again?' he asked.

'Clifton High School,' I replied, then gave him directions.

'Ok, any ideas what you would like to do most tomorrow?' he asked.

_Kiss you_. I thought to myself as I hesitated on the phone. Obviously I couldn't say that. Since our kiss at College Green, neither of us mentioned it. The kiss just came out of nowhere, and we did it too soon. Who kisses like that on their first date? The chemistry between us was just electrifying; I couldn't help but just go with it. Even if none of our actions made sense. The only rule I couldn't break was that we couldn't spend the night in each other's rooms. That was a definite line that I dare not cross. Jack seemed happy with that too.

'Are you still there?' Jack's voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

'Oh, yes,' I said, surprised that I had become lost in the ramblings of my mind. 'It would be nice to do something that meant we got an opportunity to talk,' I suggested seriously. Jack agreed.

'I'll surprise you then,' he said cheekily, I imagined that that dimple had appeared on his left cheek as he smiled. The thought made me giddy.

'Wonderful,' I replied, delighted. The room suddenly grew ten times brighter and my heart was full of excitement over the next few days. We said good night and hung up, and surprisingly, I put my phone down and promptly fell asleep.

## 6

# Chapter Six

When It Rains, It Pours

* * *

I woke up the following morning full of adrenaline, hopping out of bed and dashing to the shower with a broad grin on my face. I scrubbed every part of my body and wondered what outfit to wear. I wanted to look irresistible and charming, but also mature and sophisticated. The weather was due to turn a little cooler, so a jacket would be a necessity. I hurried into the bedroom wrapped in a large fluffy towel, my long hair dripping wet down my back, and headed for my wardrobe. I found a brown A-line skirt and a pastel pink blouse which looked good on me. I got dressed and took out a cream jacket which had three-quarter length sleeves. I slipped on my white sandals and scrutinised the look in the mirror. Pleased with myself, I set about getting my hair ready. I straightened my hair and brushed it into a low side ponytail and tied a loose braid. The sun was shining through my windows, lighting up my usually dull coach house and reminded me to pack my sunglasses. I picked them up off the bookcase standing in the hall and smiled as I looked at the Oakley logo on the arm of the glasses, thinking of Jack. All the signs of the universe were screaming at me, _he is a keeper,_ as they say.

I expected Mrs Callingham to say something to me about Tom at some point, but it seemed that on this day, she would avoid me and avert her eyes when walking past me in the corridors. I allowed myself to let go of my concerns over Tom and all the drama surrounding him, but the day moved on at an agonisingly slow speed.

When the end of day bell finally rang, I felt a collective sigh from the school's participants as the girls packed their bags and started to fill the halls. I dashed to the staff room and grabbed my handbag and jacket from my locker and swiftly headed out of the building.

Down at the end of the driveway, at the iron gates, stood a short male, with square shoulders and a laptop bag by his side. I resisted the urge to break into a run and tried to keep it casual as I walked towards him. Jack gave a slight wave to me as he leaned against brick wall and waited for me to join him. He wore grey suit trousers and a pale blue shirt. The top button was undone, but he had tucked his shirt into his trousers. He looked so uniform and yet casual at the same time. How did he manage that? I wondered as I smiled at him. He kissed my cheek and hugged me when I said hello.

'So where are we going?' I asked anxiously, keen to start this mystery date. Jack opened his mouth, and suddenly his eyes looked behind me, and his face looked brooding and serious.

'We have company,' he muttered, and I turned around to see Mrs Callingham standing behind us. She had pursed her lips and clasped her hands behind her back, looking at me with eye slits.

'A word, with you please,' she said to me sternly. A strong sense of foreboding rose in my chest as I slowly followed Mrs Callingham back towards the school.

'I'll wait here,' Jack called out softly as he gave a reassuring nod to me as I went. The long walk to Mrs Callingham's office seemed to take an eternity. She guided me up the grand staircase that swept around to the right and in through a narrow doorway, right into her office. She closed the door and asked me to sit down.

Once seated, I watched as she walked around the mahogany desk littered with papers and sat behind it, facing me and looking at me like a troubled teenage girl.

'Audrey,' she began in a falsely pleasant tone, 'can you explain to me why you would make such serious allegations as you did yesterday morning?' she asked. My jaw dropped to the floor. Did she not believe me? Why would I make something like that up? I was trying to help her, and here she was insinuating that I was trying to mix trouble.

'Mrs. Callingham, I was telling the truth,' I said in the most serious way possible. I stared at her intently, trying not to allow the shock and hurt come across in my face.

'Well, after your little revelation to me yesterday, I went immediately to Reverend Pembleton's brother and requested a personal meeting with him, explaining that we have had reason to suspect fraud and needed to see a copy of his death certificate,' Mrs Callingham explained coldly.

'I met with Mr David Pembleton, who was able to prove that his brother was Thomas Pembleton by presenting these two birth certificates. He also showed me a death certificate, stating that Thomas Pembleton died on Monday morning at 7:53 am. The cause of his demise was by drowning in the bath.' I could not believe a word I was hearing. Yet I couldn't help but feel impressed at the lengths Tom had gone to ensure that his secret was not found out.

'Audrey Williams, you have caused the late Reverend Pembleton's family a great deal of stress and upset. Not only that, but you have caused me and the school to suffer great embarrassment. This is simply unforgivable. Consider this meeting your two weeks' notice, but we will not require you to come in again,' her words hit me like a ton of bricks.

'I'm... fired?' I asked blankly, staring at her completely stunned. Mrs Callingham leaned forward and narrowed her eyes at me with a steely glare.

'Yes, you are, and I don't want to hear another word. The moment you leave these grounds, you are never to come again,' she snapped.

I shakily got to my feet, walking on auto pilot out of the door and down the staircase, clutching the softened pine banister as I went. The bottom steps creaked under my weight, I closed my eyes and held onto the feeling. This old school, with all its nooks and awkward hallways, was so full of history and I had grown to love every inch of it. My heart was broken. Not only did I lose my job, but I lost a part of my life. It was the first school placement I had since graduating from university, and I had imagined myself to follow the footsteps of many of the other teachers in the school who had stayed there for many years, building long-term friendships with the girls they teach and with their fellow teachers. Yes, I was not as integrated socially as I would have liked, but I was certain that when I became a full-time teacher, that the social element would come.

I walked sadly down the driveway, my eyes darting around the grounds, taking in every last detail. From the electronic locks on the doors with the key codes to the row of laurel bushes dancing outside the drama hall. Jack was on the phone, facing away from me, he turned and caught a glimpse of the look on my face and quickly said,'Mate, I need to call you back,' and put the phone in his pocket.

'What happened?' He asked when I got up to him. Then I burst into explosive, horrified tears of shock and grief. Tom had single-handedly ruined my life, or so I felt at the time. How could he be so selfish and cruel? I had done absolutely nothing wrong, yet I have been left feeling used, abused and mistreated in every way. How was I to get over this? It was too much, I collapsed into Jack's arms, and he held me there, slightly awkward as he braced against my weight and tenderly brushed my hair out of his face.

'Come on, not here,' he said in a low voice as he coaxed me to the BMW parked by the school. He opened the passenger door for me and helped me inside. Then he hurried around the bonnet of the car and got in the driver's side. He put his bag on the back seats and looked at me, his blue eyes stared at me with concern.

'You need to tell me what happened in there,' he said seriously. I wiped the tears off my cheeks and took a moment to catch my breath before I spoke.

'I've lost my job,' I whimpered. Jack stayed quiet, looking at me expecting me to continue. 'I told them about Tom, about his lies, and they got a death certificate and a complaint from his family, I guess... I don't know how he's done it, but he's managed to convince them that he really is dead and that I'm a malicious liar,'

'That's outrageous,' Jack remarked, looking down in thought. 'It's not too hard to forge a death certificate,' he said, clearly thinking aloud. He looked up at me, his eyes open wide and honest.

'I've seen him as well, I can go in and back you up,' he offered reasonably. I shook my head, tears falling down my wet cheeks.

'She won't believe anyone, as far as she is concerned, she's seen enough evidence and she won't listen to another word about it,' I explained, my chest felt tight as I spoke, and I felt a pressure headache rising the back of my head. Jack started the car and drove at speed; he looked to be deep in his thoughts as he navigated through the streets.

I buckled my seatbelt quickly and gripped the edge of the seat as he negotiated a couple of corners in heavy traffic, not stopping for anyone. The wild car chase continued for several minutes, and I kept deathly silent, praying that where ever he was taking us, we would arrive at the destination safely.

He parked up outside a hotel, I peered out of the car window and looked up at the multi-storey building. A doorman stood outside, dressed in a top hat and tails. Jack turned off the engine and got out of the car, walked around the bonnet to my side and opened my door.

'Come on, we've got some planning to do,' he murmured, holding out his hand for me to take. I unbuckled the seatbelt around me, held my bag close and looked up at him with uncertainty.

'What are we planning?' I asked, eyes wide. Jack looked surprised at my question as I took his hand and he pulled me to my feet. The car door closed behind me as I stood within a couple of inches from him. He smelt like sandalwood and spices. I looked at his eyes, they were clear, like windows into his soul.

'I'm not going to just sit back and let that low life ruin your career like this, he is not getting away with it, what we are going to do is expose him for who he is –and what he is- but most-importantly, we are going to get your job back,' he announced firmly.

## 7

# Chapter Seven

It's not personal; oh wait, yes, it is

* * *

Jack sat at the office area in the small hotel room and looking intently at his laptop screen, typing furiously on the keypad. I sat on the armchair by the window and looked out at the docks. The SS Great Britain sat in the water, next to a wooden boat. Endless traffic moved along the road below, and the sun was starting to move lower in the sky. A golden hue smothered the trees alongside the pavement, and even in the hustle and bustle outside, it looked like the world was moving on as usual. Completely unaware that mine had turned upside down. A thick knot sat in my stomach, and my chest ached with sadness. My handbag started to vibrate, I dug into it and pulled out my phone to answer it. My throat clammed up when I saw the number and recognised the last three digits.

'Why are you calling me?' I scowled into the mouthpiece. Tom's voice seemed to show genuine concern,

'I want to see how you are? I'm not giving up on you, Dee. I've been thinking about you a lot these past couple of days...' Tom started saying, his words flowing skilfully and with ease. Jack looked up from his computer screen and stared at me with his eyebrows furrowed.

'Is it him?' he mouthed, I nodded in reply. He typed something on his laptop and turned the screen to me as I listened to Tom singing my praises and offering his apologies. The writing on the laptop said;

_Don't get mad. Don't tell him you're with me. Ask him where he is and tell him you want to see him._

I stared at Jack in shock; he nodded to encourage me to do it. I cleared my throat and interrupted Tom's monologue,

'Where are you, Tom? I want to see you,' I asked, trying not to sound like I was talking through gritted teeth.

'I'm not far away, shall I come to your house?' he asked, anxiously. I glanced over at Jack who was watching me expectantly.

'No, I'm still in town,' I said carefully.

'Well, where are you right now? I'll come to you,' Tom said quickly. I looked over to Jack panicked.

'He won't tell me where he is, he wants to come to meet me,' I whispered to Jack as he rubbed the back of his neck with a dark expression on his face.

'The coffee shop,' he whispered back. I nodded,

'Shall we meet at the usual place? I can be there in half an hour,' I asked, sounding far too chirpy for the situation.

'Yes, that will be nice. I'll meet you there soon, and Dee, I'm so glad you understand, I just know that we can work through this,' Tom said before hanging up. I sat there, a mixture of nervousness and anger brewing inside my stomach. I looked at Jack hopelessly,

'We have half an hour,' I said blankly. Jack turned back to his laptop.

'I've emailed a couple of friends, they will look into a few things for me, including this forged death certificate business. You need to clean up and be ready to probe some information out of him. As long as he believes that you are on his side, we have a chance of finding out how he managed all of this,'

I stood up and walked over to the bathroom, but Jack caught my hand as I past him, he pulled me down to him and kissed my cheek, rubbing my hand with his.

'You're going to be all right, you know,' he said softly. I smiled and leaded into his hand against my cheek.

'I hope so,' I whispered.

We broke contact, and I went into the bathroom with my bag in hand. Then a slight gasp escaped my lips as I surveyed the woman standing in front of me in the mirror. I had dark rings around my eyes, making them look like panda eyes and mascara lines were down my cheeks. I had little red blotches around my nose and lips from crying, and my hair was frizzy on top. I laid out my hair and make-up supplies from my bag and set to work, fixing myself up.

I washed my face and rubbed in some primer to even out my skin tone and create a smooth canvas for my make-up. After applying a little concealer over the dark patches under my eyes and around my nose and mouth, I saw an immediate improvement. At least, now I just looked pale, like a doll.

I brushed on some powdered foundation to stop me looking so white and smoothed in a little blusher on my cheeks. My hands were trembling too much to put on any eyeliner, so I skipped that and just brushed a little mascara on my lashes. A touch of lip-gloss and a quick brush over my hair, and I looked good as new. My face did look a little artificial like I was ready to perform in a broadway musical. But I was expected to act like I didn't want to kick Tom where it really hurt. So, in a way, my look was fitting. I only hoped that I didn't lose my nerve.

Jack knocked on the bathroom door, 'Audrey, are you ready? We should be going...' his muffled voice called through the door. I turned around and opened the door, he surveyed my face and smiled.

'That's much better,' he said, his eyes twinkling. My heart swelled sadly, oh how differently this night would have been, if I had just said nothing to Mrs Callingham. I couldn't direct all of my anger at Tom, if I had said nothing, Mrs Callingham would have had no reason to fire me. I was also to blame for not being able to keep my mouth shut about Tom being a Reverend to my mother, if he hadn't felt the need to confess his deceit, then he wouldn't have felt the need to do anything rash... like kill himself. Or kill off the character he was portraying, anyway.

Jack walked me out of the hotel room and turned to me, his hands on my shoulders.

'Do you know what you're going to say?' he asked carefully, eyeing me with concern. I nodded.

'I'll listen, mostly. Tom likes to talk, so he should just blurt it all out to me if I stay quiet,' I confessed. We took the stairs down to the lobby and walked together out into the street. Jack drove us to a parking area close to Park Street and pulled up alongside a nice Mercedes.

'I like to park next to expensive cars, they're less likely to be owned by people who will hit mine,' he remarked, prompting a small laugh to escape my lips. 'Find out where he is staying exactly, where he is working now and whatever you can,' he reminded me firmly.

I took a shaky breath as I got out of the car and walked alone towards the coffee shop along the road. My mind was racing, and my stomach was dancing with nerves. I couldn't get my mind to register what was going on; everything happened so fast that I didn't really know where I was or what I was doing. The world blurred around me, as I walked ahead with tunnel vision. I focussed only on walking. Hoping that Tom would lead the conversation and help with the rest. I got to the wooden door of the coffee shop and entered; the bell rang in the little shop and the woman at the counter greeted me with a cheerful smile.

'The usual?' She asked, I nodded to her, and she bustled around preparing my favourite hot chocolate with extra cream. The steaming cup sat on the counter for me, I handed a couple of pounds over to the woman and took the cup, walking with great care, willing my hands not to shake.

The shop was quieter than I usually found it, with just a young woman, with long mousy blonde hair, flowing wildly past her shoulders. She was sat at a table in the far-right corner, typing on her laptop with a strained look on her face.

I walked over to our usual meeting point, the table in the corner facing the front door and sat on the chair by the wall so I could see Tom come in. I set my hot mug on the table and took my jacket off. I felt a soft breeze float over my body which prompted me to look up at the ceiling; a wooden ceiling fan was spinning round above my head. I noticed two other ceiling fans in the shop and wondered how I did not notice them before.

Suddenly, the bell rang, and my heart started to race as I jumped and looked down at the doorway. A couple walked in arm in arm, grinning and looking so cosy and blissful with each other. That could have been Jack and me. I frowned at the thought, wondering why the perfect romance didn't exist in normal life. Why did other people, and their crazy moody swings have to get in the way?

The bell rang again, this time a tall, skinny man walked in. He wore a trench coat, which looked out of place in the room of people in summer clothes. I spied a black collar under his coat and a black silk shirt and tie as well. It was a stark contrast with the beige coat that he wore. His straw hair was black and gelled to a side parting. But his nose and pointy features were the same. I squinted my eyes at him, he looked different, but it was definitely Tom. He walked over to me, ignoring the countertop and sat in the chair opposite me. He sat upright and marvelled for a moment.

