The Yellow Dress

Thank you again to North200 for patient, insightful editing and more general support. And thanks to everyone for your comments and emails, they've been great! Here's the final part of Beth and Salvo's story. I hope you enjoy it (or something).

*****

Beth starts at the sound of the phone.

"Hey Beth!" without pausing for breath Angela launches straight in to her reason for ringing. "It's my birthday on Thursday. Listen, I totally understand if you can't make it but there's a gig at the Hope & Anchor on Saturday night. We're all going! I'd love it if you could come."

"Oh Angela, thank you so much for inviting me but I... I can't. I don't think I'm ready."

"But it won't be so busy, its always quiet at the start. You could just stay for a little bit, I can get us on the guest list."

"I'm sorry, I thought I was getting better but I got caught up in the crowds on the tube a few weeks ago and I'm not doing as well as I thought I was."

She can still feel the absolute terror that descended on her. She's been travelling by bus ever since, despite the time it adds on to her journeys.

"Oh Beth! I'm sorry. You don't have to come, I completely understand. Shall we have lunch together one day next week instead?"

Beth has gone back to work, just two days a week. They were happy to let her have more time off but she needs the distraction. She needs the structure to her days.

*

The following morning Beth brings the gig up with Abigail her therapist. Her response is surprisingly enthusiastic.

"You could see this as an opportunity, Beth. It is a slightly stressful situation, but one you could manage. You can use the strategies we've been learning. Make sure your friends understand what your needs are. Don't stay for too long. Don't drink too much alcohol. Have an exit plan. But it's good to expose yourself to the things that frighten you and it's better to become desensitised to them when you're in control, as opposed to when you're not expecting it." Abigail pauses. "But it's important you only do this when you're ready."

Beth nods slowly. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

She isn't sure how she would have coped without Abigail. After she first came back it was like she had forgotten how to live when he wasn't there to tell her what to do. She wasn't used to going outside, to being around people, to not having to ask for permission, to not having to wait for someone else to bring her food. For weeks, she had to eat in small doses because her body had forgotten how to manage normal meals.

She learned that she was only there for a total of six weeks. It had felt like far longer. She'd lost 12? kilos. She was anemic, dehydrated, her hair was thinner. It took months for her periods to start again. It was while reading about herself in an old newspaper that she discovered they'd told the Italian government that they'd killed her.

That was the first time she'd had a panic attack.

*

A few days have passed and Beth is perched on a high stool at the breakfast bar in Gerry's apartment. They're chatting about Angela's call, while Gerry potters around the kitchen, adding the finishing touches to the chili con carne and putting the rice on. Things are starting to feel almost normal. Beth isn't thinking of

him

every waking moment of every day. She hasn't had a panic attack for almost a week. She's feeling tentatively optimistic that one day in the future she'll be able to function like a normal person again.

There are some other people coming over too, but Beth is early. This is her first social event, it feels good to be doing this. It feels safe.

Beth sighs. "I used to love seeing live music."

"You should go, just stay for a little while, it will be good for you."

Beth still isn't sure. "My therapist said that too. Tiny steps she said. I was surprised, she has always told me to take things slowly before now."

"There you go, she must think you're ready, you should do it! What's the worst thing that can happen?"

What

is

the worst thing that can happen?

They change the subject when the other guests arrive. Everyone keeps saying how lovely Beth's new short hair is. How much it suits her face. How it brings out her eyes. They are drinking red wine, Beth has a glass. Everything is going swimmingly. She decides she is going to go to the gig. She is even a little bit excited.

They're just finishing their food when Gerry sashays in from the kitchen waving a bottle.

"I bought a bottle of my favourite liqueur in Rome, lets all have a small glass, it makes a wonderful digestif."

Gerry retrieves a set of tiny green antique sherry glasses from a kitsch side board tucked away in a corner. As she sets the glasses down on the table, she tells them about the ancient order of monks and their safely guarded, century old recipe of bitter herbs. She unscrews the lid and starts to pour.

Betf was already starting to suspect she would know this liqueur, but still the smell hits her like a freight train.

She is back there, back in that house, in that room with Him. She stands and sways. Her head is spinning. Black spots appear in front of her eyes. She must get away from here. Away from this smell. Away from the sea of concerned faces staring up at her.

