Mrs Fitzroy

by Rachael Wright

  "I'm not sure how it happened. We met in a normal way. He was good looking and had a solid career. He was charming. Our life was happy. John had an inheritance from his parents. And I, I had a large savings, it's how we could afford this, John insisted on ‘the best’ and I let him. Most of the money is tied up in this house. I insisted that the money my parents left me be put in a time-controlled account, he said no, he wanted to invest, and I said I'd already done it. He was furious.

  "He changed right as he made the decision to move for work. I didn't want to. It was a lot to give up; the profession I'd spent my entire adult life preparing for. But in the end, I did. We moved. I don't know whether he saw that as total submission, whether he could get away with anything because we'd moved away from all I'd ever known.

  "Of course he started the affair with Megan, and every day I became less and less …” Davonna struggled to find the word, “… human to him."

  Savva heaved a sigh, but Davonna, she was firmly in the past, reliving those changing days.

  "He forced himself on me every night. He hurt me. Some were worse than others. But I never told him no. How could I? He controlled my life by then: the money, the house, where I went and whom I saw. Somehow I'd married a monster. I’ve said it before … but I know it’s true.

  "I tried so hard to be good, to do even more than he asked. To never give him recourse to hurt me. I brought up his affair with Megan once, at the very beginning. I never asked him to be faithful. I did everything I was supposed to do … and it still happened." Davonna broke off, overcome by the weight of it, by the insanity.

  "You think you could have prevented it?" he whispered.

  Davonna looked up with a start, just remembering that he was there and that she'd spoken aloud. "I thought so."

  Alexandros put out his hands and held both of hers. "I've investigated so many rapes over the years that I've lost track. The facts might be different, but a common thread held every case together—it was never the victim's fault. There is nothing she, or he, could have done differently. We like to tell ourselves, the media especially, that the girl was drunk or she wore revealing clothes or she was flirting at the bar, or that the young man was gay, and, it's very subtle, but somehow they deserved it, they did something to cause themselves to be assaulted.

  "They weren't smart enough to stop someone from raping them. We blame the victim because it would be too horrifying to accept the fact that men rape because they want to and there is precious little that can be done to prevent it. Because sometimes life is random and unspeakable horrors can happen to anyone—no matter how perfect you are." Alexandros took a deep breath, and held tighter to Davonna's hand. "My daughter Minerva died in a boating accident on the Aegean. Well, that's the official version. Her boyfriend raped her. In his lust, and his narcissism, he thought she owed him. He forgot about the boat. He raped her and moments later the boat crashed into a massive rock and tore open the hull. He managed to escape, but she drowned. He let her drown so she couldn't tell anyone what he'd done."

  Davonna looked at Alexandros, her eyes as big as saucers, her hand covering her mouth. The lightheartedness which filled the room, only minutes before, was gone, not even a wisp of it remained.

  "I didn't tell you to upset you, just to let you know that you aren't to blame. You never were."

  "But I never left …”

  "You loved him. That's not a crime."

  "I'm so sorry about your daughter."

  Alexandros leaned back, finally letting go of Davonna's cold, thin hand, and smiled. "She was a beautiful girl, but not just her face. She was kindness incarnate. I couldn't have been more proud of the woman she was. All a parent could ever hope for their child … she had it."

  "You miss her."

  "Every day." Alexandros stood and walked to the massive windows. "You'll be alright, Davonna, one day you'll look back and it will be better. Something good will come from all this."

  "Thank you for what you did."

  Alexandros turned, a frown creased his brow. "I just did my job."

  "Oh no," Davonna said, standing up and joining him. "You did so much more. I owe you my life."

  She looked across at the man who'd been through the whole ordeal as well and something broke inside her. It was deeper than the crash of the splintering ceiling … there was a fissure in her very soul and it was letting in light.

  In front of her, Savva had tears in his eyes. He opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment the door swung open.

  "Have I missed something?" Miriam's sharp accusatory tone echoed around the room.

  Alexandros blinked away the tears and slipped the mask of professionalism back on. "I've come to tell Mrs. Fitzroy that the prosecutor has decided to drop the charges. She's a free woman."

