Broken Promises

by Rebecca Barber

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Broken Promises

  Copyright © 2020 by Rebecca Barber. All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: November 2020

  This book has been previously published as Nobody Knows.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  To women everywhere, and one in particular.

  You are stronger than you believe!

  Gillian

  The scowl on his leathery face should have been enough warning to shut me up, but tonight I wasn’t in the mood to back down. I was ready for a fight. Whatever he dished out would come back at him twofold. He came through the door, ripping it almost off its hinges and letting it slam behind him. He took one look at me, sitting on the lounge quietly watching television and sipping my coffee, and rolled his eyes. I didn’t say a word. This was the game we played these days. After more than a decade of marriage, this is all we had left.

  “What’s for dinner?” he snarled, his eyes filled with hatred and disgust. I just shrugged apathetically. What was I supposed to say? ‘Hi honey, how was your day? You look tired. Why don’t I just whip you up a nice, juicy T-bone steak?’ The truth was, I would probably be having the stale, home-brand crackers with what was left of the vegemite.

  “Not sure. We don’t have much,” I admitted, instantly feeling ashamed.

  I hated the fact he could make me cower like that. Once upon a time, in another lifetime far away from this one, I felt different. I felt worthwhile and even happy. We were happy at one point, weren’t we? Somewhere along the line, I must have loved him. Otherwise I wouldn’t have married him. I can’t be that stupid, can I?

  “For God’s sake, didn’t you even bother to do the shopping?” he snarled from the kitchen.

  I heard him muttering to himself as he shuffled the near-empty boxes about in the pantry. Much as I hate to admit it, the profanity spraying from his lips was mighty impressive.

  Stomping back into the lounge, he planted himself deliberately in front of the television, hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. Knowing what was coming, I was glad the kids were out with their godmother. That was the only positive in this nightmare.

  “For fuck’s sake, Gillian. I give you money. What the fucking hell do you spend it on?” he demanded, tiny bits of spittle flying from his mouth. We had danced around this confrontation for weeks now. The tension was escalating, as was the hatred buried inside me. I don’t remember the last time I had actually had a full night’s sleep. These days, I was too angry to sleep. As soon as my head hit the pillow, all I could do was imagine all the things that I wanted to do and say to him, but was too scared to.

  My life had somehow crumpled into a pathetic mess, and most of the time I hated myself for it. I was furious, and the more I saw of him, the more he continued to be the heartless barbaric bastard he had become, the worse things got, and the more I despised myself.

  “Do you really want to know how fucking far your measly twenty bucks stretches these days?” I asked, keeping my face as blank as possible. He raised a quizzical eyebrow and folded his arms aggressively across his puffed-out chest.

  I took a deep breath, grabbed hold of the arms of my chair with both hands, and squeezed as hard as I could. When I looked down, my knuckles were white with the strain and I could hear myself grinding my teeth desperately, trying to control the rage inside me.

  “Well?” he snapped, shifting his weight impatiently from one foot to another.

  I exhaled heavily. “If you really want to know what happened to that twenty you gave me a week ago for food and to keep the house running, it bought a six-pack of home brand toilet paper, a loaf of bread, a carton of milk, vegemite, eggs, and a packet of tampons for your daughter!” I told him, ticking the items off my fingers.

  I could see the fury bubbling up inside of him. His eyes were squinting, his face slowly turning beetroot red, sweat beads gathering on his dirty, unshaven lip. “Where…the…fuck…did…you… put…the…rest…of…it?” he growled, taking an exaggerated breath.

  I don’t know if that made him feel more important or if he just couldn’t string a sentence together like a normal person. I looked at him with disgust. He was one of the ugliest people I had ever met. But I still didn’t know if I found him so repulsive because of how he looked or because I had seen the real Joel. I had seen his dark side, and it was obnoxious.

  For a long moment I just stared at the monster that in a past life had been my loving, adoring, and attentive husband. I didn’t even recognize him anymore. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the dimple on his left cheek. The dimple I had once found irresistible now made me violently ill.

  Fighting the urge to tell him the exact thoughts that were jumping about my mind, trying to force me to let them out, I swallowed deeply and took a breath. “What do you mean ‘the rest’? I already had to add more of my money just to cover that.”

  I’m not exactly sure what he muttered under his breath next, and to be honest I don’t really care. He might have been angry, but he could never feel as degraded and dehumanized as I did. I guess he realized he wasn’t going to get very far tonight. And he most certainly wasn’t going to get fed, so he stalked off, kicking dramatically at magazines that lay thrown in a heap on the floor at the other end of the lounge.

  Just before the familiar slam of his bedroom door, I heard his usual derogatory comments. “Fuck, it would be a shame if you got off your fat ass once in a while and cleaned this house up. It’s worse than living in a dump!” The bang of his door shook the walls and the windows, and with that he was gone for the night.

