Pretenders. The

by Zaza, Agatha

  ‘Could you move over a little,’ Ovidia had said to Jasper, glancing at him.

  Jasper’s date was named Claire. And he hadn’t seen her since. She’d had a dark pixie cut, but he remembered very little else about her. He’d pressed a bit closer to Ovidia, unintentionally — but she seemed oblivious to him — while Claire asked about his work. Jasper could hear snatches of Ovidia’s conversation but not all. Ovidia had said something about a man trying to grab her as she’d left her office, which elicited gasps from her audience of four.

  ‘Last week?’ Gemma had said. ‘Oh, I haven’t seen you since. You could have called.’

  Pressed against Ovidia, Jasper couldn’t study her without seeming overfamiliar. From the corner of his eye, he could see that she talked with her hands in her lap, that traces of make-up emphasised her eyes and lips.

  ‘Oh god! But, what’s that got to do with today?’ Heath had asked.

  ‘So the police came around to my office this afternoon saying they were following up on my report. From what I could wrestle out of them, the same guy raped and nearly killed a woman in the next building,’ Ovidia had explained.

  Jasper and Claire had joined the chorus of horror, and Jasper took the opportunity to join the others in conversation.

  Ovidia had shrugged. Then she had looked, but only for a moment, as if she was about to cry.

  ‘Where’s the bloody waiter?’ Gemma had demanded, swivelling in her seat as best as she could.

  Heath had taken Ovidia’s hand. ‘But you’re okay, hun? He didn’t … do anything to you?’

  ‘No,’ Ovidia had taken deep breaths. ‘A couple of bruises, but nothing serious. I’m just so mad. If the police had listened to me …’

  ‘The bastards,’ Gemma had breathed.

  ‘But, of course, black woman makes a complaint about an assault — minor assault — of course no one’s interested.’

  ‘Oh Ovidia, that’s not true …’ Claire had said, indignant. ‘The police don’t take any woman seriously. It’s not race that’s the issue.’

  The others had glared at her.

  ‘I just really want to hit someone.’ Ovidia had been agitated but didn’t cry. ‘The police, the idiot himself. I’ve lived in this city all my life. I’ve worked at that office for years. How do I just go about my business? How do I return to normal life? I’m scared all the time now.’

  Heath had hugged her, being the only person, apart from Jasper, who could reach her. ‘Sorry, I’ve nothing constructive to say, so I’ll just cuddle and pay for drinks.’

  ‘Free drinks!’ Ovidia had tried to joke. ‘I should get nearly murdered more often.’

  ‘Good girl,’ Gemma had said. ‘It’s over now.’

  The physical sensation of being seated against her had been surprisingly unnerving. He’d felt her every move, and when she’d extricated herself from their confined seating arrangement to go to the ladies, she’d momentarily lost her balance and seized his shoulder to stop herself from falling.

  The extra space had afforded them a chance to relax, but he’d felt exposed, wanting her back against him.

  ‘Try to be a little less obvious.’ Gemma had leaned towards him. ‘Your date looks as if she’s about to storm out — and,’ she’d looked around, ‘you look like you wouldn’t give chase.’

  Jasper had realised he’d been keeping turned away from Claire as his attention had been focused on Ovidia since she’d described the attack. He’d grimaced. ‘I have no defence,’ he’d whispered back. ‘I feel like a bit of an arse. Claire must be having an awful evening.’ He’d given a last furtive whisper as Ovidia returned. ‘I can’t help it.’ And the two of them had moved apart.

  When they’d finished their meal and were standing outside the restaurant talking about what to do next, Jasper had immediately gone to her. Bold, as he was those days, unafraid.

  ‘It must have been absolutely terrifying,’ he had said. ‘I might sound patronising, but you did pretty well coming out tonight. Much braver than I would be.’

  She’d squinted at him, as if trying to place him, considering his finer details. “Really? What would you do in my situation?”

  He’d thought for a moment, pushing his hands into his pocket. ‘Hide. Go round to my mum and dad’s? Anywhere but to meet a bunch of people in a restaurant down a dark alley.’

