Deadly Revenge

by Leigh Russell

  Her mother had given her a curious look and Jessica had let out a braying laugh, so loud it sounded forced. It had taken her another year to recognise that she was not only miserable, she was actually at risk, but by then it was too late for her to walk away. She was trapped.

  ‘That’s my baby you’re carrying,’ he said to her, ‘yours and mine. There’s no way you’re taking him away from me.’

  Jason made it quite clear what he would do to her if she tried to leave him. On the few occasions she attempted to remonstrate with him, he lost his temper, although he never once hit her while she was pregnant with Daisy. In a way that made her feel worse than before, knowing that he could control his violent outbursts when he chose. In any case, it made no difference by then, because physical violence was only one of the methods he used to intimidate and control her. He had subtle ways to break her will, and she had learned to become complicit in tolerating his abuse.

  What made the situation more difficult was that she had to conceal her injuries. In one of his fits of rage, he had clouted her so hard on the side of her head that the hearing in one of her ears was impaired. She dared not go to the doctor about it for fear they would discover the cause of her partial deafness. Of course she could have claimed she had fallen over, but somehow lying like that seemed complicated. And whatever happened, she couldn’t risk Jason finding out she had spoken about her injuries to a third party.

  ‘If you tell anyone,’ he had whispered in her undamaged ear, ‘I’ll make sure you never see Daisy again.’

  With every small concession to his will, she surrendered a little more of her freedom, and lost another shred of her self-respect, until she no longer had the power to resist his bullying. Looking back, she could hardly believe how readily she had come to tolerate his domination, yet the truth was it had all come about so slowly she had scarcely noticed it happening. And now it was too late to leave him and start again. Life, with all its potential and its opportunities, had slipped from her grasp while she had been looking elsewhere. And still she could not leave him. Where would she go? Brought up by an overbearing father, she had never learned to fend for herself. The last thing she wanted to do was go crawling back to her parents. They had warned her that her marriage wouldn’t end well.

  ‘There’ll be tears before bedtime, you mark my words,’ her father had told her.

  He had been too blinkered to realise that his opposition to her marriage only made her more determined to be Jason’s wife. In any case, she hadn’t wanted to stay and witness her parents’ tormented relationship any more than they wanted her there to see it. And then the baby had come along, and that changed everything. Although Jessica’s love for her baby was overwhelming, Daisy wasn’t exactly company. Jessica talked to her, but Daisy only cried and gurgled. Watching her lying in her cot, curling and spreading her tiny fingers in the air, Jessica wondered how she was going to protect her daughter from Jason. Since the birth he had become unapproachable, and she had learned it was best to avoid trying to start a conversation with him. Any communication other than his animal grunting in bed ended in an argument, and the likelihood of violence. Jessica’s only other adult human contact, apart from her parents, was with the health visitor, who encouraged Jessica to visit the local children’s centre.

  Although she said she would definitely go along, Jessica rarely went out, existing in a state of exhaustion in a strange silent world punctuated only by the baby’s cries and brief exchanges with a cashier when she went to the supermarket. She could have been living on the moon with only a small dumb alien for company. But as long as Jason didn’t hit her, she was content to keep her head lowered and carry on. One day the baby would be old enough to talk, and they would become friends. Considering the future, Jessica resolved to make sure Jason never lifted his hand against their daughter.

  ‘I’ll kill him before I let him touch you,’ she whispered to the gurgling baby as she stroked the downy hair on her head. ‘I promise you, I’ll kill him.’

  3

  The mood in the room was volatile. Feeling threatened by the angry muttering, Anne watched her husband glare around at the assembled crowd. Balding and well built, his customary air of confidence had been torpedoed by the level of hostility he faced. Every time he wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his sleeve she winced, knowing he had been taken by surprise on seeing how many people had turned up for the council consultation meeting. The closure of a small library hardly warranted much fuss, yet the local community had turned out in force.

  A tall man who had grumbled loudly all through David’s speech called out again. ‘Why can’t you be honest with us? The council could keep this library open if they wanted to. You’re just choosing to close it because you don’t give a toss about the needs of disadvantaged people.’

  A small group of people standing with him mumbled their agreement.

  ‘This is just a cost-cutting exercise, isn’t it?’ the tall man went on in an unpleasantly nasal voice.

  David raised a plump white hand for silence. ‘Unfortunately, you’ve hit the nail on the head, sir,’ he replied with a shrug of his broad shoulders. ‘Like everyone else, we’re having to cut costs.’

  While David was speaking, the tall man leaned down to speak to a ginger-haired man beside him.

  ‘How much did it cost to produce this glossy questionnaire?’ the ginger-haired man shouted out, sounding excited.

  The tall man flapped the brochure above his head and raised his voice. ‘Every question in this extravagantly produced leaflet is pushing us to provide evidence that the library is underused. There’s no space for comments, just a load of tick boxes which are all geared in one direction. Look at the last one: how would you feel if this branch library closed? And now look at the options we’re given: pleased, indifferent, or disappointed.’ He turned back to the councillor. ‘Why isn’t there an option to express outrage, which is what most of us are feeling right now? “Disappointed” doesn’t come anywhere near describing it. Disappointed?’ He let out a snort of derision. ‘We’re bloody livid!’

