Fifty Days of Sin Page 18

  “Justine, don’t go.” He follows me down the stairs. “Please, we can’t let this ruin everything.”

  “You’ve already ruined everything, Adam,” I accuse as I run down to the ground floor, pulling my coat off the peg by the front door and picking up my handbag. He’s got hold of my arm again and forces me round to look in his face.

  “Don’t just run out on me because you’re angry.” His expression is hard. “You can’t leave me.”

  “Just watch me, Adam. Let me go – don’t touch me. I don’t want to see you.” I shake off his grip and then I’m out of the door, stamping out of his driveway.

  “Justine, come back. You can’t stand around alone on the street at night. At least come inside and I’ll call you a cab.”

  “Just leave me alone, Adam. I’ll phone for a cab out here.” I get out to the pavement outside his house and pull out my mobile, dialling a number for a local firm. He keeps the door open, watching me, and thankfully the man who answers the phone promises a taxi will arrive within ten minutes. I button my coat and pull the collar around my throat, shivering despite the warmth of the night.

  Standing waiting, I’m still crying tears of humiliation and hurt, and my body feels like a block of ice. I deliberately face the other way until I hear the front door shut. So he’s given up on me. I keep checking my watch and then as I glance round I see that he’s looking out of the window to watch over me and check that I’m safe. I turn back away from him again immediately, not wanting him to see. Eventually, after what seems like an age, the taxi pulls up. I don’t care what the driver thinks of my tear stained face and dishevelled appearance. I give him the direction to my house and sit back, exhausted, as he pulls away from the kerb and starts on my journey home, out of Adam’s life.

  Seventeen

  Saturday, 16 June

  ALL I WANT TO DO IS wrap myself in my duvet and block out the world. If a big black pit were to open up underneath me and swallow me whole, I feel low enough to welcome the oblivion it would bring.

  Somehow I dragged myself through the rest of the working week, and crawled back into my hole on Friday night, completely drained. I’ve been making myself eat only because I know I have to – my appetite has been at rock bottom along with everything else. But I’ve not had the energy to cook, so the remains of several part-eaten takeaways are currently languishing in my dustbin.

  The corset Adam gave me is shoved in the corner of my wardrobe in a plastic bag. I can’t help wondering if Adam’s done the same with the bra I inadvertently left on his bedroom floor. But when I think of his bedroom, I think of Natasha, and the degrading position she saw me in when she walked into the room, and all I can do is hang my head in shame, trying to forget.

  Now, with Friday finally behind me, I was expecting a weekend of solitude, an opportunity to shut out the outside world and just get myself through the days on my own. But if I thought I could hide forever, I was wrong. Now Kathy is here, eliciting the first smile I’ve managed in nearly a week.

  “I’m so glad you came over,” I tell her. We’ve been sat together on the sofa talking like this for over an hour already. “I didn’t think anything could help, but it’s always good to see you. Even today.”

  “I’m just worried about you,” she tells me, her eyes full of anxiety. “And I know you don’t want to tell me about what happened between you and Adam, but it’s hard to give you advice when I don’t know what you argued about.”

  “Believe me, you don’t want me to tell you.” I shake my head. “You know, do you ever get annoyed with people when they exaggerate?” I ask. “Saying their heart’s broken. They’re devastated. Their world’s shattered. I used to listen to people say that kind of thing and think, what rubbish you’re talking. Your heart’s not broken, it’s still beating. Your world’s not shattered, you’re just really upset. But now I know how it feels. I really am devastated, Kathy. I don’t know what I’m going to do without Adam.”

  “Is it really the end for you two then?” She looks almost as despondent as I feel. “Can’t you talk things through?”

  “I don’t know,” I reply, genuinely torn. “First of all, he hasn’t been in touch, so I don’t even know if he wants to talk things through. Maybe it’s all over for him. Oh, I was so stupid, not telling him that I’d stopped seeing Edward and Michael. But that’s not really what we argued about. I don’t even know if I could go back now after what happened. Oh, God, Kathy, it was so awful.” My body starts to heave convulsively again as I stifle more sobs, and Kathy’s arms are around me, cradling me and pulling me into her shoulder to weep.

  I’ve told her that Adam was seeing another woman, a beautiful petite blonde, but spared her the grisly details. It’s ironic that only the day before the scene of my humiliation in Adam’s bedroom, Kathy advised me to tell him he was the only one I was seeing now. If only I’d been open and honest with him earlier, the whole thing would never have happened.

  “I’m going to make you a cup of tea,” says Kathy after I’ve calmed down and pulled away from her. “With extra sugar.” I smile weakly in acquiescence and she stands up and goes to the kitchen. I know how lucky I am to have such a good friend as Kathy. Not many friends would be so patient, never once saying ‘I told you so’ or probing me for information that I don’t want to give. One thing is for sure – I don’t want anyone ever to know what happened last Tuesday night.

  “Here,” she says, returning with two hot mugs of tea and a worried smile. “Is that enough milk for you?”

