Unperfect

by Susie Tate

  “Oh no,” she said, her eyes flying wide as she rushed to me. “Max, are you okay? You said I couldn’t hurt you.”

  My breathing started to ease. One of my hands went to my neck to rub my throat. I could feel my eyes watering.

  “Underestimated you,” I said, my voice no more than a pathetic croak now. She reached out for my hand that wasn’t clutching my throat and I took hers, giving it a squeeze.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered and I rolled my eyes.

  “Stop apologising all the time. I told you to really give it some beans and you did. I’m proud of you: Though she be but little, she is fierce.”

  “I didn’t know you could quote Shakespeare.”

  “I might be a bit rough around the edges but I did English Lit GCSE like everyone else. Right, come on. I don’t think I can manage a curry now after you’ve mullered my throat, but there’s a chippy round the corner.”

  Her face lit up like fish and chips was the finest dining available. “I’d love that.”

  “Christ, you’re easy to please,” I told her, tugging her along and into the house.

  “There’s nothing better than a chip butty.”

  “You sure you’re not from up north, lass?”

  I swept up my wallet from the side, shoved it into my pocket and then slung my other arm over Mia’s shoulders to walk to the front door. Pulling her into my side was instinctive. It was only when we were making our way down the driveway that I realised what I’d done. Up until then I had tried to make slow approaches as far as physical contact went. I worried that this was a step too far and loosened my grip. But instead of moving away from me or putting distance between us, Mia tentatively put her arm up around my waist and let her body relax into mine. By the time we made it to the chip shop I had such a huge smile on my face that I freaked out Brian behind the counter (he was used to me being a surly bastard most of the time – the blatant display of my teeth seemed to unnerve him. He couldn’t get us our battered haddock quick enough).

  Mia paid. She insisted, and when I objected she pulled back from me, laid her small hand on my forearm and looked up at me, her brown eyes serious. “Let me do this Max. Just once, let me be the one getting you something you need.” How could I say no to that? I couldn’t go over how much she’d done for my business again – I was beginning to sound like a stuck record.

  We ate straight out of the paper, sitting up on the harbour wall, watching the sunset and drinking slightly warm Sprite. We talked about Teddy and how he seems to be coming around slowly. How my sister has a huge crush on my best friend – Mia refused to comment on that one but her silence was deafening. I informed her that it’s been the worst kept secret ever since Yaz was ten years old so the confidentiality ship had sailed long ago anyway. After we’d binned the paper I decided I couldn’t put it off any longer.

  “Mia, are you ready to tell me how you were hurt?”

  Mia had been laughing after I’d told her the latest string of Yaz-related work demands – my sister wanted me to allow a mass yoga session during working hours. She also wanted me to import a full-size tree into the middle of the office space to improve air quality and, yes, so that employees could hug it at regular intervals. Actual tree hugging – the woman was a walking cliché.

  Mia’s smile dropped at my question and she looked away. I noticed movement in her lap and when I looked down she was tapping on her wrist again.

  Chapter 27

  Maybe if she just tried a little harder

  Mia

  I sighed and looked out at the sea, closing my eyes and letting the sun warm my face. I know he must have guessed a fair amount of my story. But he probably thought I was just the victim in the narrative. He didn’t know what I’d done. But I could trust Max, couldn’t I? He’d proven that. Even if it was with just part of the story. I could trust him with that much.

  “There was a teenager called Amelia.” If he thought it was odd that I was telling the story in the third person he didn’t say anything. For some reason it was easier for me this way. I felt so remote for the person I used to be then. “She was lucky. She had everything she ever wanted. Her parents were loving, her sister was a pain in the arse – aren’t all big sisters?

  “But, Amelia liked expensive things. What she did not like was her parents’ run down old Ford Fiesta, or their small terraced house, or the holidays they had in their caravan in the UK. Amelia thought she was better than that. She didn’t want fish fingers and peas and the odd bit of stolen cider with the local kids – she wanted to be eating in swanky places, drinking champagne.