Gerry is by her side, taking her by the elbow, steering her gently through the small kitchen. Out on the balcony the bitter smell of the liqueur is mercifully replaced by the heady aroma of jasmine. She is gulping the cool night air, trying to get him out of her head. There are so many feelings fighting for supremacy in her chest.

She had no idea a smell could effect her in this way.

Gerry pulls out a packet of her signature Marlboro lights out, offers one to Beth. They both light up, and for a long time neither of them speak. The other guests are taking quietly in the dining room.

"It reminds you of

him

doesn't it? I am so stupid, why didn't I think?"

Beth can't yet speak, she can only nod.

She still has nightmares about him, and erotic dreams too, often both at the same time. They fuck, he threatens to kill her and then she wakes in a cold sweat, and waits until dawn.

When she gets herself off she thinks about him, and then she feels ashamed.

"I'm sorry." Gerry cups Beth's face in her hand, wipes the tear away with her thumb. "Can you ever forgive me what an insensitive ass I have been?

More tears fall. "It's the smell." She says in a small voice. "He used to drink it every day."

"I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault Gerry, you had no way of knowing. I didn't know myself until five minutes ago."

She often wonders what that smell was. "Fernet Branca," she says the words carefully, trying them out for size. Every time she feels like she is getting somewhere something happens, and she feels like she is back to square one.

*

She wavers, but she goes to the gig in the end, they're right, she needs to push herself. But she isn't going to drink and she is only going to stay for an hour.

Angela is thrilled. "Yes you should leave early, listen to your instincts, don't over do it this first time."

There is a guy called Geoff there, he is a friend of Angela's, she has never met him before. He seems sweet. She has a gin and tonic. She is a bit tipsy, she can't handle drink anymore, but she's having fun and an hour passes in no time. So she stays longer.

Sometimes it gets busy on the dance floor and people get too close and Beth starts to panic, but she stays near the edge so she get out quickly. She doesn't like feeling out of control.

Geoff is being very sweet and attentive, but he isn't coming on too strong. She wishes she fancied him. He's so nice. He would have been just her type, before Salvo.

She's not sure if she will ever feel like dating again. Salvo has changed all that.

No, stop thinking like that Beth,

she admonishes herself. Maybe they could go out for drink one time, or coffee, not a big deal.

She catches sight of Salvo, through the crowd. When she looks again he's gone. She strains to see over or around the crowded bar, to get another look, but he is nowhere to be seen. It's not the first time this has happened. At first she saw him all the time. But its the first time in a while and the accompanying panic is like a bucket of cold water. Her heart is beating so hard it's painful. Its must be because she thought of him.

In her mind she can hear Abigail's voice. "It's common to have intrusive thoughts. You've been conditioned to fear him."

"Are you okay? Beth starts at Geoffs touch. "You look frightened. Like you've seen a ghost."

She shakes her head. "Yeah, something like that."

He is watching her, waiting for her to explain.

"I thought I saw someone I knew but I'm okay." She looks at her phone, "I might go now though."

She goes back to the table and downs her drink. Angela notices her change in mood.

"Beth? You okay?"

"Yeah, fine but I'm going to head off now."

Angela grins reaches over and squeezes her hand. "Okay then, thanks for coming." She doesn't say I know this was hard for you, but she doesn't have to. Beth can see it in her eyes, and she is glad she came - it feels like a small step in the right direction. But she is anxious, that guy really did look like Salvo, she knows it can't be really, but she is still shaken.

"Will you be okay going back on your own?" asks Angela

"Yeah, I'm gonna get an Uber." She pulls out her phone.

Geoff volunteers to wait with her until the taxi arrives.

"Okay, thanks, that would be great," she says as brightly as she can manage. "I'll just pop to the loo."

She looks at her reflection in the mirror. She feels almost normal now. The fear has receded. It's still there, hovering at the back of her mind but it has receded. She's impressed with herself. It's packed out there. She has to squeeze through crowds to get to the loo.

She sees him again. Their eyes lock. Her rational mind is still trying to insist it's not really him. It can't possibly be him. He can't be here, in London, in the pub down the road from her house.

It is him though and every cell in her body is screaming at her to panic.

