Annabel managed a solid four hours of exhausted sleep before the terror of another nightmare woke them both.
Good luck.
Annabel read the text message that came through from Aidan. Even though he was busy in Ireland he apparently could still find time to remember, almost to the very minute, her appointment today.
His thoughtfulness made something warm and cosy unfurl within her chest; a sensation that felt much scarier than it sounded, especially as it seemed to be happening more and more often, and there was no way for her to control or protect herself from it.
Thanks, she sent in reply before switching the phone to silent and sliding it back into the bag sitting on her lap. Clasping her hands together atop the leather, she aimed her gaze at the framed print of a generic pastel landscape on the wall opposite. This wasn’t the time or place to let thoughts of Aidan Flynn unsettle her nerves.
Because, much to her own surprise, this was the second time in as many weeks she’d found herself waiting in the carefully decorated blandness of her local Victim Support offices. Following the sneaky ambush Aidan had sprung on the night he’d come to pick her up from her flat, she’d known that neither he nor her mother would give up on the subject of getting the help they thought she needed for her nightmares. She’d figured the easiest way to get them off her back, or to stop them going behind it and setting up something themselves, was to agree to make an appointment.
By taking the initiative, at least she got to stay in charge and make the choices that seemed right for herself. And, after weighing up various options, she’d decided that the Victim Support service sounded most suited to her needs, not least because the terminology they used sounded so normal. There was no counselling this, or therapist that, no sessions, nothing to imply that she was in any way mentally weak or unstable. There were just nice, straightforward-sounding visits with volunteers.
Aidan had insisted on delivering her here for her first visit, which she found pretty hypocritical of him considering the way he went on about her supposed issues with trust. But again, for the sake of getting this whole unnecessary exercise over and done with as quickly and easily as possible, she’d decided to go along with it, even though it had meant cutting off any chance she’d had of ducking out. She’d figured she’d only need to get through an hour, after all, to satisfy everyone’s concern. After that she’d insist that one session was enough and she could regain control of her life. And not a moment too soon. It seemed she was doing a lot of giving in to other people’s demands, all of a sudden.
In the event, giving into this particular demand had turned out nowhere near as bad as she’d feared. She’d been introduced to Susan, a friendly, practical woman of around her own age whose fashion sense ran to smart urban without a string of hippy beads or pair of woven hemp sandals in sight. Thankfully, there’d been none of the touchy-feely New Age jargon she’d been dreading either.
Nevertheless, walking into the meeting room she’d been as uncomfortable as she’d ever been. No doubt sensing Annabel’s initial reticence from her stiff, monosyllabic answers, Susan had allowed her time to unbend by turning the spotlight on herself. Filling what would otherwise have been a series of awkward silences with a little of her own background, she’d explained that she was also a survivor of an assault, who’d been inspired to become a volunteer after the help she’d received from the service.
Annabel had been surprised enough by Susan’s candid manner to forget about her own self-consciousness long enough to start talking. And once she’d started, it turned out she had quite a bit to say. Verbalising the events of the attack hadn’t caused anywhere near as much upset or panic as she’d envisaged. In fact, taking the time to inspect the half-hazy memories in order to lay them out in sequence actually helped her view them more calmly, feel more in control. That’s why, when her hour had ended before she’d known it and Susan had asked whether she’d like to make another appointment, she’d agreed to come back.
It had all been surprisingly easy. As was her budding ‘go slow’ relationship with Aidan, despite all his overbearing tendencies. A part of her at least was beginning to recognise that he did things because he cared, and an even smaller part was beginning to learn to grudgingly accept that. Used as she was to being alone, it wasn’t always easy, but, with Aidan’s unique brand of ruthless patience, she felt she might eventually get there.
Between her work commitments and Aidan’s numerous trips to Ireland, they’d found the opportunity to squeeze in a few more dates over the past couple of weeks. They’d ticked the boxes marked ‘dinner’ and ‘show’ and had even been ice-skating. And the week after next, to coincide with her scheduled double day off work and Aidan’s return from his latest trip to Ireland, they were graduating to a night away.
‘Annabel?’ At the sound of her name she looked up to see Susan making her way across the waiting room with a warm smile. ‘Lovely to see you again. Would you like to come through?’
Noting the short, printed skirt teamed with a great-fitting cashmere sweater and knee-high black suede boots, all of which reaffirmed her first impression of young, fashionable, normal, Annabel felt the nervousness she’d been trying to ignore suddenly ease. She stood and shook the proffered hand. She could do this.
* * *
A fortnight later, Annabel and Aidan set out from London in weather that, for a late March morning, was glorious. An early spring sun shone down from a cloudless, powder-blue sky, lending an unseasonable warmth to the air.
With the heat of that sun on her shoulders, and the wind tugging at the ends of her braided hair, Annabel felt lighter, happier than she could remember being in … well, in far too long.
It wasn’t only the bright weather lifting her spirits, she knew. It was also the bike that surged powerfully beneath her, the sense of freedom and excitement the sleek black and chrome Triumph Thunderbird inspired as it sped her away from her everyday life.
And, yes, being wrapped around the fine, leather-clad figure of Aidan Flynn definitely didn’t hurt. Closing her eyes against the outer-city scenery streaming by, she tightened her hold around his waist and nestled closer against his back, resting her helmeted head between the blades of his broad shoulders. With the world shut out, it was easy to feel every movement he made – each breath inflating his chest, every shift of weight pulling the flat planes of his stomach taut as he navigated skilfully through the mid-morning traffic with a natural confidence that left her feeling relaxed, trusting. Not only was Aidan Flynn irresistibly sex-on-a-stick lickable, he was starting to feel … safe.
He was also a man of his word. Keeping to his promise of dating her properly, he’d arranged a night away in a luxury country-house spa hotel somewhere near the city of Bath. In honour of the occasion – a first for her – she’d bought a new dress and swimsuit, which were currently stowed with the rest of her gear in one of the bike’s panniers.
Joining the M4 motorway, they left London behind at speed. They stopped after about an hour for coffee and refuelled before resuming their journey on more scenic A and B roads.
It had been a while since she’d been outside the capital, and more than twenty years since she’d ventured so far to the South West. As much as she enjoyed the journey and sightseeing, she was so looking forward to being wined and dined and pampered that she found herself counting down the miles on the road signs they passed.
When they reached a major roundabout and continued past the first exit signposted to Bath, she guessed they were drawing near to their destination. However, when they merged onto a fast-moving A road heading north, and sped along it towards Gloucester, a new alertness started to seep into her carefree mood.
Where exactly were they headed? Thinking back on their discussions, she realised she had no idea of the specifics beyond Aidan’s vague