“Yes, he has. A few times. He has a terrible temper. Something just snaps in him and he loses it completely. When I broke my toe, I was trying to get away from him. Usually he just pushes me around a bit. And then a few weeks ago, he hit me in the face and I was too bruised to go out for a while. You remember, I said I’d tripped over Bobby?”
Lisa nods, says nothing, haunted by her own violent shadows.
“I’m getting far too good at lying, hiding what’s really going on,” Jessica says.
“What else could you do?”
They sit in silence for a while, watching the flames lick the window of the stove.
“It’s all over for me with Mike.” A tear rolls down her bruised cheek. “I think I was always scared of him. Now I’m bloody terrified.”
“How long have you been married?”
“Nearly four years. He was kind and thoughtful when I first met him, but he’s changed with this job. He’s always stressed and his work takes priority over everything. I want a job, and children, but he won’t contemplate it. He gets really angry when I raise the subject. These things are fundamental. And my husband won’t even entertain a conversation.”
They sit as silent tears falls down Jessica’s face.
“I mean it, Jessica, stay as long as you like.”
After a while Lisa gets up and makes toast with jam and brings it all in on a tray. She gets the stove burning again and they sit for a long time, watching the flames and eating their toast, each contemplating her own personal torment.
*
“I’d better see the doctor, I suppose,” says Jessica. “You’re right, I need to get my stomach checked out, it would be stupid to leave it when it feels so tender.”
“There are other good reasons to go, too.”
“I know. I need another witness to corroborate my story for the police.” Jessica looks deeply upset under all the bruising, her pummelled face pale and lined with anxiety.
Lisa calls the doctor’s surgery and fixes an emergency appointment for later that afternoon. Then they take some close-up pictures of her battered face in the stark light by the back window. Lisa uploads them to her computer. When she sees the damage exposed, Jessica’s hair pulled back from her face, she’s both appalled and saddened.
Jessica needs some things for the short term – she left with nothing, not even a bag or her mobile, and she wants to call her sister. She starts to worry that Mike might take the mobile – while admitting there’s no particular reason why he should – with all her addresses and contacts. To calm her, Lisa offers to walk the dogs and try, discreetly, to see if Mike is still at the house.
If he is, they have no plan – the idea of seeing him is too frightening for them both – but if he’s not, at least they can go together and spend a few minutes there filling a bag for the next few days. Though Jessica left the house without keys, there’s a spare set hidden in the garden, which Mike doesn’t know about. Lisa wishes she were brave enough to offer to talk to him, though she’s unsure what she would say even if she could find the courage. It’s a pity for Jessica that the one person she knows in the village is the least able to stand up to anyone. One step at a time, she tells herself again. It’s becoming an irritating mantra.
Making sure all the doors and windows in the house are closed and locked, Lisa heads for the lake with the two dogs. She imagines Mike lying in wait for her on every corner and her mind’s in overdrive as she hurries on, nervous energy driving her feet into a semi-run. She decides to get the dogs exercised first before going past the house; though she’s wrapped up against the weather and is barely recognisable, she knows Bobby will give her away, and wants to pass by as quickly as possible. Dogs stopping at every post won’t help that plan.
She decides to ignore Mike if by some chance he sees her. Then she tells herself to stop thinking about it and just do it, or she’ll go mad. She heads towards the house, eyes glued on the front, vigilant for movement. There’s no car. At least not in the driveway. Trying not to look suspicious as she walks along the street on the opposite pavement, she glances towards the house and can see no obvious sign that he’s there. Curtains open both upstairs and in the living room at the front. She hurries away to tell Jessica.
Back at home, she finds Jessica in a state of high anxiety at the thought of going to the house and finding him there, or of being discovered retrieving her possessions.
“Do you think I should talk to the police before I go?” she says, pacing the floor. “Maybe they’ll come with me. Or at least I can say to him that he can’t touch me or threaten me, because I’ve told them.”
