by Leanne Wood
People said everything happened for a reason. Maybe she had to go through her trauma so she would meet him – a dark experience that had a bright and beautiful future ahead. Under normal circumstances she probably wouldn’t mix with a psychiatrist; they’d have run in different circles. Maybe Daniel was right. Maybe he was her pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. She’d survived a stormy experience, had released a deluge of tears. If he was her pot of gold then the rainbow may have represented the colourful path she had to travel after the storm of Wolf Industries.
Bridget blinked rapidly, trying to fight away her tears. She wanted to hug him but didn’t want to ruin what they shared.
“I will, Daniel. I’ll try, thank you.”
CHAPTER SIX
B
ridget took a deep breath and for a moment stared into space. Peeking out the window she watched. If she had learnt anything over the past years, it was patience. Beyond her half-opened blinds grey clouds massed. A storm was brewing.
Wolf Industries and the people who’d tried to destroy her, dominated her thoughts. Distraction was only temporary. She wondered about the effects of a lobotomy. If this procedure were still available today would she seek out a surgeon? She knew it seemed drastic. To have an orbitoclast stuck in behind your eye, to tear apart connections in your brain. But how else could she rid herself of the horrid thoughts and feelings? She wanted them gone. She needed them gone. Am I going crazy?
Peace. She needed peace and calm. She burst into tears. Screamed until her throat hurt. She clenched her hands then punched the bed beside her again and again and again. Her head began to pound and she collapsed on the bed. I hate popping pills. Medication had side effects. She had piled on the weight, and felt like a big mass of blubber.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” She hated them. If she had a baseball bat and they were standing in front of her right now, she would bring them to their knees. She would make them feel pain like she had felt pain. Scar them for the rest of their lives she would. And as they hobbled around in pain, they would remember the pain they’d inflicted with every step they took. They would never forget. Nor should they. If she couldn’t forget, why should they?
Samuel Easton had been her warm up. One down, three to go.
Next on her list was Arthur Fuller. Arthur had a big mouth and had been only too happy to spread lies and rumours. He was a gossip monger who loved to embellish stories and didn’t care about the ramifications of his actions. His behaviour was anything but normal for a mature-aged man. His words destroyed self-confidence.
Arthur would soon know what it felt like to be on the receiving end. He would feel the crippling effect; his life restricted. Required to defend his actions, he would be overwhelmed with anxiety. Fear of potential danger would haunt him. Uneasiness would create stress. Gossip would destroy. He would learn that anxiety was a handicap. Invisible to the eye, nonetheless it would make completing the most basic of daily tasks a near impossibility. It was a given. All recipients would endure pain. Her prey would bear restrictions for the remainder of his life.
Arthur had been married to his devoted wife Jill for thirty-two years. She was a trusting soul who had walked around with her head in the sand, oblivious to his lewd and cheating behaviour. It was time for her to receive a little enlightenment. His blatant lack of respect for his wife and the female population would be exposed. Fingers crossed if her plan worked, his infidelity would cost him. You see it was Jill who held the purse strings in their relationship. Arthur had married into a family of great wealth, had spruiked how she liked to keep him happy. What Arthur wanted, Arthur got. Face to face, he would display love and affection – the devoted and caring husband. Behind her back, he referred to her as a ‘cow’. Calling her as ugly as a hat full of arseholes and a crap root. Surely, she would not tolerate a lying, cheating bastard. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Her humiliation and embarrassment would be replaced by strength. Freedom would be bestowed upon her as she reclaimed her vitality. Fuck-around Arthur would be fucked to the gutter where he belonged.
Watching him became a sport, a challenge. Samuel Easton had been her introduction to the art of revenge. Momentum increased. Plans excited. Bravery and self-confidence evolved. Each possessed their individual traits, certain routines and rituals. Arthur always checked his mailbox before leaving in the morning and as soon as he returned at night. It was a puzzling action. The postman only delivered during the day. It was almost as if he were waiting for something. That would be his weakness. Intercept his mail. Ruin his marriage.
