by Sue Horsford
“Yes, Sir,” I wept.
Again the cane hissed down.
“Owwww. Three, Sir.”
“And yet you deliberately disobeyed me and went to the house of a man who you knew to be violent, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Another stroke bit into my flesh and I moaned in pain.
“F-four, Sir.”
“A man who had already made several threats against you.”
“Yes, Sir. Five, Sir.”
“How am I supposed to keep you safe if you persist in disobeying me, Faye?” And he brought the cane down so hard that for a moment I couldn’t find the breath to speak.
“Six, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.” I was crying hard now and he stopped to give me a chance to recover. He’d promised me twelve strokes after last time. How was I going to take another six?
Suddenly, Gabriel set the cane down and helped me to my feet. He led me over to the armchair and sat, pulling me into his lap.
“You haven’t finished yet,” I sobbed.
“Yes, I have, sweetheart.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“Faye,” he said sharply. “What have I told you about arguing with me? I decide your punishments, not you. Now be quiet.”
“Yes, Gabriel.” I pressed my face into his chest, breathing in the smell of him for the last time while Gabriel stroked my hair, trying to soothe me. But I was beyond being soothed. Every moment with him now was agony. I needed to go, to make the break, but maybe just a few more minutes.
“Is everything all right, sweetheart?” he asked. “I’ve never seen you like this.”
I drew a shuddering breath. “Oh, it’s just such a lot’s happened lately. I’ll be okay.”
He kissed the top of my head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the reassurances you wanted.”
I forced myself to smile through my tears. “That’s okay. You can’t help the way you are.”
Regretfully, I got up from his lap and started to get dressed. “I have to go now.”
He gave me a puzzled frown. “Was that all you came for?”
I forced another smile. “No, it’s just that I’ve got a lot to do today.”
I phoned a taxi and told them I’d be waiting on the corner. I had to get out of there before I did something stupid like change my mind.
At the door I flung my arms around him. “I love you, Gabriel,” I said fiercely.
He hugged me back but said nothing.
On the way home I called in to see my mother. I told her I was leaving Paul. She didn’t seem surprised.
“I want to go away from here,” I said. “For a while, anyway. I don’t want Paul or Ginny contacting me so I’m changing the number on my phone. When I get the new number, I’ll ring you, then you can keep in touch. But I’m only giving the number to two people, you and Steph. If anyone else needs to contact me, they can do it through you.”
“Why don’t you want Ginny to contact you?” she asked. She gave me a shrewd look. “Has any of this got anything to do with the fact that she’s having Gabriel’s baby?”
“I don’t like what she’s done,” I said. “It’s not fair on Gabriel and I know she expects me to be supportive of her, but I just don’t have the energy to spare for Ginny’s dramas at the moment. Is that selfish of me?”
“Well, yes, but it’s about time you were selfish where Ginny’s concerned. Talking of Gabriel, I don’t suppose he ever got round to doing that photo of you, did he? It would be nice to have a picture of you if you’re not going to be around.”
I kept my expression neutral to hide the pain that ripped through me at the memory of our photo session. It was only three nights ago, but it already belonged to another time in my life.
“He did, actually, but he still has it, I’m afraid. If you really want it, I can give you his number.” Hastily, I scribbled his mobile number on a piece of paper for her.
“Now that’s odd,” she said.
“What is?”
“You know Gabriel’s number off by heart.”
My cheeks grew hot. “I don’t know where I’m going yet, but I’ll ring you when I get there.”
“Why not go to the cottage?”
A few years before my father died, he’d bought a weekend cottage in a small village in Derbyshire. In his will, he’d left his money divided equally between Ginny and me, the favoritism that had been so blatant during his life absent in death. But the cottage, he’d unaccountably left to my mother, a peace offering, perhaps, for never being the husband she’d wanted. She never stayed there but neither would she sell it, so, for the most part, it remained unlived in and unloved except for the odd occasion when Ginny fancied a weekend away. Paul and I had meant to go, but had never made the time, so there’d be no memories for me if I went there.
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”
I just had one more thing to do. I went home and took out the luxury writing paper my mother had bought me for my birthday two years ago and that I’d never used because I didn’t write letters anymore. Then I went up to my bedroom and began to write.
My darling Gabriel,
The reason I was so upset today was because I’d decided to end things between us. I know it’s cowardly to do this sort of thing by letter, but the truth is, if I’d told you face to face I’d have been praying you’d ask me to stay and I know you wouldn’t have. You’d just have wished me well and that would have been unbearable.
By the time you read this, I’ll have already left. I’m changing my phone number because I won’t be able to bear wondering if you’ll ever get in touch and this way I’ll know that’s not possible.
Things are just so complicated now, and maybe if you felt the same way about me as I do about you, we could have found a way through it all. But I know if I’d stayed, then sooner or later, you’d decide it was all too much trouble and you’d end it, and I can’t just sit around waiting for the blow to fall, all the while falling more and more in love with you every day.
