Invisible

by Barbara Copperthwaite

  Then I heard that growly groan he does when he’s disappointed. My stomach dropped like I’d missed a step going down the stairs. ‘Sorry babe, I’m free on Friday, but on the Saturday I’m doing a job, Manchester to Tilbury Docks, 700 mile round trip of pulp for a paper mill. Want to come?’ he said.

  ‘Tilbury docks?’ I asked, trying desperately to make the leap from romantic weekend abroad, luxuriating in a posh hotel, taking in the incredible architecture, and hopefully making love an awful lot, to a night in a smelly truck, visiting a papermill. Still, maybe it wasn’t as bad as it sounded… ‘You go there a lot don’t you? What’s it like?

  ‘Yeah, it’s massive. The size of 425 footy pitches.’ Well, I’d asked for that, hadn’t I? Cue lots of dull facts and figures. Fascinating, I’m sure, but I just nodded in the right places (then realised he couldn’t see, so made ‘ooh, right’ and ‘that sounds amazing noises every now and again) while making the shopping list in my head. Not for sexy undies any more, no it was a shopping list of things like wet wipes, dry shampoo, and a travel-sized hairbrush.

  The thing is I feel so guilty now, so ungrateful. I’m not looking forward to sleeping over in his stupid lorry. I mean, it’s a bit of a step down from what I’d had in mind and besides, we’ll be trapped together with no entertainment and are bound to get on each other’s nerves. But the fact is, by suggesting this Daryl is actually really making an effort, once again, and if I don’t meet him halfway and drum up some enthusiasm then…what does it say about me and my commitment to us?

  Why am I so convinced something is wrong with us anyway? He’s come home early to surprise me, he’s surprised me at work, and now he’s trying to take me away somewhere. What more do I want?

  I hope we work but I feel like, or rather am scared that, I’m clinging onto something in its death throes. It’s a bit like we’re on a life support machine at the moment – we look like we’re alive and still breathing but actually we’re dead. Still, I have to give it my best shot or I’ll always regret it. Besides, we’ve been together for so long now. Nine whole years. It’s too long for me to walk away; I’ve put so many years into this and they can’t be wasted, I refuse to accept that. Romance is all well and good but it fades in every relationship, doesn’t it, and in the end you have to be realistic. The reality is that I love Daryl and he loves me and I can’t imagine life without him.

  And yes, his job drives me mad and he drives me mad but we work, somehow, against the odds. We’ll have a baby and be a happy family, and grow old together, and all that wonderful stuff. This is just a blip.

  So actually, the day hasn’t ended too badly really, because although Daryl couldn’t come tonight, we did arrange our weekend away, plus…I met up with Zoe and Rick and had a bloody good time anyway! It was so nice to have a catch up with them, and we chatted and chatted for hours – the night flew by! What’s more, we’re making tentative plans to perhaps meet up next year in Florida too. Hurray!

  Mon 18

  Have to say, have had great day today, everything’s gone like clockwork – better, in fact. I hit all my deadlines at work, even got a pat on the back from the boss, and then hit the shops! Everyone else seemed to have had the same idea, inevitably, but even though they were as desperate for a bargain as me, they all seemed in as good a mood as me too! No annoying stroppy, ‘shopping-rage’ people at all!

  I bought loads of cosmetics (kidding myself they are for the weekend – like I’ll be able to use them in a teensy lorry cab), some great smellies (telling myself same lie), and even some new undies!

  Bit worried about Kim though. She had to borrow another £20 today. ‘I’m really sorry,’ she said, looking totally mortified when she cornered me by the photocopier. ‘I just…I’m short on the rent. To be honest I almost didn’t come to work today because I can’t afford the bus fare, I had to raid that bottle full of pennies I keep in the kitchen. The driver was not happy when I poured a load of coppers out of my purse. He muttered something about shrapnel and I didn’t think he was going to accept it…’

  Her eyes (one shadowy with bruises) were starting to look dangerously sparkly, like tears were gathering, and her voice was thickening. I glanced round the office to see if anyone had noticed. That’s the trouble with an open plan office, everyone can see everything, there’s nowhere to have a private conversation. But by a miracle everyone seemed to actually be doing their jobs, staring at computer screens in concentration or calling clients and chatting to them as though they were bezzie mates, before putting the phone down and muttering ‘what a cock.’ All far too preoccupied to notice Kim’s mini meltdown.

