The door was locked, bolted. The curtains drawn, the blinds closed. Marina wanted to keep the outside world as far away as possible. Just her, in the house, alone with her thoughts. Her fears.
And what fears. She had gone straight home without picking up Josephina from Eileen. Let her grandmother enjoy her company for a little longer. She had been shaking so much she could hardly drive, her hands barely able to grip the wheel. The car had wandered into the wrong lane on the Belgrave Middleway, and only the angry horns of fellow drivers pulled back her concentration. And all the while Gwilym’s words rang round her head.
I want to get to know you better. Much better…
I doubt that your PC Plod hubby would want the world to know what a little slut wifey is…
I brought along a little bit of proof…
She felt inside her jacket pocket. Her panties were still there. The touch of them triggered off something inside her and she ran into the bathroom, retching. She bent over the washbasin for what seemed like ages. Even though her body was empty, her stomach still kept spasming, trying to expel every bit of unpleasantness, vileness from her.
Eventually it stopped and she looked up, gasping, at her face in the mirror. She didn’t recognise the scared, tousle-haired, mad-eyed woman staring back at her. She looked like she had aged a decade since leaving the house that morning.
She splashed on cold water, towelled herself dry. Kept her face in the warm, soft fabric for as long as she could before reluctantly taking it away. She stared into the mirror. The water hadn’t improved her features. She still looked the same.
She threw down the towel, went into the bedroom. With the doors secured tight and the blinds and curtains closed, she lay down on the bed, curled into a foetal ball, tried to block out everything else and think. Let her training kick in, not give in to her emotions. Easier said than done. She closed her eyes. Breathed deeply.
Last night. The dinner. Sitting round the table, making polite conversation. She was still finding her feet with her new colleagues, sussing out who was an ally, who an enemy, who could be trusted, who couldn’t, who could be cultivated into a friend… then Hugo Gwilym had arrived.
She tried to focus, concentrate harder. Relive every part of the conversation, every gesture. Try to work out just how much alcohol she had drunk.
Answer: not much. Two glasses of red. That was it. Or as near to that as she could remember. Maybe her glass had been topped up by the serving staff and she hadn’t noticed, but it wouldn’t have been much more than that. Apart from Hugo, she thought with a shudder. He had been intent on filling her glass. But she hadn’t let him. Not too much. She had been determined not to get drunk. She was still on her best behaviour, didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of her colleagues. Didn’t want them forming a negative impression of her.
Her colleagues. Maybe one of them could shed some light on what had happened.
She took her phone from her bag, scrolled through the contacts until she found the right one. Joy Henry. The departmental administrator. She had been sitting on Marina’s other side for most of the evening. She would be able to help. Marina dialled the number. It was picked up.
‘Joy? Hi. Marina.’
She was answered by a groan. ‘Oh God… what time is it?’
‘It’s… afternoon, I don’t know. Are you OK?’
‘Didn’t make it in to work today. Feel rotten.’
‘Right.’ Marina paused, unsure of how to continue. Joy took the choice away from her.
‘You enjoyed yourself last night.’
The words caused Marina’s stomach to turn over once more. ‘Did… did I?’
‘Can’t you remember? No, neither can I much. Except…’
Marina steeled herself, fearing the worst. Joy’s voice dropped low.
‘You know that PhD student? Guy, the cute one?’
Marina knew him. And of Joy’s attraction to him.
‘Well,’ Joy said, her voice now a whisper, ‘he’s still here. Didn’t go home last night.’
‘Oh. Good.’
‘Promise not to tell?’
‘What? Yeah. Promise. Course.’
‘Good. Knew I could rely on you. What happens at the Christmas party stays at the Christmas party, doesn’t it?’
Another shiver ran through Marina. ‘What, what d’you mean?’
‘Just what I said. I can keep a secret if you can.’
‘Do you… do you have a secret to keep about me?’
Joy laughed. ‘Well, you seemed to be getting very friendly with Hugo…’
Marina’s stomach flipped once more. She felt like she was going to be sick again. ‘We were just… talking. Arguing, mainly.’
‘That’s how it starts, isn’t it? Insults. Means you really like each other. But don’t worry. I won’t tell.’
Marina wished she hadn’t made the call. ‘Joy, when I left, did I seem… I don’t know, exceptionally drunk to you?’
‘No idea. When did you leave?’
I can’t remember. She wanted to say that but, realising how bad it sounded, stopped herself. ‘I… didn’t check the time.’
‘Well I didn’t see you go. I might have left before you. I was a bit drunk and a bit preoccupied with…’ her voice dropped again, ‘you know who.’
‘Right.’ Marina sighed. It felt like a dying breath. There was a pause.
‘Have you got some gossip, then?’ asked Joy. ‘You and Hugo?’
Marina didn’t know what to say, how to answer. ‘Let’s… let’s speak soon,’ she said. ‘Enjoy… enjoy yourself.’ She hung up.
She threw the phone on the bed, flung herself down next to it.
She felt like she knew less than before she had made the phone call. She couldn’t call anyone else without her actions seeming suspicious. And Joy had had no idea. Though she probably did now.
Marina felt she had made the situation worse.
Tears began to well behind her eyes. Of anger, of frustration, of self-pity.
She thought once again of the previous night. Came up with a blank.
Had she willingly had sex with another man? Really? The recent trauma that she and Phil had been through had necessitated a move away. Could it have also triggered something in her subconscious? Led to behaviour like that, behaviour she couldn’t remember?
She had to find out what had happened, what she had done. What had been done to her. Had to. Even if the answer wasn’t the one she wanted to hear.
She lay on the bed, curled into a foetal ball, riding out the waves of tears, wondering what to do next.
Feeling so alone. So horribly, guiltily, achingly alone.