The Orchid Girls Read online

  ‘No wonder you didn’t wake up when I came in. You drank a whole bottle?’

  ‘Most of it went down the sink, once I realised it was a mistake.’

  ‘Is that why you didn’t answer the phone?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘There are unplayed messages on the answerphone. It’s sloppy. The calls could be important. Why didn’t you pick up?’

  I don’t remember hearing it ring. ‘I was listening to music.’

  ‘Right little party you were having. By yourself.’ His jaw is clenched and my head throbs.

  ‘It wasn’t like that. I can’t work all the time. It was only a couple of drinks.’

  ‘That’s exactly what you said about the other night. I can see a pattern developing here. Why would you sabotage everything we’ve been working towards?’ An expression of hurt crosses his face and my gut clenches.

  ‘Richard, please.’

  ‘I need to get to work.’ He heads back to the bedroom, and I check the message from the previous night. It’s the hospital. A man with a soft voice is telling me Michael is critically ill and I should visit soon. I feel empty.

  Richard reappears.

  ‘Michael is ill in hospital. They want me to go straight away.’

  ‘I told you it could be important.’

  His mobile rings and he looks at the screen.

  ‘Christ! What now? Hello.’ His voice is loud and he paces round in a circle. When he cuts the call, a strange expression contorts his face.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It was the police.’ He picks up his briefcase.

  ‘What do they want?’

  ‘It’s about the missing girl, Emily. They want to ask me about the time I spent with her. They must be desperate. I hardly knew her. As if I haven’t got enough to worry about.’ Richard looks away from me when he says this, catching sight of the clock. ‘Shit, I’m late now. I hope Michael is OK.’ He slams the door without kissing me goodbye.

  I sweep my arm across the kitchen counter, sending his mug crashing to the floor. It shatters and the floor is covered in milky coffee. I grind my slipper heel into a jagged piece of crockery until only shards remain. The front door rattles and I freeze, horrified. What if it’s Richard coming back and he sees what a mess I’ve made? But the noise stops and I set about cleaning the floor, heart thumping. It must be the wind.

  So Richard thinks I’m having an affair. Molly probably thinks we are too. What a mess. All my dreams of being married to the Mayor of London are blowing away like smoke. I tell myself I’ve been through worse, that I can get through this. But first, the hospital.

  Angela is speaking to a nurse in a low voice when I arrive, but when she turns and I see her stricken face, I know I am too late. Michael’s pleading eyes as he choked flash in my mind, and I put my hand on the wall to steady myself. Michael is dead.

  Shock squeezes my chest, and all I can think about is how Richard doesn’t need more hassle when his campaign is at such a crucial stage. I collapse onto a chair, barely able to breathe. I grip the armrests as my breath stutters in and out of me, and I will myself to be calm. This used to happen every time Michael hit me. Angela puts an arm around my shoulders, wiping away her tears with her free hand. She mistakes my shock for grief. But I can’t feel sad for Michael. How can I, after everything? Now I have no parents; just Richard. And no children of my own.

  ‘It was quick,’ she says, ‘he wouldn’t have known anything about it.’

  I hesitate to call Richard, but Angela insists. He doesn’t pick up and I leave a message, relieved.

  Before I leave, a nurse takes me into her office, handing me a sealed plastic bag with Michael’s few possessions in it. A watch, a wallet and his wedding ring. A wooden cross he always carried makes my breath catch in my throat.

  ‘He didn’t have his inhaler. That’s why he couldn’t breathe. Did you notice him drop it?’ Angela asks as we descend in the hospital lift. The mirror reflects my pale face and I turn my back, not wanting to look at the state I’m turning into.

  ‘No, I was in such a panic. I’m so sorry.’

  Angela bites her lip, looking as if she’s about to cry. ‘It’s just that it was so sudden.’

  Richard has calmed down when he comes in, and I tell him what happened at the hospital. Angela rings again later and Richard takes the call. He talks for a while.

  ‘I’ve told Angela I’ll take care of the funeral arrangements.’

