He still has some power.
There’s still a way forward.
He accelerates as he changes gear, enjoying the force of the car pushing him forward.
He likes to be in control.
And by regaining control he intends to achieve his objective.
“You may have won this battle,” he says to himself, “but my darling stepmother, you’d better believe I’m going to win the war.”
CHAPTER 17
FAYE
“Ithought I’d drive tonight,” Alistair says, gesturing to his red BMW parked on the drive. “It takes a little while to get there but it’s worth it, I promise.”
“And you don’t mind not drinking?” I step out and drape the shawl around my shoulders as the evening breeze chills the back of my neck.
“Not at all.” He grins. “Not when I’m with someone who is so fun to be around.”
I can’t help but smile at his flattery. Alistair makes a point of opening the door for me and I climb into the car. He gets in and we’re soon on the road, heading to the surprise destination.
“Is this radio station okay?” he asks.
I nod, not really listening to the music.
“You seem distracted today,” he says. “Is everything okay?”
He turns off the main road and heads away from the coast onto the darker, narrower roads that lead into the countryside.
“Course it is,” I say, making sure to smile.
“Ah,” Alistair says. “I thought maybe you were worried about the photo. I… Sorry to bring it up, but I wanted to clear the air and let you know that I saw it.”
My heart sinks. “You saw it?”
“Yes, but it’s completely fine. Please don’t be embarrassed or upset about it.”
The North York Moors loom ahead, and I wonder where we’re going as I try to control the blush crawling up my cheeks.
I clear my throat before speaking again. “The thing is… I need to explain because the context around that photo is a little complicated.”
“That’s okay,” he says. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to… it’s just that I’m not even sure what to think myself.” I shake my head. My thoughts about the situation are so broken and twisted that I don’t know how to put them into words. But Alistair is silent, waiting for me to continue. “It doesn’t make sense. I don’t remember it. And…” I sigh.
This is it. The moment of honesty. Time to tell him all about the dementia diagnosis. So why am I not saying anything?
Maybe I don’t have to tell him. If Alistair is someone who wants to live in the moment. If he’s more concerned with having fun than anything serious, then maybe there’s no need right now.
I don’t want his pity and I don’t want to ruin whatever fun we could have tonight. I can have tonight, can’t I?
“Are you okay, Faye?”
His question breaks the silence I’ve left brewing too long.
“Yes, sorry. It’s just all so strange. I honestly have no memory of that photo being taken. I met with the guy who took it and he said he saw blood on the back of my head. But I haven’t hurt my head recently. And I couldn’t find the muddy shirt in my laundry basket. And what would I be doing on Seeley Moor like that for God’s sake? I just refuse to believe it’s me.”
