The One
Page 76
After checking into their B&B, Nick had been too animated to give in to sleep, so they made their first excursion to the park to explore the winter gardens and to feed the ducks. Then they stopped off for a snack in a café before making their way to their Russell Street destination. Ahead of them and three doors to the right was the building that held the man they had flown 12,000 miles to see.
The street in Hastings, New Zealand, was becoming busier as the lunchtime trade picked up and the staff left their work to grab a snack or meet with friends in cafés. Nick bided his time, trying to remain calm, but really all he wanted to do was run through the shop door to announce his arrival.
Even moments before he opened the door, Nick could feel his presence, and a kaleidoscope of butterflies had, en masse, risen up from the pit of his stomach and taken flight inside his body. When he appeared, Nick’s breath was well and truly taken away.
Alex stood still for a moment, not seeing him, and Nick noted that his wavy hair was shorter than when he’d last seen him, almost nine months earlier. He’d shaved off his stubble too, revealing a clean-cut, more angular face. Suddenly, Alex looked flustered, as if he knew something was out of kilter but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was.
Nick knew what he was feeling because he felt it too.
Then, as their eyes locked, Alex took a step backwards in shock. The pushchair especially must have been quite the surprise, he thought.
‘Hello, stranger,’ Nick began, making his way towards him.
Alex was too stunned to reply.
‘Alex, meet Dylan. Dylan, meet Alex.’ Alex moved his disbelieving eyes from Nick’s towards Dylan. He took in the boy’s darker skin and looked at Nick, bewildered.
‘It’s a very, very long story,’ Nick continued, ‘and I have to warn you now, he and I only come as a package. But if you’ll have us, we’re here for keeps.’
Alex tried to cover his mouth with his hands but it was too late to hide his huge, white smile or to stop the tears from falling down his face. And he gave Nick the firmest, most longed-for hug he’d ever received, which Nick took as a yes.
Chapter 103
ELLIE
Ellie sat behind the desk in her office and stared at the spot where, seventeen months earlier, she had bludgeoned her fiancé to death.
She’d heard whispers that some members of staff who’d remained within the company had questioned why she would stay in an office where such a violent act had occurred. And when her refusal to budge from that space was leaked to the press, they too branded it ghoulish and macabre. But Ellie would not allow anyone to bully her from the seventy-first floor of the tallest building in London. What happened the day Matthew was killed would not define the work for which she had sacrificed everything to call her own. He had deserved to die and she didn’t regret that decision for a second. Now, alone in the room, she had earned the right to remain head and shoulders above everyone else.
Since that day, Ellie had effectively erased the man she had known as Tim from her memory. Even when being cross-examined in the witness box at her trial, she was vague about their life together despite her barrister’s attempt to paint her as human and not as the monster millions witnessed online committing a lethal act. That Ellie was woeful and powerless, and had convinced herself to fall in love with a man she had no business loving. That Ellie had been the architect of her own misery and this Ellie had no desire to ever meet or replicate that woman again. So she spent seven days a week working in an office with a ghost to remind her never to be that pathetic.
She took a moment to note how hushed it was in the corridors and offices surrounding hers. Not so long ago it had bustled with life, from Ula and her assistants fielding telephone calls and chatting together. Now, with the business scaled back and a third of staff having quit and not been replaced, the floor was silent. Even her own office was quiet, with her computer switched off, her landline removed and her mobile phone switched to airplane mode.
Her eyes glanced across the room to a stack of the week’s newspapers and magazines piled upon the glass coffee table. From day one, the media’s reaction to her arrest and charges was as she expected. The tabloids went to town with predictably savage character assassinations and they frequently crossed the line when it came to what they could legally report on in a case that had yet to come to trial.
The images of the twenty minutes that changed Ellie’s life had been repeated so often on the news and online that they had become iconic. Like constant replays of the Twin Towers collapsing or the Sri Lankan tsunami that swept thousands to their deaths, viewers gradually became desensitised to the crux of the story – that they were witnessing the murder of a man. But it had worked to her advantage because, to an ever-expanding majority, Matthew had become the enemy.
