Perfectly Obsessed (28 page)

Chapter Thirty-Five

Cammie

Although the circumstances aren’t the greatest, I’m happy to be here. I haven’t seen Lorna and Maddie for nine months. Maddie is the cutest, curly haired toddler you will ever meet and every time I see her, my loins burn for my own child. For Drake’s child.

After filling her in on my mother’s passing and Marg’s attack, I help her set up the guest room Drake and I will be sharing while we are here.

“Do you remember when we stayed in all the different hotels on our holidays, we never had to make our beds,” she laughs, stuffing the pillows into their cases.

“Yeah, I wish we were still out there,” I sigh, heavily.

“Me too, hopefully we can book another holiday soon.”

“What do you think they’re planning?” I ask her, choosing to ignore her holiday idea.

I would love to go back to the sun and white beaches, but I don’t have the energy to dream about it right now.

Her snort should sound condensing, but I saw the way she gave up years ago trying to find out Stan’s business.

“Never mind,” I murmur, throwing myself down on the bed.

“You’ve had a long day and shit news tonight, get some sleep and you’ll be able to deal with it tomorrow.”

I can’t deny I’m tired, my eyes are heavy and my body wants only to succumb to the mattress. However, building anxiety over whatever Drake is hiding outweighs the need to sleep.

He hasn’t been out of the den since we arrived. He makes out that I am the only person in his life he would kill for, but whether he is conscious of it or not, he would do the same for Marg and even Stan.

The fear of the past creeps back. I have had him to myself for so long, I can’t lose him now.

My head swims with what if’s and images of Marg’s broken face, along with my mother and to a point, my father.

It took my mother dying for him talk to me without being prompted and he had the audacity to look affronted when I told him where to go. I don’t need him or his regrets now. I needed him when I was growing up, if he had been the father to me he was to my brothers he wouldn’t have had to talk to me with such regret at the wake. I could have been by his side, grieving with him and getting us both through a difficult time. Instead, he is probably home alone in a house with little good memories and I’m back on my way to a world where he has never been a part of.

The minutes soon start to roll into hours and I’m just falling into a fruitful sleep when Drake tries unsuccessfully to skulk into the room without waking me up. Not that I was sleeping. I listen to his clothes being pulled off and hitting the floor as he discards them where he stands. There is no light in the room, I can only make out his shape in the darkness and he has no idea I am watching him.

He climbs into bed, slipping his arm over my hip and moves closer to me. His lips brush against my shoulder lightly and my pillow dips where he lays his head close to mine.

I love this time with him. At night, only the two of us and nothing between us.

The scent of rich whiskey is potent as he exhales heavily and I wonder if it is the drink that is keeping him here and not out hunting for the person who attacked Marg?

“I was wondering when you were going to come to bed.” I whisper.

“Sorry, we got carried away,” he whispers back.

I don’t want to know what they got carried away doing or planning.

“You have something to tell me,” I remind him.

Now we are alone, I want the answers he promised to tell me later, now is later and I want them.

“I do?”

“Yes, why can’t you go to the hospital?”

When he tenses I’m immediately on alert. He never keeps anything from me.

“Drake, what’s going on?” I demand, turning around to face him.

“As of this minute, you’re living in an unknown world. You’re happy, we’re happy. Are you sure you want to know because you’re not going to like what I have to say.”

How bloody dare him. How dare he think I would want to willingly live in the dark in order to be happy. When have I ever chosen happiness over the truth? I’d rather know the truth and expect whatever is coming our way. I want to always be ready for any outcome.

“Tell me.”

“It’s nice in here, Lorna must be the creative one, Stan wouldn’t…”

“You can’t see shit in here, it’s too dark, just tell me what’s going on,” I snap, when he thinks he can talk about mundane crap.

“Why can’t you be seen in London?”

“If I’m seen or the police hear I’m back, I’ll be straight back in the nick and it will be a long time before I’d get out again.”

This is not what I expected to hear.

“What? Why? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

In the darkness I make out him leaning up on his elbow and feel his hand reach out for mine.