'I had forgotten how breathtakingly beautiful you are,' he said in a silky tone. I forced a polite smile and tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear.

'Thank you,' I said stiffly. Tom's eyes bored into my body, trying to penetrate the wall of protection I put up around myself.

'I see you've dyed your hair,' I noted aloud, Tom patted his head bashfully with a guilty smile.

'Do you like it?' he asked, 'I thought you would prefer it, you know, you seem to like men with dark hair,' his words cut me inside as I realised he was talking about Jack.

'I like men who are confident in their own skin,' I snapped, then bit my lip. _Careful Dee, you need to be nice to him_. Tom's smile disappeared.

'My Mum is very sick. Since my Dad died, she has stooped into a well of sadness and will not let anyone in. She has pushed me away and no matter what I achieve, she reacts with disdain and disappointment. I thought that if I could be seen by the community as a successful, loving public figure of authority and respect, then my Mother would feel the same. Whatever you think I am, whatever I seem to be, I am this way because of her,' he said seriously. I listened quietly with bated breath, longing for some information that would help me get my job back.

'Do you have any real friends?' I asked, looking at him pointedly, probing for an honest answer. Tom gave a slight shrug.

'I had you,' he said, in a hopeful voice, 'I still have you, right?' he asked, his grey eyes glistened in the light, wet with emotion.

'I'm struggling to forgive you,' I said honestly, Tom opened his mouth to argue, but I held up my hand, 'But I understand that I am also responsible for the way things have turned out,' I continued. Tom closed his mouth. Clearly he had not been expecting to hear me take responsibility for my unlucky hand recently.

'I'm sorry about your job, Dee,' Tom said as he looked at the floor. 'I can't believe you told them though, what else was I supposed to do? Do you know what the implications would have been if they found out the truth?'

'If they found out that you are a con man, you mean,' I corrected him. Tom sat up straight.

'I am not a con man,' he said indignantly. 'Everyone writes a few white lies on their resume, are you going to say that everyone else is a con-artist too?' he asked, his chest puffed out. I raised my eyebrows at his logic. His perception was completely skewed.

'I don't lie,' I said acidly, glaring at him. Hot anger bubbled inside of me, and I struggled to keep myself from slapping him hard on the cheek. Tom gave a slight smile.

'No, you are honest and sweet-natured,' he said fondly, his words were not expected and blew away my steam. He looked at me coyly. 'I've not had a chance to meet someone so lovely and so – innocent,' he continued. I looked down; it was like he was describing a child. I wasn't a child.

'You're not like other women, especially career women,' he said, leaning forward now. 'You're so feminine, and the way you walk drives me wild. I love that you look around at the buildings as you stroll along the paths when everyone else is rushing to get their destination – you, you take in the scenery. My Dee, you teach me to enjoy the journey,' I focused on keeping my breathing steady and even, my eyes shot up at him as he spoke. I was not _his_ Dee.

'The way you dress and take care of yourself, you seem so comfortable in your own skin, not obsessing over your appearance,' He continued in a silky voice. I wasn't sure whether that was a compliment or not. His words were not giving me any information that I could use; I needed to think of a way to get him to admit something – anything would do.

'What is your real name?' I asked suddenly. Tom looked taken aback, as I cut through his flowery words of adoration.

'My name is Tom,' he answered firmly. I studied his expression, nothing about his face gave him away. Yet I couldn't take that for anything; he was a good liar. He managed to convince me for weeks that he was someone entirely different.

'Which bank are you working at now? How did you manage to pass the checks?' I asked again. Listening to him was not getting me anywhere, I needed to force something out of him. Tom looked around furtively and shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

'You don't want to know those boring details,' he said with a fake laugh. I stared pointedly at him.

'What do you want from me?' I asked sternly. Tom looked hurt.

"I want to make you happy, to be the man who holds your hand and takes you out dancing. I want to be the man who kisses you every night, who drives you to all the places in the world. I want to be the man who makes you feel whole and invincible. I want to be yours,' he said in an articulate, poetic tone. You'd think there were cameras rolling and he was the lead in a romance. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, his charm no longer worked on me.

'You made me lose my job, that does not make me feel invincible, and you have humiliated me in front of my parents, that does not make me feel loved, how on earth do you think I would want to be with you now... after all you have done to hurt me?' I cried, standing up. Tom stood up his nostrils flared as he looked at me defensive and tall.

'I did not tell Mrs Callingham to fire you, that was her decision, what did you expect Dee? You thought I would raise my hands up and say, "Oops, you got me!" let's be realistic here. How could I take care of you if I'm in jail?' I sat down again, he followed suit and became a little calmer and more controlled. I sat and waited, hoping that I had encouraged more honesty from him.

'I'm earning more than enough money to take care of us, and our family,' he began. I choked on my hot chocolate, choosing the wrong time to take a sip. Family? We were going to have a family, now? This was absurd.

'Now, I know you are worried about losing your job, and you really do have a lovely way with the girls, but I want you to be at home with our children, you can educate them and not rely on public schools to brainwash their minds,' he explained evenly. Now my nostrils flared, and I felt a stinging sensation build in my face as hot anger bubbled to the surface once more.

'What are you saying?' I asked sharply. Tom opened his trench coat and took out a small box. He laid it on the table between us and pushed it over to me. I took a shaking hand and picked it up, eyeing Tom suspiciously. When I opened the box, a platinum diamond ring was staring back at me. My whole body went cold and rigid as I took in the sight of the diamond. It was fairly modest in size, but it sparkled beautifully in the light. I looked up at Tom who was smiling at me. He reached and grabbed my hands; they were sweaty and trembling again.

'Marry me, Dee. I promise to make you happy, to be honest with you and never, ever let you down again,' he said earnestly.

'Oh, my goodness!' cried out the brunette at the countertop as she looked over to me, Tom had walked around the table and knelt down before me, holding my hand and waiting for my acceptance.

'Ok,' was all I could say. I was stunned. Completely and utterly taken aback and the only word to escape my lips happened to mean I accepted his proposal. Tom slid the ring onto my finger and grabbed my face in his hands, forcefully kissing me on the mouth. I let my body go limp and sat there waiting for it to end. Tom didn't seem to notice my lack of enthusiasm and grinned at me.

'I'm so glad, Dee. You don't know just how much it means to me that you forgive me and accept me for who I am. I can't thank you enough,' he said in a rushed tone. Then his phone started to ring, he excused himself and looked at who was calling. He gave me a nervous look and said,

'I have to go, I'll call you tomorrow?' and quickly left the shop, leaving me sitting on the sofa, with half a cup of cold hot chocolate and ring sitting on my wedding finger. The band was hot and burned into my skin. At least, it felt that way to me. A sick feeling of guilt rose in my stomach, and my head started thumping in pain.

A few awkward moments passed as the brunette at the counter eyed me strangely, probably wondering why I hadn't jumped up and dashed out of the shop after my new fiancé. Then I remembered that Jack was waiting for me in the car park nearby. I got to my feet and hurried out the door, not paying attention to anyone or anything around me.

The Mercedes had gone when I walked up to the blue BMW sat in the car park. Jack was on the phone and typing away on his laptop sitting in the driver's seat. I got in the passenger side, and Jack looked at me anxiously, promptly ended his telephone conversation and closed his laptop.

'How did it go?' he asked, anticipating some news. I stared at him, my eyes wide and still shocked.

'He asked me to marry him,' I said as I held up my hand to him, the little diamond glinted in the car light. Jack held my fingers and looked at the ring with care. His eyebrows raised high and mouth open to reveal the surprise.

'Well, I didn't expect you to accept,' he said, sounding far too calm. His lack of dramatic response snapped me out of my state of shock and give him a hard look. 'Is that all you're going to say?' I snapped, 'What am I supposed to do, now?'

Jack held my hand in his, the warmth of his skin against mine send tingles of pleasure through my body. I looked at his face, his chiseled face, and bright blue eyes staring back at me. Our eyes lingered on each other for a moment before he leaned into me and kissed me lightly on the lips. His nose touched my cheek as he held me close and I took in his natural scent. Everything about him made me want to surrender all my walls and let him in. The ring on my finger should have been given to me by him. Jack, my dear sweet, level-headed Jack. He had this amazing ability to keep me grounded and kept his calm in a moment of craziness. We held each other close, and Jack stroked my hair as he breathed deeply through his nose, soaking at the moment.

Then Jack put his laptop on the back seat of the car and started the engine.

'Let's get you back to your car,' he said softly. My heart ached with hurt, reflecting the sadness in his eyes. It felt like we had just shared a goodbye kiss. I supposed that Jack would not want to know me, not now that I had become engaged to a mad man.

I sat there in silence as Jack drove the car through the streets towards Clifton. Once he parked up next to my little Corsa, I opened the passenger door and gave one more forlorn look at Jack. He touched my arm, and said,

'I need to think about things, ok?' I nodded sadly in response. Of course, I scared him off. How could he deal with all of this drama? Dating was not supposed to be this complicated. Any chance of us being together was diminished by the fact that Tom was not going to back down easily. He will always be in the way, and who knows what else he could do to ruin our lives? With a nod of acceptance, I softly said good bye to Jack and got into my car. I watched the BMW roll off into the distance and around a corner out of sight. Then I started the car and cried all the way home.

## 8

# Chapter Eight

Nobody Likes A Sore Loser

* * *

I had nowhere to go the next morning, so when I woke up at the usual time to get ready for work, I stayed in bed and played with the engagement ring in my hands. I don't know what it was that made me accept Tom's offer. It certainly was not out of love and excitement. I couldn't believe the difference between the forceful, uncomfortable kiss he gave me and the tender, passionate kiss of farewell I shared with Jack. What was wrong with the world? What was the plan now? I wouldn't marry Tom - I couldn't! But perhaps with this new commitment, I could somehow get hold of the fake death certificate, or his real passport... and then if I presented it to Mrs Callingham, she would apologise and even offer me a teaching role in the school to make up for her grave misjudgement?

Being engaged didn't mean marriage necessarily. It was not uncommon to have couples live together engaged but never marry. Engagement in those days were more like a sign of a couple's plan to marry, but often never something they got around to actually doing. As for Jack, it couldn't be the end. How could he admit defeat so easily? Doesn't he know that no one likes a sore loser? Did he really believe that I had changed my mind, fallen in love with Tom and truthfully accepted his proposal? Was he mad? I couldn't let it go, I needed to talk to him, tell him how I feel, and somehow convince him that he is the one I want. But he needed time to think, and I needed time to work out how I was going to avoid being physically intimate with Tom and yet earn his trust enough to see his apartment or where ever it was that he lived. And how would I get away with it, once I expose the truth to Mrs Callingham and she believes me? How would he retaliate? Would he kill himself for real? Would he do something stupid? Could I find myself in danger?

The worrisome thing about Tom and the situation that I found myself in, was that Tom was an exceptionally good liar and worked unpredictably. He seemed to possess multiple personalities which made him extremely difficult to read. Who knows if his story about his mother was the truth or not. I needed to work this out in my mind, but I needed help. My mother's voice entered my head, _you have no idea what you're doing_. I silently agreed. I needed someone to give me some perspective, someone who wasn't closely involved and had wisdom to shed a little light on what I am supposed to do. I knew what I had to do. It was time to call my parents.

'Hello darling Dee, how are you?' my mother's high voice sang through the speaker. I smiled slightly at the sound of her chirpy voice. Oh, how nice it would be to have a nice normal day which would result in having a positive attitude and never dreading the phone ringing. I remember I used to have days like those. How my life had changed in just a matter of days.

'Mum, I need your help,' I said dully. My mother kept her silence, waiting for me offload all my concerns to her and ready to explain why my worries were menial with a painstakingly easy solution of which I was too immature and naïve to see for myself.

'It's been a hellish week, Mum. I don't even know where to start.' I took a deep breath. 'Tom overheard our conversation in the kitchen,'

'Oh, so he didn't like my thoughts on my daughter dating a reverend?' my mother asked, her voice sickly sweet, clearly enjoying this, sounding pleased with herself.

'No, he confessed to me that he was impersonating a reverend. He's not even remotely religious, it seems.' I explained.

'Oh,' was all that my mother would say. I took the opportunity to continue before she interrupted me again.

'He lied to get the job, and we had a big fight about it. Well, I went to work on Monday morning, and he called me, begging me not to tell the school. I was determined to tell the headmistress but waited until after the school assembly.'

'What did she say, when you told her that she hired a fraud?' My mother asked, her voice now intrigued and serious.

'I didn't have a chance to tell her, not before she announced to the school that, due to a tragedy, reverend Pembleton passed away that morning!' I shot out quickly, my breath quickening. My mother gasped in response.

'He's dead? He was so concerned about the truth coming out that he killed himself? Oh, Dee! I'm so -'

'No, that's not all,' I intercepted. My mother stopped short, horrified.

'He faked his death. He got someone to call, posing as a brother and inform the school that he had died that morning,' I said quickly. 'How do you know this,' my mother asked quietly.

'Because after school, he came to see me,' I replied in a thin voice. Reliving it all was just as distressing as when it happened in the first place. 'He said that he now works in a bank, mum, he's dyed his hair black, changed his clothes and even the way he acts is like a different person.'

'He sounds like he's not quite right in the head,' My mother stated in a detached voice. I couldn't disagree, what kind of person, in their right mind, would go around lying about their identity and fake the death of their alter ego. Thinking about it made my head hurt. 'But Mum, you know Jack,' I started carefully, Mum's voice was now bright and excited.

'Oh yes, have you seen him since?' she asked, anxious to hear my news.

'Yes, yes, he took me to a party, and we were dancing-' I began, but then my mother burst out with one hundred questions. Did he smell nice? What was he wearing? Was he a gentleman? Do you like him? Will you date him again? And so on, and so forth.

'I think he's wonderful,' I confessed, smiling to myself. 'We just... we work well together. He keeps me grounded, and yet he's so adventurous. I love the way he can simultaneously make me feel like my heart is racing and my body relax despite whatever stress I'm going through,' My mother listened to me talk about Jack fondly and murmured her approval.

'I knew he would be good for you, Dee,' she said confidently. I rolled my eyes; it was the old "I told you so," talk.

'So, when is the wedding?' She joked, which brought me rudely back to reality and made me look at the ring on my left hand. It felt like a heavy weight on my slender finger.

'Actually mum, I am technically engaged,' I said slowly, cringing as the words came out of my trembling mouth.

'That was quick! Oh, Dee, well it's your life, I do think it's a little soon to be making that sort of life-changing decision, especially with someone you do not know very well. I mean, darling, I know Jack is lovely, and it does sound like he's your match made in heaven, but think about this seriously, have you met his family? Do you know anything about him, at all? There's more than physical attraction to think about in these scenarios,' My mother reeled off her advice.

'I'm not engaged to Jack, mum.' I butt in. My mother fell quiet.

'What do you mean?' She asked, baffled. I swallowed nervously, not wanting to say it aloud. If I said it aloud, then it meant that it was really happening, and I wasn't ready to admit that it was real. I was going to marry Tom. Or at least, I said that I would. Which was just as bad, in my view.

'Tom asked me to marry him,' I blurted out as quickly as possible. My mother gasped loudly over the phone, and I heard something clanging to the floor. 'Are you okay?' I asked quickly. My mother apologised,

'I dropped a pan. Audrey Williams, why are you engaged to the crazy con-artist and not to the genuine, loveable accountant? Have you gone mad?'

'I love him. I can barely breathe with all the emotion sitting on my chest. All I want to do is spend every day of the rest of my life with him,'

'Listen to yourself, you are not in love with this man, you do not know who he truly is, honestly, Dee, this will not be the first time that he's impersonated someone, people don't just wake up and decided to pretend to be a reverend one day,' My mother said seriously. My eyes welled up as she talked, I shook my head to her words.

'No, not Tom. I don't want anything to do with him; it's Jack that I want. I can't even bare the thought of not seeing him again,' I gushed.

'Dee, you're not making any sense,' My mother cut in, her voice stern and full of confusion. 'You are in love with Jack, but you're engaged to Tom?' she asked incredulously. I agreed. 'What is going on inside that head of yours, I'll never know!' she ranted.

