I Own You

by Dawn McConnell

  ‘The doctor’s been round and he’s put Stuart on valium,’ she said. ‘Callum’s here too – he can’t believe what you’ve done. He’s furious with you. Right now, he’s ready to kill you and Bryce.’

  Oh shit. Callum! In all the planning and the plotting, I hadn’t thought how this would impact on my son; I’d been too worried about making sure Bryce and I escaped alive. Even though, at twenty-two, Callum now had his own life and flat in Glasgow, I had failed to consider breaking the news of my marriage break-up to him in person and, now, it appeared Stuart had got there first with his own version of events. Poor Callum! And poor Hannah was bearing the brunt of holding up both of them.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Hannah.’ I apologized again. ‘I’m sorry this has all fallen on your shoulders. Is there anything I can do from here?’

  ‘Well, you could think about coming back maybe and picking up the pieces yourself?’ she said tetchily.

  ‘You know I can’t do that, Hannah,’ I said gently. ‘He’d kill me. I’ve got to give him some time to get used to all this and hope he calms down.’

  ‘Right now he’s more likely to kill himself,’ she snapped.

  As we said goodbye and I put down the phone, I felt sick with worry and guilt. I couldn’t live with myself if Callum lost his dad because of me. No matter what Stuart was like as a husband, he was still Callum’s father and they shared a close bond. Meanwhile Stuart turned to ever more desperate measures in an attempt to entice me home.

  ‘You can have Bryce for your lover as long as you come back to me,’ he wrote in one text. ‘I’ll do anything to have you back. I know I’ve been a bad husband – Hannah’s explained it all to me – but I can change. I’ll be better. I can’t live without you. Please come home, Dawn.’

  This was the usual way with Stuart – either outright aggression or self-pity, all engineered to get me back under his sway – but nothing in the world could have tempted me to go back to him. This was the end and we both knew it.

  It was a strained two weeks in Cyprus. I wanted to enjoy my freedom with Bryce, but at the same time I couldn’t help worrying about everyone back home. Callum was refusing to take my calls and Stuart had collapsed one evening at a petrol station after ‘overdosing’ on valium. It wasn’t enough to kill him, of course, not even enough to warrant having his stomach pumped; he’d just swallowed enough pills to get everyone’s sympathy and attention.

  ‘Are you made of stone?’ Mum texted one night when I said I thought Stuart was overreacting to gain public sympathy. ‘The man is distraught.’

  Don’t be so naive, I thought. He was a master manipulator, my husband, and he knew exactly how to play to the gallery. But I couldn’t say that, of course. Frustratingly, I couldn’t say anything that would make me seem even more cold-hearted than I already did. Certainly, in the PR battle, Stuart was already gaining ground. It didn’t seem to matter how he had controlled me over the years, hit me and hurt me. Everyone was only worried about him.

  So I simply wrote: ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine once he calms down. He knew this was coming. Our marriage has been over for years.’

  After two weeks Bryce returned home for some meetings while I took a flight to Portugal. Judging from Stuart’s erratic text messages, which still came in at all times of the night and day, ranging from threats to kill me to sweet nothings intended to soften me up, I needed more time to lay low.

  By this time I was down to my last few hundred euros so when I landed at the airport I took out my company credit card to withdraw some money. But I was mortified when it was refused by the ATM. It’s probably just because I’m trying to get cash out from abroad, I reassured myself. Thank God I’ve hidden a few hundred euros in our holiday house!

  With the last of my cash I hired a rental car and drove up to the house. There, I sent an email to my bank manager Sadie Peach – we had known each other for a long time and as two young, high-flying women, we had formed a good rapport over the years.

  ‘Just had my credit card refused,’ I wrote. ‘What’s going on?’

  Five minutes later, I got a reply.

  ‘I’m really sorry, Dawn. Stuart and Callum have signed you off as director from your companies. You have no access to the accounts. I’m really sorry – there’s nothing I can do.’

