by Peter Martin
‘Because… because Dave my boss was here… And I couldn’t cope. I panicked and let it slip about being raped – I thought he knew already. And now he’s had it confirmed, they’ll all be gossiping about it. There’s no way can I go back there now.’
‘He won’t tell them anything, love - honestly. He’d get the sack if he did. What you told him was strictly confidential.’
‘And who could prove it was him? They’ll say they don’t know where it came from and that I egged that monster on. When I’m better, I have to get another job,’ she insisted, looking jittery once more.
Blake held out his hand to help her up, but she didn’t take it.
‘Come on, don’t be like this. Something weird is happening to you – you need to get this checked out. Anyway we’d better start clearing up this mess.’
She moved towards the window, looked out and shuddered again. ‘That’s the same as me, a complete mess.’ She laughed, waving her arms about, turning her mascara streaked face back to him.
‘Don’t say that,’ Blake sighed looking sad.
‘Why not, it’s the truth? All because of that vile man - dirty, filthy stinking animal - putting his hands all over me. I can’t stand it anymore.’
‘But that was only one man. It doesn’t mean every man’s the same as him. There are lots of good men about, and only a few bad ones. The same goes with women, there’s good and bad.’
What did he know? It wasn’t the same for him.
‘Yes, well even the bad women don’t go around attacking and raping folks. I’m sick of men ogling me, making suggestive remarks. I’ve had enough, I’m a human being after all, not a piece of meat,’ she ranted, as her whole miserable life came spilling out.
Blake looked calm; Donna wondered how long before he lost control.
‘You’re very special – you should be flattered by all the attention you get. Millions of women would give anything to be like you.’
‘Oh sure they would. Well, I don’t want to look like me. I want to be ordinary, the same as everyone else. And you’re like all the others. You only want me for sex.’ She pointed a finger at him accusingly.
‘I don’t love honestly. If that was true, I’m not doing very well out of it, am I? How long have we been going together now? Four years, is it? I seem to remember we waited over a year before we slept together. And we’re getting engaged. Supposed to be getting married in a year or two as well – so how can you accuse me of that?’
Donna mumbled at him under her breath. It didn’t matter what he said, she couldn’t stop thinking as she did.
‘I’m not arguing about this any longer. I’m going to get this flat back to normal, and if you had any sense, you’d help me,’ he said.
Her eyes were brimming full of tears again. She walked over to the spare room, went in and slammed the door shut behind her.
She lay on her back on the top of the bed, feeling so depressed, as if she had nothing to live for in the future. All that remained was more misery and pain. Everything she’d achieved so far meant nothing. Her Mathematics degree, her Statistical Analyst job, her family, friends and most especially Blake, were meaningless to her now. She wanted none of it, but couldn’t work out what could take its place – if anything.
Blake was moving about in the living room, by the sound of it, doing the vacuuming. After about half an hour, silence descended on the flat. How long before he disturbed her again, she wondered? Within minutes he knocked lightly on the door before entering.
Donna glanced at his exasperated figure.
‘Well, I’ve done the best I can, but there are a few broken things that can’t be mended. Come out now if you want.’
She looked up at him. ‘Any reason why I should?’
‘Yes, there’s every reason. Mainly because I’ve spent a lot of time and effort clearing up what you’ve trashed. I hope you’ve got your frustrations out of your system or else it’s going to cost us a small fortune.’
She got up, and walked soulfully into the living room, which he had so meticulously cleaned up. She stood still for a few seconds, realising all the trouble he’d gone to. Then looked into Blake’s harassed eyes.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she blubbered.
When he walked over to her, she went surprisingly into his arms, sobbing her poor little heart out, grateful this time to have his strong arms wrapped around her. But before long in a panic she pulled herself free from him again.
‘All right?’ His eyes widened with shock.
‘What am I going to do Blake? Please tell me.’
‘I don’t know. Try to get over this, I suppose – they say time is usually a good healer – don’t they? You mustn’t let that fruitcake get to you – he’s done enough damage already – you want to let him ruin the rest of your life as well?’
‘I’m not sure I can get over it.’ She was shaking. ‘The harder I try the worse I get.’
‘Go and see your doctor again, perhaps this time he’ll put you in touch with a psychiatrist, or some help group for rape victims. Pick up the phone – it’s not that difficult is it?’
‘He gave me tablets the last time. They’re useless.’
‘Come on, these pills can be really effective if you give them a chance. Don’t forget, you’ve only been taking them for a week or two.’
‘I’m not relying on pills for the rest of my life, and I don’t intend discussing what happened with a group of strangers. Before long the whole world will know. Thanks but no thanks. You’re a real help, Blake, a proper Dear Deirdre aren’t you?’ She glared at him, then strode off back to her room, leaving Blake probably wondering what she’d turned into.
She lay back on her bed, eyes closed, worrying over how she’d ever get herself well again. It was going to be a long painful process – that was for sure.
Chapter 6
AFTER FALLING ASLEEP QUICKLY THAT NIGHT, SHE FOUND HERSELF AWAKE EARLY AGAIN. In the semi-darkness, she could just make out it was four am. She sat up in bed, feeling very jittery, her stomach churned. Unable to stand it any longer, she got up, pulled on her dressing gown which hung on the wardrobe door, and made for the living room.