'I told Mrs Callingham that Tom is a fraud, that reverend Pembleton didn't really exist and that Tom was very much alive and had lied about his identity,' I said quickly.

My mother sounded curious. 'And what did she do?' she asked, probably hoping that my new fiancé was now locked up in jail or something.

'She fired me,' I said in a glum voice. My mother started screeching down the phone, planning to call the school and complain, insisting that they reinstated my job.

'She saw Tom's "brother" face to face and has a copy of the death certificate,' I explained steadily. There was far too much information to reveal. 'Apparently I caused great embarrassment to the school, and so, she fired me today,' I finished. My mother stayed quiet for a minute or two, probably surprised that for once I presented her with a problem that was more complicated than the high school, "He likes her, but she likes someone else," kind of thing. This required a whole new level of problem-solving.

'Wait, why are you engaged to Tom again?' my mother asked, distracted by the absurdity of the situation.

'Jack and I planned to get more information out of Tom, something we could use to expose him and get Mrs Callingham to see that I was telling the truth. Unfortunately, the plan backfired, and Tom asked me to marry him. I didn't get anything out of him that would be useful, so I figured that if we were engaged, I would have access to his personal belongings or at least find something useful.' My mother made a noise of frustration and sighed.

'Dee, I know that it's horrible what this con man has done to you, I know you loved that school with all your heart, and it will be terrible to have to find somewhere else to work. But darling, there are other schools to teach, and please take my advice,' My mother started seriously, I held onto every word she spoke.

'Let it go,' she said firmly, 'go after your lovely man Jack, and forget this other one, block his calls, don't see him, don't talk to him, don't try to expose him, he will get what's coming to him one day, but my sweetheart, I do not want you in the middle of that. Please just tell him you didn't know what you were thinking, give the ring back and cut him off.'

'You should have seen the look on Jack's face when I showed him the ring, mum, it was horrible,' I said sadly.

'I'm really serious Dee; please let it go. The only person you are hurting is yourself,' My mother said in her "I know what's best" motherly tone. The difficulty was, I could not argue with her. Deep down inside, I knew that she was right. I knew that despite everything I had been through, I needed to cut my losses, learn my lessons and move on. 'Ok, thanks mum, I'll call you when this is all sorted out,' I said with a sense of finality in my voice.

'Call me anytime, I worry about you darling.' My mother said.

When I hung up the phone, I searched it for Tom's number. I hadn't kept his number as a contact, but he was the last number to call me. I dialled the number; Tom picked up after the first ring. 'Hello, my sweetheart,' he said lightly. My stomach churned.

'Tom, I've made a mistake. I don't want to marry you,' I said heavily. Tom stayed quiet. 'Tom?' I asked, checking my phone signal in case the line cut off.

'I heard you,' he said, his voice now serious. 'Are you going to let me in? Sounds like we need to talk,' he asked. I ran over to the lounge window and looked out to see Tom, in his trench coat, looking up at me, his phone in hand and standing on my driveway.

'What are you doing here?' I cried out; Tom looked up at me darkly. His grey eyes looked black from where I was standing. 'So, are you going to let me in? Or am I going to have to break down the door,' Tom asked coldly.

I resisted the urge to cry out, but my heart thumped wildly with fear. I hung up the phone and paced the lounge, frantically thinking of something, anything. I fumbled with my phone and called Jack's number, he answered almost immediately.

'Jack, please, I'm in trouble,' I whispered down the phone, my whole-body trembling with fear.

'Where are you?' he urged. I gave him my address as a loud banging on the front door made me drop the phone. 'What was that? Audrey, are you there?' Jack's voice slightly panicked called out of the phone. I picked the phone up again and said, 'He's here, at my house, and he's angry. Please, Jack, I don't know what he's going to do, and I don't know who else there is to call,' I babbled breathlessly in a quiet voice.

'I'll be there in 18 minutes, do not let him in, listen, Audrey, do not let him in your house. If you have to talk to him, try and keep him calm, say whatever you need to, to keep him from getting upset, remember Dee, we don't know who or what we are dealing with here, when all else fails... get yourself a weapon, lock yourself in the bathroom and call the police,' Jack's voice was urgent and I could hear the roaring of the engine in the background. He was racing to get to me, to be my knight in shining armour again. I just needed to survive until he got here.

## 9

# Chapter Nine

When All Else Fails...Pick Up A Frying Pan

* * *

The banging on the door stopped. I waited with bated breath, hoping that Tom would get bored and go back to his home, wherever that was. What was he doing outside? Did he follow me home? How long had he been standing outside, on my driveway? Suddenly I heard a click in the lock downstairs, and the front door creaked open. My heart stopped dead in my chest. I stood rooted on the spot, barely able to breathe as I listened to the door close again.

'Are you going to talk to me now, Dee?' Tom's oddly calm voice called up the stairs. I snapped into motion, running on tiptoes to the kitchen and grabbing the first weapon I could find – a frying pan which was sat on the draining board. The stairs creaked slowly as Tom started to climb them, I ran silently down the hall and barricaded myself in the bathroom, clutching the frying pan in my hand for dear life. I pushed the laundry basket up against the bathroom door and listened to Tom's footsteps, heading for my direction.

'Nice place,' Tom called out pleasantly. My arms were aching from holding the frying pan up against my head, bracing for some sort of confrontation with the madman who had just broken into my house.

'Dee, don't be ridiculous, come out of the bathroom and talk to me. All I want to do is talk; you can't expect me to just accept your rejection and be on my way, can you? Not when I know you will be laughing about it all to him.' His voice carried a hint of disdain. I could sense that his irritation was starting to show through the cracks of his act.

'You've just broken into my house, and you were standing outside, watching me... tell me Tom, how many times have you been here? Spying on me?' I shouted through the door. The footsteps stopped outside the bathroom.

'Now Dee, let's not get dramatic; you're making me out to be some sort of stalker,' Tom reasoned.

Why was it that I was feeling like the crazy person in the scenario? Tom sounded perfectly calm and controlled – and I was standing in the bathroom, mentally unhinged with a frying pan in my hands. I shakily took my phone out of my pocket and dialled for the emergency services.

'999 what's your emergency?' a woman's bored voice shouted out of the speaker. I dropped the phone on the floor, stunned by the loud noise and the obvious give away to Tom that I was calling the police.

'Dee, don't be silly when the police come here, what do you think will happen? They will see that a hormonal fiancée is having a breakdown over the stress of planning the wedding. You forgot to take your medication, is what I'll say to them,'

'They won't believe you,' I shouted back.

'Oh really? They will believe the man, who has the house keys in his hand, with no sign of break-in on the front door, who is smartly dressed and well-spoken, a respectable banker home from a long day at work... or will they believe the unemployed, frantic girlfriend who has, according to the reports of the neighbours, been screaming and shouting? Come on, hang up the phone,' Tom said calmly. I hesitated. Looking down at the phone to see that 8 minutes had passed. Jack was on his way; He will come and sort this out. He'll save me. I thought wildly. With that thought, the phone line went dead.

'Why don't you open this door and come out, I want to know why you've suddenly changed your mind? Are you upset about losing your job? We can discuss it. I would prefer you to stay at home, as you know, but if that's something you really take issue to, I would not be completely closed to the idea of you taking on a little work outside the home. Especially before we have any children,'

'You're mad!' I shouted frantically back to him through the white door. I noticed that the lock was sliding sideways slowly. I grabbed the lock and stopped it in its tracks.

'Dee, what have I done, to make you so terrified of me?' he asked softly. I bit my lip, my hair falling in front of my eyes as I shifted my weight and held onto the lock with my sweating hands.

'You've been following me,' I called back. Tom was silent for a moment.

'I do it for your protection,' he stated simply. My jaw dropped, and I staggered backwards, knocked back by the confirmation that Tom had been stalking me.

'I've been watching you ever since the first day we met,' Tom said, turning the handle of the bathroom. I stared in horror as the door moved forward painfully slowly, the laundry basket sliding away as it moved.

'Remember that day, Dee? We bumped into each other at the canteen at school; you were besotted with me, I could see it in those huge eyes of yours. You showed me something I see in very few young women. Do you know what it was? Innocence.'

The door was open fully now, and Tom was standing, still wearing his black suit. His black hair was slightly tousled, and I noticed an awkward line of black hair dye along his hairline. He smiled at me, like a father to a child. It sent a chilling shiver down my spine.

'Don't come near me,' I warned, raising the pan above my head. Tom walked forward a step and cocked his head to the side, studying me. I must have looked a sight, dishevelled, wild and shaking.

'You are trying to defend yourself against the one person who is trying to protect you,' he said evenly.

'What on earth are you talking about?' I questioned, his logic was unfathomable.

'You think Jack is going to protect you? He'll break you. That's what men do, Dee. Men take women for themselves and their evil pleasures,' His eyes danced up and down my body slowly, it felt like hot acid burning on the parts of me he rested his eyes.

'You can't be reasoned with, your mind isn't right, Tom, can't you see yourself, you've been following me, and broken into my house, forced your way into my bathroom... what are you going to force your way into next? When will you get the hint? I don't want you here!' I said, now crying. Tom walked confidently forward and stood an inch away from me. He towered over my small frame and picked up the pan in my hand using his finger and his thumb.

'Let's put this down,' he said softly. His breath stank of alcohol, now he was close to me.

He reached down and took my hand in his. His grey eyes glinted as they never left mine, he took my finger in his mouth, and he pulled the engagement ring off my finger with his teeth.

I stood still, praying for Jack to get there now, any time now would be good, he just needed to come. I expected Tom to spit out the ring, but he gave me a grim smile and swallowed it instead. A lump ran slowly down his throat; the sight made me sick to my stomach. Everything about this man was creepy and utterly repulsive. I glanced around the bathroom; I was cornered by the small window with frosted glass, and next to the shower cubicle. The Toilet was behind Tom to the left next to the sink. I looked down; Tom was standing on the shag pile rug; his leather shoes were polished to perfection.

'You break my heart,' Tom whispered, his eyes dark. 'I've shown you nothing but love and adoration, I've treated you like a queen and what do I get in return? You act like I'm some sort of psychopathic madman,' he continued.

'I'm sorry,' I whispered shakily, my heart racing. 'I'm really sorry, you're right, I'm just very confused,' I rambled, trying to buy myself time before Jack came to rescue me from this bizarre situation. Though Tom was calm, his demeanour was threatening and intimidating. I could not trust him, I could not second-guess him, and that frightened me to no end.

'Why did you just unlock my door and come in?' I asked. Tom looked pointedly at me; his hands held my shoulders. I flinched against his touch. He noticed my reaction, it seemed, because he his eyes looked hurt.

'I needed to see you, talk some sense into you. My dear Dee, do you really believe I'm going to hurt you?' he asked, his voice soft now. 'You're scaring me,' I breathed. Tom's hands dropped to his sides, and he took a step back, I clutched my arms and walked backwards until I felt the windowsill digging into my back.

'What do I have to do, to get you to realise that we belong together?' His face looked conflicted. Tom started to look troubled, and his whole attitude flipped into a complete opposite.

'I'm so sorry, I don't know what I was thinking,' he said, horrified. I stared at him, disbelief and shock coursing through my veins. Another personality change.

Tom leant over the white sink basin and heaved for several minutes. I stood where I was, hardly daring to breathe, willing Jack to arrive. Where was he? Tom sank to his knees and wept, his shoulders bobbing up and down with his violent tears.

'I can't live without you Dee,' he sobbed. 'I can't; I just can't do it.'

I could not even bring myself to speak; he had sunk to an all-new low to have me lower my defence. Well, I wasn't going to give in to his dramatics. The air filled with the sound of a car rumbling down the road and coming to a stop somewhere outside the house and made me jump with anxiety. Tom looked up at me with a furious expression. 'You spoke to the police?' he asked vehemently, I shook my head, my eyes wide and filled up with tears. Tom stood up and strode over to me. He grabbed me by the arms and lifted me over his shoulder. I screamed with fright and kicked my legs as he walked me out of the bathroom and towards the lounge. Tom let out a strained laugh.

'I should have known,' he sniffed. I stopped screaming and tried to turn and look around; I caught a glimpse of a short, dark-haired figure standing at the top of the stairs. 'Put her down,' he snarled. My heart leapt in response to the sound of his voice. My shining knight had come to save me. Tom dropped me uncaringly to the ground, I landed on my hip, and a dull pain spread down my right leg. I looked up to see Jack's three brothers, standing next to him. Their fists were clenched, and shoulders squared. They looked quite a threatening sight. That must have been why Jack took so long; he was getting back up.

'Now, get out,' he ordered Tom. Who raised his hands in the air and gave me a dark look before walking towards the stairs. Jack stood in his path and stopped him for a moment, his blue eyes dark with fury.

'You are never to come here again, understand? If I see you anywhere near Audrey, then we are going to have a big problem,' he said in a loud, demanding voice. He was almost two feet shorter than Tom, who gave an amused chuckle in response to Jack's bravery. But his laugh was cut short by Jack's fist which made contact with his jaw. A cringe-making cracking sound filled the room and Tom was knocked to the ground, whimpering as he clutched his jaw with a shaking hand. Jack's brothers walked forward, and circled Tom. Jack nodded to his brothers who looked like they were about to beat Tom into a pulp.

'No!' I cried out desperately, wincing with pain as I got to my feet. The men looked at me with identical expressions of surprise – as if they had forgotten I was in the room with them. It was the oddest scene.

I recognised Josh, he was standing next to Jack, he was slightly taller and with a round face and black glasses. He shaved his hair short to camouflage his balding hairline. He must have been the oldest, because the identical brothers, who were stood slightly away, had a lot of teenage acne and their arms were scrawny. They were all looking at me; Tom was cowering on the floor, still holding his jaw which stuck out at an odd angle and was starting to swell. I moved over to him and took a closer look, he eyed me as I moved his hand to see the damage.

'It looks like you've broken his jaw,' I said aloud to Jack, he glanced back at his brothers, lost for words.

'Right, looks like you need to visit the hospital mate, now off you go...' Josh said, in a patronising voice. Tom stood up tall and sneered at them all.

'We're going to have a serious problem,' Tom said in his dry voice. He towered over the three short men as they circled him like over-confident puppies ganging up on a Great Dane. Josh moved forward, his round face blotchy and sweating at the confrontation. He squared his jaw and puffed his chest out.

'Get out of here,' He snarled, his hands balled up into angry fists. The tension in the room was fierce as I stood in the corner of the room, blood running down my pale arm and rooted on the spot, waiting for something to happen. Tom's grey eyes darkened as he glared back at Josh, apparently annoyed at the inconvenient turn of events. He was going to punish me for this, I was certain, and he turned to glance at me with a look to confirm my suspicions. As he strode out of the house, the front door slammed behind him. I knew that this was far from over. Jack's brothers looked out of the window, while he hurried to my side.

'Are you alright?' He asked in a low voice, his eyes full of concern. I yearned to have him close to me, to feel his protective arms take my feeble body and save me from this nightmare.

Jack looked at my arm and hurried into the kitchen, searching the cupboards for something. He came out again with a first aid kit and started cleaning the wound. I had caught the edge of the TV unit as Tom dropped me to the floor, creating a long cut on my arm.

'It's a shallow wound, don't worry,' Jack reassured me as he cleaned it with the antibacterial wipes. Then he pulled out a pad of cotton and wrapped a bandage around it to secure it in place. His hands were hot against my cold skin; I was shivering and nauseous. The shock of the night's events was beginning to set in.

'Thank you so much,' I whispered. Jack shushed me as he worked on the bandage on my arm, making sure it was perfectly secure.

'He's gone,' James announced, and the brothers relaxed.

'Are you ok there, love?' Josh asked, walking towards me. I nodded in reply; my head was spinning. Jack held my arms as I struggled to my feet, I leaned into his warm torso and rested my head on his shoulder. He rubbed my cheek with his right hand as he held me close. Jack's brothers watched a slight look of amusement on their faces.

'You two look cosy,' Josh stated with a smile.

'Give it a break,' Jack said quickly, sighing and guiding me to sit on the couch. 'You need to tell us what happened,' he said to me in a soft, gentle voice. The brothers seated themselves on the carpet, looking at me, expecting me to talk. I gave a sigh; this was exhausting.