Right this minute, I can’t bear to be held by him in case I need space.

“When I made I parole, I was on license for the remainder of my sentence. That means, I had to go see my probation officer once a week at first then once a fortnight after so long until I had served the whole of five-year sentence. I didn’t go and we disappeared for three years. Each time we travelled, I was using a fake passport because I wasn’t allowed to leave the country whilst on license. You see where I’m going with this, all that shit is major violations and I’d definitely be recalled to prison.”

I was right not to let him hold me, I need space and he doesn’t see it coming when I jump out of bed. I can’t believe it.

“All this time I thought we were free and you were staying out of trouble. You were bang in the middle of trouble and we were never free. We still aren’t.”

My voice is too loud and evidently, the shaking fear is clear to hear. There is no mistaking what I am feeling now is fear. Pure, unadulterated fear.

“You promised me you would never go back to prison,” I begin, only to be shot down with his answer.

“And I’m not…”

“But you will, if a copper sees you and let’s face it, all the fucking coppers in London know who you are, you’ll be arrested and carted off to jail. I’ll only see you once a month again, sleeping alone every night, doing everything alone again.”

Memories of last time rush back to haunt me. Pacing the dark room does nothing to take away the fear, if anything it makes it worse. I used to believe only bad things happened in the dark. What could possibly be bad when the sun is shining bright?

Drake follows me out of bed and stalks towards me. Holding my arms out, I hope he sees I need a minute to freak the fuck out.

“Cammie, let me come to you,” his voice thick with drink and fatigue.

I don’t say anything but I don’t move when he moves towards me. Enveloping me in his arms does nothing to take the fear away because it is these arms that won’t be holding me if he gets banged up again.

I didn’t cry when my mother was lowered into the ground and I didn’t cry when I walked away from the remainder of my family not twelve hours ago, I cry now.

“Hush, babe. I’m not going anywhere without you. I’m here with you, everyday with you. I made a promise to you and I’m not going to break it.”

I’m so tired and the shock of hearing our lives aren’t quite as free as I was led to believe crushes me down and with it, my body slumps to the floor. Drake follows me down and keeps me tight in his arms.

“Why did we come back to England? We could have carried on round the world and settled somewhere no one knows us.”

I wish we were anywhere but here.

“England is our home. I want a house, a garden with a swing set, children running around and you. I want all that, here in England.”

We go quiet again and it gives me time to process what I’ve learned until it dawns on me that everybody in London knows who Drake is. One of them are bound to give him up.

“You can’t go back to London tomorrow.”

“The fuck I can and I’m going to.”

Heaving out of his hold and getting to my feet, I look down at him with disbelief.

“You tell me you can’t live without me then you take unnecessary risks to make it a possibility. Drake, this isn’t a fucking game you can’t play with the police anymore. What we have is too important, I won’t risk losing you,” I tell him, adamantly.

“How many fucking times, babe. I’m not going anywhere,” he shouts back, pushing to his feet.

“If you’re so sure then why didn’t you go straight to the hospital?” I ask, sarcastically.

Can’t he see how ridiculous it is him being in London is again?

Narrowing his eyes, he walks back to the bed and sits on the end.

“Don’t be a bitch, babe. It doesn’t suit you.”

“I have every right to be a bitch, you’ve lied to me for three years. I thought those days were behind us. Now I found out that they are following us everywhere we fucking go,” I scream.

“Nothing is following us apart from your paranoia,” he yells.

“When I go to see Marg tomorrow and I am going, I’ll be watching my back as much as I’ll be looking forward. Nobody is taking me away, not from my freedom and certainly not from you. I’ll sense if anything is wrong and get myself out before any copper thinks he can take me in. All I’m going to do is see Marg then come back.”

I know what he is saying is true. He believes it and he desperately wants me to believe it and up to a point I do. He won’t put himself in a position to be taken in but anything could happen beyond his control.

“Then I’m coming with you,” I tell him.

My tone making it clear I won’t back down.

“Of course you are,” he mutters.

Where he goes, I go. It’s always been the way, our way.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Drake

I laid with Cammie until she finally fell asleep and the built up guilt I stored broke away from the truth being out there.