  “It looks fine. Thanks.” There’s a message tone on my phone and I pick it up off the coffee table and take a look.

  “Kathy, it’s Adam.” I’m so nervous, looking at the unopened text, that I feel a wave of nausea.

  “Are you going to read it?” she asks. “I’ll just be back in a minute, okay? I’m just going to your bathroom.”

  She tactfully disappears as I stare at the screen. Heart thumping, I hit ‘open’.

  Hi Justine. I’m missing you so badly. I wish I could turn back time and go back to before Tuesday night. I’m so sorry about what I did and all I want is to see you again and talk things over. We could meet up somewhere neutral if you like. Would you meet me this afternoon? Adam

  I’m still staring at the screen when Kathy comes back. I show her the text.

  “Do you want to see him, Justine?”

  “Yes. No. Yes. I don’t know.”

  “You look to me like you’re lost without him,” she says gently. “Surely there can’t be any harm in talking?”

  I shut my eyes and put my head in my hands. Images of the blonde girl in the corset keep replaying in my mind. I can see every detail, her pretty face which I’d like to tear with my nails, the slutty red underwear, that whip she was carrying. And I can’t help picturing what I must have looked like to her, half-naked and exposed on Adam’s bed.

  Then I think of Adam and the times we had before that awful night. The lovely meal we shared just hours before my world fell apart. His beautiful grey eyes, the way that dimple appears in his cheek when he smiles his gorgeous smile. The incredible sex, the eroticism of being restrained and punished. The soft caresses and the warmth of being held in his strong arms. Oh, how I miss him.

  “No,” I concede. “There can’t be any harm in talking.”

  I compose a text back to Adam and show it to Kathy before I hit ‘send’. Almost as soon as it’s gone, I get a reply, and it’s all arranged. I’m meeting him at two o’clock in the Crooked Pot pub down the road. It’s not somewhere I usually go, but it’s very close to my house so I can bolt back home if necessary, and besides, I don’t want to meet anyone I know.

  Kathy stays for a little while but then, sensing that I need some time to compose myself before I see him, she leaves, having extracted a promise to shower and change and eat some lunch. On the doorstep, she envelops me in a big hug.

  “I hope it all goes okay with him,” she says, her eyes crinkling at the corners with concern. />
  “Thanks, Kathy,” I tell her as she leaves and climbs into her car. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  She drives off with a little wave and I go back indoors, then, remembering my promise, I head to the shower, getting washed and dried and putting on some clean clothes. Dully, I reflect that I’ve always made an effort to pick out my most flattering outfits when I’ve seen Adam before but today I just don’t have the energy to even think about it. So I pull on in a worn pair of cropped jeans and an old vest top.

  I apply the hairdryer to my mass of long hair just to get it dry, not worrying about the style at all. After a short while I give up, knowing I’ve got a while until I see him, so it can finish drying on its own in this hot weather. I take one look at my makeup bag and can’t even face it. Instead I go downstairs and wander into the kitchen.

  Lunch – the other thing I promised Kathy. I open the fridge and find very little. But at least I have bread and milk, as she brought some round this morning, correctly guessing that I wouldn’t be looking after myself properly. I spread some low fat spread on a slice of bread and eat it standing up in the kitchen, then drink a glass of water. That’s not good enough – Kathy wouldn’t approve. I find a small piece of cheese and eat it, then get a slightly shrivelled apple out of the fruit bowl. I take a few bites and then give up, throwing the rest in the bin. That will do. At least I’ve had carbs, protein and some fruit.

  I look at my watch: still only a quarter past twelve, and the pub where I’m meeting Adam is only a ten minute walk away. I don’t know if I want to text him back and tell him I’ve changed my mind, or just see him right now and get it over with. Why didn’t we agree to meet earlier? What am I going to do for an hour and three-quarters?

  I sit on the sofa and pick up the remote, flicking through the TV channels, but nothing can divert me right now. I switch it off again, disheartened, and pick up my phone to have a look through my friends’ Facebook posts. Hannah posted this morning that she’s glad it’s so sunny as she’s heading to a National Trust property called Waddesdon Manor to meet friends for a picnic. Melanie is looking forward to a big night out with other single friends and keeping her fingers crossed that she meets a nice man out on the town. George’s wife Christine, who sent me a friend request straight away after I met her in London, is going on a spending spree to kit out the nursery for their new arrival.

  I type in a post. I know Adam won’t see it as he hates Facebook, so what I write won’t be there for him to see. “Thanks, Kathy, for coming over. I’ve changed and eaten some lunch like I promised you and I am definitely keeping my date. I’ll let you know how I got on later. I feel very lucky to have such a great friend.”

  Then I look at my watch again. Only ten minutes to one. My stomach is in knots but I have to wait.

  Eventually the hands of my watch drag themselves round until they say twenty minutes to two. That’s long enough, I decide, so I shove my feet into my sandals and pick up my bag.