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ I told her, ‘I can lend you some money, it’s no trouble.’ Before she could say anything more, I scurried back to my desk to grab my purse and give it to her there and then. That’s £120 she owes me now. Still, that’s what friends are for, eh, being there for each other. I just hope Daryl doesn’t find out, he’ll go nuts if he discovers I’ve been lending out money.

  After a couple of minutes I found a pretext to go over to her desk, hiding the money in a file and pretending to be checking inside it to refer to something official as I actually surreptitiously slipped the note to her.

  ‘And I’m buying you lunch today too,’ I hissed. She nodded gratefully, then brought the curtain of her glossy hair back over her face to obscure it a little while quickly turning back to her computer.

  I could still hear her bashing the keys theatrically as I walked away. She’s no actress, that one. I just hope no one else noticed, goodness knows people are gossiping enough about her since she came to work on Friday with a shiner and a pathetic excuse about opening a kitchen cupboard into her own face. The last thing she needs is people picking up on her money worries too.

  Later we had a chance to chat over lasagne and chips. Today was my first chance to get the full story on what on earth had happened last week, and I wasn’t going to let it pass – or the opportunity to feed her. She looks so skinny at the moment.

  I softened her up first, just chatting about work and telling her about Daryl taking me on a road trip this weekend. I wanted her relaxed, knew she’d open up to me in her own time, and if I asked too many questions, pushed her too much, she’d just clam up.

  We must have looked like every other person in there. A woman sat nearby who had taken accessorising to a whole new level by matching her fake tan to the exact shade of her coat. A cashier behind the till wiped her nose on a tissue then kindly handed someone a knife and fork using the same hand. A waitress twirled her hair round and round her finger while flirting with a handsome man sat at one of the tables, repeating the same phrase again and again: ‘Aww, it doesn’t matter, honest. But you should have come to me really! I’d have sorted it for you. Come to me next time. Come to me next time.’ A couple at the next table getting increasingly annoyed as they tried to get her attention…

  Yes, we must have looked just like everyone else, but I felt like I was on some kind of mission to get this information from Kim, like a spy. One false move and I’d never get the truth. So I chatted seemingly aimlessly, all the time hoping that soon she’d feel comfortable enough to start talking herself.

  ‘Thanks for the money,’ she said suddenly. She put her knife and fork together despite her plate being still half full, then sat back in her seat and rolled her head back, staring at the ceiling and I knew that finally the time had come. I shovelled a mouthful of by-now lukewarm lasagne in, letting the creamy sauce, pasta and mince plug my mouth up and stop me from saying anything to ruin the moment. As I’d hoped, she carried on talking, still looking up, as though she couldn’t bring herself to meet my eye while she told her story.

  ‘God, last week was a nightmare. I finished with Sam, just like I said I was going to. He seemed all right actually, but it was all just a loony act, of course. I didn’t know that, obviously, but I went out with some mates because I wanted to get out of the flat anyway, get away from him. I bloody knew he’d kick off and I
was dreading it, so took Henry to his aunt’s and tried to put as much distance between me and Sam as possible.’

  Her head came forward now, but she still didn’t look at me. Instead she gazed down, apparently fascinated with some crumbs left by the previous customers at the table. ‘There I am having a drink and a laugh, when I turn round and…there he is! He’d only gone and followed me.’

  Somehow I managed to stop myself speaking or gasping in amazement or anything. I forced myself to just stay quiet and listen. But I couldn’t eat any more either, just sat there, holding a fork-full of food that was rapidly going cold and would almost certainly never make it to my mouth.

  Kim reached out, slim fingers moving the crumbs around as she continued.

  ‘I went mental. I mean, talk about a stalker! And you know what he said? “God help any bloke who tries to talk to you tonight.” The look in his eyes when he said it, too. He was crazy. But I didn’t feel scared of him, just abso-bloody-lutely furious. Honest to God, I could have killed him there and then.