She now knows everything.

A Sparrow flies close by and perches itself on a naked branch and chirps away. I wonder what it has to chirp about this early in the fucking morning.

“I knew she didn’t have a clue about you jumping your license.” Stan drones, joining me outside on the back porch.

“You heard, huh?”

I take the offered mug of coffee and sit down.

“Thin walls,” he explains shortly, taking the seat next to me.

“I didn’t want her to worry,” I say, before taking a sip of the piping hot coffee, “I wanted one little slice of normalcy with her. Do things like a normal couple.”

Stan nods his head, “I get it, I really do, but you’re not a normal couple Drake and the more you keep from her the more she’s in danger of getting hurt.”

He doesn’t say it, but I can hear the silent ‘again’.

“I know, I want her to have everything and the more I try to give her the more I feel it isn’t enough,” I admit, for the first time out loud.

I have always felt that way with Cammie. “You are obsessed with her, Drake. It could prove to be your downfall.”

I look at my friend and know he is right, I shrug and say, “I’m perfectly obsessed with her and if she is my downfall, I’ll happily get on my knees now and wait for the end.”

He sits beside me silently drinking his coffee, letting me wallow in my own destructive thoughts for a while.

The Sparrow I was watching before Stan came out, flies off and two more replace it. How I would love to be able to fly away at a second’s notice.

“When are you setting off?” he asks, bringing me out of my solitude.

“Soon, William said he will call when she’s on her way home.”

“I’ll follow you up there. We’ll get the cunt who did this to her, Drake. Fucking count on it,” he warns.

“Yeah, we will.”

Lorna and Maddie wave us off for London. William called ten minutes ago, Marg will be home within an hour.

We should get there about the same time. Stan is driving with us in his own motor.

“Mad’s is getting big,” I observe.

Each time we see her, she has grown considerably and has learnt more and more.

“She’s growing up fast,” Cammie replies, withdrawn from me still.

She is only coming today to see for herself I won’t take any unnecessary risks with my freedom. She was quiet over breakfast, only talking to me with short, clipped answers when I engaged her in conversation.

I leave her be during the drive, allowing her time with her thoughts. Traffic is pretty light and I make sure to stick to the speed limits. Every move I make now has to be on point. Getting pulled over for a minor driving offence could spiral out of control and I would be banged up faster than you could say, speeding ticket.

We circle Marg’s block of flats three times to check for any motors following us or anyone hanging around acting suspiciously.

When I’m happy we’re okay, I park in the bay covered by a large, over hanging tree and Stan pulls in next to me.

“Make this quick, Drake. The sooner you’re away from here, the less chance you’ll be recognised,” Stan tells me, as we both get out of our cars.

Cammie stays quiet and lets me hold her hand when I hold mine out for her.

The short distance from the car to the flat has never felt so long before. I keep my head down and briskly get to the front door. William answers before Stan has finished banging on it and scurries us across the threshold before slamming the door shut behind us.

“Where is she?” Cammie asks, pulling her hood down and taking her coat off.

“I put her to bed as soon as we got in, the med’s she’s on make her drowsy, she’s tired all the time.”

“I’ll wait down here,” Stan says, making his way to the kitchen.

I follow behind Cammie as she takes the stairs to Marg’s bedroom and brace myself for what I am about to see.

Cammie halts just inside the room and a strangled cry explodes from her. I feel like I could do the same if I tried to make a sound.

Marg is lying in bed, only her head visible from being covered in blankets.

My feet move, they take me in the right direction of where I want to go but I have no sense of making myself physically move. Crouching beside her as not to disturb her by sitting on the bed, I take inventory of her face and neck.

Both eyes are a blueish, black mix of bruises. Her nose is triple the size it usually is and has a small cut on the tip. One cheek looks untouched but the other, is hidden by bandages and her neck is a mess of bruises and bandages.

I am completely focused on her broken jaw. She makes me jump when she struggles to lift her hand to my face.

Her eyes are telling me everything but her face barely twitches. I catch my breath and remember what I need.