  ‘You all know that libraries up and down the length and breadth of the country are facing closure,’ David replied, wiping his brow on his shirt cuff. ‘Some people feel strongly enough about the closures to keep the facilities open as community libraries, run by volunteers, and there’s nothing to stop you from taking over this library and running it yourselves.’

  ‘While all the trained and experienced librarians who curate the stock are put out to grass,’ one of the librarians commented sourly.

  ‘And there won’t be any funding for purchasing new books,’ another librarian added. ‘Community libraries survive on volunteers to run them and books donated by readers.’

  Anne listened with growing disquiet as local residents heckled her husband. Ranging from children to the elderly, all appeared passionate about keeping their library open.

  ‘I’m afraid these are the times we live in,’ David said, looking around with a bland smile. ‘I assure you I share your dismay and deeply regret that this is necessary.’

  ‘Oh, it’s “necessary”, is it? And you “share our dismay”? How very decent of you,’ the tall man retorted with a sneer.

  Anne shuddered. These people were fuming about the threatened closure of their local library, and even she had to admit that David was behaving like a smarmy bureaucrat. His protestations of sympathy fooled no one.

  ‘Stop avoiding the issue!’ his tall antagonist countered. ‘You’re the people who are making this happen. You can pretend you’re helpless to prevent it, but we all know you’re the leader of the council. You have the power to keep this library open if you want to, along with all the other libraries in the borough. You have the funds; you’re just not releasing them.’

  ‘There are other priorities –’ David began.

  ‘Like your council dinners and your glossy brochures,’ the tal
l man replied, brandishing the questionnaire in the air again.

  As a murmur of support for the complainant rumbled around the room, a small boy raised his hand.

  ‘If the library closes, what will happen to all the books?’ he asked, peering earnestly at David.

  ‘And where will Miss take us to get our library books?’ another pupil demanded shrilly. ‘We can’t get library books if there isn’t a library.’

  ‘We come here once a month, in term time,’ their teacher explained. ‘It’s a very important outing for the children. And a lot of our parents bring the children here for the story-time sessions in the summer.’

  ‘Who’s going to organise that if we have no librarians?’ someone else asked.

  David nodded and forced a smile. ‘It’s admirable that you want to encourage children to visit the library. No one would want you to stop doing that, and you have the full support of the council in what you are doing. There are other libraries that would welcome your visits.’

  ‘Not within walking distance of the school,’ the teacher replied testily.

  ‘You won’t be the only school in York that doesn’t enjoy the luxury of having a public library near enough to walk to,’ David pointed out.

  ‘Which is surely a reason for opening more branch libraries,’ the tall man called out, with a note of triumph in his voice. ‘It’s hardly an argument for closing the ones we have.’

  A lot of people began shouting their agreement, and the librarian who was chairing the meeting stepped forward.

  ‘We can’t all talk at once,’ she said, ‘or Mr Armstrong won’t be able to answer any of our questions.’

  ‘He’s not answering them when he can hear them,’ the tall man pointed out. ‘All he’s done is blame “the times”, and tell us this isn’t the only library that’s closing. He knows perfectly well he has no reason to close this library, none at all. It’s a shabby policy from an incompetent council, and we need to stop them before they do any more damage to our community.’

  The listening audience cheered this statement. A few people stamped their feet. Anne had been nervously watching the tall man who was so strident in his attacks on her husband. She recognised him from other such meetings. With a long, thin nose and sunken cheeks, his eyes burned with a zeal that made him look positively evil, like a villain in a James Bond film.

  ‘I’m not here to listen to political haranguing,’ David announced. ‘But in any case, I’m afraid that’s all I’ve got time for. Thank you all for coming along today and making your views known. If you’d like to hand your completed questionnaires to the librarian before you leave, she’ll make sure they are delivered to the council offices and I assure you that all of your views will be taken into account when we reach a decision about the future of this library, along with all the other branch libraries currently under threat of closure. Rest assured, we pay close attention to the wishes of each and every one of you, but you must appreciate that the libraries can’t all remain open.’

  ‘No, we don’t appreciate that,’ the tall man shouted out angrily. ‘And no one here accepts your lies. This whole meeting has been a sham. You didn’t come here to listen to us; you’re just ticking the box so you can say the local community has been “consulted”. This wasn’t a consultation. It was a meeting to announce your decision.’

  David picked up his coat and swept out of the room without deigning to respond, while the librarian trotted anxiously at his side, talking breathlessly. Anne hurried after them, buttoning up her coat as she walked.

  ‘And we really hope you will reconsider,’ she overheard the librarian saying as David left the building. ‘You’ve seen for yourself how strongly the local community feels about the proposed closure.’

  Anne caught up with her husband in the car park. As they reached David’s black BMW, the tall man who had been so obstreperous at the meeting charged up to them, a couple of middle-aged women and his younger ginger-haired companion at his heels.

