In Servitude

by Heleen Kist

I felt my pulse throb in my throat. Where was this going?

  ‘They’re great kids, Grace, and you’re being amazing. But I’ve really been struggling with this lately. I don’t think I can do this anymore. I’m sorry.’ He straightened his back. ‘Listen, I’m going to go and stay with my mum for a while—she’d wanted to have me for Christmas anyway—and we can talk in a few days. Maybe after Hogmanay.’

  ‘No!’ I shouted. He stepped down the stairs. ‘No. You can’t.’ I reached out to stop him but missed, the distance between us increasing as he ignored me and floated off. ‘You can’t leave me.’

  Nearly by the door, he turned and winced, his handsome features wrung into an insulting expression of pity. ‘I’m sorry, Grace. I just need some time away right now.’

  ‘But what about us? What about your promises?’ A torrent of injustice coursed through me and propelled me to him. I slammed my fists on his chest with ever-greater intensity as my rage grew. ‘You’re the one who wanted to be together. I’d resisted. I bloody resisted. You lured me into this. We had a plan. It’s not right! You can’t abandon me. You owe me.’

  He caught my wrists to cease the battering. ‘I owe you? What a weird thing to say. How on Earth do I owe you? That’s not how this works. And after all I’ve done? Shame on you. Look, I know you’re hurting right now, but I can’t stay here.’ He kissed my fingers.

  ‘No. You can’t leave…I won’t let you.’

  He released me and shrugged. ‘Babe, this isn’t something you can control. However much I know you need to. I have to figure things out for myself. I’m sorry I’ve ruined Christmas. I’d meant to wait with this.’

  Why was he talking about ruining Christmas? Like it was nothing. My God, did he not see he was ruining my whole future? One that he’d promised me. How long had he been planning this? How long had he strung me along?

  No. I wouldn’t have it.

  Clusters of anger that had built up across my body merged in vengeful unison, chanting threats of retribution like a lynch mob. Punish him!

  But how?

  ‘No you can’t go…you…I…If you leave me, I’ll…I’ll tell the police you assaulted Stephen.’ I surprised myself with what had come out of my mouth. But it could work. Right?

  ‘What?’

  ‘And that it was not self-defence,’ I added.

  ‘Why would you do that?’

  ‘Because…because you can’t betray me like this. We had a plan. We had it all mapped out…I love you.’

  ‘Jesus Grace, you’ve got a bat-shit crazy way of showing it. I didn’t betray you. Relationships end. That’s all. And I wasn’t sure ours had. But with the way you’re behaving, you’re making the decision very easy for me.’

  No.

  As I puzzled through the practicalities of my startling threat at lighting speed, the pieces fell into glorious place, painting an infallible roadmap to justice. And it felt right. How dare he leave me like this?

  ‘I mean it. I’ll call DI Roberts and say you came in out of nowhere and picked a fight. You two have a history. And then you whacked him with the extinguisher. And we concocted a whole story of how it was me—to protect you. But now I’m conflicted and I want to come clean.’ Satisfied my plan made perfect sense, I rubbed my hands as if done with putting things in order. ‘Yes, that’ll work.’

  ‘Wow.’ He raised his arms in surrender and walked backwards towards the exit. ‘Fuck me. You’ve officially lost it.’

  No.

  ‘No Dave, you’ve lost. Because I vividly recall you saying the police would believe anything from me. Remember? It will be your word against mine. Who will they believe? The Gorbals scum with a criminal record or a lovely white lady from Perth?’

  His face fell. ‘You’re serious, Grace?’

  I hesitated. His pleading eyes nearly pulled me back. Into a world I could not control.

  No.

  I needed to teach him a lesson.

  ‘You think you’re free? I said. ‘You’re not.’

  Nobody is.

  Ever wondered how much of an author’s own life is peppered through their book?

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  Letter to You

  Dear reader,

  When I set out to write this novel, I never expected anyone to read it outside of my immediate family and circle of friends. Yet here you are.

  I am humbled and grateful that you were willing to invest so much of your time in this story. I hope you enjoyed the ride.

  Reviews are essential for the success of any book and I would be ecstatic if you were to leave one on Amazon or Goodreads.

  As this is my first novel, and I’m not sure I know what I’m doing yet, I would also love to hear your thoughts directly. If you’re gentle, I may even write another.

  Keep in touch:

  www.heleenkist.com

  @hkist

  Best wishes,

  Heleen

  Acknowledgements

  Writing ‘In Servitude’ felt like bouncing between extremes.

  On the one hand, I was never so lonely as when huddled away in my garden office, every day for months, forcing the words to flow—something which was inexplicably helped by wearing a pink woollen hat made by my daughter.

  On the other hand, I’ve never felt as encouraged, loved and supported in my life. For that, I am hugely grateful.

  By the time I posted on Facebook that I’d completed my first draft (512 likes!) nearly a full year after announcing my intention to write a novel (only 158 likes—perhaps they didn’t believe me), I’d reconnected with friends from various periods and locations in my life: the Hague, Minerva, Brussels, Stanford, London, Scotland. Their virtual cheers rose despite, in many cases, decades of silence between us. On top of that I made new writer friends online willing to share tips, laughter, and commiseration any time day or night. A shout out to the James Patterson Masterclass group, and the lovely peeps in the Writer’s Murder Club.

  When I started, I considered this book a bit of a folly; the midlife-crisis-achievement-seeking equivalent to racing at Iron Man or climbing Everest—but for someone who prefers a soft seat with a bar of chocolate within reach. It was only after its first readers, book reviewer Shalini G and developmental editor (and author) Ray Banks, sang its praises, that I realised I had written a real book. A proper book. I want to thank them for their contribution and this early validation, which got me to take the book seriously and seek further, much valued, editorial assistance from Anna Hogarty and Sara Cox.

  Then came my posse of beta readers, each giving their unique take on the story and its characters. A big thank you to Alice, Sascha, Jill and Mary, Pauline, Kit, Karen, Katie, Kaben, Kyle, Laura, Sheila, Ana, and Zoe.

  I also want to thank my parents Floor and Lyda for giving me a snippet of their literary DNA, and for tricking me into believing that I can do anything I set my mind to. A begrudging thanks to my brother Floor and sister Martijn for each having a book out already; sibling rivalry thus requiring me to do the same.

  Immense gratitude to my husband, Grant, for staying married to me while I became a needy, insecure, brainstorming-partner-seeking monster for a while.

  And lastly, my love to Marcus and Delphie. Thank you for listening to my chapters when you didn’t feel like it, for telling me I’ll be ‘the best author ever’ because that logically followed from being ‘the best mum ever,’ for inspiring and acting out the fight scene, for the cups of coffee, and for the many cuddles along the way—the most precious gifts of all.

  Heleen Kist is a Dutch quintilingual Stanford-educated globetrotting career woman who fell in love with a Scotsman and his country, and now writes about its (sometimes scary) people from her garden office in Glasgow.

  ‘In Servitude’ is her debut novel. She was selected as an 'up and coming new writ
er' and given a Spotlight at Bloody Scotland, the International crime writing Festival 2018.