by Lucy Diamond
‘Go on, then,’ I said. ‘But I know already that this is where I want to be. It’s perfect, Shelley. Perfect!’
She laughed too. ‘Oh, babe, really? That’s fab!’ She nudged me as we stood there in the dusty, echoing room. ‘Ahhh, it’s gonna be great, this. I’m dead proud of you, you know.’
I gave her a hug. ‘Thanks, hon,’ I said. ‘And thanks for finding me this place. It’s exactly what I wanted: great location, lovely size – and I can’t believe it’s above a hairdresser’s too! I’ve got a whole client base right there on the doorstep.’
‘Come on, let me show you the rest,’ Shelley said, leading me through. She took me to a little galley kitchen where you could just about swing a kitten, provided it tucked its tail in, and then there was a smaller second room with a single sash window and a dinky cast-iron fireplace. ‘Like I said, you could use this as another treatment room, or office space to store your paperwork, or … well, whatever.’
‘I love it,’ I said, walking over to look out of the window, feeling giddy with excitement as I gazed down at the shoppers meandering along on the main street outside. Potential customers, all of them. Roll up, roll up! Who’s going to be first to Jessica’s Beauty Bar? ‘I’ll take it. When can I sign on the dotted line?’
Shelley smiled at me. ‘You’ve got very impetuous all of a sudden, Miss Jess,’ she said. ‘If you’re sure you want it, you can come back to the office and sign the contract right now. The landlord wants a minimum twelve-month lease, though, so you have to be really certain …’
I thought about it. Come on, Jess. Be professional. You can’t say yes just because you’ve got a good feeling about the place. And you have to be able to pay the rent for a whole year – that’s quite a commitment …
I nodded. ‘That’s fine,’ I said with a sudden surge of bravery. Business was all about taking calculated risks, wasn’t it? That was what Alan Sugar always said on The Apprentice between finger-pointing and firing wannabes. And yes, I could give in to doubts, I could let myself be scared off by the unknown and never have the bottle to take the plunge. Alternatively, I could throw the dice and see what happened.
‘Let’s do it,’ I said.
It was only after I’d signed the contract and been given two sets of keys that it dawned on me: I hadn’t actually told Charlie about my plan. My own fiancé, and I hadn’t even consulted him on the idea, let alone thought to inform him that, by the way, I’d be taking on my own business premises. I’d told my mates, of course – Shelley and the girls, Lauren and Maddie. I’d talked at length to all of them about it, and Shelley had been keeping an eye out for something suitable for a few weeks now. But somehow or other I’d managed to keep it from Charlie.
I didn’t want to be secretive about my work, don’t get me wrong. I would have told him like a shot if I’d thought for a minute he’d be encouraging, tell me to go for it, join me for property viewings. But I knew he’d do no such thing. I knew he’d sneer at the idea, tell me I was getting above myself and that half of all small businesses failed within the first year, didn’t I know that yet?
I hadn’t wanted to be shot down in flames. Who would? I was enjoying flying, feeling more confident by the day as my phone rang again and again with new bookings. I’d even had to buy a big new diary so that I could fit in all my appointments. I was loving running my own beauty business – I felt in control of something for the first time in years. I didn’t want Charlie to spoil that.
I was also, I had to admit, thinking seriously about the future with Charlie. It had taken me a long time to acknowledge as much, but the awful fact was, I didn’t love him any more. I just didn’t. I dreaded him coming home at night in case he was in a bad mood and I’d have to walk on eggshells the whole evening. In the early days, I’d felt in awe of him – tall, handsome Charlie with his dark, brooding looks – but lately I’d only noticed the cruelty in his eyes, the thin lips, the way the muscles twitched in his cheek when he was angry.
And do you know what? I didn’t want to be with him any more. Ever since the lunch date I’d had with Matt, his words had reverberated around my head. You’re a lovely, lovely person, Jess, and you deserve to be treated like a princess. You deserve someone who’ll love you and appreciate you and make you feel special. And that’s what I would do.
A princess. That would be nice. Every now and then I fantasized about being treated like a princess instead of a doormat. But not for too long. It always made me feel sad, hollow inside, as if I’d got my life all wrong.