  ‘This isn’t over!’ he yelled at David, shaking his fist in the air. ‘If you think we’re going to take all your cutbacks lying down, you couldn’t be more wrong. You’ll see! You’re going to be sorry you ever tried to close this library! You think you’re going to get away with it, but you’re going to see how wrong you are. Someone’s going to call a halt to your interventions before it’s too late. You just wait and see. One way or another you’re going to be stopped before you do any more damage.’

  He turned to his followers, still protesting loudly about what David and his Tory council were doing to the area.

  Urging Anne to hurry, David climbed into the car. ‘I’ve heard enough of this nonsense,’ he muttered as he turned the key in the ignition.

  ‘They’re just passionate about the library,’ she replied nervously.

  David scowled. ‘Repeat your defence of those scurrilous troublemakers when we get home and you’ll be the one who’s sorry.’

  Anne shrank back against her seat and lowered her head, making herself as small as possible. She knew from experience that her husband was not a man to tolerate opposition.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘I didn’t mean to question your decision. I know you must have very good reasons for what you’re doing. You always do. Those people just don’t understand the extent of your responsibilities. They’re only thinking about their own local interests, and you have the whole area to look after.’

  Even as she spoke she despised herself for caving in, but she had no strong feelings about the proposed closure of a branch library and was anxious to placate her husband.

  ‘I’m sure you know best,’ she went on. ‘It’s only one library. There are plenty of others. And like you said, they can run it themselves if they’re so concerned to keep their library open. There are enough of them who seem interested in keeping it going.’

  ‘Oh, shut up,’ he snapped. ‘I’m sick and tired of talking about bloody libraries.’

  4

  On her way to the shops one morning Jessica spotted a sign pinned on a notice board outside a local church:

  Parent and baby drop-in session with toys and tea in a welcoming, safe environment. Come in and chat to other parents every Tuesday 11am-1pm.

  Although not a churchgoer, she went in, driven by loneliness and drawn by the promise of ‘safety’. A group of young women were seated together, seemingly all talking at once, their shrill chatter amplified by the dusty wooden floor and painted walls. Used to sitting at home with no one but a baby for company, Jessica was overwhelmed by the noise. She hesitated on the threshold, and was about to turn and leave when she noticed a thin blonde girl sitting apart from the rest of the women. Taking a deep breath, Jessica went and sat next to her, and the other girl looked up. Her greasy hair was dyed blonde, the roots dark against her pallid skin. She looked scraggy and she had a spotty face, her pimples poorly masked by cheap concealer that was too dark for her pale complexion. As she gazed at Jessica, her blue eyes softened in a smile. They both had young babies.

  ‘I wondered if Lily was too young for something like this,’ the other girl said, nodding towards her baby so that untidy wisps of hair flapped around her face. ‘It’s my first time here.’ She looked down at her bony fingers fidgeting in her lap.

  ‘Mine too. I’m not sure it’s my kind of thing.’

  They were both silent for a moment and then the blonde girl looked up again.

  ‘My name’s Ella.’

  She seemed anxious to be friendly, and Jessica had the impression that she too was unused to adult company.

  ‘I’m Jessica. And I know what you mean. It seems a bit cliquey, doesn’t it? It’s like they’re all ignoring us.’

  ‘I know. The sign said “welcome”, but you’re the only person here who seems to have noticed me. Until you turned up, I was just sitting here wondering how soon I could leave.’

 
Jessica glanced round at the group of chatting mothers who still all appeared to be talking at once. It didn’t look as though any of them would have noticed, let alone cared, if Ella stood up and scuttled out of the room. Jessica turned back to smile at her nervous companion.

  ‘Not exactly friendly, are they?’

  Neither of them admitted they had gone there because they were lonely, but they recognised that unspoken need in one another. After a few minutes, her new acquaintance smiled at something Jessica said, and she felt her mood lift. No one had smiled freely at her like that in a very long time. Jason never smiled at all, and her mother’s expression was always tinged with anxiety. Even the health visitor was only doing her job, focusing on Daisy with brisk efficiency, paying scant attention to Jessica herself. She made only the most perfunctory enquiries about her, readily accepting Jessica’s assertions that she was fine without any question.

  In the course of a stilted conversation, Jessica discovered that Ella was only nineteen, five years younger than her, and Lily was just a week older than Daisy.

  ‘I might come back next week if you’re going to be here,’ Ella said after they had sat in silence for a while, and Jessica felt an unexpected surge of happiness. She could not recall the last time anyone had expressed anything like pleasure in her company. She mentioned her husband, and Ella said she lived alone.

  ‘Apart from Lily, that is,’ she added with a shy smile.

  ‘What about her father?’

  Ella shrugged. ‘Oh, he pissed off as soon as Lily was born. He wasn’t interested in her, or me.’

  ‘But he must still support you?’

  Ella shook her head. ‘No chance. You’ve no idea what an evil bastard he was. I’m better off without him, even though I’m skint. It’s not easy trying to care for a baby with no money.’

  Jessica gazed at Ella’s baby, noticing for the first time how puny and lethargic she looked compared to Daisy.