by Jo Bannister
Daniel was waiting on the Promenade. But though the matter was clearly urgent – and Brodie still didn't know what was going on – he wanted to take her home before dealing with it.
‘Don't be ridiculous,’ she said dismissively.
‘It's already got nasty,’ he said, trying to explain without whetting her appetite, ‘it's already got violent. It's no place for you. Not now.’
‘And it is for you?’ She stayed where she was in the driver's seat. She was always hard to shift once her mind was made up, and right now she was being stubborn for two.
‘I'm not pregnant. I can take the odd knock if I have to.’
She eyed him sternly. ‘Daniel, I can take you in a fair fight any day of the week. Even now. Even now with one hand tied behind my back. So get in the damn car and tell me where to drive.’
This wasn't what he wanted. She seemed to leave him no choice. And time was pressing. He got in. ‘River Drive. You'll stay in the car?’
‘River Drive? As in, where Adam Selkirk lives?’ Her voice inflected upwards like a raised eyebrow.
‘Yes.’ His voice low, Daniel explained while Brodie drove.
‘Do you think he was hurt?’ asked Brodie when he finished.
‘I don't know. I don't think he was terribly hurt. He was more worried about his mother. But I don't know whether he did what I told him to, and locked himself where Selkirk couldn't get at him. He may have thought helping Marianne mattered more.’
She drove fast, keeping her eyes on the road. ‘You don't think we should call the police?’
‘We may have to,’ agreed Daniel. ‘But…’
She'd heard that But before. It packed more import than most three-letter words – more than many sentences. It said he was thinking several moves ahead, more concerned with the end-game than the attrition. For a moment she tried to think the way Daniel thought. ‘Ah…’
‘What?’ he asked, looking at her, suddenly defensive.
‘You think if you roll up in the middle of a family spat Adam Selkirk's going to deck you. Then you call the police, and from then on it's you that's the complainant, not Noah.’
He didn't deny it. ‘That kid's got problems enough without being the one who puts his father in jail. And I'm not sure,’ he added tersely, ‘that it's helpful to think of it as a family spat.’
‘Of course not,’ acknowledged Brodie, contrite. ‘Not if people are getting hurt.’
‘He's got a black eye, a grazed wrist and something wrong with his left arm that'll never heal if he doesn't stop scratching it. That's what I know about. What I don't know about is what's hidden by his clothes.’
‘Then of course we have to do something.’
Brodie had a number of strengths and a good few weaknesses, and people who knew her as well as Daniel recognised that sometimes they were the same. One was her habit of muscling in on the action. Nature never designed her to sing in the chorus: she had to be at the front of the stage, and if at all possible conducting. It was certainly a fault, intensely infuriating to those whose rights and authority she trampled in the process. But sometimes, having her adjust the natural grammar of a sentence from second person singular to first person plural like that was like hearing the bugles of the Seventh Cavalry topping the rise.
There were lots of reasons, big and little, why he loved her, but one was that he never felt now that it was him against the rest of the world. He always had an ally. To be sure, she complained more than Tonto, and had a longer memory than Lassie, but when push came to shove – even literally – he was not alone, and he knew he never would be. He felt the tears prick and had to avoid speaking for a moment.
Oblivious, Brodie grumbled, ‘Only, if you get a bloody nose, keep it away from me. This bell-tent has to do me till the baby's born.’
River Drive was probably the best address in Dimmock. There were more expensive properties on top of the Firestone Cliffs, beloved of those who liked their consumption to be conspicuous. But the River Drive houses were substantial in a different way: not understated but not boastful either, just thoroughly good houses on large wooded plots with good cars in the driveways and staff flats over the double garages.
There was an elegant Arts &c Crafts feel about the whole street, not hindered by the use of converted gas-lamps for street lighting. Brodie pulled up under the one nearest to the Selkirks’ house. ‘What do we do? Knock on the door?’
‘I knock on the door,’ said Daniel firmly. ‘You stay here, ready for a fast getaway.’