  He’d seen a flicker of a smile. Standing, she’d still had to look up at him even in her heels.

  ‘There are far more dangerous places than London, and people don’t lock themselves up in their homes.’

  Her eyes had been bright. He’d thought with excitement rather than alcohol. He’d opened his mouth to invite her out.

  ‘Guys, pub!’ Gemma had called. ‘There’s a brilliant one down here, was in a mag last week.’

  ‘Do we have to hang out the windows like last time?’ Ovidia had turned to follow her.

  Heath had elbowed him. ‘You haven’t even got rid of Claire and you’re lining up the next one? I wish I had your confidence.’

  ‘Where on earth did you find her? She’s amazing.’ The two of them had started after the others.

  ‘That vintage shop my sister runs. She had a friends and family sale. Believe it or not, Ovidia’s a regular.’

  ‘She’s electric,’ Jasper had said. ‘Is she with anyone?’

  ‘Not that I know of. She’s been single for a while.’

  ‘Give me her number.’

  ‘Ask her yourself,’ Heath had replied.

  ‘She’s just found out that she could have been raped and murdered — I’ll give her a day or two.’

  This was a night out in London. This is why they lived here, enduring maddening delays on the trains, endless waits for buses, flipping through pages reading the latest horrible knife crime. This summer night full of people out enjoying themselves, friends guffawing in laughter, lovers in embrace.

  In the pub, Gemma had waved her glass dangerously close to his white tee-shirt, a nonsensical logo splashed across it designed by a London graphic designer. ‘Has he told you that his brother’s loaded and buys absolutely everything for him?’ She had been addressing Claire, but Ovidia was right next to her.

  For the first time, Jasper was embarrassed about Edmund’s generosity. He hadn’t wanted Ovidia to think him a wastrel living off others. ‘He doesn’t. He’s just offered to cover my deposit.’ He’d glared at Gemma, who made a playful face.

  ‘Great brother,’ Ovidia had replied. ‘Can I have him? My sister’s moved back in with our parents while she’s saving. I’d rather die than move back in with my parents.’

  ‘I’d move in with your parents in an instant — I adore them.’ Gemma had squeezed her.

  Ovidia had smiled. He had been pleased she approved.

  Jasper had waited until the next morning, and then, unable to contain himself any longer, he’d called her.

  He rarely allowed himself to think of the bliss of those first few months. When he tried, a sense of foreboding, a terror, dread, would rise in him, because he knew the future. He knew how her girlish whispers upon crawling in between their newly purchased sheets had become the whispered cursing, the accusations and rants that she unleashed as they stood apart, facing the bed that he dreaded getting into each night. He knew the playful slap on his bare arm as she swatted at a mosquito in Mersing as they overlooked the ocean had become a punch, the first time in his life that he’d been hit outside of a school playground.

  Even when he did allow himself to think about it, clenching his fists in anticipation of the blows, he could never really remember when it first started.

  But he supposed it began with words.

  ‘You’ve got no idea, have you?’ she’d said one Friday evening as the clock ticked towards midnight. She had spent hours calculating and recalculating what, to him, appeared to be gibberish. She’d said there was an error in her proposal and her deadline was that Monday.

  He’d asked about a bank-holiday trip they had planned.

/>   ‘It’s not as if I just play about with pictures,’ she’d said, of his work.

  She’d said previously how cool it would be to be artistically inclined like he was, how exciting his office was and the people that he got to worth with. He’d blushed at her praise — but later, when she’d left him, he imagined she’d been grooming him for disaster, lifting him on to a pedestal so that the fall was farther, harder, and would hurt much more.

  He’d shaken his head at her comment, saying to himself that she was under pressure. A lot of money had been invested in her proposal. Her future as a civil engineer would be elevated and she would move up the professional ladder.

  He recalled another time. The two of them were returning from his parents’ house. Ovidia was driving.

  ‘They’re racist,’ she’d said, speeding up as a light turned green and a row of new builds dissolved into bland, outdated apartments on one side and old terraces on the other.

  ‘Who are?’ Jasper had said.