I look around and find Cammie looking sick still frozen in the doorway.

“Babe, go put the kettle on. Make us all a drink,” I grind out.

She shocks me when she actually listens and leaves the room without me having to tell her again.

Marg makes a peculiar noise around the swelling and gets my devotion.

“Don’t try to talk,” I tell her, looking around for paper and a pen.

Next to her bed is a notepad and pen. I round the bed and sit next to her trying not to hurt her.

Putting the pen in her hand so she doesn’t have to move far, I put the notepad next to her and begin.

“Don’t write too much, I’ll ask questions and you scribble a tick for yes or a cross for no, okay?”

She scribbles a tick and I begin.

“I won’t ask how much pain you’re in ‘cause that much is evident. So, did you only want to see me because this attack had something to do with me?” I ask.

I watch the movement of her fingers around the pen, and the ink forms a tick.

“Did it happen because of me?” I ask next.

Again, a shaky tick is written.

“Was it a surprise attack?”

This time, she scribbles a cross.

“You saw it coming?”

Again, a cross.

“They were waiting for you?”

A tick is drawn.

“Do you know who it was?”

Tick.

“Was it more than one?”

Cross.

A name crosses my mind and I pray to God I am wrong. Before I can ask, she begins scribbling more than a tick or a cross.

‘Tommy.’

My blood surges through my veins at a rate I am unable to slow down and for a second it clouds every rational coherent thought I have.

Marg continues to scribble and I have to focus hard to see what she is trying to write.

‘He knew you would come.’

I bet he fucking did.

‘You must leave, take Cammie, GO!’

“I’m not going anywhere until he pays.”

‘No, you are straight now, you’re married! Too much to lose.’

“Cam will understand.” I argue.

‘No trouble, Drake. GO HOME!’

“Unless you’re getting up out of this bed to stop me, I’ll do what I please.”

I know she wants to. I know her too well. I lean over and take the pen and notebook off of her. I kiss her softly on her cheek that isn’t bruised.

“You worry too much about me, Marg. I’ll be back soon…you can count on it,” I promise her.

I leave the room before she tries to fight me in her condition and find Cammie, William and Stan in the kitchen.

“Stan,” I say, nodding towards the living room.

I grab the coffee Cammie made me and Stan follows me through to the other room where we can talk.

He closes the door behind him and pounces on me with questions. Running my fingers through my hair, I stop him from making the pain in my head worse.

“Tommy was the one who attacked her, he knew it would bring me back,” I tell him, before he bombards me with more questions.

His mouth opens and closes umpteen times before he gives up and takes the weight off his feet and slumps into the arm chair.

“Why now?” he crooks out.

“Fuck knows,” I shrug.

“Shall we find out?”

“Definitely.”

“I’m going to pop my head in and see Marg before we go, you better feed William something ‘cause the man is going off his nut not knowing anything.”

I do as he advises and head to the kitchen while Stan dashes up the stairs.

“C’mon then, tell me what she said,” William says as soon as he sees me.

“She hasn’t said anything, her fucking jaw is wired shut,” I snap, unable to stop myself.

“Drake.” Cammie admonishes me and I step back.

“How do you think I feel? I love her and yet, you’re the only one she will talk too. I understand you have a solid relationship but if I find out that this happened because of you, I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” I ask, getting in his face.

“As far as I can see, this wouldn’t have happened if you were with her. Where were you when it happened?” I yell at the top of my voice.

Cammie slides between us and pushes me away from him.

“This isn’t his fault, Marg don’t need you two fighting. She would hate it, go and sit with her to calm down.”

“Don’t worry, I’m going out,” I tell her, “Under no circumstances do you let her out of this flat or let anyone in. No one,” I warn William.

“Where are you going?” she asks, forcing me to look at her and not William.

“I’ll be back soon, I mean it, babe, don’t leave this flat.”

Stan is waiting by the door and looks like he is ready to kill. Seeing Marg in her condition will do that to any man.

“Where to first?” he asks, tossing me a baseball cap from the rack by the front door.

“The Old Dagger.”