‘You don't really think Adam Selkirk's going to chase you down the drive with a golf club?’
‘I don't know what to expect,’ Daniel said honestly. ‘But I believe in being prepared.’
He took a couple of steps towards the big house, then stopped and turned back. ‘And just for the record, it isn't a bell-tent. You look beautiful.’ He squared his narrow shoulders and headed for the front door.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
He wasn't exaggerating: Daniel had no idea what would happen when he rang the bell. There were lights on both upstairs and downstairs so he wasn't concerned that the drama was over and he was rousing people from their beds. On the other hand, he could hear nothing. Not an argument, not an altercation, not even a disagreement. Perhaps that was how domestic violence was done in places like River Drive -quietly. But there'd been sound and fury enough to terrify Noah only twenty minutes ago, and Daniel doubted there'd been time for a lasting peace to break out. Perhaps it was a lull in the hostilities.
Or perhaps one of the parties had stormed out. There was only one car on the drive - Marianne's midnight-blue Porsche. Of course, Selkirk might have parked in the garage. Daniel wasn't going to know until someone answered the door. If it was Selkirk, the pregnant hush was unlikely to last much longer.
But Adam Selkirk didn't fling wide the door and come out fists first. No one came. Daniel stood on the mat for three or four minutes during which time the house remained lit but entirely silent. He rang again. He turned back to Brodie, watching from the pavement, and shrugged helplessly.
‘Try round the back,’ she called in a low It's half-one in the morning in River Drive sort of voice.
He nodded and was backing away from the door when he heard movement inside. The lock turned and the door opened. ‘Daniel.’
It was Marianne Selkirk as he'd never seen her. If this hadn't been her house he mightn't have recognised her. The ash-blonde hair, released from its elegant restraint, fell about her shoulders in a profusion of sweaty curls, and perspiration made huge damp patches on her T-shirt. It was an old T-shirt, for slopping around at home or even sleeping in, but someone had printed it specially for her. It said: Fundraisers do it again and again because the need never ends.
Daniel had seen her in the power suits that went with the Porsche, and in the designer jeans that are the off-duty uniform of powerful women. He had not seen her in a sweaty T-shirt and leggings before, he had not seen her barefoot, and he'd never seen her with blood on her face from a split lip and bubbling nostril, and the redness that precedes bruising on her forehead, her feet and both wrists. The sight took his voice, and momentarily his breath, away. She didn't look old enough to be the mother of a twelve-year-old son. She did look old enough to be the mother of a country.
When he found his voice he said, ‘Where's Noah?’
Marianne smiled ruefully. ‘In the bathroom. He won't let me in.’
Daniel gave a little chuckle, half sympathetic, half apology. ‘Is he all right?’
‘I think so. Come in and ask him yourself.’
Daniel did as he was bid. ‘Where's your husband?’
She didn't look at him as she led the way upstairs. ‘He went for a drive.’
Daniel didn't like to quiz her but it was important to know. ‘Will he be long?’
‘An hour or so. It's what he does when he needs to calm down - he goes for a drive in the country.’
Daniel reached for her wrist. The bruises stopped him just
in time, but the thought went all the way. Marianne paused on the landing and looked round at him.
‘You shouldn't be here when he gets back,’ Daniel said simply.
She didn't answer. She tapped on the bathroom door. ‘Daniel's here now, darling. You can open the door.’
After a moment they heard the catch and the door opened, and Noah Selkirk stood there in abject despair and his Chelsea pyjamas.
Daniel crouched in front of him, studying the tear-streaked little face and then, lifting the blue shirt, the child's abdomen. There were new bruises, but nothing that seemed to require medical attention. This time his mother appeared to have fielded the worst of the violence.
‘Are you all right?’ Daniel asked quietly.
Noah nodded.
‘Honestly? You're not dizzy? Your tummy doesn't hurt?’
The boy shook his head.
