The Runaway In Love (The Runaway Trilogy Book 2) Read online

  Kolya knew how much it affected me, and it hurt him to see me cry whenever I played it. He said I should pick something else. There were enough videos to choose from but I knew they wouldn’t have the same impact on the attendees as this one. And Ivan was no help. Every time he saw me cry he teared up too, which made me cry even more.

  I glanced down at the words I’d written and shook my head. This was never going to work. There was so much I wanted to say but I just didn’t know if I had the strength to stand there in front of everyone. Sarah’s funeral was just hours away and I was still a blubbering mess when I read the words out loud. I grabbed a tissue and blew my nose, feeling the beginnings of yet another headache.

  Kolya had gone to London for a meeting and had taken Ivan, Jonesy, Nate, and surprisingly, Danny. Kevin and his assistant were updating the security system, so all the cameras were off for the next few hours. I was glad. I didn’t want an audience today.

  Bess had been keeping me company in our TV room and I knew my tears were upsetting her, but it couldn’t be helped. The little wire-haired terrier whined and licked my face, trying to comfort me as best she could.

  “You done upsetting the dog?” Franco asked. He’d been back less than a week but didn’t look too happy about being here. I couldn’t blame him. The mood in our home had been extremely sombre with all the funeral preparations.

  “I’ve been practicing reading the words I’ve written. By the time I’m a few lines in I get a lump in my throat and can’t seem to speak. Then I cry all over again. Kolya said I don’t have to read it but it’s important that I get the words out there. They need to know they did wrong by her. What should I do, Franco?”

  “You should start by being you, Tess. Not the whiney-ass child they’re all treating you like. You really wanna stand up there and be strong? To smack ’em in the face with words that’ll make an impact about a girl they should never forget?” he questioned.

  “You know I do,” I replied.

  “Then you need to toughen up. Stop looking at your husband for support. He can’t help with this. The Tess I met all those months ago didn’t have to rely on a man for emotional support. Sure, you took it when it was offered, but you didn’t need it.”

  “I’m a different person now, Franco. And I like the love and support he gives me. It’s not something I ever expected but I wouldn’t change it. Not for the world.”

  “But that love and support comes from a man who would happily have you change something you want to keep, just so he doesn’t have to see you cry.”

  “It breaks his heart to see me so upset. I’d be exactly the same if our roles were reversed,” I told him.

  “Then you’d be wrong, too.” He glared at me as he said this. As if he expected me to challenge him. I just didn’t have it in me at that point.

  Bess heard the clatter of plates in the kitchen and knew it was time to eat; she yipped then ran out of the door with her tail wagging rapidly.

  We were travelling up to Doncaster later so we could be with Jean tonight. Sarah’s funeral was at eleven in the morning so we needed to be up and ready.

  “Where’s the girl that was gonna rip Caroline Dawson a new one? Has she gone already? Did the boss take away your fight when he took your cherry?” he taunted.

  “Fuck you, Franco!” I jumped up from the sofa and began pacing.

  “You offering, baby?” he questioned with a smirk. He stepped towards me and put his hands on my arms, pinning them to my sides.

  “Fight me, Tess. Here, right now. Show me how easy you can put me on my ass.”

  “Again, fuck you, Franco,” I yelled, struggling to get out of his hold.

  “That’s the second time you said that. What’s up, Tess? Ain’t the boss making the stars shine a little brighter for you when you go to bed at night?”

  I used the self-defence moves he and Jonesy had taught me to get out of his hold but he’d anticipated that and countered them with swift moves of his own, dropping me to my knees in front of him.

  “You’ve been too long out of the ring, Tess. I used to think you’d be able to stand your ground and fight if a situation ever arose, but I guess you’d be better off running away. Somewhere you can have a good cry about how weak you’ve become.”