  ‘Your parents, who else?’

  She’d said it as if it were a matter of fact, something that was not up for discussion.

  He’d jerked up, suddenly alert, annoyed on her behalf. ‘What? Did they do something? What did they say?’ Incredulous. His parents.

  ‘Don’t pretend you didn’t see it. The way they looked at me. The silly questions they asked. Your dad had the balls to ask me where I got my degree.’

  ‘He asks anyone I date that.’ Jasper had settled back down into the seat. ‘He’s sizing you up, picking up the best bits to show off about at his book club: “My daughter-in-law is prettier and smarter than yours.”’

  She’d shaken her head. ‘You’re determined to believe I’m stupid.’

  They’d slowed for roadworks and had come to a halt, waiting for the light to change. In the near darkness, he’d watched her hands resting on the steering wheel. He remembered she’d had her nails and hair done in anticipation of that evening. Her fingers had flexed and straightened, flexed and straightened. The lights had changed and she’d sworn quietly as she sped up. They’d sat in silence as they completed their journey home.

  When she’d hit him that night, there had been no apologies, no promises. In bed, he’d contemplated what had happened and told himself it would never happen again.

  ‘About … us,’ Jasper hesitated, the smell of pizza making his stomach lurch.

  ‘Please let’s not talk about this. I don’t think I can.’ She wrapped her arms around herself. ‘Not today.’ She looked back at the pizza boxes.

  ‘What about Edmund?’ Jasper insisted. ‘He has the right to know about us.’

  ‘Edmund?’ she asked, breathing in, still not looking at him. ‘He knows all about us.’

  ‘What do you mean “he knows”?’

  ‘He found out while I was still with you. That’s how we really met.’ Ovidia stroked the counter. ‘Edmund turned up on my doorstep and told me I had to leave you alone, or he’d make sure I left you alone,’ she explained, her eyes nearly closed as she outlined the story of how she met Edmund. ‘I don’t think I believed him. But something in me clicked. I think.’

  Jasper balled and unfurled his fists.

  ‘He’d figured out what I was doing to you. I guess he saw the state you were in and put two and two together. I threatened to call the police. He just turned away and repeated that I should leave you alone.’

  ‘He knew all that time!’ Jasper repeated. His disbelief began to turn to anger.

  ‘I’m glad he did. I might not have left you if he hadn’t done something. He saved you from me.’

  They were both silent.

  ‘I wanted to find you, call you or something, but …’ She shook her head. ‘I had no idea where to start. I’m not being callous … sorry.’

  There was a silence.

  Jasper turned to leave, to return to the annex, to return to Holly.

  ‘That night, later, I saw that I’d become a monster,’ Ovidia continued.

  The distant, nervous stranger reappeared in front of him.

  ‘So many times, I’ve been dressed, ready to come and find you, but what was I going to say? I’ve never understood what happened. I’ve always been normal — I don’t even know people like that … like me. When I left you, I tried all sorts of things, therapy, books. There was just nothing for women like I was.’ She stopped for air. ‘Then I found running and … I bought a flat. It was hard, but I had to remember the person I had been. I thought, when I find the words, I’ll go and explain it to him — apologise. But I’ve never found them. Then I met — again — Edmund. And I started to believe that I could be a decent human being again.’

  ‘And you’ve had an affair with him for four years?’ Jasper asked.

  Ovidia paused for a moment. ‘It’s not an affair. We, well, I just couldn’t find a way to tell you. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’ve been happy.’

  He snorted. ‘What about me?’

  ‘Knowing that you had to find out was the one thing that kept me from being completely happy.’ She sighed. He saw her clutch the counter. ‘Maybe we could talk another time, I can’t …’ she stopped.

  For a moment, something about her distress made him glad, but the feeling didn’t last. Her remorse was insufficient, but there was nothing else he could hope or ask for. He waited, but she stood with her eyes closed once again, this time tightly shut, as if she was blocking tears from running.

