‘Other than how you feel, are you healthy, Lorna?’
‘I’d say so. I walk the dog or go to the gym most days.’
‘Your husband has quite a history with the police. He’s been arrested for attacking you twice previously, hasn’t he?’
‘Yes. But this is the first time I’ve spoken to your organization.’
There was a brief pause. Lorna heard the putter of typing on a keyboard.
‘Do you and your husband have any other problems?’
‘No, but money’s tight. He had a very good job as a salesman with a tech firm, but when he got done for drink-driving and lost his licence, he lost his job. He got another job with this firm in Burgess Hill, but at much less money, so he’s not contributing much.’
‘How else does he treat you?’
‘He’s very controlling. He calls and texts me throughout the day, wanting to know what I’m doing, who I’m seeing, and why I’m not at home whenever I go out. It’s driven me to getting a second phone he doesn’t know about, so he can’t track me all the time.’
Cassandra Montagini said, ‘Lorna, from what you have told me I think we need to get someone out to you to complete a proper risk assessment. Would you be comfortable with that, and, if you are deemed high risk, that I refer you to an Independent Domestic Violence Advisor?’
‘Um — well, I–I don’t know. Yes, I suppose I’d be fine with that,’ she said, hesitantly. ‘Actually, I’d be very grateful.’
‘Perhaps we should consider moving you somewhere else, before your husband is released? How would you feel about that?’
‘I–I — can’t — I’ve got clients booked in to see me — I can’t let them down. And we have all these tropical fish — I — he has — he has to look after them — I mean he — and I have — six tiny puppies.’
‘Your safety is the most important thing at this stage, Lorna.’
‘Yes, thank you, I appreciate that. But I can’t leave — not at the moment. Not until the puppies are old enough in a few weeks — they’ve all been reserved. But I have to keep them until they can go to their new owners.’
‘All right, what I’ll do is have an advisor call you as soon as possible. Are you going to be in for a while?’
‘I am, yes, until around lunchtime.’
As soon as the woman ended the call, Lorna read the text that had come in on her new private phone. Very few people had the number.
Instantly, her spirits lifted a little.
Only to be dashed again, moments later, by another incoming email on her laptop from the current bane of her life, Mr Nasty.
I’m not going to go away, so you had better reply, because you are going to have to speak to me again eventually. You’ve had your telephone company block my calls. But not only do I know where you really live, I know what’s going on in your other place, your secret place, your nasty, dirty little secret place. Might be worth offering me a refund for that reason alone. I’m running out of patience, Mrs Belling.
10
Wednesday 20 April
It had all been so naughty back then — so deliciously naughty! The clandestine meetings in their secret love nest, a tiny, shabbily furnished studio flat. Snatched hours whenever they could both get away, breathless with the excitement of seeing each other, and both feeling the terrible wrench each time they parted.
The flat was on the third floor of a dilapidated apartment block on Hove seafront, overlooking the King Alfred leisure complex. They didn’t care that the lift never worked, that the entrance hall and stairwell smelled of damp, nor that the wiring was a fire hazard. All that mattered was they had somewhere to meet, with a double bed — albeit a bit rickety — a little fridge where they could keep wine chilled, and a bathroom where they could freshen up before returning home to their respective spouses. She’d made it look as homely as she could, with a couple of framed photographs of themselves, scented candles, and a sheepskin rug on the floor.
Lorna had found it and it was ideal for many reasons. It was an easy location for them both to get to, with plenty of parking in the side streets. The rent, which they shared, was cheap as chips, because the building was due to be refurbished as part of the redevelopment of this whole area, and the landlord, happy to accept cash monthly, didn’t ask any questions. A big bonus was that nothing overlooked it. They were private.
Not, Lorna thought, that she and Greg would have been here for much longer. When they’d originally taken it, believing his promises, she’d figured it would be for a few months only until he left Belinda, and they’d find a proper home together. The months had dragged into a year, then a year and a half. But not any more, oh no. Soon Greg and this place, which once she had loved but now hated so much, would be history.
And that numpty with his vile emails and pathetic hint at blackmail — he’d be history soon, too.
As would Corin.
She had her own plans now, a decision she’d made over the past weekend after discovering the truth about Greg. She was going to visit her sister, Melanie, in Australia and look into the possibility of making a new life there. Mel was a year younger, but they had always been so close they could be twins. Recently divorced from a wealthy stockbroker, and living in a gorgeous beachfront house in Tamarama, Mel was having a ball. And imploring Lorna to come out and join her.
Well, she had made up her mind, and she was off. Going to start a new life. Without Corin’s knowledge she had started putting up for sale, through eBay and Gumtree, everything she possessed of any value — jewellery, handbags, the Cartier watch she’d inherited from her mother. She’d originally advertised the car because she needed a more practical vehicle for the dogs. But now she wasn’t going to need a replacement and the cash would be useful.
There had been a big hiccup on that particular sale, but hopefully it would soon be sorted.
The puppies were going to be fine, she’d already taken deposits for all of them, and over the next few weeks they would be gone to their new homes. Someone her best friend Roxy knew, whose dog had recently died, was keen to take the puppies’ mother. Sorted. Nearly. Very nearly. Her excitement was growing by the day, helping her get over her anger towards Greg. Every few hours she would go online and google Sydney. Staring at the stunning views of Tamarama Beach and neighbouring Bronte, Bondi and Coogee. And at the Sydney waterfront. The blue ocean, the brilliant sunshine.
The sunshine that Corin, a total mood hoover, seemed to suck out of the sky. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d noticed the sun shining when she had been with him. Greg had changed that, he had put the light back into her life. Until...
Until...
Standing in her dressing gown, preparing herself for her confrontation with the bastard, she stared out at the ominously dark sky and falling rain, feeling the draught through the window and listening to the constant rumble of traffic along Kingsway down below. Stared at the dreary, crumbling red-brick edifice of the King Alfred — the pool where she had learned to swim as a child. Then around at the tiny room. The worn carpet was pink — old-lady pink, as Greg had jokingly called it. The walls were knobbly Artex and the ceiling was the colour of nicotine. The sagging double bed had a fake-fur throw she’d bought when they first got the place; there was a two-seater sofa, an armchair with a busted spring and a tiny kitchenette with a breakfast table. Through louvre doors was a bathtub, also in old-lady pink, with a hand-shower with a rubber hose that you stuck over the taps, a matching washbasin and loo.