I’m sure we’ll see each other again. I don’t know yet if I’ll come back here any time soon, but I still have my mother and my best friend here. I still have my sister, too, even though my feelings for her are confused at the moment. And no matter what your feelings are toward her, please think about playing some part in your child’s life. I can tell you all about not being loved by your father and the scars it leaves.
You told me not to leave Paul on your account. Well, I told him last night our marriage is over because I knew that, even if you didn’t tell me what I wanted to hear, I can’t go on living a lie. I didn’t tell him about you and you’ve no need to feel guilty. You didn’t break up my marriage, Gabriel. You just shone a light on the cracks. I did the rest.
Say goodbye to Barbara for me and tell her it was an honor to have known her. She’s so much stronger than I’ll ever be and I admire her more than I can say.
As for you, Gabriel, be happy, and know that whatever happens in the future, you’ll always be a part of me. You’ll always be my Master.
Your submissive girl,
Faye
Chapter Nineteen
I decided to avoid the motorway. The boredom would allow me too much space to think and I didn’t want to think right now. I didn’t want to dwell on what I’d done, on the people I’d hurt and on the man I’d left behind. So, instead, I drove down A roads and forgotten B roads, feeling at times that I was just wandering across country aimlessly, or maybe I was just putting off the inevitable. Maybe I just wanted to keep on running.
I arrived at the cottage just after two. I let myself in, put my bags down and looked around at my new home. I’d not been here for nearly two years, since Dad had died, when Ginny and I had come to sort through his stuff, but Ginny had been up here at Easter so the place was habitable enough.
It was hard to imagine Dad in this sweet little dolls’ house of a cottage. Downstairs, there were just two rooms, a living room and a kitchen, and between the two rooms a narro
w wooden staircase that led to a bathroom and a pretty bedroom with a beamed ceiling and a tiny casement window, through which one could look across the valley to the nearby hills.
I unpacked some of my things and hung them up in the old-fashioned wardrobe then, suddenly overwhelmed with the prospect of having nothing to do, I decided to wander down to the village store.
It was more of a delicatessen than a grocery store, with an impressive array of meats and huge wheels of smooth Gouda and creamy Stilton on display, but I couldn’t face food at the moment. My stomach was still churning at the thought of what I’d done. So, ignoring the curious looks of the shopkeeper at my white face and red-rimmed eyes, I bought just the bare essentials—bread, butter, milk, coffee and two bottles of red wine.
Back at the cottage, I didn’t know what to do with myself. It was strange being on my own, cut off from the rest of the world with not even the sound of passing traffic to distract me. But maybe this was what I needed, some space to figure out where I was going to go from here, what I was going to do with the rest of my life.
Right now, I couldn’t seem to think past wanting Gabriel. I wanted him more than I could ever remember wanting anything in my life and it was taking all my willpower just to stop myself from getting in my car, driving home to him and throwing myself at his feet.
I’d taken his letter to the post box last night, but when I got there, I hadn’t been able to bring myself to post it. It seemed too personal somehow to entrust to the Royal Mail, too precious to be shoved into a sack by a stranger then pushed through Gabriel’s door along with bank statements and invitations to switch to Sky.
So, very early this morning, I’d driven to his house and sneaked up the drive to post it through his door myself. The house had still been in darkness and for a moment, I’d stood there, envelope in my hand, looking up at his bedroom window.
Was he still asleep? Was he dreaming of me? What would he do if I threw a stone up at the window now? Would he come downstairs and take me back up to his still-warm bed? Was it possible to have just a few more hours with him? Hurriedly, before I’d been able to do anything stupid, I’d pushed the flap on the letter box and shoved the envelope through, being careful to let the flap close softly. Then I’d turned and ran back to my car.
Had he read the letter yet? Would he heave a sigh of relief that at least one complication was out of the way? Bile rose in my throat at the thought. Was this what it was like coming off drugs, this feeling of wanting something so badly you could think of nothing else, but having to resist it because you knew it would end up killing you?
Suddenly the room seemed to be closing in on me, suffocating me, and I opened the living room window and leaned out. As I gulped in huge lungfuls of cool air, the sweet almond-honey scent of meadowsweet came to me on the breeze and from somewhere nearby a chaffinch sang with the sheer joy of being alive. I leaned out farther. Down the lane on the village green a group of ramblers were sharing a packed lunch. It seemed wrong somehow. How could the rest of the world carry on with their lives as normal when mine would never be the same again?
I closed the window on the outside world and went up to bed where I fell down on top of the old-fashioned paisley print eiderdown and closed my eyes, praying that I would dream of him, that I would feel his arms around me once more.
The little clock on the bedside table said half past six. I dragged myself up, went downstairs and poured myself a large glass of wine, downing it in one gulp. It tasted dry and harsh, but almost immediately I felt a little better, less in touch with my sorrow. I poured myself another glass and wandered over to the CD player.
My dad’s CDs were stacked in neat piles on the table next to the player and I looked through them for something that would be in tune with the way I felt, something to provide a soundtrack to my pain. My dad’s musical tastes weren’t mine, mostly 70s soft rock, but then I noticed a CD called Opera Classics and I put it on, wondering whether I’d like it just because I knew Gabriel would.
