by Linda Green
I watch as the approval-ometer on Dad’s face moves up another notch. We all sit down again. It feels like Lee’s charm has won the first bout. Dad appears to be on the verge of throwing the towel in. The waiter comes over to take our drinks order.
‘I think a bottle of champagne is in order,’ says Dad. Lee’s charm offensive has won out. Dad is back onside, where I need him. The two men I love most in the world are going to be there for me, whatever the future holds.
PRIVATE MESSAGE
Sadie Ward
01/10/2017 11:22pm
I met her yesterday – Lee’s ex-girlfriend. Emma, her name is. Emma McKinley. Although you probably knew that. She’s an actress. Not a dead famous one, she does soaps and extra parts on TV and touring theatre stuff. She was in Emmerdale for a while a few years ago. Not that either of us ever watched it. I probably shouldn’t have met her, I know that. But I tracked her down online and got in touch after the police told me she’d given her statement.
She’s very pretty. Or rather, she used to be. I googled her to see what she looked like when she was in Emmerdale. She looks very different now, of course. It’s like someone sucked the air out of her, she’s that gaunt. Not surprising really, when you consider what happened. He beat her, Jess. He beat her really badly. Not at the beginning. She said he was all sweetness and light at the beginning. But later, when they moved in together. It started with a slap. Just one slap. And he was dead sorry afterwards and promised her it would never happen again. But, of course, it did. Time and time again. And every time, she let him off because he was so upset by what he’d done. She thought she could help him to stop, to become a better person.
Until they went to Venice on holiday. He broke her jaw, Jess. He broke her fucking jaw. She never reported it – she was too embarrassed in case it ended up in the papers. But she did at least dump him afterwards. She moved back to London. That’s where she lives now. And she didn’t have any further contact with him. She didn’t know he’d married or that you’d died until she came back to Leeds to visit and a friend told her. That’s when she decided to go to the police. She’s got photos, Jess. Photos of what he did to her. And records of her treatment in the hospital in Italy. There was a witness too, at the hotel where they were staying. A maid who came in just afterwards and saw the blood and everything.
And all the time she was telling me this, all I could think of was what he must have done to you. The times you didn’t show up when you were supposed to and you said it was because you’d had a bad night with H. The time when you explained away a bruise as an accident. I thought about them all, Jess, and I cried big fat tears for you. For what he did to you and the way you must have suffered.
But we are not going to let him get away with it, Jess. Emma is prepared to go to court if necessary and so am I. The truth will come out. I just wish it had been in time to save you. X
Jess
Saturday, 2 April 2016
No! Although I scream the word, I do it silently in my head. Which is fortunate, because I am in bed at Lee’s and he is in the kitchen cooking a late breakfast.
My heart is hammering against my chest, as if trying to alert me of the impending danger. My eyes, when I see them reflected in the wardrobe mirrors, are wild and staring. My whole body is trembling. I do not want to believe this. I do not want my happiness spoilt. Whoever is doing this, and however they are doing it, they are doing it on purpose to hurt me. I know that.
But what I can’t deny now is that they know stuff. Stuff that I don’t even know yet. But stuff that, if I allow myself to consider it for a moment, makes perfect sense.
The waitress in the hotel in Venice. The one who dropped the tray. What if she did recognise Lee? What if she recognised him because she had seen him before, in the same room but with a different woman? One who was lying on the floor with blood on her face when she unexpectedly came into the room.
It seems too implausible to make up. That is what’s unnerving me. I didn’t tell anyone about her. No one apart from Lee and the waiter who cleared up know what happened. So how the hell am I reading about this in a post Sadie supposedly writes eighteen months from now?
I turn off my phone – completely off this time. I get up and put it in my backpack in the corner of the room. It is not a case of out of sight, out of mind, though. How can it be? How can you read something like that and simply forget about it?
Because if, for a moment, I accept that it is true, then I am engaged to a man who attacked his ex-girlfriend so violently he broke her jaw.
