Grimacing then smirking, he doesn’t break stroke, instead he speeds up, intensifies how forcefully he moves me on top of him. My fingers curl into his shoulders as I let myself go, allow him to take me, move me, fill me, pound at me until I can feel the pleasure rushing through my bloodstream, careening and galloping, going on and on until I throw my head back, bite down hard on my bottom teeth and let the orgasm flood through me, through every part of me and into Evan, as he stops mid-thrust and silently, almost violently, comes with me.
Minutes later, Evan says, ‘Gold standard, huh?’ He’s composed himself, redressed himself and gathered me in his arms.
I’ve missed this these past few days, I’ve missed the closeness that’s always been effortless between us. Even after we split up and got back together, cuddling and holding each other wasn’t an issue.
‘That’s what the other Witches say.’
‘I’m glad the outside world can see how perfect we are for each other.’
‘Let’s not do this again, Evan, OK?’ I say.
‘What, you don’t want to have sex any more?’
‘No, silly. The other thing. Where we fall out and just sort of drift apart. Let’s not do that again. Because it doesn’t have to be rowing that splits people apart: it’s not talking, it’s letting the resentments grow until they’re insurmountable.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘We are the gold standard, after all.’
‘Yes, we are. But, Serena . . . I have to tell you, it’s always going to be the kids before you. You know that, right?’
‘Yes, it’s always been the kids before you for me, as well. But . . .’
‘But?’
‘But this thing with Verity is complicated by so many factors. And until we know what’s going on, I’m just . . . Faye told me that I’m seeing me in her so I’m being harder on her than I normally would be.’
‘She’s right. And that’s sort of what I mean. I’m not completely closed off to the idea that she might have done it.’ He lowers his voice to say that in case she can hear down the corridor. ‘But until I know otherwise, my daughter is innocent until proven guilty. And it doesn’t matter who says otherwise. Not even you.’
He’s right, of course. Just like Faye was right. ‘Yes, I agree. I’ve got to stop thinking she’s me.’
‘Yes, you do. She’s going to need you. Not only because you’re her mum but also you’ve been there. You need to remember what it was like and how scary it was. And what you wanted from your parents when it was happening to you.’
‘You’re right,’ I say to him. ‘You’re absolutely right.’
‘Wow, I should buy a lottery ticket or something – you’ve just said I’m right about something.’
‘Watch it you, Gold Standard Man.’
Evan smiles before he reaches for the bedside table lamp and flicks it off. ‘Come here,’ he says and pulls me back into his arms. He gently strokes his hand down my face. ‘I love you. And I love this face. And I never want to be without you.’
‘Me, too.’
‘Go to sleep now, Sez. I know you haven’t been sleeping these past few days, go to sleep now. It’ll make everything seem so much better in the morning.’
Better is going to be impossible, but I don’t tell Evan that. Better is what we can hope for. Not as bad is probably what we’ll get.
I close my eyes and it comes to me suddenly.
Sir. Him. Marcus.
He was there today.
verity
Now
Beccie: Where’s Howie?
Beccie: He was coming to you. I know he was.
Beccie: I heard him on the phone. He was whispering, but I
heard him saying he was coming. I heard him say he loved you.
Beccie: Don’t ignore me, Verity.
Beccie: Where is he?
Beccie: Verity, where is Howie?
Beccie: The police think he’s gone on the run because he
was protecting you from your boyfriend. Where is he?
Beccie: Look, just tell me what happened. I won’t tell
anyone, not even the police. What happened?
Beccie: Did you know we were thinking of getting married? Next year.
He was saving up for the perfect ring. It’s not like him not to be in touch.
Beccie: Verity, please. I love him. He’s my
everything. I love him. I love him. I love him.
Beccie: Why don’t you at least reply. You’re so rude!!!!
My phone has been blowing up with messages all day. Actually, since the moment I left the police station and came home the messages started. Then, though, it was only one or two. Today, she must have had a cup or two of the neurotic lemonade because she has been messaging me non-stop.
‘Who’s desperate to get a piece of you?’ Dad asks as he enters the kitchen and sees my phone lighting up, the other messages lit up with it.
‘Howie’s girlfriend/fiancée/wife/babymother-to-be depending on which message you read.’
‘Beccie, her name is, yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘So why does she want you so badly?’
‘She thinks I know where he is. I don’t know where he is. Even if I did know, I wouldn’t tell her.’
Dad sets about making a cup of tea and I watch Beccie continue to meltdown on my phone. Darryl told me quite clearly that they never give people back their phones in my situation. Never. He’d been at pains to tell me this, because he wanted me to know that they were monitoring it – the police would be using my phone as a way to find out if I would try to contact Howie, if Howie would contact me, or if I would try to go and meet him. Darryl didn’t explicitly tell me not to send or reply to any texts or messages nor not to do any internet searches, nor to go anywhere that wasn’t the local shops, he just said, after the fifth time of telling me they never give people back their phones, ‘You like television and reading, don’t you? You like staying at home, don’t you?’ as a way of saying my phone would be used to track my every move.
‘You don’t like her, then?’ Dad asks.
‘That would be correct.’
‘Is that anything to do with her being the person your “friend” is in a bad relationship with?’
I am clearly as subtle as a brick. ‘What do you mean?’
‘How bad is it?’ Dad replies. He stands in front of the kettle as it starts to boil, arms folded across his chest, staring at me.
‘If I tell you, you’ll have to report it and I can’t risk that.’
‘I didn’t say I’d have to report it. I said if they were vulnerable or in danger of being immediately hurt or killed, I’d have to do something about it. How bad?’
‘It’s bad, Dad. He didn’t want me to tell anyone. He was so ashamed. The worst thing in the world for him was anyone finding out, anyone guessing what was happening.’
‘How long has it been going on for?’
‘I don’t know. He’s been having accidents for years. Told me he was mugged, bashed himself on gym equipment, fell down some stairs. So many things, all plausible. Until he was arrested for the second time for hurting her. He called me to come and get him because he couldn’t go home. That’s when he told me. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.’