In the end she decides to call the police and delay going to the house until at least the next day. Knowing there’s no way she’d want to go with her, Lisa urges her to make the call straight away. She leaves the room out of respect for Jessica’s privacy but is waved back in to hear the one-sided conversation. Jessica raises her eyebrows and points to the handset and when Lisa nods her agreement, gives the landline number from the dial. She writes something on a scrap of paper and stands looking at it for a moment.
“They gave me a crime reference number.” She looks stricken. “Oh God. It seems such a terrible betrayal. I can’t go back to him, but I don’t want him to go to prison.”
“No. But you must report it.”
Jessica nods but says nothing. She looks white with strain around the darkening blotches.
The police will be there in an hour or so. Lisa remembers the conversation at the newsagent; there’s not much crime in the village to keep them busy. This will be a big incident for them.
It’s late morning when they arrive. Lisa’s disconcerted when she sees the chequered police car draw up outside, it’s like a public declaration of the mini-drama taking place at her house. Two uniformed officers walk up the front path, a young man, probably in his early twenties, and a dark-haired woman some years older. They introduce themselves; their names wash in and out, forgotten immediately. Lisa’s nervous, not only for Jessica, but on her own account. The scene’s far too close to her own recent past for comfort.
She ushers them into the living room, which suddenly seems crowded, and goes to fetch some extra chairs from the kitchen, shutting the dogs away behind her. The visitors sit together on the edge of the sofa, with Jessica and Lisa in front of them on the hard kitchen chairs.
“Mrs Temple… can I call you Jessica?” the woman starts. She has a strong Scottish accent and a straightforward manner. Neither of them comments on Jessica’s face. The young PC pulls out a notebook and pen and starts to write.
“Please tell us, in as much detail as possible, what happened.”
In a low voice, Jessica starts on her story and Lisa sits quietly, looking at her hands. From time to time the policewoman interjects to clarify a point or ask a question, but otherwise the room is quiet except for the monotone voice and the occasional crackle of kindling in the stove. When Jessica falters, they ask Lisa a few questions about the previous night and what she knows about Mike.
“Right. I think we’ve got the picture now. Do you want to make a formal charge?” Jessica looks blankly at her and the woman explains.
“We can use police powers to intervene, arrest, caution or charge an abuser. You can choose not to bring charges, but if the injuries turn out to be particularly bad, we may bring charges anyway. If we arrest him, it might be a deterrent against him re-offending, at least for a short time. It’ll also show him that we take domestic violence seriously and that his behaviour is unacceptable.”
Jessica shakes her head and swallows, but says nothing.
“You don’t need to decide right now. I suggest you go to the doctor, get checked out and make sure there are no serious internal injuries. You say you’ve taken pictures? May we see?”
Lisa brings them up on her computer and they get up to look. “Good. Can you email them to this address please?” The PC hands her a card and she nods.
“What can we do about Jessica’
s things?” Lisa asks. “She’s too scared to go back, and I’m not…”
“Of course not. If you like, we can accompany you. We’ll just sit outside in the car. Normally that’s enough.” A slight smile crosses the policewoman’s face and Lisa wonders how often she’s had to deal with violent men. Or women, for that matter, but in her experience, it’s always the men.
“When were you thinking of going?”
“Tomorrow. I have to get to the doctor this afternoon.”
“That’s fine. Give us a call when you’re ready to go – here’s my card. You already have my colleague’s. We may have some more questions, but you look as if you could do with a rest today. We can continue another time. You’ve been really helpful.”
Jessica sinks onto the sofa and Lisa goes with them to the door.
The policewoman turns to Lisa, “If he comes here, don’t let him in. Call us straight away and don’t let her go near him. He’s done some serious damage and she did the right thing to call us. It’s good you have the dogs for protection. Are you close friends?”
“Well, not really, we’ve only just got to know each other. But it’s okay for the moment, it’s fine for her to stay.”
