Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
REBECCA
Vicky strolls into the living room Tobias shares with his brother Christian and flops beside me on the couch. “Pack your swimming costume, we’re going on a spa day.”
“What?” I ask, you know, like an idiot. I heard her perfectly well, and that’s my response.
“All of us. You, me, Imogen, Grace, and Saskia. We feel like utter shits because, ever since you came back from Cornwall last week, we’ve all been so busy, we haven’t had time to spend with you and welcome you to the family properly. So, that’s what today is. Wives bonding club.”
The difference is I’m not a real wife like Imogen, Vicky, and Grace are. Their marriages might have started out as arranged, but anyone with a pair of working eyes can see how madly in love they are with their husbands.
“I can’t. I have Isla.”
“I’ll watch Isla,” Tobias pipes up. “That is, if you’re okay with that.”
“Problem solved.” Vicky flicks her wrist in Tobias’s direction. “A man being useful for once.”
“To be fair, Nicholas set the bar pretty low. It’s doing none of us any favors.”
Vicky laughs. “I do love you, Tobias.”
“I’ll be sure to tell Nicholas that next time I see him.”
“Oh, he knows. I use it to keep him in line.” She winks, then returns her attention to me. “Come on, Rebecca. It will do you good. You should see the spa we’re going to. It’s sooooo luxurious. You deserve a little pampering.”
“She isn’t wrong,” Tobias says.
“And what will you guys do?” I ask.
“I thought I could give Isla her first riding lesson.”
“Riding?” Isla does love seeing the horses. Every time we leave the house, she insists on walking past the stables, no matter where we’re headed. To me, they look like great big snorting beasts. Tobias, though, would never put Isla in harm’s way.
“Yeah. I think she’d love it,” he adds. “And I promise to take lots of videos, so you don’t feel like you’re missing out.”
That hadn’t occurred to me, but it’s more evidence of Tobias’s thoughtfulness.
I have to loosen the apron strings eventually, especially as she’ll be expected to attend school this September.
It’ll do Isla good to be away from me for a little bit, too.
I don’t want her growing up as a clingy child.
Developing her independence is important, and this could be the first step.
“Okay, I’ll come,” I say to Vicky. “But I don’t have a swimming costume.”
“Not a problem. We’ll go shopping on the way.”
“Oh, that reminds me.” Tobias stands and reaches into his back pocket. He opens his wallet and slides out a black card. “This is yours.”
I take it from him. In the top right-hand corner is the De Vil family crest, with a company name I don’t recognize in the top left. At the bottom there’s my name in gold lettering. Mrs. Rebecca De Vil.
“What’s this?”
“Your credit card. I mentioned it in Cornwall, remember?”
A rush of tears fills my eyes. I blink before they fall. I do remember him saying this. Since we returned to Oakleigh it had slipped my mind, and, if I’m being honest with myself, I hadn’t expected him to follow through. Marcus made lots of promises he loved to break.
Tobias isn’t Marcus.
Maybe my first purchase should be to have that tattooed somewhere visible as a reminder. Although, ugh, no. Marcus left enough marks on me, inside and out.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “I’ll use it sparingly, I promise.”
“I hope you won’t.” Tobias chuckles. “I want you to splurge on whatever takes your fancy. Go nuts.”
Vicky leans in. “They don’t have a credit limit, either.”
My jaw unhinges. “No credit limit?”
“Nope.”
“Wow.” Regardless, I could never rack up a huge bill. It’s just not me, but being able to buy a few bits and pieces for Isla without having to ask feels nice. She’s growing so fast.
The difference in my life now compared to a few short months ago is mind blowing. Intense. It’s… it’s a lot, and every time I think I’ve processed the change, something else comes along to send me back to square one.
I’ve gone from scrimping and saving to afford the basics, even though my husband was what most would call upper middle class, to this.
To having a personal credit card with unlimited spending power, where I’ll never again have to worry about money.
Is there any wonder I’m struggling to believe this is real, that something drastic won’t come along and pull the rug from under my feet?
