Page 32 of Save Us
Chapter 13
Beth
I don’t think I’m ever going to wake up in this room without feeling thoroughly disorientated. I’m not sure why, but the swirling patterns of the wallpaper are every bit as creepy as the stuff decorating the master bedroom back in New York. It reminds me of a book my mother had had to read at university, about a woman sinking into the depths of madness when her husband locks her away. It doesn’t end well for the woman in ‘The Yellow Wallpaper’, and now I am staring at my own paper. Its taunting vines look as though they are threatening to squeeze the life and soul out of me until I’m a quivering mess of insanity too.
Before I let it drag me in any further into its suffocating pattern, I force myself to snap out of the downward spiral by crawling out of my bed and throwing open the curtains to let the sunshine in. Perhaps it will hit me with some vitamin D and lift my spirits, even if just a little. It works for a moment or two and I begin to smile, but then I remember it’s only a matter of days before my husband, the one who put me in hospital not long ago, comes back to claim me again. His words, ‘I’ll chain you to the bed until you give birth’ echo through my head, and I feel myself shrinking back again.
“You ready for breakfast, Beth?” Leo calls through barely a crack in the door, as if afraid of seeing something he shouldn’t. Fortunately for him, I’m now in a state to be able to wear a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that Elsie had kindly bought for me yesterday. My grandfather had clearly disapproved when she presented them to me, but, strangely, said nothing. There is an odd rapport between them, one I haven’t yet figured out. There is no affection, no touching, and is more akin to a professional relationship between colleagues than a personal one.
Leo clears his throat, snapping me out of my lost thoughts and prompting me to tell him to come in, which he does so with a warm smile on his face. I think he knows I’m starting to struggle with the upcoming return of my husband and has taken to treading extra carefully around me. Even though I find it hard, I pretend to be ok, to be vaguely happy, and plaster on a fake smile for him. Of course, he’s so in tune with me now, he knows when I am being insincere, and releases a sigh that tells me as much.
“Give me one minute,” I finally reply to his earlier question, putting up my finger and pointing toward where I’d hidden Kai’s phone.
We shuffle into my bathroom where I scrape my hair up into a slobbish style, one that I would never get away with in Oliver’s presence, while Leo digs around in a drawer full of sanitary products. The idea being that such a drawer might put off anyone like my grandfather, from rummaging around any further.
When he hands it over, I switch it on to see the envelope icon flashing up at me.
“Leo, there’s a message from an unknown number!” I whisper shout with a fearful look on my face.
“Really? Perhaps Kai has a new phone or something. Read it.”
We both look over the small object like it’s a ticking timebomb, just waiting for something else to blow up in my face.
I will be calling you at 11am. Make sure you are safe when I do.
I look at Leo, who appears to be just as confused as I do, perhaps even more so. We both know it’s not from my overly affectionate friend, Kai, because leader of a gang or not, he is still overly generous with his kisses at the end of messages.
“God, you don’t think it’s that weird guy I met at the park, do you? Or a trap set by Oliver?” I throw my hand over my mouth and gasp just over the thought of such a thing. Leo and I know it’s only a matter of time before Oliver’s temper sends me to the morgue.
“No idea,” he replies unhelpfully, “are you going to answer it?” All I can manage is a quick nod before tapping away rather ineptly with my trembling fingers.
Who is this?
He watches me write, delete, and rewrite several times before I decide on the final message. I keep it simple, just in case, it is someone from Mayfield. With just three impersonal words, I can still deny all knowledge of any interaction between me and…anyone really.
An enemy of Mayfield. Maybe a friend to you?
Acting rash, I tap out my next response and send it without even consulting the burly man standing behind me. I’m too curious to even think straight.
Speak to you at 11.
My mind is whirling away over the infinite number of questions currently forming inside of my head, all of which are about this stranger who is trying to contact me through Kai’s phone. Agreeing to talk with him could be one huge mistake, a fateful one, but I’m too intrigued. Besides, given the fact my life is already unbearable on the best of days, why should I not take hold of this chance.
I’m more than convinced that Leo disapproves of my choice to talk to this unknown contact, for he’s been giving me frequent looks of concern the entire time. He and I have become very close over the last five years, and I know he worries about every little thing to do with me, including my general safety and staying alive. He tried to argue as much on our way down to breakfast, but I silenced him with a look; one that begged him to treat me like an adult and not the mindless ornament that I’m expected to be.
Once inside my grandfather’s ostentatious dining room, Elsie is up and greeting us with her usual chirpy smile, the one so far removed from all that is Mayfield, it still has me stumped as to why she is with Carl of all people. I’d like to think her friendly manner is genuine, however, after years of living in fear and suspicion of everyone around me, bar Pru and Leo, I no longer rely on gut instinct alone. Instead, I always err on the side of caution.
Having said that, I find myself feeling unusually brave this morning. After all, I’ve just agreed to talk to a complete stranger on a phone which I’m definitely not supposed to have. Not to mention, I’m staying in my grandfather’s house, a man so morally corrupt, he shot his own son in the head. So, with all that in mind, I decide to take another risk and reach out to Elsie, which will probably cause even more anxiety to my already frustrated bodyguard.
“Elsie, would you take a walk around the gardens with me this morning?” I ask politely. “Leo must be bored of my girly chitchats, bless him.”
“Why I would love to, dear,” she beams back at me, looking a little shocked that I would ask her to do such a thing.
I smile my thanks to her and begin to eat my breakfast, just as my grandfather steps inside to have his morning plateful of bacon, eggs, and other fried food that will no doubt be clogging up his arteries. I can’t help sneering as he shovels each mouthful into his pompous mouth, while secretly hoping it brings him that much closer to a cardiac arrest. He shot my best friend’s lover, abused my grandmother, and is forcing me to return to my husband’s psychotic clutches.
Beth, four years ago
“From what I heard,” Pru tells me as we take a stroll around Central Park in the drizzle and evening fog, “your grandfather became obsessed with Rosalie when he first set eyes on her. She was only fourteen at the time; they had met briefly at one of your great grandmother’s lavish parties.”