“Well, perhaps she can contact someone in her family? She needs to be looked after.”
“Yes. I’ll check with her. Her mobile…”
“We’ll sort that out tomorrow. But she’ll probably know a number for parents, sisters, brothers? She should let someone know.”
“Of course. I’ll see what she wants to do.”
“We’ll be in touch.”
*
Jessica lies on the sofa holding her stomach.
“How are you doing? Want something to eat?”
“That was hard. Do you mind if I go and lie down upstairs for a while?”
“No, of course, go ahead. I’ll get you up for the doctor if you haven’t appeared by then. I’m going to nip round next door to check on John now, I won’t be two minutes, but I’ll double-lock the front door behind me, just to be safe.”
After just one knock at the door, John appears remarkably quickly.
“Are you all right, my dear? I saw the police car.”
“Fine, I’m fine. Jessica had… an accident. She’s going to be staying with me for a couple of days. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. Did we wake you up last night? We were a bit late.”
“Oh no, I didn’t hear anything. Hearing’s not what it was. Is Jessica hurt?”
“She’s going to the doctor later to get checked out but I’m sure she’ll be fine. Do you need me to get anything for you?”
“You’ve got enough on your plate. Maybe later in the week, but I’m fine for now.” She’s relieved they haven’t traumatised the old man, added insult to injury.
When she gets back, she finds herself at a loss, uncertain what to do until Jessica reappears. For once her own experience has taken a back seat, and for that, she is grateful. But the realisation of that truth makes her feel guilty all over again. She should eat, but can’t make even that simple decision, so lies down and closes her eyes, glad of the temporary solitude.
An hour later, she wakes with a start. She hadn’t meant to sleep, but had fallen into a deep slumber. Something’s woken her. She looks around, wondering if Jessica has come downstairs, but all is as it was and Riley hasn’t moved from his place in front of the stove. Suddenly frightened, she sits up slowly and slips on her shoes. Riley raises his head. “Shh, it’s okay,” she whispers, and creeps out into the hall.
There’s no obvious shadow behind the stained glass at the door, but as she turns away, intending to look from the living room window at the road outside, she notices a small white envelope on the mat beneath the letterbox. Still treading very carefully and keeping to the side of the hall, she goes to pick it up, moving away from the front door as quickly as she can, without making any noise. She hurries to the window at the front, peers out from behind the curtain, but can’t see anybody in the street.
Jessica Temple is written neatly on the envelope.
“Dammit,” she whispers.
“What?” says Jessica, appearing in the doorway. Lisa hands over the envelope wordlessly.
“Oh. Actually, I’m not going to open it now. I’m going to get ready to see the doctor.” She leaves it on the table and goes upstairs again, but comes straight down and says, “Can I borrow a hat and a scarf? Don’t want to scare the children.”
Digging out hats and scarves from the coatrack in the hall, Lisa decides she’ll have to go with her. If Mike is still anywhere nearby, Jessica can’t risk a confrontation on her own. So, shutting the dogs away, she puts on her coat and they leave the house together – Lisa first, to have a good look up and down the road, just in case.
They arrive at the doctor’s without incident and Jessica is called within minutes of arriving. There follows a long wait for Lisa. She flicks through some of the magazines without much enthusiasm, but soon gives up and contents herself with watching people coming and going.
After a full half hour Jessica reappears, papers in her hand, her face rewrapped in a woolly scarf and invisible but for her eyes. On the way home they’re both anxious and vigilant, hoping to see nobody. Back safely in the warmth of the cottage, Lisa makes tea even before removing her coat. She hands Jessica a mug, handle first.
“What did she say?”
“She wants me to go for a scan for my stomach. It’s probably not necessary but I suppose I should. My face will be fine in a few weeks. She’s prescribed painkillers and sleeping pills. Shit. Should have got them on the way back. I’ll probably need the sleeping pills.”
Lisa offers to go for her and keeps her coat on, thinking she’ll take Riley with her and go straight away. “Don’t go near the window while I’m out. I’m going to double-lock the door again.”
