The Woman at 72 Derry Lane

by Carmel Harrington

  Stella placed her cup onto the mahogany coffee table, with care. Despite the dull ache from her bruises right now, she was feeling euphoric. The more she spoke about it out loud, the more the possibility of leaving Matt was becoming a reality, And Rea’s no-nonsense but kind presence was a lot to do with that.

  ‘It seems that these days anything can set him off. From the moment he came home last Thursday he was like a coiled spring, ready to unleash and attack. I can tell when he’s itching for a fight. It’s always pick, pick, pick, pick.’

  ‘I can’t imagine living like that. You must feel like you’re on a knife’s edge.’ Rea shuddered, thinking of her kind, gentle husband George. She used to count the hours, waiting for him to come home each evening. They’d sit down drinking tea, side by side, after dinner, catching up on each other’s day, while the children fought over the remote control next door in the family room.

  ‘That’s kind of apt. Knife’s edge,’ Stella replied. ‘I thought he was going to stab me with the kitchen scissors. I did everything in my power to avoid a row. I dressed carefully, wearing the outfit he’d chosen. I took care with my make-up, not too much, not too little. Elegant, that’s what he always tells me. That’s how he likes me to look.’

  ‘He’s fierce particular, your husband,’ Rea said. Had George even once suggested that Rea should wear something different? She could honestly say she couldn’t remember a single time where he’d made such a suggestion. His absence pierced her once more. She wished he was here with her. He’d be great with Stella. He’d already be scribbling down solutions on how to help her.

  Stella ran her finger around the rim of the teacup, in gentle circles. ‘He was on a mission to impress his boss and I had a role to play too. The ever, dutiful corporate wife.’

  ‘That sounds exhausting,’ Rea commented. ‘I’ve never been the dutiful type. George, my husband, he would never have dreamed of telling me what to do or what to wear. Nor me him, for that matter.’

  Stella had noticed many photographs scattered around the room of Rea and a family she’d never seen before. She glanced at the one closest to her, her eyes resting on George. He was slightly balding, his hair thinning on top, but laughter lines crinkled his eyes and forehead. He looked like a kind, nice man. In the photograph he was looking down at Rea, tiny beside him. She was almost unrecognisable. Lighter than she was now, her hair glossy and long, loose around her face. But the difference wasn’t her appearance, it was the smile on her face. She was beaming with joy. And kneeling in front of the two of them, messing for the camera with their arms outstretched, high and wide, were a boy and girl. They were fourteen or fifteen, she supposed, in the photograph. If there was a word to describe that image, Stella reckoned it would be love.

  Rea saw Stella looking at the photograph. ‘That was a good day. George had this camera with a timer on it. I’d say that picture was about take number twenty!’

  ‘You’ve a gorgeous family. You look so beautiful there,’ Stella said.

  ‘I’m fat and old now.’ And alone, she thought to herself.

  ‘No, I wouldn’t say that in the least,’ Stella said. ‘You’re still beautiful. But in that picture, your happiness lights up the photograph. I can’t take my eyes off it.’

  ‘Well, in this case, the camera didn’t lie. I was happy.’

  Stella wanted to ask where they were, but didn’t feel that she had earned the right to pry.

  ‘I’ve forgotten what it feels like. To be happy,’ Stella said. ‘I’ve become little more than a wooden puppet.’

  She sighed and looked at her skinny body, too thin for her frame. ‘He controls everything now. What I wear, what I eat, what I drink. He’s taken away my free will.’

  Rea looked at the young woman in front of her and wondered how she got into this position. She had so many questions, but instinct told her to tread carefully, to let her open up to her in her own good time. We all have secrets; Rea knew that more than most.

  A single tear splashed into Stella’s teacup.

  ‘But he hasn’t succeeded, has he? You’re here, aren’t you? He doesn’t know that you are planning to leave.’

  Stella smiled through her tears. ‘I’m not as useless as he tells me I am.’

  ‘Stop that now. Don’t say that about yourself. I’ve only just met you and already I can see that you are a lovely young woman.’ Rea stood up and sat beside Stella on the couch. She turned to face her and although her face had no sign of cuts or marks, Rea reckoned the scars of her marriage ran deep.