There she turned on the light switch, found the remote control and waited for the television to come on. She sat on the sofa with her legs underneath her bottom, breathing erratically. When the TV came to life, she kept the volume down low, so as not to wake Blake. Hoping to find something that might hold her attention, she flicked through the channels but found nothing of interest, and in her frustration switched it off.
Next, she looked through a pile of discarded old magazines and newspapers kept underneath the coffee table, and skimmed through each one, without really reading what she saw. By the time she’d done that, she found only half an hour had elapsed. How slow time went when you were enjoying yourself, she thought miserably.
Suddenly feeling very fidgety and agitated, she got up from her seat, and walked from one end of the room to the other, over and over again, arms folded, in a desperate attempt to rid herself of the awful anxiety feelings present in her stomach. After about fifteen minutes, she stopped herself, went back to the sofa, but although she lay down almost over-tired, she was too het up for sleep.
She needed to keep her mind active and off the attack. There were bits of fluff and dust on the carpet that Blake had missed and therefore needed cleaning. The vacuum cleaner was in a small cupboard just inside the front door.
The noise might wake Blake, but that couldn’t be helped. If there was a job that needed doing, she’d do it, sooner rather than later.
She was about to switch on the hoover, when Blake appeared in the doorway, wearing only his boxer shorts.
‘What the fuck are you doing now, Donna?’ he wanted to know, yawning.
‘A spot of cleaning.’
‘You what? At this time of the morning – I only did it last night. Have you gone nuts or something? I hope you realise I have to get ready for work in another hour or so.’
>
She frowned, her hands quivering.
‘You’ve got the whole day to do that – I need my sleep!’
‘I was awake and noticed the carpet was still dirty. I thought I’d –’
‘Well don’t!’ His eyes were ablaze with fury.
He turned round; and stormed back to their bedroom; banging the door shut, a probable futile attempt to keep out the noise should she switch on the hoover.
A sharp stab of pain went through her body. Blake’s insensitivity had hit her hard. She wanted to cry, and struggled hard not to. No point in letting know he’d hurt her feelings. He should have been more understanding and make allowances for her behaviour. But no, he had to lose his temper. Did he really care for her as he’d always said? Perhaps everything he’d told her was a pack of lies? Getting engaged no longer seemed a very good idea.
Cleaning was out for now. Fear of another altercation swayed her into returning to the spare room. As soon she slipped underneath the bedclothes, everything began going round in her head. The rape replayed itself repeatedly in her thoughts like a record stuck in a groove – and those dreadful images wouldn’t go away. And now Blake’s attitude was adding to what had, and was, happening to her.
There was no point in lying there closing her eyes and hoping for the best because it wouldn’t happen. Within a few minutes, she sat up again, switched on the bedside lamp and found out a book from the bookshelf next to the bed. One of her favourites, ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ by Harper Lee.
She started to read, and at first, it took her mind off things, but then suddenly she was jolted by the alarm going off in the next room. Blake groaned loudly as he got out of bed, forcing her to stay put.
As he went about the business of getting ready for work, she wondered if he’d come in to her to say goodbye before he left. He didn’t. She was relieved, but also upset that he should be so callus.
So what could she do with her day? Maybe the housework, shopping, or perhaps bake a cake – she didn’t know.
In truth, she didn’t feel like doing anything. Nor did she want to stay in the flat alone either; because she was frightened. That left only a visit to her parents. Even though she had patched up her differences with them, their relationship was far from easy.
When she arrived on their doorstep later that morning, they were surprised, but also glad to see her. She hugged them both, but couldn’t stop herself from weeping again, her tears finding their way onto her father’s shirt. He pulled her back.
‘Still not very well, Donna,’ he commented. ‘Come and tell us all about it.’
Arm around her, concern in his eyes, he guided her into the living room, while her mother went in the kitchen to make them a cup of tea. Donna moaned, inwardly, looking around the room at the countless photographs of her displayed on the walls; in fact, in every available space. All taken in such a way as to emphasise her supposed beauty, which had been apparent to her parents from an early age since she’d won the Pears Baby of the Year Award.
She remembered how proud they were of her, and how much they’d encouraged her to become a model and an actress when she was older. She’d been a child protégé, appearing in many television commercials for soap powder, and cereals; and they’d made a tidy bit of money out of her in the process.
When against their wishes she turned her back on acting, modelling and show business in general, they’d been bitterly disappointed. Despite their opposition she found success through sheer determination via another avenue - Mathematics.
Her parents had always known she was clever - she’d shown that at primary school when in arithmetic she’d been way ahead of everyone else. Yet they were forever reiterating the fact that she’d make more money exploiting her looks rather than her brains. However, her enthusiasm for Mathematics never waned. She attained a place at University, and exceeded all expectations by gaining a first class honours degree. By then she’d put an end to modelling once and for all.