  ‘Thanks.’ What he means is that his people will.

  ‘She mentioned the missing girl in Ash Fenton, how much it was upsetting him. You never said anything about that.’

  I shrug. ‘He didn’t know what he was saying, you know what his memory was like.’

  ‘She said he was very insistent, kept calling her Charlotte, he—’

  ‘Please, can we not do this now.’

  My voice sounds loud and he registers surprise.

  ‘I feel numb, and so guilty, because we didn’t get on. You wouldn’t understand, you’re so lucky with your parents.’

  ‘We have our moments, believe me.’

  ‘It’s not the same. They worship you. A star student, first-class degree, you’ve never disappointed them.’

  ‘And they adore you too,’ he says, rubbing my hand.

  Richard’s words don’t encourage me; they add to the pressure. If I fail I’ll let his parents down too.

  ‘About this online mess—’ I say, wanting to making things better.

  ‘Forget it. You’ve spoken to Julia, haven’t you?’

  I nod.

  ‘The argument this morning. I was disappointed in you. Staying out late, drinking. You never drink too much. Christ, you barely drink, your body is such a temple. And you’ve been smoking. Don’t deny it, I smelt it on you the other night. If you’re worrying about that woman, let me deal with it. We can’t have it affecting your career. I thought you were stronger than this.’

  ‘My dad has just died.’ I’m shocked by how harsh his words are.

  ‘I know, and I’ll support you.’ When I don’t reply, Richard pushes his chair back with a scraping sound which makes me flinch. What’s making him so restless?

  ‘How did it go with the police?’

  ‘Don’t change the subject.’

  My eyes fill with tears. ‘Everything feels so difficult.’

  ‘Are you sure there’s nothing else? You’ve not been yourself for a while now.’

  I know I’m playing with fire but my emotions get the better of me. ‘I’ve been feeling broody again.’

  Richard runs his hands through his hair, looking exasperated. ‘Not this again. You know it’s not possible right now. I thought we agreed. You can’t afford to step back from your business, not when it’s just taking off. Or it was.’ He frowns. ‘Is this what’s making you lose focus? Because if it is, Grace, we’ve got a real problem.’

  ‘I can’t help the way I feel, it’s hormonal. It’s alright for men, they don’t feel it in the same way. Men have everything easy.’

  ‘So it’s a gender thing now.’ He paces about the kitchen, eyes glaring when he speaks. ‘I’ll say this once more, OK, just so you’re clear. I’d love for us to have children at some stage, but not for at least five years. If you can’t cope with that, then God help us, our marriage is in trouble.’

  ‘Richard, no.’ I rush over to him, putting my hand on his shaking arm. He doesn’t push me away. ‘Our marriage is strong, you have to believe me. I promise I won’t mention having a baby again. I can wait, I can.’ I compose my face so he doesn’t see how my emotions are swirling inside. ‘You know how I get when I don’t sleep. That’s all it is.’

  His face is a mask of worry, but he takes my hands and I grip hard. I can’t lose him. He strokes my hair and pulls me to him, and my pulse returns to normal. This is where I belong. I can’t believe I’ve been jeopardising everything.

  ‘You’re right, you need a good sleep. I’ll make you a peppermint tea. Have you remember
ed I’m going to the charity function tomorrow night? Will you be alright on your own? I could get Mum to come over if you want. Or you could go and stay with them.’

  The thought of being alone terrifies me. ‘You don’t have to do that, I’ll be OK. If I need company I’ll sort something out. I might give Carrie a ring.’

  ‘That’s a good idea.’

  ‘You’re right, a good sleep is all I need to get back on top of things. A herbal tea sounds lovely.’

  But nothing stills my thoughts. As soon as the light is off my mind turns to Molly. If she thinks we’re having an affair, then I won’t disillusion her. I could use this to my benefit. I’ll sit it out for the next few days, until I know she’s got rid of the photograph. Then I’ll go through Michael’s possessions to check there’s nothing there. I have to get on top of all this.

