Coffee had produced an exchange of mobile numbers, and by the fifth date he’d felt comfortable in Michelle’s company. With her long dark hair and lovely smile, Michelle was living proof you could be both beautiful and interesting. She was a care worker, a good listener and a budding artist. Rob thought her sketches were good enough to adorn walls.
Michelle was also modest, but her eyes shone when he praised her. Within six months they were sharing Rob’s one-bedroom flat and the bills. Life was finally looking up for a man who’d thought it was over before his sixteenth birthday. He didn’t just fall in love with Michelle – he plummeted headfirst. Rob Wallace didn’t believe in God, but he wondered if Michelle was an angel sent straight from heaven to help him.
Caesar, that dumb mutt who Rob threatened daily with extinction, seemed to agree with Rob’s assessment. He’d ceased being Rob’s dog long ago. Michelle was his boss, and he did everything in his power to stay close to her. He’d even claimed a spot on the bed between them.
Life was as good as it could be for a man as damaged as Rob Wallace. Not that everything had been wonderful in the time they’d been together. Apart from the usual niggly stuff like leaving the lid off the toothpaste and not putting the toilet seat down, there had been a few near misses. Particularly the night she’d gone out for a drink with some girls from work. Rob had felt fine when she’d left. Pleased for her to let her hair down for once. There was a football match on telly, and he’d planned to have some beers and enjoy the game.
By the time he was halfway down the second can, his good mood had slid. The flat felt as if it was suffocating him. He could barely draw breath. The football crowd sounded as if it was mocking him. Goading him. Telling him to get the Stanley knife from the kitchen drawer and slide the blade across his wrists.
He staggered to the front room window and opened it, gulping cold November air into his lungs. The cars parked on the road outside looked so small. Like toys. A sudden urge to jump out of the window gripped him. How far down was it? Maybe thirty feet. If he went headfirst, there would be no chance of survival.
How nice for Michelle, a voice in his head whispered. God knows what you’d do to someone you hate.
He closed the window and walked into the bathroom. He stared at his reflection in the mirror and held onto the basin for support. Told himself to get a grip and think about Michelle. The past didn’t matter anymore. Leaping out of a window or slashing his wrists couldn’t change that. The only person it would hurt was Michelle. Did he really want to leave her with a massive hole in her life? She was the only good thing that had ever happened to him.
‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ he said. ‘Will I ever get any peace?’
His eyes looked almost black in the mirror. The jagged scar across his neck still seemed raw. Eight years old, the scar was a constant reminder of how close he’d come to ending his life. The doctor at the hospital had told him he was lucky to be alive. Perhaps the doctor would have been less inclined to make such statements if he’d known the truth about what had made Rob want to end his suffering.
He hadn’t leapt out of the window or slashed his wrists that night. The moment had passed almost as quickly as it had arrived. Safe again. Until the next time.
Michelle walked into the kitchen rubbing sleep from her eyes. ‘What time is it?’
Rob checked his phone. ‘Nearly ten.’
‘Why didn’t you wake me?’
‘Thought you might like a lie in. How do you feel about going to Bluebell Woods for a picnic?’
‘Have we even got anything for a picnic?’
Rob shrugged. He hadn’t thought of that. ‘We could go to Tesco first.’
‘I’m not going anywhere near a supermarket on a Saturday. I want to have a nice weekend.’
‘The Eight ‘till Late, then?’
‘Maybe.’ She shuffled to the fridge and peered inside. ‘We’ve got three cans of diet coke and some limp lettuce in the chiller.’
‘Is that it?’
Michelle took out a carton of milk. She went to the side and made herself a coffee. ‘How long have you been up?’
‘Not long,’ Rob lied. He didn’t want to tell her he’d been awake since just gone four. Another nightmare. Not as bad as some of the others, but nasty enough to destroy any hope of falling back to sleep. This one had involved slowly sinking in a bog. Inch by inch. Screaming for help, but knowing no one could save him – especially the dark man standing on the edge of the bog laughing at him as he sank.
‘Do you want to come back to bed for a while?’
‘I’m not feeling up to anything right now.’
‘Oh.’
He tried to ignore the hurt in her eyes. The slight recoil as if he’d just slapped her face. ‘I want to. I really do. It’s just I’m not feeling too good today. That’s why I thought it would be nice to go to the woods and get some fresh air.’
Michelle reset her face. Gave a brief smile that didn’t touch her eyes. ‘That’s all right. I understand.’
‘Wouldn’t mind a cuddle, though.’
She walked around the table, sat on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. Kissed his cheek and treated him to a wonderful morning aroma of stale perfume and warm breath.
‘I love you so much,’ he told her as she rested her head on his shoulder.
‘You too.’
They stayed this way until a knock on the door interrupted them.
‘Wonder who that is?’ Michelle asked, untangling herself from Rob and heading off to the front door.
He listened intently as his girlfriend answered the door. He stiffened as a man’s voice said, ‘I’m sorry to disturb you. Does a Mr Rob Wallace live here?’
A slight hesitation, then, ‘Yes.’
‘Do you think I could have a word with him?’
‘Who is it?’ Rob called, standing up and hurrying into the hall.
‘My name’s Stephen Chambers. I’m a private investigator. I’ve got a message for you.’
Rob’s heart stalled. ‘A message? Who from?’
‘Daniel Sheppard.’
Rob felt the blood drain out of his face.
‘Who’s he?’ Michelle asked.
Rob gawped at Stephen Chambers as if he’d just alighted from an alien craft. ‘Danny?’
Stephen nodded. Held out a white envelope.
‘What does he want?’
The man shrugged and stroked his beard. ‘I’ve just been paid to find you and deliver it.’
‘How did you find me?’
‘A bit of research and some help from the electoral register, Mr Wallace.’
Rob took the envelope, his hand unsteady. He caught Stephen looking at the scars running across his right wrist.
Relieved of the envelope, Stephen Chambers smiled and turned away. ‘Good luck.’
Rob closed the door. He walked back to the kitchen and sat at the small pine table. The clock on the wall was still ticking, but time seemed to stand still.
Michelle sat down opposite him. ‘Rob?’
He didn’t hear her. Just stared at the envelope and flipped it over and over in his hands. He knew everything had been going too well lately. No deep, dark depressions. Enough money to pay the bills and have some left over for the nicer things in life. Plans to get married next summer. What the hell did he have to do to escape the past?