by M A Comley
“Then I’ll postpone it. Do you think that’s likely?”
“How do I know? My head is really fuzzy, despite me being asleep most of the day. Well, on and off anyway.”
“It’s bound to be. Is that a hint for me to get going?”
She slapped his arm. “Hardly, I like having you here. I’ve missed you.”
He leaned over for a kiss. “Thanks, I’ve missed you, too. What are you having for dinner?”
“I haven’t thought about it. Thank you for the picnic lunch, it was amazing, not that I managed to eat much of the contents. Mind you, Trisha did a lot of damage to it.”
“Good, I’m glad you both enjoyed it. Where is Trisha?”
“She left to go to Neil’s, giving us time alone. She’s so thoughtful.”
“She’s a gem, to have taken the day off work to look after you. She put me to shame.”
“Don’t say that. You’ve both been amazing. Shall we have a takeaway?”
“I know an excellent Indian, if you’re up for that?”
“I’d love one. Nothing too spicy for me, a nice korma, or I can share one with you. I don’t think I’m up to eating a big meal.”
“Okay, how about a chicken korma with a lot of side dishes and a keema naan and chips?”
She laughed. “Sounds fattening, go for it.”
While Matthew placed the call, she wandered out into the kitchen to prepare the plates and cutlery.
Matthew joined her and slipped his arms around her waist. “You feel good. This feels good.”
She spun around in his arms. “It does indeed.”
He kissed her. “It’s good to be alone with you. I can’t remember what my life was like without you in it. If anything bad had happened to you today…worse than what did happen, I mean…well, I would’ve been devastated. Mum and Dad are going to love you.”
“I hope so. It’s always a risk meeting the family.”
“I know. I wish I’d had the opportunity of meeting your parents. Hey, you’ve already met Jake and you got on all right with him, didn’t you?”
“I did,” she lied.
“Mum and Dad are just the same. You’re going to get on well together, I can tell.”
“If you say so.”
She had three days to prepare her nerves for the visit. She hoped Jake hadn’t put his spoke in and pre-warned his parents about what to expect from her. She’d hate them to get the wrong impression without even meeting her.
“Hey, where did you go?”
“Sorry, I was thinking what Mum and Dad’s reaction would’ve been to knowing you, that’s all.”
“Sorry, love, it must’ve been awful to have lost them together like that. Oh God, I bet that’s added to how all this has affected you today, too, am I right?”
“Perhaps. I don’t suppose it helped, knowing they were killed in a car accident. You would’ve loved them and they you. Life is such a bitch at times. All we set out to achieve in this world is the right to be happy and successful. Why does it have to throw us a curveball now and again to steer us off track?”
“That’s what life is all about, overcoming the challenges. We all come out stronger at the other end.”
“Maybe not some of us. Losing my parents the way I did…well…it was hard. Took a massive toll on my well-being for a long time.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Lucy. I can’t offer you any words of wisdom because I’ve never been in that situation. Know this, that going forward, I’ll be here for you, always. I know we haven’t been going out that long, but, well, we’re meant to be together. Your problems are my problems from this day forward. No looking back on things you can’t change that happened in your past. Okay?”
She raised her head, wanting him to kiss her. “What did I ever do to deserve you? We’re definitely kindred spirits, not that I usually believe in that codswallop. I suppose you have to experience it to believe in it.”
He smiled down at her. “I feel the same way about you.”
The doorbell rang. Matthew volunteered to answer it and returned carrying a huge paper bag, filled to the brim with containers.
“Bloody hell, that was quick. Look at the size of it.”
Matthew beamed. “I’ve heard that somewhere before.”
“Cheeky. We’d better do this together otherwise it’s going to get cold.”
They got busy in the kitchen, and after all the dishes were empty and their plates were piled high, Matthew suggested heating them up in the microwave.
They enjoyed their meal. Matthew ended up eating most of hers as well as his own, and then they cuddled up in front of a film he spotted amongst Trisha’s DVD collection. Lucy was asleep next to him when Trisha came home at around ten.
Lucy stretched. “Have you had a good evening?”
“The best. What about you guys?”
“Ditto. Sorry to have fallen asleep, though.”
Matthew kissed the top of her head. “I didn’t mind. I’m going to have to make a move now. Will you be okay, now that Trisha is home?”
“Of course. You could have gone sooner, you didn’t have to stay with me all evening.”
“Hush now, it’s fine.”
Trisha snuck out of the room and returned once she’d heard the front door close, signifying that Matthew had left. She sat next to Lucy. “How are you?”
“I’m feeling a lot better now, bloated, but good.”
“Did you tell him about the incident outside?”
“No, I couldn’t bring myself to say it. He kind of floored me…”
“Floored you? How?”
“He told me his parents have invited me for dinner at the weekend. I thought it was just going to be a quick visit, afternoon tea or something.”
“Oh shit! Dinner, eh? How do you feel about it?”
“You took the words out of my mouth. Oh shit! How do I prepare for that? Especially after how tits-up the meeting with Jake went, not that Matthew knows about that.”