She starts to move towards the exit. She looks behind her. He is following, gaining on her. Pushing his way through the crowd. It's him. It's definitely him. She is hyperventilating and it's hindering her escape.

Geoff says her name. She ignores him. He says it louder. He is next to her and she spins round to face him

"Do you still want to go?"

She can see him, behind Geoff. He is getting closer. He's watching the interaction between them. She can feel the colour drain from her face. She is dizzy with fear. Geoff reaches for her. She takes a step back raises her hands. "Don't touch me." Her voice is high pitched and wobbly.

She starts to leave, but Geoff starts to follow again.

"No please, you have to leave me alone, don't follow me, I have to go now."

"Beth are you ok? Has something happened?"

She doesn't answer. Instead she scans the room. He is too close. She changes direction, making for the bar instead. Fumbling in her bag and grabbing her mobile phone, she dials.

"Beth?" It's Geoff, he's still following her.

"Leave me alone," she grinds out, louder than she means to. Geoff's face falls, but he stops moving.

As she reaches the bar someone grabs her arm. She recognises that grip. How did he reach her so quickly? As Salvo propels her towards the exit their eyes meet and she wonders how on earth she could have imagined that she would ever get away from this man. It takes her a moment to realise there is a small tinny voice coming from her phone she raises it to her ear.

"Police!" She calls out.

He snatches the phone and drops it on the floor, her stomach sinks as her final chance to thwart this chain of events slips away

"You will come with me tigrotta mia."

"No." She shakes her head. She can't do that; she can't go back there! With courage she didn't know she had she is pulling her arm free of his grip. No!

"What are you doing? Leave her alone." Beth's heart sinks. Geoff looks tiny next to Salvo.

Salvo turns his attention to this newcomer and as he looks back and fourth between them both there's an expression on his face Beth has never seen before. Those eyes, they're so cold. He's like a beautiful monster.

He has released her arm. She should be running now, seizing on this opportunity to get away from him. But she is frozen to the spot.

"Salvo please, don't hurt him please. I'll go with you, I promise."

He turns back to her and she knows immediately that she has said entirely the wrong thing. Pulling his fist back he takes a swing at Geoff. Nausea rises up from the pit of Beth's stomach. Geoff flies across the room. It feels like it's all happening in slow motion. The last she sees of Geoff he's lying motionless on the floor. She tries to run, but it too late Salvo has her arm again, his reactions lightening as fast as ever.

He pulls her away from the scene. He is pulling her away from her friends, away from her world and back into his.

Outside the pub, the cool night air hits her face and reminds her anew of why she mustn't let this happen.

"No, no!"

She's kicking and screaming, not sure how she's brave enough to do this, given his inclination for violent retribution but she can't go back, she can't. She'd rather die.

He slams her against a wall. She hears the crack of her skull against the brick, but the pain barely registers. He is clutching her jaw, pinning her to the wall. Still she's fighting him pushing him away with a reign of scratches and thumps.

She notices in some distracted way, through her torrent of rage that this physical attack isn't having much of an effect. He is standing still, his over hand pressed against the wall beside her head. He is looking at her as though he's never seen her before. She stops with the hitting and watches him back.

Immediately he pulls her into his arms and holds her. She can hardly breathe. And although the sight of him earlier in the club had terrified her, his touch settles her. His smell is comforting. She relaxes into him, but the responding groan that rumbles deep in his chest startles her back into the moment. She pulls away, "No!" she shouts, pushing him. Surprisingly it works, she catches him off guard and he staggers back. But not for long. Soon enough he is back in her space. Caging her his arms. Blocking her exit.

"Why are you here?" she asks.

His eyes are slits. He is gazing over at her with such cold anger that she shivers at the sudden chill of it. He doesn't answer, so instead her brain comes up with it's own answers. He's come to find her so he can kill her. He told her he would kill her if she tried to escape him everyday she was with him. He's going to kill her. Why else would he be here? Why hasn't he done it already? At the time death seemed like a better alternative to that prison but right now she wasn't so sure. Her head is swimming and all her earlier bravado is slipping away.

"You don't want me to be here?" he finally asks, cupping her jaw with a giant paw and stroking her cheek with his thumb.