  ‘What caused the row last week?’

  ‘He warned me to only have two glasses of wine at dinner. I don’t drink much any more, so he needn’t have reminded me. But then Irene, his boss’s wife, well, she was a little tipsy and decided we should have cocktails. She ordered some mojitos. Insisted I take one, although I did protest at first. But it was nice for a while, having a laugh over nothing and everything with her. She’s a kind woman. I thought I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t. So I took the drink.’

  ‘What’s the big deal in having a mojito?’ Rea was gobsmacked by this admission. ‘Surely by you having a drink with the boss’s wife, you were keeping her happy. Was that not preferable to obeying his two-glass limit?’

  ‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you? It was, as he said, “a direct disobedience to his specific orders”. Not to mention, unscheduled consumption of sugar in the mojito.’

  ‘Sugar?’

  Stella nearly laughed at Rea’s expression. ‘He monitors my weight and my diet. Sugar is rarely on the plan.’

  Rea’s mouth had now formed a perfect O of surprise. She shook her head at this latest revelation. ‘Jeepers, he’d have a field day with me if he saw how much sugar I put away on a daily basis!’ She pushed the plate of biscuits and bars towards Stella, saying, ‘Here, have another one of these.’

  Rea had thought she’d seen it all. That nothing could shock her. But she’d never heard anything so ridiculous in her life. What kind of a man was he at all?

  Stella pushed away the biscuits and looked at her watch. ‘I better go. I’ve been away too long as it is. But I’ll come back tomorrow, if that’s okay?’

  ‘I’ll look forward to it,’ Rea said.

  ‘I think it’s better that Matt doesn’t know that I’ve been here, that we’ve been chatting. He’s sneaky. He’d find a way to uncover what I’m up to.’ Stella didn’t want to consider what Matt would do if he found out she was here, talking about their marriage. What if he lost his temper with Rea? She was only a small little thing, no more than five feet two or three. She’d never forgive herself if he did something to hurt her.

  ‘Well, let’s keep him in the dark. Unless he comes knocking on my door, I won’t bump into him. I don’t go out much. And I’d like to see him try anything with me. Don’t be fooled by my size. I’ve sorted out bigger than him in my day,’ Rea replied. ‘In fact, the thought of picking up a hot poker and giving him a belt across his smug face would cheer me up, no end.’

  Stella and Rea giggled as they both pictured that. ‘I’d pay good money to see it!’

  Then Rea grabbed Stella and all laughter disappeared from her face. ‘Listen to me. You’re too young and too lovely to waste any more time on him. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. I know you want to pick the right time to go. But sometimes there is no perfect time. Promise me you’ll leave, before it’s too late.’

  Chapter 17

  REA

  Up until the previous year, Rea had always lived with someone. Her parents, her grandparents, her husband, her children. She often lamented the lack of privacy she had as a mother to two young children. They followed her everywhere. Even the loo wasn’t sacred as Luca and Elise believed going to the toilet was a spectator sport when they were little.

  It took her a long time to get used to the changes that living on her own brought. The silence. The solitude. The loneliness. But it did have some benefits. Like, for example, she could put down her glas
ses and know that they would be there, untouched, the next morning. George was forever robbing them because he’d have misplaced his own. He’d lose his head if it wasn’t attached to his body. Having sole control of the TV and the remote control was another bonus. And the fact that she could walk around naked, eating a tub of Ben and Gerry’s, if she so desired, wasn’t so bad either. In fact, she desired that very thing, only a few weeks back in May, in one of Ireland’s unfathomable early heat waves. She did of course have the courtesy to close her curtains.

  There were one or two other habits that she had developed that weren’t so good. It’s funny how you only notice them when you look at yourself through someone else’s eyes. Stella had been calling most days over the past week. Sometimes for just a few minutes, others, for a few hours. And while Rea loved seeing her, it wasn’t without some teething problems. Yesterday she had been in the study, tapping away on the laptop for so long that Rea had forgotten she was there. And one of her bad habits came back to bite her. She’d gone for a pee, leaving the door open, as was now her wont. A waste of energy closing the door to an empty house. But mid-stream, she heard a noise and looked up to see Stella standing looking at her, mouth agape.

  Not her finest moment.