Media commentators and psychologists analysed the footage in depth to judge his character, body language, lies and motivations, and had labelled him borderline psychopathic. It was Twitter, Facebook and other social media platforms that took it a stage further, making her a poster girl for the victims of mental and emotional abuse. For the first time since she sprang to fame, more than a decade earlier, those who once described Ellie as a ruthless businesswoman, unafraid to trample over anyone to get what she wanted, had now been referring to her as an ordinary girl who’d been cruelly manipulated. The PR company she was paying hundreds of thousands of pounds had done a sterling job. Ellie loathed how she was being perceived by the public, but her extensive legal team had frequently reminded her, if it kept her out of prison, then it was for the greater good.
However, while Ellie’s popularity rose, confidence in Match Your DNA was at an all-time low. All these months later and, despite robust marketing campaigns, it continued to suffer the aftershock of Matthew’s 2 million mis-Matches. In the first month, the number of new testing kit applications dropped by 94 per cent. The weeks that followed saw the steep downward curve lessen, but potential customers were no longer willing to place matters of the heart in tainted hands.
The lawsuits arrived thick and fast, and TV channels worldwide broadcast adverts from opportunist law firms offering no win, no fee representation to those who believed they were part of the 2 million. Match Your DNA’s insurers were threatening to not cover any successful compensation claims, accusing the company of being negligent for its ineffective online security that had allowed Matthew to hack into. Without the insurers’ backing, Match Your DNA would end up in inevitable bankruptcy.
Ellie looked at her watch: 2pm. She stood up, applied fresh lipstick, slipped her sunglasses on, threw her handbag over her shoulder and made her way out of the office. As she moved into an elevator and down to a floor housing one of The Shard’s six restaurants, she was flanked by her recently appointed trio of bodyguards and took a moment to think about her former head of security, Andrei. For his own sake, it was best that he disappear from her world rather than face charges for assisting her in disposing of Matthew’s body. She assumed he’d gone back home to Eastern Europe; the payoff was generous enough to allow him not to work for many years to come.
She walked confidently through the bustling dining room, noting the hushed tones and cocked heads as she brushed past each table. She was no longer concerned by what people thought of her; she’d let her PR team take care of that. That extended to her family, too, who she hadn’t seen since Matthew’s death. There had been intermittent contact with them through Ula, and she had felt huge waves of guilt when their home had become besieged by reporters. But by accepting Tim into their lives, they too had been complicit in breaking down her barriers and allowing him to poison the waters. In Ellie’s mind, Tim and her family were intrinsically linked and, to cut him out, she had to cut them out too.
The street in Hastings, New Zealand, was becoming busier as the lunchtime trade picked up and the staff left their work to grab a snack or meet with friends in cafés. Nick bided his time, trying to remain calm, but really all he wanted to do was run through the shop door to announce his arrival.
Even moments before he opened the door, Nick could feel his presence, and a kaleidoscope of butterflies had, en masse, risen up from the pit of his stomach and taken flight inside his body. When he appeared, Nick’s breath was well and truly taken away.
Alex stood still for a moment, not seeing him, and Nick noted that his wavy hair was shorter than when he’d last seen him, almost nine months earlier. He’d shaved off his stubble too, revealing a clean-cut, more angular face. Suddenly, Alex looked flustered, as if he knew something was out of kilter but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was.
Nick knew what he was feeling because he felt it too.
Then, as their eyes locked, Alex took a step backwards in shock. The pushchair especially must have been quite the surprise, he thought.
‘Hello, stranger,’ Nick began, making his way towards him.
Alex was too stunned to reply.
‘Alex, meet Dylan. Dylan, meet Alex.’ Alex moved his disbelieving eyes from Nick’s towards Dylan. He took in the boy’s darker skin and looked at Nick, bewildered.
‘It’s a very, very long story,’ Nick continued, ‘and I have to warn you now, he and I only come as a package. But if you’ll have us, we’re here for keeps.’
Alex tried to cover his mouth with his hands but it was too late to hide his huge, white smile or to stop the tears from falling down his face. And he gave Nick the firmest, most longed-for hug he’d ever received, which Nick took as a yes.
Chapter 103
ELLIE
Ellie sat behind the desk in her office and stared at the spot where, seventeen months earlier, she had bludgeoned her fiancé to death.
She’d heard whispers that some members of staff who’d remained within the company had questioned why she would stay in an office where such a violent act had occurred. And when her refusal to budge from that space was leaked to the press, they too branded it ghoulish and macabre. But Ellie would not allow anyone to bully her from the seventy-first floor of the tallest building in London. What happened the day Matthew was killed would not define the work for which she had sacrificed everything to call her own. He had deserved to die and she didn’t regret that decision for a second. Now, alone in the room, she had earned the right to remain head and shoulders above everyone else.