  ‘You never came back, not even to even find out what I did with your stuff?’ he asked quietly. Jasper had broken a lot of it and shredded her clothes with a sharp pair of scissors. He’d swept her books off the shelves onto the floor and pulled up her rugs. Anything that survived the first month of his rage and unhappiness, he’d carted off to a recycling centre in a rented van.

  ‘There was nothing there I wanted, even if it was everything I owned. I needed a clean break from you and, well, Edmund did threaten me if …’ she stopped.

  23

  What if I’m wrong? Edmund had questioned himself over and over before making his decision.

  What if he was right, and did nothing?

  The previous night Edmund had finally confirmed what he’d suspected for months. There, just beneath Jasper’s collar, the browns and blues of new and old bruising.

  Edmund had long ago stopped asking about Ovidia, but Jasper had kept on telling him about her. What he said about her had changed though. Now he stated facts: ‘Ovidia got a promotion,’ ‘Ovidia bought a new rug,’ ‘Ovidia says I should try a different line of work.’

  Ovidia was no longer ‘perfect’, ‘amazing’, or ‘the one I want to be with for the rest of my life’. The spark in Jasper’s eye when he talked about her had died. It was obvious he was not happy, though he insisted he was.

  Now there was an emptiness, a lack of expression in his tired gaze. Edmund had asked him time and again what was wrong.

  ‘Nothing.’ Jasper had brushed him off the evening before, as the two of them had an early dinner. Jasper had been eating a grilled steak that he said he didn’t think much of, especially not at that price. Yet when the waiter had arrived, Jasper said nothing, being almost apologetic when Edmund prompted him to complain.

  Edmund had sat wondering what he was supposed to say or do about the situation. His brother had changed — unable to protest to a waiter about overcooked meat, his eyes flitting across the room from person to person as he chewed. Jasper had given up his flat and was living with Ovidia. From what Jasper had told, all his own belongings were in storage. He’d taken only his clothes and the things he needed at hand with him. His explanation had been that it was until they could get a place that was truly shared, which was taking time. He’d rejected Edmund’s offer of financial assistance, saying that Ovidia was an engineer; they didn’t need Edmund’s money.

  ‘He’s a bit nervous about things,’ their mother had said in some sort of agreement. ‘And he didn’t come for my birthday — he said Ovidia had something importa
nt on at work.’

  But she’d brushed off her concerns. ‘He’s in love. He just wants to keep her happy. Boys change when they find love.’ She’d sighed and Edmund could see that she wasn’t satisfied with her own explanation. ‘I thought I liked Ovidia when she came around to see us the first time. Now I’m not so sure. We’ve seen her twice since then, and one of those times was just for a few minutes.’ His mother had paused. ‘Jasper thinks the world of her, and I’m not sure that’s a good thing.’ Then she’d gone to refill the kettle, the conversation seemingly over. ‘He as much as accused me of being racist.’ She’d slammed the kettle onto the counter.

  ‘What was so important that you couldn’t come for Mummy’s birthday?’ Edmund had asked Jasper at dinner.

  ‘Ovidia had something on with work,’ Jasper had said. ‘You didn’t go either.’

  ‘I was in Japan.’

  ‘You can go to Japan any old time.’

  ‘It was for work.’

  ‘So your work is more important than Ovidia’s?’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘You didn’t have to.’

  Edmund had backed down, not wanting to get into an argument. It had seemed any disagreement with Jasper quickly became volatile. He could go from a calm discussion to leaping to his feet and marching away, sometimes only as far as the men’s room before he returned. It had been clear that Edmund wouldn’t be able to convince his brother to leave Ovidia. What reason would he give him? I think she’s physically violent towards you.

  He’d spent some time reading about violence in relationships. It was a subject he had no experience with, at least not with men being the victims. He’d corroborated what he saw in Jasper with what had been documented — which surprisingly wasn’t much. Most of the information available had been about men hitting women — not the other way around. One point that kept arising was that men and women usually had to decide for themselves to leave with phrases like ‘hit rock bottom’ and ‘I was sure he was going to kill me’.

  But Edmund wasn’t going to let that happen. Now that he was, almost, sure of what was happening, he was going to help his brother.