‘Don’t.’ His chest heaving, he warned her off. ‘When were you going to tell me, Jemma?’ He wiped his bloodied hand across his mouth. ‘Not when he was born, clearly; you were hoping I was gullible enough to accept him as mine. When he was ten? After I’d given a speech at his fucking wedding?When?’
‘Iwasgoing to tell you,’ Jemma lied. ‘I wanted to.’
‘Yeah, right.’ Ryan sneered scornfully. ‘When was that then? After you’d made the “terrible mistake” of shagging my mate? Or when you realised you were pregnant with hischild?’
She dropped her gaze. ‘I… don’t know,’ she whispered, wrapping her arms about herself. She felt so cold. So cold and lonely and ugly inside. She’d thought this was her way of having everything. The family she’d so badly craved. A beautiful little house they could live happily ever after in. Instead, she had nothing. Dirty secrets swept under the carpet, that was all.
‘I get that you wanted to keep the baby.’ Ryan spoke after a minute, his voice choked. ‘But this? The deceit? The lies?Why?What did I do that was sowrong?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Jemma murmured uselessly. Ryan didn’t move to hold her as the tears cascaded down her face. He would have done once. Would have always been there for her, but she hadn’t wanted him, couldn’t bear him near her, his pain and his grief only exacerbating hers. ‘When did you know?’ she asked him, swallowing back the knot of guilt expanding in her throat.
He glanced away. ‘About the affair? A while,’ he said with a disconsolate shrug. ‘It might have been an idea to delete the texts he sent you every five minutes, you know?’
She could feel his humiliation, the heat from his eyes as he looked back at her.
‘Did you want to be with him?’
She shook her head.
‘Right, so you were heartbroken at his funeral because…?’
Confused, she squinted at him. ‘He died, Ryan, horribly.’
‘Yeah.’ Ryan shrugged again, indifferent, and turned towards the stairs. ‘And as far as I’m concerned, the bastard deserved all he got.’
Jemma’s head snapped up. ‘Ryan?’ She followed him, dread pooling in her stomach. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked as he thundered down the stairs. ‘Ryan! What are yousaying?’
He didn’t answer, didn’t look back.
‘It was an accident!’ she shouted, over the slam of the front door. ‘He fell!’
Thirty-Nine
Kimberley
Kim was walking back through the playing fields behind the gym towards the main road. Her mind on Cassie, wondering how she was managing to remain so together after all that had gone on; she didn’t take much notice of the man walking behind her, until he started whistling. It was a bit of an odd melody for this time of year.
Rain was beginning to spit down, and a chill ran through her as he whistled on, ‘Auld Lang Syne’echoing mournfully across the open ground. Scanning the field, only to realise she was alone apart from him, she glanced back and her heart stopped dead. She stared hard at him, and slowly her heart started pumping again. He was the same height, the same colouring, wearing a similar leather jacket to the one she’d last seen Josh in, but it wasn’t him. She was imagining things, ‘Auld Lang Syne’ and her guilty conscience conjuring up his ghost.
His hands thrust deep in his jacket pockets, the man stared back at her. Kim was about to say something, anything to break the ice, but there was something about the intent way he was looking at her, his face hard and expressionless.
Acutely aware of what she was wearing – leggings and a cropped sports top, the tracksuit top she’d been about to put on still in her sports bag – she turned round and walked on. Panic took root when he recommenced his whistling, and she quickened her pace and fumbled for her phone in her bag. God, wherewasit?
Glancing quickly back again as she pulled the bag from her shoulder, she realised he was keeping up with her. Following her.
She dug deeper in her bag, a hard lump clogging her throat. She held it by one handle, delving in the pockets and right to the bottom, and finally her hand met hard plastic. She yanked the phone out and glanced over her shoulder once more.Shit.He was gaining ground.
She looked towards the gate. It was miles off.Shit. Shit.Her chest hammering, she veered to the right, breaking into a run towards a hedgerow at the perimeter of the field. He was still behind her. She dropped her bag and ran faster. He came after her, shouting something, Kim couldn’t hear what. Pressing her thumb hard to her phone, cursing the cheap casing, she struggled to switch the bloody thing on.
She was almost at the hedgerow. The road into the town centre was just beyond it. There would be people, cars.
‘Oi!’ he yelled behind her. ‘What yer running for? I was chasing my dog, not you!’
What dog? Kim hadn’t seen a dog. Did he have a lead? Not daring to look back, she sprinted on, through the thicket fronting the hedgerow, ready to launch herself over it.
‘Silly cow,’ the man threw after her. ‘Do yerself a favour, luv. You’ll cause yourself an injury.’
Kim’s heart hammered. He’d stopped a few yards off and was turning around, walking away. Her legs weak from the exertion, trembling with fear, she resisted sinking to her haunches. Keeping her eyes fixed on him, she made her way along the hedge until she spotted a gap big enough to squeeze through.
