Meant to Be Me Read online

  “So, the police have no idea at all who it is?”

  “Nope. Apparently, the calls have all been traced to unregistered mobiles, with no way of tracking down who bought them. There’s not even CCTV along these back roads that might pick up a car. As if they’re going to waste time doing that anyway.”

  “Have you thought about setting up a camera here? On the porch or on the track?”

  Darcy blew on her chocolate and thought on that a moment. “You know, that might be an idea. At least at work I felt a little secure in the fact there’s always other folk around me. Key cards and security on reception, and the deliveries have always arrived direct from the companies or royal mail. But here…out there…” She waved her arm in the direction of the window. “Unless there’re folks staying in any of the other cabins, I’m ten minutes on foot down the track to the farm.”

  For the first time since she had moved in, thinking about the wild woodland wrapped around her tiny cabin frightened her. Before, it had made her calm. Given her peace. It was her little patch of solitude in a mixed-up, crazy world. Now it felt vast. A never-ending darkness where the unknown lurked waiting to pounce. This time it had felt more personal, not only because they had come to her home, but because it was obviously a personal delivery. Not some unknowing postie.

  That was a first.

  “Well, let me know if you do. I’ll help. Anything to make you feel safe again.” Anja smiled, and Darcy thanked her lucky stars for her friend. She had dropped her dinner plans at a moment’s notice and rushed straight to her side, never complaining once.

  “Thanks, sweetheart. I really don’t know what I’d do without you. You’ve gone above and beyond work-wife duties.” They both chuckled at the term. It was Joe who had inadvertently started it, referring to Anja as her wife one day, jealous he hadn’t been invited to lunch with them.

  “I like to think we’re long past the merely ‘work friends’ stage. I’ve seen your sloth pyjamas, don’t forget.”

  The tightness in Darcy’s stomach released a little as she laughed along with her friend. “This is true. You’re never going to let me live those down, are you?”

  “Never.” Anja winked. “They were way too cute to forget.”

  Darcy kicked her under the blanket. “Bugger off.”

  They both sipped their chocolate and stared in to the fire. Relief seeped into Darcy’s bones with the warmth of the flames, and Anja nestled in close.

  “What was in it?” Anja broke the quiet.

  “Hmm?”

  “What was in the box?”

  “Oh.” Darcy flashed back to the police officer transferring the box into a clear plastic evidence sack. From the initial moments of fear, to her panicked call to Anja, and then the procedure of dealing with the police, it was the first time Darcy had actually thought about the so-called gift. “Fuck, Anja. It was a bottle of my favourite perfume. How the hell do they know what my favourite perfume is? In fact…” Darcy was on her feet then and heading for her bedroom.

  “What are you doing?” Anja followed her into the cosy room.

  “Look.” She pointed to her dressing table and the bottle that sat among an array of cosmetics. “And then look at the window.”

  Anja did as instructed and looked between the two. “I don’t understand?”

  “My bedroom window is at least twelve feet off the ground with the way the front of the cabin is on stilts and the back cuts into the hill. There’s no way someone could peek through the window and see the perfume all the way over there.”

  “Okay, I see that.”

  “So how the hell did they know what my favourite was?” The panic was rising again as possibilities flew through Darcy’s imagination. “Are they following me? Did they see me buy it in a shop? Or what… Have they been close enough to smell it on me? To recognise it? Shit, Anja, I’m really freaking out now. This was too far. Too fricking far. Have they been in here when I wasn’t at home? When I was asleep?”

  The tears came, then she was pulled into Anja’s strong grasp.

  “Shush, Darcy. Calm down. It’ll be okay.”

  Anja rubbed her back and held her tight, and Darcy let the tears flow, sobbing in to her shoulder. “But how, Anja? And why? Why me?”

  Anja held her at arm’s length and wiped some tears away, then tucked errant strands of damp hair behind her ear. “Because you look so flipping cute in sloth pyjamas?”