“By being yourself. Who gives a shit what he thought about you? That’s his problem, not yours.”
“I hear what you’re saying, but what if he’s there? How should I react towards him? What if there’s an atmosphere? He regarded me with contempt all the time we were alone together. He did the complete opposite with Matthew there, that’s the perplexing part for me. How do I handle such awkward, or should I say, diverse behaviour?”
“By being you. Don’t let him screw up what you have with Matthew. Do all you can to avoid being alone with him.”
“You think? How difficult is that going to be? Grr…what a mess. I’m going to be dwelling on this right up until Saturday now.”
“You won’t. Put it out of your head. Hey, you have more important things to consider than what that wanker thinks of you.”
“Such as?”
“What you’re going to wear.”
“Bugger! That thought never even crossed my mind.”
“I have a couple of evening dresses that I think will be suitable.”
“I can’t keep borrowing your clothes, love. I could wear that dress Matthew bought me…”
“Behave, of course you can. Not a good idea. That one has been seen publicly already. Once you two get married, you can buy me a whole new wardrobe, how does that sound?”
“Talk about pre-empting things. Who said anything about getting married?”
“Umm… have you seen how Matthew looks at you? The guy is besotted, and I don’t mean in a yucky way either. He’s fallen hard, a bloody fool could see that.”
“The thing is, I don’t want to rush things.”
Trisha inclined her head a little. “Don’t want to, or you’re too scared to get in too deep?”
Lucy covered her face with her hands. “Don’t do this to me. I don’t know how I feel.”
Trisha gently pulled Lucy’s hands away. “Why? Because of what happened before? You can’t judge every man you meet by his standards, love.”
“This is all so
easy for you, isn’t it?” she snapped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. You’ve been so kind to me, more than that, the last thing I want to do is fall out with you over this. I need time, time to think, time to breathe. Maybe the incident today has blighted my relationship a little.”
“Why? Do you blame Matthew?”
“No. Shit! I don’t know. All this has stirred up the past I’d done my best to forget about. My head’s a mess, and I don’t just mean because of the bruising and possible concussion I have.”
“Are you telling me you’ve had a terrible evening with Matthew? Because from where I was standing, you both seemed really happy in each other’s company.”
“See, I told you my head was a mess.”
“You need to sort yourself out, Luc. If you start imagining problems that aren’t in your relationship, well, you’re only going to end up pushing him away. You hear me?”
Lucy rubbed at her tired, gritty eyes and nodded. “I hear you. I’m going to try and make sure that doesn’t happen. What about the man?”
“The one who tried to run you off the road?”
“Yes, how do I figure out what he wants and why?”
“Now that I can’t work out for you. Hang in there. The next time you see him, you need to shout, no matter who’s around, just bring attention to yourself and him. I’m sure that’ll do the trick.”
“I’ll try, if you think that’s going to work.”
“I do. Now, do you fancy a cup of Horlicks? I think I have some in the cupboard.”
“Go on then, it might help me sleep, not that I haven’t done enough of that already today.”
Trisha smiled and went into the kitchen. Lucy waited until she left and then walked over to the window and discreetly looked out. She could see nothing through the darkness in the distance or in the nearby glow of the streetlight. She let go of the breath she was holding on to. Knowing that the house was well lit helped to reassure her and put her mind at ease a little. She returned to the couch before Trisha re-entered the room carrying two mugs and a plate of chocolate Hobnobs on a tray.
They drank and ate while they recapped their respective evenings and then called it a night. Trisha treated her like an invalid and supported her up the stairs first and then raced back down to collect her quilt and pillow, while Lucy nipped to the bathroom to have a wash and clean her teeth.
“Do you need anything else?” Trisha asked from the doorway.
“No, thanks for everything, Trisha. A girl couldn’t wish for a better friend.”
“You’re welcome. Do you think you’ll be well enough to go to work in the morning?”
“I think so, that’s the plan anyway. Can I cadge a lift?”
“I was about to offer. Goodnight, love.”
“Goodnight, sleep well, and thank you again.”
Trisha switched off the main light, leaving only the bedside lamp on next to her friend. Lucy laid there for a while, her mind racing until she forced herself to calm down with a few useful breathing exercises Shirley had taught her at work, and then she turned off the light. Sleep came easily once she was snuggled up warmly under the quilt.
6
Five years ago
I can’t do this any more. What gives him the right to treat me this way? I’m such a wuss for putting up with this mental torture for years on end. It must stop soon. I have to get out of here before he makes good on his threat to kill me. Has it really come to this? We used to be so happy…in the beginning. I keep trying to think of when that happiness gave way to the hatred on show today. It glistens in his eyes, is evident in every tiny wrinkle in his face when he glares at me.
I’m petrified most of the day. He keeps me locked up in the house when he’s at work. Drops me off at the supermarket while he sits in the car. Once I come out, laden down with bags, he interrogates me, demands to know what I spent his cash on. If he was that bothered, why didn’t he do the damn shopping himself? Because it was women’s work, just like every chore around the house. It was the man’s job to go out and earn the money to keep the house going but a woman’s role was to cook, clean, wash, and iron his clothes ready for work every day. One unexpected crease in a shirt and she knew about it.