'I really don't feel very well; can I just get some sleep first?' I asked, looking around them all sadly.

'Well, could you just give us a quick account?' Jack asked, coaxing me to talk. I did not want to talk about it. I wanted to curl up in bed and fall into a dreamless sleep and stay there for at least a week. Not talking, not thinking and definitely not planning to do anything. My mind was overwhelmed and overused, barely able to catch up with all that happened over the last couple of weeks, let alone hours! But Jack and his brothers stared me down, and I realised that they all needed to know what Tom did; why he was here, and why he was carrying me when they found me? I took a deep breath and sat up a little.

'I phoned Tom to tell him I made a mistake, that I could not marry him, and then I planned to block his number and cut him off, no more contact, I would forget about getting even or gathering evidence to expose him and earn my job back... I just wanted to cut my losses and let it all go, you know, get on with my life,' I rambled, half talking to myself and half thinking aloud. Jack nodded at me to continue.

'Well, he answered the phone, and I told him that I didn't want to marry him, that whatever it was we had going on between us, had to end. And he told me that he was standing outside my house and wanted to come inside and talk about it.'

'He was outside your house?' James asked, his face screwed up.

'That's a bit creepy,' Josh remarked. I nodded anxiously in agreement.

'He admitted that he has been following me since the first day that we met at work,' I swallowed the ball of nerves in my throat as Jack stood up and started pacing the room.

'Well, how long ago was that?' he asked.

'Over two months ago,' I replied, trying to work out the dates.

An uncomfortable shiver washed over me at the realisation that Tom had been watching my every move, perhaps managing to listen to the conversations I had with my parents and with Jack. Though, for the most part, I was reclusive and spent my spare time speaking with Tom in the coffee shop or talking on the phone. I couldn't get my mind around the thought that Tom and reverend Pembleton were the same person. When Tom was a reverend, he was polite, jovial and so easy to get on with and open up to.

When he admitted that he wasn't really who he said he was all this time, everything between us changed. I was mourning the loss of a friend, someone who I enjoyed seeing every day and even looked forward to spending time with. Then suddenly, feeling betrayed and treated like a fool. His scent, his kiss, everything physical left an imprint of guilt on my soul. It was like his hands were covered in filth, and whenever he touched me, the filth was passed onto me, and I was dirty. The filth was his deceit and betrayal; it was unforgivable. Yet I was willing to get to know him, to understand why it was that he decided to live a false life. Then he got me fired, and he became intense, over-powering and possessive. He wanted me as his possession, and nothing I said would change the way he felt. In his mind, I was his property, and he was entitled to stalking me, he was allowed to be angry with me seeing Jack, and there was nothing wrong with him picking the front door lock and entering my house.

_Because I was his precious little trophy and he could do whatever he wanted with it._

_Well, not anymore._ I thought to myself, my jaw clenched with anger. Jack and his brothers were in discussion over harassment law and if there was any benefits in requesting a restraining order from the police.

'Thing is, this guy has forged a death certificate, personified at least two different people that we know of, with probably more in his past, and he's capable of breaking into a house,' Josh explained, his heavy eyebrows knitted together as he spoke. 'This guy won't be put off by a restraining order, especially as we don't know what his real name is, and there's the matter of finding him and making him aware of the restraining order. We need to find him, undoubtably, but my point is, how do you track down a man who doesn't even exist?'

The room was silent in response to the heavy question. It was a valid point. What could be done? He seemed invincible and dangerously obsessed with me. But why me? I was not the only woman who gave any attention to Tom; I remembered the female teachers at school were talkative and complimentary to him. The brunette at the counter in the coffee shop was besotted with him, from the many times we sat in the shop, and she stared at him adoringly and gave me assertive glances and looks of disapproval, why did he not go after her? I was pretty certain that she would not have taken issue with him showering her with every compliment under the sun and worshipping the ground she walks on. Of course, I enjoyed those things about Tom after first. But his sickly sweet sentiments left a bad aftertaste, and his over the top loving attitude was suffocating. Though, he was just not 'the one' for me. If Jack had been the one who lied about being an accountant, I wouldn't have cared at all. If he asked me to be a stay at home wife, I'd think about it, not become offended by the idea. If he kissed me, I wouldn't cringe away or feel repelled by him. I looked at Jack as he rubbed the back of his neck. He had dark rings under his eyes, and his usually tanned skin was pale. He needed sleep. I shut off my thoughts and finished the story.

'He broke into the house, came up the stairs while I locked myself into the bathroom, then he got into the bathroom and said that if I called the police, he would convince them that I was a raving mad girlfriend who needed her medication.' Cries of indignation responded my account.

'That's disgusting,' Joe said, who had been sat quietly in the corner until that point. His narrow face was similar to Jack's but less defined and more boyish.

'I can't believe this guy, what a conniving, sick con-artist,' James ranted. The brothers murmured in reply.

'You gave his ring back then,' Jack said, looking at my bare hand.

'It was horrible,' I started, reliving the moment when he walked into my personal space and slid the ring off my finger using his teeth.

I recounted what happened, '- and then, he looked at me with this crazed facial expression and swallowed the ring,'

'He swallowed the ring?' Jack repeated, stunned. Joe laughed.

'He'll regret that in the morning, ouch!' Jack glared at him, now was not the time to be making jokes.

The room was silent once more as the men thought about what to do next. Everyone looked like they were losing energy and focus. I looked up at Jack, in a pleading manner.

'Please can I go to sleep,' I begged. 'I'm so drained, it's been the longest day, and I just need to go to bed.'

Jack hesitated, staring at his brothers as they slowly got to their feet.

'Well, bro looks like you've got this under control. We'll regroup in the morning. I'll get these boys back home, and you give us a call if you need us again,' Josh said, clapping his hands together. He turned to me, his face concerned.

'I'm glad you're all right, love, but be careful yeah? This scum bag isn't worth your time,' he advised. I gave him a hug, he was soft and smelt of stale sweat.

'Thank you so much,' I said, as I hugged each of them. They all said their goodbyes and tailed out of the room, down the stairs and through the front door. Jack watched them go and shifted his weight on his feet awkwardly.

'I don't feel comfortable leaving you here,' he began, his eyes scrutinising every part of my lounge, probably working out how many ways Tom could break into my house.

'Then don't leave,' I replied, picking up his hand and giving it a squeeze.

'You saved me today,' I said fervently, 'who knows what Tom had planned for me, where he was going to take me and what-' I hesitated 'What he was planning to do to me,' my voice broke. Jack took my arm and draped it around his strong neck and lifted me into the air. Like a groom would carry his bride over the threshold of their marital home. It was a contrast to the way Tom carried me before, he held me close to him, I rested my head against his chest and listened to the steady _thump, thump_ of his heartbeat. He carried me all the way down the hall and into my bedroom, he stopped in the doorway.

'Do you want me to put you to bed?' he asked carefully. I nodded, almost asleep in his arms, as my body relaxed into his embrace and my mind slowed down. Sleep was threatening to come at any moment. Jack walked inside the room and helped me lay down onto the bed and pulled the covers over my body. He stroked the hair away from my face and kissed my forehead; his lips were warm on the cold sweat gathering on my brow.

'Stay,' I whispered, my eyes closed now, utterly exhausted and emotionally drained. I couldn't bare the thought of waking up in the cold, empty coach house, with the knowledge that my house locks do not keep me safe from a person who dedicated to breaking into the house. Jack sat on top of the covers on the bed and silently watched over me, as I took my final breaths and fell into a deep and troubled sleep.

_Tom was running towards me at a phenomenal speed, he bared his teeth to expose his giant fangs and morphed into a snarling dog, foaming at the mouth and snapping at me. I screamed, and shook and tried to run away, but my legs refused to move. My neck was stiff and sore, and my whole body would not cooperate with me. Jack shushed me from a distance, which sent me into a bigger frenzy._

'Where are you?' I tried to cry out, but instead, a drugged moan escaped my lips. Jack's calm voice entered my mind,

'It's all right, you're having nightmares, 'he said softly. Stroking my hair. I blinked open my eyes, allowing my body a few moments to realise that I had woken up. Jack was sat up next to me on the bed, typing away on his laptop which was sitting on his lap. He looked down at me with a smile,

'Good morning,' he said in a pleasant voice. The room was light as the sun streamed in through a gap in the curtains. I yawned and arched my back, stretching out my arms and legs like a cat waking up after a nap.

'How did you sleep?' Jack asked softly. I yawned again, sitting upright. The covers fell down revealing my t-shirt that was bloody from the night before. The horrific memories of the night came flooding back to me and made me wince against it all.

'I slept ok,' I replied, Jack was staring at me with a look of concern and another expression — one that was difficult to read. I couldn't quite tell if he was admiring me or mildly amused by something. I made to get out of bed, but Jack stopped me. He leaned in and gave me a soft peck on the cheek.

'You look adorable by the way,' he said, his dimple showing as he gave me a grin. I automatically smiled in return, then I got out of bed and walked down the hall to the bathroom. When I entered the room, the shaggy rug was folded over on one side and reminded me that Tom was stood there. A huge sense of panic filled my entire body and built up in my chest. I struggled to breathe, and huge wracks of sobs sent my body into convulsions.

'Jack!' I cried, feeling like I was being choked to death. I fell to my knees and let the tears flow endlessly as I gave into the panic. Jack came running into the bathroom and held me tightly in his arms. He sat on the floor with me and cradled my body.

'You're all right, you're safe, nothing is going to happen to you,' he said in a calming voice. He rocked me back and forward like a baby and gave me light kisses on the top of my head. I felt my chest loosen up and my breath came back to me, he was the antidote for the negative reaction I had to Tom. It was remarkable that Jack and I had only known each other for a couple of weeks, it felt like years, yet I didn't really know much about him. I did know his heart though, and it was kind and made of gold.

'Audrey,' he murmured into my hair, I looked up at him, his face was extremely white now, and the circles under his eyes were darker. He must have stayed awake the entire night, watching over me as I slept. Funnily enough, the thought was not disturbing to my mind, as it would have been had Tom been the one sitting next to me on my bed, watching me sleep. I pushed away the thought, as the image in my mind stirred up feelings of anxiety in my stomach.

'We're going to sort this out,' he said, hopeful. I gave a small smile in return, hardly able to believe how we could solve this impossible riddle. How can we stop Tom from coming back again? How can we expect him to give up when he has already shown how fixated he was on getting to me and keeping me as a possession? I wondered where he was at that moment, was he laying in a hospital bed after having treatment for his jaw? Did he think that would be too risky to do and decided to stay somewhere close by to work out his next move? Or did he truly leave and go to his house?

'I've been thinking about our plan,' Jack's words broke into my thoughts. I leaned into his chest and relaxed, listening to his voice. His chest rumbled against my ear as he spoke, it made me feel the urge to fall asleep again.

'What have you come up with?' I asked through a yawn, closing my eyes and cherishing this moment with him. I was in the safest place I could be, in the protective arms of the only man in the world that I loved and trusted deeply.

'You won't like it, but it has to be done,' he began. I yawned again, only half-listening now.

'I need to get a few hours sleep first, but I'm going to drive you to your parents' house, where you're going to stay until this is all sorted out,' he said quickly. My head shot up, and I looked at him again, alarmed.

'I can't stay there, Tom knows where they live as well, and if I told them what happened last night, they would feel like they would have to babysit me day and night. They won't give me a second of privacy,' I almost whined.

'I need to track him down, find out where he's working at the moment, who he is walking around pretending to be, and where he's living,' Jack explained evenly. 'Then I need to get the authorities to work with me in getting this guy locked up, we can get somewhere with harassment, but that will only result in a warning and a restraining order – though truth be told, I haven't looked into that yet, a friend of mine is a barrister at the crown courts in London, I'll see what he says about it all,'

'Can we just leave it? Can we not just let it go, and move on? Maybe... maybe, we could run away together and change our names' I asked wildly, pleading with my eyes. Jack cradled my face in his shaking hands.

'You are amazing, for even thinking that,' he said honestly, his blue eyes were timeless, sparkling pools of emotion. I could feel myself becoming lost in those eyes.

'Right now, I can't think of anything I would want more, I feel this urge to protect you, and I want to be there for you day and night to keep you safe and make you happy,' he said softly stroking my tangled hair. His face grew serious and brooding.

'But will he let it go? Will he stop, just because of a little confrontation with me and the lads?' he shook his head darkly, irritated by the situation.

'No, we need to get rid of him, somehow. Or give him something else to become obsessed with. I'm also determined to get your job back; your headmistress needs to understand that she has been conned. She was wrong to let you go, I'm not going to sit here and let your career be ruined just because of this dodgy, so-called reverend' He said intensely. My heart swelled and softened. He wanted to take care of me, how many times had he saved me already?

'It's too dangerous now, to try and use you as bait,' he started, I felt a little relief at his words, knowing that I was not part of his plan to catch Tom.

'I've got people looking for him as we speak, and hopefully, they will find something. In the meantime, you are going to stay with your parents, don't tell them what's going on if you feel uncomfortable bringing them into this, but you must stay with them,' he said firmly, his eyes locked onto mine. I nodded quietly. He was right; I needed to get away and go somewhere I felt safe. The fact that I felt safe with Jack didn't mean I should stay with him, me and my panic attacks were enough to drag the strongest man down. And Jack needed to rest.

'I'm so sorry about all this,' I said, tears welling up in my eyes. 'You don't have to be part of any of this, you could be dating any other woman and not deal with any of this drama,' I said sadly, Jack gave a slight laugh.

'In my experience, not that it is vast when it comes to women, but the many people I have met through my work, I have come to learn that everyone has drama in their life. A lot of it is hair-curling. This is more common than you might think,' I gave Jack a look of disbelief at his well-placed lie.

'Oh, and I'm sure you've heard about loads of girls who are stalked by a guy who then tries to kidnap them,' I said dryly. Jack raised his eyebrows at me.

'Are you kidding? Possessive, controlling boyfriend who can't let go when the girl wants nothing to do with him? Oldest story in the book!' he said trying to sound light. We both averted our eyes, sighing heavily.

'What would we be doing now, if Tom didn't even exist?' I asked, hoping to coax some happy thoughts out of Jack. He smiled to himself and looked at me again. 'You know that date I planned, that was ruined by your ignorant headmistress and psychotic boyfriend?' he asked, I shook my head with a frown.

'He was never my boyfriend,' I said hotly. Jack gave me an incredulous look.

'You came back with a ring on your finger, and what was that all about anyway? That seriously messed with my head,' he said, suddenly serious now, his hurt and confusion showing in his eyes. I bit my lip and shrugged my shoulders.

'Tom is very sweet when he wants to be,' I began in a timid voice. 'And I was scared and confused, he didn't give me any information that could be of use, at least, I figured they were more lies anyway, he rambled on about his mother for a while, trying to justify his actions in the past weeks, he wanted me to be a stay at home mother to our six children,'

'And you didn't want to run away screaming for your freedom at that point?' Jack butted in a look of genuine surprise.

'No! I mean, yes! Well, I don't know!' I said, confused.

'I was angry that he wanted to control me like that, the fact that he didn't take my feelings into consideration was hurtful, and at that time I just thought he was mad, his logic was skewed by his incomprehensible perception,' I explained, impressed by my own words.

'I honestly thought I could pose as his fiancé and he would be able to open up to me, showing me something that I could use for my advantage,' I said, thinking aloud.

'Then why did you change your mind?' Jack asked, 'I mean, it's wasn't a bad plan,' he reasoned.

'I spoke to my mum,' I offered in a small voice with a shy smile. Jack nodded.

'I bet she went mental,' he said, amused. I laughed in response.

'My mother doesn't go mental,' I countered humorously. 'But she did tell me to call it off and stay away from the guy, little did I know that he was standing on my driveway the whole time I was speaking to her on the phone,' I said, a sickness coming over me as I thought about it.

'Well, I guess that makes sense now, I just thought things were going well between us,' Jack started, his eyes avoiding mine.

'I mean, I feel this... I don't know; I just feel like you feel it too... and I just can't help it; I want to be there for you, I want to kiss you and hold you and-' Jack reeled off and stopped short with colour rising in his cheeks as he smiled. He looked back at me; I was grinning at him, soaking in his words.