  Knowing I wouldn’t have to see him again tonight—because there was no way he would come out of the bedroom unless I was unlucky enough to have to use the bathroom at the same time he did—I knew I was safe, and so I let it rip. All the rage and pure hatred that was eating away at my insides came out in a garbled mess as I spat ferociously under my breath.

  Feeling relieved after my silent vent, my fingers trembled and my heart beat so hard in my chest that I could feel it in my toes. I got up and rummaged through my battered fake leather handbag, a Mother’s Day gift from happier times, and found my saving grace—my trusty pack of cigarettes.

  Silently I shuffled to the back door, pushing the cat away with my heel, and slunk down on the cold, hard concrete steps. Inhaling the smoke I felt the
tension seep away instantly.

  It was cool outside. The swirling breeze tossed the first autumn leaves about playfully. It was still light. Daylight savings had not yet ended, but the scorching summer temperatures had already moved on.

  I sat on the step for a long time, concentrating on my breathing. I could hear children nearby laughing and running, and every so often the unexpected short sharp burst of crocodile tears.

  I’m not sure what it was that eventually calmed me, whether it was the laughter I could hear, the smell of sausages being barbequed nearby, or the playful way the leaves danced on the wind. Maybe it was just the strong smooth flavour of the nicotine. Whatever it was, after those forty-five minutes, I felt more at ease, like no matter how hard things got, no matter how hard he pushed, I couldn’t let him win. He had abused me and broken my spirit but he would never beat me. I was not going to let him manipulate me like I was some pathetic puppet. I deserved better than that. And I was damn well going to get it.

  Gillian

  The day I turned twenty my life stopped. Okay, that’s probably being a tad dramatic, but my life as I knew it definitely came to a screeching halt. I held the white plastic stick in my trembling hands and stared at the double blue lines in horror. How could I possibly have been so stupid?

  The test must be faulty. I rifled through my bag and found the second test I’d grabbed just in case. Running towards the bathroom with the pink box in my hands, I prayed furiously for a different result. I couldn’t be pregnant right now.

  When the timer on the oven pinged, I sat bolt upright. The mandatory three minutes had passed and the results would now be in. I sat there and stared at my hands, picking at the skin around my nails before moving on and sticking my finger in my mouth, chewing at my nails until they bled.

  I knew I had to be the one to check it. There was no one else there. I walked, slowly, like a condemned woman, step by step down the hallway. Pushing the bathroom door open, I saw the second test, lying on the bathroom counter where I left it. Grabbing the door frame to help me stay standing upright, I couldn’t see the results from there. I knew I was pregnant. I could feel the dread, and my stomach flipped over nervously, cramping my insides.

  “Just do it,” I told myself. I had to just bite the bullet and get it over with. Get the results, and then deal with whatever happened.

  With no more hesitations, I walked deliberately to the counter and picked up the test and examined it. Seeing the double blue line for the second time was like a kick in the stomach. I let out a pained gasp, not realizing I had been holding my breath. There it was, right in front of my eyes—two telling blue lines. “Happy bloody birthday,” I grumbled to myself.

  I wandered back to the kitchen aimlessly. I pulled the half open bottle of Cloudy Bay from the fridge and filled a glass. Sitting it on the counter, I lifted it to my lips before I realized I couldn’t drink anymore. I was pregnant. Sliding down the kitchen cupboard, I sat on the floor and wept. I cried for a long time, ignoring the phone as it rang continuously.

  An hour and a half later, my bum numb from the cold tiles, I managed to pull myself to my feet and stumble into the lounge. As I passed the mirror in the hall, I didn’t even recognize the woman staring back at me. My shoulder length brown hair was matted and unkempt. My red-rimmed eyes were surrounded by dark black circles. My shoulders hunched forward in defeat. Barely able to look, I threw myself on the lounge and resumed my selfish sobbing.

  For a long time I just sat there staring into space before the realization returned and I started to weep again. My mobile phone on the coffee table in front of me continued to beep and buzz as messages came though. I didn’t want to look at them. They would all be saying the same thing anyway—Congratulations! Happy Birthday! But I had nothing to celebrate. I even forgot about the group of girlfriends who were no doubt already around our favourite table on the balcony. I knew they would be pissed at me, but they would understand. Eventually.

  I guess I was exhausted from the overwhelming emotions, because at some point I fell into a fitful sleep on the lounge. When the doorbell buzzed, I jumped up in a panic. Bouncing towards the door, I rubbed away the drool that had collected in the corners of my mouth and the sleep from my eyes.

  “Oh good, you look like shit. What the hell happened to you tonight?” Rhiannon asked, pushing past me into the lounge room.

  “We waited for you for ages, and you just didn’t show—that’s so unlike you, Gillian,” Cora snarled, letting herself in.

  When I saw the look of pure disappointment written all over Heidi’s face, I knew I was in trouble. “I tried calling, but you didn’t answer. Are you okay?” she whispered; her tone full of concern.

