Love Me, Love Me Not: An addictive psychological suspense with a twist you won’t see coming. Katherine Debona
can.’ I said the words before they even registered in my mind. Before I even decided what it was I was offering.
‘You’ll come with me?’
I would run to the ends of time for him, but unfortunately that wasn’t the idea that chose to announce itself when I should have been thinking about nights camped out under the Milky Way with nothing but a campfire and whisky to keep us warm. How treacherous and shrewd my mind could be, almost as if it chose to punish me for something I wasn’t aware of having done.
‘I can get pregnant.’ It was something I could do that she could not. Something that set me apart, that made me indisputably better than her.
‘I really don’t see what this has to do…’
‘I can get pregnant.’ I became manic, overly excited, pawing at him like a woman possessed. ‘For you. For both of you.’
‘Well, that’s awfully kind, but I couldn’t possibly…’
Except he could. The hesitation before he spoke was enough for me to see the workings of his magnificent brain. The triumphant return, making him once more the hero in her eyes. The sacrificial lamb resuming her duties and giving the queen what her heart most desired.
‘Would you at least consider it? I mean, if she really does want a baby, then surely this wouldn’t be such a ridiculous idea?’
A small shake of his head as he scratched the tip of his nose. ‘Why would you do that, for us?’
‘Because it doesn’t make sense without you.’
I held my breath. Waited for him to reply. For him to understand what it was I was trying to tell him. Trying to apologise for my mistake all that time ago. Trying to see if this might be my opportunity to turn everything around, steer the path my way.
I don’t know if in that moment I ever truly meant to keep my promise, to see my ridiculous plan all the way to its rather bitter end. But then he did something so subtle, yet so unspeakably clever, that it took me forever to understand the weight of one sentence.
‘She feels the same. She misses you more than you could possibly know.’
She doesn’t miss you. She betrayed you.
There it was. My own private Lucifer, risen from the depths. Giving me the push I needed to throw myself in, all of me. My entire existence pulled back to her.
‘Then I should come home. Talk to her. Tell her I want to help.’
‘What about your life here?’
‘It was never going to be forever. I always knew on some level where it is I really belong.’ The idea that had started out as nothing more than a throwaway comment, a desperate bid for attention, began to germinate and bloom. Just like the life that would feed from me, that would be nurtured by my womb, so too would the plan to take back even more than I’d ever thought possible.
Because if Elle was no longer around, who would take care of my beloved? Who would take care of the baby?
Mistletoe: Celtic Druids believed mistletoe had the power to bestow life and fertility
England, six months ago
‘Here you go.’ Patrick slid my glass across the battered wooden table, a snail-like trail of foam left between us. The silver cufflinks at his wrists winked their taunt at me, the tick of his oversized watch laughing its reminder that he wore her gifts like a badge that screamed at me to stay away, not to touch. His fingers held the scent of expensive aftershave, nails displaying clipped cuticles that used to be stained with ink but now moved over a keyboard instead of paper.
I rubbed my thumb from the bottom of the glass to the top, catching the spillage before licking my skin clean.
‘Don’t tell Elle,’ I said as I took a sip, watching him as he did the same.
‘Need to know basis.’ He attempted a smile but it didn’t quite work.
‘It’s only half a pint, but she would worry.’
‘To the point of paranoia.’
I nodded my agreement.
‘Besides,’ he said in between gulps. Most of his drink was already gone. ‘My great aunt drank a pint of Guinness a day and she lived…’
‘…To be ninety-four,’ I finished for him. I knew all his stories. Replayed them over and over in my mind just to try and remember the exact intonation of his voice.
‘You could argue it’s good for the baby.’
‘But we won’t tell Elle.’ I could imagine her face if she knew what I was up to. She would accuse me of putting my own selfish needs before those of the baby. Which, of course, I was.
‘Probably best not to,’ he said, as if it was for his wife’s own good.
So many untruths, so many lies we pretend aren’t there because the words have never been said. We tell ourselves it doesn’t matter, that sometimes it’s necessary to filter out the truth, that what we do is for the benefit of others. To protect them from harm, when in fact the one we want to protect is ourselves.
Poor Elle. Poor, ignorant Elle. She has been protected her entire life, only ever shown the version of a world that is as close to perfect as it’s possible to be. But she has chosen to believe. To ignore anything that threatens to pollute her glossy existence and everything in it. The house, the car, the five-star holidays. The cleaner, the gardener, designer clothes and the three-carat diamond that catches the light as she moves. I almost feel sorry for her. Almost.
She styled their existence to its very limit, but none of it is real. Take away the money and all that’s left is two people hiding from one another because they’re so afraid to reveal the true versions of themselves.
‘I’ll be back in a minute.’ Patrick’s chair complained as he stood. A cigarette sat behind his ear, a lighter concealed in his fist. One more thing Elle chose not to see. A habit he’s supposed to have broken long ago, just like her, for the sake of their unborn child, but part of him still clings to it. A small rebellion against everything she has changed.
‘Those things will kill you.’
‘I’m tougher than I look.’
Except he’s not. We’re all just flesh that can so easily be cut, blood spewing from the wound as our hearts, the very organ that feels, that gives us meaning, pumps life from our withering bodies. For death is as certain as the setting of the sun. But we do our best to ignore it. One more lie.
Patrick rubbed at his eye, pink around the edges of contacts he has worn ever since his wife told him not to hide behind those awful plastic frames.
‘Back in a sec.’
I watched him navigate his way through the crowds of people drinking their way through whatever it was they were trying to forget. Shoulders heavy as he passed underneath an exposed beam still clinging to a few strands of Christmas mistletoe.
He was doing it for her. He never wanted kids. Not really. Then again, he never wanted the lifestyle to which Elle had become so accustomed.
Taking hold of his glass I pressed my lips to the rim, an absent kiss that activated a memory I hold most dear. At the same time my hand retrieved a tiny glass vial, hidden in the bottom of my bag, and as the glass found its spot on the table once more I emptied the contents of the vial into Patrick’s drink. My whole body was slightly off kilter, stood ready, waiting, fear and excitement tangled up together.
There was still time to undo what I had been turning around in my mind for several weeks. Still time to reconsider what I was about to do. Still time to make another choice,