Page 33 of Wanting Daisy Dead

Dan

‘Well, that was, I think, one of the worst nights of my life,’ I say, back at the apartment. Everyone else stayed for another drink, but I got Georgie out of there quickly and now I’m making some strong coffee to sober her up.

‘You want to talk “worst nights”, Dan, try finding out your boyfriend’s sleeping with one of your housemates, having promised he never would in your absence. Then keep calling and calling him, but he’s told you he’s out drinking with friends and not picking up.’

Here we go, she’s going over the night Daisy disappeared – again – and trying to trip me up, as she has been for twenty years.

‘Then think how it feels when you see the girl putting on her lipstick, fluffing her hair, throwing her scarf around her neck and skipping off for what looks like a date but saying, “I’m only meeting a friend.” I didn’t know it was David, I thought it was you.’

‘Whoa, why are we going over this again?’

‘Because I’ve been wanting to tell you ... and before it comes out this weekend, you should know – I followed her that night.’

‘You followed Daisy . . . the night she . . . ?’

‘Yes. I followed her all the way to Exmouth – I thought she was meeting you.’

‘What? Jesus, Georgie, sending that letter to the professor’s wife was bad enough – and Daisy was right, it was psycho stuff. But now you’re telling me you weren’t home when Daisy was killed – you were out stalking her?’

Now I know I can’t trust her anymore. She’s always been fiery and unpredictable but I never realised she was so unhinged .

‘But you told the police you were at home in bed. What the fuck were you doing, Georgie?’

‘You needn’t act so high and mighty. I was your alibi. Remember, I told the police you were with me ... which you weren’t. So, where the fuck were you, and what the fuck were you doing?’

‘Georgie, shut up! We’re being recorded!’

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’ She runs to her room and slams the door. A few seconds later I follow her in.

‘Tonight’s been the worst. That bloody Teresa, and fucking Lauren!’ She’s sitting on the bed, still in her glitzy red dress, taking off her high heels.

I’m about to say something, but without looking up, she lifts her finger to warn me.

‘ Don’t start lecturing me, Dan.’ One of her strappy shoes drops to the floor, and for a fleeting moment I remember when my wife dropping her heels on the floor turned me on.

‘Lauren is so vile, sitting there laughing at me. I couldn’t help it.’

‘She wasn’t laughing,’ I say, all thoughts of sex wiped cleanly from my mind. ‘Can’t you tell, she’s scared of you, she wouldn’t laugh openly in your face – Jesus, who would, when you’re like that?’

‘Whatever she was doing with her face, it was smug.’

‘ That doesn’t excuse you throwing a big glass of wine over her.’

She takes a long breath and considers this. ‘I probably shouldn’t have done that,’ she admits, in a rare moment of reflection. Then she turns to me and I see the helpless little girl in her eyes. ‘But I see this red mist of rage, and ...’

‘I know, I live with it, but other people don’t have to. I was praying you wouldn’t, but you were clutching the stem of that glass so tightly it was only going one way.’

‘Over Lauren.’ She closes her eyes, a pained expression on her face. ‘You turned away, you didn’t stop me. Coward.’

‘Yeah, I probably am a coward, but you’ve made me that way. You scare me. I wanted to snatch it from you but was worried that, if I did, you’d hurl it over me instead.’

‘That might have been easier. Now I have to apologise to that witch.’

I’m surprised and relieved she’s even considering an apology. Her usual tactic is to push blindly on, being stubborn and defensive.

I plonk myself down on the bed next to her.

‘I know this is stressful, no one wants to be here, and you and I ... well, we’re in a difficult position.

There are things we did back then that I’m not proud of.

And you writing a letter to Louisa Montgomery does kind of put the spotlight on you.

All the years we’ve been together, why didn’t you tell me? ’

‘Because it doesn’t make any sense, but you of all people should understand why I did it. I was scared of losing you .’

My wife is angry and bossy and stubborn. But as her other strappy shoe falls on to the carpet, and she looks at me with helpless eyes, I’m touched by her vulnerability.

‘I wanted Daisy out of our lives,’ she explains.

‘She was everywhere – at home chatting with you, at uni talking earnestly with you about her problems. I’d see you both in a café having lunch when you’d said you couldn’t meet me because you had a lecture.

So I sent the letter hoping she’d have to leave uni – and David would dump her – but instead of her fleeing, or losing her place on the course, in the following weeks she turned to you.

And from that moment, not only was she in our house and at our uni, she was now in our bed. ’

Tears stream down her face, and I gently put my arm around her. ‘I couldn’t bear to see you together, Dan.’ She pauses. ‘But when I found out about the baby ... That broke me.’

I see the pain in her eyes, and not for the first time I wonder just how far Georgie was prepared to go to get rid of Daisy.

‘She made out she wanted to keep the baby, but she was just toying with you, and you couldn’t see it.

I wanted to save us, save you, but you didn’t hear me, you wouldn’t listen.

That’s when I realised that, whatever I did, however much I tried to stop you leaving me, I couldn’t trust you – I still can’t. ’

I take a deep breath. ‘That’s your insecurity. I may have had a wandering eye in the past, but not anymore.’ I hate myself.

‘Really?’

‘Yes, I’ve changed, Georgie,’ I say, knowing this isn’t true.

‘Promise me?’

‘Yes, that’s all in the past. When you threatened to leave me last summer, I realised what was at stake.’

She looks doubtful, but hopeful.

‘It’s just that I saw the way Lauren looked at you tonight – like she thinks she has a chance.’

‘Please don’t go down that road again, babe.’

‘I can’t help it. Since we got here she’s been constantly seeking out your eyes.’

‘No she hasn’t, you’re imagining it. Stop torturing yourself.’

