If You Only Knew Page 19

  “Ben was run over…”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “That part doesn’t. But the teenager who ran him over is being prosecuted and could end up in jail. She insists that he raped her and she was trying to get away.”

  “Oh God!” She says and opens the door another inch until I can see her whole face. “I’m trying to establish precedent,” I continue hastily. “Show that this was not the first time Ben tried to assault someone. That’s why I need you.”

  She twists her lips as she bites the corner of her mouth. “Look, why don’t you come in.” She finally opens the door. “I don’t have much time though. I’m meeting my husband in an hour.”

  “Does he know?” I follow her into a small living room.

  “Yes, we were dating when it happened. He was the one who persuaded me to file the complaint.”

  She sits down on the checked sofa. “What do you need from me?”

  “I need you to testify in court.”

  “No way.” She shakes her head vehemently.

  “Please, Mary Beth,” I plead. “She could go to jail and she’s only fifteen.”

  “I don’t want anything to do with him. I put this behind me and moved on. I don’t want it haunting me again.”

  “He got her pregnant. She’s only fifteen.”

  She exhales loudly. “Oh God.”

  “She’s basically a child herself and she’s risking being locked up. You can help her.”

  “But what would my testimony do? I haven’t seen him in years, barely knew him even then.”

  “Even better. He barely knew the girl either, it was the first time he’d met her,” I explain. “Your testimony can show that he’s a predator, that Chloe had every reason to be scared of him.”

  “And I have to testify in court? Can’t I write a letter?”

  “No, I’m afraid not. You will need to be questioned. But I will prepare you, help you tell your story, make sure that you have all the answers.”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t want anyone to know.”

  “Can you tell me what happened? The complaint didn’t say much.”

  She looks away, towards the window, sitting motionless. “I was stupid,” she starts. “He was nice and offered to drive me home one evening after class. I was running late to meet my husband. Well, he was my boyfriend then. I wanted to get home in time to change my clothes. When Ben said he could drive me, I thought he was being nice.

  I got in his car and gave him my address. He drove off and we were talking about the class, about the other students, why we want to be actors. I didn’t realise that he missed the turn towards my street. And then he stopped and I looked out of the window and realised that we were at an abandoned construction site.”

  She takes a pause and closes her eyes. Then she opens them again and looks at me. “It happened so quickly. Within a second he was on top of me, forcing his hand up my skirt, squeezing me against the passenger door. I tried to push him away, but he was strong. My arms were pinned between us. I could barely move.”

  “Did he say anything?”

  “Yes, he said I wanted it. That I’d been begging for it all afternoon. That I should lie back and enjoy it. Or something on those lines, I don’t remember the exact words.”

  “Did you say ‘no’?”

  “Of course I did! I screamed and shouted but he wouldn’t get off me. Then, somehow I managed to free one arm and punched him in the face. I think I hit his nose because suddenly blood started gushing out. I didn’t stop to check. I got out of the car as quickly as I could and ran towards the main road.”

  “Did you call for help?”

  “No, I just ran home. My boyfriend was already waiting and saw that my shirt had blood on it so I told him. He tried to get me to go to the police, but all I wanted was to take a shower and forget all about it.”

  “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

  “I just wanted to forget all about it.”

  “Why did you file the complaint?”

  “I went back to the class the following week and he was there. When someone asked him about his bruised face, he said he had been punched when he went to break up a fight. After what he tried to do, he wanted to be the hero. He wasn’t even ashamed to say it in front of me. And the others were lapping up his every word. I told my boyfriend and he was so angry, I thought he’d go and find him and end up in trouble himself. He said he’d only stay put if I filed a complaint, so I did.”

  “I need you to say this in court. It can make the difference between this young girl being found guilty or not.”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t know if I can do it. Even speaking to you is hard, let alone repeating the story in front of a roomful of people.”

  “Please, it might stop him attacking someone else.”