  ‘So I stropped off out of the place and started to walk home, and Sam followed me there too. All the way home he trailed after me. We were screaming at each other. He just makes me angrier than any other person in the world. When I’m with him I’m just…ugly. You know? He makes me an ugly person, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I’m just helpless around him…

  ‘When we got in he was still screaming on at me – I’m a bitch, I’m a slut, he loves me, how can I do this to him, the usual stuff. Then we started pushing each other around. He caught me right on my eye, gave me this black eye,’ Kim said, waving her hand in front of her face.

  Her voice dropped even lower, and she leaned forward, still looking down, ashamed. ‘But the really bad thing is what I did. I-I-I picked up a plate that was on the drainer and smashed it over his head! I was so angry I didn’t even stop and think, just…just did it. I could have killed him right then and wouldn’t have been bothered.

  ‘And then, I felt so guilty that…,’ she shrugged. Clearly she’d felt so guilty that they’d ended up having sex and getting back together. Inside I shuddered, scared for her, but I held every muscle tight so that it wouldn’t show. I mean, hello, he’s a total psycho! He’s insane and dangerous, and is sending her over the edge too. Why can’t my lovely mate see that she’s worth so much more than this? Why she can’t just leave him is beyond me, but then they do say love is blind. Blind, deaf, and mentally incapacitated in this case, by the sound of it…

  ‘It’s like I’m addicted to him,’ she explained, talking more to the crumbs than me. ‘I don’t love him. I don’t even like him much. But I can’t seem to give him up. He’s bad for me, I’m bad for him, but the pull towards each other just seems overwhelming. We crave each other, like crack addicts.

  ‘Everyone keeps telling me what a prize shit he is. And they’re right – I mean, I’m not thick, of course I know that. But it’s as much my fault as his when we get physical; I give as good as I get, you know. He slaps me, I smash a plate on him,’ she insisted.

  Hardly the point. But I made myself just nod. Everyone is telling Kim the same thing about how she should leave Sam and she isn’t listening. So clearly a different approach is needed. My theory is, if I join in and tell her exactly what I think, I’ll wind up being consigned to the friend scrapheap, she’ll stop confiding in me, and then where will she be? At some point though, she’s going to realise she is in an abusive relationship, no matter how much she tries to justify it to herself by claiming she is as much at fault as him – and then she’s going to need someone to turn to, someone who won’t say ‘I told you so.’ Hopefully she’ll know that person is me.

  With a sigh she scooped the crumbs into a little pile with one hand, then swiped them into the other hand that was outstretched just below the table. Then she wiped her hands together, slap, slap, slap, cleaning away the crumbs and the subject with the movement. Our hour was up, time to go back to work.

  I kept thinking about her for the rest of the afternoon. The rest of the day. I really hope she’s all right. Bad enough to be in a bit of a sticky situation money-wise, but fella-wise too? It makes me realise how lucky I am to have Daryl. If I were in a relationship with someone as dodgy as Sam I’d scarper pretty damn quick.

  Mon 25

  Hmm, well, how best to describe my weekend with Daryl? Not sure if there is one word to sum it up. Maybe if I write it down and commit it to memory forever that will help.

  He came over on Friday and I got all packed up and we got on the road. I haven’t had a look round his rig for a very long time. When we first got together I’d go with him all over the country but, well, life gets in the way and enthusiasm drains away for trips in a noisy truck, especially after we bought our house together. Fact is, I wanted to be in my comfy home, sitting on my big cream leather sofa and watching telly rather than going glorified camping in my bloke’s workplace. But Daryl has seriously pimped up the cab of his truck – it’s really cool!

  He’s got his laptop in the centre console so he can listen to music on it as well as keep in touch with me and work. There’s a mini fridge stuffed with food and drinks, the bed tucks away so neatly behind a curtain that runs behind the two seats – oh yeah, and how comfy are those seats?! They’re incredible, in fact they almost rival our sofa, and because they are fully sprung they move with the cab, absorbing any bumps in the road so that I didn’t feel a thing. A totally smooth ride.