On the way back from the chemist she buys some ingredients for a simple supper, still feeling jumpy in case Mike is lying in wait. It’s probably stupid but she’s nervous enough as it is. Despite all her efforts to avoid involvement, stress, confrontation, they always seem to come to her anyway.
Back home there’s no sign of Jessica. The letter, earlier discarded unopened on the table, has also disappeared. She drops her coat at the bottom of the stairs and goes up to the spare room. The door’s closed.
“Jessica? Are you all right?” There’s silence on the other side of the door and she’s about to try the handle when it opens a crack and Jessica’s damaged face appears.
“Yeah. Opened the letter. I’ll come down.”
“Okay. Well, come down into the kitchen. I’ve got your medicine, and I’ve bought some supper for us. We should eat. I know you probably don’t feel like it, so I won’t overdo it, but you need to try. It might help.”
Jessica sits for a while at the kitchen table, watching Lisa prepare the food.
“He apologised. As I expected. Wants me to go and talk to him. But there’s still something aggressive about the way he’s talking. As if it’s my fault.”
“Do you want to go and talk to him?”
“No, no. No way I can do that yet. Going to stick with the plan to get the police to come with us tomorrow.”
“Good. He can’t just say sorry. I mean, look at you. I’m sorry, Jessica, but he can’t be allowed to do this again.”
“He hasn’t seen me, though. Probably doesn’t have any idea of the damage he’s done.”
“In more ways than one.”
Over supper, which Jessica picks at, obviously struggling, they discuss what needs to be collected from the house and the things she has to do over the next few days. She’ll call her sister once she feels strong enough and maybe arrange to stay with her for a while. She looks exhausted.
“I think you need to see how you feel once the dust has settled. No need to decide now,” Lisa says.
“I suppose not. Actually, I think I need to go to bed. I feel a bit off.”
“You’re shattered. Go on up, I
’ll let the dogs out and then I’m sure Bobby will come up in a minute.”
It’s barely eight in the evening and there’s no question of Lisa going to bed, so once Jessica and Bobby have gone upstairs she potters about, tidying up the kitchen and checking her emails. She calls her mum and tells her that she’s got a friend staying for a few days. Her mum sounds pleased. The fact that it’s actually part of another violent drama in her life, rather than a sign she’s getting back to normal, is ironic, she thinks as she puts the phone down.
Alone with Riley she sits for a while, letting the events of the past twenty-four hours wash over her. She picks up the diary and writes about what’s happened, her reactions, the flashback. That’ll be something to talk about at the next appointment. With a start, she remembers that it’s on Friday, the day after tomorrow.
*
She wakes with a jolt. Did she hear something? Running through her lock-up routine, she’s sure the house is secure, so what was it? Jessica or Bobby? The dogs would have reacted, surely, if there were an intruder. But still she’s not reassured and, wide awake, lies listening intently for a few minutes. The abrupt awakenings are common nature for her now. She strains her ears for the slightest sound. There’s nothing, as usual, but she’s alert. Sliding silently out of bed she unlocks the bedroom door and creeps out onto the landing. Jessica’s bedroom door is slightly ajar and she tiptoes across to check on her, pretty certain that it was closed last night when she came up. There’s nobody there, no Jessica and no Bobby.
Halfway down the stairs, she sees a dim glow from the sitting room. Jessica is sitting staring into the embers in the wood burner. Bobby wags his tail gently at Lisa as she peers round the door.
“Oh, sorry,” Jessica says. “I didn’t want to wake you up. Still couldn’t sleep.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not a great sleeper myself. Do you need anything?”
“No, I’m okay, thanks.”
“I’m going to make a drink and go back up, doze a bit if I can. Put more wood on the burner, if you’re going to stay down here, the central heating’s pretty useless.”
Dare to Remember: Shocking. Page-Turning. Psychological Thriller. Page 8