Page 7 of Savage Obsession

I’m not shifting, but still he persists. In the meantime, he’s pretty much invited himself to move in here. He spends most nights in my bed and sees no problem in wandering around half-naked, even when Lily is here. I’ve asked him not to, it makes her uncomfortable, but he simply laughs and says she’ll get used to him, it’s just his way.

That’s what the row was about, that night before Lily disappeared. Apparently, he walked in on her in the bath and couldn’t seem to grasp why she was so upset. He only needed his razor, he insisted, he was in and out in no time, hardly even saw anything.

Lily was distraught and begged me to tell him not to come round anymore. Maybe I should have, at least until everything calmed down again, but Gerek simply sneered at the notion. He called her a spoilt brat who needed to learn some respect. He pointed out that she was getting in trouble at school, had been for months, and was in need of a bit of discipline.

She’s not been the same since she came across the stash of her father’s birthday and Christmas cards that I’d hidden under my bed. Gerek shoved them out the first night he stayed over when he was looking for somewhere to keep his golf clubs and never thought to put them back. That caused a row at the time. Lily accused me of hiding them on purpose, which was true, obviously, though I convinced myself it had been for her own good, to avoid unnecessary confusion. But I thought things had settled again and I agreed to let her keep them.

Gerek thinks she’s being difficult, a typical stroppy teenager in need of a father figure. He insists he’s the man for the job.

Lily clearly has other ideas. She can’t stand to be in the same room as him. I’m not about to let my social life be dictated by a twelve-year-old, but neither can I ride roughshod over her feelings. So, we stay in our own house, Gerek hangs around as much as he can, and I do what I can to keep the peace.

The morning after the bathroom incident, Lily was gone. She packed a bag, raided the fridge for snacks, and disappeared before Gerek and I were up. I spent the day phoning her, and all her friends, but no one had a clue where she could have gone. She’s not returned even one of my calls, no text or anything. I only thought of contacting her father after I checked my desk and found her passport was missing. A quick thumb through the cards he sent, and I found his address on Tenerife, so I have to assume she’s seen that, too. And I can’t think of anywhere else abroad she might go.

I wasn’t sure how she could afford a plane ticket, until I checked and found her savings account book was missing. Baz has put money into it every Christmas and every birthday, It’s a tidy sum.

Phoning him was an act of pure desperation, and I never expected him to actually come home. Baz Bartosz is about as far from a family man as I could imagine. He sends money, plenty of it, and has continued to pay the rent on our house without fail, but that’s just cash, and he has that in abundance.

Gerek likes to flaunt his wealth, but I suspect Baz could buy and sell him several times over. Not that any of that impresses me. I never wanted my husband’s money. I wanted him. His time, his attention.

I wanted him to love me. But he didn’t, and that’s what I can never forgive.

I turn to face Gerek. “Believe me, you need to not be here when he arrives. I’ve no idea what time his flight is, but he could arrive at any time. Go and get dressed. I’ll let you know when he’s gone.”

He scowls at me. “Don’t be ridiculous. He needs to understand, you’ve moved on. He should just be glad someone’s looking out for his kid.”

I’m incredulous. “The kid who’s been missing for days? That kid?”

“You can’t blame me for that. You should have been firmer and not let her run wild. She’s just attention-seeking.”

“Well, it’s working. She has my full attention now.”

“Which is more than I can say for me.” His features take on that petulant look I’ve come to recognise. “You need to stop fretting about that stroppy little madam and worry about how I’m feeling, being ordered out of here like some stray dog.”

I can only gape. Has he no idea? No concept at all?

“She’s twelve,” I repeat. “She could be dead in a ditch for all you care.”

He mutters something. It sounds suspiciously like ‘chance would be a fine thing’.

I lose it. Utterly and completely fucking lose it. I fling my half-empty coffee mug at him, narrowly missing his head. “Get out. Get out of my fucking house and don’t come back.”

“You need to calm down. You’re being irrational, as usual. I think?—”

“Do I look as though I give a flying fuck what you think?” I scream at him. I can’t believe I’ve put up with his arrogant, self-obsessed shit this long. “Stay or go, just please yourself as long as you stay out of my face. Baz will turf you out soon enough.”

His lip curls in a sneer. “That illiterate thug? I’ll have him arrested if he tries.”

“Yeah. Right.” I shoulder my way past him. “Get some bloody clothes on.”

He takes my advice, eventually. A couple of hours later I hear the front door go, followed by the sound of his car in the drive. I watch the taillights disappear round the corner, then I go and check the bedroom. My heart sinks when I see his stuff still strewn everywhere. He has no intention of making himself scarce.

Right. I grab a bin liner and start piling it in. It takes me four bags and over an hour, but eventually my space is free of his shit which I’ve dragged outside and dumped in the garden. Even the golf clubs and the games console he’s so fond of.

I hope it bloody rains.

CHAPTER 3

Baz

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