by Karen Osman
‘Dear God,’ she whispered, ‘if you bring my family home safely today, I promise I will never break my marriage vows again.’
She rarely went to church these days but her childhood had been punctuated with visits from the local priest to their school and she had developed her own sense of faith over the years. Saying the short prayer over and over again, it was only when she heard the key in the lock that she got up and ran to take the girls in her arms as if they had been away for a lifetime rather than just a day.
‘You seem better,’ her husband commented, as he closed the front door behind them.
‘I feel better,’ she replied. ‘It must have just been a twenty-four-hour thing.’ Quickly avoiding his gaze, Kate turned her attention back to her daughters.
Chapter 31
Catherine
Catherine was lying in bed half asleep but she knew someone was there watching her. The king-sized bed was on the same wall as the bedroom door, and as she turned her head to the left, she could see through the hazy darkness the slow movement of the door opening just inch by inch. She placed her hand protectively over her belly, feeling the kicks of life that often woke her in the early hours of the morning. Strangely, her husband wasn’t next to her and she had expected to feel scared. Instead she felt outraged. Like a volcano, adrenalin surged through her body like an energy force at the audacity of the intruder. With no warning, the door suddenly flung open, and the shadow of a figure took three jumps across the bedroom and sat in the armchair in the corner of the room. His arrogance was reflected in his position as he placed one ankle on his knee, his fingers interlinked behind his head, looking as relaxed as if he was sunbathing by a pool. The volcano erupted and Catherine jumped out of bed, screaming at him, while throwing every object within arm’s reach at him. Laughing, the shadow slowly dissolved, leaving nothing but a burning inferno in Catherine’s heart.
As she abruptly woke up, her hand on her flat stomach, Catherine turned over, trying to get rid of the imprint of anger stamped on her mind.
Chapter 32
Alison
Alison arrived home for the summer holidays fifteen pounds heavier. She felt her body was a representation of what was going on in the inside, and she knew her inner self was in turmoil. She rocketed from incredible highs, when she felt she could take on anything, to soul-destroying lows that saw her spend endless hours in bed, trying to block out the world. The last few weeks had been very stressful with exams and coursework, and towards the end of term she had rarely gone out. She had never managed to find out if The Professor had been at the conference or somewhere else. He had told her it was a last-minute arrangement covering for someone who was ill. There seemed to be no way to know for certain. Besides, she wasn’t even sure of herself any more. The lack of sleep didn’t help. With a huge amount of effort, she had managed to reassure him that she and Mark were just friends and, while The Professor seemed placated for now, she felt as if they had gone one step forward but two steps backwards.
When the exams’ results had come out at the end of term, she was disappointed to see that her marks hadn’t improved very much at all – certainly not as much as she would have liked, and it sent her into another spiral of worry and anxiety.
She decided to go and see The Professor in his office. She normally went after lunch, around two o’clock, but feeling the urge to talk through her disappointment regarding the exam results, she decided she would pick up some sandwiches and head over an hour earlier than usual. It had started to rain as she was leaving the sandwich shop and she hurried to the law building, cursing herself for forgetting her umbrella. Having finally arrived, Alison was soaked through. She hurriedly wiped under her eyes, certain that her mascara was streaming down her face. No matter, she would sort herself out in his office.
Without knocking, she entered, expecting him to be poring over one of his papers. Instead, the blonde post-grad student was sitting on his desk, while he was leaning over her, showing her something in a book. They were so close, they were touching and Alison could only stare as the two of them looked up in surprise at the drenched figure who had burst in, holding a soggy paper bag of sandwiches.
He recovered quickly. Standing abruptly, he closed the book, and said: ‘Alison! Of course! I’m so sorry – I forgot we had an appointment today to discuss your coursework.’
Alison, finally catching on that he was making a point of her being a student, responded, ‘No problem. I can come back another time if you like.’
‘It’s fine – can you just give us another few minutes while we finish up here?’ he asked.
‘Of course.’
Alison backed out of the room, distractedly heading to the toilets so she could dry off, her unease growing as she battled to remove the image of their heads touching as they pored over the book. She remembered what Laura had said about him being into students. Was it true? Surely she would know if he was seeing someone else? Alison thought back to the odd missed arrangement, the last-minute conference, the phone number, the unanswered texts. Was she being completely blind or just paranoid?
Despite his confession of his violent childhood, the various incidents she had experienced with him had frightened her, and while he seemed to play them down, she was uncomfortably aware that they were more than just arguments. It seemed to get worse when he drank. He was a big man and he could easily put away a couple of bottles of wine in a night. But sometimes, even when he hadn’t had a drop, he was a little rough, especially in bed. So much so that Alison had become nervous about sleeping with him, which of course made her tense up even more. After one particularly difficult evening, he had said to her, ‘You know, I love it when you resist me – it just makes me want you even more.’ Alison hadn’t known what to say. She wasn’t deliberately resisting, she just felt a sense of unease. Maybe this is how sex is supposed to be, she thought miserably. But she missed his gentle touch and when she asked him about it, he had laughed.