“On the way to the spa, we’ll swing by the perfect swimwear shop I know not far from here, get you kitted out. Then it’s massages, mayhem, and mojitos.” Vicky squeezes my hand before she gets to her feet. “We’ll meet you downstairs in five minutes.”
I wait for her to leave, then address Tobias. “Are you sure you’ll be okay with Isla?”
“Are you kidding?” He grins. “I get to sack off the office and spend the day with Isla and horses? I can’t think of a better day than that.”
What did I do to deserve this man and this life? He’s kept every promise he’s made. A part of me had expected the “no sexual contact” to be some kind of a ruse. Gameplay while he bided his time, yet he hasn’t made a single advance.
A strange prickling sensation tiptoes across my chest. I’m glad he hasn’t tried anything, yet at the same time, I can’t deny a hint of disappointment. Not because I’m interested in anything intimate, but because it’s flattering, I guess, to be wanted.
“If you need me, I’m on the end of a phone.”
“We’ll be fine. Go.” He flicks his wrist. “Have a good time. You deserve it.”
It’s with a mixture of reluctance to leave Isla and exhilaration at having time to myself that I walk down the stairs to meet the girls in Oakleigh’s entrance foyer.
We pile into two SUVs. Me, Grace and Vicky in one, with a bodyguard and a driver up front, and Imogen and Saskia, plus more bodyguards in the other.
A half hour later, I’ve bought two swimming costumes and a bikini that shows off far too much of my body, which Vicky insisted I had to buy because, and I quote, “You look hot as fuck.”
I’ve never once been told that by anyone, male or female so, I admit, I had my head turned, and into the bag the bikini went. Guess I can’t hide my scars forever.
The spa is the kind of place I’ve seen on reality TV for the rich and famous, and not the sort of establishment I ever thought I’d find myself in.
Our personal guide—which is Vicky’s description, not mine—leads us through to a changing area, and once we’re in our costumes and dressing gowns, we’re led through to a relaxation room.
One by one, we’re taken in for our treatments.
I’m tense when I slip off the dressing gown, but the masseuse doesn’t mention my scars, only asking if the pressure is okay and to speak up if anything hurts.
By the time I emerge ninety minutes later, I’m more relaxed than I’ve ever been in my life and I smell incredible.
Vicky and Imogen are in the relaxation room when I arrive, drinking champagne and nibbling on strawberries.
“How was that?” Vicky pats the lounger.
I sit beside her. “Incredible.”
“See. I knew this was what you needed.” She hands me a glass of champagne. “Cheers.”
We all clink glasses. I’m not a big drinker, too aware that I needed to keep my wits about me. I take a sip, then set it on the small table next to me.
“How are you settling in?” Imogen asks.
“I’m getting there.”
“I’m sorry we haven’t been around more. Work’s been manic. Soon, it should start slowing down a little for a month or two. I hope we can spend more time together.”
I dip my chin. “I’d like that. I’ve never had many girlfriends.”
I’ve no idea what made me say that. It just came out. Before Imogen can react to my oversharing, the door opens and Grace and Saskia enter, giggling.
Grace drops onto a lounger across from mine. “Saskia’s pulled.”
“I have not pulled.” She grabs the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket and pours herself and Grace a glass.
“She has.” Grace grins. “Go on. Tell them.”
Saskia plops down at the foot of Grace’s lounger. “I had a male masseuse, that’s all. And he was bloody good.” She rolls her neck. “Got all the kinks out.”
“Kinks, you say?” Vicky waggles her eyebrows. “A male masseuse. You lucky thing. Although Nicholas would probably have him killed if he’d been my masseur.”
I flash a glance at Vicky. She’s joking, right?
“So would Alexander.”
“And Christian.”
I shift my gaze between the three of them. “Not actually kill them.”
“Probably.” Imogen chuckles. “The De Vil men have jealousy rather than blood running through their veins.”
Vicky nods. “True story.”
Oh, my God.