  Darcy laughed despite herself. “You’re an arsehole. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah, I know.” Anja pulled her in for one last squeeze. “But I also know how to make you feel better.”

  “Will you stay the night? Will Jason mind?”

  Anja released her and smiled as if it wasn’t even a question. “Of course. I’m here as long as you need me.”

  Chapter 8

  Joe sauntered back from the kitchen, pausing as he passed Darcy’s desk. “Nice flowers. Did you send them to yourself?”

  “Piss off,” she growled. Sat with arms crossed on her desk, chin on forearm, she stared at the flowers and willed them to tell her who had sent them.

  “Now, now.” Joe sat back at his desk with a mug of soup. “I’m only trying to lighten your mood.”

  “Well, don’t.” She got a waft of the soup, and her stomach grumbled. “Although if you’ve got more of that broth it might help?”

  He chuckled. “Sure. I can play wife while Anja’s away. There’s another batch in the fridge.”

  When he didn’t move, she turned towards him, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “So…”

  He looked toward the kitchen, then down at his soup, before looking her way again with a hard-done-by expression. “But I’ve just heated this, I didn’t mean I’d actually get you it…”

  Darcy slowly shook her head until his words stalled. “If you want to play wife, you’ll get the soup.”

  “Fine.” He roughly pushed his chair back like a petulant teenager. “Here. Bloody take this.” He handed her the fresh mug, grabbed a plastic spoon from a pot on his desk, and chucked it into her lap. “But when she gets back”—he pointed at Anja’s desk—“you will acknowledge that I took care of you in your hour of need and be nice to me for at least the rest of the day.”

  “Done.” Darcy dropped her chin back on to her arm. “If you can scavenge a bit of bread, I’ll even let Bridget know you make a decent broth. Might increase your chances.”

  “Bridget? My chances of what?” He feigned ignorance. “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, come on, Joe. You can tell me. You’ve got a thing for her, haven’t you? Or are you two already secretly doing it?”

  “Me and Bridget?” Joe hissed, careful not to draw half the office in to the conversation. “You’ve got it all wrong. I’m not interested in her.”

  “Yeah, yeah, mate. Whatever you say.” She waved, shooing him towards the kitchen. “Bread. Now.”

  She watched him go and chuckled. It was one of her favourite sources of workplace amusement, winding up Joe. It didn’t help that one, he was gullible as anything, and two, he was, actually, a pretty easy-going and good-natured guy, who she knew secretly enjoyed the banter.

  She reached once again for the card that came with the flowers. Same lilac envelope, same plain ivory card inside that clearly wasn’t from the florist’s own collection. She couldn’t help but smile at the baby sloth adorning the front cover—her favourite animal. Which made it creepier—whoever sent this knew it.

  Although it didn’t do much to pin things down. Aside from the pyjamas Anja had spied, it was known across the office that a baby sloth YouTube video had the ability to reduce her to tears. Her Secret Santa the year before had paid to adopt one for her which came with a mini toy version that hung off one of her dividing desk walls. There was a sloth on her keychain, the printed scarf Anja had bought her, and the novelty soc
ks she had found cheap in Primark.

  Yip, her love of the sloth was common knowledge.

  It still always provoked a smirk from Anja when she showed her the picture, and inside the message was always the same.

  One day you’ll see me. One day you’ll know the truth.

  Darcy hoped that day would never come.

  She sighed and sat up straight again. Tossing the card aside, she picked up the mug of steaming goodness. She glanced past the flowers at the empty space where Anja normally sat. Darcy hadn’t heard from her in two days: no texts, no calls, not even a silly snapchat. She’d left numerous messages, and all Bridget would disclose was she had taken a few personal days.

  Darcy knew Jason was still home, so it felt strange when she considered going to Anja’s house. Despite the two years they had known each other, between his odd shift pattern, their propensity to spend every minute together when he was home, and Darcy’s generally erratic love life, somehow Darcy had never managed to meet him. He felt separate to their friendship, something in the background that wasn’t part of what Anja and Darcy had. It didn’t seem to bother Anja, and if Darcy was honest, it didn’t really bother her either. The thought of being a third wheel to them made her feel weird, and for reasons she wasn’t sure she wanted to think about, Darcy knew she would be happy to never have to meet Jason or see him and Anja together.