  Now, for the first time since I’d left home, I broke down. It wasn’t so much what Stuart had done, it was the fact that he had managed to convince our son to take his side. Callum had been a director of our companies for years now: it was our life insurance policy. If anything happened to me and Stuart at the same time, Callum could instantly take control of the companies. But now Callum had been convinced to use this corporate set-up against me.

  I’ve been so stupid, I berated myself. Why didn’t I take my son into my confidence? I had been so worried that he might not understand and would give me away to his father that I had ended up making an enemy of my own child. Now he was exorcising me from his life and from my own businesses too. I cried and cried that day, frightened that I had just gambled with my life and lost it all. Terrified, I called my lawyer.

  ‘It’s not legal,’ he said when I explained what had happened. ‘He can’t just steal all the matrimonial assets. Give me a bit of time, I can fix this. Don’t worry.’

  I stayed just five days in Portugal, enough time to catch up with some of my Portuguese friends, who all congratulated me on my finally leaving Stuart. They knew what my husband was like – over the years, I had confided in them and they had been appalled by what I’d described.

  Just hearing their reactions gave me strength. ‘It had to be done,’ they said, and I knew it was true. If I was going to have a future with Bryce, I needed to break away from Stuart once and for all.

  Even so, this certainty didn’t prevent my nerves bubbling to the surface as I boarded the plane back to Glasgow. Stuart was so volatile, so unpredictable, that I had no idea what to expect next. Bryce picked me up from the airport and drove us back to his house in the country. It was a beautiful converted barn with amazing glass walls that looked out over rolling countryside. All my clothes were in his wardrobe and my shoes lined up neatly underneath. For a moment, I stared at them. Just seeing my familiar things gave me a tiny bit of hope that maybe one day this would be my familiar, everyday life with no more dramas.

  That night, I dialled Callum’s mobile number from the house phone and because it came from an unknown Scottish number, he took the call.

  ‘Callum, it’s me, I want to talk to you,’ I said quickly. ‘Please don’t hang up.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk to you, Mum. Not after what you did.’

  ‘Callum, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

  There was a long, angry silence. And then:

  ‘You know, Mum, I understand why you left him. I really do. I know what Dad is like . . . it’s just the way you did it. So sneaky, so underhand. You left him for another man. You should have just left him first.’

  ‘I know . . . I know . . . but, look, life’s not always that straightforward, it’s not always so cut and dried like that. Can I see you? Please, there’s so much I need to tell you. I want to explain this all face to face.’

  I held my breath as I waited for his response. Please, Callum, please . . . Give your mum a chance . . .

  ‘Yeah, okay,’ he said slowly. ‘But not with him. I don’t want to meet him. Ever!’

  ‘That’s fine. Right now, I don’t want you to meet him either because I love him, Callum. And one day I’ll marry him so I don’t want you to meet him in anger. For now, let’s just get you and me back on track.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘I’ve missed you, Callum. A lot.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve missed you too.’

  With those words ringing in my ears, I put down the phone. I immediately felt 100 per cent better, and stronger. There was hope, after all.

  The next day, I stood outside my office at 9.30 a.m., steeling myself to go in. It was a warm July morn
ing, the branches of the trees were heavy with blooms, the air full of promise. It had been three weeks since I’d left but it might as well have been years. In that time, I had taken a giant leap into the unknown and been through every single emotion from elation to despondency as a result. Now I felt like a very different person to the one who had stood here nearly a month before.

  My eyes flicked left and right, instinctively checking the road for signs of Stuart’s car, fearful of a surprise ambush. He’s not here, I told myself. He doesn’t even know you’re back in the country. Right, time to face the music!

  ‘Hi,’ I greeted Hannah nervously when I got inside. ‘How have you been?’

  She just stopped and stared at me, the thousand-yard stare of a soldier who’d experienced the worst horrors of war. Finally, she sat back and shook her head ruefully.