  “Come in, its cold outside,” I invited, pulling Heidi through the door and closing it behind her. With the four of us in my tiny two-bedroom shoe box, I felt claustrophobic. I had this huge secret weighing me down and, sitting on my sofa, furious with me, were my people. “I’ll just put the kettle on,” I called out, avoiding going into the lounge room to face the music.

  In all honesty I didn’t want to face them tonight. I wanted to remain in my oblivious and delusional bubble for a while longer, but it wasn’t to be. They were here, and they were my best friends. I couldn’t lie to them, not when it was a secret I couldn’t hide from them forever. In a couple of months, the truth would be out anyway.

  “Need a hand?” Heidi called out.

  “No, I’m fine. Won’t be a moment,” I faked, taking the opportunity to splash cold water on my face. I grabbed the biscuit tin and shook out the last of the Tim-Tams onto a plate before adding some of the homemade orange truffles from the fridge.

  When I walked into the lounge moments later, carrying the coffees and chocolates, three sets of questioning eyes turned and looked at me. I could hear the breathing, almost in unison, and I could feel my own heart beating in my chest, about to break through my ribcage.

  “Well?” Rhiannon snarled angrily.

  “Rhiannon, calm down. Give her a chance to explain why she stood us up on her own birthday.

  “It’s not like we all got dressed up on a freezing cold Saturday night in the middle of the winter to sit outside and have dinner,” Cora began. Her eyes were shooting daggers at me. I wanted to crawl into my warm bed, hide under the covers, and pretend none of this was happening.

  Swallowing my tea and my pride in the same mouthful, I apologized. “I’m really sorry I didn’t make it tonight. Something just kinda came up,” I apologised.

  Heidi smiled at me, but I knew it was false; her eyes were still full of disappointment. “It’s okay, sweetie, we understand.” She reached out and took my hand, making me feel even worse. Overwhelmed by guilt, tears trickled from my eyes.

  I looked over at Rhiannon and saw the fury on her face. “Let me just recap here. It’s your birthday. You wanted to go to dinner. You specifically said you wanted a table on the balcony. You picked a Saturday night. So, we all get dressed and show up, but you bailed. And the only reason you will give us is ‘something came up.’ Did I miss anything?” Rhiannon exploded. I just nodded weakly, breaking into tears. “What the fuck is going on, Gillian?”

  “Rhiannon!” Heidi chided her, but Rhiannon paid no attention. She sat back, folded her arms across her ample chest, and waited for an explanation.

  No one said anything for a long time, but I watched helplessly as their eyes scoured the room. I knew this wasn’t something new to them. They’d been through this with me before, but I kept going back for more. Rubbing at my stomach, I thought about my son or daughter for the first time. Although I wasn’t ready to be a mother and I was terrified of doing it alone, I had to think of my child as a person, not just a mistake. “I’m pregnant,” I blurted out.

  I looked at my friends’ faces and watched as my revelation registered. Cora got up and grabbed three wine glasses from the cabinet and filled them. Heidi emptied hers in one long gulp, while Rhiannon sipped hers quietly, her eyes never leaving mine.
>
  “But…how? When? What?” Rhiannon mumbled, still obviously in shock.

  “When did you find out?” Heidi added, spluttering.

  “Just breathe,” I repeated to myself over and over. Once I had said the words out loud, everything became real. Seeing the reaction on my best friends’ faces, the looks of pure panic and the exchange of glances of fear, made me glad that I wouldn’t have to tell my parents about my latest mistake. When they had died barely eight months earlier, I was devastated. I knew travelling overseas was dangerous, but I never thought anything would happen to them.

  My parents were adventurous and were determined to make the best of life, something I was more than a little jealous of. On their last trip abroad, something hadn’t gone right and by the time they arrived home, they weren’t in the best shape. Being the stubborn arse, he was, Dad waved it off, adamant it was just jet lag. By the time they conceded something was wrong, even the miracles of modern medicine couldn’t save them. Dad died four days after Mum. Within a week I lost all the family I had.

  “When did you find out?” Cora repeated.

  Rubbing my face with my hand, I looked at the three most important people in my world. Moments earlier they had been ready to tear me a new one, but now the rage and anger were gone, replaced with compassion and concern. “I took the test about three hours ago,” I admitted sheepishly. “I was a week late so I bought a test today. I never even imagined it would come back positive but hey, what do you know. Double blue lines and I’m going to be a mum.” I smiled weakly faking excitement.

  I’d always wanted kids, but right now was not the time. I was twenty years old, completely alone in the world and as lost and confused as I could possibly be.

  “So, you have only done the home test?” Rhiannon asked. When I nodded, a relieved smile covered her face. “That doesn’t mean anything.” She laughed, waving her hands about animatedly. “They are notorious for being wrong.”

  “Yeah?”