It rings once. ‘Ava,’
I was expecting a voice laced with smugness and deep satisfaction, so when I hear this one, which is broken and strained, I’m thrown completely. It takes me a few moments to piece a sentence together and when I do, it’s not at all what I had intended to say. ‘Are you okay?’
He laughs, but it’s weak. ‘Why don’t you ask your husband?’
The back of my head hits the headrest of my seat, and I stare up at the ceiling of my car. I should have predicted this. ‘How bad?’
‘Oh, just a couple of broken ribs and a black eye. Nothing major. Your husband knows how to do a job properly, I’ll give him that.’
‘Why did you do it?’
‘Because I want everything he has with you. Or I did. Kate took great pleasure in telling me you were marrying him, and then that letter fell on my doormat. I wondered why you would be seeking an abortion if you were married, so I guessed he didn’t know. I took a chance. Why are you having an abortion?’
‘I’m not.’
‘Then why…’
‘Because I was shocked.’ I shout defensively. I’m not explaining myself to him. Silence falls down the line, and I’m not in the least bit compelled to explain myself further. ‘I think this is where you give up, Matt.’
‘Well I won’t be setting myself up for another beating from your unhinged husband. Not even you are worth the pain I’m in right now.’
I laugh to myself and my stupidity for almost feeling sorry for him.
‘Oh,’ he continues, ‘and don’t worry about Elizabeth and Joseph. I’ve been given a little taste of what will happen if I share your news. Can I suggest that you get your address changed so I don’t receive any of your shit in future?’ He hangs up, and I stare down at my phone in disbelief. I didn’t blast him with half of the words I’ve been mentally preparing throughout the day. I didn’t get to spit my hatred at him, or even slap his face. I’d love to slap his face. I smirk to myself, my smile only broadening when a mental image of Jesse pounding on Matt’s loser arse springs to mind. I’m not a violent person, but if Jesse wants to take his anger out on someone, then Matt would be my person of choice every time. He deserves everything he gets, and there’s no doubt in my mind that I won’t be hearing from him again and neither will my parents. It’s one more thing ticked off my list of issues. Sarah has apologised, for what it’s worth, but she’s gone and that’s all that matters. Kate and Sam are together, and Kate and Dan are not. I’ve made friends with my brother, and Matt has been trampled. That one makes me smile again. But what I really need to be doing is finding my husband and making friends with him. I chuck my phone on the passenger seat and make my way back towards the city.
I feel like I’m on a cleansing mission. Our new life together will be free from troubles very soon, and it’s right now that I decide to tackle the final issue tomorrow. Mikael. I’ve still not heard from him, but there’s nothing he can say, anyway, nothing he can tell me, so I don’t know what the point of our meeting will be. He’s not back from Denmark, or if he is I’ve not heard from him, but I’ll call him. I’ll beat him to the punch. I’m full of determination to eradicate this final issue. I’m making it my mission objective. I’ll do anything.
As I’m driving over London Bridge, I glance up to my rear view mirror and spot a familiar car. Jesse’s car. He’s dipping in and out of the traffic in his usual haphazard style, overtaking and generally causing traffic mayhem in his wake. I spend a few moments flicking my eyes between the road ahead and my rear view mirror, the potential of what I’m about to face slowly settling in the pit of my stomach. He’s been following me, which means he has followed me to Matt’s office, which means he is going to hit the f**king roof. I didn’t see Matt, but the intention was there, and I’m not going to try and convince myself that Jesse wouldn’t know where Matt worked. Of course he knows where Matt worked. I’m fighting the clash of extreme worry and extreme rage. I’m worried for obvious reasons, but the rage is overshadowing that right now. Following me? This shouldn’t be a surprise. I need to stop being so astounded by what lengths this man goes to—the things that he does, the reactions that he has, the extreme reactions he draws from me.
I know it’s him, but that doesn’t stop me taking a right, and then a right, and then a right again, bringing me back to where I started, and as I knew it would be, the DBS is still tailing me a few cars behind. I’m leading him on a merry dance. I feel around on the seat for my phone and stab at the buttons.
‘Yes?’ he spits, short, curt and clipped. Not his usual baby or pleasure filled tone. I’m astounded.
‘Nice drive?’ I ask.
‘What?’