  ‘How have I been?’ she repeated. ‘How have I been? Let’s see now. I’ve been shit, that’s how I’ve been. While you’ve been swanning around Europe for the best part of a month I’ve been looking after your family and my own and trying not to let either one fall apart. Oh yes, and I’ve been keeping the business going at the same time. So I’m fucking tired, fed up and bloody furious with you, Dawn! You’ve put me under a lot of pressure here and frankly I don’t think I deserve it at all.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Hannah,’ I said, truly apologetic. ‘I didn’t realize just how much Stuart would lean on you during all of this. I know it’s been a lot for you to cope with.’

  ‘You could have bloody guessed!’ she shouted. I’d never seen her so angry. ‘I mean, it was just so selfish of you to go off and leave me in the lurch like that. Who could I lean on during all of this? It’s been one flipping crisis after another.’

  ‘Is Stuart still at your place?’ I asked.

  ‘No, he’s gone home now.’ She paused. ‘He’s given me a list.’

  ‘What? What do you mean, “a list”?’

  Hannah sighed and opened the top drawer in her desk. She took out a handwritten sheet of A4 and handed it to me.

  ‘He says he doesn’t want to involve the lawyers. It’s a list of the properties he wants and a few personal possessions from the house. Oh yes, and the house, too. He says if you agree to the list he’ll grant the divorce.’

  I took the list, absolutely stunned. Stuart would agree to a divorce? My heart soared – this was better than I had hoped for. All those threats over the years and it just came down to this. I’d spent the past three weeks living in fear, but maybe, at the end of the day, my husband wasn’t quite as bad as I’d thought him to be. Maybe he did have an ounce of decency in him after all. Maybe, despite all his bluster, he was prepared to let me go.

  My eyes scanned the list. Quite reasonably, he was offering me our art collection and the villa in Portugal, plus the properties we had built up over the years together in the company we called Silverbridge. Basically, if he could have the properties in Mayfair Holdings, our Panamanian company, Glasgow and a few personal items like tables and chairs, then I could take the rest.

  Yes! I mentally punched the air. Yes yes yes! Absolutely. He could have everything he asked for. I mean, how much does a person need to live? I figured I would walk away with nearly £2 million in assets and he would take Mayfair, worth around £2.5 million. It was clean, fair and cost-effective. I couldn’t have dared hope for more.

  Now I grinned broadly at Hannah.

  ‘It’s fine. It’s all fine! Really. He can have everything on the list. Tell him that, Hannah. Tell him I agree. This way you can keep running my property business and we’ll all be okay.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been around,’ I went on, ‘but you’ve got to understand I needed to give him time to calm down and think things through. And, look, that’s exactly what he’s done. He’s come up with a reasonable, rational plan.’

  I held up the list: vindicated, triumphant, full of self-confidence.

  ‘This, this makes it all worth it, Hannah! He’s come to his senses and he doesn’t want to fight anymore!’

  PART V

  THE WARRIOR

  Chapter 25

  The Enemy Within

  Humming softly to myself I turned around in the shower, enjoying the sensual first touch of the scalding water on my body. It had been three months since my return from Cyprus and I was delighted that everything was going so well. I massaged some shampoo into my hair and mentally ran through a list of things I had to do that day. Meeting with the bank, lunch with a prospective buyer . . .

  Crash!

  What was that? I wondered for a moment. It sounded like Bryce had dropped a plate on the floor. He was always keen to get breakfast started early and was downstairs now laying the table for his kids and me. I relaxed under the water. He always made such an effort, I marvelled, with warm porridge, fresh fruit and local honey, not to mention wonderful artisan bread and . . .

  Suddenly, I heard a voice that made my whole body freeze up, despite the warmth of the shower. I strained to listen. It was . . . but, but . . . it couldn’t be!

  Below me, I had heard Stuart’s voice cutting angrily through the sunny day.

  Now I quickly turned off the shower and hopped out, throwing a towel around my body. It was definitely him! Stuart’s voice was shouting obscenities and getting louder and louder. What the hell is he doing here? There was no need for any contact between us. I’d seen him briefly in the office since I’d been back, and we were all making the best efforts to be civil and adult about the whole situation.

