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  "Ah Paul... Poor, bloody Paul. Would you like the abridged version or the unabridged version?"

  "Well, seeing as I've got a great deal of time, the unabridged." It was obvious from Rebecca's facial expression that this period was still difficult to talk about. She took a long sip of her champagne.

  "Paul and Genie were dating for a few years before we met," she said with a sigh. "In fact, he had proposed to her the very same day we met. It was a kind of instantaneous attraction for us. Don't get me wrong, we never made any excuses for what we did — it was a despicable thing to do to someone and we have no one to blame but ourselves for our behaviour — but we couldn't help ourselves. Well, that's a lie; we could have prevented it from happening, but we chose not to and as a result a lot of people got hurt — especially Paul. He went through a lot. He was angry at her deception and the humiliation of her leaving him for another woman; angry that the trust he thought the foundation of their relationship was built on turned out to be a pack of lies." Rebecca took another sip and then continued.

  "Things got nasty, people took sides — mostly Paul's, especially all of her family and friends — and when she finally peeled off the mask about her sexuality and told them she was staying with me, she just stopped hearing from any of them altogether. If she called, they either wouldn't take her call or they'd say they would call her back but never did. She finally got the message and stopped calling them as well. And then out of the blue Paul's invitation turns up..."

  "...on the day that Genevieve was attacked," Isabel finished for her.

  CHAPTER 12

  SO FAR, APART FROM a couple of hitches at the beginning, Paul's plan was working out perfectly, he happily reported to Genevieve's parents. He couldn't help but feel happy and optimistic about how the last few weeks had panned out. Due to fate, Genevieve was back in his life and so long as she couldn't remember her past in the near future, she would remain there.

  He had been very careful and skilful at enveloping Genevieve in a bubble of security. With her parents backing him, it was only a matter of time before she had the wedding ring on her finger, and regardless if she finally remembered Rebecca, it would be too late. The deed would have been done.

  "She does seem more content these days," Elsie said, putting two cups of tea on the table for Eddie and Paul.

  "So, what's the next step then?" Eddie asked Paul, completely ignoring what Elsie had said.

  "Well, I think it's best if I broach the subject of marriage again. It will give her a sense of security," Paul said, sipping his tea.

  "Yes, I think you're right. Has she mentioned that woman again?" Eddie asked, not even attempting to hide his disdain.

  "No, not a word. There's no reason for her to either; I try to keep her mind in the present as much as possible. We don't talk about her life in London."

  "I'd hardly call it a life," Eddie said. The doorbell rang and Eddie went to see who it was. Paul heard his name being called from the hallway.

  "Can you give me a hand?" Eddie asked, nodding toward the delivery driver who was unloading boxes. "It's Genevieve's stuff."

  "I'd be more than happy to," Paul said, trying to conceal his elation.

  Long after his break-up with Genevieve, when the humiliation had given way to anger, Paul knew the time would come when he'd get his own back on Rebecca. He had made no threats, no demands, no begging phones calls. He had left them to get on with their seedy lives and had internalised his rage. He drank whiskey like there was no tomorrow, he slept with countless faceless women and discarded them the next day as if they were merely rubbish. He painted dark, violent images until his arms ached and he could no longer hold a paintbrush.

  If it wasn't for the intensity of his rage he would have curled up and died. He never knew that the human mind could hurt so much; that somebody could inflict a pain that felt like a knife being plunged into you again and again as the endless images of Genevieve and Rebecca ravaged his already tormented mind. Then Genevieve's star just got brighter. Her art reviews were now in the popular media, no doubt pushed there by her association with Rebecca. She was no longer in contact with her parents or any of their mutual friends, so it was hard to find out what was happening in her personal life, whether she was happy or not.

  It was Genevieve's parents who had lit the path for him to find his way back.

  After not returning their calls for several months he had bumped into Elsie by accident. It was early in the day and he was drunk. She persuaded him to go home with her so they could talk. Several hours later, after a hot bowl of homemade chicken soup and lots of water, the three wounded souls sat together and grieved over the loss of Genevieve. For the first time since it had happened, he cried until his body shook uncontrollably. For hours, Elsie held him in her arms and comforted him the best she could.