Arthur Fuller had made Bridget the butt of all jokes. She would make him feel more than embarrassment. Just his name brought painful memories, and she was back at Wolf Industries…
She had been walking towards the kitchen area when she heard echoes of laughter. Someone must be telling a joke, she thought, after my morning from hell I wouldn’t mind having a good laugh.
She smiled as she entered the kitchen. “Hey what’s so funny?”
The room turned deadly silent. Arthur Fuller, head of Accounts Payable quickly yanked a piece of paper from the bench trying to conceal it behind his back. His face was aglow. No one said a word. Guilty shades of ghostly white and flushing crimson red coloured their faces. Stepping forward with hands on his hips Pierre remarked smugly, “It’s a private joke, nothing to do with you. Anyway, we were just leaving its starting to smell like crap in here. I think you should get the sewer looked at, the smell of shit appears everywhere I go today.”
Like a herd of sheep they followed him out of the room, faces to the floor. No one dared look Bridget in the eye.
The feeling of isolation and rejection was like a slap in the face. Bridget was supposed to be a part of a team. They were supposed to work together. Yet, their actions made her feel as though she was a transplanted organ, incompatible with the main body. Attacked at every opportunity with no remedy in sight. Tears began to well in her eyes. She couldn’t understand why she was being treated this way. Why were her complaints to senior management being ignored? She was performing well in her job; the turn-around in business performance and the positive effects on the bottom line spoke for themselves. Wolf Industries was making more money than it had for a long time. Yet, she endured rudeness and smug remarks daily.
Taking a deep breath she was determined they would never see how their antics affected her. She was stronger than they thought, and wouldn’t crumble beneath their bullying behaviour. A nice cup of tea would settle her upset. The kettle boiled and her teabag released the strong brew. Turning her attention to the notice board she was floored, sickened.
“What the heck!”
Bridget snatched the paper from the board. Glancing around, she couldn’t see another soul. She was alone. How dare they! The bitter taste of bile rose to her throat at the violation. Her pulse throbbed in her forehead. She knew exactly who was responsible but had no proof. In her hand was a picture of a naked, obese woman. A cut-out photo of her face had been stuck upon the large double chin. Rolls upon rolls of marshmallow skin cascaded over the body. Pimple-like nipples dripped from engorged breasts. Dimpled arms, and with legs the size of tree trunks spread wide open. They had been laughing at her. Again. They wanted her to bite, to crumble, to cave but she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Complaining to management would see her labelled as trivial, a trouble-maker. It was obvious from previous management responses that they were not taking her seriously.
Remaining silent and seemingly unaffected was the better option. Rise above it. Walk out with your head held high.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A
rthur Fuller was a lying, cheating creature. Bridget was compelled to be a facilitator of the truth. For the truth would set him more than just free. Honesty and gossip would expose and destroy him. Bridget’s plan would strip him in more ways than one. Her elaborate scheme was set out in three stages. His wife deserved to know the all. Arthur would suffer as she had suffered. He would
learn the power of lies and gossip. Once words were spoken, they could never be taken back. They would never be forgotten. The damage would be done. But her intent went beyond words. Social media was a delightful tool. Gossip could spread to places far and wide with the velocity of a speeding arrow. Sharp tongues would spread the word.
Over recent weeks, Bridget had embarked upon a series of telephone hang-ups. She would drive to the local telephone box, dial Arthur’s home number and when Jill answered she would simply hang up.
As the time got closer for phase two of the operation, doubts began to surface, but she reassured herself of her plan. For it to be a success she would have to rely on Arthur’s wife, Jill. It was her reaction that would seal Arthur’s fate.