I was going to sort it out, though. The new feisty Jess, with her own beautician’s premises and her busy business diary. She deserved better. She deserved some love and appreciation, and maybe, just maybe, a spot of princessery. Because I didn’t want to go on like this any more, living a lie, scared of the person I shared a bed with. That wasn’t good, was it? That wasn’t right. I had to make some changes.
A few days later, when I got home, I looked around our flat as if seeing it for the first time and tried to imagine how I’d feel about walking out of it for good. My eye fell on the cushions I’d chosen from Matalan, the nice smelly candles I’d bought on the mantelpiece, the framed prints on the wall. I hardened myself. They were only things. They were replaceable. If push came to shove, I didn’t need any of them. No, the problem wasn’t going to be possessions. It was going to be Charlie.
He would go mad, I knew it, if I said it was over between us. He would hurl abuse at me, possibly hit me. He might even push me out onto the street, there and then. I had to be prepared for all of that. I had to brace myself for his anger. But I had two extra sets of keys in my handbag now. Keys to my own place. And what I hadn’t told Shelley was that I reckoned the second smaller room would do me just fine as a little bedroom. I could be a single girl again, in my own pad: buy myself some more smelly candles and a whole new set of arty prints, do what I pleased. That would be all right, wouldn’t it? Lauren seemed to manage pretty well on her own. I could too, I reckoned. Now I just had to tell Charlie that I was leaving.
I must admit, I was scared of breaking the news. He was so unpredictable that all bets were off when it came to anticipating his reaction. I’d seriously considered asking my dad to be there with me, to help me make the break, or Shelley and the girls even, just somebody for protection in case Charlie went completely mental.
But that felt cowardly, as if I couldn’t stand on my own two feet and be properly independent. And independence was what I was really after here, so asking someone to hold my hand seemed wrong. No, I would go it alone, I would be woman enough to make a stand. That wasn’t to say I hadn’t made careful plans for my getaway, though. I had. Over the last few days, I’d packed up a suitcase of my clothes and bagged up some other favourite things I simply couldn’t do without – photos, jewellery, presents people had given me – and secretly sneaked them into the boot of my car.
As soon as I’d got the keys to my new place, I’d driven over to unload my bags and case there. Walking through the door had felt like coming home – this was my space, where I’d live and work, where nobody would insult me or put me down. I could watch America’s Next Top Model without any sarcastic remarks (‘What are you watching that for? You’re not exactly a contender’), I could eat a piece of cut-price cheesecake without being told off for it, I could go to bed without anyone forcing themselves upon me. I could be me, Jessica Linley.
I’d pushed open the windows to let the fresh air stream in and smiled. Oh yes.
Now that I was back at the flat I’d shared with Charlie for so long, a huge to-do list was forming in my mind, obstacles and problems rearing up one after another. I’d have to buy or borrow something to sleep on, I’d need to get my post redirected, make sure my name was off all the bills here, buy a fridge and saucepans and a telly … Panic rushed up inside me at the thought of so much organizing, and I had to take a deep breath and remind myself I could do it. I would do it.
Then I heard Charlie’s key in the door an
d had to take another, even deeper breath. Oh God. I was dreading this. I wasn’t sure I could do it. I wondered fleetingly if it would have been more sensible to leave him a note and do a flit while he was at work one day. Yes – why hadn’t I thought of that? That would have been much easier!
Such an act was cowardly too, though. Doing a flit was lame. I’d wanted to marry Charlie not so very long ago; surely the least I could do was tell him to his face that I was leaving. Maybe tomorrow, though. Maybe I should at least get myself a bed sorted out at the new place before I did anything rash …
I stood up slowly from where I’d been perched on the sofa, waiting as I heard him take his coat off and hang it in the hall, then swear as he saw the gas bill that had arrived.
I could predict how the evening would pan out if I stayed. He’d sulk that I hadn’t already got his tea ready, he’d drink a few beers in quick succession and become aggressive, take his bad mood out on me, then he’d probably force me to have sex with him, his breath hot and beery, his fingers hard and bruising …
No. Decision made. How the hell had I stood evenings like that for so long, anyway?
He’s not good for you, this man, I heard Susan the clairvoyant’s voice in my head. You need to get away from him.