  “Ahh, that’s not fair,” she says.

  “It’s the right thing to do. Please think about it at least.”

  “I’ll have to speak to my husband first.”

  “Please. And I can come back and talk to both of you, explain the process.” I dig into my bag and take out a business card. “This is my phone number, call me anytime.”

  Chapter 24

  “Mrs P, you seem distracted.”

  The voice seems to come from nowhere. Slapping a hand to my chest, I turn around to see Maya next to me. The smile fades from her face. “Oops, sorry for startling you.”

  “Oh, it’s no problem.” Pulling myself together, I smile at her.

  It’s two days before Christmas and with my parents in town and watching the children, I took the chance to dash out to Westfield for some last minute shopping.

  She motions to my bags. “That’s a lot of stuff.”

  “Yes,” I admit sheepishly. “I’ve gone a little overboard this time.”

  “Just this time?”

  “Ok, I’ve gone overboard as usual.”

  She laughs, a sweet sound that is contagious. She looks exactly the same as she always does, with no hint that she might know about the detectives talking to her mother.

  Her bold move still troubles me. Never would I have suspected Maya to go behind her parents’ backs like this. The realisation that I don’t know her as well as I thought saddens me but I’m consoled by the fact that Ellen didn’t see it coming either. Still, I’m overcome by a compulsion to find out more. I just don’t know how.

  “Have you come to finish your Christmas shopping?” I ask before the silence becomes awkward.

  “Yeah, need to get something for Mum.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  Maya shrugs and makes a face. “I don’t know. She’s a little fussy.”

  That’s an understatement, I think, suppressing a laugh. Ellen is what you might call strait-laced. Her clothes are prim and proper, her wardrobe mostly made up of perfectly tailored trousers and skirts and twinsets that would have looked fashionable in the 1940s. Her jewellery, while expensive, is demure. And she hasn’t changed her hairstyle since the first time I saw her. It works on her.

  “Hey, do you want some help?” My offer spills out before I know what I’m doing. This little moment of conspiracy with Maya is exciting. Now that she’s looking for me, for her mother, it seems like an even worse idea, but at the same time even harder to resist. There’s a force greater than me that makes being with Maya more important than anything else.

  “Do you have time?” she asks.

  “Yeah.” Then, moving closer to her, add: “I’m playing truant today.”

  Maya gasps and giggles. “Thanks, I’d love that.”

  We stand in the middle of the atrium surrounded by shops. People flock in and out, walking fast, laden with colourful bags. Everything is brightly lit, decorations blinking from the overflowing shop windows. Maya follows my gaze. She is biting her nails. I want to slap her hand away, tell her she’s messing up her pretty hands. But even Ellen has been unable to quash that habit. She’ll get over this phase, like I d
id when I was a few years older than her.

  “Anything that she needs? Perhaps something that she’s mentioned recently.” I say ignoring the state of her nails.

  “I really have no idea. Was planning to wander through the shops until something catches my eye. But everywhere is so crowded that I started to give up.”

  “It’s two days before Christmas. Surely you didn’t expect to have the whole place to yourself!”

  “No, but it’s a little overwhelming.”

  “You shouldn’t have left it until the last minute, kiddo.”

  The jolt to my shoulder takes me by surprise and I take a step forward to steady myself. Looking back I see a man staring back at me. It’s a familiar face. I’ve seen him before but cannot remember where. “Sorry,” he says boring down on me with dark eyes. The corners of his mouth twitch. A knowing smile. As if he knows me. Or knows about me.

  I feel suspended in time. The carols blaring from the speakers, people talking, children shouting; it all feels muffled. As if I’m under water. It could be him. Terry. Fulfilling his threats and coming to get me.

  He keeps going and I stare after him. “Do you know him?” Maya asks. With major effort, I tear my eyes from him and turn to her. Her brows are knitted together, her lips pursed.

  “I… I don’t… know,” I stutter. “Maybe someone I met in court.”