Friday was the day. Arthur Fuller, Samuel Easton and Pierre Rainer went to the local pub every Friday night. Bridget had gathered her evidence. She had watched and waited. It was the previous Monday when she had sent an anonymous letter to Jill’s workplace. Sending it there meant there was no chance Arthur could intercept it. It was a simple letter with a subtle clue.
The wrongful actions of a man should not result in the ongoing pain experienced by a woman.
The letter was delivered Tuesday afternoon. Bridget had been sitting in the shoe department trying on shoes when Jill was handed the envelope. The shoe department was close enough so she would see and hear everything without being noticed. The mail was delivered at the same time daily. Observing routines and behaviours was crucial. Tearing the envelope open Jill unfolded the piece of paper. Her eyes scanned the page. She looked up, scanning the store then looked down at the page again. Her eyebrows furrowed. Her lips twitched. She raised her left hand to her mouth and bit her nail. Another sales assistant, Julie approached.
“Is everything okay?” Julie asked.
“I’m not sure…look at this,” she replied, passing the note to Julie while she inspected the envelope, flipping it from the front to the back. The envelope offered no clues, only Jill’s name, and the name of the department store with the address.
“How strange. What does it mean?” Julie asked.
“I’m not sure, but something doesn’t feel right. Like something’s wrong but you just don’t know what. I’ve been feeling that way for a couple of weeks.”
An old lady pushing a shopping trolley approached the counter where they stood. Jill placed the letter back into the envelope and stashed it in the counter drawer. Bridget returned the shoes to the shelf and left the store wondering.
Phase three of her plan would be completed on Friday. It had to be completed. She needed to put Jill out of her misery.
***
Tuesday night Bridget drove to the local telephone box and made the call.
A woman answered. “Good evening, Fuller residence. Jill Fuller speaking.”
“Hello, may I speak to Arthur,” Bridget replied, in a smooth and sultry voice.
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“A friend.”
“One moment please.”
Bridget listened as Jill summoned Arthur to the phone. He asked who was on the line.
“I don’t know. Some strange woman…a friend,” Jill said.
“Hello… Hello…” Arthur said. “There’s no one there.”
Bridget hung up then drove home satisfied with her work. She knew only too well how a person’s world begins to collapse as doubt creeps in. Arthur Fuller had taught her that lesson well.
But she couldn’t keep Jill hanging. When she ventured into the department store on Wednesday, Jill no longer possessed a happy, smiling face. Her eyes appeared dull and full of suspicion, flicking incessantly around the store. Shame welled in Bridget for inflicting pain upon an innocent woman, but she had no other choice. Arthur had shown no regard for Bridget’s personal life, or how his actions would impact her relationship with Zack. She, too, had been an innocent victim.
Before all the issues at Wolf Industries, Bridget had been forgiving, reasonable, and rational. Hurt and survival instincts forced change upon her. Jill Fuller would be collateral damage, but the woman would recover. Arthur Fuller was responsible for the pain his devoted wife experienced. Emotions had to be separated from business. Remaining at a safe distance Bridget would load the gun, but it would be Jill who would fire the bullets. Bridget would watch destruction unfold from afar.
***
Friday afternoon a package was delivered to Jill at work. It contained date-stamped photos from the previous Saturday.
Jill had been at work. The day had been sunny. Arthur had been disappointed at her inability to attend a work function. Jill had purchased him an expensive suit so he would look strikingly professional. But the photos did not show a work gathering at The Hilton where Arthur had claimed he was going. The photos contained only two individuals Jill recognised – Samuel Easton and Pierre Rainer. Jill put a hand to her stomach as Bridget sat in the shoe department, trying on shoes as she watched it all unfold.
The top photo was of Arthur standing proud in his new suit, and appeared to have been taken at a park. Jill smiled. It was obvious she loved Arthur. Bridget had done her homework on the two. They were young when they’d first met, and from all Bridget had gleaned, for Jill, it had been love at first sight. The two had dated for less than a year before Arthur popped the question. Jill had been clearly ecstatic, and Bridget had overheard the woman telling Julie that she’d always viewed herself as the ugly duckling, but Arthur had said she was his rainbow, that she added colour to a world that at times appeared dull.