  "Well, it's about time," Miriam seethed.

  "Captain Savva was kind enough to come himself and tell me. It wasn't a personal vendetta, he was doing his job."

  Miriam looked daggers at Savva before rolling her eyes and nodding in Davonna's general direction.

  "I'll see myself out, Mrs. Fitzroy. I am sorry for what you have been through, and I wish you smooth sailing from now on."

  "Thank you."

  He didn't try to touch her again, although she was seized with a desire to hug him. He just inclined his head at Miriam and left as quietly and as unexpectedly as he had come.

  "What on earth happened between you two?"

  Davonna leaned against the windows and thought longingly of the bathtub upstairs. "They've ruled John's death a suicide."

  Miriam stuttered her shock and then launched into a tirade.

  "I'm tired," Davonna said, and Miriam fell silent immediately. "I think I'll take a bath. Perhaps a glass of wine."

  "Davonna, what are you going to do, I mean beyond the bath? You're free, you can go home. Home—home"

  "I haven't figured that out."

  The bags were packed, the flight booked, and all that remained was for Miriam to board the ferry. Davonna woke early with a strange weight on her chest. The house would be empty in a few hours. There wouldn't be anyone to cook for, no one's sheets to change, no company to sit in the gazebo with and reminisce about childhood.

  But then, Miriam wouldn't be looking over her shoulder either. Davonna would be free, unencumbered by her sister's ideas of convention and her own guilt. Behind the facade, Davonna knew that Miriam was tormented by the fact she hadn't noticed what John was doing—that she didn't intervene when she could have.

  Davonna sighed, twitched back the curtains, flung open the shutters, and looked out into the early dawn. It was so calm, the soft breeze caressed the leaves, pushed them against their mates, mimicking the sound of falling rain, orchestrating a private symphony. Davonna leaned out the window, closed her eyes, and drank in the music and the peace. Her fingers grasped the windowsill, but in her mind she floated out the window, over the garden, up the hill, and then hovered over the sea, skimming its face with the tips of her fingers.

  "Where are you?"

  Davonna turned. Miriam stood in the doorway, still in her black pajamas, her hair loose and tangled, slung over one shoulder. There were dark smudges of black under her eyes, perhaps she hadn't removed all her mascara the night before. "I was flying."

  "Where to?"

  "Just over the island," she said, and looked back out the window. Miriam frowned behind her. "What time do you have to leave?"

  "The ferry leaves at two,” Miriam answered

  "It's peaceful this morning," Davonna said, wistfully.

  "Are you alright?"

  "You didn't notice the sunrise?"

  "No, I was asleep."

  "I've always loved the mornings."

  "Come on, let's go eat breakfast."

  Davonna didn't move, but continued to stare thirstily out the window. Miriam bit her lip, hesitated for a moment, and then making up her mind, walked forward and steered her downstairs.

  "What is it?" Miriam said, setting down a p
late of poached eggs and avocado toast.

  Davonna stared at the plate, as though she had only realized they'd come downstairs. She shook her head experimentally. "I'm sorry, I was miles away."

  "Are you alright?" Miriam said, nervously. "I don't have to leave if you aren't well."

  "No, your family needs you home. I'm fine. I just blanked out."

  "What were you thinking about?"

  "Being alone."

  "I don't have to leave,” Miriam repeated.

  "It'll be good for me. I need to process it all. I need to be able to cope on my own and not always have someone to fall back on."

  "That's not a terrible thing to have."

  "How will I grow? How will I get better, if I never learn to be alone?"

  "It wasn't right what he did to you. He treated you terribly."

  "Yes, he did," Davonna said slowly. "But now he's gone, and I'm free. I'm seeing the psychologist Sofia suggested."

  "But are you? Are you free?"

  Davonna stared at her sister. The kitchen fell silent as a tomb around them. It was only the sound of their breathing that filled the space. It was as though they'd fallen into a movie, shards of memory flipped and furled around her; John's car being slowly swallowed by the sea, Ioannis waving a tearful farewell, Miriam's fierce face when Savva arrested her.