  “I’ll show you weak, you arsehole,” I muttered as I struck out at his groin. His quick reaction stopped my fist from connecting with his balls, just as I knew it would. I couldn’t understand why he was doing this but I was seriously pissed off about it. I quickly spun around and sideswiped his legs—a move that was new to me. He dropped to the rug and took me with him in a roll, pinning me down with his arm across my throat. I fucking hated this position and he knew it. Barely taking two seconds to breathe, I turned my head to the right at the same time as I grabbed his ear and pulled, lifting my knees up when he altered position. I used my feet to push him away and flipped us over, pinning him down this time.

  “There’s my girl,” he declared. “You ain’t lost the fight, Tess. It’s right there burning bright in your fiery eyes. You got everything you need to stand there tomorrow and tell them fuckers whatever you want without crying. And if you feel yourself breaking you just let your eyes find mine, and remember how you took me down today. Those pansy-assed cops got nothin’ on me, but you can’t go brawling with ’em in that place. You gotta take ’em down with your emotional strength and words instead. Then later on we can catch the bastards when they least expect it and Taser ’em till they piss and shit themselves. How ’bout it, baby? Does that sound like a good plan to you?”

  “You did this to help me?” I questioned incredulously. He grinned and raised one eyebrow in that tauntingly sexy way.

  “Did it work?” he asked.

  He began to laugh loudly, then he casually placed his hands behind his head.

  “I don’t know why I asked,” he said. “Of course it worked! I’m a fucking genius when it comes to psychological shit like this. You know what, Tess? I think I missed my calling. I shoulda been a fucking shrink!” He laughed again, harder this time, and God help me, I couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

  “You’re mad, you know that, Franco? Absolutely barking. And you have to stop all the flirty, dirty, teasing remarks and calling me baby. You know Kolya will go ape shit if he ever hears you,” I told him.

  “Says the woman who’s been straddling me for the last five minutes,” he said, raising his eyebrows and bumping me up with his hips.

  I gasped and leapt away from him as quickly as I could, thankful that the cameras had been off today.

  28

  Tess

  I was so glad the rain held off. Nan had made four huge silk and gauze bows in the same blush pink as Sarah’s coffin, and had attached them to the finials on each corner of the white carriage when it arrived outside Jean’s house. Nan had sourced the same coloured ties for each pallbearer, and also one for Kolya.

  Blush pink carnations surrounded Sarah’s coffin, and matching floral displays of musical notes and the word SISTER lay on the roof of the carriage. Two white horses pulled the fairy-tale conveyance along at a steady pace.

  We followed in a number of Kolya’s cars—which were as impressive as any of the vehicles the funeral directors could have provided.

  Jean had planned the route to the crematorium which took us past our school. I hadn’t expected to find the whole school out there lining the pavements as we went by. All those pupils bowing their heads in a mark of respect caused a lump in my throat, and seeing her name in white flowers being held by her former teachers brought about my first tears of the day.

  As our journey progressed, we headed down a familiar road. My stomach churned as we approached The Willows and I felt somewhat betrayed by Jean at that moment, but when I saw the tearful faces of some of the younger children who waited outside the gates, my feelings quickly changed. They were each holding a pink flower and a string of paper cut-outs of musical notes. Jean must have told them what we were surrounding Sara
h with today. Their efforts were simple but touching.

  I didn’t see Lisa and Ben but the rest of the staff were there, even those who only worked nights. Some were crying openly. My heart felt like it was being squeezed and I’d an overwhelming urge to stop the car so I could go and comfort them. I didn’t know how to process that, but I knew I felt sorry for those I’d left behind. They were never going to get the chances in life that I had now.

  The need to set up a charity for kids leaving care grew by the minute as we made our way up the winding road to the chapel at the crematorium.

  When the carriage and cars came to a stop, I cleared my throat and glanced at everyone in the car. Jean had been sobbing since we passed the school and though I’d held her hand it was Ivan who dried her tears when we exited the vehicle. I knew if I’d have turned to her and made eye contact I’d have lost my nerve and would have been a complete mess by the time we arrived.