  Besides, maybe the issue was with Jason, and the two of them wouldn’t appreciate Darcy turning up unannounced. That would be a very awkward first meeting. As always, Anja would come to her when she was ready. In the meantime, Darcy was left with two things to ponder. Who had sent the bloody flowers, and why was she so unlucky with women?

  Amy still hadn’t replied to her message asking about lunch that Sunday. Sure, it sometimes took her a few days, and wasn’t it Amy who had started the conversation again? Had been all sweet and insistent that she wanted to make it happen. Unfortunately, the irrational side of Darcy wasn’t listening to reason and the silence stung.

  Then there was Eilidh. After their fun text exchange, she’d put herself out there and asked Eilidh out, then tortured herself for days when no reply had been forthcoming. The telling blue ticks on WhatsApp had taunted her. Eilidh had definitely seen the message.

  After a glass of wine, or maybe two, the night before, Darcy had taken the plunge and sent a follow-up message to both women. She’d told Amy she was flexible if Sunday was no good and asked if Eilidh was free that Friday night.

  Two blue ticks, but still no reply.

  By the time Darcy had crawled into bed half drunk, she was convinced she was clearly un-dateable, and both women’s silence was because they were thinking about the best way to let her down. As if not replying wasn’t enough to let her know they weren’t interested.

  A text had arrived that morning, confirming her fears. When Eilidh’s name had popped up, for a brief moment, Darcy had allowed herself to believe and felt a flutter of anticipation and excitement. Her joy was quickly quashed with the few short words Eilidh had sent.

  I’m sorry, Darcy. I thought I had replied already? A drink probably isn’t a good idea right now. The timing is all wrong for me and it wouldn’t be fair to you. I hope you understand. E x

  Now she felt hopelessly desperate. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t happy on her own. She was. She had a great life, but still missed the fun of dating, the thrill of the unknown. Okay, the sex as well. She definitely missed that.

  Maybe she was trying too hard? Wanted too badly to meet someone. Perhaps her focus was better placed elsewhere, and if it was meant to happen, it would.

  Darcy blew on a spoonful of the broth and savoured the warming comfort of the first mouthful. It was Eilidh’s loss. That’s what Anja would say. And there was still a little hope where Amy was concerned. No news was good news, right?

  “I take it they’re not the romantic gesture you were hoping for?” Joe reappeared with more soup and laid a piece of bread wrapped in a napkin on her desk before heading back to his own.

  She swivelled in her chair to face him. “What gave it away?”

  “We sit six feet apart. I know you don’t include me in your little chats, but my hearing works.”

  She sighed and looked back at the flowers. “Whatever you’ve heard, it’s only the half of it. So, no, this isn’t my idea of romance.”

  “I thought girls liked the idea of a secret admirer. Would find it intriguing and exciting.”

  “Well, you’d be wrong. Unless you think late-night silent calls, gifts left on your doorstep, and attempts to hack your Facebook are exciting.”

  “Oh.” Joe looked sorry he’d been so flippant. “I didn’t realise it had gone that far. Sorry, Darcy.”

  She waved away his apology. “Unless you’re behind it, don’t be sorry.”

  “Still, that’s pretty creepy. And you’ve no idea who it is? No ex that didn’t want to be an ex? No one that’s shown you unusual attention?”

  “No, no, and no. Trust me, Joe, I’ve been through everyone I can think of. It’s got to the point where I’m suspicious of the guy that serves me coffee in the morning.”

  Joe raised his eyebrows. “Shit. That bad, then.”

  “Aye, that bad. I’ve practically got Police Scotland on speed dial. But anyway…” She nodded in the direction of Anja’s desk. “Don’t suppose Bridget’s let anything slip to you about why Anja is off work? You know, a little office pillow talk.”