  Davonna bowed her shoulders under the weight of it. Was it possible to carry on? What would she do? Where should she go? Should she go at all?

  "I'm fine," she heard herself say. "Sit and eat."

  Miriam dithered on the spot but eventually grabbed her cup of tea from the counter and sat across from Davonna. They didn't speak, but the silence, which continued to fill the kitchen, was now a kind one. The sun shone through the window, bright and full, glinting off the stainless steel appliances and copper pots hung on the walls.

  Miriam finished her tea and went silently upstairs. Davonna stood by the sink, absentmindedly washing the dishes. Was it that long ago that John's schedule and mood ruled her day? She felt the tug, even now, to start on chores, to dust and vacuum and mop and bend over crevices to ferret out dirt.

  At times it was as though he was still there, still hovering. The weight of it settled over her chest. Even the reality that she wouldn't be going to jail did nothing to displace it. John had framed her. He was happy thinking of her rotting away in a Greek prison, forever tied to the spot he'd chosen—her final resting place.

  Davonna covered her face with her hands, forgetting they were covered in suds. She sputtered and plucked a towel from the oven door. Her hands shook, her knees wobbled. She collapsed. Fell onto the floor. Watched the abyss come closer, carrying John's face with it. His sharp laughter rang out, echoing inside her skull, and shattering the illusion that he was gone.

  She looked up; her breathing shallow, shaking uncontrollably, barely clinging onto the edge of reality. Her eyes caught an item out of place. She blinked. There on the table, one of her cups, the purple Queen Victoria collection. Miriam. She clung onto the idea of her sister, at first only the name, and then the sound of her laugh, the way her eyes crinkled into slits, and then memories … on and on until she came to the earliest memory she had. Playing on the grounds of Culzean Castle in Ayrshire. Miriam dipped her toes into the fountain in the garden when their parents weren't watching.

  With a gasp, Davonna opened her eyes. Scotland was gone. Whatever it was had passed. The darkness was no longer visible. She was back in the kitchen, on the cool floor, the sound of Miriam packing coming through the ceiling. But she was exhausted. She tried to pull herself up, but her arm refused to move. The thought of Miriam finding her, worrying, refusing to leave, acted like a stimulant and she managed to life herself onto a chair.

  "Do you want to go to the beach, sit for a while?" Miriam said, reentering the kitchen a few minutes later.

  "Are you all packed?"

  "Yes, but it is such a nice day. Let's get some gelato and sun ourselves. I want to have something to show for my vacation."

  "You're tan."

  Miriam smiled, her eyes crinkled. "Get your keys."

  They piled the suitcases into the back of the black BMW and pulled out the driveway, windows down; Beyoncé blaring on the radio. Davonna looked over, laughing as Miriam belted out the lyrics. She looked over and smiled as the wind picked up Miriam's hair and blew it back and forth across Miriam's face; her cheeks were a warm red and her eyes sparkled.

  They pulled up at the beach with a skid, sending rocks flying. Davonna winced, checking that no one had noticed. Miriam practically skipped to the gelato stand and then, realizing she didn't speak Greek, turned and told Davonna what she wanted.

  "A green tea and a limoncello," Davonna told the stall owner. He was older with shock white hair and chapped lips. He looked like a vacationing Santa Claus.

  "This is the life," Miriam sighed.

  They unrolled a large towel from the car and spread it on the sand. The sun beat on them with unquenched ferocity. Davonna's skin prickled in the warmth. But the heat was wholesome, like nothing dark or evil could survive its unrelenting beating. Here and there teenage girls lay out on towels in bright bikinis. It looked like a postcard.

  "I'm not sure I'll survive England," Miriam said, lying out on the towel, one hand flopped over her eyes to protect them from the sun.

  "Is it the clouds?"

  "Yes," Miriam said, dramatically. "How can I go back, knowing you're here soaking up all this glorious sun?"

  "Bring Seamus, Alba, and Flora back with you."

  Miriam peeked out from under her arm. "When?"

  "In a couple months?"