  Kolya had held my hand and kissed my fingers at various points on our journey, but again, I’d not made eye contact with him, and I’d not said a word to anyone, though I’d listened in to their conversation and nodded my head in agreement when necessary.

  The undertakers had been appraised of the protocol surrounding Kolya and waited for the guards to ensure that we were safely out of the vehicle before opening the doors to the carriage. Nan and Yannis came over to hug me and that’s when the tears began to fall.

  Kolya pulled me into his arms and held me tightly, stroking my hair while saying he was proud of me for holding up so well. He said it was okay to cry, and I could rely on him to get me through today.

  But it wasn’t okay to cry. Not while I had something so important that needed to be said.

  I looked around for Franco, needing his strength to carry me through the next thirty minutes, but I couldn’t see him anywhere.

  People were gathering either side of the doors of the chapel. I noticed Ben from The Willows who was holding Lisa’s hand. Both she and Andrea, my old case worker, looked like they were crying. PC Foster and PC Winters stood behind them. I couldn’t see the detectives but I knew they were there. I had that familiar feeling of revulsion I got whenever they were around. You don’t always need to see shit to be able to smell it.

  “Can I have a minute with your wife, boss?” The relief I felt upon hearing Franco’s voice was immense. Kolya let go of my hand but watched us closely, until one of the undertakers approached him.

  “Franco, I don’t—Ooww! What was that for?” I questioned while rubbing the painful area above my hip bone where he’d just nipped me.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked innocently.

  “Of course it fucking hurts. You just nipped me,” I declared through my tears.

  “Good. It needs to hurt.”

  “Why?” I asked, confused and more than a bit pissed off.

  “Think of it as a positive hurt. If you feel you can’t cope when it’s time to get up there and do your thing, just give this a push,” he said while poking the area he’d just nipped, causing me to wince. “It will help distract you from what’s going on so you can focus on what you need to do.”

  Jonesy placed his hand on Franco’s shoulder and they walked over to the carriage along with Danny and Nate. They all wore black suits with white shirts, making their pink ties stand out. I hoped that Sarah could see how much effort everyone had made for her today.

  More people were joining us by the minute and it surprised me how many had turned up. Her teachers arrived and handed over the floral display of her name to one of the undertakers. They looked like they wanted to come and speak to me but that would have to wait.

  Jean and Kolya came to stand by my side, and I watched with bated breath as the men that meant so much to me began to carry my beloved foster sister into the chapel.

  I heard the sound of more tears being shed as everyone followed our sombre procession and found their seats. A four-foot projection of the best photograph of Sarah that Jean and I could find was displayed on a screen behind her coffin. In it she’d been wearing her favourite top, and her smile lit up her pretty face.

  Sarah hadn’t been christened or baptised, so the funeral director organised for a lay preacher they’d used before to conduct the service. I wasn’t sure what denomination he was. When we met him last week I never thought to ask. It wasn’t important, anyway.

  The preacher’s name was Daniel, and he’d spoken to Jean and me at length over what exactly we wanted for Sarah’s funeral. We told him about the happy times we’d shared with Sarah, and also about her abusive past and the events leading up to her death. When I told him what I wanted to say he asked me to think very carefully about why I wanted to do this, and who, if any, it would benefit. He must have been satisfied with my answer because he was completely on board with my plans.

  Daniel began by introducing himself, telling everyone in attendance that he was honoured to have been asked to lead the service, which was a celebration of the life of Sarah Crowther, a much-loved foster daughter and sister, and the greatest, most loyal friend anyone could wish to have.

  Jean and I hadn’t seen eye to eye in the beginning when I’d asked Daniel to talk about Sarah’s past, but she soon came around when he’d put his spin on things. Still, I felt her tense up beside me when he took a deep breath and looked towards her photograph.