  "You've got to understand, Paul, Genevieve is blinded by an illusion. It's not real, what she thinks she feels. A hotshot critic showed her a little attention and she got carried away with the emotion of it all. Now that she's amongst those kinds of people, she thinks their behaviour is acceptable," Elsie explained.

  "Elsie is right, Paul," Eddie added. "It's that group mentality thing where because a group of people is doing it, you think you may as well do it too. She was most probably frightened of settling down just yet. Paul, I know my daughter and I'm telling you now: There is no way on this earth that girl is a homosexual — it's just not possible. Homosexuality is an abomination to the natural human reproductive process. Humans are not supposed to be attracted to the same sex. Our bodies were designed perfectly for one male and one female.”

  "Why is she still with her then?" Paul asked with a childish whine.

  "Because she's not well, Paul," Elsie said gently. "And it doesn't help that she's dazzled by the lifestyle of these people. Remember the saying; The road to Hell is paved with gold? Well, I thought we had taught her better than to be materialistic, but she's always been an impulsive girl, you know that."

  "It's a wicked disease, this homosexuality. The victims of it believe there isn't a cure for it — if only they would just trust in the Lord to show them the light. That's where the problem lies: No faith," Eddie said, shaking his head. "And the victims are brainwashed into thinking that it is completely natural and that it's okay, but it's not okay," he said angrily, "especially when it's my daughter!" He thumped his hand down on the table, sending a shudder that caused the cups to lift off their saucers.

  "You spent a lot of time with her. Did she ever show any kind of inclination of that sort before?" Elsie asked, trying to diffuse her husband's anger.

  "No, never." Paul shook his head. "We were happy — or so I thought. She had never complained."

  Emotionally drained, Paul had spent the night in Genevieve's old bedroom. In bed, he pressed his nose against the pillow, inhaling deeply to see if he could get a scent of her, such was his desperation. The next morning he woke up knowing it was time to move on. He was determined to drive out the demons that dwelled within. He quit drinking, and with a plan of action in his mind, he no longer felt as if he were drowning. He had finally, slowly, begun to swim.

  CHAPTER 13

  EDDIE SAT TRANSFIXED in his chair with teeth clenched tight, his hand gripping a glass of whiskey so hard his knuckles were white. Though he appeared quite still on the outside, inside he was like a raging volcano. He could not believe this was happening to his family. This disastrous situation had changed all of their lives forever. He recalled memories of Genevieve growing up — she had wanted to follow him everywhere and he loved nothing more than turning around and finding her there, looking up at him with those eyes that could melt anybody's heart. He knew he would lose her one day, as every father does when a daughter flies the family nest and settles down to make her own family, but he had certainly never envisioned it would be to a woman.

  When Genevieve had brought Paul home, Eddie had been taken with him immediately. He was a good Christian young man, had respect for him and
Elsie, and was a hard worker. He was bitterly disappointed and disgusted with Genevieve when he found out she had left Paul for Rebecca. That she had chosen to turn her back on her family and their values for a woman she had only just met was beyond his comprehension.

  "Do you think this is plan of ours is going to work?" Elsie asked from across the room.

  "Of course it will work," Eddie snapped. "We have complete control over her. How can it not work?"

  "But what if she remembers?" Elsie asked meekly.

  "She won't," Eddie scoffed. "She is going to marry Paul and that will be the end to all of this nonsense. Look at how happy she is! If she was that way inclined, do you really think she would be seeing Paul again? Facts speak for themselves."

  "She will make a lovely bride," Elsie beamed.

  "Yes, she will," he said, his anger momentarily subsiding to share in her fantasy. "Paul knows what he's doing."

  "What are we going to do about... the problem?" Knowing that she couldn't bring herself to say Rebecca's name, Eddie answered as if she had said it.