  "You'll have to beat us away with a stick, especially when Alba finds out beaches like this exist."

  "Have you any idea what you're going to do? Where you'll go?"

  Davonna couldn't look at Miriam to answer, and so cast her eyes out over the sea. The waves sparkled in the sun, as though a hundred thousand diamonds floated on the surface, waiting to be scooped up. "I don't know. What do you think I should do?"

  "I want you to come home. You can reapply to the UN, or go to work for the government, but you would be close—that’s all that matters."

  "I suppose."

  "You can't stay here, not after everything."

  "It's funny," Davonna said, without taking her eyes from the diamond-strewn sea, "before John died, I dreamed about finally being able to leave, but I don't feel that anymore. Perhaps I just wanted to leave him. I don't mind the island now … in fact; I think I've grown to like it. I have friends here."

  "Yes, but think of all that's happened," Miriam said, doggedly. "It won't be healthy for you to live in that house with all those memories."

  "He can't live forever. Not even his memory can live forever. He's already dying a bit, every day."

  "Please come home," Miriam said. She threw her arms around Davonna, pulling her close, clutching her to her chest.

  Davonna patted Miriam softly on the back like a fussy child. "I will. Just not permanently, not right now. Maybe someday."

  "I didn't think you'd come." She broke away and wiped her eyes.

  "You'll go home to your job and your husband and your daughter and your house, and I won't press on your mind so much."

  "Yes, you will!"

  "Yes, but you weren't meant to take care of me your whole life. Go home and enjoy your family. They must miss you terribly."

  Miriam couldn't answer. She simply nodded and wiped her tired eyes again, looking sorrowfully at her empty gelato cup. They relaxed, sat and watched the waves, listened to the chatter around them; comfortable in the company of someone it is possible to be silent with. Davonna rose after a while and took their cups to a trashcan and shaking out the towel. Miriam stared forlornly at the ocean.

  The ferry terminal teemed with travelers. Davonna placed her wide-brimmed hat with the black ribbon on Miriam's head and kissed her on the cheek. They held hands in a quiet sort of way, oblivious to everyone around them.


  "Be safe. If you need me, I'll come. I'll come whenever," Miriam said, through thick tears.

  Davonna smiled and nodded, and then the horn blew and Miriam walked away swiftly, with every step her poise and calm and assuredness returned, she was going back to what was familiar, what was controllable, what was not life and death; what was not mired in confusion.

  Miriam turned at the last moment, before the ferry swallowed her. Davonna caught sight of the cream hat, flopping in the breeze, and Miriam's hand beating the air in farewell. Davonna raised hers and from afar they looked like generals saluting each other at the end of a long battle. Then, as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone, into the belly of the ship.

  Davonna turned and walked slowly back to the car, her sandals slapped the asphalt in a weak sort of way. Miriam's question rolled over and over in her mind: where would she go? Now that she could go anywhere and do anything ... what would she choose to do? Did she really mean what she told Miriam? Was John really gone? Or would he follow her forever?

  Davonna Fitzroy's home turned into a hive of activity after Miriam left for England. Florists arrived and dropped off a colossal load of massive arrangements; coreopsis and white heather and irises. A caterer pulled up with three be-suited helpers and silver carts laden with covered dishes. There was even a quartet in cream linen pants and blue button up shirts and polished black dress shoes, which clicked on the hardwood floors. They passed through the house, lugging their sound equipment and instruments, and into the garden like a tremendous monochrome parade.

  By seven o'clock on a warm Saturday night, three months after John's death, the sounds of Verdi and Beethoven drifted across the hedges that bordered the road, drifting down through the wandering hills, and settling on copses of olive trees. Davonna stood by the glass front doors in a loose cerulean damask dress with gold embroidery and organza flutter sleeves. Standing there she looked for the first time … alive. There was a fire, a purpose in her eyes and they were clear, as though she'd been racked with fever and was now suddenly cool.

  Ioannis and Theodora were the first to arrive. They walked hand-in-hand down the drive, their smiles growing brighter with every step. As Theodora wrapped her arms around Davonna, a string of cars pulled into the circular drive.