  “The happy teenager you see here on this photograph didn’t have much in her childhood to make her smile. Her parents were abusive, and Sarah suffered numerous beatings from being a toddler, some of which left her with broken bones, though her parents blamed their daughter’s clumsiness whenever questioned. Even though she was placed on the at-risk register, the abuse Sarah suffered continued for many years.”

  Daniel paused and looked around at the silent congregation.

  “You would think that her life experiences would have made her introverted, unsociable—unable to accept or express love, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Though I’m told Sarah had a quick temper, she also had a huge heart and longed to be part of a loving family.

  “Due to the kindness and understanding of a local fosterer, Jean Brent, Sarah not only found someone she came to call Mum, she also gained a sister, Tess.” Daniel gestured towards me.

  This was it! I took a deep, steadying breath, gripping Kolya’s bicep as we stood. He escorted me to the small pulpit at the side of the altar that Daniel had vacated, before making his way back to his seat. I had a sheet of paper in my pocket, and though I didn’t yet need it, my fingers clasped it nervously. In front of me was a remote control which belonged to a projector. It had already been set up with what I needed—Kolya had made sure of it.

  I looked out at the congregation and smiled at everyone. Some deserved it—they’d been kind to Sarah and me. Others most certainly did not.

  “Before I say a few words, I’d like to show you a happy memory that Jean and I have of Sarah. It’s one of many. While this video is playing, I’d like you to see what we saw every time we looked at her. A wonderful girl full of smiles and love. A girl who was desperate to share her life with people who’d return that love unconditionally.”

  I pressed play on the remote control and watched as her photograph vanished from view. I appeared in its place, welcoming a twelve-year-old Sarah to our makeshift stage—which was really the bay window area in Jean’s front room. After the first few bars from the piano, I turned to watch the expressions on the congregation. Sarah began to sing Birdy’s version of Skinny Love—her pitch hauntingly beautiful. Perfect as it always was.

  From where I stood, the left side of the small congregation was made up of representatives from social services and the police force. Along the front row was a tearful Lisa and red-eyed Ben. Next to them were our caseworkers, Andrea and Gill. PCs Winters and Foster stood beside them, both wiping their eyes as they watched Sarah become lost in the soulful song.

  Detectives Dickhead and Twatface were on the row behind. Both looked uncomfortable, and it was c
lear to see they’d rather be anywhere else but here. They kept glancing over to the other side of the chapel where my husband and Ivan were comforting Jean. Our guards were on the row behind, along with Yannis and his guards, Deo and Ezio. My eyes flicked back to Franco for a moment before moving along.

  Jean’s neighbours, Mr and Mrs Hancock, stood with four of Sarah’s teachers. All were wiping their eyes while trying to smile as the video progressed, likely trying to lock the images of her away so they could erase the terrible thoughts they might have had about how she’d died. I could understand that. It was one of the reasons I’d put so much thought into her coffin. I’d seen the photographs of her long-dead body and wanted to replace those images with ones that didn’t give me nightmares. So I picked the highest quality pale pink taffeta to line her coffin, and asked them to cover her in pink satin. No one would get to see it, of course, but that wasn’t the point. To me, Sarah deserved the very best—whether in life or death. Being with Kolya had given me the means to provide the latter.

  There were a few more people I didn’t recognise, though I thought one or two could be journalists. PC Foster had warned us we might get a few today, but I wouldn’t have made them leave even if she’d suggested it. I needed them for what I had to do next.

  At the end of the song, Sarah waited with exaggerated nervousness for the judge’s response. In the video, Jean had cleared her throat before declaring, “I didn’t like that performance, Sarah… I loved it! I think we’ve found this year’s winner.” A number of the congregation laughed as Sarah and I jumped up and down hugging each other. Kevin had helped me engineer it so that the last frame of the video was captured in a still shot. In it, Sarah was smiling and hugging me. I kept that shot instead of replacing it with the photograph, though I began to rethink my decision when I looked at it for a few seconds longer than planned. I felt the tears begin to fall again, and reached into my pocket for a tissue, pulling out the piece of paper at the same time.