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THE TENTH pt2
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Thirty Days THE ELEVENTH
My first thought, when I wake up to the light streaming through the windows, is that I have hideously overslept and that I am going to be late. But then my subconscious reminds me that my appointment with Dr Grohl is actually this afternoon and instead, and I am teaching a baking class at the clinic this morning instead. I feel a smile stretching across my face and a small ball of nervous excitement begins to form in my belly. Bean spent the night dancing on my bladder so I didn’t get the best night’s sleep ever, but I do seem to be in the process of learning how to sleepwalk to the bathroom. Funny, these were the little things my mother warned me about and I had dismissed them thinking in my naiveté that nah, they wouldn’t happen to me. Oh, how wrong I was. A glance at the clock tells me that I need to get a move on so I hop out of bed and concentrate on finding something suitable to wear. I finally settle on a comfy pair of charcoal leggings, one of Taylor’s white shirts and a pai
Thirty Days THE TWELVETH
“Darling, this place looks superb,” Genevieve says as I pour out some tea from the white china pot in front of me. The day is awash with the showers that April is so famous for, casting dull shadows around my little garden. Thankfully the discreet up-lighters in each corner of the room brighten up what would otherwise feel like very dreary surroundings, despite the aromatic flora scenting the air. “Thank you,” I respond. “Though, of course, I didn’t know anything about this little surprise. Taylor and my mum cooked up this one all on their own.” I watch as Genevieve nods slightly, the knowing look on her face giving me the impression that she might have been in on the surprise as well. “Though maybe they had a little help?” I ask arching my eyebrow questioningly as suddenly I am flooded with the memory of standing in Genevieve’s orangery surrounded by an altogether too familiar smell. “The frangipani tree,” I gasp. “That’s why it seemed so familiar. It's from your house.” Genevieve
Thirty Days THE THIRTEENTH
The sun has barely made it above the horizon when I finally drag myself out of bed. I spent hours tossing and turning, Genevieve’s words playing over and over in my mind until I wanted to weep. Maybe it is my hormones, or maybe the pain in her words just permeated my subconscious, but I can’t help but empathise with the woman who tried to do the right thing on multiple occasions yet still carries the guilt of others on her shoulders. I pad through to the kitchen, my movements sluggish with the lack of sleep. Pulling the carton of milk from the fridge I pour some into a mug before heating it up in the microwave. A couple of spoonfuls of cocoa and a sprinkle of sugar and I have my ultimate go-to comfort drink. A dash of cinnamon gives it a final twist and I take a sip, letting out a sigh before I curl up on the sofa trying to shrug off my unease. It also doesn’t help that today Taylor is giving evidence at Hannah’s trial, something that was weighing on my mind throughout the night. He
Thirty Days THE THIRTEENTH pt2
The view across the rooftop towards St. Paul’s Cathedral is stunning as the sun begins to set. I am sat in a restaurant called Madison which is at eye level with the building’s iconic dome and, if I turn my head, I also catch glimpses of the London Eye and The Shard, one of London’s newest landmarks. I find myself appreciating the blend of old and new as I glance at the horizon; it shouldn’t work, but actually, it does and for the umpteenth time I find myself grateful to be able to experience such a unique city. Less than five minutes walk away you can find the remains of the old Roman wall that once surrounded the original city right next to the Barbican, one of London’s many cultural icons. Wherever you turn ancient nestles with modern making this city, in my opinion, one of the greatest in the world. My original plan had been to surprise Taylor by picking him up outside of the Old Bailey, but things were running late at the Central Criminal Court so Henry promised to get him deliv
Thirty Days THE THIRTEENTH pt3
I paste on a sultry look as I stalk towards Taylor, who is sitting in a high back chair, checking out his phone. He glances up and I find myself smirking as he does a double-take. “Why Mrs Hudson, you look good enough to eat,” Taylor says. “That was kind of the idea, Mr Hudson,” I respond in a seductive tone as I come to stand in front of the chair and sink to my knees. As I reach forward to untuck the light blue shirt from his pants, I hear Taylor’s sharp intake of breath. I slide a cool hand underneath his shirt, running my fingers across the muscles rippling beneath my touch. “Fuck me,” Taylor groans as I run a finger under the waistband of his pants. “Oh, I will, Taylor. You can be sure of that.” I say, my tone low and earnest. I get to my feet and position myself between Taylor’s spread legs, He reaches forward and grabs onto my hips before burying his face in the swell of my breasts. His fingers squeeze my nipples and he lays a trail of open-mouthed kisses across the delicate
Thirty Days THE FOURTEENTH & THE FIFTEENTH
You can only ever put off reality for so long; no matter how many distractions you throw in its face, real life always has a habit of intruding. When I woke, it was to find a brooding Taylor staring at his phone like he wanted to put his fist through the wall. When he saw me watching him, he quickly slipped on a mask but I wasn’t fooled; we needed to address whatever happened in court yesterday.Friday the thirteenth…unlucky for some, horrific for Taylor. It was a day of questioning that bordered on interrogation and saw the Defence try to paint a picture where Taylor deliberately lied and fooled Hannah and encouraged Richard to play mind games with her until she was so terrified that she felt her only option to escape the Hudson madness was fake her own death. Stranger still, the Defence tried to imply that Taylor’s identification of the body under the bus, even though he only ever identified Hannah’s bag at the scene, was somehow part of an elab
Thirty Days THE SIXTEENTH
I let out a groan. The phone call was not unexpected, but even so, the reality that I am being called to testify tomorrow is something I would have rather put off for a few more days. My day is consumed with mundane work-related tasks that fill the hours but do nothing to ease the tension in my mind. Taylor suggested staying in London tonight as we are prepping with the lawyers again first thing in the morning so my last task of the day is to pack an overnight bag.I have been debating for days what to wear to the trial. I knew nothing I had was suitable so had picked up a few dresses that I thought would be okay when I was up in London for my surprise date night with Taylor. In the end, I settle on a green, stretchy jersey dress with capped sleeves and a knot above my bump which seems business-like but is still comfortable enough to wear for a full day in court. I add a pair of low nude pumps to my bag and a light cardigan just in case I get chilly. I feel like I am gett
Thirty Days THE SEVENTEENTH
Oh. My. God. Oh, my god. This is actually happening. I am physically shaking as I walk through the impressive entrance to The Old Bailey, otherwise known as the Central Criminal Court. I couldn’t help but stand outside in awe for a few moments taking in Lady Justice and her scales as the carving with the words over the entrance ‘Defend the children of the poor & punish the wrongdoer’ resonated in my mind. This iconic building has been immortalised in film and TV making it seem familiar even though I have never stepped foot in here before.The building’s dome makes me think of St Paul’s Cathedral, which is only a short walk away but when I step through the entrance, the reverent quiet I am expecting is absent. Instead, people in wigs and gowns hurry through the groups of people milling around. I can see a couple of journalists and I duck my head down, hoping to avoid being seen. Emelia, who is leading the Prosecution’s case, qu
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