Page 20 of Forever Mr Black

Every muscle in my body tenses at the sound of the past calling my name. I look round wildly.

Panic morphs into fear, and I’m paralysed, rooted to the spot. Theo stands a few yards in front of me. When I don’t reply, he takes a step forward, shifting beneath the glow of the streetlamp. He’s not as athletically built as Art but matches him in height. His black trousers and jacket mean he blends easily into the night. The only colour comes from his corn-blond hair, which is longer on top and fashionably messy. Faint blond scruff adorns his jaw. He looks in better shape than the last time I saw him, and he’s lost weight. Abstinence must be suiting him. That is, of course, if what he wrote in the letter is true.

His eyes fix on me as he takes another step forward.

This time, I match it with a step back and tighten my grip around my handbag to stem the trembling in my hands. Him being this close to me makes me a bundle of nerves. I’m not letting him see that though. I’m determined not to let him have that victory.

“It’s good to see you.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Did you get my letter?”

“I said, what are you doing here?” I snap.

“I said in my letter, I’d like to speak to you, meet you, talk things through …”

My initial fear gives way to anger. “Yeah, and meeting me would involve a mutual agreement, wouldn’t it, not just turning up at fucking midnight? And why the hell would I want to see you?”

Theo drops his head and kicks the heel of his black boot across the pavement. “I still care about you.”

A short, sharp laugh of disbelief falls from my lips. “You’re fucking delusional.”

“Now, now, Sophie. There’s no need for bad language.”

His patronising tone grates on me. This is exactly how he used to speak to me when we were together. Like he knew best.

“Fuck you,” I say on purpose. “I’ve nothing to say. Leave.”

His gaze hardens. “I said in my letter how sorry I am for what I did. I know I’ve not been an angel, but I’ve never killed a man.”

My blood turns to ice in my veins. He can’t be referring to what I think he’s referring to. He can’t possibly know.

I force my voice to remain calm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A familiar look of irritation flashes in his eyes. “He’s Art Black, isn’t he? Quite the catch, by all accounts. Apart from that time he got pissed up and killed that guy. Drunk drivers, eh? Bastards.” His thin lips break out into an evil smile. “That must have been a bit of a blow when he told you. Given what happened to your dad, eh, Soph?”

A feeling of renewed panic grips me. How could he possibly know about Art’s past? Art said that had all been hushed up.

Theo takes another step forward, and I shift back. I don’t want him coming any closer. My eyes dart to my car across the road. If I make a dash for it, his long legs are bound to catch me, and I’ll never get there in time. He’s standing in between me and the apartment. I’m stuck.

“You’re happy to shack up with a killer, but you won’t spare me the time of day. You’ve known this guy for five minutes. We were together four years.”

“Art’s nothing like you. At least he’s never hurt me.”

His body stiffens at my retort. “Yeah, you’re right; he’s nothing like me. I’m not a killer. I thought old Martin and Sue deserved to know the truth, but they weren’t having any of it.” He shakes his head in mock disappointment. “I did try to warn them.”

My hands ball into fists at the mention of my parents. He always knows which buttons to push. “You leave them alone. Don’t you dare contact them again. Don’t you dare come here again either.”

He smirks in the knowledge that he’s getting to me. “Why not? I’m not doing anything wrong. We’re just having a chat. Nothing more, sweetheart.”

“I’m not your fucking sweetheart,” I hiss. “And don’t play the innocent with me. You’ve sent me a letter; you’ve turned up where I live. This is bloody harassment, and if I see you again, I’ll call the police.” Adrenaline has taken over fear and panic. I’m furious. How dare he reappear in my life now and try to mess things up for me.

The evil smile on his face dissolves at my threat. “Have you ever heard of the six degrees of separation theory?”

He’s insane.

“No? There’s a theory that says everyone on the planet is connected to every other person through a chain of acquaintances with no more than five links. I find it quite comforting. See, you’ve spent these past three years thinking you cut me out of your life when, really, we’re still linked.” He shakes his head. “Even if you don’t realise it.”

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