  We were going along merrily, countryside whizzing past us, when Daryl glanced over at me and smiled, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘Hey, in one of the glove compartments there’s a CD I think you’ll want to hear,’ he said.

  Bemused, I reached up to the locker that ran all the way across the top of the windscreen. ‘Not there!’ shouted Daryl, his voice sharp and angry. I pulled my hand back as though from fire. ‘They’re always locked,’ he explained. ‘It’s safer, otherwise they might burst open if I brake suddenly. With stuff tumbling out it might make me swerve and hit something, it could cause a crash. Last thing I want is to get hit in the face by half a dozen spare rolls for the tacho.’

  Okay, okay. Lecture over, I popped open the glove compartment right in front of me. Inside were some CDs and the one on top had me grinning immediately. ‘Barry White!’ I laughed. ‘No way! Let’s put it on!’

  Seconds later, the opening beat of our song, You’re My First, My Last, My Everything, was pumping out of the impressive surround sound speakers. Daryl started shuffling round in his seat as if he had ants in his pants, head moving back and forth like a demented pigeon.

  ‘Nice groove face,’ I snorted, closing my eyes, biting my bottom lip and scrunching up my face in mimicry. We bobbed and weaved in time to the music, singing along at the tops of our voices. Daryl doing Barry’s bits, and me joining in as a backing singer, ‘Ooooh, ooo-oooh, ooo-ooooh, oooo-ooooooooh!’

  What a laugh! Even Daryl’s ‘ironic’ collection of nodding dogs of various sizes seemed to join in our seated dancing. As soon as it ended… ‘Again!’ I begged.

  ‘Again,’ nodded Daryl, pressing the button. I couldn’t hear enough of our song, it was just exactly what we needed to get this trip off to the right start. We’d been on our very first date when I’d initially heard it.

  We’d met at a house party – wow, I haven’t been to one of those in a few years, but back when I was 22 everyone had them. Me and Hannah had been checking out the place, walking from room to room. Hannah had walked into the lounge and I’d been right behind her but spotted someone I hadn’t seen for ages so took a step back, hanging onto the doorjamb as I leaned in and shouted ‘hi’ over the music.

  I was only a second but by the time I turned, Hannah had already reached the other side of the room and was stepping through the patio doors. Right behind her were two blokes, leaning against the frame and totally checking her out, smirks on their faces as they nodded appreciatively. I’d grinned and rolled my eyes at them as I’d hurried
by – never guessing that I’d end up married to one of them.

  Of course, as soon as I’d caught up with Hannah I’d asked her who the men were. In the darkness of the room, under the flashing disco lights standing on the mantelpiece, she hadn’t even noticed the way they were looking at her, their tongues virtually hanging out of their mouths! Turned out she vaguely knew one of them though, Andy, and he was best mates with Daryl.

  I’d spent the rest of the night alternating between taking the mickey out of them for standing with their tongues hanging out over Hannah, and staring at this gorgeous, tall, mesmerising bloke in front of me who had the coolest, steely-bright blue eyes I’d ever seen. Back then he’d had a head full of dark brown wavy hair that made my fingers just itch to touch it, although now I think of it, even then he had a high forehead.

  ‘I’ve got wavy hair; it’s waving goodbye,’ that was the joke he’d always said back then.

  Neither of us could believe how we knew all the same people and went to the same places yet had never bumped into one another before. I’m the kind of person who tends to take a long time to get to know someone but with him for some reason the attraction was instant. A lightening bolt from the blue.

  Did I ask for his number or did he ask for mine? To be honest I can’t remember – I was a bit worse for wear by the end of the night. But by the time Hannah and I had left together in a taxi, I’d had a big grin plastered on my face and the oddest feeling that this man was going to change my life forever. It wasn’t necessarily love at first sight, but it was definitely something big.

  It’d taken a month to arrange a date though. Daryl had hurt his foot at five-a-side or something, so was resting it for ages, basically stuck at home alone – I’d been so impressed that he was only 25 and already owned his own flat. An older man with a mortgage, a bod to die for, and who was a laugh? He’d seemed too good to be true. I hadn’t been able to believe my luck, so holding out for a month had been a pain but worth it.