A silence fell over us like a warm blanket and the room became very still. The stress of the events leading up to that point, and the intensity of my emotions towards Jack overwhelmed me. I caressed his face, starting at his forehead which jutted out over his eyes and down his temples and soft cheeks. My fingers hovered over his lips, and I stared at them, licking mine instinctively. Then, Jack lurched forward and captured my lips in a passionate kiss. It was explosive with emotion as he fiercely moved his lips over mine. I grabbed his back, holding him close to me as we kissed and feeling bolts of energy charging through my veins. I moaned into the kiss, and he grunted as he rubbed his hands up and down my back, holding the back of my head gently. Cascades of passion flowed down my body and rose again to my head. I felt dizzy and out of breath as we parted. He looked at me, his face flushed and eyes bright, smiling. I smiled shyly at him, my face burning.

'I love you,' Jack said, taking my hands in his. My heart started doing leaps in my chest, and my whole face was bursting with pleasure and happiness.

'I think I love you more,' I replied honestly. Jack laughed and gave me a gentle kiss on the nose.

'That's not possible,' he said softly. He got to his feet and pulled me up to stand with him. My legs were stiff and felt numb from sitting on the cold bathroom floor.

'I'm going to do this right,' Jack said, his eyes serious now.

'When this is over, and Tom is no longer a worry, I'm going to take you by the hand and never let go, but we need to do this right, you've been through far too much, I want you to feel safe and have commitment from me, before – before we do anything physical,' he said, carefully.

'What do you mean? That kiss was pretty physical,' I said humoured.

'When I saw you with that ring, it made me feel sick,' he said honestly, his face crestfallen as he spoke.

'I know, but you know why I did it,' I started, but he put a finger to my lips and silenced me.

'No, it made me sick, because the ring wasn't from me,' he said. My breath caught in my chest as I listened.

'I don't want to be the guy who strings along the girl for years, and then asks her to marry him but only after they've had their third child together,' he said.

'I want to be the guy who dates the girl properly, romancing her, saving her from danger and then going to her father and asking him to marry her,' he said nervously. I could hardly believe my ears, my cheeks hurt as I beamed at him in response.

'Oh, Jack!' I cried out, throwing myself into his arms, reaching for another kiss, but he held me back, clutching my shoulders and staring me straight.

'We're going to do this in the right order,' he said seriously, 'First, we sort this mess out, all right? Until then, we need to control ourselves,' I stood, staring at him not quite believing what he was saying.

'Oh, ok,' I said hesitantly, unsure if I liked the idea. He sighed, his shoulders dropping heavily as he did so. His face was gaunt and like a sheet of ice.

'You should go to bed, get some sleep. I need to shower and pack my bags anyway,' I said, glancing in the mirror next to me. My hair was messy as it hung below my shoulders and I was still wearing my yoga trousers from the day before. I felt grimy and in desperate need of a good wash. Jack nodded in response.

'Are you sure you'll be ok?' he asked, yawning at me as he did. I nodded brightly.

'Thank you so much,' I said, giving him a loving hug. He tightened his grip on me for a moment and let go as I turned away. Then he walked out of the bathroom, closing the door as he went and left me standing alone, looking at the bewildered woman staring at me in the mirror.

I walked over to the shower and turned on the dials, hot water started pouring out of the shower head, and within seconds the bathroom was full of steam. I undressed myself and stepped under the water and sighed at the feeling. The force of the hot water hitting my body was energising and relaxing all in one. I rubbed shampoo into my hair and imagined I was the female in the hair shampoo adverts I'd seen on TV. I felt irresistible and beautiful; Jack made me feel that way. The way he looked at me, even first thing in the morning when my whole appearance was dishevelled and unhinged. He looked at me like I was a queen. Someone he adored, someone he loved.

I brushed my lips with my fingertips and became giddy with excitement. That kiss was more passionate than the one we shared on College Green. I couldn't imagine it getting any better than that, but somehow, it did. The chemistry we shared was out of this world. We were like two perfect pieces of a puzzle. I suddenly understood all those cliché sayings that you hear from adults when you are growing up. "He's my other half," "I was made for him" and so and so forth. I adored him with every cell in my body, which responded to his voice, his touch and his enticing scent. For the first time since I lost my job, I was feeling ever hopeful for the future, feeling a slight possibility that I had happiness in store for me. The only obstacle in the way was Tom and soon he would be locked up in jail and no cause for concern.

I stepped out of the shower and gasped as the cold air wrapped around my body. I pulled a towel off the towel rail and started rubbing the water off my body. I stared at the bandage on my arm and padded it dry carefully. A slight throb of pain responded to my touch. Then I secured the towel tightly around me and picked up my toothbrush. As I stood there brushing my teeth, I surveyed my blotchy face from the endless crying I had been doing over the past couple of weeks, and the red burst blood vessels around my eyes. I spat into the sink and wiped my mouth on the flannel on the sink basin and walked over to the door. Then I hesitated, making sure my towel was not going to fall. All of my clothes were in my bedroom, and Jack was possibly in my bed.

I tiptoed down the hall and peered into my room to see Jack, sprawled out on top of the bedsheets, deep in a troubled sleep. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he frowned as he breathed heavily into one of the pillows. I smiled a little and watched him for a few moments. Then I realised what I was doing, and headed over to the wardrobe, pulling on whatever clothes I could find.

I took my hairdryer and walked into the lounge with my hair-styling bag and makeup. There was a wall mirror in the lounge by the stairs. I unhooked it from the wall and leaned it next to the TV. Then sat cross-legged on the floor in my jeans and t-shirt and plugged the hairdryer into the socket in the wall.

It didn't take too long to style my hair and cover my face in light make up to make myself look more presentable. Thanks to the powers of foundation and concealer, the dark circles under my eyes were nowhere to be seen, and the blotches had evened out on my face. I needed to look normal if I was going to get away with not telling my parents about last night's events.

I touched the moist bandage on my arm and wondered how I would explain that away to my mother, who never missed a trick. Perhaps I would say that I caught it on a rose bush while I was walking outside... for no apparent reason. Or that I accidentally cut it with a knife as I was chopping vegetables. Neither were very good excuses, especially as it was placed on my forearm. I reasoned that I could tell part of the truth – I was hoovering and left the vacuum cleaner out, then I tripped on the wire and scraped my arm on the TV cabinet as I fell. That seemed like a perfectly plausible story. It would result in a long lecture about safety and 'what did I tell you about leaving electrical appliances plugged in and leaving wires across the floor! That's a death trap, darling!' and then inevitably rant on something else entirely, as once she got through one lecture, another one rolled in afterwards. I inwardly groaned at the thought.

I cooked pasta and looked in the fridge for something to go with it. I was not surprised to find it almost empty, the past two weeks left me too tired and distracted to do any food shopping. There was a tiny cube of parmesan cheese, and I noticed a bottle of lemon juice in the door and some tomato puree, a few rotten vegetables sat in the drawers, and a lonely box of eggs sat on one of the bare shelves. I pulled out the lemon juice, cheese, and puree and closed the fridge. The pasta boiled over the hob as I bent down to retrieve a small saucepan out of the bottom cupboard. With the pasta ready, I drained it and let it sit in the pan on the side while I went about making a tomato sauce. I took out a can of chopped tomatoes, my last one sitting by a can of sardines, and opened it, pouring the contents into the small pan. Then I added a tablespoon of tomato puree and a dash of water. I stirred in a small amount of the lemon juice and sprinkled some herbs into the mix. Then I went back to the food cupboard and found a pot of crushed garlic. I added that to the sauce and turned the heat on medium. I stood there, staring at the sauce, sitting in the pan, a lush, thick red mixture of my creation, and remembered to add a teaspoon of olive oil. Once that was done, I took out the cheese grater and grated the cube of cheese into a small bowl.

I was washing a few dishes when Jack rounded the corned into the lounge, his face with flushed and his dark hair was stuck on end. He smiled as he eyed the sauce simmering on the hob, a mouth-watering scent wafted around the room.

'That looks good,' he remarked walking closer. I held out my hand up to his chest to stop him coming any further.

'There's spare towels in the airing cupboard,' I said sweetly, my eyes looking pointedly at him. He was rather dishevelled and needed a good wash. Jack blinked a few times as if he was trying to work out in his mind what it was that I was saying. Then the penny dropped, and with a light laugh he turned around and headed for the bathroom.

The sauce was ready, so I set it on the side to rest while I finished the dishes and cleaned the worktops. I took the wet sponge, dunked it in the hot soapy water and started washing down the small fold out dining table that sat in the far corner of the lounge. It had been so long since I had company, but it didn't feel like company. It was like Jack, and I were living this alternate reality together, that we always lived together. I wondered if this is what my life would be like if I was living with Jack. I'll be cooking the dinner while he showers after a long day at work, and we'll sit down at the table and eat the delicious meal that I prepared for us, and we discuss our days. I smiled at myself at the thought. I could get used to this.

I set the table and served up the pasta on two deep dishes. Then I poured the sauce over the pasta and sprinkled some parmesan on top. I was impressed with my abilities, considering the serious lack of food I had in my house. I poured two cups of squash and set them down on the table with our meals. Jack appeared in the lounge wearing a towel around his waist. I gawked at him as he entered the room, looking fresh and still wet from the shower. I eyed the drips that ran down his defined torso and blushed.

'You need to put some clothes on!' I cried, feeling hot. Jack laughed at my reaction.

'Can't I eat first? I only have the clothes I wore yesterday!' he said, his eyes glinting as he stared at the two plates of food steaming on the table. I put my hands on my hips and shook my head.

'What is it they say in America?' I asked humorously, 'No shirt, no shoes, no service!'

Jack rolled his eyes and disappeared again down the hall. I took a deep breath and focused on the table, trying not to imagine Jack getting dressed in the other room.

A few moments later and Jack came back into the lounge, wearing his blue shirt and suit trousers. His hair was slightly gelled, and he came in smelling sweet and like coconut.

'Better?' he asked, spreading his arms wide for me to survey him. I nodded with approval.

'Come and sit down, the food is getting cold,' I said, as he sat himself down across from me at the table. He took a gulp of squash and picked up a fork. I tried not to stare at him as he proceeded to shovel in the pasta into his mouth.

'This is amazing,' he said, his mouth full of food. I grinned. Yes, it was amazing, but what amazed me was not the food. It was the fact that Jack was here in my coach house, sleeping in my bed, using my shower and eating my food. It was like grown-up make believe. Here we were playing house like nothing remotely disturbing happened the night before. I ate silently, thinking about how lovely it would be to run away with Jack and forget about all this drama with Tom. Then Jack looked up and said in a serious tone.

'How do you feel about me staying here while you are at your parents?' he asked. His question took me back, and I stopped eating for a moment.

'I don't see a problem with that,' I replied honestly. The thought of Jack living here, in my home, while I was away made me feel better about things. Perhaps if Tom thought we were living together, he would leave us alone. Perhaps that would tell him that I was serious about not being interested in him anymore. Or would that make me off limits -the forbidden fruit- and drive him to persist even more? But could it get any worse than it already was?

'I like that idea, actually,' I said thoughtfully. 'If Tom comes to the house again, he'll see your car, he'll know you're staying here, and that will cause him to draw his own conclusions on that, maybe it will put him off,' I said. Jack frowned with concentration as he considered it.

'I didn't think of it like that,' he said between bites, chewing on the pasta thoughtfully. 'I wonder how he'll react, it would make the situation simpler,' he mused.

'I wouldn't have to go to my parents at all,' I offered, hopefully. Jack gave me a look of disapproval.

'We can't live together yet, not like this,' he said firmly. 'We already talked about that,' he added. I nodded with a light laugh.

'I knew it was a long shot,' I said, laughing. He broke into a smile, that dimple on his cheek adorned is handsome face. A part of me sighed with admiration. How lovely it would be to see him every day, and I would make it my life's mission to keep him smiling, just to see that dimple.

'I was thinking that I could drive you to your parents in your car and leave mine here, then I can get the train back to Bristol and catch the bus here.' He explained his thoughts. It sounded like a plan, at least then I would have a car to get around whilst staying at my parents. I didn't like the idea of having to stay in my parent's house, limited to walking, public transport and being chauffeured around by my dad. We agreed to leave later that day, as soon as I had packed a bag and called ahead to give my parents some notice that I was going to stay with them for a few days...or the foreseeable future, whichever was applicable according to the Tom situation.

Jack washed the dishes while I went into my bedroom and got ready to leave. I pulled out the small luggage bag from underneath my bed and opened it. Then I walked over to the chest of drawers standing by the window. The sun was high in the sky, and the trees were in full bloom. Another beautiful summer's day, I noticed. It would make a nice drive down to Southampton with Jack. I hoped that we could take it nice and slow driving down, what was the rush anyway? Then I realised that it was only Wednesday, he probably had work to do, right? I bit my lip feeling guilty.

I emptied my wardrobe into my bag and slotted in my make-up bag between the clothes. Then I rushed into the bathroom and stuffed a few toiletries into a small wash bag. Once that was done, I looked about the room, wondering what else I might need. I took the bedsheets off the bed and walked into the kitchenette, stuffing the bedding into the washing machine. Jack was sat with his laptop on the couch and typing away, an intense look of concentration on his face as he worked.

'I'm so sorry to take you away from work, we could wait until tonight to drive down,' I offered. Jack looked up from the laptop screen and thought about it.

'That would be helpful actually,' He said, my heart danced with excitement. 'I've got a few urgent tax returns to file, and then a couple of phone calls to make,' he explained. I nodded happily, grateful for a reason to have him stay longer. I walked back into the bedroom and looked around, searching for something that might need tidying away. Everything was in place, but for a couple of discarded socks underneath the bed. I threw them in the laundry bin and hurried into the bathroom to clean it.

Once the bathroom was sparkling clean, I headed into the lounge and took the notepad and pen that was on the table. If Jack was going to live here, he would need supplies, and after driving to my parents and back it would be far too late to go food shopping. I made a list of food supplies and stood up, looking around the room for my handbag. It was sat on the floor by the couch; it's contents spilled out underneath. I got to my knees and reached under the couch, pulling out the pieces of paper and makeup accessories that had fallen out. I scooped everything up and put it in my bag until I noticed a black business card that I did not recognise.

'What's this?' I asked aloud. Jack looked at me, pausing his work as I held up the card. It read:

_Tom Malpass, Managing Director, National Bank_

The other side of the card had a business address and telephone numbers. I gawped at Jack and held the card up.

'Now we know where Tom is working,' I said. I handed him the card, and Jack read it briefly. Then he quickly tapped away on the keyboard.

'Right, he's working in the Town centre, I'll pay him a visit tomorrow, once you're out of harm's way,' he said.

'Is it really worth the aggravation of taking me all the way to Southampton tonight? We know how to track him down, we'll talk to his boss, explain everything and-'

'Audrey, that's not a very good plan,' Jack interrupted. I stopped short and frowned. No, it wasn't a good idea, I thought about what happened last time I tried to tell someone that Tom was a fraud. I lost my job. He probably has managed to convince everyone using dodgy paperwork and a friend on the end of the phone that he is someone entirely different to his real personality.

'We'll keep to the current plan and listen, I don't want you to be worried about this guy, as far as your concerned, he doesn't exist. He's not a problem anymore. I'll make sure of that,' he said in a determined manner. I nodded with a small smile in return. There was another well-placed lie. _Okay, Audrey,_ I said to myself firmly, _easy girl_. _Just do as he says, and everything will be fine._ At least, that was the hope.

I took my keys and bag and headed for the door, 'I'm going to get some shopping,' I mentioned. Jack looked alarmed.

'Alone?' he asked, surprised. 'Are you sure?'

'Yes, of course,' I replied with a shrug. There was a local shop on the corner barely half a mile away. Nothing to be concerned about going shopping at the local corner shop, right? Tom was long gone, probably at his pretend workplace. Or maybe not, I thought, as I remembered the nasty punch Jack had landed on his jaw.

'I'll have my phone on me,' I added reassuringly. Jack looked like he was not convinced but nodded. I left the house and started walking down the street. There was no point in driving, I figured.