‘Come on, Alison, you’re not a quivering teenager! Besides, I know you like it!’ he added with a conspiratorial wink.
And sometimes she did. But sometimes, it seemed to go too far, and she really didn’t like it. His temper still flared and she never knew what would set him off. And while she wasn’t being beaten black or blue on a regular basis; the indent of fingerprints, the slight bruising around the neck and the shoves and pushes all inevitably left their mark, both physically and emotionally.
Mark had noticed a bruise once. It was on the inside of her wrist, revealed when she had taken off her coat, her sleeve rucking up. She had quickly pulled it down again, but not before Mark had caught sight of it.
‘Hey, how did you manage that? It looks nasty,’ he asked.
Caught off guard, Alison wasn’t sure what to say. She tried to keep it vague. ‘I banged it between the door and doorframe. You know that quick-shutting door in the library? That’s the one. I was trying to hold on to a load of books, get through the door, while answering my mobile. Needless to say, the door won that round!’ Alison laughed, aware that she was talking too much and laughing too loudly. That was several weeks ago now. How long had she been covering them up for?
She tried not to annoy The Professor. She rarely brought up Laura’s name and she certainly didn’t mention Mark. Her workload and the pressure of the exams had provided an excuse that she didn’t have time to go out with her friends, so it wasn’t an issue. Instead, when Alison had cautiously broached the subject of summer plans and the fact that her friends were going on a girls’ holiday, The Professor had suggested that the two of them go on holiday instead.
Alison was taken aback by his suggestion. She had never been on holiday with a boyfriend before. She was partly excited and partly petrified, but maybe it was exactly what they both needed.
‘We would have to keep it a secret,’ he said. ‘But it would be fun, wouldn’t it?’
‘It would be,’ responded Alison, trying to keep the uncertainty out of her voice and wondering w
hat on earth her parents would think.
As if reading her mind, he said, ‘You could tell your mum and dad that you’re going on holiday with the girls.’
‘Yes, that’s an idea,’ responded Alison, although she wasn’t keen on such levels of deceit, especially to her parents, whom she knew would prefer to know the truth, even if they didn’t agree with her decision.
Without telling her, he made all the arrangements that very same week and it was booked for the first week of August – a trip to Santorini. He showed her the brochure and it looked absolutely beautiful – and expensive.
‘Don’t worry, I know what it’s like living as student. I’ve taken care of everything. Just bring a little spending money and your bikini,’ he said, smiling. Pushing away her annoyance that he had booked something without checking with her, Alison kissed him, trying to feel lucky that she was with someone so generous.
Now, lying on her bed at home, she imagined the two of them, hand in hand, strolling along the beach, tanned and relaxed, able to enjoy each other’s company without worrying about being the subject of gossip. As she sat up, she felt the extra tummy rolls over her waistband and realised she also needed to lose those extra pounds before she would be seen dead in a bikini.
*
As Alison relaxed into the comfort of her childhood home, she could feel the tension of the term fall away and she took comfort in the daily routines of family life. Away from everything, it gave her chance to think, and she was surprised to find that she was sorry she was missing the girls’ holiday in July. When she spoke to Laura on the phone, it was all Laura could talk about. Perhaps she could do both, thought Alison. But there was no way she could afford it. Despite Laura begging her to change her mind, she hadn’t told her friend her holiday plans – she just mentioned that she might be going away with her family for a bit. Another lie. Lying was all she seemed to do lately. And she was about to tell another one.
Sitting down to breakfast with her parents one morning, she explained that she would like to go on holiday with some of the girls from her course in August and while she had some savings for the actual holiday, would they mind giving her a little spending money? Her parents, eager to make their daughter happy, were pleased that she was taking a break with friends and, after getting all the details of the hotel and the flights, agreed. Her mum even took her shopping, generously splashing out on some new summer outfits, a beach bag, new sandals and a beautiful sundress. It would have been the perfect day if it hadn’t been punctuated by deceit, and the fact that her mum was so excited about spending a day shopping with her daughter only made Alison feel worse. She had never lied to them before – she’d never had the need to – and it tainted the experience of what should have been an enjoyable trip.
Alison tried to ignore the growing feeling that something about the upcoming holiday felt wrong. But as August drew close, she found she could push the doubt away and she got excited at the thought of a week with The Professor. It would be different when they were on holiday. Their lives in Durham were so stressful with all the studying and research, it was bound to have an impact eventually. But in the Santorini sun, surrounded by glorious views, she knew they would be able to relax. She had only seen him a handful of times in July as he was busy working, but unlike at the start of their relationship where his communication had been sporadic, he was now regularly messaging and calling. Alison started to feel something like happiness again and her mum commented on it. She was pleased Alison had settled into university and had made some good friends. If only she knew.