  He scowled at her. “For the last time, Darcy, I’m not interested in, nor am I sleeping with, the boss. So leave it alone.” He turned back to his computer screen, abruptly ending the conversation. All sympathy over her situation was gone.

  Darcy was a little taken aback. It was rare Joe took the bait and got in a grump so easily.

  “Okay, Joe. Whatever you say.” When he didn’t look her way, she spun around and checked her phone yet again for any reply from Anja. Nothing.

  Fine. She was going to have to respond to Eilidh without any advice from her friend. Keep it brief, she thought, same as Eilidh’s. But breezy too. Maybe the timing would be right at some point; Darcy didn’t want to burn bridges, particularly not with a woman that had drawn her in as quickly as Eilidh had.

  I’m disappointed, but I understand. You have my number if you change your mind. Take care, Darcy x

  There. It was honest and didn’t put any pressure on her, but it let her know she cared that Eilidh had cancelled. Anja would approve, she was sure.

  It buzzed back almost immediately, and expecting Eilidh, she was surprised to see Anja’s name on the incoming call.

  “Hey! I’ve been worried about you. What’s happening?”

  It was immediately clear Anja was crying. Her sniffles came through the line before her choked response. “Jason. Cheated. Gone.” Then she was sobbing with abandon while Darcy tried to find a response in her shock.

  “Hey, shush. Take a breath and tell me what’s going on. Did you say Jason’s cheated on you?” The wail got louder, and Darcy held the phone away from her ear a moment. “Okay, okay. I think I get the picture. Where are you? I can leave work and come see you.”

  She heard the sound of a nose being blown in the background, then Anja was back on the line, a little more in control of herself. “I’m at home, but I don’t want to see anyone.”

  “Well, I’m not having you sitting alone sobbing your heart out. Why don’t you take an hour or so, have a bath, try to calm down some? I’ll head over as soon as I can with a bottle of something and some food to wash it down.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine. I needed to say the words to someone, that’s all.”

  “He really cheated?” Darcy whispered, conscious of Joe behind her. “And left?”

  Anja snorted. “Left? No. I kicked the fucker out. I’ve no idea where he is now. Probably with her.”

  Darcy c
ouldn’t help but smile at the angry fizz that cut through Anja’s obvious grief over the situation. She was strong, she’d get through this—of that Darcy had no doubt. But it would be a teary, wine-filled, angry journey, she was sure.

  “Good for you, love. What an arsehole.” She glanced up as Bridget stormed from her office. “Uh-oh. Boss on the warpath by the looks of it, so I better get off my phone. I’ll be there in an hour.”

  “Seriously, Darcy, you don’t have…”

  “I said I’ll be there in an hour. Sit tight.” She hung up without another word as Bridget passed her desk on route to the kitchen.

  “I’ve told you about personal calls, Darcy. That better have been important.”

  Darcy bowed her head meekly, unprepared for battle, her head still swimming with Anja’s news. “It was, Bridget. Sorry though. It won’t happen again.”

  The older woman’s eyebrows knitted, clearly unaccustomed to anything less than a thinly veiled cheeky response from Darcy. “Are you okay?”

  “Erm…aye.” Darcy attempted to hide her surprise. She couldn’t recall another time when Bridget had asked that question of any of her staff. “But Anja, that was her, she’s had some upsetting news. Any chance I can nip out early today? She really needs me.”

  Bridget looked between Darcy and the flowers. “Is that another bouquet for the bin?”

  “What?” Darcy was confused a moment. “Oh, these. Yeah, probably.”

  “Still not found out who the creep is, then?”

  Darcy’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously, does everybody know?” She scanned around the room.

  “Relax, Darcy. I’m the boss. I make it my business to know what’s going on around here, that’s all. You can leave early, but put those in my office first. Seems a shame to waste them.”

  She continued on her way to the kitchen, and Darcy sat momentarily stunned. She had been all set to fake a stomachache to get out early, but it seemed Bridget was only a bitch 99 per cent of the time.