  “She was always good with computers. When she was eighteen she went on work experience at a large company and she met a man – the man, the boss. Let’s call him Mr Big Cheese. Mr BC was very rich, very good-looking and very interested in Amelia, which she couldn’t believe. He made her feel special and he gave her expensive things. He was a lot older than Amelia and Amelia’s parents weren’t very happy. They didn’t care how much money Mr Big Cheese had. Amelia’s dad said he just didn’t like him. He said Mr BC was too charming, too slick, too controlling. He thought that Mr BC had a bad vibe and a cold look in his eyes. Amelia loved her dad but she didn’t really want to hear any of that, not when Mr BC was showering her with new designer clothes and expensive jewellery, or whisking her away to the Caribbean when she’d never even been on a plane before.

  “So, Amelia went to a university Mr BC chose, and she didn’t join in with student life. Why would she need to? She wasn’t going to sit in a student union drinking cheap beer when she could be eating at Michelin star restaurants with celebrities. What would be the point? Mr BC’s friends became Amelia’s friends and when Amelia finished uni she worked at Mr BC’s company. They got married in a huge wedding that made Amelia’s dad massively uncomfortable as he couldn’t afford to even cover the alcohol bill. Amelia’s sister refused to be a bridesmaid – she said she didn’t trust Mr BC, and that Amelia was too young to get married. Amelia’s mum cried during the ceremony, but not because she was happy. Amelia’s family didn’t fit in at the reception and left early. Amelia was glad when they left.” I looked up at Max then and felt my eyes fill with tears. “She was embarrassed of them. Her mum was in a boxy M&S suit, her dad was asking for a pint instead of drinking champagne, her sister’s latest boyfriend was telling people he was a plumber. Amelia wanted them to leave. She was a selfish, materialistic bitch.”

  “Oh Mia,” Max muttered, reaching to brush a tear away from my cheek and then taking my hand in his. I sniffed and turned back to the sun.

  “None of Amelia’s school friends were invited as she’d long since lost contact with them. It was only towards the end of the reception when she looked around the room and saw only Mr BC’s friends or business contacts that she started to have just the tiniest of niggling doubts. After the wedding Amelia and Mr BC moved into a huge house which Amelia didn’t have to clean. She didn’t even have to choose the furniture – all of that was done for her. Never mind that she might want to choose something. That idea was just funny. Didn’t she know she had bad taste? Didn’t she realise that their house needed to be somewhere Mr BC could entertain and not feel embarrassed? Better leave it to the professionals.

  “Amelia worked at Mr BC’s company. At least that she was good at – even Mr BC had to agree with that. She knew that she was creating updates that made the company revenue, but she never seemed to see any of the money. Mr BC said that she wasn’t very good with money. That he should manage all the money. After all, wasn’t he generous? He got her racks of designer clothes that he liked. Make-up tutorials with famous make-up artists. Appointments at the best hair salons. And Amelia was grateful. She supposed her hair had been a bit dull without all the highlights he insisted on. Her skin was a bit pale without the spray tan and she did look more polished with professional make up.

  “So what if she didn’t really have contact with her family anymore? When she went to see them, or they came over, o
r even if she just talked to them on the phone, Mr BC would be cold to her for days. She’d become scared of this new, hyper-critical, cold Mr BC. Maybe if she just tried a little harder he could be like he used to be with her again. After all, she was infuriating, she made his life difficult, she didn’t understand how hard he worked, she wasn’t interesting enough company for his friends, her make-up was never quite perfect enough. If she could just be better then maybe he’d change back. Maybe then she wouldn’t have to admit to her family that they were right and she had been wrong. She wouldn’t have to go home with her tail between her legs.

  “It’s just the harder Amelia tried, the more difficult Mr BC became to please. She began to feel stupid, worthless and even maybe a little crazy. He made her doubt her decisions. If cried or reacted she was ‘hysterical’ and ‘unstable’. Then one day, when they were driving somewhere and they got lost, Amelia tried to lighten the mood by teasing him about his sense of direction. He didn’t shout or scream at her, he just raised his hand and brought the back of it down on the side of her face. She was wearing a blue dress. The blood looked so shocking against that pale blue. Mr BC was sorry. It was an accident. She shouldn’t have distracted him when he was driving. But a line had been crossed and that’s when the real fear started.”