  She’d been working on that ever since. No more open doors. The poor girl had been traumatised enough at the hands of her husband, she didn’t need her flashing her bits at her too. It might finish her off.

  The other change was that Rea now had to get dressed every day. She could get away with the odd day being in her pyjamas, but not all the time. Elise would have a fit at the very thought of her mother in her pyjamas day in, day out. And getting dressed, well, that led to all sorts. She thought, well if I’m getting dressed, I might as well shower too. Yep. Big changes afoot in number 72.

  Rea made herself a cup of tea, then walked over to her armchair by the front-room window. It was her favourite spot. She liked to sit there, watch the world go by. Plus, it was almost six o’clock and she wanted to be ready for dog woman. For the past week, at around this time, she’d pass by her house. And three out of the five nights, her dog, a little brown-and-white shitzu, aptly named as it happens, pooped right on her garden path. She was young, in her twenties, Rea reckoned. But old enough to know better. Rea watched her the first time, look all around her, see that nobody was watching, then walk away, leaving a steaming pile behind her.

  Rea opened her window and shouted at her, but the girl pretended she couldn’t hear.

  It was out of order. Having a dog brought great responsibility. Where was her doggy pooper scooper? She just let her shitzu shit on her path.

  Well, today, Rea was ready for her. She never took her eyes off the road. She saw Mr and Mrs Benigan from number 20 jog by in their matching running gear. They were a nice couple, harmless enough. Even if they did look ridiculous. She waved cheerily at them and they at her. She could hear the hum of a lawnmower close by, but couldn’t see who owned it. Cars drove by, slowly, as kids played in their gardens, the sounds of their laughter jingling into the early evening air. Then she saw madam and her dog.

  And sure enough, as she got to number 72, she stopped and Rea heard her say, ‘go on, do your business, Toto’.

  Rea opened up her front door as the little dog raised his leg to have a piss against her cherry blossom tree. ‘If he poops, you scoop,’ Rea shouted down at her.

  The girl kept her head down, scrolling through her mobile phone and ignored Rea. Then, when the dog hunkered down, stage two of his business about to commence, Rea let out another shout, ‘Hey, you can’t let him do that on my path. You need to pick that up. It’s the law.’

  The girl looked up at her and smiled. Maybe she’d gotten the message. She just needed to be told. But then, she said, ‘Come on, Toto, let’s go. Ignore the wicked witch.’

  Wicked witch! Oh little miss la-di-da, I’ve not even started yet. But before she had a chance to respond, she saw Louis running over. ‘Hey, Mrs B. You okay?’

  ‘I’m grand,’ Rea replied. ‘I was about to tell this woman about the poison that had been laid all over my garden, that’s all. Imagine if her little Toto got ill because he was pissing and shitting on my private property.’

  The woman yanked up the dog’s nose as it sniffed the trees on the path to Rea’s house. ‘You’ve put poison on your path? How irresponsible!’

  ‘It’s to keep out the vermin,’ Rea replied, giving the woman the benefit of her best smile. ‘But I thought I’d best let you know, seeing as your dog likes to do his business in my garden so much.’

  ‘Jaysus, your Toto is looking a bit peaky there,’ Louis said. ‘I’d get him home pronto if I were you.’

  ‘Toto, stop that!’ She yanked hard on his lead as he burrowed his nose in the grass beside the rhododendron bushes.

  ‘Oh yeah, time to get Toto out of Mrs B’s, rapid style, if I were you,’ Louis said to the girl and she stormed by, pulling the poor dog behind her.

  ‘No messing with you, Mrs B.’ Louis said. ‘Who’d you get to put the poison down? Not that girl from number 65?’

  ‘As if. There’s no poison! I wouldn’t do that to the poor little dog. It’s not his fault his owner is irresponsible!’

  ‘Respect! Bet she doesn’t come here again. The mighty Mrs B strikes again. Here, give us a bag and I’ll get rid of it for you.’

  ‘For how much?’ Rea asked.

  ‘This one’s on me for giving me another laugh,’ Louis replied, walking up the path, dodging the poop as he came.

  Stella walked out of the study just as he walked in and she quickly scurried back inside, closing the door.