I passed a row of little one-bedroom apartments all sat together uniformly. A line of foliage ran along the side of the road, and their leaves were a lush green which dazzled in the sunlight. There was a pedestrian footpath in between two housing estates which posed as a helpful shortcut to the shop. As I turned into the alley a strange, unwelcome feeling filled my chest. A sense of foreboding filled my head as I walked forward. I pushed the dramatics out of my mind and continued moving forward. Then I heard footsteps behind me; they were moving quickly, heading right in my direction. I whipped around, and before I knew what was happening I was staring at Tom, with his hand clasped over my mouth and his thin finger up against his lips telling me to be quiet. His jaw was swollen and heavily bruised which made his mouth look lopsided and awkward. His grey eyes gleamed at me as he dragged me backward.

I let my body go limp and dug into the phone in my pocket. I had one chance at this – I watched Tom looking around at the houses to see if there was anyone watching. It was at that moment that I found jack's number and called it. I looked at the phone and saw the timer start running, showing that the call had connected.

'Tom, where are you taking me? Please don't do this, please just talk to me, we can talk,' I said as loudly as I could without shouting, praying that Jack could hear my voice.

'We're going somewhere I think you'll like, a nice little piece of history where you can view the world near our favourite coffee shop,' he said still pulling me along. What he said didn't make any sense to me, but I hoped it did to Jack. We came out to a black Audi and Tom opened the boot. 'Get in,' he said coldly. I stared at him with horror.

'No!' I said, shocked and defiant. There was no way I could climb into that boot and stay alive unless I could keep my phone and then call Jack again. Tom seemed to read my thoughts because he took my handbag and grabbed my phone from my hand. He glanced down at Jack's name across the screen, and his eyes glinted with delight.

He put the phone in his suit jacket; I caught a glimpse of something shiny inside his pocket, the sight made me uncomfortable and uneasy. Why did this feel like a setup? Why did this feel like Tom wanted me to call Jack?

Tom picked me up, kicking and screaming at him; he stuffed me into the back of the car and closed the boot. It was impossibly dark, and I became consumed with panic at the enclosed space I was in. I listened as a door slammed shut near the driver's side and the car started. I bit my lip and bullied myself not to cry. No, not this time. I needed to be brave and not give Tom the satisfaction that he had any sort of power over me. I would not cry.

## 10

# Chapter Ten

The Final Show Down

* * *

The car swung round the corners of the estate at a high speed which sent me sliding side to side in the boot, hitting my head every time he turned left.

I wondered where we would be going; clearly it was somewhere in Bristol as he said it was near the coffee shop we used to go to in the morning, back when he was lovely Reverend Pembleton, and I was a naïve teaching assistant at Clifton high. Oh, how our lives had changed recently. I tried not to think about it, because somewhere in my heart was hurting for the loss of my sweet religious studies teacher. I thought about Clifton High, with its victorian buildings and creaky staircases. The rooms had tall ceilings and traditional wallpaper on the walls. Their windows were in small panes connected by black crosses. It was like walking in old, comfy shoes being in that school. Scores of years had passed, students and teachers had come and gone, all moulding the spirit of the school and creating this homelike feeling. I adored that place. I would go up to the sixth form room when it was quiet and climb into the attic and sit in a small circular window that overlooked the courtyard below.

I thought about the girls who would debate with one another over the bureaucracy of school life, about how best to cheat in a mathematics test and which teacher they thought was the funniest, or the most intelligent. Private school girls often had the best selection of topics to discuss, not limited to boys and shoes. No, it was much more than that. They were interested in the news and events of the world; they were driven to succeed and change the world for better. They could achieve anything they wanted to, the whole of their future ahead of them.

And my future lay at whatever happens when Tom stops this car and opens up the boot. I swallowed hard and bit my lip to stop me from crying. It was wholly uncomfortable squished in the back of the Audi saloon. I had seen people in the back of cars in movies, and there always seemed to be enough room for the actress and the camera to be in there too. In this instance, I could barely move, let alone act in front of a camera — and where would it go? The whole idea was absurd.

The car stopped eventually, and I heard footsteps walking around to where I was. I waited with bated breath for the sharp sunlight to pour into my tired eyes when Tom opened the boot. A clicking sound came from the lock and the boot door opened up. I blinked up awkwardly, peering through the sunlight and saw Tom, staring down at me. He then looked around; I saw tall trees in the distance and birds flying free in the perfectly blue summer sky.

'Get out,' Tom ordered. I shuffled forward and worked my way out of the boot. It was far more difficult than it looked on TV and I had to rest my hands-on Tom's shoulders as I got out. He tried to smile at my touch but winced with pain in his jaw; I inwardly praised Jack for what he had done to Tom. As I got out, I looked around. We were standing in a vast green park, with tall oak trees and a little path running in a zigzag fashion up the hill. There were neat benches sat on the side of the path and people walking up and down with their dogs. I was baffled. Why did Tom take me here? I vaguely remembered passing this place as I walked down Park Street towards the coffee shop. I looked at Tom, puzzled. What exactly was his game? I wondered to myself. He pointed upward. I looked in the direction he was pointing to, and a sudden realisation dawned on me.

'Oh,' I said, understanding now. My heart sank. Tom linked his arm with mine and muttered to me in a dark voice,

'Dare to run away, and I'll kill your boyfriend,' I stared forward, my eyes wet and wide with fear. I nodded quickly in reply. This man was not to be messed with. He was also not to be underestimated.

We walked slowly up the path, probably looking like a couple in love, having a romantic stroll in the park, admiring the countryside to anyone looking at us. It was the perfect way to do what he was planning to do to me. No one would suspect anything. If there were witness accounts, they would remark how sweet and gentle he was to me. That my death was a tragic accident. It was perfect for Tom, a clean cut, no drama, foolproof way to kill me.

As we walked up the hill, we approached Cabot Tower that stood proudly at the top, overlooking the park. I remembered being told about the tower when I first moved to Bristol at the start of my degree. It was erected in memory of a seaman who set off sail from Bristol and landed in what became Canada. It comprised of a spiral staircase, with two viewing points. The ornate structure was romantic, to say the least.

Each step I took closer to the tower, the more I felt my feet filled with lead. I was walking to my doom, in this beautiful sunlight surrounded by happy people, going about their day. They had no idea that they would be subject to a gruesome murder, made out to be a suicide or accident, whatever scenario Tom wanted to play out.

We reached the door at the foot of the tower. It was made of wood, and the tower bricks were of sandstone. I stopped and looked at Tom to see what he was going to do. He rubbed his jaw gingerly and pointed at me to go on ahead.

'I'll make sure you don't fall, dear,' he muttered quietly. It appeared to hurt him to speak. I stepped inside; the steps were badly worn down from being trodden on day in, day out since the time it was built. I took a step at a time, in no rush to get to the top. I ran my fingertips along the bricks, feeling my way forward and listening to the echoes of children talking animatedly to each other at the top.

We reached the first viewing point; I stepped out onto the stone balcony and looked down. It was a beautiful sight. The lush green grass and trees wavy in the breeze. The brick buildings scattered around the park were rich red and brown. Nothing about the scene was not pleasant, except the situation of course.

I turned back to see Tom pointing at the door leading to another staircase, which led to the highest viewpoint. I took a deep breath and one last glance at the lovely park below and continued ahead.

It was the oddest feeling in the world. I was actually resigned to my fate; I knew what was to come and was certain that Jack had no idea where I was. Tom's hints were too vague for sure. I climbed the staircase wondering how my parents would find out that their daughter had died. Would they even know it was Tom? Would my mother think that I went against her advice and expected to have a romantic kiss on the top of the tower with my beloved? Would my father die from grief at his little girl, gone from this world? Or would he be sent to jail for tracking down and murdering Tom? Even if he didn't believe that Tom had pushed me, he would hold him personally responsible.

The dark staircase grew light far too quickly for my comfort. My arms trembled anxiously, my body giving away to my nerves. No matter how brave a person is, the body does not want to die. If the body is aware that you are in danger or about to do something stupid, it gives you away and forces you to do whatever it takes to stay alive. I reached the door, and it took all my energy to push it open and walk through. The wind was cooler up here. I peered over the edge from the doorway and gasped. We were at least 30 meters high, and the lines of brick houses looked small from this view. Tom pushed his hand against the small of my back, pushing me forward. I looked around as I edged forward. There was a dial along the edge of the viewpoint with the names of countries ahead. New York was off to the left, and Canada close to it. The brick wall around the tower was low enough to climb over but too high to fall. Tom's plan was flawed. He couldn't make this look like an accident. So, then he'll play the 'she wanted to kill herself' card. My heart wept at that. My parents would believe that I had committed suicide.

I turned to face Tom; my eyes narrowed at him, angry. I wasn't going down without a fight. No matter what he said, I could still stand my ground. 'What is all this for?' I asked, shaking my head and raising my arms up, exasperated. Tom rubbed his jaw painfully.

'I thought you would appreciate the setting,' he replied simply. 'All those books you would talk about written by the Bronte sisters, well this is your perfect thing,'

'Oh, that's a thoughtful way to kill someone, give them a kind death, is that it? Why are you doing this? There are so many people out there who would make you happy, why is it that you just can't bare to see with someone else?' I snapped. We had the top to ourselves; no one else had come up so high yet. I thought that if I kept him talking, then people would come up and he couldn't kill me in the presence of onlookers.

'I love you,' Tom said, 'why would I want to kill you?' he asked, his eyebrows raised. 'My darling Dee, I forgive you, I understand why you've been acting this way. And it's okay. We will work through this,' he said softly. I took a step away from him, shocked to the core.

'What are you talking about?' I asked incredulously. Tom smiled faintly.

'When did you start acting strangely towards me? I've been thinking about it, and it correlates with when you met Jack, on the afternoon that we had food with your parents. You became infatuated with that pompous idiot, and you don't even realise that he's making all the decisions for you. Haven't you noticed that he does everything for you? He drives, he tells you what the plan is, he calls all the shots; do you really want that? Why did it upset you so much when I wanted to tell you how I feel and yet follow whatever orders or manipulation that guy puts on you?' He asked passionately.

I stayed silent, baffled by his words. Jack did not manipulate me and yes, he did usually take the lead, but I loved that about him. It made him masculine, and I trusted him. Yes, my actions towards Tom changed when I met Jack at my parents, but that was merely a coincidence. What Tom didn't know what that I met Jack the same day that I had first met him. He didn't know that I had regretted the decision to go on a date with him that same evening and as soon as he kissed me, I knew that we were not going to be a couple. It felt wrong, and that had absolutely nothing to do with Jack. Once again, Tom was deluded in his own fantasy world. He was wrong on so many levels it was almost laughable.

'So, you brought me up here to persuade me to leave him and be with you?' I asked, trying to piece together his haphazard thinking. Tom shook his head, staring at something below.

'No Dee. It's too late for us; I do see that now. But I feel it is important for you to understand that I forgive you and that I'm not a bad person,' he said honestly. He stepped aside from the door and suddenly grabbed me by the shoulders and pointed something to my neck. The shiny object that was in his pocket was a hand knife. Where he got hold of such a large, brutal looking army knife had me baffled, but I didn't care. My mind was dizzy, not understanding why he had just told me that he forgave me and loved me and didn't want to kill me. Then I saw Jack come pounding through the door and standing in front of me, a horrified expression on his face.

'I was beginning to worry that you wouldn't join us,' Tom said pleasantly; the blade was cold against my throat, and I hardly dared to swallow against it for fear of it piercing my skin. My eyes started to well up as I looked at Jack, feeling hopeless.

'Let her go,' Jack sneered to Tom, staring at him with a look of focussed anger.

'Oh, I will, she's not what I want anymore,' he said darkly, but continued holding me firmly, showing no indication that he was going to let me go.

'I can't have her; I know that now. But I can't go on without her, and I'm sorry, but I certainly cannot let you go on and defile her virtue; Dee is a flower, a pure, beautiful and rare flower which I must keep from vermin like you,' he spat.

Jack shook his head. 'You're insane,' he muttered, taking a slow step forward. Tom hesitated.

'No, I'm not,' he retorted, 'I'm not insane,' now sounding childish. He started to cry furious tears.

'Do you know, how many people in my life have told me that I'm insane? I wanted to be a policeman; they told me I was insane. I wanted to go into screen writing; they told me I was mad. I decided to cycle across Europe; they announced that I lost my mind. Well, I was a policeman. I've published a few plays, and I cycled across Europe to celebrate my 23 birthday. I've been a teacher, a reverend, a doctor, a manager – I've had more careers than I can count. And what have I got to show for it? Do I get the respect that I deserve? No, I get told I'm insane!' He ranted to himself, his tears fell onto my temples and soaked into my skin, burning like acid. Jack stood still, braced to catch me if Tom let me go, but careful not to provoke a reaction in Tom.

'Dee met me and showed me something I hadn't seen before; kindness. She made me feel special and worth something. She showed me love, and I wanted more of it. She possessed an innocence that most people grow out of. Yet you come along and ruin it; she becomes moody and cynical and suspicious of my intentions. She turns into everyone else, an ignorant bully who thinks I'm mad,' he was practically sobbing now.

'Tom, please let go of Audrey, and talk to us,' Jack asked carefully. He reached out for me; I longed to hold his hand and fall into the safety of his embrace. Tom started to tremble, his grip on the knife was loosening, a perfect time for me to take it. I looked pointedly at Jack who was edging towards me, but Tom suddenly regained composure and turned cold and angry.

'If I let go, you'll go off and have a happy life together. Well, where's my happy ending? Why is it, that whatever I do, and whoever I am, it is never good enough?' Jack and I glanced at each other.

Tom was having a breakdown. He started struggling to breathe and was wracked in guilt and sorrow. He dropped the knife to the floor, and I collapsed onto Jack who held me tightly. Tom crouched on the floor and held his head in his hands, rocking back and forward in visible pain.

'No, no, no,' he moaned to himself. Jack squatted down to pick up the knife, but Tom grabbed it quickly, and in one fast motion, he lunged it deep into Jack's stomach. A blood-curdling scream escaped my lips as I stared in horror as Jack fell to his knees, his face drained of colour and expressionless. Tom dragged the bloody knife out of Jack's body and turned to me.

'I _was_ going to kill you,' he said in an evil tone, 'I was going to push you off the edge of the tower and then stab myself with this knife, framing Jack for both our murders. We would be together my dear, in the afterlife. And Jack would be where he belongs, locked up in a cell for the rest of his life.'

Jack started coughing up blood and held his stomach tightly, his eyes wide with shock. I wanted to run over to him and hold him in my arms, but Tom held out the knife in my direction, his hand trembling.

'But then he went for the knife, and I realised something,' he said, in a horribly calm voice. 'I wanted to live,'. He got to his feet and dropped the knife on the floor. It bounced a few feet behind him on the floor. It lay there, glistening in the sunlight, Jack's blood adorning the blade. Tears were flowing from my eyes as I hyperventilated, looking over to Jack, who began to slump onto the ground. I ran toward Tom, hurt and anger boiled in my veins, ready to kill, if I must. He backed away several steps and stumbled awkwardly as he stood on the blade on the floor. His weight shifted backwards, and he lunged back over the low brick wall. I gasped as I watched all 6ft 7 of him tumble over the edge and heard a piercing scream fill the sky. Shrieks and cries from below were silenced by a thud. And then there was a moment's silence. I turned to Jack, who was bleeding all over the floor and barely conscious.

'Please someone help me!' I screamed with desperation. I dug into Jack's pocket and found his mobile phone and dialled for the emergency services. Jack held my hand and looked at me sadly.

'I love you, Audrey,' he said weakly. I pulled his hand up to my mouth and kissed it. His hands were growing cold despite the hot sun shining down on us. I knew he was fading fast and I begged the woman on the end of the phone to get an ambulance there quickly.

## 11

# Chapter Eleven

Fight The Good Fight

* * *

It took less than three minutes before the paramedics arrived at the scene. Tom's body was taken away, he was declared dead at the scene. Jack was rushed away in the ambulance, all but dead I was sure. I was allowed to sit next to him, he was unconscious and a paramedic was assisting his breathing with a ventilator. Another paramedic sat next to me, writing down some notes on a clipboard.

'What is his name?' he asked formally.

'Jack Roberts,' I replied shakily, still holding Jack's cold hand. 'Please, how bad is it? Can you fix him? We won't lose him, will we? I can't – I can't lose him. Not now, not after everything we've already been through,' I blurted out, shaking all over with shock and grief.