  Then I’m out of the door. I put on my sunglasses to block out the sun. It seems the wrong day for it to be shining so brightly when I’m so low. At least that desultory lunch has stopped me from feeling completely weak and drained.

  But my head is awhirl with speculation about what’s going to happen when I see Adam.

  So I don’t see the car pull up beside me.

  It all happens so fast, I hardly know what’s hit me. I just about have time to gasp for air before a hand clamps down firmly over my mouth and I’m bundled into the back of the green Volkswagen. Strong hands pin me down. Hands that have touched me before.

  “Michael! No!” I manage to scream before he binds some fabric tightly around my mouth, gagging me. I’m tearing at him with my hands, eyes wide with fear, looking up at the face of my former lover. It’s contorted with grim effort and determination, hard and frightening. He looks so different.

  He grabs my wrists to defend himself from my onslaught. I’m still fighting as hard as I can but Michael is stronger than me. Isn’t there anyone around watching what’s going on, I ask myself frantically? Surely he can’t do this in broad daylight, won’t someone have heard my scream, seen Michael grab me, and call the police?

  Then with a sickening jolt he forces me over onto my front and pulls my hands behind my back. He ties them too, firmly, and I hear the noise of the tape as he pulls it off the reel to truss me up like a chicken, restraining my ankles too. I’m bucking and trying as hard as I can to thrash about, making as much noise as possible through the gag, but I’ve got little ability to move with my wrists and ankles restrained, and now the door has slammed shut behind me.

  I hear the engine start up and the car pull away and I lie still, unable to move enough to attempt an escape. I’m afraid and panting from the failed effort to fight Michael off. Where the hell is he going to take me?

  And what will happen to me when we get there?

  Eighteen

  Saturday, 16 June

  THE CAR JOURNEY HAS HARDLY STARTED when Michael switches off the engine. I crane my head to see as he reaches over to the front passenger seat. He’s got my handbag there and he’s searching in it. Then I hear a jangling sound. He’s got my front door keys.

  I strain to look out of the window and realise that I think I recognise the tree I can see through the glass. Michael’s brought me to my own house.

  Then he gets out and opens the rear door of the car that’s near my feet. Painfully, he pulls away the tape on my ankles with a sudden movement and I cry out underneath the gag. But I feel a tiny stab of relief as I am able to move my legs once more. Is he going to release my hands too?

  No such luck. He puts his head down near to mine, to whisper menacingly into my ear, “We’re going inside, Justine. Don’t try anything. I’ve got a knife.” And then I know he’s telling me the truth as he presses the point into my back, just enough to make me feel the sharpness of the blade, halfway down my spine. I freeze in fear and then he takes it away and throws a long coat over me and pulls me up to my knees.

  “We’re getting out now. You need to walk properly.” The gag is still tied around my mouth; will any of my neighbours see it, or a passer-by? I look around and see a jogger approaching in the distance. Hope surges inside me. Michael forces me out of the car and onto my feet and I realise that the coat, some kind of long rainproof jacket, that he’s put around my shoulders is there to hide the fact that my hands are tied behind my back. As he shuts the car door, his hand is up the back of the coat and I can feel the knifepoint nudging menacingly into my back again. I look around for the jogger but then to my dismay I see him head up a side-street. I don’t think he’s seen me at all.

  Michael walks me to my front door, still holding me at knifepoint, and puts my keys in the lock. Then we’re inside and he slams the front door behind us, then takes the key and locks it from the inside.

  My back is to the door, my hands are tied and I’m still gagged. Michael turns to face me, withdrawing the knife but keeping it in his hand.

  “Oh, Justine, why did you ignore me?” he asks, and I flinch and try to pull away as he puts out his hand to stroke my hair. His other hand moves up suddenly and the knife is at my throat. “Keep still,” he warns and my heart thumps with fear.

  “All those messages and you didn’t reply to any of them,” he continues, moving his hand to stroke my face and, to my relief, lowering the knife. “I’ve missed you so much, Justine. I’ve missed the things we did together. Don’t you know how much I loved you?”

  Mutely, I shake my head. Loved? Dimly, in the back of my mind, I wonder what it means as he uses the past tense. So he doesn’t love me any more. What does this mean he’s going to do?

  “I used to love it when you punished me,” he breathes, and I try my best not to recoil from him – not that I could go very far, backed up against the door. “I wish we could do it all again. But I can’t risk letting you. So instead I’m going to have to punish you.” He trails his hand down my neck and softly
runs it over the curve of my breast. I feel a shiver of revulsion. “I’m going to hurt you, Justine.”

  Then to my surprise he reaches out and starts to untie the gag. He’s still talking. “I know you like to be chastised, you dirty little slut,” he continues, and I shrink from him further as he spits his insult at me. He is so different from the Michael I knew, but as I stare at him with horror it dawns on me that I saw glimpses of his dark side before, and thought nothing of them. How could I have been so stupid? “But I haven’t pushed you to your limits yet,” he continues venomously. “And I’m going to do that today. Push you to your limits – and beyond them. Way beyond.”