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Thirty Days APRIL
“Though justice be thy plea, consider this,That, in the course of justice, none of usShould see salvation: we do pray for mercy;And that same prayer doth teach us all to renderThe deeds of mercy.”William ShakespeareThe Merchant of Venice, Act 4, Scene 1PROLOGUEI open my eyes and am immediately assaulted by a rogue swarm of butterflies in my stomach. A lazy grin stretches across my face and I can’t help but let out a sigh of contentment. Despite the crazy circus in my belly, I have never been happier. The day I have been working towards all month has finally arrived; my wedding day.I throw back the covers and make my way across to the window, pulling back the heavy damask curtains before letting out a gasp. The scene outside the window is that of a world blanketed in a thick cover of snow. Where there once were cars parked alongside the green that leads down towards the Promenade, now there are just indiscernible lumps. The forecast had predicted snow, but I can’t remember th
Thirty Days THE FIRST
My mind is drifting as I sit in Bloomsbury waiting for Michelle to arrive at a gorgeous little place I found called Bea’s. We are having afternoon tea and my mouth is watering already at the sight of the ginormous meringues that are loaded onto an equally enormous plate. I am thinking about the ten perfect days we spent in Mexico on the Yucatan Peninsula and I let out a sigh as I remember the aquamarine waters and the pristine white beaches. If I think hard enough, I can almost feel the sun on my pale skin. A fierce kick in my ribs brings me back to the present and I wince, rubbing the spot to ease the pain. Come on Bean, I think to myself, give me a break. She has been kicking me black and blue the last month and I have started to wonder if maybe the scans were wrong and we are having a boy instead. My latte arrives at the table just as Michelle arrives in a flurry of apologies for being late. “So what were you thinking of, lovely? You had the dreamiest look on your face…” Michelle
Thirty Days THE FIRST pt2
I am still huddled on the sofa in Taylor’s office while everyone deals with the fallout of the package. Needless to say, Taylor had looked at me like I was crazy when I flew into the room, shaking and barely coherent. But the moment I told him to call Henry he flew into action and now, hours later, we are still excluded from the apartment while Henry has searched the building from top to bottom. The fact that there was no postmark means that the package was brought into the building and even more worrying, is the fact that Taylor never collected it from the mailroom where our personal mail is usually left. Which means that whoever delivered the parcel brought it right up to the apartment, somehow bypassing all the extra security that Taylor had installed only a few months ago. To say Taylor is livid is the understatement of the century. “You okay, Abs?” Taylor asks softly from the doorway and I wonder how long he has been standing there. Dark shadows are etched under his eyes and e
Thirty Days THE SECOND
As I step into Bread & Cake the aroma wraps around me like a warm, comforting scarf; no one can ever feel bad when the smell of fresh croissants tickles your nose. My journey down from London this morning was a breeze for a change. I managed to get a seat thanks to my enormous baby bump and even had some time to catch Michelle up on the latest news. Needless to say, she was just as horrified by the thought that Richard seemed to be in the walls as I was. But Taylor and Henry have assured me that while the shaft apparently looked like it had been accessed on a regular basis, they had now changed the codes, as well as installed additional alarms and cameras all around. Still, I can’t help but feel like he will just find another way in. Bea, my amazing shop manager, gives me a broad smile in greeting while she loads up another basket of rolls on the shelf. It is only eight a.m. but it looks like the first batch has already sold out. A moment later Andreas comes out, wiping the flour dus
Thirty Days THE SECOND pt2
My thoughts are interrupted when suddenly there is a loud thud from above my head. Startled, I look up and see several customers looking around confused. I had thought that most of the heavy work in the flat upstairs had been completed so I am slightly worried about what could have made that noise. Bea catches my eye as she sees my expression and wanders over. “They are delivering the sofa today,” she says in explanation. “Bloody hell, Bea. I didn’t think it was big enough to make that kind of noise,” I say, making Bea chuckle at my startled expression. “I guess one of the guys must have dropped it. Do you want me to pop up and check everything is okay?” Bea asks me kindly. “Would you mind?” I ask softly and she nods, understanding my reticence about venturing upstairs before the place is finished. Mum has promised me that the place will be unrecognisable when I see it. Like a shiny penny, everything will be brand new, including the entrance, layout and furnishings so that I can
Thirty Days THE THIRD
My life appears to be all about journeys at the moment; if I am not in a car, a bus or a train at some point in the day, my life feels too static. But I guess there is also the metaphorical journey I seem to be on at the moment; trying to move forward from everything that has happened feels like wading through treacle. This morning I have woken up furious. My dreams were dominated by Hannah and Richard and the feelings of hopelessness that they elicited have made me feel out of control and that in turn has made me angry. You would have thought that after such a fantastic day yesterday, I would have woken up feeling great, but in the end the opposite is true. I close my eyes and plug in my MP3 player, losing myself in Limp Bizkit’s Break Stuff, the perfect accompaniment to my foul mood. As he shouts out about wanting to rip someone’s head off I have a clear picture in my mind of who I would like that to be. All I can say is that people don’t want to mess with me today. By the time I
Thirty Days THE THIRD pt2
Slowly the noise picks up again; all those people who were ready to come to our aid politely returning to their seats to give us some privacy. You have got to love the British; ready to rise to the occasion and then happy to politely pretend like it never happened. Moments later I feel a large arm come around the both of us and guide us into the reassuring warmth of the kitchen which is now empty, apart from Andreas’ hulking frame. A moment later Bea bustles in and hands us each a mug of sweet tea which she urges us to drink in that motherly tone of hers that she reserves for the people she loves. Nicola and I sip our tea in silence as the reality of the situation sinks in. What could be so important that Richard would risk walking into Bread & Cake to scare the crap out of his baby sister? He must realise by now how much surveillance is around the place; seriously I am pretty sure Fort Knox doesn’t even have this much security. My phone starts to ring and sure enough, it is Taylo
Thirty Days THE FOURTH
Dr Grohl sits in his usual seat, his ever-present notebook perched on his lap, a Mont Blanc pen tapping against his upper lip as I describe how I stood up to Richard in the shop yesterday. “I know if it had been just me and him things would have probably been different,” I explain. “But knowing that I had a whole roomful of people behind me made me feel like, for once, I had the power. Richard couldn’t intimidate me and, for the first time ever, I got to be the rescuer rather than needing to be rescued.” David nods his head but doesn’t speak, indicating that I should continue with a wave of his fingers. “I sometimes feel like I live in this constant state of near panic like he’s the bogeyman and I am always looking over my shoulder wondering when he is going to next jump out at me. And I can’t even escape him when I sleep,” I say with a shrug. “Are you still having nightmares?” David asks, looking concerned. “Like clockwork,” I say with a sigh. “If it’s not Richard then it’s Hanna
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