She takes a shuddering gulp of air. "No, I want you to leave me alone."

"Are you sure about that piccola tigre?"

She opens her mouth to reply but he shoves his hand down her trousers. She tries to pull it away but its like she is trying to move a steel girder

"Get your..." but she stops mid sentence. He is grinning, a lazy infuriating grin, as he flicks his hand over her clitoris and a bolt of arousal shoots through her. Oh that grin.

"You are wet for me."

The only response she can manage is a sobbing sound.

Slowly decisively he lifts his hand to his mouth and sucks his fingers clean, his eyes fall closed.

Then he is pulling her away from the wall. She stumbles forward, but doesn't fall, he has her. There is a car waiting, sleek and black. She hasn't noticed it until now.

"Get in the car."

"No!" Again, she tries to pull away but he has a tight grip on her.

"Get in the car Beth." He says the words through gritted teeth. His hand is on her head, forcing her down, her knees give way and in no time at all she is in the car.

As soon as she's inside the cavenous vehicle, Beth scrabbles to the other door, pulling on the handle, fiddling with the lock, pressing the buttons for the electric window. Nothing moves, nothing gives. Its like a vault; hermetically sealed, unnaturally quiet. Meanwhile Salvo has slid in to the car too and is sitting in the far corner watching her futile attempts to escape.

The car pulls silently forward and the inevitability of it all comes crashing down around her.

What made her think she could escape him? The very idea seems ludicrous. She is some sort of fantasist. It's a miracle that it's taken him this long to find her.

She should have hidden herself better, instead of believing them when they told her she was safe. She should have moved house or gone into hiding. Instead she carried on as a normal. As though she hadn't escaped a crazed psychopath.

She looked back over her shoulder, to find him stretched out by the opposite window, watching her through the same narrowed eyes, his mouth tight with rage and other unspoken emotions. He is sitting perfectly still. A predatory cat biding its time.

She tries the door handle again, nothing and the window, nope. Uneasy at not being able to see him she turns around and presses herself into the corner. They watch each other in silence. Anger is coming off Salvo in waves, filling the car. She shrinks as far as she can into her own corner and wonders what is to become of her.

As the car moves through the city night, she notices his appearance for the first time. His hair longer and styled, he is cleanshaven, she has never seen him without stubble before. He is wearing a suit. He even smells different. No longer the signature Fernet Blanca but of cologne she doesn't recognise.

He reeks of expense, and it suits him.

With a jerk of his chin he summons her, she doesn't move, torn between wanting to keep her distance and what disobeying him might mean

"Beth." Its only one word, spoken quietly but there is so much behind it. It's a threat, it's an invitation, it's a plea all rolled into one.

She doesn't move.

He lunges towards her and the next thing she knows she is on his lap, encircled in his arms, he has buried his face in her chest and he is breathing her in. His warmth is seeping into her, his smell is overwhelming her. He is filling her senses. Her heading is swimming again as a mistrial of emotions threaten to overwhelm her. She wants to pull back, but he is fastened on to her with limpet-like strength. Being this close to him is too much. There is so much to process. She needs space.

It is in the moment that she thinks she might be about to fall apart that the car pulls to halt. A word from the driver and Salvo has placed her back down on the seat next to him and the door is opening and she is being propelled forward, back out into the night air.

He pulls her out of the car again, wrapping his hand around her upper arm, his grip is so hard its painful. He frog marches her into a large hotel, all the while whispering low threats in her ear. They pass unencumbered through the opulent lobby. The reception staff tactfully avert their eyes.

The doors slide open as soon as they reach the lift, the small crowd of waiting guests part and they enter. The British sense of injustice when people flout queues is sidelined, as the other waiting guests seem to know this situation is not to be messed with.

Salvo and Beth are joined by two of his men. They stand with their backs to them, feet apart, hands folded in front. She thinks she might recognise one of them from Rome, but she can't be sure. Between them, they take up far more space in the lift than necessary. As Salvo backs her into the corner, beyond them out of the doors, she sees the faces of the other guests. A few people scuttle in, not many there isn't much remaining space. Eyes skate around the lift as the other passengers look everywhere apart from Beth's face, but hard to avoid eye contact with the mirrored walls.