‘Everything felt wrong. The locked door. The way you spoke to me, like I wasn’t your equal. I said, “No, thank you.” You laughed. Imitated my voice. No, thank you, as if refusing were a joke to you. Then you grinned at me. Said, “We both know what happens in this room.” You pulled me onto the bed. Climbed on top of me. Pushed your hands beneath my clothes.’ She stated each fact slowly, voice as level as she could manage, like she was reading aloud from a document.
She could feel the collective gaze of Lexi and the hens. Listening.
Hearing her.
‘You had sex with me. I didn’t say, No, because I was scared. I was terrified of what would happen if I said that one word. What it’d mean if you didn’t listen.’ Because once she’d voiced it, once she said that word in a loud, clear voice like she’d been taught by all the women before her, then he had a choice to respect her – or not. ‘So I lay still on your bed, and you did what you did.’
She felt the heat of her emotions simmering. She’d always kept them in check, containing them, pushing them down, keeping her cool – but now they were bubbling dangerously to the surface. ‘Do you remember,’ she went on, voice rising, ‘what you said while you fucked me?’
In the brief widening of Ed’s eyes, she could see that he did. He knew exactly what he’d said, his mouth pressed to her ear, his hot whisper cutting deep.
‘You called me a dirty bitch. A filthy whore.’
She heard the intake of breath from the others.
Ana’s temples throbbed; the muscles in her neck spasmed. Those words were worse than what he was doing to her body. They left scars. They made her see those things when she looked at herself in the mirror.
‘When you’d finished, you climbed off me. Pulled up your trousers, then left. You didn’t say a single word. Just rejoined the party like I was nothing.’ She snatched a breath. ‘I never said the word no. I never told you to stop. I was terrified – so I lay still and quiet. I was a Black girl at a white boy’s party. But you knew I didn’t want it. You knew what you were doing was wrong, but you did it anyway.’
There was silence.
Ed, clench-jawed, said, ‘We had a one-night stand. I won’t let you insinuate it was something darker than that. When you turned up a couple of months later, pregnant, you conveniently didn’t mention any of this. You seemed quite happy to take my regular pay cheques.’
‘Happy?’ Hot fingers of tension jabbed at her brow. ‘You’ve no idea, have you? I was a nineteen-year-old student from Brixton. Families like mine – they don’t have a kid at university. It was everything that I got a place. I didn’t want to drop out. I didn’t want to see my parents’ heartbreak that I’d thrown it all away. That I was another statistic. But I also knew I couldn’t go through with an abortion – no matter what financial incentive you and your father dangled.’ She shook her head, disgusted. ‘You even insisted on a DNA test to check Luca was yours!’
‘How did I know who you’d been sleeping with?’
‘You.’ Her voice was deathly quiet. ‘You were the only person.’
Her statement hung there on the dark terrace, weighted and taut.
‘Oh God,’ Lexi whispered into her fingers.
‘You paid me off. Made me sign a contract that agreed to a higher rate of maintenance, as long as I’d never let my child know your identity. And I agreed.’
She accepted it all. She had no money, rent to pay, parents who couldn’t look her in the eye, and a baby growing in her belly.
When that first amount landed in her bank account, all she had thought was: He was right. Now I am a whore.
78
Lexi
Lexi knew Ana was an accomplished liar – after all, she’d been lying to Lexi ever since she’d turned up at her first yoga class – so could she trust what she was saying now?
Her gaze moved to Ed. A knot of tension pulsed in his jawline as he ground his teeth. But he’d been lying to her too, omitting Luca from his history.
Eleanor, Bella and Robyn were grouped close, a jury gathering information, waiting to pass judgement.
Into the silence, Ed began to laugh. ‘This is ridiculous!’ He turned to Lexi. ‘We slept together once, and now she’s trying to paint me as some monster and destroy my relationship with you! Sure, I was probably a twenty-one-year-old arsehole experimenting with talking dirty – I can barely remember, it was all so long ago – but what I do know is that it was consensual.’