*
The night before she was due to leave, Alison and her friends from school had arranged to meet up in town for a few drinks. They were planning to go to a new restaurant and bar. It had a large outdoor terrace and Alison was looking forward to an evening outdoors to enjoy the long summer night. Saying goodbye to her parents, she left the house at seven o’clock and while en route quickly messaged The Professor to tell him her evening plans and that she couldn’t wait to see him tomorrow. She was meeting him at Newcastle Airport at lunchtime to catch their afternoon flight.
Arriving at the restaurant, the girls quickly settled in to an evening of conversation over drinks and food, and Alison got so caught up with her friends’ news that it was a good three hours before she thought to check her phone. Picking it up, she was shocked to discover ten missed calls. Thinking an emergency had happened, she quickly checked her phone. They were all from one number – The Professor. Slipping away from the table, she called him back immediately, wondering what could have happened. Perhaps his mum was ill again and he was unable to go on holiday? He answered on the first ring and before she could even say hello, he was shouting down the phone.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ he roared. ‘I’ve been calling you for hours.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Alison sputtered, her mind conjuring up all sorts of emergencies. ‘My phone was in my bag, and I didn’t hear it above the noise. What’s happened? Are you OK? Is your mum OK?’
Alison barely deciphered the following outburst; it was so full of rage and accusations that it was some time before she managed to work out that there was no crisis; no one had died or had an accident, he had simply wanted to get hold of her. He started accusing her of lying and being with another man, she could feel his hatred emanating down the phone, and her hands started to shake. She became frantic, and it took over twenty minutes, and a lot of reassurance that she was simply with her school friends and would be heading home in less than an hour, to calm him down. Finally, she hung up but not before he extracted a promise that she would message him when she reached home. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she wondered how a nice evening could have gone so wrong in just a few minutes.
Agitated, Alison felt the happiness drain out of her and, as she headed back to the terrace, she called a cab to take her home.
*
Alison rooted around for some change for a coffee. She hadn’t slept well at all, and her eyes were puffy from the mix of crying and lack of sleep. Her parents, thankfully, had put it down to too much indulgence the night before, and had cheerfully waved her off in the taxi, none the wiser. Alison was dreading seeing The Professor; what would he say to her? What would she say to him? But if she was expecting an apology, none came. Instead he had acted like nothing had happened, gave her a kiss, hugged her warmly and seemed genuinely happy to be with her. Alison wondered if perhaps he had been drinking the night before and simply couldn’t remember. Or was this just simply normality now? Either way, she wasn’t going to tempt another argument by bringing it up. Confused, she excused herself to the ladies’ and spent a few minutes making herself breathe normally. It’s all going to be OK, she told herself. After a few minutes, she splashed her face with cold water, applied some mascara and lip-gloss and plastered a smile on her face. Heading out to join him, she tried her best to match his good mood about their holiday.
*
Looking back a few weeks later, she thought their trip had turned out better than she’d expected. He was the perfect gentleman while they were away, making her coffee every morning, preparing her sun lounger, pulling her chair out for dinner as they enjoyed juicy fruit and vegetables, crumbly feta cheese and ice-cold glasses of crisp white wine. He was also the perfect tour guide, explaining all the different landmarks and their history. Santorini was made for lovers and they saw several weddings during their holiday. As a series of volcanic islands, the rugged cliffs made for beautiful vantage points for watching the sunset. The Professor was an excellent storyteller and the legends he told made the island come alive for her. Even their lovemaking – and Alison could now call it that – had taken on a less aggressive rhythm and he spent time caressing her, gently pulling her into a world of pleasure. Gradually, Alison relaxed into him, enjoying the romance of her first love. Their life in Durham seemed a lifetime away and as the lazy, sunny afternoons gave way to carefree, romantic evenings, Alison’s apprehension gradually receded as
quietly as the tides of the Aegean Sea.
Chapter 33
Kate
‘You’re complaining that there isn’t enough money for food shopping, yet you just spent a fortune on a dress. When the hell do you wear a dress anyway?’
It was a Sunday, the day after the Edinburgh trip, and neither she nor her husband had slept well the night before. Both girls had come into their bedroom, complaining of monsters under the bed. Having taken them back to their own room twice, sheer exhaustion had made Kate let them slip into bed between them. It was the only way anyone was going to get any sleep. Despite sleeping through most of the girls’ midnight antics, her husband still looked tired and his mood was sour. It wasn’t helped by the fact that he had found a receipt in the desk drawer for a dress she had bought. She had meant to put the receipt somewhere else but she must have forgotten. She hadn’t planned to buy anything for herself. The girls needed new shoes and they had gone into town to see if she could find any in the sales. It was the bold, black and white polka-dot pattern that attracted her attention, along with the eye-catching, red ‘SALE’ tag, in the window. The dress was fitted with a wide black belt that emphasised her tiny waist, made to look even smaller by the shoulder pads. Going into the shop, Kate slipped it from the hanger. The girls were agog at their mother wearing something so different from her usual leggings. As soon as it slipped down over her frame and she heard the girls’ cries of approval, she knew she wanted it. The sales assistant had zipped her up at the back.