It can’t be true. This is not happening to me. I have an amazing new life and I am not going to let anyone trample all over it by trying to scare the shit out of me.
I put my silk wrap on, the one Lee bought me in Venice, and walk through to the bathroom. The kitchen door is shut but I can hear the bacon sizzling in the pan and the radio in the background. Lee is singing along to the Kaiser Chiefs. I want to smile but the muscles in my mouth won’t allow it.
I go into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I refuse to be scared by this. I refuse to let them mess with my head. No one is going to screw with me.
I turn the shower on and take off my robe. I look at my body in the mirror. The smooth, unblemished skin. It is lies, all of it. I would know by now if he was like that. He has never even lost his temper with me. I have a shorter fuse than he does. One incident in a hotel room in Venice does not turn him into a wife murderer. He has never hurt me and I have never seen him hurt anyone else. That is what I need to stay focused on.
I step into the bath and shuffle behind the shower screen. It’s slippery. He needs a bathmat really. But you don’t suggest getting a bathmat to a man like Lee. He would just laugh and say I’ll be buying knitted toilet-roll covers next.
I reach out and turn up the temperature. It needs to be hot today. Hot enough to take my mind off things. I shut my eyes and let the water hit my face, then begin to shampoo my hair. But all I can see is the face of the girl in the hotel room in Venice. Her look of shock and unmistakable fear. That is why she put the note in my case. Because she saw what happened to the woman before.
I realise I am shaking. I run through it one more time, the way Lee told it. Maybe he did look like her ex-boyfriend. Perhaps the fear in her eyes was to do with her ex. And the note? Be careful. Maybe she was simply warning me off getting serious. If she’d been treated badly, she might have a problem with all men. I felt like that after Callum dumped me. I could easily have screamed a warning at any woman who had gone anywhere near a man.
I turn off the shower and reach out for the towel. It is only then I realise I have left it on the back of the door. I step out of the bath with my hair over my eyes and reach for the towel – but touch Lee’s shoulder instead. I jump and let out a gasp. I hadn’t even heard the door open.
‘Hey,’ he says. ‘It’s only me. I was going to tell you that breakfast’s ready, but now it’ll have to wait.’ He starts kissing my shoulders. ‘When you go wedding dress shopping later,’ he says, ‘make sure you get an off-the-shoulder one. I want everyone to see what gorgeous shoulders you’ve got.’
His hands cup my breasts. He kisses me hard on the neck. I want him so badly. I want him to make me forget about everything I have just read. To be the Lee I know. The one who worships the ground I walk on. Who would never hurt me. Not in a million years. I let out a moan as his hand moves between my legs. My body wants this. My body wants him inside me. And there is no reason that my body would lie to me.
He takes his dressing gown off and pushes me back against the tiles. I bite down on my lip as he slips inside me. And I let him fuck me up against the bathroom wall. Fuck me so hard that for a few moments I can barely remember what my name is, let alone what I just read.
*
I walk into the city centre to meet Angela later. My brain is still aching, my body still tingling, like they ha
ve had a fight with each other and won’t let it go.
Angela has arranged this, made appointments with all the bridal shops. She told me that all I had to do was turn up. Normally, I’d hate having other people telling me what to do and where to go. Today, I’m quite relieved. I’m not sure I’m capable of organising a trip to the toilet at the moment, let alone an entire wedding.
I arrive outside the first bridal shop on the list. It looks a bit traditional for my liking. Angela waves at me through the window. I manage to assemble a smile and what I hope is something at least bordering on excitement as I enter the shop. She rushes over and kisses me. It is apparent that she can barely contain herself.
‘Hi, Jess. Oh, they’ve got some lovely dresses here. I couldn’t resist having a quick look while I was waiting. I’ve seen at least three which Lee would love already.’
A tall woman wearing a shift dress comes over to us. ‘Hello, I’m Julia. And you must be Jess – or, rather, the future Mrs Griffiths.’