While appreciating what she’d achieved, her mother still secretly yearned for her to be in show business, but any hope of this was shattered when Donna was offered a job as a Statistical Analyst at Bluethorn. Although the job was well paid, it was nothing to what she would have earned in a successful modelling career. It all came down what to what gave her the most satisfaction. And until now working at Bluethorn had fulfilled her completely and she’d made a success of it.
As they sat either side of her, listening intently she said, ‘I don’t know what to do, or where to turn.’
They looked shocked and surprised as she revealed the full extent of her attack, including the rape, which she’d been too ashamed to speak of. Each put an arm around her, hugging and kissing her when she broke down once more amid a flood of tears.
‘Donna, go and see the doctor, and tell him what you’re going through,’ her mother said.
‘I did, but he didn’t seem to want to listen. He said these feelings will pass and offered me more medication. And that counsellor isn’t much better. She listens, but all she suggests is group therapy. But I don’t want other people knowing my business. And then there’s everything else. I’ve started sleeping in the spare bedroom because I can’t bear to be in the same bed as Blake. I’ve put him through hell. On top of all that there’s work. I don’t know what my boss thought when he came round. I probably haven’t got a job there now even if I could face going.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ her father said. ‘He’ll realise you’re not your normal self and make allowances. And I think Blake’s bearing up as well as he can. As long as he’s tolerant, and I know he will be, you’ll be fine.’
‘I don’t want to be like this, but I can’t stop myself. I long to be back to normal, but that will never happen.’ Sobbing, she dabbed her eyes with a tissue.
‘That bastard has got a lot to answer for. I’d like to know what the police are doing. They don’t seem to have many leads. The sooner they catch him, the better we’ll all feel,’ her father said breathing in deeply.
‘Oh sure we will. But what about Donna? She might feel safer, but ultimately it won’t bring back the old Donna, will it?’
‘If they catch him…’ Donna’s voice was shaky. ‘I want him to suffer, like he’s made me suffer. Yet even that’s too good for him. And if they send him to prison, he’ll be let out in no time, while I’ve got to live with this for the rest of my life.’
‘It doesn’t have to be like that Donna,’ her mother insisted. ‘You’ll get over this. No point in letting this low life ruin your life – you’re bigger and better than that. Rise above it. Bad things happen to everyone at some time in their lives. Although we never forget them, we have to carry on, and learn from our experiences, don’t you agree?’
Donna regarded her mother with a fixed stare, seemingly dismissing rape as something to recover from easily – as if she’d broken a leg or had a bout of the flu. The same as when they forced her to act in commercials when she hadn’t wanted to. One time Donna had run away and hidden in the garden shed, only to be scolded and given a slap round the face when her mother found her.
‘You’ll get better from this Donna,’ her father added staring at her, obviously trying to encourage her. ‘You’re a fighter, always have been ever since you were little. You need time to come to terms with what happened. They say it’s the best healer there is. And they’re right. When I lost my dad, your Granddad, ten years ago, I’d loved him so dearly I thought I’d never get over it. For weeks if not months, I was an emotional wreck, but little by little with each passing day, gradually I was able to cope with it.
‘You know what I’d do if I were you. Get yourself back to work. Once you’re with friends and colleagues with your mind occupied, the pain should start to ease.’
‘You’re joking dad, I can’t do that now. They all know about the rape – it slipped out when Dave came to see me. He’s bound to tell someone and before long, it’ll be the talk of the place. Can you imagine what it’ll be like, knowing they�
��ve been talking about me behind my back? They’ll stare at me like an animal in a zoo and make snide remarks. I can’t face that.’ She screwed up her eyes as if she was in intense pain.
‘Well, leave Bluethorn if you want,’ her mother suggested. ‘There’s plenty of other things you could do – and for a lot more money too.’
Donna’s hand gripped hold of the pad of her seat; she found it hard to believe what she was hearing. ‘Oh yes, and we all know what that would be, don’t we? I’d rather die than go back to that.’
Her mum visibly jumped at this, then narrowed her eyes at Donna.
‘Never mind that now,’ her father said, his face full of concern. ‘It’s important for you to get well again, then everything else will follow. Why don’t you and Blake go away for a few days? That might take your mind off things.’
Remembering when previously she’d suggested a short holiday only to be rebuffed by Blake, she smiled, wondering if perhaps this time would be different.
‘Maybe I will, dad. I’m not good company right now, and we had a bit of a row before I came out.’
‘Nothing serious, I hope,’ her mother asked, her face dropping slightly again.
‘No, but – ’
‘Well, it’s up to you, love,’ her dad said.
However, the more she thought about a holiday together, the more convinced she became that it was a good idea. With that decision made, she relaxed a little more. By the time she left, she was in better spirits, and almost looked forward to returning to the flat. She must make an effort, or risk losing him. That on top of the rape, would finish her off.
As soon as she got back, she set about cooking him a Shepherds’ Pie, easy to prepare but also one of his favourites.
He came back at his usual time and went straight into the kitchen, looking rather tired.
‘Something smells nice,’ he remarked.
‘It’s only Shepherd’s Pie.’
‘My favourite. Great – I’m absolutely starving.’
She smiled, her eyes sparkling with this comment.