  “Oh my God, Mia,” breathed Max. I looked back at him again and his eyes were burning with a mixture of fury and sorrow. “I’m so sorry, love.” He reached up to brush the tears I hadn’t even realised were falling down my cheeks away then pulled me into his chest as if he just couldn’t bear having any physical distance between us. “How long did he hurt you for?”

  I sighed, giving up on the third person thing.

  “After that first hit I stayed another year,” I told him and his arms tightened around me. “But something had snapped in my mind. Any love I had for him was gone. Before then I hadn’t really wanted to sleep with him, but I made myself do it because if I didn’t he would unbearable. It was just easier to go along with it. But after he hit me I literally couldn’t do it. He never forced me, but he just descended more and more into this quiet fury. Every so often he’d snap.

  “A few times he dragged me around by my hair, sometimes yanking it out from the roots. I had long hair before – it was halfway down my back. He could wrap it around his fist easily.” I sighed. “I’d never realised before how many of the trappings of femininity make you weak. High heels mean you can’t run as fast, long hair makes you vulnerable to being grabbed, tight skirts are less easy to manoeuvre in. It’s like we’re physically weaker anyway, but then, just for good measure, society decides we need to be hindered even further.”

  “That’s why you keep your hair short? Why you don’t wear heels or skirts?”

  I nodded against his chest.

  “What happened? How did you leave?”

  “I left work early one day – told everyone I had a headache and took the tube home. He always drove me to and from work so that was my only opportunity. Anyway, it must have got back to him that I’d left, because he came home before I’d finished packing my backpack. I was in a pair of my old jeans from before we were married and my ratty trainers. He knew as soon as he saw me what was going on. I tried to run but he grabbed my ponytail, threw me to the ground, and then kicked me in the ribs. When he was finished he twisted my arm behind my back and used that to yank me to my feet again – I felt it come out of its socket and my scream must have shocked him because he let me go for a second. Then … I, er …” I bit my lip, trying to decide how much to tell Max. He gave my shoulders a squeeze, urging me to go on but I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t completely ruin his impression of me – it was bad enough he now knew what sort of person I really was, without letting him know what I was actually capable of. My voice lowered as I whispered my half lie. “Then … then I … managed to get away. One of the security guards helped me.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the police?”

  I shrugged, my throat feeling thick with the weight of guilt weighing down on me. My mind flashed back to the blood on my hands. I swallowed and closed my eyes tight.

  “Max … I-I can’t go to the police.”

  “Mia,” he pulled away from me and then faced me on the wall, taking my shoulders in his hands to turn me towards him. “You can’t just hide from him forever. You’ll need to get a divorce and–”

  I shook my head vigorously. “No, no. He doesn’t need to know where I am to get a divorce. The workers at the refuge told me all about that. And I can get legal aid if I can prove I’m a victim of domestic violence.” The thing was I hadn’t just been a victim, had I? “I’ll do all of that when I’m ready but-”

  “What if he hurts somebody else, Mia?” Max’s soft voice almost brought tears to my eyes. I pressed my lips together to stop them wobbling. “He’s dangerous. You know that. And he deserves to be punished for what he did to you.”

  I bit my lip and looked away. Nate wasn’t the only one that deserved to be punished. I would tell Max everything – I just needed more time. A little more time to be happy.

  “What if he tries to find you?”

  I shook my head again. “As long as I stay away from my family, for now, I don’t think he can.” I didn’t tell Max about seeing Nate’s business partner in London or Nate coming to the office. If Max knew that Nate was one of his biggest potential clients I didn’t know what he would do. The situation was impossible. I’d have to leave eventually. But for now I just wanted to be with Max.

  “I’d like to meet Amelia’s sister and her parents,” Max told me, jumping down off the wall and holding my hand as I did the same.

