This Darkest Man by Sinden West Page A

shame that she was on the other side of the word. I
sighed and looked around my small apartment. I had unpacked nearly everything.
There wasn’t much that I had taken from my Aunt’s house. Just the books and the
wine. Clay was right about it. Some of it was worth something and the funds
from their sale had tided me over until I found a job. The property had sold
for an amount that was just enough to cover the debt with nothing left over.
    I
sighed as I thought of Clay, or whatever his name was. I’d gotten drunk after
he’d disappeared. Horribly, horribly drunk. I’d picked up the book that he’d
left behind and ran my finger over his name that was embossed on the cover as I
wallowed in my own misery.
    I
talked myself into tracking him down, after all, it had to be more than a
coincidence that the ring had disappeared when he did. I rang the university
that had the skeleton, and spoke to the head of the department. She’d laughed
when I casually mentioned Clay.
    “He
was a brilliant man, and a brilliant historian. It was such a shame when he
died.”
    “What?”
I blurted out, clutching the phone. “When?”
    “Um,
well I was a post-graduate student at the time so it must have been the early
eighties. Of course, he was very old. You must have just met someone with the
same name.”
    “Yeah.
Of course.” I had ended the call with shaking hands. I’d been played by whoever
that person was. For what reason, I had no idea. It was just another episode in
my life that I would attempt to block out, because if I thought about it too
much then it, like the others, would eat me alive. There was only so much
humiliation and pain one could take.
    But
why take the ring? It was a trinket and probably worth nothing. The ring
bothered me more than anything. I sighed again and grabbed my purse. It was
time for me to go to work.
    At
least I could walk from my apartment. The mass of people on the streets was
still a shock for me after living in isolation for so long, but it was nice
being able to grab a coffee on the way. I had to concentrate on the good
things, I reminded myself.
    I
slipped into my cubicle without being forced to make the idle chit chat that I
found so painful. The other girls were painted in make-up and their hair was
styled in such ways that they must have risen before dawn to get their looks
just right. They didn’t bother with me. They could tell by looking at me that
such things didn’t interest me. My hair hung, un-interfered with, down my back.
I did wear mascara and lip gloss thanks to Erin’s influence, but that was all.
    I
opened my emails and began my tasks for the day. The hours dragged on and I
thought of Erin in France, having the time of her life, while I barely existed
here. At lunch, I escaped from the office and headed for a nearby park to eat
my sandwich. Everyone around me seemed to be sitting in pairs, and I lost my
appetite. I ended up throwing my sandwich to the pigeons and heading back to
the office early.
    “Matilda!”
    I
stopped and turned to see a man in a suit striding toward me. Not just any man.
It was Josh. It was odd that he looked so small now compared to how I saw him
in my mind. He stopped in front of me, looking me up and down.
    “I
barely recognized you. When did you get back to the city?” he asked.
    “Oh,
a few weeks ago.” I fidgeted with my bag, knowing full well that he hated that.
I tried to stop my nervous gestures but like always, they were worse when he
was around.
    But
he wasn’t looking at my hands; he was looking straight into my eyes. “It’s good
to see you. I’ve got a new job just around the corner. It’s a new company but
my future looks pretty secure at the moment. I’m probably going to invest in
the software that we’re developing.”
    “Good.”
I stood a step back. “I have to go back to work.”
    “Wait.”
His hand lightly gripped my wrist. “I know things ended badly but let’s at
least talk about it. I’ll take you out to dinner