If Sadie were here she would probably punch her. To be fair, she’d be quite entitled to. I resist the temptation and nod politely instead.
‘And how lovely to come shopping with your future mother-in-law. I’m sure you’ll be able to find something your fiancé will absolutely adore.’
Everyone seems particularly keen that Lee likes the dress – less so that I do.
‘Right,’ she continues. ‘Let’s go through a few basics to narrow things down. White or ivory?’
I am tempted to say red, but I don’t think for a minute that she would appreciate my sense of humour.
‘White would be lovely,’ says Angela.
‘Actually, I was thinking ivory,’ I say.
Julia looks between the two of us but Angela offers no resistance.
‘Right. And have we got a particular style in mind?’ Julia asks.
The fact is I could describe the dress I will wear to marry Lee in minute detail. I have seen it. I know every inch of it because I have looked at it so many times on my timeline. But I can’t possibly tell her that.
‘I’ll know it when I see it,’ I say.
‘Well, that’s good to hear,’ Julia replies.
‘I think we’re looking for timeless and classy,’ says Angela. ‘Think Grace Kelly and you won’t go far wrong.’
‘But off the shoulder,’ I add, remembering what Lee said. ‘I’d like it to be off the shoulder.’
Julia smiles. ‘Lovely. Let me go and see what I can find. I’ll be back in a moment.’
‘This feels really weird,’ I say to Angela as we wait. ‘I can’t believe I’m about to try on a wedding dress. What if I don’t suit wedding dresses?’
‘I wouldn’t worry. You’d look gorgeous in a bin bag.’
‘Do they do them in ivory?’ I ask.
Angela laughs. ‘I’m so glad our Lee is marrying a girl with a sense of humour. Between you and me, his last girlfriend seemed to have lost hers. If she ever had one, that is.’
Everything clenches inside me. I do my best to keep my face neutral. ‘Did he go out with her for long?’
‘About a year. I thought she was going to be the one at the time. Though I can’t say I was keen. She was an actress. I’m not sure she was the settling-down type. And Lee wants a family. He’s quite definite about that.’
I nod and fiddle with my engagement ring, trying desperately to stop my hands from shaking.
‘Is that why they split up then?’ I ask.
She looks down at her hands. ‘I imagine so. It was certainly our Lee’s decision. He came back from a holiday they’d taken together and said he’d ended it. I never saw her again. Not even on the TV. Emma Mc-something, her name was. I’d know her if I saw her. Pretty enough – long red hair. Not a patch on you, mind.’
I feel as if I might throw up. Julia returns with an armful of dresses, but I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to run away and lock myself in somewhere and sing ‘La, la, la!’ very loudly as I clap my hands over my ears.
‘Here we go,’ Julia says. ‘How about we start with this one?’
She holds one of them up. It has a satin bodice and a fishtail skirt. I am not really looking at it. I am staring at the one behind. The dress I marry Lee in. I feel as if the four walls are closing in on me. I can’t escape now, even if I decide that I want to. Unless . . . unless I change things. Mix them up a little bit. Maybe if I don’t wear that dress I can change what happens. It might be like the film Sliding Doors, only instead of which tube train I get on, it is which dress I wear that will decide my future.
‘Yes,’ I say, taking the dress with the fishtail skirt from her. ‘I love it. I’ll go and try it on.’
Julia hovers outside the changing room and pokes her head around the curtain a couple of times. ‘Are you OK in here? Let me know if you need a hand.’
I let her come in to do up the clasps at the back of the bodice. She thinks it’s because it’s awkward to get to them, but actually it’s because my hands are shaking too much. I step out of the changing room and look at my reflection in the mirror. I look completely different to my wedding photo. And I could wear my hair long, maybe curl it a little?
‘I love it,’ I say, turning around.
‘You don’t think it’s a little too revealing, do you?’ asks Angela, eyeing the bodice. I look up to see she is asking Julia, not me.