Since that day, Ellie had effectively erased the man she had known as Tim from her memory. Even when being cross-examined in the witness box at her trial, she was vague about their life together despite her barrister’s attempt to paint her as human and not as the monster millions witnessed online committing a lethal act. That Ellie was woeful and powerless, and had convinced herself to fall in love with a man she had no business loving. That Ellie had been the architect of her own misery and this Ellie had no desire to ever meet or replicate that woman again. So she spent seven days a week working in an office with a ghost to remind her never to be that pathetic.
She took a moment to note how hushed it was in the corridors and offices surrounding hers. Not so long ago it had bustled with life, from Ula and her assistants fielding telephone calls and chatting together. Now, with the business scaled back and a third of staff having quit and not been replaced, the floor was silent. Even her own office was quiet, with her computer switched off, her landline removed and her mobile phone switched to airplane mode.
Her eyes glanced across the room to a stack of the week’s newspapers and magazines piled upon the glass coffee table. From day one, the media’s reaction to her arrest and charges was as she expected. The tabloids went to town with predictably savage character assassinations and they frequently crossed the line when it came to what they could legally report on in a case that had yet to come to trial.
The images of the twenty minutes that changed Ellie’s life had been repeated so often on the news and online that they had become iconic. Like constant replays of the Twin Towers collapsing or the Sri Lankan tsunami that swept thousands to their deaths, viewers gradually became desensitised to the crux of the story – that they were witnessing the murder of a man. But it had worked to her advantage because, to an ever-expanding majority, Matthew had become the enemy.
Media commentators and psychologists analysed the footage in depth to judge his character, body language, lies and motivations, and had labelled him borderline psychopathic. It was Twitter, Facebook and other social media platforms that took it a stage further, making her a poster girl for the victims of mental and emotional abuse. For the first time since she sprang to fame, more than a decade earlier, those who once described Ellie as a ruthless businesswoman, unafraid to trample over anyone to get what she wanted, had now been referring to her as an ordinary girl who’d been cruelly manipulated. The PR company she was paying hundreds of thousands of pounds had done a sterling job. Ellie loathed how she was being perceived by the public, but her extensive legal team had frequently reminded her, if it kept her out of prison, then it was for the greater good.
However, while Ellie’s popularity rose, confidence in Match Your DNA was at an all-time low. All these months later and, despite robust marketing campaigns, it continued to suffer the aftershock of Matthew’s 2 million mis-Matches. In the first month, the number of new testing kit applications dropped by 94 per cent. The weeks that followed saw the steep downward curve lessen, but potential customers were no longer willing to place matters of the heart in tainted hands.
The lawsuits arrived thick and fast, and TV channels worldwide broadcast adverts from opportunist law firms offering no win, no fee representation to those who believed they were part of the 2 million. Match Your DNA’s insurers were threatening to not cover any successful compensation claims, accusing the company of being negligent for its ineffective online security that had allowed Matthew to hack into. Without the insurers’ backing, Match Your DNA would end up in inevitable bankruptcy.
Ellie looked at her watch: 2pm. She stood up, applied fresh lipstick, slipped her sunglasses on, threw her handbag over her shoulder and made her way out of the office. As she moved into an elevator and down to a floor housing one of The Shard’s six restaurants, she was flanked by her recently appointed trio of bodyguards and took a moment to think about her former head of security, Andrei. For his own sake, it was best that he disappear from her world rather than face charges for assisting her in disposing of Matthew’s body. She assumed he’d gone back home to Eastern Europe; the payoff was generous enough to allow him not to work for many years to come.
She walked confidently through the bustling dining room, noting the hushed tones and cocked heads as she brushed past each table. She was no longer concerned by what people thought of her; she’d let her PR team take care of that. That extended to her family, too, who she hadn’t seen since Matthew’s death. There had been intermittent contact with them through Ula, and she had felt huge waves of guilt when their home had become besieged by reporters. But by accepting Tim into their lives, they too had been complicit in breaking down her barriers and allowing him to poison the waters. In Ellie’s mind, Tim and her family were intrinsically linked and, to cut him out, she had to cut them out too.