  ‘What’s wrong with her?’ Louis asked. ‘You’d swear she’d seen a ghost!’

  ‘Nothing,’ Rea said, giving him a couple of Twix bars and a plastic bag. ‘Thanks for coming to my rescue. Appreciate it.’

  ‘Not that you needed it,’ Louis said.

  ‘Ah, we all need a dig out every now and then. You’re a good lad.’

  He was chuffed at the praise and stuffed the bars into his back pocket. ‘I’ll have these later after my tea. It’s pizza. Again. Never thought I’d say it but I’m bleeding sick of it. If I never see a piece of pepperoni again …’

  Rea laughed, ‘Romance still going strong?’

  ‘She’s in love. Or so she says. She’s even started to sing. Doing my bleeding head in.’ But Rea noticed he was smiling as he said it. Maybe they misjudged earring guy. Maybe he was alright after all.

  ‘You never know, he might change jobs and go work for the Chinese instead,’ Rea joked.

  ‘Ha! Bleeding right. Laterz.’ And he ran out the house.

  ‘You can come out now,’ Rea shouted into Stella. ‘Have you seen the time? It’s getting late.’ What if dickhead came home and found her here? She glanced behind her, as if the mere thought of him could conjure him up, bursting through the door, demanding to know how much sugar she’d fed his wife.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it had gotten so late.’ Stella felt awful. She hadn’t meant to stay so long. The last thing she wanted to do was take advantage of Rea when she’d been so kind to her.

  Rea quickly reassured her, reading her mind. ‘There’s no rush on my account, I was just worried that Dickhead … er, I mean Matt, might come home.’

  Stella’s face appeared around the corner of the door, ‘What did you just call him?’

  ‘Matt of course, what else?’ Rea lied.

  ‘No you didn’t! You called him Dickhead. The other day too.’ It was the first time in her whole history with the man, where she’d ever heard anyone say anything uncomplimentary about him. He had a way of charming everyone around him.

  ‘I did, you’re right. I’m sorry. No disrespect meant. It’s just …’

  ‘He is a dickhead!’ Stella replied.

  ‘Of the highest order. In my opinion, your husband is proof that evolution does go in reverse order the odd time.’

  Stella looked at Rea for a moment
with such intensity Rea didn’t know what was coming her way next. But then she guffawed loudly, followed quickly by a loud snort. And once she started she couldn’t stop them coming, a series of big loud snorty guffaws of laughter. ‘You have really nailed my husband,’ she finally managed to say.

  ‘Not in a month of Sundays. He’s not my type,’ Rea replied. She was on a roll.

  ‘Stop, you’re killing me,’ Stella held her side. ‘Oh it feels good to laugh. I can’t remember the last time I did. ‘She wiped tears from her eyes, then made an effort to calm down. But now that she’d started to laugh, hysteria had set in. She couldn’t stop.

  ‘It wasn’t that funny,’ Rea murmured. But she was glad to see the young woman laugh. She reckoned there hadn’t been much of that in her life, of late anyhow.

  ‘In all seriousness, though, have you not noticed the time? Is he due home from work? I don’t want him finding you here. You don’t need to give him any excuse to hurt you.’

  ‘He’s in London at the minute, on business. I’ve got the night to myself.’ The delight and relief at this transformed Stella’s face. ‘I’ll get out of your hair now. I’m sorry I took so long. It’s just it’s been so long since I had access to the internet, I keep losing hours looking stuff up. Do you know that there are thousands of sites all with help and information on how to leave your husband? My head is reeling from them all. So many women with their own horrible stories so similar to my own. Isn’t that crazy?’

  ‘People are assholes all over the world,’ Rea said. ‘There’s good and bad everywhere. Seeing as you have a free pass tonight, do you like Indian food?’

  ‘Yes. As it happens, I love it.’

  ‘I was going to order a takeaway tonight, why don’t you stay and eat with me?’

  ‘Gosh, I’d love that. If you’re sure I’m not imposing.’

  Rea thought about all the nights she’d eaten a meal for one, on her lap, watching TV or listening to the radio. Anything to kill the silence of her house, which protested at its sudden change. No, imposing was the last thing Stella would be doing. ‘You’d be doing me a favour. I’d love the company.’