The paramedic wouldn't respond but asked more questions instead. _Was he allergic to any medication? Did he have diabetes? What was his blood type?_ None of them I knew the answer to.

'I thought you were his girlfriend?' the paramedic remarked. I frowned, realising there was so little that I knew about Jack. The ambulance came to a halt, and several paramedics opened the doors and wheeled Jack out. They were dashing him towards the hospital and went through the doors. I hurried to catch up, but a nurse stopped me as he and the team disappeared down the hall.

'Someone will come out and give you an update when they can,' she said kindly as I watched the doors swing closed again. My heart felt empty and cold.

I sat on a chair in the waiting room which was full of people who looked worried and tired. Then my surroundings became blurred, and all I could do was stare at the shiny floor of the hospital and focus on my breathing.

It felt like hours had passed and still, I didn't move. A nurse came out to me at long last, I looked up at her, trying to read the look on her face. Was he gone, or was there still hope?

'I'm afraid to say, it isn't good news,' she began. I held my breath. 'Jack's suffering from a severe amount of internal bleeding, and he's lost a lot of blood. We've done all we can, he's critical but stable, and now the rest is up to him.' she explained.

'He's alive?' I asked, hopeful. The nurse nodded. 'But he's not out of the woods, yet,' she said, 'he's receiving a blood transfusion as we speak and after that, we will see how he responds,' she added. I nodded slowly and sat back down in my seat, feeling dazed.

I needed to call his family. I pulled his phone out of my pocket and scrolled through the contacts. None of his brothers were listed by name, but I noticed three odd contacts - "Geez, Gimp" and "Gimp Junior," which I figured had to be nicknames for them. I dialled "Geez," and heard Josh's voice on the other end.

'Hey, you all right?' He said gruffly. I cleared my throat and willed my voice to work properly.

'Josh, it's Audrey,' I said in a pained voice. 'Oh Hi, what's going on? You sound like something's wrong? Is that psycho still troubling you? Where's Jack?' his voice reeled, now concerned.

'Listen, it's a long story,' I began quickly, finding confidence in my voice again. Josh's rambling halted, and I could hear him wheezing on the other side of the phone.

'You might want to come down here, Jack's been stabbed, and it's really bad,' I started to explain. Josh's silence erupted into outrageous ranting.

'He's been stabbed? It was him, wasn't it? Where is he? I'll get the lads; we're going to hunt him down and make him pay for this, he thinks he's invincible, well let's see how untouchable he is when I-'

'Josh, Tom is dead,' I said blankly. Josh fell silent again, his anger dissipated for a moment, then his focus fell back onto Jack. 'Where are you? Where have they sent Jack?' He said, seriously.

'He's been taken to the BRI, he's still in the emergency department having treatment, but I think he'll be transferred soon. He's had surgery I think, they mentioned having to control internal bleeding, and they're giving him a blood transfusion now. They say that I can see him soon... I just thought you needed to know,' I rambled, my hands shaking as I held the phone to my ear.

'The BRI? That's up the hill just out of town, right?' He said quickly. I confirmed. It was a well-known hospital in Bristol with fairly new refurbishments.

'Right,' he said, satisfied. 'I'll call the others and get them to come over. Keep in touch, all right?' He said, his voice breaking slightly as he spoke. The nurse was walking up to me as he talked, I eyed her nervously as I said good bye and hung up.

'Can I see him now? How is he?' I asked hurriedly. She nodded, with a small smile.

'He's looking a lot better after the transfusion. He's being taken to a ward soon, but I can take you to him now,' she offered as she turned and bid me to follow.

'So, he's not going to intensive care?' I asked, hopeful.

'No, he's stabilised for now,' she answered. Tears welled up in my eyes with relief.

'He's not going to die?' I asked, almost sobbing.

'I'm just a nurse, you should really wait for the consultant to come around. From what I can see he'll need a good long rest and a lot of painkillers, but things are hopeful, the consultant will be around soon,' she said smiling.

'Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!' I wailed, tears falling freely now. We passed through a set of double doors and made our way down the long corridor, as we rounded the corner at the end the beeping of several monitors greeted me. Blue, sterile curtains sectioned off a row of beds filled with various patients. I peered in through the gaps searching for Jack's familiar shape. The nurse led me along a few beds and parted a curtain to let me into the cubicle.

I walked in and looked at the man laying on the bed. He was hooked up to an IV drip and had a bandage around his hand with a cannula sticking out. I rushed over to the head of the bed and stared down at Jack's face. He was groggy and blinked up at me in a drugged-like state. A moment of confusion passed his face, and then broke into a knowing smile.

'Hey, beautiful,' he murmured weakly. I kissed his forehead, letting tears fall onto his face. I squeezed his free hand and stood there in silence, soaking up the moment.

'I thought you were dead... Oh, Jack, I thought you left me!' I cried, verging on hysterical.

'You can't get rid of me that easily,' he said, with a slight laugh. He grimaced and held his stomach in pain as he moved.

'You were stabbed,' I said, stating the obvious. Jack raised an eyebrow at me.

'That explained the throbbing pain then,' he replied.

'I called your brothers, I imagine that they will be here soon,' I said softly. Jack made to sit up but winced and moved back down on the bed again.

'I guess I'll not be doing crunches any time soon,' he said, trying to be humorous.

'Do you want me to call your parents?' I asked hesitantly. I didn't know where Jack's parents were; he never mentioned them to me before. He shook his head.

'I'll call them when I'm out of here,' he replied with a small smile, he stared at me intently, reading my face.

'You look terrible,' he remarked, his eyes concerned. I laughed in reply; I wasn't the one who had been stabbed in the gut and put through surgery and all sorts, fighting for my life! I wasn't the one lying in bed in hospital, looking like I'm at death's door! And yet, Jack was saying I look terrible? Well, that was unexpected. Jack padded his legs and tossed his head back and forth looking for something.

'Do you know where my phone is?' he asked. 'You said, my brothers were coming? I need to call and tell them to bring me a takeaway,' he said seriously. I had to laugh.

'Here,' I said, still smiling as I pulled the black phone out of my pocket and handed it to him. I then realised that my phone must have been in Tom's pocket when he... I shut my eyes at the memory of him tumbling over the edge and falling to his death.

Jack was tapping on his phone and held it up to his ear.

'Mate it's me,' he said, his voice now low and even. He was trying to act cool like everything was fine. But the transparency of his skin and the waxy look around his eyes told me otherwise.'So, are you coming to see me, or what?' he said. I could hear the mumbling from earpiece.

'Yeah, yeah it's all good. I'm fine,' he reassured whoever it was on the other end of the phone. 'Listen, I'm starving, and you know what hospital food is like, grab me a pizza and bring it here will you?' he asked, in a casual slur. 'Great, see you soon,' he muttered and hung up. Then he looked up at me, lying flat on his back.

'Audrey, could you lift me up? I hate lying down like this; I can hardly see you,' he said. I fiddled with the electric remote that controlled the bed and got him into a seating position. His eyes rested on mine, and he motioned for me to sit with him.

'That's better,' he said, holding my hands as I sat by his side. _He is so brave_ , I thought to myself, after all that he had been through, _he is comforting me_!

'How are you dealing with all this?' he asked carefully. 'Is Tom?' I nodded sombrely before he could finish. His eyes looked down, and he became quiet, full of thought. I swallowed nervously and wondered whether to voice my concerns. Now that Jack was out of the danger zone, the next question was whether or not I had a future. Though I did not actually touch Tom or actively push him off the edge of Cabot Tower, I did try to run up to him and hurt him. Who knows what I would have done, had I managed to reach him? Maybe I would have pushed him over the edge?

Regardless of that, Tom was dead. And I was certain that there would now be a murder case involved and the police will want to know what happened. Would I be accused of murder? Would they believe me if I explained the whole story? The identity fraud, his stalking and when he kidnapped me and told me he was going to kill me? Do any of those things justify murder though? Will they believe my story; that it really was an accident, that he tripped over and fell? Is that too far-fetched to believe? I couldn't see how anyone would be able to take that story as truth. Jack was reading my face; he seemed to be following my thoughts.

'Don't worry,' he said softly, clutching my hand in his. 'We'll get this all sorted out and then...' he trailed off and looked away, with a small hopeful smile on his face. There was sudden movement outside the curtain, and a nurse appeared at the foot of the bed. 'Sorry to disturb you Jack, but I have a couple of police officers who would like to speak to you, are you feeling able to give a statement?' she asked sheepishly. 'I can send them away if not,' she added hastily. Jack glanced at me before he nodded to the nurse and she disappeared again. A few nervous moments passed, and two male police officers walked through the curtains. They were tall and burly, with an air of authority about them.

'Jack Roberts? Can we speak to you, in private?' He asked, glancing over to me carefully. Jack looked at me and nodded.

'Oh, I'll wait outside,' I offered quickly. I walked out of the curtains and walked on autopilot to back down the corridor to the waiting room. There I found Jack's brothers talking to the lady at the reception desk. They turned their heads and looked at me with anticipation as I approached them.

'How is he?' Joe asked, anxious. I nodded, closing my eyes briefly against the pain in my head. My head felt like a heavy weight on my shoulders and difficult to keep held high. It had been a long day, it felt like a long day made up of many long days. And my body ached and begged for the comfort of my bed.

'He's expected to make a full recovery. The police are talking to him now; then we can go back in and see him. They're supposed to be moving him to a ward soon too,' I explained. Then I noticed a pizza box in Josh's hands, and he nodded at his two brothers. James scratched his head.

'I don't understand what happened,' I began. 'Jack wanted to drive me to my parents house and stay there while he worked out how to find Tom and gather enough evidence to take to the police and get him arrested — or at least, off of our backs all the time-' I started as we all walked to the chairs and each took a seat. Joe sat closest to me and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs and clasping his hands.

'I went out to get some food from the corner shop by my house, but on the way, Tom grabbed me and stuffed me into the boot of his car,' James, Joe, and Josh groaned and shook their heads.

'No way, that's crazy,' they stated, at once. I smiled to myself, as I noted how similar their mannerisms were to Jack's. These really were his brothers.

'I called Jack, and he overheard my conversation with Tom about him kidnapping me and taking me to Cabot Tower,'

'What was he going to do with you at Cabot Tower?' James asked, confused.

'That's a bit strange,' Josh stated, his eyebrows furrowed deeply as he stared at the floor in thought.

'He told me. He meant for me to call Jack and for him to follow us. He was going to kill me when Jack arrived, then commit suicide with Jack framed for murder,' I explained.

'So, what? Jack came to rescue and got into a big showdown where they fought each other, and he got stabbed?' Joe asked, half-joking. James gave him a hard look of disapproval. 'It's not funny,' he said darkly.

'He did come, just as Tom and I were standing out on the top viewing point. He wanted me to walk over to the edge, and then Jack came running in. The rest is a bit of a blur, but Tom managed to stab Jack, and he dropped the dagger on the floor. I ran at him, but he stumbled backwards and tripped on the dagger, and then he fell over the edge.'

'Splat,' Josh said, grimly. I cringed at his words and shook my head.

'No, it wasn't quite that bad. But he was definitely dead,' I said.

The police officers came back and approached me. Butterflies flew around in my stomach, and I stared at them, nervously waiting for them to ask me for my statement or arrest me.

'Can we have a quick word?' One of them asked. I nodded and followed them down the hall to a quiet place.

'We understand that you witnessed the stabbing today?' they asked. I nodded, trembling at the core.

'I know it's upsetting, but we just need to know what you saw,' they explained. I swallowed quickly.

'I saw a man take a knife out of his jacket and stab Jack in the stomach,' I said blankly, hot tears stinging my eyes. The police officers looked at each other and nodded. 'That will do,' the one standing closet to me, said.

'Don't you want to know about the man who stabbed him? I mean, he fell off the tower afterwards!' I blurted out, surprised.

'Well, Mr Roberts explained all about our friend Tom,' the police officer said with a meaningful wink.

'We've had a search on our records, and he's on our list of con-artists that are known to us. He's had a warrant for arrest for a long time now.'

'So... will there be a trial?'

'No, it sounds to us like this should be treated as a suicide,' and with that the officers tapped their hats to me and walked off down the hall. I stared after them, my jaw hanging in shock. The room suddenly grew lighter, and I felt an immense weight lifting from my shoulders. I looked around to the waiting room and noticed that Jack's brothers were gone. I bit my lip, repressing the grin that was threatening to take over my face.

It was over. The nightmare was over. No more harassment. No more lies and fear, and no more worries. I hurried down the hall back to Jack's cubicle and hurried through the curtains my face brimming with happiness and total relief. The three stocky brothers were crowded around the bed, talking. They turned when I walked through, eyeing my face with curiosity.

'What did the police say?' Jack asked, with a slice of pepperoni pizza in his hand.

'They're treating Tom's death as a suicide, and they knew about him already — so they won't be investigating the situation any further,' I burst out. A grin spread across his face, and he raised his hands in the air. The brothers gave low cheers and patted Jack on the shoulders.

'That's the best news I've heard for a long time,' he said brightly. I nodded, my eyes wide and staring at Jack. I hardly dared to blink, in case it was all a dream and I woke up again in the nightmare.

* * *

_TWO WEEKS LATER_

* * *

The police were able to track down Tom's previous place of work, which turned out to be Clifton High. The bank branch that he was the 'managing director' of had never heard of Tom and had no idea of his existence. Let alone, hired him. Mrs Callingham went through a very awkward meeting with the police who informed her that Tom was not a reverend and he had not died when she thought he had. However, now he really was dead. For real. She called me within minutes of the meeting and apologised for not believing my accusations and offered me my old job back.

'I would love to come back to work at Clifton High,' I blubbered down the phone, feeling thrilled.

'But, could you consider me when a full-time teaching role comes up?' I asked, hesitantly, not wishing to push my luck.

'Well, funny you should say that because we still need a religious studies teacher. Reverend Hale has decided to take an early retirement, to relieve some of the stress in his life,' she said.

'But I thought you only hire a reverend to teach that class?' I asked. Mrs Callingham laughed.

'And look where that got us? No, I think with your good nature and honesty, and the relationship you have with the girls, you will suit the role perfectly.' Mrs Callingham continued.

'Let's have a trial period and see how you get on, and we'll go from there, shall we?' she offered. I excitedly agreed and hung up the phone buzzing. I turned to Jack, who was standing with me when I took the call.

'I'm a teacher now,' I said, breathless. Jack put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed them tight.

'Well, look at you,' he remarked, smiling. That cheeky dimple stared at me as he smiled. We were walking up Park Street and took a turn suddenly off course. I looked around, recognising the streets immediately.

'Why are we going this way?' I asked, frowning.

Jack winked at me and tapped his nose as we walked onwards. The path ran around to the right, and up at the hill, we saw Cabot Tower.

'What are we doing here?' I asked, my heart pounding with anxiety. This was not where I wanted to be.

'Do you trust me?' Jack asked softly. I nodded, and we walked all the way past the little benches and across the zig-zag pathway to the tower. Jack was practically galloping upwards, in a hurry. I ran to keep up with him, his arm still around my shoulders.

He climbed the steps first and held my hand as I followed up behind. We got to the first viewing point, and he pulled me out to look over the park. I tried not to look down at the ground below. The park had been cleaned, and there was nothing to give away that a man had fallen to his death. But the park was unusually quiet, as word had got around about the events of Tom's death.

I looked at Jack who took my hands and brought them to his swollen lips and kissed them softly. 'Audrey, I know we haven't known each other very long, and you might as well call me crazy, but I am crazy. I'm crazy in love with you, and I cannot bare to spend another second without you. I want to be there for you when you need someone to cry on; I want to be the one to hold your hair back while you're sick with morning sickness, whilst carrying our baby. I want to be the one to take you out dancing every Friday night, and I want to be there for you until the very end. When we're both old and grey and too weak to dance anymore,'

He lowered himself down onto one knee and pulled out a small box from his suit pocket. He flipped open the box, and a shiny silver engagement ring sat inside, adorned by three large diamonds. My fingers fled to my heaving collarbone as I gasped at the sight. I could see my reflection in Jack's clear crystal blue eyes as he smiled up at me and asked the question all women long to hear.

'Will you marry me?'