She’d been right all along, hadn’t she? About my gran shaking her fist and being angry with Charlie for bullying me, and everything else. I looked up at the ceiling, my hands squeezed together. ‘Don’t worry, Gran,’ I whispered. ‘I’m walking away. No more bullying.’
Then I glanced around the room one more time – goodbye cushions, goodbye candles, goodbye pictures – and tried to summon up every bit of strength I had inside me. I thought of my friends, who’d be cheering me on if they knew what I was about to do. I thought of my clients, who saw me as a professional woman, not a victim. They’d be shocked if they had any idea what I’d been putting up with for all this time. Then I thought of my new business premises, the empty rooms, my very own refuge and new start, just waiting for me to come back.
All of those things gave me courage. So when Charlie walked into the room, I just came out with it straight.
‘Charlie, I don’t think this is working any more,’ I said, trying not to let my voice shake. I was also careful not to start apologizing, not to blame myself. Because the only thing I’d been guilty of was not sticking up for myself sooner. ‘I think it’s time I moved out.’
There. I’d said it. The words were spoken, I’d released them into the room. The blood thrummed around me as I waited for his response.
He stared at me, disbelieving, then his mouth twisted into a sneer. ‘You what?’ he said, in that deadly-soft way he had. Uh-oh. I knew that tone of voice, and it spelled trouble.
Deep breath, Jess. Don’t let him scare you.
‘I don’t think we make each other happy any more,’ I said haltingly. ‘It’s over.’
My heart was galloping so fast, it was painful. I wished I had my dad close by, someone on my side to put his arm around me, protect me from the fury that was bristling all over Charlie like an electric charge.
His eyes narrowed and he took a step closer. I tried not to flinch.
‘What, so you’re finishing with me?’ he said, and laughed, a horrible contemptuous laugh. ‘You’ve got to be kidding. You think you’re too good for me, all of a sudden, is that it?’ The scorn rang from his voice. ‘Don’t make me laugh. Don’t make me fucking laugh.’
I said nothing. Fear gripped me, and I felt really scared of him, really scared of what was going to happen.
‘You make me sick,’ he said. ‘You’re pathetic. Do you really think that you can say … ?’ A strange look flickered across his face and then he turned on me. ‘Oh, I get it,’ he spat. ‘Dropping your knickers for someone else, are you? Ahhh, that’s what this is all about. I should have known. You slut. Who is it, then, this new bloke? What’s his name?’
I shook my head. ‘You’ve got it wrong,’ I said quietly. I could feel my confidence deserting me. I was beginning to wish I’d never started this now. Wished I’d had his tea on the table instead of hatching my mad plots to leave. Who was I trying to kid? It wasn’t going to work. All that would happen was that he’d be even angrier than usual. He’d explode.
‘Oh, have I now? Wrong? I don’t think so.’ Flecks of spit were shooting from his mouth as he spoke, his body was taut with rage. ‘You’re the one who’s wrong. Thinking you can slag it about behind my back and—’
Something strange happened then. From out of nowhere, this anger boiled up in me at the way he said ‘slag’. How dare he, I thought. How dare he accuse me of that, when I’ve been the most loyal, the most tolerant, the most loving girlfriend he could ever have wanted. And then, before I knew it, the words were pouring out.
‘Just a minute,’ I snapped. ‘You can stop right there. I haven’t been seeing anyone behind your back, actually. This is not about me being unfaithful to you – because I haven’t been, and never would have been, either. Never. I’m not like that, and you of all people should know it.’
To my surprise he was silenced by my outburst. Emboldened, I went on.
‘This is about you, and the way you’ve treated me. You’ve bullied me, you’ve insulted me, you’ve pushed me around for too long – and do you know what? I’ve had enough. Nobody else treats me like that, and I’m not putting up with it from you any more. I deserve better. So … so goodbye, Charlie. I’m leaving now.’
I made a move to walk past him, and a second went by while he just stared at me. Then he grabbed my hand – not in a bruising, aggressive way, more in shock.
‘Wait! Jess – you can’t just go like that!’
I felt like a bitch – he seemed genuinely alarmed – but I removed my fingers from his grasp. ‘I can,’ I said. ‘You just watch me go.’
