Chapter 44 #2
‘Ronan, I’m so sorry...’
‘Do you understand how much you mean to me? Do you?’ I can hear the desperation. The pain.
‘Yes. Yes, I do. It’s only been a recent thing – I promise. After everything that happened... I wanted to do all I could to keep my mood as steady as—’
‘Don’t give me that bullshit. Your mood is fine. You’re playing games.’
‘Games?’
‘You have no capacity to understand how your actions affect other people. Everything is about you.’ He keeps his eyes down, his voice flat. Emotionless. Factual. ‘You’re selfish. Playing with people’s feelings. Your self-obsession makes me sick. You’re a narcissist, Mallory – in sheep’s clothing.’
‘Ronan—’
He leans towards me, putting his lips right next to my ear, body pressed into mine. ‘It’s good that you reserve the real Mallory only for me. No one else would accept it. You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you out. No one else would put up with this level of manipulation. It’s frankly disgusting.’
‘Is everything all right?’ Mum’s voice at the end of the hallway.
Before I can turn to look, Ronan’s body instantly softens.
He pulls me into him, kisses my ear, closing his hand around the tablets and pushing them into his pocket.
‘I love you,’ he whispers – just loud enough – then kisses my cheek, smiles and turns to Mum.
‘Everything is great! Now I must go!’ He takes the camel bomber from my hand, slings it over his shoulder, makes a pose like a model and says, for Mum, ‘Sensible, relaxed and unexpected. Nailed it.’ He turns and leaves.
As the door shuts behind him, Mum stays where she is, arms folded.
‘Everything OK?’ she repeats.
‘Yes,’ I say, blowing the hair out of my face that has fallen from my bun. ‘All good. Right, I must get my laptop and make a start.’ How long was she stood there?
I move quickly past her, up both flights of stairs and into the attic. In the bedroom I stop for a moment, allowing my breath, the unease in my chest, to settle. To regulate. The birth control pills. How could I be so stupid?
I need my phone.
Where would Ronan put it?
My body moves me before I can think, round the bed towards the inbuilt wardrobe in the opposite wall.
I pull open the doors on the left, his side, and stare at the perfectly hanging clothes.
He will know if anything has been moved.
I have to be careful. I gently run my hands across the pockets of the jackets and trousers.
But nothing. I kneel down on the floor, to where his collection of shoes are, stacked below the clothes, still in their boxes, all perfectly lined up.
Methodically I begin to open each one, take each shoe out and check inside.
When satisfied that they are empty, I place the lids back and make sure the boxes are aligned exactly as I found them. Nothing. Where would he put it?
At the back of the wardrobe I see a single sock, wedged between two boxes. I pull it out to see something the shape of an iPhone inside. I am stock-still for a moment, wondering if there is some kind of security seal he will notice has been broken, but there isn’t. It is just a sock.
I carefully lift out my phone.
I push the side button, praying that it has battery. The white apple appears on the black glass.
I look back behind me, as if Ronan might suddenly reappear. I can feel my heart against my ribcage. Stop it. He’s gone. He’s at work.
I glance down to see the phone asking for my passcode.
I type it in.
Error.
He’s changed it.
Shit.
I pause, my fingers hovering over the screen.
It won’t be my birthday. Or his. Maybe our wedding date? No.
I type in the date he got his promotion. The phone opens.
Of course.
Immediately I see four missed calls from the same 020 number flash up.
I don’t know it. Could that have been Stanley – trying to get in touch?
I navigate straight to WhatsApp to see three unread messages.
None of them are from Leo. I scroll down, searching for my message stream with him, only to see it is not there.
It has been deleted. I open up my contacts and type in his name. Nothing. He’s gone.
He’s gone from my phone.
No way of contacting him.
Of checking—
A sickening feeling erupts in my stomach, making a film of sweat break out across my skin. I try to swallow the rising panic. Is he alive?
I quickly go back to my unread messages to see the top one is from Joanie. I open it and read back over a conversation that appears to have taken place yesterday. A conversation I had no part in, but apparently there I am, chatting in the message stream.
Hey Mal xxx
Just checking everything is OK
Not heard from you in a while
Was good to see you the other week
That boy was crazy I hope the police got him
That poor old lady
We are having a dinner on Friday – everyone is coming
Please join!
Xx
Hey gorge
I’m actually not free this weekend
Been feeling a bit low lately
I’m OK though – Ronan is looking after me. I’m sure I’ll be back to myself soon xxxx
Oh sweetie I’m so sorry to hear that