As I listened to the first few bars of the first track, I was surprised at how sweet and beautiful it sounded. I picked up the cover to see what it was called—Oh, My Beloved Father. How apt to be listening to this here. I sipped my wine this time and, as the music filled the room, the tears came again, hot and miserable, scourging my already puffy eyes.
I was trying to come to terms with what I’d done, trying to maintain some sort of equilibrium, but my longing for Gabriel kept hitting me anew like a fresh physical pain, a huge, aching emptiness that was growing by the second.
Someone knocked at the door.
“Fuck off,” I said under my breath.
Ginny had told me once that the people in the cottage next door always knocked to say hello, which was nice of them, but I really didn’t feel up to seeing anyone just yet.
I put down my glass—best not to let them see I was getting drunk this early in the evening—and drew the back of my hand across my eyes to wipe away the tears. Then I opened the door, a fake smile painted on my face, to see the man I loved standing there on the step.
The smile died on my lips and, for a long moment, I just stared at him. Was I still asleep? Was this the dream I’d been hoping for? I didn’t dare speak. All I could do was stand there, staring, gorging myself on the sight of him. If this was a dream, then let it go on forever, let me never wake up to a world without him.
“Are you going to let me in, sweetheart?” His face wore an expression I’d never seen before—uncertainty, perhaps.
I took a step backward and he came inside, closing the door behind him. I still hadn’t spoken and Gabriel frowned.
“Faye, sweetheart, are you all right?”
“How… How did you…?” The words seemed to congeal in my throat, threatening to choke me, then suddenly I was sobbing and Gabriel’s arms were around me, holding me up.
He led me over to the couch and sat, pulling me onto his lap where I kept on sobbing, my face pressed into his chest, until Gabriel said sharply, “Faye, stop this right now.”
His tone startled me and, in surprise, I stopped crying and lifted my head to look at him.
“Have you been drinking?” he asked me.
I nodded.
“Pardon?”
“Yes.”
He tilted up my chin and looked me in the eye, sternly, but with a twinkle. “Yes what?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Go and wash your face and we’ll talk.”
Obediently, I traipsed upstairs to the bathroom, moving like an automaton, my eyes seeing nothing, dazed from the grief of the last couple of days and from the shock of seeing him again. My mind couldn’t begin to comprehend what was going on. All I could do now was obey his orders.
I came downstairs to find Gabriel in the kitchen looking disapprovingly through my cupboards. Two cups of coffee stood on the kitchen table. “Have you eaten?”
“I wasn’t hungry.”
He shook his head in exasperation and sat at the table. “Drink this coffee, then we’ll go and get dinner. Sit down.”
Meekly, I obeyed him, still moving like a zombie.
“Your mother told me where you were,” he said in answer to my unspoken question. “She phoned me this afternoon and asked me to bring your photo round. She said she needed to speak to me about something.”
“About the baby,” I interrupted, remembering why Gabriel and I could no longer be together.
“Well, that’s what I thought, too. But when I got there, she came straight out and asked me if I was the reason you’d left.”
I gaped at him and he gave a wry smile.
“Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction, too. Very astute woman, your mother. Anyway, before I had a chance to think of an answer, she told me not to bother denying it. She’d known about us for a while.”
I shook my head. “There’s no way she could have known.”
“Well, she did. She said she knew something was going on when she saw the way we were with each other tha
t day in Liverpool.”
“But nothing was going on at that point,” I said.
“Come on, Faye. There’s been something going on between us since the moment I walked through your front door, and you know it.” For a moment, there was a look in his eyes I’d never seen before, then he seemed to collect himself. “Anyway, your mum said you seemed flustered all throughout our lunch together. Then she said afterwards, every time my name was mentioned, you went red.”
“That explains some of her comments,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean we were actually doing anything.”
“Well yes, she did think at first that you just fancied me.” He grinned and I smiled back at him.
I was beginning to relax now, although I still couldn’t take my eyes from his face, scared he might disappear just as suddenly as he’d appeared.
“Fancied doesn’t begin to describe the way I was feeling about you, Gabriel. So what convinced her it was more than that?”
“Well, she wondered why you’d leave Paul at the same time as you found out about the pregnancy. She said you’d always been there for Ginny, so why not now, when she really needed you? But what clinched it for her was that you knew my phone number. She said she could never remember yours or Ginny’s mobile numbers, so why on earth would you remember your sister’s ex-boyfriend’s number?”
I shook my head in wonderment. Obviously, I’d underestimated my mother. But what would she think of me now? “Was she very angry?” I said.
“No, actually, considering the havoc I’ve managed to wreak in both her daughters’ lives, she was very pleasant. She said she wasn’t about to sit in judgment. All she wanted to know was what I planned to do now.”
“And what did you say?”
“Well, I told her I intended to support my child financially and I’d be a father to him or her, but I had no intention of rekindling anything with Ginny. Then I told her my main priority right now was to find you and tell you how I felt.”
My heart seemed to come to an abrupt stop. “How you felt?” I repeated.
“Yes.” Again that uncomfortable, unsure expression.