  "It will go away eventually, don't you worry. People like that don't have the staying power," Eddie responded with a sneer.

  "What have you done with all the letters she sent?"

  "Put them exactly where they deserve to be – in the bin." Elsie nodded, adding, "I forgot to ask you... When you went through Genevieve's things earlier, had that woman tried to slip anything in there?"

  "No, nothing, although I did delete all the pictures from her digital camera of her and that deviant," Eddie said, taking a large gulp of whiskey to quell the rage that was beginning to rise to the surface once more.

  "Yes, that was close. I think the main worry we have at the moment is Paul's show. I'm very concerned about that," she said meekly.

  "Yes, I know," Eddie said without looking up from his drink. "We'll have to ask Paul what he's intending to do about it."

  "Well, I think it's invite only, but that's not very reassuring. In her line of business, she can easily wangle an invitation."

  "Then we're going to have to make sure we're with Genevieve every second of the evening. We're not doing such a bad job of keeping them apart now, are we?" he asked triumphantly.

  "No, but she may ask more questions about where she lived."

  "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," he said crossly, looking down at his empty glass. "Now, are you going to get me another drink or am I going to have to get out of my chair?"

  "Sorry, yes dear," Elsie said as she scurried across the room to the drinks cabinet. They were both startled by the sound of the front door shutting. Laughter echoed through to the living room.

  "Mum? Dad? We're back," Genevieve called.

  "We're in here, love," Elsie called back whilst refilling Eddie's glass.

  The living room door swung open and Genevieve and Paul bounded in.

  "Did you have a nice time?" Elsie asked as she sat back down.

  "Brilliant!" Genevieve's voice was shrill and threaded with excitement. "We went to the most amazing art show and Paul knew the artist so we all went for drinks afterwards."

  "Would you like a drink, Paul?" Eddie asked whilst Genevieve recounted the night's events to Elsie.

  "Whatever you're having, thanks." Elsie went to the drinks cabinet again and poured him a generous amount of whiskey.

  "Elsie, why don't you go and rustle up something to eat for these kids?" Eddie asked authoritatively. Elsie got the message and asked Genevieve to help her in the kitchen. When they had gone, Eddie asked Paul to pull up a chair near his.

  "Paul, I've got to tell you — I'm pretty concerned about your show."

  Paul smiled.

  "There's nothing to worry about, Eddie."

  "But what if she turns up?" he responded tensely.

  "I'd be pretty offended if she didn't."

  "What!" Eddie bellowed, his face turning scarlet. "Are you insane?"

  "Eddie, she's one of the best reviewers in the country, so it would look a bit odd if she wasn't there. In fact, I'm banking on her being there to seal the deal," he said, feeling quite happy with himself.

  "What are you going on about?" Eddie said as he started pacing the room.

  "I'm not silly enough to think I can keep Genevieve away from her forever. I know there's going to be a time — either now or in the future — when she's going to ask about Rebecca. The more of a mystery she is to her, the more she'll want to find out, so I am going to show her Rebecca and let her see that there is nothing about this woman that she would want or need." Eddie sat down again.

  "Isn't that a bit risky Paul? I don't trust that woman. We can't let her get her claws back into her and start warping her mind again."

  "Look, Eddie," Paul said, putting his hand on Eddie's shoulder, "if Genevieve was a lesbian," Eddie flinched at the word, "I would be worried, but she's not, and I've managed to get Genevieve to believe in our life together now, so why would I worry about her meeting her again? And anyway, I want her to be there for another reason," he said with a smile.

  "What's that?" Eddie asked with a quizzical look on his face.

  "I want her to be there when I ask Gen to marry me again."

  CHAPTER 14

  NEWLY BUILT LUXURY apartments stood next to slick-looking cafés, making the large, grey building on the corner look ugly and out of place. Isabel's office was on the fifth floor, and there was no lift in the building. She'd lost count of how many times she had been up and down the stairs on any given day, but she did know that there were exactly ninety-eight steps until she reached her floor. The stairs wouldn't have been that bad had the final destination been worth it, but it wasn't. A dimly lit corridor with low sagging ceilings led to a small, airless, cluttered office, which she shared with four other officers. Footprints were worn into the old carpets, handprints were smudged on the dreary walls, and the only window in the office was cracked. She'd had to patch it up with masking tape to try to prevent the cold air getting in.