  Suddenly, I was consumed with fear for Bryce’s two children, and I marched out of the room and onto the landing where their bedrooms were. To my horror, I was met by the sight of Stuart running up the stairs with Bryce following closely on his heels. I had only a moment to notice that Bryce was bleeding from his right cheek.

  ‘You can’t go up there!’ Bryce was shouting desperately. ‘My children are up there!’

  ‘Where is she?’ Stuart ranted, now pushing open doors. ‘Where the fuck is she? Where’s Dawn? I’m fucking taking her home.’

  ‘THAT’S MY DAUGHTER’S ROOM!’ Bryce yelled. ‘DO NOT go in there!’

  ‘Stuart!’ Now I called to my husband from across the landing. ‘Stuart, go downstairs. We’re all going to go downstairs.’

  I spoke in a low, firm voice to try and calm this potentially incendiary situation. How had he found us? He must have followed me here: it was the only thing I could think of. Up to his old tricks again . . . I could see he was dressed all in black with black gloves on and his face was almost crimson with rage. He obviously meant business and my blood chilled in my veins.

  ‘Right, you!’ Stuart was jittery, agitated and I recognized the mood immediately – he was so angry, he was unhinged and at that moment I feared for my life. ‘Right, get your stuff, get your fucking stuff. You’re coming home now.’

  He whipped his head back to where he saw Bryce was coming up behind him: ‘Stay away, Bryce, if you know what’s good for you!’

  Now the kids – Nathan and his older sister Charlotte – had come out of their rooms, still in their pyjamas, and were staring at all of us in turn, but especially at this stranger in black who was swearing and snarling like a pit bull.

  ‘Kids, come down here!’ Bryce called to them and they scurried down the stairs to their father. I slowly followed after them, and eventually I noted that Stuart also came downstairs to the open-plan kitchen-living area. I stepped lightly in bare feet, my eyes moving swiftly to take in the scene: the hammer on the floor, the upended kitchen table and the porridge spattered all over the kitchen tiles, studded by the remains of the broken crockery.

  Once we were all downstairs I asked Bryce to take the kids to their rooms. I had no idea what Stuart would do next but I didn’t want to draw these innocent children in any further.

  ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Bryce said, breathing hard. He seemed not to notice there was an alarming amount of blood now pouring from his cheek. So I asked Nathan if h
e could get a cloth for his father’s face.

  ‘SHUT UP! Just shut up, all of you,’ Stuart cut in. ‘Right. Dawn, get your fucking stuff. You’re coming home with me.’

  ‘No, I’m not coming home with you, Stuart,’ I said, slow and firm. ‘I’ve left you. I’m with Bryce now.’

  ‘BRYCE!’ Stuart barked, his eyes still locked on mine. ‘Tell her she’s going home, if you know what’s good for you.’

  ‘I’m not saying anything,’ said Bryce steadily. ‘She has to make the decision for herself on where she wants to be.’

  For a while there was silence as we watched Stuart to see what he would do next. His eyes were darting from corner to corner and I felt my whole body tense as I tried to think ahead of him. My eyes kept returning to the hammer – I was closer and quicker than him. If he tries to grab it, I thought, I’ll get there first and I’ll hit him with it using all my strength. At that moment, I was quite prepared to kill him if I had to. If he left me no choice, I would bring that hammer down on him so hard he wouldn’t be able to get back up again.

  ‘You fucking LIED to me!’ he finally erupted. ‘This is all your fault. One minute everything’s fine and the next you’ve fucking left me!’

  He’s the one who’s lying, I thought. Lying to himself. Things had not been fine between us for a very, very long time – if ever.

  ‘I think you need to leave now, Stuart,’ I said. Then I repeated slowly: ‘I am not coming with you. I am no longer your possession. Please leave this house.’

  I just wanted to end this without any further bloodshed. I could see the danger was passing. Once I had stood up to him and refused to go home with him, once I had proved I wasn’t scared of him anymore, he was done.

  Still, he was full of bluster: ‘Just don’t think of calling the fucking police for this because you’ll be sorry. You’ll be fucking sorry if you call the police.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘We’re not going to call the police, Stuart – just please leave now.’