  Turning back, I try to find him, but he’s lost in the crowd. He could be anywhere by now. My hands shake and I grip the bags tightly. It’s probably nothing, I try to convince myself. Just another shopper rushing through. Nobody important.

  Chapter 25

  The McBrides’ house is bustling, as it always does at their annual Christmas Eve party. Decorations glimmer in every nook. Garlands have been hung along the banisters, mistletoe in every doorway, and there are festive cushions strewn everywhere. Ellen’s Christmas tree puts mine to shame, standing majestically in the corner of the entryway, the branches alight with baubles.

  Miles is talking to one of our other neighbours, also a surgeon. They’re discussing some new study about the best way to make an incision for quicker recovery. “Reducing blood loss is paramount.” My stomach churns and I look away, making a face. Although I’ve made strides forward in overcoming my fear of red, the thought of blood still terrifies me. Miles puts his hand on the small of my back.

  “I’m going to look for Ellen.”

  Walking through the house, I stop to talk to other neighbours. Marion Lexington’s overdone curls bob around her head as she waves me over. “How are the babies?” she asks.

  I resist the urge to point out they’re hardly babies any more. “Great, they stayed home with my parents.” Taking out my phone, I show her a few recent photos of Julian and Leah and my heart warms as she oohs and aahs over them.

  It takes a few minutes to extract myself from that conversation and I head towards the back of the house, thinking that Ellen must be in the kitchen ordering the caterers around. But instead I find Maya leaning against the kitchen counter, typing furiously into her phone. She pauses to snatch an hors d’oeuvre from a tray, popping it into her mouth. Her face is averted and she cannot see me standing in the doorway. I wonder who she’s texting or emailing. What’s going through her mind.

  I don’t know how much time has passed. Whether it’s mere seconds or minutes. I am lost watching Maya, taking in every inch of her. My mind wanders back to that first Christmas after she was born. How I tried to smile despite the deep sorrow in my heart. I had thought it would be easy to give her up. Sign the papers and move on. But it wasn’t. It isn’t.

  One of the caterers slams a tray on the counter. Maya’s head jolts up, looking around, grinning when she sees me.

  “Hey Mrs P. Want some of these?” She gestures to the tray in front of her.

  “Sure,” I respond, taking one of the crab puffs and nibbling at it slowly, wanting this moment to last forever. “Did your mum make these?”

  “Nah. But don’t tell anyone. She wants everyone to think she’s a modern day Julia Child.”

  “Well, she’s certainly closer to her than I am,” I laugh.

  “You have your strengths, Mrs P,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows.

  One of the caterers takes a tray from the fridge. Maya cranes her neck. “What are those?”

  “Stuffed olives,” he says.

  Maya makes a face. “Yukk, I cannot stand olives.”

  “Madam?” the caterer asks, looking at me.

  “No, thank you.”

  “Don’t you like olives?” Maya asks.

  “Can’t say I’m a fan.”

  “I never noticed. Have you always been like that?”

  “Yeah, I can’t remember a time when I liked them.”

  “Me too. Mum loves them and always tries to convince me to try again. She says they’re an acquired taste. But they make my stomach churn.”

  We both eye the tray of stuffed olives on the counter. Maya wrinkles her nose and I grip the counter tightly to stop the urge to hug her. “Are you going out tonight?” There’s an overwhelming desire to know exactly what Maya is doing, how she will be spending her time.

  “No, Mum wouldn’t let me.” She shakes her head in resigned desperation. “She said there would be too many weirdos out and about. At least she allowed me to invite a couple of friends. After I begged.”

  “That’s fun.”

  “Whatever, I’m used to her now.” She shrugs and takes another crab puff. “Bet you won’t be as strict with Julian and Leah.”

  Maya’s phone beeps, saving me from having to answer. “Oh, they’re here,” she says, straightening up. “Merry Christmas if I don’t see you.”