  As with the whole building, the office looked like it was on its last legs, in fact she was positive that the conditions they were working under were illegal, but since health inspectors had deemed the place fit for human habitation, there was nothing she could do about it. She'd placed several large plants around the edges of her desk for privacy and long ago managed to block out the dreary conditions. She was grateful her work — it took her out of the office most days — but she was having problems with Genevieve's case. When it was first assigned to her she thought it would be open and shut, but she could not have been more wrong.

  The victim was a lesbian, according to Rebecca, so was it a homophobic attack, was it a mugging, or was it an assault? Despite the police efforts of canvassing the immediate area and a police board stationed where the incident took place, nothing had become known. The only thing she was sure of was that the attack had not been sexual in its nature.

  It was unbelievable that no one had seen anything. The embankment should have been busy that morning with tourists and workers alike, but sods law, that stretch just so happened to be empty at the time — either that, or people just weren't coming forward. There were reports of people walking on the street above the embankment hearing loud voices, but in their haste to reach their destination, no one had bothered to look over the wall to see what the commotion was about. There was no physical evidence at the scene that would have pointed Isabel in any direction. Now, two months later, they were no nearer finding the culprit than they were then and she felt the mounting frustration that was always present when she had a case she couldn't close.

  While she had been waiting for something to break in the case, she had managed to build a picture of who this woman was through family and friends and, of course, the victim's partner, Rebecca. It was difficult for Isabel to work on a case where her emotions were involved. It had never happened before and she was grateful for this. Seeing Rebecca on a purely friendship basis was not really going against the rules as Rebecca was not
a suspect in the case, so she was not really directly involved with it.

  Isabel took out Genevieve's file from the cabinet and sat down at her desk. She flicked through it, stopping occasionally to carefully analyse each page as though it was the first time she had seen it. The first few pages were photographs of the crime scene followed by close up images of the injuries Genevieve had sustained. She didn't know whether it was seeing the images again or lack of food that made her stomach feel queasy. It never failed to amaze her that people could hurt someone and just walk off not knowing or caring if that person lived or died. Every new officer to the team was advised that they would get to see the worst side of humanity in the course of their chosen profession and they would get used to it and just move on, but Isabel never did. Each new case shocked her as much as the last one. Whether it was a rape, domestic violence, or anything that involved someone being hurt or killed, it still affected her.

  She spread the photographs on her desk, looking intently at them, trying to see if anything was out of place. She carefully analysed the pictures of the crime scene, especially the position where Genevieve had fallen. There wasn't much to go on there. She had been found lying near the pathway wall, blood oozing out of an open wound at the back of her head. It was obvious the attack was deliberate.

  Why did Genevieve change the time of her appointment at the last minute? She had to be meeting someone she knew. There were so many questions and the only person who could answer them didn't even know who she was, let alone who had attacked her. Isabel quickly scanned the doctor's report, skipping the medical jargon that went way over her head. What bits she did manage to decipher had to do with the victim's amnesia and the facial injuries she had sustained. There were no other injuries to body; no defence wounds to suggest she had struggled with an assailant.

  The forensic report obtained from the Forensic Science Service also offered little in the way of evidence. None of the matter beneath her fingernails had produced a DNA profile other than her own. The spots of blood at the crime scene also all belonged to Genevieve. From the injuries she sustained and the blood on the wall, they concluded that she had been hit in the face, causing her to fall against the wall with a great force. Her laptop had also been forensically analysed. Isabel was always amazed at the advances in technology. Even if someone deleted the hard drive off a machine, it could still be retrieved at a later date using specialist software. In Genevieve's case, there were no emails or messages that showed she was meeting with anyone.