They were married on their first anniversary.
Flick.
Jill placed the first photo to the back of the pile. Her smile was quickly replaced by a look of shock and horror. Same park. Same pond in the background. This time Arthur was not alone. No doubt she wondered who the strange person was. No doubt she wondered where the photo had been taken. And who had taken the photo?
Flick.
Tears welled in Jill’s eyes as she studied the next photo. Her face reddened, and she quickly looked up and scanned the store to see if anyone was watching. Bridget ducked her head and reached for another pair of shoes. Jill’s hands began to shake. She shook her head.
Flick.
Jill’s eyebrows furrowed. Her face reddened. Her knees weakened. She sat on the chair behind her counter. She continued to shake her head. Bridget began to feel her pain. She knew things would only get worse. She was relieved. The counter was glass. Her view was not obstructed. She felt compelled to watch.
Flick.
Tears streamed down Jill’s face. With each photo she became more distressed. Julie moved to Jill’s side. Bridget knew the order of the photos. Jill was looking at the one of Arthur with his arm around a young woman’s waist. Julie placed her hand on Jill’s shoulder, attempting to comfort the woman. Jill’s shaking continued, as did her viewing of the photos.
Flick.
Next, Arthur danced with the same young woman. Jill placed her hand over her mouth. Her shaking continued. Her jaw clenched. Her face was aglow. Tears ran down her cheeks.
Flick.
Next, Samuel Easton and his wife, Pierre Rainer and his partner, along with Arthur and this unknown younger woman posed for photos together. Jill’s eyes widened. Now she knew her husband had lied to her. Bridget could see in Jill’s face the connections finally coming together. The mysterious phone calls. The strange letter. And now the evidence that spoke for itself. It looked as if her husband was having an affair. The unknown woman looked Asian in appearance and was about the same age as their daughter – who was in her twenties. Bridget watched as Jill put her hand to her mouth, as if she felt sick. Betrayal did that. She had been sleeping with a man who could have brought home any disease, and with what Jill now held in her hand, he would not be able to talk himself out of this one.
Flick.
A new photo revealed Arthur all over the younger woman. His hands touching places no hand should trave
l in public. Jill began huffing and puffing. Her face contorted. Her nostrils flared. She was furious.
Flick.
Devastation hit. Shock. Horror. Anger. Despair. They all took a turn on Jill’s face. Bridget watched, somewhat shamefully, as Jill began heaving. The woman swallowed hard, and clutched at her chest. Her breath appeared restricted. Bridget could well guess what Jill was thinking: how could she have been so gullible, so trusting? How long had it been going on? The man she loved was a liar.
From across the department store Bridget watched as the photos fell to the floor. Jill Fuller burst into tears. Her bellowing cries became an instant siren for all eyes. Her pain witnessed by many. Bridget heard the whispers that theorised the assistant might have just been informed of a death. Why else would a woman burst into hysterics? But Bridget knew the truth. Arthur Fuller would not be able to deny his actions. The final photo had been a hotel room receipt with his signature dated last Saturday. Jill had been working. The name on the receipt was Mr and Mrs Fuller. Champagne. Room service. Meals for two. Adult movie charges. A pamper package for two.
Julie crouched and tried to console Jill, but it was clear Jill was crushed, too distraught. Tears ran like rivers down her cheeks and drenched her white blouse. Five minutes passed before her cries began to subside.
Bridget watched on, saddened by the pain. With every action, there has to be a reaction and a consequence, endings require beginnings. Arthur Fuller was the instigator. Jill slowly gathered her emotions and wiped away her tears. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were red and puffy. She pushed to her feet with the assistance of Julie. Her sniffling echoed around the store as she shuffled from behind the counter. Head down, Bridget watched as Jill struggled to hold back more tears.