True Colours:The You Don't Know Me Trilogy Book 2(63)

     



 

At last, I hear the slam of a door, his unknowing movements upstairs.  And then footsteps. He appears at the top of the staircase. With his  hair still wet, he's thrown on a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt.  Expecting nothing, he begins to descend and as he moves, he slows,  noticing the figure on the sofa. His face clouds. He falters half way  down, holding onto the bannister, and then moves again. Slowly, warily,  like a cat on the prowl, his body tensing.

Unwilling to wait any longer, Layla gets to her feet and turns.

'Dan?' Her voice wavers.

He doesn't answer. Silence lies heavy in the air. At last, he moves  again. Blanking both of us, he simply walks into the kitchen and helps  himself to a bottle of water from the fridge. Facing away, his shoulders  hunched, he takes a sip.

I get up from the sofa.

Sensing a crackle in the air, a charge of electricity that seems to grow with every faltering step I take, I edge towards him.

'Dan?' Don't touch him, I tell myself. Whatever you do, don't touch him. He's on the brink of lashing out.

He takes another swig of water.

'You can't ignore us.'

'Can't I?' he asks, his voice expressionless. 'What's she doing here?'

'I came to see you,' Layla explains quickly. 'I've just arrived. Maya knew nothing about this.'

'Really?' He turns, glances at his sister, and from the look on his face, I'd say it's pretty clear he doesn't believe her.

'Really,' she repeats, visibly shaking now.

'And you feel the need to tell me?' He shifts his attention to my face.  'That says a lot.' He surveys the counter. 'I'm sure I'll get the truth  out of the concierge.'

'Okay.' While my brain pauses to consider a spot of damage limitation,  my mouth seems to have other ideas. I can barely believe it when the  entire truth comes tumbling out. 'I looked her up in Limmingham. I got  in touch with her but I didn't organise this. I just wanted to make  things better.'

'Well,' he says quietly, his eyes darkening. 'You've just made things a whole lot worse.'

I have no idea what that means, and I'm not about to ask for  clarification. All I want is to put back the clock and undo my mistakes  because my world is juddering beneath me.

'You've kept things from me,' I remind him. 'You've done things behind my back.'

'I've never done anything stupid.'

'Oh really? What about Boyd?'

'What about him?'

'You didn't back off when he told you to.'

'Because I wanted him out of our lives,' he growls. 'You've poked your nose into things that don't concern you.'

'Don't blame her, Dan,' Layla intervenes. Coming forwards, she holds out  a hand. 'Maya didn't know I was coming here today. I need to talk to  you. Sophie's not well.'

'And I'm not interested,' he sneers. 'Get out of my home.'

I take a step towards him. 'Dan, she's your sister.'

He turns to me, his eyes burning, and I realise he's doing his level best to reign himself in.

'I don't care. Get her out of here.'

'No,' I say firmly. 'You promised. You said you'd get back in touch. You need to talk to her.'

'I don't need to do anything. I want her gone.'

'She's staying.'

'Then I'm going. Where are my keys?'

'I've taken them.'

'Don't fuck with me, Maya.'

Reeling for a moment, I gather my wits and push on.

'You're not going anywhere. I've locked you in.'

He scowls, takes a step forwards, and I flinch.

'Is this your idea of a fucking joke?'

'I should go,' Layla interrupts.

'No.' Without taking my eyes from Dan, I remind her of our pact. 'I told  you we'd see this through. And Dan's going nowhere until he's talked to  you.'

'I'm not in the mood. Give me my keys.'

His eyes harden. He thrusts a hand towards me. I stand my ground.

'No.'

'Now, Maya!' He fires out the words. 'Give me the fucking keys.'

I shake my head, look down at the hand and realise it's trembling. My  eyes travel upwards, taking in the fact that he's tensed, breathing  quickly, ready to erupt.

'No.'

And then it happens. In a split second, the self-restraint snaps.

Frozen to the spot, I watch as he turns, kicking at the door over and over again, lashing out like a madman.         

     



 

'Calm down,' I yell.

Ignoring me, he carries on.

'Just let him out,' Layla pleads. She's by my side now, white-faced and  shaking. 'He's going to do himself some damage. Let him out.'

'Okay,' I shout. 'I'll get them!'

It's enough to stop him. Struggling for breath, he rests his forehead  against the door before he turns. His eyes meet mine, cold and resolute,  and he holds out a hand. I have no choice. Retrieving the keys from the  drawer, I hand them over. Without another word, he leaves, slamming the  door in his wake.

'Oh God,' I mutter, gazing into space. 'What have I done?'