‘OK.’ Daniel stood up. ‘You did absolutely the right thing calling me. Now go and get dressed, and put some things in a bag. Clothes for a couple of days and anything else you're going to want. You're coming to stay with me till things calm down a bit.’ He looked round. ‘Both of you. I've only one spare bed, but we can make Noah comfortable on the sofa.’
Marianne Selkirk dabbed the blood away from her nose. ‘That's kind of you, Daniel. But there's no need. We'll be all right. Won't we, Noah?’
The boy said nothing.
‘All right?’ Daniel's voice soared incredulously. ‘Have you looked in a mirror? Marianne, you've had the crap beaten out of you! I'm not leaving you here. If you won't come with me I'll stay, and then he'll beat the crap out of me. Is that what you want?’
The woman shook her head, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
‘Me neither,’ said Daniel. ‘So get some things together and come down to my house. At least for tonight. We can talk about what you do next in the morning.’
‘What's Adam going to think? When he gets home?’
‘Leave him a note. Don't tell him where you are. Just say you're both safe and you'll call him tomorrow.’
‘What if he calls the police?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Daniel, ‘that's going to happen! Marianne, don't let him make you feel this is your fault. You and Noah have the right to feel safe. If you aren't safe with him here, we'll find you somewhere else. Rent you a cottage somewhere. Once you're safe there'll be time to talk about how you work this out. But putting distance between you is the first priority.’
‘I suppose…’
Daniel thought she'd never actually considered it before. That the violence had become part of their way of life so insidiously she thought of it rather as she thought of cleaning the cooker: not the most pleasant of chores but what are you going to do? If you want the meals you've got to clean the cooker. She couldn't see that these were not inseparable elements - that she could be safe, that her son could be safe, that they could go on living here, but they didn't have to pay for that with weekly eruptions of violence. That if Selkirk couldn't control himself he could be controlled. If they weren't safe living with him he could live somewhere else.
‘Then pack some things.’
Still she didn't move. ‘Maybe you should just take Noah. I'll talk to Adam when he gets back. We'll both be calmer then, and at least Noah will be getting some sleep.’
The boy was hovering on the brink of tears. T don't want to…’
‘Come on, darling,’ she said briskly. ‘Daniel will look after you. And Daddy and I can talk without worrying that we're upsetting you.’
‘You don't talk,’ he whined. ‘You shout.’
‘Well - sometimes,’ she conceded.
‘Actually,’ interjected Daniel, ‘I don't think it's a great idea either. When he comes back and he finds I've taken Noah, he'll be incandescent. If you're still here, you're going to take the brunt of that. Please, Marianne. Please come with us. Just for tonight. Give the dust a chance to settle. Then we'll come back here and talk to him together tomorrow. Please?’
It was in her eyes that, even knowing he was right, she was about to decline. He couldn't believe what she was prepared to take from this man. ‘What are you waiting for?’ he demanded impatiently. ‘For him to put one of you in hospital? For the neighbours to call the police? For me to?’
The glance she flicked at him was surprised and - for the first time - afraid. ‘We don't need the police.’
Daniel shook his head, bemused. The approval of her neighbours mattered more to her than the violence of her husband. Whatever, he thought: if that's what works, that's what we'll go with. ‘But it won't be your call,’ he pressed. ‘If they get a complaint they will act on it. They've been told to move domestic violence right up the agenda. These days they don't even ask the injured party if she wants to bring charges. They see the evidence and they take it from there.’
She glanced uncertainly at the stairs, at the front door. The way he left; the way he'd come back. ‘I suppose, if it's just for tonight…’
‘Get some things together.’
He went out to explain to Brodie. ‘They're coming home with me for a couple of days.’
Brodie looked surprised. ‘All three of them?’
Daniel smiled. ‘Selkirk's not here. Apparently, after beating his wife bloody he feels the need of a little drive to clear his head.’
Brodie pursed her lips. ‘When he comes back and finds them gone, he'll have a good idea where to look for them.’