‘What happened with Daisy was traumatic. I’ve found it so hard to trust you.’

I soften again at this. ‘I know, and I take some responsibility for that. But stop living in the past. We have a great future together, so let’s put it all behind us.’ Her spat with Lauren has made her vulnerable, and for all her bravado and bitterness I’m glad that sometimes she needs me.

‘What about Maddie? I see the way you look at her.’

‘Maddie’s lovely, but I find it hard to have a conversation with her, let alone an affair.’ Maddie’s always been immune to my charms. A shame, because she looks so good naked.

Georgie smiles – something she doesn’t do often.

‘I know you and Lauren once had a thing, in our first year, when I went home for the weekend.’

‘God, I barely remember it. I was a kid – it was nothing.’

‘To you, perhaps, but I wonder if she thought it was more. You have to be careful with Lauren. I think she would definitely push us both under the bus if she could.’ She pauses, and the vulnerability of a moment ago is replaced by something mean and hard.

‘But here’s the thing, Dan, if she ever tries to throw me under the bus, I’ll throw you under too. ’

It’s not easy being married to someone who’s pathologically jealous. She could lash out at any time.

‘Tomorrow night that podcast goes out, and trust me, everyone is gearing up for their own defence. If that means betraying someone else, or lying to do it – they will.’

‘You make it sound like an episode of The Traitors ,’ I joke, in an attempt to hide my unease.

‘Trust me, Dan, it’s far more treacherous than that. They are all looking for something – anything . And we both know they won’t have to look too far to find dirt on you.’

It’s a sobering thought.

‘And her mother thinks you’re guilty.’

‘Yeah, that was a blow,’ I admit.

‘We were careful, with Daisy – weren’t we?’ she says, seeking reassurance.

‘Yeah, but we need to get our stories straight if things start to fall apart and we’re interviewed by the police again.’

‘God, it constantly plays like a video in my head,’ she says, looking around the room as if seeking an escape.

‘Same. It’s a video on a loop that I can’t shut down. After they found her body, I couldn’t eat or sleep. I thought my whole life was ruined, that my father would disown me.’

‘It was a scary time, but you really lost it – you were hanging around the scene of the crime. I’ll never understand why you did such a stupid thing.’

‘I know.’ My heart hurts, recalling how devastated I was. Alex had given me something, I felt high, and I had this feeling I could resurrect Daisy. I was so desperate to have her back.

‘I was just grieving,’ I say, unwilling to share any more with my wife.

‘No one would even have known, except the bloody News of the World were staking out the crime scene twenty-four-seven!’ My stomach churns at the memory – the photo of me on the front page standing by the beach hut, a shadowy figure in the eerie dawn light.

‘ Daisy’s housemate returns to the scene of the crime ,’ she’s saying, shaking her head. ‘Just replace “housemate” with “murderer”, and that’s what the press were implying.’

‘And I don’t blame them. I might as well have confessed. I even unwittingly provided the creepy photograph. Any journalist worth their salt would snap that media package up.’

I see the fear still in her eyes; it was as dreadful for her as it was for me. I wonder if that’s why we’re still together – two terrified people on a life raft, clinging to each other to save ourselves. Both so scared that if we pull apart, we might drown.

‘My father was so angry, but, worse, he was upset – I’d never seen him cry before.’ I still feel his pain. As a father now myself, I understand. ‘If it weren’t for you giving me an alibi I might have found myself in David Montgomery’s place. Did I ever say thank you?’

‘No, but you’re welcome,’ she replies, unsmiling.

She lies back on the bed, her dress slides up a little, and I think about how we used to be.

Georgie was always adventurous in our student days, and seeing her like this makes me want to touch her smooth thighs, slip my hands under the silky fabric of her dress.

I begin to rub her feet, waiting for her to push me away.

And when she doesn’t recoil at my touch, I move next to her on the bed and we start to kiss.

She’s clearly aroused, probably stimulated by memories of Daisy, or the threat of Lauren creeping into my bed.

Or the thought of Alex creeping into hers?

We have our best sex when others are involved – if only in our heads these days.

‘It’s all fine,’ I breathe into her ear. ‘I will always come back to you.’

‘I keep imagining you with Lauren,’ she pants. ‘She’s on top.’

‘She loves it on top,’ I whisper. ‘She likes it in the back of the car, the windows get so steamy ...’

I describe our bodies, the sweat, the positions, the way Lauren’s long legs wrap around me when I take her up against a wall.

By now Georgie’s desperate for me, she’s kissing me, licking me, climbing on me, begging me to do the same with her that I do with Lauren.

It’s so twisted and dark; my imagined adultery is exquisite pain for my wife, and she sucks the blood out of it like a vampire.

And afterwards, as we lie on tangled sheets in the student-sized bed, she rests her head on my chest. It feels good; she’s finally calm.

‘I love our fantasies,’ she murmurs, ‘because that’s all they are.

’ I stroke her naked shoulder, and I think about Lauren and all the other women I’ve made love to while being married to my wife.

And just thinking about Lauren right now I want her long legs wrapped around me as I take her against the wall – as I just described.

Georgie thinks I imagine these scenarios with other women for her, but it isn’t fantasy.

I don’t have the imagination to create erotic encounters; I need to experience them.

Georgie thought it was fantasy when I said how Daisy liked it rough, and begged me to tie her wrists together.

Georgie got off on that, because she thought it wasn’t real, she had no idea I was already sleeping with Daisy and this ‘fantasy’ was real for me.

But later it became real for both of us, when Georgie and I together ran our fingers through Daisy’s long, silky hair and explored her soft, naked skin.

Even now, in flagrante, we sometimes whisper about the silk scarf we’d tie around her wrists, and I imagine my hands around Daisy’s soft, white neck . ..