He’d given her a few black eyes over the years and she’d been forced to go out to buy makeup so her friends and family never found out. Not that she had many friends nowadays. He’d driven them away with his vindictive tongue, not caring what he said to them if he found them in his house when he walked through the door at night.
She’d begged him to be reasonable on more than one occasion and ended up with a blacker eye than she had already.
Her parents knew there was something wrong—her father had taken her to one side during a visit one day, pleaded with her to confide in him. Dad was never one to interfere in a couple’s relationship, but even she knew he was aware things weren’t right between them. She had cried that night, once her parents had left. Patrick had insinuated that she’d been crying on Daddy’s shoulder—she hadn’t. That hadn’t stopped him screwing her arm tightly at the wrist. What started off as a Chinese burn soon turned into him almost breaking it.
Of course, he was full of remorse after he saw the bruises, as usual. However, that was short-lived, the same as always. He’d be kind to her for a few hours to make up for it, drop some of the regimental ways with how he acted and treated her, but it never lasted. The hatred and evil tones would reappear, usually on the second day.
I loathe him. I’m trying to figure out a way to escape. I haven’t come across one yet, otherwise I would be gone by now. My heart is heavy. I hate myself as much as he hates me for being such a wimp. How I overcome that is a conundrum for me. Here I sit, day after day—when I’m not busy keeping the house spotlessly clean, that is—trying to figure out what went wrong, when it went wrong.
Patrick wasn’t always like that. Everyone who met him at the start of our relationship assured me I had a one-in-a-million on my hands. I’ve racked my brain numerous times trying to fathom out what the trigger had been for him to turn into this monster.
It’s almost five now. The dinner is on the go. He’ll be home at five-thirty, on the dot, and expect his meal on the table. It’s his favourite tonight: lamb chops, mashed potatoes and greens. That’s sure to put him in a good mood, depending on how his day at work has gone, of course. It’s been a little traumatic lately, since the takeover. His job was secure, he was upper management at the factory, but he’d been forced to take on extra responsibility with no change to his salary. The beatings had increased lately due to this. I tried to talk to him about the situation, only voicing my concerns had increased his anger almost to the point of him nearly putting me in hospital.
She had found a bandage in the pharmacy while doing the shopping and wrapped it around her bruised ribs, fearing that he’d broken one or more of them, but he’d refused to take her to the hospital. He’d managed to talk her around, the way he usually did. However, she was getting to the end of her punchbag days now. Something had to give, she was conscious of that. Either she got out of there or he’d be forced to dump her body when things got out of hand. It was definitely heading that way from what she could tell.
If only I had the courage and determination to get out.
Shit! He’s home early, and the dinner isn’t cooked yet.
She upped the gas underneath the pots on the stove and boiled the kettle ready to make him his tea the way he liked it, not too strong and not too weak.
Recognising that he’d had a bad day, she smiled at him. It was the wrong thing to do. He stormed across the room, yanked her hair, twisting it around his hand, and sneered at her, his spittle flying and landing in her eyes and on her cheek.
“What are you grinning at?”
“I wasn’t. I smiled at you to welcome you home, darling.”
“Don’t darling me. You think using endearments will soften the blow? It doesn’t wash with me, bitch.”
“I’m so…”
His mobile rang, drawing her beating to a halt. He walked out of the room. Gingerly, wincing in pain, she rose to her feet. Her gaze rested on the knife block for the briefest of moments. She didn’t have the courage to pluck one from its slot; instead, she tiptoed past the lounge, where he was talking to the caller, and up the stairs. Locking the bathroom door, she ended up spending the night in there, alone, shivering against the cold, which was preferable to facing another beating that could possibly end her life.
I have to get out of here…and soon.
7
“No! Please don’t hurt me, not again!”
“Lucy, wake up, sweetheart. You’re safe. Wake up!”
She shot up in bed and cowered from her best friend until the realisation of where she was hit her, and that she was indeed safe. The tears came then, and lots of them. Trisha didn’t ask any questions. She simply hugged her, rocked her back and forth until the tears and shuddering ceased, then she released Lucy.
“Oh God, they’ve started again.”
“What? The nightmares? Are you sure it wasn’t about today’s incident?”
“No. I was taken back to the dreadful days when he used to beat me. Bloody hell, will it never end? Just when I thought I had something to look forward to in my life, he crops up again, filling my head and my dreams.”
“It was a silly dream, don’t dwell on it, it’ll probably be a one-off, love. Want me to make you a cuppa?”
“No thanks. I know you’re right, at least, I hope you are, but it was so vivid. I was back there with him. I never want to go back there.”
“You know that’s not going to happen. Think positive about this. He can no longer hurt you, ever.”
“Only in my nightmares, eh? What if I continue to have them? How do I explain them to Matthew when the time comes that we share a bed?”