‘But … But … what about me?’ he cried. His voice was pleading, his expression stricken, and for the first time ever in the entire history of our relationship, I felt as if I had the upper hand. Whoa. Head-rush. ‘What about … what about the wedding?’ he said, almost desperately.
There was a flicker – just a flicker – of pity inside me at the look on his face, but I had a sudden vision of Shelley and the others rallying behind me. Don’t take any shit from him! Don’t back down now!
I shook my head, extinguishing the pity, and steeled myself against him.
‘There’s not going to be any wedding, Charlie,’ I said quietly, then looked him square in the eye. ‘It’s over, okay?’
The moment I was past him and heading for the door, he turned again, this time from nice guy back into the bully.
‘Well, fuck you, then,’ he yelled. ‘You’ll never get anyone as good as me. You’re nothing without me, Jess. Nothing – just a fat, ugly loser. And I never loved you either, you know. Never. And you’re crap in bed. Boring as hell. And—’
I slammed the front door behind me, cringing at his words. Don’t listen. Ignore him. Just trying to hurt you, as usual.
Well, I refuse to let you hurt me any more, I said under my breath. Say what you like, mate. I’m not listening.
Then I got into my car and drove away. I’d done it. I had bloody done it. I was free.
‘Oh my God! Good for you, girl! I’m so proud of you!’
Maddie threw her arms around me as soon as I’d finished telling her and Lauren about it. It was a Monday night and we were in the Feathers for our usual drink, and for once I wasn’t clock-watching and worrying about dashing back to Charlie.
‘I never thought he sounded good enough for you,’ she said, then flushed. ‘Sorry. Completely tactless way to react, but … you deserve better than him, Jess, you truly do.’
‘I’ll second that,’ Lauren said, hugging me as well. ‘Jess, that must have taken real guts. You’re a legend – well done. And if you need somewhere to stay, just say the word. You’re welcome at mine any time.’
‘Well, I’ve gone and got myself a flat, actually,’ I said, blu
shing at how dynamic and go-getting I sounded all of a sudden (me!). I explained about my new place. ‘I mean, it needs some work, and I haven’t actually got any furniture – I left it all at Charlie’s, so I’m camping out a bit at the moment – but—’
Maddie grabbed my hand. ‘Jess – I’ve got loads of stuff you can have,’ she interrupted. ‘I’ve been clearing out Mum’s house. There are all sorts of things you can take – kitchen stuff, furniture, her telly …’ She was beaming. ‘I’d much rather give it to you than pack it all off to the charity shop.’
I gaped, startled at her generosity. ‘Are you sure? Maddie, that’s very kind but—’
‘Absolutely sure,’ she said. ‘Honestly, Jess. I’ve taken a few special things but I don’t need the rest.’ She smiled. ‘I’d like it to go to you. And she would like that too. Let’s sort out a time when you can come round and help yourself.’
I kept saying, ‘Really?’ and she kept saying ‘Yes!’ until I was finally able to believe it.
‘You are so kind,’ I said. ‘You really are. Thank you.’
Lauren went to the bar while we made arrangements, and came back with a bottle of cava and three champagne flutes.
‘Look, I know Alison would have a fit if she could see this but, girls, we’ve totally earned it,’ she said. ‘We’ve weathered all sorts of storms between us, and we’ve come out fighting time and again. Go, us!’
‘Yay!’ I laughed. ‘Go, us!’
She winked and popped the cork. ‘Anyway, we’re all doing so well with our diets, I think we’re due a treat,’ she went on. ‘I’m actually thinking of stopping going to FatBusters now. I’m down to my target weight thanks to all the salsa dancing and being arsed to cook for myself rather than scoff takeaways 24/7. Besides … a bit of what you fancy does you good, right?’
‘Right,’ Maddie and I chorused.
I’d lost loads of weight too. In fact, the size fourteen beautician’s top I’d bought was already too big. Me, tubby Jess, a size twelve! It was unbelievable, something I would have killed for a year ago. The funny thing was, it didn’t seem the be-all-and-end-all now, being able to fit into nice jeans and clingy tops, though I did feel much more confident. But surely that was down to the security of good friendships and the satisfaction of running my own business, rather than what the scales said? Maybe that was where I’d been going wrong all along – blaming my fat bum for my misery rather than facing up to my life.