  “Merry Christmas, Maya.” I stand there, staring at the doorway, long after she’s gone, wishing that I’d had the courage to hug her.

  Guests are milling about in every room as I wander around looking for Ellen. Neighbours stop me to talk, asking me about work, about the kids, my plans for the break. I need a moment to gather my thoughts. I walk towards the closed office door, hoping for some privacy. It isn’t locked.

  As soon as I walk in I see her. Ellen is sitting in one of the wingback chairs next to the window. She’s barely visible in the shadows. Not wanting to disturb her, I take a step back, about to walk away, when she calls my name softly.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise there was anyone in here,” I tell her.

  She shakes her head and brings her wine glass to her mouth. She’s been drinking more lately and I worry that she’s going to have another full-blown relapse. As I walk towards her, I see that she’s crying. A tear rolls down her cheek, catching a ray of light coming from the dim lamp that turns it into sparkling silver. Leaning over, I take her free hand into mine, almost pulling away when I feel how cold it is. Instead I warm it between both of mine. She continues taking one sip of wine after another until her glass is empty. I wonder whether she should be getting help. But I don’t dare say anything, not even when she bends down and picks up a bottle of wine from next to her chair, filling her glass again.

  “I haven’t told Tom yet,” she says in a voice so faint that I have to strain to hear her.

  “Do you think I should have?” she adds when I don’t answer.

  “Why didn’t you tell him?” I ask her gently.

  “I didn’t want to ruin Christmas.”

  “So, you’ve decided to carry this burden all by yourself?”

  “Well, you know.”

  “He’d want you to tell him, to be able to discuss this with you, have a say in the way forward,” I say.

  She nods her head so slightly that the movement is barely visible. But I can feel the vibration going through her body. “Do you think he’ll be angry?”

  Part of me wants to protect her, help her get over this. But I also know that I have to keep a level head, keep my distance, make sure I let nothing slip. Squeezing Ellen’s hand, I say: “Of course he won’t. This isn’t your fault.”

  Our quiet c
orner is disrupted by Tom who walks in looking for his wife. “The caterers are asking what time you want to switch from savoury to sweet.” He looks bewildered to find Ellen and I locked in this sombre mood. Ellen nods, stands up and walks out of the room. But I remain in the study, not yet ready to face the rest of the crowd, wanting to remain hidden in the darkness.

  Chapter 26

  Two days later I’m home alone. My parents have taken the kids to watch a film and Miles is at the hospital. I should be working but instead I’m going through the bags of wrapping paper, deciding what should be thrown out and what can be salvaged and reused. The former pile is much bigger, I notice, smiling as I remember the sheer exuberance with which Julian and Leah tore through the colourful paper to uncover the gifts the previous morning.

  The doorbell rings. “Are you alone?” Ellen asks as soon as I open the door. She is frowning deeply, her face slightly flushed under her expensive makeup.

  “Yes.” My heart starts beating faster as immediately the fear of what Ellen has found out about me and Maya rises to the surface. “Did anything happen?”

  “I told Tom.” Relief flows through me.

  “Come on in.” Leading the way into the kitchen, I arrange the documents on the island into a neat pile.

  “What did he say?” I ask.

  She sits down with a sigh. She looks different, older, and I’m worried about the impact of this ordeal on her health. “He freaked out, accused me of hiding important things from him.” She pauses to catch her breath. “He doesn’t get it.”

  “I guess it’s quite a big thing to keep from him. Even if it was only for a few days.”

  “Not you too! Why is everyone ganging up on me?” After a beat, she collects herself. “Anyway, at least he agrees that we shouldn’t say anything to Maya.”

  “So, you’re not telling her?”

  “Don’t you agree? She’s too young and we don’t want her thinking that she has anything to do with this Larkin guy.”

  “Well, it’s obviously your decision.”

  “Ok, spit it out.” There’s an edge to her voice and her face is slightly red. “What would you do?”