Second Life

And then, suddenly, I feel myself collapse inwards. It’s as if I’m disappearing, reducing to nothing. ‘Julia!’ says Hugh. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes. Excuse me,’ I manage, and then I’m heading upstairs, into the bathroom.

When I return A

‘We should head off!’ he’s saying. He turns to me. ‘We thought we’d go to Soho. Maybe a jazz bar. Ro

I say no. I’m numb. I just want all of this to stop.

‘You go if you like,’ says Hugh. ‘I’m far too tired …’

I feel a wave of guilt as I picture the two of them there. What have I done to my friend? What might still happen?

‘No. It’s late. I should turn in, too …’

‘Oh, come on,’ says A

‘I really don’t mind, darling,’ says Hugh.

‘No!’ I speak a little too harshly, then turn back to A

They stand and we all move into the hallway. A

I look over to Lukas. He’s smiling, waiting for my answer.

‘Of course I will. I’m seeing you on Saturday, anyway. But I’ll call before then. Soon. Later. Okay?’ She releases me. I want to hold on to her, to tell her to be careful, to warn her, but I don’t want to frighten her. In any case, Lukas is stepping forward.

‘Well. It was great to meet you. I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to upset you.’ For the briefest moment I think he’s talking about the attack, but then I realize he’s talking about Kate.

‘I’m not upset.’ I hold out my hand. The last thing I want is for him to touch me, but it wouldn’t be right for me to avoid him so obviously. ‘You, too.’ He takes my hand and pulls me towards him; I realize he means to embrace me, as if we’ve bonded, as if we’re now best friends. I don’t want to feel him, feel his body, and I resist. But he’s powerful. He hugs me tight, then kisses me. First one cheek, then the other. I can feel the muscles of his chest; despite everything I can’t help the barest fluttering of desire. He holds me for a moment, and I freeze. I’m hollow, scooped out. I’m aware that A

He whispers into my ear. ‘Tell her and I’ll kill you.’ I feel cold, paralysed, but then a moment later he lets go. He smiles at me once more, then takes A

‘It’s been so great to meet you!’ he says, and then they both turn away and, with another flurry of smiles and waves, Hugh and I are on our own.

Chapter Twenty-Six

I close the door. I hear Lukas and A

But they aren’t. His final words still ring in my ears.

I turn to Hugh. He’s standing behind me, where he’d said goodbye to our guests. He hasn’t moved. ‘What on earth has got into you?’ He’s speaking quietly, so that only I can hear, but his tone is one of fury.

I can’t let him know. I can’t have him suspecting. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ I go into the living room.

He follows me. ‘What was that all about?’

I pick up a plate, a glass.

‘What?’

‘I know it’s a

I can’t even begin to tell him the truth.

‘I’m just … I just get sick of it. You know? She hasn’t passed on, she hasn’t gone to a better place. She was murdered. That guy hit her over the head, with God knows what, until her skull caved in and she bled to death on the ground in an alleyway in … in … fucking Paris.’

He takes a step towards me. I can see he’s trying to calm down now, to be placatory. ‘Darling, I know you’re angry, but that was no reason to take it out on our guest. And think of Co

‘Hugh. For God’s sake!’

I’m shaking, he can see how upset I am; I don’t want him even to suspect what it’s about. I don’t want him to co

I take a deep breath, close my eyes. I try to take myself out of my anger.

‘Look, I’m sorry.’

He smiles, but it’s a sad smile.

‘You’re not all right, Julia.’ I know where this is going.

‘Don’t start, Hugh!’ I turn to face him, trembling with rage, my heart hammering as though it’s about to explode.

‘I just—’ he begins and I turn round, slam out of the living room, storm up the stairs. I know Co

I get to the bedroom and close the door. I stand still, paralysed. I don’t know what to do. I hear him follow me, stand at the top of the stairs.

I have to warn A

‘Julia?’

‘I’m fine!’ I shout. ‘Just give me a minute. Please.’

I think again of what he said. I’ll kill you. I feel the bruises on my back, my arms, my thighs; they begin to pulse again, as if they were still fresh. I remember what he did to me in that hotel room, how he made me feel. I feel used; used and then discarded.

But kill me? He can’t have meant it.

I hear Hugh retreat. I try to calm down. I tell myself that Kate’s killer is in custody but, over and over, the thought keeps coming back. He did it. They’ve made a mistake. They’ve got the wrong guy.

My mind will not be still, will not be rational. This is what he’s done to me. This is how low he’s brought me. I’m rejecting all sense.

My heart hammers. I remember logging on to Facebook, navigating to his page. I’d scrolled back to the photos of him in Australia, in Sydney, in front of Uluru. The dates tallied. I clicked on his friends, the ones he was with, and saw they’d posted more pictures from that holiday. One of him on a beach, another in which he’s surfing, a third of him snorkelling off a boat. The evidence had been there.

If he had anything at all to do with Kate’s death, then half of his friends must’ve been in on it.

I feel my breathing go back to normal. He’s not a killer, just a nasty piece of work. Scaring me because he knew my sister had been killed. Maybe it’s his revenge, for ending it, for ru

There must be a way to warn my friend. I pick my phone up from the bedside table and scroll quickly through to A

I picture them. She’ll be under him, kissing him as he enters her, ru

Or maybe she’ll be cowering, in terror, a bruise already forming.

A wave of nausea hits me and I swallow it down. I have to believe he loves her. I have to. Their relationship is genuine; he’s just someone who saw a photo of me – perhaps the one that A