But she hadn’t seen him around today.
Movement caught her eye then and she saw a glint amongst the leaves as the metal gates swung back behind the trees. It looked like Brendan was home early.
That would no doubt panic Geraldine, Holly thought glumly. She’d already said she wanted to look perfect for when her husband arrived home.
The sleek black Ferrari glided up the driveway and parked outside the front entrance. Holly tracked it until it drew too close to the house for her to see.
Flicking the switch on the curling tongs, she began to style her hair the way Geraldine had suggested. She’d quickly learned that her boss’s suggestions were actually clear instructions and were not generally up for debate.
It was always easiest to do exactly as Geraldine bade her.
She applied a bit of make-up, fluffed up her curls and sprayed them, then slipped on the silky kimono-style dress that she’d worn only once before but that Geraldine had deemed was a look that suited her.
Fifteen minutes later, she had headed downstairs.
‘Wow, lucky me,’ Brendan had grinned when she appeared at the lounge door. ‘Two beautiful women to entertain me at dinner tonight.’
‘Hi, Brendan.’ Holly had smiled, but inside, she’d silently raged. Entertain him indeed! She’d much rather be watching tonight’s episode of Big Brother in the peace of her own room than witness the two of them simpering at each other for hours down here.
‘So, how’re things going with my two favourite ladies?’ Brendan had poured himself a generous whisky and Holly watched as he knocked it straight back before pouring another.
‘Everything’s good, thanks.’ She’d nodded, sensing an opportunity. ‘Brendan, I wondered if you’d had a chance to get a copy of my contract from Myra yet?’
‘I am such a klutz!’ He’d clapped his hand to his forehead. ‘I’ll get her to print it off on Monday when she’s back in the office. Pinky promise.’
Holly was well past nodding and thanking him by now. It was the same old story time after time, and she didn’t grace it with a response.
‘Wit-woo!’ Brendan had given a low whistle as Geraldine appeared. ‘I’m the luckiest man on earth.’
Holly had to agree. Geraldine looked simply stunning, in a full-length powder-blue gown that set her glossy chestnut hair off perfectly. A simple diamond collar hugged the base of her throat and more jewels glistened on her fingers and wrist.
Her eye make-up was dark and sultry and her lips pouted in a shimmery pale apricot gloss. In contrast, Holly felt like a little kid dressed as a woman.
‘You look really beautiful, Geraldine,’ she’d said dutifully.
‘Thank you, darling.’ She’d gracefully accepted the glass of champagne that Brendan handed her. He’d picked up another glass and offered it to Holly.
‘Thanks, but I was just going to have juice tonight,’ she’d said.
‘Ahem… nobody will be drinking orange juice on my watch.’ Brendan had grinned, holding his own glass aloft. ‘Cheers!’
They’d toasted and Holly took a sip of the fizz. She had to admit it did taste delicious.
After the food, which Holly had noticed they both barely touched, Brendan put on a George Michael album and the three of them retired to the big soft leather couches.
‘I’ll have another drink with you and then I’ll take myself up to bed,’ Holly had said. ‘It’s been a really lovely evening.’
‘Nonsense,’ Geraldine had replied. ‘We hardly ever get the chance to chat together, the three of us. I don’t want you to go up yet, Holly.’
Holly had forced a smile and wondered how many more of Brendan’s business stories she could endure without falling asleep. They all ran along the same lines: an amazing business opportunity presented itself, somebody mucked the deal up, everyone thought all was lost, and then clever, resourceful Brendan saved the day. Yawn.
The worst part had been that he addressed everything he said directly to Holly, forcing her to pay attention and make all the right noises in all the right places.
Geraldine’s initial brighter mood had seemed to desert her after dinner, and she’d sat staring into space as Brendan rattled through his stories, obviously bored out of her brains from hearing them all before.
Holly had thought the end of the evening was drawing near, that soon she’d be tucked up in bed savouring a little time alone before sleep. Precious moments when she could be herself again.
She couldn’t have known that within the hour, she would lose ‘Holly’ altogether. That even years later, she would still be fighting to find herself.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
David
My eyes snap wide open.
For a second or two I don’t know where I am, until I turn my head and see the reassuring square of the floral curtains filtering the early light at the window.
My heartbeat slows a touch but I still do the talking bit to soothe myself.
I’m at home, in my bed. I’m safe. Everything is fine.
It’s the same voice that reassured the young lad in the playground when he had nobody to play with at break time and lunch. It’s the same voice that calmed him down on the daunting walk home, wondering if Johnny Camps and his mates would be waiting for him round the next corner yet again.
It’s all in the past now. I’m looking ahead to the future.
I do the breathing, in and out. Long, slow breaths that carry away the tightness in my face. I wiggle my jaw and get the satisfying crack that will release yet more tension.
In a rush, I remember that I forgot to take my tablets again yesterday. I’ll need to remove them from the foil packets, flush them down the loo before Mother sees.
I kick off the covers, exposing my hot limbs to the cool air.
The dream… It was so real.
I was back there, on that very street. Della was screaming so loudly, but I couldn’t stop myself… I couldn’t stop punching and kicking, even when my knuckles were skinned. And then, when she collapsed on the floor, I still couldn’t stop.
I did the only thing I could do in the dream… I ran. And when the police sirens came, I ran faster still.
That day, when they picked me up, I was still running.
Later, all the police wanted to know was why I’d tried to escape, and of course, I had no answer for that. I could hardly say I was so far gone in the red mist of rage that if I hadn’t managed to get myself away, they’d be investigating a murder now.
I was sorry, I said. I was so sorry for Della and sorry, now, for what I’d done.
I shake my head to dispel the thoughts. This line of thinking is not remotely helpful.
Things are different now.
I have a good job and I have Holly’s friendship.
I’m not a dangerous man. Despite everything that happened, things getting out of hand.
Everybody loses it at some point in their life; it’s just that it had disastrous consequences for Della.
One day, I might even tell Holly about it, but not now. Probably not for a very long time.
The last thing I want to do is scare her off.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Holly
Holly sat up in bed and swung her legs out from under the covers until her feet touched the scratchy threadbare carpet.
She stared at the window, the spot where she’d stood in the early hours.
As predicted, she’d lain awake for ages after hearing the noises outside and then spotting the staring figure at the end of the garden.
Finally forcing herself back to bed, she’d had to fight the urge to keep getting up to peer out of the window, terrified that the figure had returned. A paralysing fear had kept her motionless and cowering under the duvet.
Hour after hour, the glowing red digits had marched relentlessly onwards, and ironically, the more she fretted over getting up for work, the more sleep completely evaded her.