Page 42 of The Second Ending
“Nonsense! That’s absolutely not true.” But the damage was done. An unwanted little niggle of doubt lodged in her mind.
“I’m telling you, Ashleigh, he’s not the man you think he is. I don’t know what you ever saw in him, but I tell you, he’s got ulterior motives.” Coaxing, chiding, debasing.You’re not ever going to be good enough.
Like Sebastian. Who, it seemed, had based his entire friendship, and whatever else he might have insinuated, on ulterior motives. The memory burned.
No. She couldn’t let this stand. She had to take control of her life, not let him do this to her again.You’re a grown-up woman, for God’s sake. A successful lawyer!“Marcus is not like that. He’s sincere and genuine, not that you’d know what those characteristics are. You don’t know him at all. How could you? You’ve never even talked to him.” Did she sound as desperate to him as she did to herself? Did she even believe herself?
She had to believe it. It had to be true.
“Oh, but I have,” the response sounded in her ear. “I talked to him last night.”
The knife twisted.
“He’s always been using you. He told me so himself. He only wanted you to convince me to change my mind.”
Nyah, nyah, nyah, schoolyard taunts, echoed through her head. I told you so.Loser! You never have been, and never will be, good enough for anyone or anything. No one wants you unless you can do something for them. That’s the only reason we keep you around. Nyah, nyah, nyah…
“...never really cared about you, anyway. But I don’t care. I’m not selling to him. I don’t care…”
Her father’s words faded into a black fog as she let the phone drop from her ear.
Was it true? Is that all Marcus cared about? It couldn’t be, not after all the sweet things he had said, after all the time he’d taken to show her he wanted to rebuild what they’d had.
But…
That niggle grew stronger.
But when they first met again, he’d been cold and distant. Bitter. Almost cruel, flirting with Lana under her nose the wayhe did. It was only when the status of the sale became less certain that he started to warm up to her.
But…
Another but.
But he didn’t know, then, that it was her father who owned the plot of land he needed. Did he? He must have known. He must have a huge legal team working on this, people who specialised in real estate matters, who had access to documents and secrets that most people didn’t know existed. Did he know? Had he known all along? Was this just his angle to get the deal he wanted?
No. It couldn’t be. Could it?
Sebastian had used her. This she knew, and it was more hurtful than she wanted to admit, because it brought her father’s taunts back home.
Her parents had used her. The only time they cared enough to contact her was when they needed her, or wanted her to pay obeisance. Her sister… that was a laugh. Penelope probably forgot she even existed.
Marcus’ words from the previous night crashed through her thoughts, louder and louder.You’re the only hope of getting through to him. If there’s any chance, I’m begging you to try. I need you to try.
It was a lie. It had all been a lie. Oh God!
The phone lay on the couch, long forgotten, the screen fading and then turning off, as Ashleigh sobbed herself to bed, where she spent a sleepless night twisted in a web of insecurity and self-recrimination.
She should have calledin sick.
Ashleigh had barely made it through the day at work, and even then, she’d stared blankly at her documents and mumbled nonsensical comments at meetings. She couldn’t eat, just choked down some tea, and felt like the world had come crashing down about her.
Which it had.
But it was Thursday, which meant choir rehearsal. As little as she felt like singing, she forced herself to attend. She had an obligation to the ensemble, and, she prayed, the music would take her mind off the disaster that her life had become. Hopefully she’d be able to shut out her troubles and focus on the music.
She staggered into the arts centre, early as usual, and made her way to the large room where they rehearsed. Martin was there already, setting up the chairs in the semi-circular arrangement they needed, with the conductor’s stand in the centre and the piano off to the side. He waved to her with a smile, and she tried to smile back. Whether her lips responded to her instructions, she didn’t know.
Gordon was there, too, sitting in a corner with his music open on his lap. He glanced up as she came in, and began to offer his usual greeting, but he stopped short.