‘If you’ve got a fantastic figure, you may as well show it off,’ says Julia. ‘Especially if it’s your wedding day.’
‘Right. Well, that’s me sorted,’ I say.
‘But aren’t you going to try anything else?’ Angela appears horrified. Clearly this dress is well wide of the Grace Kelly mark.
‘I don’t need to. I love it.’
‘It is useful to compare styles,’ says Julia. ‘You never know, you might find something you like even better than that one. Maybe try two more?’ I suspect she has a degree in mother-and-daughter bridal dress negotiations.
‘OK,’ I say, deciding it will probably be the easiest way of placating Angela. ‘I’ll try the one with the full skirt.’
‘The taffeta, yes,’ replies Julia, holding it up.
‘And this one,’ says Angela, taking hold of the real wedding dress. ‘I think you’d look gorgeous in this one.’
I may as well do it to keep her happy. It doesn’t really matter because I am not going to change my mind. I follow Julia back into the changing room. I try the taffeta one first. I actually laugh when I see myself in the mirror. I look like an oversized fairy with an attitude problem.
‘Maybe not,’ says Julia.
‘Definitely not,’ I reply.
I try not to look while I am putting on the other dress. I’m simply doing it to placate Angela. I will get it on and off as quickly as possible and buy the first dress I tried on.
It is only when I step outside and see the look on Angela and Julia’s faces that I realise it might not be so easy.
‘Oh, Jess,’ says Angela. ‘You look absolutely beautiful.’
‘That lace top does look adorable on you,’ says Julia.
‘I still prefer the first one,’ I say.
‘I do think this one is more demure,’ says Angela. ‘I’m sure Lee would love it – and your father, too.’
It’s a low-down trick, but I’m not going to fall for it. Dad will be happy whatever I wear. As long as I’m happy, that’s what he always says.
‘Thank you. It is nice, but I definitely prefer the first one. I said I’d know it when I see it and I did.’
Julia glances at Angela, like an auctioneer checking if there is going to be a final bid. There isn’t though, only a shrug of resignation.
‘Right,’ says Julia. ‘I do believe we are sorted – and in record time too.’
I go to the changing room and take off the dress, hoping I am shedding
not just the outfit but everything that came with it. Freeing myself to map out a new future – one where I can shape the ending, can take back some sort of control of my life.
*
Angela takes me to a cafe further along the arcade afterwards. We order coffee and cake and sit down at a table by the window.
She gets her mobile phone out of her bag; I get the impression she is still pissed off with me. ‘I’m just going to ring the other bridal shops to let them know we shan’t be needing them.’
But before she can make a call her phone rings.
‘Hello, Julia,’ she says, a note of surprise in her voice. She is quiet, listening intently and offering the occasional ‘I see’. I’m straining to make out what is being said on the other end of the line, but I can’t hear it above the din of the coffee shop.
‘I’ll ask her,’ Angela says, after a while. ‘I’ll give you a call back to let you know one way or the other. No – no worries. These things happen.’
She puts the phone down and looks at me. ‘That was Julia,’ she says. ‘The dress you chose was actually bought by someone else this morning. Her assistant should have put a reserved tag on it but she forgot. She’s new, you see, and it was very busy. Anyway, Julia rang the company but unfortunately it’s out of stock and they won’t be getting any more in till August at the earliest. She was very apologetic and she said she’d give us a ten per cent discount on the other one you tried on – if you’d like it, that is. We can go to the other shops if not. It’s up to you.’
I look down at my hands, which are shaking beneath the table. It doesn’t matter what I do; I can’t change anything. However hard I try, I will be thwarted somewhere along the line. Resistance is futile. I may as well accept my fate.
‘I’ll take the other one then,’ I say quietly.
‘Are you sure?’ It’s almost as if she feels sorry for me now that she’s got what she wanted. Almost. For all I know she cooked this up with Julia while I was getting changed. It doesn’t matter how it happened, though. Not really. All that matters is that it did.