‘Fine,’ said Daniel. ‘He tries beating my door in, I have no problem calling the police. But he won't. Men who hit their wives and children mostly do it because they're not brave enough to take on anybody bigger.’
Brodie was remembering the scene in the little lobby in Shack Lane. She sounded doubtful. ‘I don't know, Daniel. Last time I saw him he looked brave enough to take a swing at you.’
‘That's fine too,’ said Daniel shortly. ‘He'll only make it easier for everyone.’
‘Except you.’
‘He's a lot bigger than me.’
‘Exactly.’
‘No. I mean, he's a lot bigger than me. If he hits me I'm going down; if I go down I'm staying down. Unless he wants to continue the assault on his hands and knees, that'll be the end of it. Don't worry about me, Brodie. I'm not tough enough to get hurt in a stand-up fight.’
The town hall clock struck twice as Marianne Selkirk's Porsche purred through the centre of Dimmock towards the Promenade. ‘Quarter past two,’ murmured Daniel.
Marianne glanced at him, ready to correct him, but then didn't. She considered for a moment instead. ‘You're very much at home here, aren't you?’ she said quietly.
He didn't understand. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Here - in this town. You know how it works. You know the town hall clock is always fifteen minutes slow. It makes sense to you.’
Daniel was still puzzled. ‘The clock?’
She shook her head. ‘The town. Small town living. You aren't from here. You haven't lived here as long as I have. But you fit in here in a way I never have and never will. Things like the damn clock drive me mad. You just make the necessary adjustment in your head. I envy you that.’
Daniel wasn't sure it was a compliment. ‘Being provincial?’
Marianne laughed softly. Noah was asleep on the back seat, exhausted by fear and emotion, wrapped in his mother's coat. As they left the house, Daniel carrying Marianne's bag, the boy faltered; and Marianne threw her coat around her unhappy son and swept him up into her arms. Noah wasn't a big twelve-year-old, but plainly Marianne wasn't as fragile as she looked either.
‘Being adaptable,’ she said. ‘If something doesn't suit me I go to a lot of time, trouble and usually expense to change it. I think, if something doesn't suit you, you amend your expectations.’
It was partly true and partly not. The bit that was accurate was perceptive for someone he knew very little. The bit that was wide of the mark indicated how little she knew him. Daniel said, ‘Which is why you're a high-powere
d executive with a Porsche and an office in London, and I'm not.’
‘And perhaps also why you're happy and I'm not.’
They'd reached the netting-shed. Marianne stopped the car and they looked at one another in the backwash of the street-lights. The night, and the fact that most of the town was sleeping around them, encouraged both honesty and intimacy.
They weren't friends in the way that Daniel and Brodie were friends; and they hadn't known one another long enough for that other sort of friendship to develop - less intense but still worth having - that comes of simply moving in the same orbit till familiarity breeds a kind of mutual amiability way-marked by the sharing of newspapers and holiday snaps and updates on the dog's boil. In other circumstances it might have been a sexual attraction, but neither of them was looking for an affair, Daniel because all his hopes were vested in Brodie, Marianne because she already had more than enough on her plate.
What was left was two intelligent people recognising in each other a kind of kinship. They were both natural outsiders. Daniel's odd little netting-shed and Marianne's gracious home with its own grounds and top-notch address were both ivory towers, different to the way most people lived. Even the fact that Marianne drove a Porsche and Daniel didn't have a car at all underlined their apartness. Both were in the community but not really of it. Outside the window looking in.
Daniel had said something like that to Paddy once. She'd thought for a moment then nodded. ‘Like Father Christmas,’ she'd said, filling his heart.
‘Come inside,’ he said. ‘Put Noah to bed and get yourself cleaned up, and I'll make some cocoa.’
‘Cocoa?’ If he'd offered her a lightly grilled earthworm she could hardly have sounded more appalled.
Daniel gave an apologetic shrug. ‘After the night you've had, coffee'll keep you awake. Cocoa will help you sleep.’