  Last night was a mistake, and Richard need never know anything about it.

  As I fall asleep, I remember that Richard failed to tell me what happened at the police station. Maybe I’m not the only one with secrets.

  Grace’s Diary

  Sunday 3rd July 2005

  I’ve been Grace Martin for a year now. I’m fluent in French and I have a wonderful new group of friends: Justine, Chloe and Natalie. Fabulous girls, who think I’m lovely and say my accent is cute. We don’t wear school uniform over here and everything is more relaxed. Chloe is my best friend – special, if you get my drift – but I’m not going there again, I’m trying to keep my distance but it’s hard. I’m different now. It’s funny how easy it was to shed the old Grace, like a snake with unwanted skin. Kicked it under the bed – I’ll always know it’s there but no one else needs to. I’ve set my sights on Pierre in the terminale at school, just the right amount older than me. He’s helping me with my maths – I don’t need the help, but he doesn’t need to know that. I so want a boyfriend.

  Aunt Jenny’s taught me how to cook and I’m really into baking. I’ve got an evening shift at a boulangerie and I’m working with the pastry chef. It’s helped me decide what I want to do. I want to study the business side of catering and set up my own company. That way I’ll never have to answer to anyone else.

  Every now and then I think about it, of course I do. But it’s easier to busy myself in the kitchen, bake a batch of croissants and let the buttery smell help me forget. And there are no newspapers here, no lurid tabloids with stupid made-up headlines. I catch sight of one, occasionally, an English-language Sun or a Daily Express at the kiosk on the corner, and it chills my blood. But then I look at the River Seine, hear flutters of French conversation and smell strong cigarette smoke in the air, and none of that matters. I’m Grace Martin now.

  Saturday 5th July 2010

  Hello, diary! I’m back!! Because today is one special day. I’ve MET A GUY at last!! Boy, man, homme, mec, whatever. I won’t think about girls any more, no more secrets, no more drama. I honestly thought it was never going to happen. But it has. His name’s Richard and he’s in France for a work placement. He’s absolutely adorable. I met him in a cafe on the Boulevard St Mich and he was at the next table. He offered to buy me a coffee – he thought I was French!!! I’ve done a good job, Grace Cavendish is well and truly dead. He asked what I was smiling about and I told him I was flattered. I couldn’t possibly tell him the real reason, could I?

  Aunt Jen was pleased, but when I told her he was English she was dead against it. Warned me not to get serious. Said nothing good could come of being associated with England again. He’s the first man I’ve liked in France. Why does he have to be English??

  Being in Paris makes me a different person. There are women-only clubs in the Marais, but I’ve had enough of hiding away. Richard is my way out. He’s going places. He makes me a better me. Grace Martin doesn’t hide. She doesn’t have those shameful feelings. That dirty past. My course in business nutrition ends this year and I’ve got plans to set up my own company, maybe an English bakery eventually. I never think about HER any more. Never.

  Saturday 7th August 2010

  Richard Sutherland. I’ve seen him every day since we first met. He graduated in political science from Durham last year and he wants to be a politician. He’s here for six months before he goes back to work as an assistant to a Member of Parliament. He’s ambitious, hard-working. He likes me a lot and we have fabulous sex. I knew all along I was straight underneath. I knew I didn’t have to waste time with girls. You can’t trust them. Molly taught me that.

  But why does he have to be English??

  Wednesday 1st September 2010

  Richard is going home next week. He said he loves me. He said he doesn’t want to leave me, and we had our first row because he doesn’t understand why I can’t go back to England. I couldn’t tell him the real reason, and he couldn’t understand why. Aunt Jen is worried. So am I.

  Tuesday 2nd November 2010

  Richard’s gone. I’ve thrown myself into my apprenticeship at Patisserie Bleu and they love me. They let me do all the fancy sugar work. But I miss Richard like mad. He calls me as often as he can but he’s so busy. He asked me loads of questions about my childhood before he left. I told him something bad happened but that I won’t talk about it. Hinted at abuse, and that stopped the questions. For now.

