The Story of Me (Carnage #2)

“So is she using now, while she’s pregnant?”


He shakes his head. “She was in the beginning. I had to get her on a specialist program so they could monitor the baby while they got her off the shit. Now I pay for a nurse and a minder to be with her twenty four seven, one to look after her and one to make sure she doesn’t get the opportunity to get her hands on gear of any kind.”

I shake my head in disgust. I’d do anything to be able to carry a baby again. I’d give anything to be a mother, yet here’s this pathetic excuse for a human, snorting lines of Charlie and taking untold risks with the health of her baby. I’ve no idea what the effects of cocaine are on a developing foetus, but I’m pretty sure they’re not good.

Without realising it, I’ve crossed my hands across my belly, protecting something that’s not there, something that will never be there again.

“Come over here, Kitten. Let’s talk.” I go and sit at the opposite end of the sofa to him.

“I didn’t know you’d lost two babies. I’m so sorry you went through that.” I don’t want to hear his words of sympathy. I’m fine until people start telling me how sorry they are.

“I had an ectopic. I’d only known I was pregnant for a day or so.” He nods, but doesn’t say any more for a few seconds. I reach over to the coffee table and pick up my wine glass. He tops it up for me and then puts the cream throw back over me. “How long have you lived here?” I ask.

“A couple of years. I bought it when we started work on K, and when we started work on… the club in Shoreditch, I needed to be closer. I was sick of battling traffic so I bought this place.” I notice he stopped himself saying the name of the club and I wonder if it’s true that the two K’s stand for Kitten and King.

“Do you still have the other place, above the wine bar?” He nods.

“I still own the wine bar. It does well. My sister runs it and the restaurant. They’re both doing well. She lives in the flat now.” I can’t help but smile as I think of the things we did in that flat, every room, every surface, but then I remember the last time I was there.

“You were a mess the last time I was in that flat. You really scared me.”

He nods his head. “I was. I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel you had to get like that.” I want to go to him and show him how sorry I am, but I stay where I am. “What happened? Did your brother get you the help you needed?”

He nods slowly. “I was a mess for about six months. I was off the drugs but suffering from depression. I just couldn’t function and you seemed to be everywhere. Every time I turned on the telly, opened the paper or a magazine, there was a story about you and your amazing love story and I just felt like I couldn’t escape it.” I cover my mouth to try and hold in a sob.

“I’m so sorry, Tiger, I treated you appallingly. You were so good to me. You put me back together and I just walked back to the man who broke me.” He folds his arms across his chest and shrugs.

“That’s why I need to be sure this time. I can’t let that happen again. I’m in too far now. End of the day, Kitten, I’m always gonna love ya, no matter what happens between us. It just hurt so much before coz I thought we were good. I thought I had it all worked out and we’d be together. I just never realised that I was inconsequential to you once he was back on the scene.”

I ache. My throat, my chest, my insides ache. I’ve been there. I know the agony of being left and I hate that I was guilty for making him feel like that, that I caused him that much pain.

I wipe my eyes on the back of my hand.

“Do we stand a chance do you think? Will you ever be able to forgive me for what happened back then?” He shakes his head and I feel like the floor has been pulled away from me.

“I’ve already told you I don’t know. We can try, Kitten. That’s all we can do.” I nod.

“I need to ask you something. If the baby’s yours, what will you do?”

“I haven’t got a fucking clue. I can’t look after a kid with my lifestyle, my work, and she certainly can’t.” He finishes his drink and then pours the last of the bottle into his glass. “Tamara’s just two years older than you. I’ve known her since she was eighteen. We were at some charity dinner thing. We spent the night together and that was it. She was just starting out as a model and she was doing some television presenting, and for a while, she was gonna be the next big thing.”