Page 79

Eighteen Months Later.

Rachel

“Have a lovely evening, Lisa!” My boss shouted after me. I remembered to smile and wave just in time.

Damn, I really had to get better at this!

I had been using this name for more than a year, and sometimes I still paused longer than necessary before responding to it.

Luckily, most people just assumed I was absentminded, but I did get a couple of funny looks.

I blame Gone Girl .

People were suspicious of a woman on her own, not responding to her name, all thanks to that movie. Can’t a girl just be on the run without people accusing her of being on the run?

Nosey fuckers.

But then again, that was just my paranoia. No one was thinking “oh, there she goes again. That deranged serial killer forgetting her own name!”

I chuckled to myself as I waved goodbye to the rest of the people in the office and made my way out of the building. I took a deep breath as the fresh air hit me and closed my eyes against the warmth of the sun.

I loved this time of the year. Scotland was fucking freezing more often than not. It made me really appreciate the little bit of warmth that we got.

I pulled out my phone and quickly fired off a text before I set off in the direction of the bakery to collect the cake I had on hold with them.

I frowned at my screen as I noticed I had over ten missed calls, but I simply shrugged it off. I didn’t have time for this today; I had a million things to do, and less than half an hour to get them done. Starting with the cake.

It had been a crazy eighteen months. Sometimes, in the rare moments when I had a moment to myself, I would look back on my memories and it all seemed like it was a surreal fever dream.

If it wasn’t for my daily reminder, I’d almost believe I was crazy enough to make up my life with Dante.

Thinking about him was dangerous, and I rarely allowed myself to do so. It was impossible not to, but so long as I didn’t dwell on it, I was okay.

I was here, and I was slowly adjusting.

Scotland was home now, and I was making a small life for myself, piece by piece. I had a lovely home, a job that paid the bills, and some lovely friends. It was a good life.

But was it the life you imagined when you were laying in his arms?

That was a thought I never allowed myself to answer.

I had planned to stay in America much longer than I had. Dante had secured me a stay with the Gellers, and they were more than happy to accommodate me for a while longer. Mr Geller wasn’t as interested in me this time, for obvious reasons, and that made Mrs Geller much more pleasant to be around.

However, after just a few weeks there, I knew I couldn’t keep on pretending.

Dante had once accused me of never living, just merely existing, and that’s exactly what would have happened had I remained in America. It wasn’t my home, and it never would be. I didn’t want to go back to being that version of myself.

I didn’t say goodbye to the Gellers. I left in the middle of the night, leaving my phone behind, and that was the end of it.

If Dante was still tracing me, that was the last time he would ever know my location.

I took myself off to a hotel, and for an entire month, I spoke to no one.

I slept, I ate, I bathed, and I cried. Fuck, did I cry. Months – years – of repressed emotions came flooding to the surface, and once the dam was broken, I couldn’t find a way to make it stop.

If I wasn’t crying, I was sleeping. I hadn’t realised how tired I was, and how much the war had affected me, until I finally lay my head down and allowed myself some peace .

The crying lessened, and the sleeping increased. I slept days away, only waking to eat.

When the sleeping was done, and I was feeling more like myself – whoever I even was – I wrote.

I wrote to the Gellers and apologised for not saying goodbye.

I wished Joseph the best of luck and thanked them for their years of employment.

I might not have been happy there, but I was safe, and I was well paid.

So well paid, in fact, that a month in a hotel barely put a dent in my savings.

They took care of me, and that deserved to be acknowledged at the very least.

I wrote to my parents and thanked them for all they had done for me.

My childhood hadn’t been terrible. It had been me bringing trouble into our lives that had ruined everything.

My dad paid a high price for my freedom.

I apologised for the first time. I promised them I was okay, but that I was no longer with Dante.

I knew they would worry, but I told them to put me out of their mind.

To enjoy their retirement years. They had always said they wanted to sail the world, and since the house was gone now, they should focus on their dreams.

I wrote to Vienna and told him I had arrived in America safe and sound, and that I was okay. After all that had happened, there wasn’t much else I could say. But I knew he would pass on my brief message to those that needed it.

And finally, I wrote to Bee. I apologised for leaving her, for not being the mother she needed. I reminded her how beautiful, amazing, brave and wonderful she was.

I didn’t bother writing to Dante.

I signed all the letters with, “goodbye. Rachel.” And left no return address.

I hesitated on Bee’s and quickly added “Mummy” to the end of it.

It was selfish, and she didn’t deserve to be reminded that I had once been her mother.

But I couldn’t let that go. I couldn’t snatch it away from her.

I meant it when I told her I was hers, so long as she wanted me.

I gave her both names, Rachel and Mummy, just like I always promised her I would.

Once the letters were posted, I packed up my things and said goodbye to my old life once and for all.

I returned to the UK by boat, and threw my passport, birth certificate, and any other important documents into the sea. The final piece of the puzzle.

I said goodbye to Rachel .

Within a month of being in Scotland, I had a job, a car, and a new identity. No one asked questions. I was the definition of someone who had slipped through the cracks.

I told my boss my name was Lisa, and that I was escaping an abusive relationship.

The month of crying gave credibility to my story.

He willingly signed my new passport photo and came with me to the DVLA to get a new license.

I told everyone I had lost my documents, and with him there to vouch for me, no one seemed to care that I had seemed to appear from thin air – a stranger plucked from nothing.