  Sunday 1st January 2012

  Over a year, and we’re still together. I can’t quite believe it but I’ve actually been thinking about it. Going back. There’s less than a year left on my course and then I’ll be free. I haven’t told Jen because she’ll try and talk me out of it.

  It will be OK, though. Because SHE doesn’t exist to me. Molly means nothing any more. I’ve changed my name, so much time has passed and we’ll be in London, miles away from Dorset. Miles away from her and what happened.

  Monday 3rd September 2012

  Richard lost it with me today. I’ve never seen him quite like that before. It scared me, seeing him so angry. Turns out he assumed I’d move to London when my course finished. I’ve run out of excuses for staying away. He shouted at me, said I was cold and that he hated my secrets. I’m not cold, though, just careful. I can’t tell him. But I can’t lose him. What do I do? He didn’t call me for a day and by the end of it I’d made up my mind. Why shouldn’t I be with him, whatever? Why shouldn’t I lead a normal life? Why should I have to hide away? I love him, he helps me forget who I used to be. By the time he got back I was in a right state. I said I’ll think about it. That’ll put Aunt Jenny’s head into an absolute spin.

  Wednesday 9th January 2013

  Richard’s New Year’s Resolution is to get me over the Channel. And I’m seriously thinking about it. My business is doing OK, but it’s a tough market here. It’s easier to visualise the range of healthy products I dream about working on over there. The French love their own culture and cuisine too much. They’re so traditional, and they seem resistant to listening to an English girl. I want so much to be a success, to prove myself. I tell myself that I have to stop being so cautious. It was all such a long time ago. It’s different now. I can start again. Can’t I?

  Friday 7th September 2013

  Richard has asked me to marry him!! He came over on the Eurostar and whisked me off to a posh hotel on the Champs-Élysées. He proposed on one knee. Just like in the movies. God, it was romantic. But then he said he’s sick of us being long distance, and I had to choose. He meant it, too. I’ve seen that side of him when he wants something. Ruthless.

  The restaurant he picked has a waiting list that lasts for months. The food was divine. Only the richest and most sophisticated people go there – I didn’t realise he was that wealthy. Made me think about my lifestyle, about the life I want to lead. I belonged there. That’s the crowd I want to be part of. Grace Sutherland deserves only the best.

  Richard’s career is taking off and he wants me to be part of it. He’s worked everything out, now my business is online I can do it anywhere. He says it will fly in England. He believes in me, wants us both to build our careers together. The
sky’s the limit, he said. And he’s found a gorgeous flat for us by a canal in London. There’s nothing keeping me here except for the risk. Aunt Jen is resigned, and I’ve told her I won’t contact Michael. That I’ll keep the past in the past. When I change my name again there’s nothing to connect me with Dorset. I can’t wait to be Mrs Sutherland. Jen says what about HER, but what are the chances of our paths crossing? She won’t find me in London. She must have forgotten about me by now, anyway. Richard hangs around with a crowd of people so different to how we used to be. Important people, who are going places. I’ve moved on and up. I couldn’t be further from the silly girl she used to know. She wouldn’t even recognise me.

  Sometimes late at night fear creeps into bed with me but I’m getting better at learning to control it. I practise yoga now, meditate daily and eat only the best food. I do everything to better myself. Grace Sutherland will be the perfect wife.

  I've booked my ticket.

  Sunday 15th June 2014

  This is my last entry in this diary as Grace Martin. I’m Grace Sutherland now. Once, twice, three times a lady. I love signing my name, saying it aloud. Mrs Grace Sutherland. New husband, new flat, new business. New me. A new, clean life.

  I’m in London! Six months today, new city. I’ve done loads of research for my business, and clean eating is BIG here. It’s made for me. Everything about me will be pure, holistic. Cleansed inside and out. This will suit my philosophy of a whole new Grace. A perfect Grace.

  Introducing ‘Clean Grace’ – my new registered company. Richard’s father gave me the money to set up my business. His parents love Grace Sutherland.