'Go after him.' Layla's voice stirs me. 'Go after him and sort it out. I'd better leave.'

With tears gathering in my eyes, I give her an apologetic nod before I  open the door and run to the lift. Brushing off Beefy's offer of help,  and with my heart pounding in my chest, I push the call button and wait.  A couple of minutes later, I'm heading for the basement, staring at a  pathetic, tear-stained face in the mirrors and wishing I could blot out  the last few minutes. But I can't.

When the door finally slides open, I step out into a brightly lit garage  and spot him immediately. Down at the far end, he's next to the  motorbike, tugging his leathers out of a store cupboard.

'Dan.'

I take a few faltering steps and come to a halt. Either he hasn't heard  my voice or he's simply ignoring me, because he doesn't react.  Stony-faced, he slips his legs into the leathers and pulls them up to  his waist.

'Please don't go,' I sob. 'I'm sorry.'

Rousing myself into action, I take a few more steps. I'm next to him  now, so close I could reach out and touch him, but I daren't.

Shrugging his arms into the top section of the suit, he fastens the zip.

'Don't blank me, please.'

With a shake of the head, he nudges his feet into the boots, leans down  and buckles them up. It's not the reaction I want, but at least it's a  reaction of sorts. Through blurred vision, I watch as he takes the  gloves out of the cupboard and rests them on the bike, his face still  inscrutable. Whatever's going on inside that brain of his, he's  obviously determined to reveal nothing. The mask is firmly in place.

'She's gone. Please come back upstairs.'

He reaches for the helmet and fiddles with the straps.

'How did you find her?' he asks.

I give a jolt. So, he's finally talking to me.

'A birthday card. You left it in the bin.'

'Snooping.'

'You snooped on me.'

At last, I get some eye contact. He glances at me, dismissively, his eyes steely blue.

'You shouldn't have let her stay.'

'She was desperate. And you've got to face your past.'

He shakes his head.

'You had no right.'

'You block it out and you can't go on blocking it out. It's not healthy. You know that and I know that.'

'I don't need amateur fucking psychology.'

'You need something. What happened between you? She doesn't even know what she's done.'

'She's done nothing.'

'So it's you then? You can't face her because she looks like your  step-father. You think you hurt her when she came to see you last year   … '

I'm halted by his laughter. It's hard, mocking, hurtful. And it chills me to the core.

'You have no idea,' he snarls.

I stand there, dumbfounded, watching as he puts on the helmet, and then  the gloves. I can think of nothing more to say. Swinging his leg over  the bike, he turns the key in the ignition.

'Where are you going?'

He looks at me, and I can barely hear his reply above the rumble of the bike.

'Who knows?'

Flicking down the visor, he revs the engine and pulls away, waiting for  the garage door to open before he accelerates out onto the road, and  takes a right. I listen to the roar of the engine as he speeds off down  the embankment. I watch the door slide to a close  …  and then I sink to  my knees on the concrete floor.





Chapter Twenty-Eight


It's Beefy who pulls me back to my feet.

'You can't stay here all night.'

I stare at him, touch the sweet pea around my neck, and decide to tell  him that I just don't care. I will stay here all night. In fact, I'll  wait for as long as it takes until that garage door opens again, and Dan  comes to back to me. But neither my mouth nor my body seem willing to  co-operate with my brain. In silence, I'm guided back to the lift,  returned to the apartment and gently placed on a sofa. Before long, I  hear the familiar sounds of the tea-making ritual.         

     



 

'There you go.'

A mug appears under my nose.

'Do you know where he is?' I ask, stirring back to life.

I wait for Beefy's answer, desperately hoping that Dan's been in touch.

'No.'

Disappointment spreads through me.

'What's the time?'

'Just after six.'

My mobile. Perhaps he's texted me. Leaving the mug on the coffee table, I  shuffle over to the kitchen and dig the phone out of my handbag. One  message. From Layla.

So sorry it didn't work out. I'm on my way home now. Let me know what happens.

I crumple back onto the sofa and gaze out of the window, trying to jolt  my brain further into some sort of action. I have no idea how long I  spend like this, caught up in limbo, watching the evening shadows as  they creep across the Thames. It's only when I turn my attention to the  picture of Limmingham that the cogs finally begin to turn. Is that where  he's gone? Or has he decided to pay a visit to his old club? I shudder  at the thought. No, he wouldn't do that. Surely not. No. In all  probability, he's down in Surrey, brooding on his own at the house. I  glance at my mobile, wondering if I should text him, and quickly decide  to leave it. After all, he's clearly in no mood for communication. In  the end, I try the only alternative I can think of. I call Lucy.