No history. No family. Nothing to be traced. Just how I wanted it.

Those that did question it were paid handsomely to turn a blind eye.

Rachel was dead, and Lisa was born.

My hair was back a demure, stylish blonde, and after many painful sessions, my tattoo had been laser removed. I was slowly but surely erasing any evidence of the life I had with the Devil’s Disciples.

Apart from one.

I would treasure and guard that for the rest of my life.

My phone rang again, pulling me out of my thoughts. I pulled it out of my pocket, noticing that the number was private again.

It’ll have to wait.

I had voicemail. If it was important, they could leave a message. Right now, I had a cake to collect.

The bell dinged as I pushed open the door to the bakery, and I smiled at the woman as she lifted her head up from her phone to look at me.

“Oh, Lisa!” She hurried to put her phone away. “I didn't think you were going to make it!”

“I'm so sorry, Hayley! I had a client I couldn't get off the phone. Am I too late?”

“Not at all. Let me just go and grab it for you! It turned out stunning!”

“Thank you!” I grinned back, looking around at some of the cakes on display.

Hayley really was the best, and her attention to detail was exquisite.

Probably a bit overboard for the party I had planned, but as soon as I had seen her work, I knew I couldn’t possibly go anywhere else. No one else could have compared .

Thank God my boss had taken mercy on me and allowed me to hang up the phone!

I worked in a call centre, which wasn't the most glamorous job in the world.

Sometimes I would spend hours on the phone with these customers selling them their dream holiday.

Often I was there later than my scheduled hours, because it was forbidden to ever, ever hang up the phone.

It was exhausting and mentally draining.

But it paid the bills, which came in handy because I was too scared to touch my savings. Not now.

I hadn’t minded dipping into my savings when I was in America. And I hadn’t minded just a little here and there when I first moved back to the UK.

But it was too much of a risk now.

“What do you think?” Hayley asked, coming out of the back room and presenting me with the box.

“Oh, wow,” I breathed, taking in the beautiful colours, the hand-crafted figures, and the bold lettering.

Exquisite.

“It's absolutely perfect! What do I owe you?”

“For my favourite customer? Don't dare even pull out your purse! You know how much we love you.”

“Love doesn’t pay the bills. Come on, Hayley, what do I owe you?”

“I’ll be insulted if you ask one more time.”

“Hayley, I can’t—”

“You can, and you will! Now, go! Have you seen the time?” She came out from around the counter and shooed me towards the door. “Get gone before you're any later!”

“Thank you!” I gave her a quick hug, took the cake box from her hands, and kissed her cheek as she held the door open for me. With one last excited look into the box, I carefully hurried around the corner to where I had parked my car.

My phone rang yet again, just as I started driving. A quick glance at the screen showed me an unknown number for the umpteenth time today, so I quickly swiped cancel and drove home, probably faster than I should have.

As I pulled up outside my small home, I grinned as I noticed the balloons and the banners that had been placed in my absence.My garden was filled with balloons with small figures weighing them down. There was a huge balloon arch over my doorway, and a massive balloon masterpiece in the window .

Karen, you absolute fucking angel!

My phone rang once more, and I scowled down at the unrecognised number. I was too busy for this shit. My phone had never rung this much in my entire fucking life.

I grabbed the cake from the backseat and hurried out of the car, pushing the door open with my foot.

I need to remind Karen to make sure the door is shut and locked behind her!

Speak of the devil, Karen came rushing towards me as I kicked the door shut behind me and placed the cake on the hallway table.

“Have a look at this beauty!” I grinned. She didn’t grin back. A worried frown plagued her face, and she was wringing her hands with nerves. I was just about to ask her if she was okay when my phone rang once more.

“This fucking thing!” I snarled, angrily jabbing the decline button.

“Lisa—” Karen began, chewing her bottom lip. I looked at her closely, shrugging out of my coat, noticing her pale face, her shaking body, and the way her eyes wouldn’t meet my own.

“What's the matter? Is Axel okay?”

“He's fine. He's fast asleep.” She looked at me briefly and then looked away again, chewing her lip harder.

“So what is it? Why do you look fucking petrified?” I said with a hollow laugh.

“It's this,” she said, her words laced with worry as she handed me a piece of paper. “I-I thought it was another birthday card, so I opened it to place with the others….”

“You look like you're about to pass out over a piece of paper?” I said with a soft chuckle. “How bad can it be? Fuck me!” I snapped, as my phone rang again. “Let me just answer this first. They won't bloody stop today, I swear. If it's the fucking car insurance again, I’ll flip my shit.”

“Lisa, please just read it.”

I held a finger up as I brought the phone to my ear.

“Please,” she whispered.

I rolled my eyes, but did as she asked, at the same time as I pressed answer.

“Hello?” I said coolly, my hands unfolding the letter. “Hello?” I sighed heavily, my patience wearing thin. “What's the point of ringing if you're not even going to respond? ”

“Rachel,” said a deep, calm voice. A voice that had my blood freezing, my heart stopping, and caused my entire body to break out in chills.

I looked at the letter, my entire body stiffening. It fell from my cold fingers, fluttering to the floor.

Happy 1st Birthday, Son.

Daddy will see you real soon.

“Dante…” I breathed.

“I think me and you need to have a little chat, Rachel. I want my son.”