  “I’d like that too.” My voice hoarse with longing. I missed my family so much. But, if I was honest it wasn’t just the need to hide that kept me away from them. It was a little guilt, a little cowardice, and a lot of shame. How could I have let Nate separate me from them? How would they ever understand?

  “Is Amelia your real name?” he asked. “I don’t have to use it – I just need to know your real name.”

  “Yes, but my family call me Mimi. I didn’t completely lie about that. He only ever used Amelia though.”

  But right now, as I walked hand in hand with a man that – whilst being more stingy, grumpy northerner rather than a charming, extravagant smooth-talking Londoner – was kind, was gentle. A man who did make my heart skip a beat, who cared about a difficult, surly, lost seventeen-year-old boy enough to treat him more like a son than his own mother did, who looked after his staff like they were family, who cared about his sister. Right now I was more worried about how this difficult, awkward, gorgeous, scruffy wonderful man was going to feel about me once he learned the truth.

  Chapter 28

  I know what I want

  Max

  I had to calm down. The fury running through me as we walked back from the chippy was making me a little insane. I knew I should be level-headed and gentle with Mia. The last thing she needed was an angry man on a rampage to kill her husband.

  Husband.

  Mia was married. The thought made me feel a little ill. I wished I could meet eighteen-year-old Mia, before that sadistic prick got his hands on her. Before she was ground down with gas-lighting and emotional abuse leading to actual violence. How could anyone hurt something so wonderful? What kind of monster wanted to take a bright teenager and grind them down into a shadow of themselves?

  But I had this Mia with me now. Maybe she wasn’t as naïve and outgoing as she had been back then, but she hadn’t let him break her. She was strong, my Number Five. Strong and stubborn and funny and kind and beautiful, with an edge of insecurity and fear. But, given her strength, I knew she could fight her way through the latter two. She’d been coming out of herself more and more over the last few months. A wave of guilt hit me when I remembered what a judgemental, surly twat I’d been to her at first – she’d dealt with that when she didn’t even have a place to sleep, when she was still hurt. As we made our way into the house and
I closed the door behind us a lump formed in my throat. For a moment it felt a little hard to breathe.

  I stopped in the corridor and turned to Mia. Anger was battling with immense guilt and I couldn’t go any further without letting some of it out. What I was feeling must have reflected in my expression because Mia frowned as she looked up at me.

  “Whoa. Max. Are you okay?”

  “No,” I said in a tight voice. “No, I’m not okay, Mia. I’m very fucking far from okay, but that’s not your problem.”

  “Wh-?”

  “I am so sorry for how I treated you when you started working for me,” I told her and her frown deepened. “The only shitty, shitty excuse I have is that somewhere, deep down, I was drawn to you. Teddy’s mum had let him down for another visit and he was being the biggest shit in the world to me – testing me as it now turns out – and I was feeling like a bloody idiot for trusting Rebecca to come through. I didn’t want to be attracted to someone not much older than Teddy, or so I thought, someone who was hiding things. Someone I couldn’t trust. I’m afraid my trust had been broken so thoroughly by that stage that it changed me into someone I didn’t even recognise. I wish I could go back and have the curiosity and backbone to find out why you were so secretive. Maybe if I’d been a little less blind you wouldn’t have got sick. That’s on me. I accept the responsibility for that. If I’d come down from my high horse I would have seen how desperate you were.”

  “Max, no. I–”

  I moved into her space, facing her, took both of her hands in mine and leaned down to rest my forehead on hers.

  “Let me take that, Mia,” I whispered. “Let me live with that guilt. It’s mine. I won’t have you letting me off the hook. I will never forgive myself for not helping you when I could.”

  “You did help me, Max.” Mia reached up with her small hand to feel the stubble at my jaw. “That job saved my life. You saved my life when you found me that day. It’s not your fault I was in the situation I was in. It’s not even my fault – my counsellor has helped me see that. It’s his fault. I won’t let you take any of that blame, Max. I won’t.”