Buying the Virgin

Chapter 74: The Girl Who Came Back - Chapter Thirty

“Yes, it was all true. I’ve never lied to you about anything. There were just things that…. I couldn’t….”

I trail away…. my supply of words exhausted.

Richard looks at me under lidded eyes. “And in all that time, no-one queried you about the death of this

man?”

I almost whisper. “No. And I never dared ask.”

“What was his name?”

“We just knew him as Supervisor Jenkins.”

“And this all happened, when?”

I count backwards. “Er… about nine years ago.”

“And you’ve told no-one about this since then?”

I shake my head.

My Master is staring at me. “Charlotte, why not? Didn’t you feel you could tell me? Didn’t you trust me

enough? Or Michael?”

“Oh, I do trust you. I do. Both of you.… but…. but.… I tried, but the words wouldn’t come out. And it

was sort of locked away in my head. I never thought about it if I could. Not until I saw that model of the

City, and what was happening in my old neighbourhood… then it all started coming back….”

I stand up, gathering my nerves, still trying to control my breathing. Head held high, my chest heaving, I

lock eyes with Haswell. “So, what happens now? Have I made myself too much of a nuisance at last?

You want me to get my stuff and go?”

He regards me, over steepled fingers.

“No. I want you to call Michael and go with him. I need to talk with James here, make some phone

calls.”

He addresses my Master. “You’ve been staying at the beach house?”

“Yes.”

“Get Michael to take her back there. I want to be able to say that I know where she is.”

My Master nods, silently, then calls Michael, talking to him urgently but quietly. Strain as I might, I

cannot pick out their words.

Waiting for Michael to arrive, I sit sipping water. Haswell says nothing, simply tapping at his keyboard,

reading his screen, occasionally glancing over at me.

My Master paces up and down, not speaking.

I speak quietly, trying to speak only to him. “Master, I’m sorry. I tried to tell you when you asked me at

the site, but…. I couldn’t …. I just couldn’t….”

Haswell clearly does hear me, but aside from a quick glance my way, says nothing, I think trying to give

us a privacy we cannot have.

My Master’s face twists between compassion, anger, and frustration. “You picked a hell of a way to

break your silence, Charlotte.”

I stare at the floor, sipping my water, waiting…

There is a knock, and the door bursts open. It is Michael. He strides straight up to me, scoops me up

under the arms, and lifts me into his embrace, rocking me back and forth, face pressed to mine.

Michael’s sympathy is finally too much for me, and I burst into tears.

“Get her out of here.” says my Master. “Take her to the beach house. I’ll be in touch later.”

Michael nods acknowledgement and, taking my hand, leads me to the door. Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

As we are about to exit the office, my Master says, “Charlotte, don’t run.”

I bite back a sob. “I won’t. Whatever happens now, I just want it to happen. I want my life back.”

*****

Driving, Michael doesn’t say much, simply glancing at me occasionally, stroking my leg when he has a

free hand.

Back at the house, I sit, staring out to sea. Michael puts food in front of me. I don’t eat it, my stomach

roiling.

That night, my sleep is haunted, broken by nightmares.

Run….

Run…. Where?

Anywhere…. Just run….

Look back…. Is he there….? Run.…

Faces. The crowd. The tumult of the City. Thousands of faces, all around me…. all strangers...

Run….

Dodge the traffic. Car horns blaring. Taxi drivers, screaming abuse at me…

Keep running….

The knife!

Oh God! I’ve still got the knife…

My hand… Blood…. The blade, bright, sharp…

Dripping…

Run…….

“Charlotte…. Charlotte!”

I wake, panting, sweating. There is a face over me in the dark, shaking me at the shoulders, and I

cringe back.

It is Michael, jolting me out of my dreams. I see the hurt, the bewilderment, in his eyes, as I shrink from

him.

Then, wrapping his arms around me, he rocks me back to sleep.

*****

The following day, he phones my Master. “I’d like to take Charlotte out, up into the mountains. I think a

change of air will be good for her. I’ll bring her back here afterwards. Is that going to cause any

problems? Fine… Yes, I will…”

He takes my hand. “Let’s go and relax, eh.”

*****

We walk, Michael holding my hand, along a wild track, high in the mountains. Rambling between forest

and green meadows which slope down to the lake, just being here is a balm to my black mood. And

Michael, with his unconditional support, and lack of pressure, is soothing company.

We sit on an old stump. Michael pours me coffee from a flask, which I accept, then offers me a

sandwich, which I do not.

“Thanks, I’m not hungry.”

“Charlotte, you’ve got to eat, or you’re no good to anyone, least of all yourself.” He presses the food

onto me. Reluctantly I take it, fighting my churning stomach, to choke down small bites.

Nonetheless, the walk calms me. Clouds scud across the sky, casting light and shade across the

meadows. The lake sparkles in the sunshine, the waters rippling with a shimmering light in the brisk

breeze. Breathing deeply, the early autumn mountain air tastes good: of pine and snow.

“It’s real soul food, this place, isn’t it?” says Michael, lacing his fingers into mine.

I nod. Then, trying to find something pleasant to talk about, “Is this where we came before? To the

cabin? It looks familiar, but not quite.”

“Yes, it looks different from here, because the lake dog-legs around the mountain over there,” he says,

waving down to where the waters disappear from view around the hillside. “We’re looking at it from a

different angle. The cabins and the hotel are just over there….” He waves back through the trees.

Craning around, I can just see buildings through the trees.

“It’s a bit ramshackle looking. I don’t remember it looking like that.”

“No, we’re around the back side of it. I think they ran out of money for their renovations. They don’t get

so many tourists up here, the last few years, after the Crash.”

We munch sandwiches in silence for a while, then he says, “Charlotte. I can’t begin to guess what’s

going through your head right now. You must feel that all your worst dreams have returned to haunt

you, but understand this: if your worst fears were to come true, and I don’t believe they will, but if they

did… I will be here for you. I won’t go anywhere. You will never not have a future. Do you understand

me?”

I fight back tears, and the tightness in my throat, nodding.

He continues. “And if it’s a case of needing lawyers, James and I, between us, can afford the best….

you’re not on your own in this.”

“Are you angry with me?”

He stalls. “Charlotte, I can’t deny that I’d have been happier if you had spoken sooner, or in other

circumstances, but I do understand that there were reasons…. and however inconvenient James may

find this, it has an upside.”

“Which is...?”

“Haswell has a lot of friends, or at least, a lot of people who owe him. If he’s helping you, you couldn’t

have a better ally.”

My voice small, “Do you want your ring back?”

“No.”

“I thought maybe you wouldn’t want….”

“No. And that’s the end of it.” There is a finality to his voice.

I chew my food endlessly, trying to swallow. In the end, I put the sandwich down, hoping that Michael

doesn’t notice.