I nodded furiously with a grin so large it made my cheeks hurt. He stood up and pushed the ring onto my finger, and I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him with all the passion and love in my entire being. He was all mine, and I was his. Our worlds entwined in one and never again to be divided. I thought that happy endings only happened in movies. I thought that in real life, it's just hard work and heart-ache. Yet, somehow, we beat the odds. I knew we'd truly live happily ever after.

And we have.

# Epilogue

'So, my darling, Sophie,' the mother said softly as she tucked a golden strand of hair behind her daughter's ear. 'Happy endings do exist'. Sophie, the young bride, had tears in her eyes. She was touched and overwhelmed at her mother's words.

'I can't believe all you went through to be with dad,' she said breathlessly, her wide eyes blinking fast. The mother nodded as she smiled back. Suddenly the door opened and in came a short, middle-aged man with a dark receding hairline. He looked at the two women sitting at the table and gave a broad smile. A dimple creased on his left cheek, and his blue eyes shone brightly.

'There are my girls,' he said, grinning and walking forwards with his arms outstretched.

The mother and daughter stood up, and the three of them held one another for a moment in a warm embrace.

'Oh Jack, I'm sorry we've been so long, I've just been telling Audrey about our old friend Tom,' the mother said as they broke apart. The bride nodded and gave a heavy sigh.

'He sounds pretty crazy,' she remarked, half-laughing. Jack smiled knowingly.

'Nowhere near as crazy as your groom has become, wondering where you are!' He said, pointing to the clock. Sophie and her mother had been talking for much longer than thirty minutes.

'Shall we?' he asked graciously, offering his arm to her. She beamed up at him, her green eyes were bright with happiness. Jack smiled proudly at her. She looked just like her mother did on their wedding day. Bright eyed and breathtakingly beautiful. He patted Sophie's pale hand on the crook of his arm and looked up at his wife standing by the door.

'We'll see you in there Audrey,' Jack said as Sophie's mother gave one last smile at them and disappeared through the door.

'Are you ready now?' Jack asked softly. Sophie nodded quickly in return, knowing that despite all of life's trials, she had parents to show her that love can prevail. You just have to be a little crazy.

The End.

# A Note From the Author

_This was my very first novel, written in 2012. You know, it was supposed to be this sweet romance where Audrey tells her daughter all about how she fell in love with her father. In the planning stage, Tom was the father. But once I breathed life into him, he turned. (It was pretty creepy, if I'm honest.) Then the story turned into something much more than a simple romance._

_Since releasing this novel, I have received messages from readers thanking me for writing this. A lot of women relate to Dee's situation with Tom. I used to ask myself, how does a beautiful, intelligent woman end up in a controlling/abusive relationship? Then this book happened. And I learned that these guys are not controlling and abusive from the beginning. They're charismatic, charming, and seem like an amazing person. Then, slowly, it all changes._

_I'm proud of this book and what it represents. The main question (perhaps for book club!) is though: is Tom really the bad guy? How did Jack's love for Dee differ? Or was his "protectiveness" a little controlling too?_

_To read more about Jack and Dee, watch out for, "Love Me, Darling." All the couples in the "Love Me," series come together for a warm and uplifting Christmas romance._

_In the meantime, if you enjoyed this story, please do consider writing a review on your favourite retailer. Reviews are so helpful. And in the meantime, I have a special treat for you, here is the first chapter of "Love Me, Sweetie."_

# Love Me, Sweetie

Something Sour

Ada unwrapped the white towel from her damp hair and eyed the pink stains left on it.

'Oops!' she said aloud while mentally taking note to use a dark towel next time she attempts to dye her hair. She opened the white drawer of her dressing table, sat on the satin-covered chair and looked at herself in the mirror. Her amber eyes were glowing in the yellow-lit bedroom and her wet hair was a vibrant pink. Little streaks of dye ran down her temples and her skin appeared unusually pale. She grabbed some cotton pads and dabbed her face to remove any traces of dye and plugged her hair dryer into the socket by the mirror. It was the first time that Ada had attempted to dye her hair at home. Unfortunately, her monthly budget had taken a hit and she needed to make every penny count. At home hair care saved over forty-pounds a month, and that was the difference between having baked beans on toast every night for the rest of the month and having the odd takeaway. Ada bent over and spent a few minutes drying her hair. The high-pitched, unearthly scream of the dryer was so loud in Ada's ears that her phone rang unnoticed on the bed.

It was unfortunate really, that Ada did not answer the phone that evening. Nor did she sense any urgent need to find out who it was who tried to contact her. Instead, she ignored the notification of a missed call and blissfully went about her nightly routine. If Ada had answered the call, it may have changed everything. It was a simple moment that would be replayed in her mind over and over with regret. It was, however, an unknown number, and the idea of answering a call from the Unknown filled Ada with terror.

What Ada didn't know was that the Unknown was the local hospital and the faceless caller on the other end of that phone was a caring nurse who had been trying to contact a loved one to come and comfort the mature gentleman admitted onto her ward, who was distressed and disoriented following a car collision.

It was not until the following morning that Ada received another phone call; this one she did accept.

'Morning Lucas, are you at the shop already?' She said through a yawn as she stretched her arms out and bent backward. A frantic male voice came from the speaker,

'Ada! What are you doing home? Didn't the hospital call you?' Ada sat bolt upright; a sickly sensation swirled in her stomach.

'The hospital? I-' she started to say.

'I just picked up a message on the phone at the shop, Ada, your dad... he's-'

'My dad? He's what?' Ada cried out as she jumped out of bed and grabbed a pair of black jeans that were draped over the nearby chair.

'He's been in an accident,' Lucas replied hesitantly. Ada pressed 'Speaker' and set her phone on the bed, yanking up her jeans and buttoning them as she spoke.

'Do you know which ward he's in? Have you spoken to anyone?' She said breathlessly. She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her.

She picked up a crumpled shirt-throwing it over her head and pulled her arms through, straightening it instinctively as she focused on the phone lying on her bed.

'Ada I... the message was left last night. They said he's in the ICU.' Lucas said in a low voice.

Ada stopped moving for a moment and tried to breathe deeply to stop her feeling so light-headed.

'That's the Intensive-'

'Care Unit... yes, listen, do you want me to come and get you? I'll close the shop and drive you over there.' Lucas said quickly. Tears welled in Ada's eyes and the sickly feeling in her stomach grew stronger.

'No, no. We need that shop to keep running.' She replied wiping the tears from her eyes. She bent over and pulled her pink frizzy hair back into a messy bun and grabbed her ankle boots from under the bed. 'I'm going there now. Thanks, Lucas, I'll keep you posted.' She said as if on auto-pilot. Her voice had turned formal. As she was pulling on her boots, she blinked and wondered whether this is what an out of body experience felt like. Everything felt numb, except for a building nausea and light-headedness.

'Be safe Ada,' Lucas said just before the phone hung up.

Ada picked the phone up from the bed and dropped it into her black handbag, replacing it with a stick of gum which she unwrapped hurriedly and fumbled into her mouth. Chewing helped the nausea subside enough for her to clear her mind and find her car keys which were sitting on the worktop next to the fridge in her apartment. She marched out of the front door and slammed it behind her making the walls rattle.

Then she ran. Her feet barely touched the ground as he hurried down the flight of stairs, sprinted along the corridor, through the parking lot and to the driver's side of her car – without even thinking to take a breath.

Ada drove to the hospital on auto-pilot, her mind far away from the road she was driving on. The speedometer hovered dangerously at high speeds as she maintained momentum, taking a racing line through the roundabouts as she headed towards the hospital. The journey itself only took fifteen minutes at most, yet it felt like hours to Ada, who was busy picturing her father lying in a hospital bed hooked up to all manner of wires and medical machines.

When Ada snapped out of her despairing thoughts, she was standing outside a door in a sterile corridor. There was nothing fancy about the doorway. Just a simple A4 sheet of paper affixed to a frosted window, with the words "Welcome to the ICU, please press the button and wait." Ada wasn't sure why this sandy-coloured hospital door looked out of place. Yet, it did somehow. Like anyone passing it would have absolutely no idea that life-changing experiences could be happening at that very moment on the other side. Little did she realise the person she was would be left behind when she passed through that door, and when she came out again, she would be a different person entirely.

Ada pressed the button and watched the small speaker box next to it as a shrill ringing sound ricocheted off the walls.

'Intensive Care Unit, how can we help?' A cheery voice boomed out of the speaker. Ada swallowed.

'I'm Ada Green, I think my father is here,' she said unsurely.

'Richard Green?' The voice asked.

'Yes, that's right,' Ada replied, her voice weak now. It was as if a couple of snakes were writhing around in her insides as she spoke. A pool of sweat gathered on her upper lip and she felt an awful sense of panic start to rise in her chest. This is not happening, she thought to herself.

'One moment please,' the lady said formally. Ada started to pace back and forth outside the door, trying to keep control of her breathing. Her breaths were shallow, with her lungs refusing to expand fully. The corridor was eerily quiet compared to the other areas of the hospital and Ada was all alone. Minutes passed before the lady's voice echoed out of the speaker again.

'Please push the door and come into the waiting room. Doctor Francis will come and see you shortly.' Her voice was formal again, less friendly than she was previously. A beep sounded in the air and Ada pushed against the sandy-coloured door and it swung open with a squeak.

Ada entered a large room, littered with armchairs and coffee tables. It looked rather plain for a waiting room. There was an anthology of poetry sitting on the coffee table and a small notice board on the main wall with phone listings for counselling. The windows had no curtains and the carpet was worn and patchy. There was a small kitchen in the corner and a dusty-looking coffee machine sat on the worktop that looked like it had not been used for a long time. A door to the far right had brown paper taped to its window blocking the view of what might be on the other side. Ada supposed this was the door to the actual Intensive Care Unit. The door that Doctor Francis would come through. Ada's heart was thumping hard in her chest as the shrill squealing of tinnitus in her ears was building. She chose a chair close to the door and interlocked her fingers as she rested her hands in her lap. Several, long minutes passed by and Ada glanced to the toilet door to her side and wondered whether she should use it or not. Enough time had passed that she now felt the urge to empty her bladder, but a doctor could come through that door at any moment. She didn't really want to be sat on the loo with the doctor waiting.

Five more minutes passed by and no one came. Ada crept to the door with the brown paper blocking the window and pressed her ear to it. She could just about hear some beeping noises but no footsteps. She turned on the spot and dashed to the toilet.

'Miss Green?' A deep voice called out. Ada sighed and rolled her eyes as she began to wash her hands.

'Just a minute,' she called out as she grabbed a paper towel. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and unlocked the toilet door. As the door swung open, three people came into view making Ada jump back in surprise.

'Hello,' said a woman; she had brown hair swept up in a loose bun, black framed glasses perched on her narrow nose, and a name badge attached to a lanyard around her neck. She motioned for Ada to take a seat next to her. Sitting in the broken chairs were two men. One of them had bright ginger hair and white blonde eyebrows. He looked young, possibly no older than Ada at 24. The other male was short and stout with a round belly. He wore a pinstriped shirt and breathed loudly with an intermittent cough.

Ada sat across from the doctors and wondered why they were all there. Why were they not taking her straight to her father? Why was there no sense of urgency? Why did these doctors look nervous and guarded?

'Miss Green, I am Doctor Francesca Francis, head surgeon of cardiology,' the woman started to speak in a formal tone. She motioned to the ginger man next to her, 'This is my colleague, Doctor Hornby who is the senior consultant for your father, Mr. Green.' The ginger man nodded politely with a small smile. His blue eyes looked watery in the light. Doctor Francis then pointed to the stout man, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat and wouldn't look Ada in the eye. 'This is Doctor Waldorf, who has been monitoring your father,' Doctor Francis continued.

'Hello,' Ada said softly. She wasn't sure what to do in this situation. What do you say when you're sitting with three doctors, who are about to tell you the news of your father? Nobody at school teaches you about this sort of situation. How do you sit? Knees crossed? Ankles crossed? Hands on your lap? Fold your arms? Ada felt so wooden and uncomfortable with her hands glued to her lap and her back bolt upright. The writhing snakes in her stomach made her feel queasy. She eyed the sink in the corner of the room and mentally prepared herself to make a run for it should the nausea rank up a gear. Doctor Hornby leaned forward resting his weight on his hands, as he gripped the seat of his chair and looked at Ada carefully.

'Mr. Green was involved in a road collision with a transit van.' He said. The way he spoke was as if he was giving the weather forecast. He spoke evenly, calmly. Ada gulped.

'A transit van? Isn't that a really big-' she started to ask. Doctor Francis nodded and said,

'Yes, dear, it was quite a serious accident.' She looked over at Doctor Waldorf, who hadn't yet said a word. He cleared his throat and rubbed his mouth with his stubby fingers.

'Yes, well, Mr. Green was brought to me via ambulance at approximately 9:30pm last night,' he began to say in a gruff voice. His eyes looked everywhere in the room but at Ada, avoiding her gaze. 'He had substantial internal bleeding to the stomach and his spleen was completely crushed. I believe a nurse found an emergency contact number for him, but unfortunately, we couldn't get an answer before we needed to decide on our course of action.' He said, sweat was forming on his brow and he coughed some more. Doctor Hornby took over, giving the nervous man a moment to recover.

'You see, Mr. Green needed surgery to remove his spleen, make a repair to his stomach and stop the internal bleeding.' He explained. Ada blinked and nodded her head in silence, her mind swirling with the new information being given to her. Doctor Francis piped up now, her back straight and cheeks sucked in.

'Doctor Waldorf is a brilliant general surgeon and made a clean repair on his stomach and localised the bleeding. He removed the spleen successfully and the surgery went as well as anyone could have hoped.' Ada let out a breath as if she'd been holding it the entire time.

'Oh, I'm so relieved,' she said, bending over and resting her forehead in her hands for a moment. Her hands were clammy and cold against her head that was burning hot.

'Mr. Green was transferred here, to the ICU for recovery. This is quite normal for patients who have been through surgery and there was no reason for us to believe that Mr. Green would not make a full recovery.' Doctor Francis continued in a careful tone. Ada snapped back upright and looked at her pointedly.

'Sorry, what are you telling me?' she asked quickly. Doctor Hornby and Doctor Waldorf exchanged looks while Doctor Francis tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned forward to take Ada by the hand.

'During the night, Mr. Green suffered coronary heart failure. It is not common, but it does happen when the body has suffered such a trauma. I personally opened him up and attempted to defibrillate his heart and repair the damage, but unfortunately, it was too extensive.' She said almost in a whisper. Her eyes were wide and defensive, but she held onto Ada's hand like she was giving a confession.

'What are you saying? Are you saying my dad is -?' Ada couldn't get the word to come out of her mouth. There was a weighted silence in the room as the three doctors looked at each other, Ada pulled her hand back from Doctor Francis and stood up.

'I want to see my father, where is he?' she said angrily. Ada had enough of this meeting. She came to see her father. Hold his hand, give him a hug, do what daughters do in these types of situations. The three doctors stood.

'Miss Green, it is important for you to understand that we did everything we could.' Doctor Hornby said slowly. Doctor Waldorf coughed and finally looked Ada in the eye as he said, 'I'm very sorry Miss Green, but your father did not survive.'

Ada froze. Her ears were filled with a rushing sound, like running water. It felt like her head was stuck in a washing machine. Amongst the sounds, she heard a drum banging to the rhythm of her heartbeat. It was as if the world stopped turning on its axis and the air became very still. Ada blinked and swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. She tried to focus on Doctor Francis' crimson lips, which wrinkled as she spoke. Her mouth was moving but no sound could reach Ada's ears. Then the room became fuzzy and disappeared from view until nothing but black spots covered her vision.

'Ok, let's sit you down and get you a hot drink,' A woman's voice came out of the darkness. Ada bent over and threw up all over the floor and moaned. Then she passed out.

  * You can find Love Me, Sweetie on your favourite retailer.

_About Laura Burton: Laura was raised by two-loving parents with her older brother and two sisters. She spent most of her teenage years in Bristol and attended a private all-girls' school Clifton High. The school in the story, "Love Me, Crazy," is the same school Laura attended. Many of the locations within the story, such as Cabot Tower are places, she loved to visit as a teenager. Laura now lives in Swindon, Wiltshire with her husband, their three sons and her mother. She spends her free time blogging about life and mental health and writes personalised poetry for bereaved families._

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_Email:laburton08@yahoo.co.uk_
