Page 17 of Amber's Fall

I then made a cup of tea. My hands shook, but I needed the warmth. As soon as I sat on the sofa, the telephone rang. I looked at it, not answering. After ten rings, it stopped, only to start again. That went on for about an hour. By the end, I was curled up in a ball on the bed and sobbing. I should have left it off the hook. I should have called the police, but I was so confused, I just didn’t think straight.

I didn’t go to work the following day; I called in sick. Bill asked me what was wrong, and I put it down towomen’s problems. Usually that stopped any further chat, but he asked me if I wanted Tania to call by. I declined his kind offer, disconnected the call, and pulled my duvet up over my head.

I didn’t see Andrew the following day, or the one after. In fact, I didn’t see him for the entire week. It was the following Friday that I felt okay to go back to work. No one said anything and everyone was pleasant, but I knew they knew. I’d done what I could to conceal the bruising, but nothing would hide the swelling. I had cups of tea made for me, cake bought, and sandwiches placed on my desk at lunch time. I wanted to cry at their kindness, and I appreciated their silence. I wasn’t up to answering questions.

CHAPTERNINE

It wason the Sunday that I decided to take a walk around the local park. I’d worked all day Friday and Saturday to catch up and needed some fresh air. When I got back, my heart sank in my chest. Sitting on the doorstep with an enormous bunch of flowers was Andrew. He looked dishevelled, like he hadn’t slept. His eyes were red rimmed. He stood as I approached.

“I’m sorry. So so sorry. I won’t take up much of your time, because I know I don’t deserve it, but I wanted to give you these.”

He thrust the flowers into my chest.

“I don’t want flowers,” I said, quietly. I didn’t want to rile him.

“Then I’ll give them away. But please just hear me out. I’m going to counselling. I’ve booked my first appointment. I can’t believe I hit you like that; I don’t know why I get so jealous. I know you love me, and you won’t cheat on me, but...” He took in a deep breath. “No buts. I’m going to counselling and I just wanted to know if you’d wait for me.”

He looked like a lost boy. His tone of voice was eager and he wrung his hands together.

“I’m not sure,” I said. He nodded.

“Can I at least speak on the telephone to you?”

It was my turn to nod. And I only did that to appease him in the hope he would leave.

“Thank you, you won’t regret it,” he said.

He stepped to one side so I could open my door. “Erm, I’ll hear from you another time then, I guess,” I said, stepping into the flat.

I closed the door and then slid down it. As I sat on the floor, I heard him. “I’ll leave the flowers out here.”

I didn’t open the door until later that evening when a neighbour called through the letterbox.

“Amber, it’s Joanie. You know you got flowers out here?”

I opened the door and took them in. “Sorry, I didn’t realise they’d been delivered.”

“Been a naughty boy, has he?” she said, laughing.

“Something like that.”

She waved as she headed to her flat up the stairs and I placed the flowers on my table. They were expensive lilies, ones that made me sneeze, but beautiful all the same. He’d even had the florist removed the stamen.

I didn’t want to keep them, but I found a vase and filled it with water. It wasn’t the flower’s fault, I thought.

And that’s how the next couple of weeks went.

Andrew would call three times per day, and at first I was irritated by that. However, he was charming and polite, he didn’t pressure me to meet with him, and he told me about his counselling sessions.

He understood how his father’s infidelity had affected him, and how his mother just accepting it had skewed his thoughts on women. It sounded so plausible.

When the gifts started, I wavered. At first it was just a box of chocolates, or a bunch of flowers, always left by the front door or delivered by courier. One gift was a pair of earrings, a pretty silver flower shape with a small diamond in the middle.

Another gift was a book, the newest release from my favourite author.

I thanked him and we chatted about books. It was a different Andrew I was speaking to, one not so bullish and, for the first time, interested in me and what I liked.

“How’s the new flat?” I asked him. He’d told me he’d moved in, and I assumed he’d informed the landlord that he’d done that alone.

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