“Don’t scare her,” Saskia says. “This is supposed to be a welcome to the family female bonding session, not a fright-a-thon. My brothers are a little overprotective, that’s all.”
I get the feeling she’s underplaying it, but I refrain from asking. I’m not sure I want to know all the gory details.
Imogen meets my eyes, her expression open. “We don’t know much about you, Rebecca, other than what Tobias has shared, which isn’t much. If you’re comfortable, we’d love to know more.” Her tone isn’t gossipy. It’s gentle, genuine.
The other girls nod in encouragement.
“It’s not a fairy tale.”
“We’re not interested in fairy tales,” Vicky says. “We’re interested in you. The real you.” She touches my knee. “There will be no judgment here, just quiet support from your family.”
Family. God, that’s it, isn’t it? I have a family, and they’re right here. I scan the sea of faces filled with warmth and understanding, and a dam bursts.
“I grew up in a small town in Suffolk close to the border with Essex. My father left when I was a baby, my mother was an alcoholic, and my older brother was regularly in trouble with the police.” I shrug in faked nonchalance, like my background didn’t deeply scar me.
“I couldn’t wait to escape, to find a better life than the one I’d been born into.
Academically, I wasn’t gifted. I left school with little to no qualifications.
Deep down, though, I believed I could claw my way out of poverty if I worked hard enough. ”
I reach for my champagne glass and take a sip. This is oddly empowering. Freeing. Maybe Jane is having more of an effect on me than I thought. First, Tobias in Cornwall. Now, here with the girls.
“I didn’t have many friends at school, too embarrassed of Mum to bring them home in case she was on one of her benders, so I pretty much kept myself to myself.
I left at sixteen and got a job waitressing at a pub not far from where I lived.
I enjoyed working with people and making them feel special.
I was good at it. Returning customers would often ask to be seated in my area.
” I pause. “I’d completely forgotten that, but it’s true. ”
“I can totally see why,” Imogen says. “You’ve got such a warm personality, the kind that draws people to you.”
I do? News to me.
“I’d been working there almost two years when, one night, a group of guys came in. They were rowdy. You know, guys being guys. I went to take their order, and one of them shoved his hand up my skirt. I froze, horrified. That’s when Marcus stepped in.”
I close my eyes and let the memory come.
“He was sitting at an adjacent table with his brother. He grabbed the guy by the back of the neck and slammed his face into the table. There was blood everywhere. I thought he was a hero, my savior. He asked me out on a date. I agreed.” When I open my eyes, all four women are engrossed.
“At first, he was a perfect gentleman, my perfect guy. He took me to expensive restaurants and the theater. He bought me bottles of perfume that cost more than Mum’s monthly rent.
He love-bombed me, and I fell for it. A short while later, we married.
I felt like I’d made it. I’d escaped my miserable upbringing and married a man with prospects from a wealthy middle-class family. ” I laugh bitterly. “How wrong I was.”
Vicky puts her arm around me and rests her head on my shoulder. “You don’t have to tell us anymore if it’s too painful.”
“No, I want to.” I take a deep breath in. “At first, the changes were subtle. An odd comment here, a bit of criticism there. Before I knew it, I didn’t even recognize the man who’d stood up for me that night in the pub. I couldn’t move without his approval.”
I give a wry smile. “The funny thing is, I’d never have categorized myself as a woman who would let such a thing like that happen to her.
I thought I had street smarts, especially growing up where I did.
But I fell for the whole act, and I paid a heavy price for it.
” I break off, the rest of it too agonizing to share.
“The one good thing, though, is Isla. If I’d known she was the prize for going through what I did, I’d choose that life again in a heartbeat. ”
The room falls silent, until each of these women get up from their loungers and envelop me in a group hug. There are no words, only comfort and solidarity. The tears come. I can’t help it, and then we’re all crying and hugging.
I went from my neglectful childhood home to an abusive and violent relationship with Marcus, and somehow, I’ve ended up here, feeling safe and loved and cherished.
I’m the luckiest woman alive.