The Pet Shop at Pennycombe Bay

by Sheila Norton

  ‘You don’t have to look at me,’ she said, and her voice sounded shaky, as shaky as I was feeling myself. ‘You don’t have to say anything. I won’t try to make any excuses. But I am sorry. More sorry than I can ever say.’

  Despite myself, I swung round then to face her. She’d walked a few paces nearer to me as she spoke, and now I looked at her more closely, I almost recoiled in shock. There were bruises on her face, and livid red wheals around her neck. One eye was so badly bruised and swollen, it was almost closed, the eyelid split, and stitches were visible across her forehead. There was a bandage around one hand, and I could see bruising extending up her wrist.

  She looked down, saying nothing. I’d been right. She looked old, much older than I remembered, her skin almost grey, her eyes tired and her expression … kind of blank. She looked like someone who’d given up.

  ‘What happened to you?’ I found myself asking, even though I didn’t want to. ‘Was it a road accident or something?’

  She gave a short grunt of something like laughter. ‘No.’

  And still we stood there, facing each other in the corridor, a short distance between us, people passing us – nurses, patients, a porter pushing an empty wheelchair – and Prudence whimpering slightly by my legs, probably sensing the tension in the air. I wanted to walk away, but something was stopping me. Something made me ask the next, the obvious, question:

  ‘Did … did somebody do this to you? Did someone beat you up?’

  It flashed through my mind that perhaps she’d treated someone else as badly as she’d treated me. That someone had taken revenge, in a horribly physical way. That perhaps she’d deserved it. But I blinked back the thought as quickly as it had come to me. No, nobody deserved that. Not even her.

  ‘Someone,’ she said, bringing her unbandaged hand up to gently touch her damaged eyelid. ‘Yes, someone did this to me. Someone was doing this to me for over twenty years. How could that have happened?’ she asked, wonderingly, as if she was talking to herself. ‘How could I have let that happen?’

  ‘Your husband?’ I gasped. ‘He …’ I struggled even to remember his name. I’d never met him; Liz had never invited me to her house. ‘He, Paul, he hit you?’

  She sighed. ‘We don’t need to talk about this. Don’t feel sorry for me, I don’t deserve it. It’s no excuse, no excuse at all for what I did to you. How I let you down.’

  ‘But are you saying this was this going on back then? Was it always going on? He was violent, abusive, and you never told anyone? You acted as if everything was fine! You never seemed …’ I shook my head. My mind was in a whirl. She had looked after me. Helped me, encouraged me, given me the confidence I’d lacked. She’d always seemed so calm, so well balanced. ‘You never seemed unhappy or anything,’ I said, aware that I was making it sound like an accusation.

  ‘I was terrified,’ she said, very quietly. ‘All the time. Terrified of going home, of him being in a bad mood. Of saying the wrong thing, upsetting him without even meaning to. He always said it was my fault, that I’d made him so angry, that he wouldn’t have lost his temper if I’d behaved myself and hadn’t annoyed him. He usually hit me where the bruises wouldn’t show.’ She gave a little cynical smile. ‘He got careless eventually. This time he really excelled himself.’ She touched the marks on her neck, briefly. ‘He throttled me. I was lucky I managed to knee him in the groin, or else …’

  She tailed off, shaking her head. I was almost too appalled to speak.

  ‘Why didn’t you leave? Why didn’t you tell anyone?’ I said eventually.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, still in that little voice that was almost a whisper. ‘I suppose I believed him, you know? Believed it was my fault, that I somehow deserved it.’

  ‘But …’ I shook my head. ‘You acted so normally. You taught me how to have more confidence in myself. It makes no sense!’

  ‘I know. I guess I wanted you to be the way I should have been. You were … when I first met you, you were too naïve, too shy and trusting and vulnerable. I felt like it was, somehow, my duty to protect you. To prevent you from ending up like me, controlled by somebody who treated me like crap.’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t your duty! You should have been making yourself like that, not me! What was I, just some, like, project for you?’ I was cross now and, annoyingly, on the verge of tears. I didn’t know if I was more upset for her or for myself. ‘I thought we were friends!’

  ‘We were. If I hadn’t loved you as a friend, I wouldn’t have tried so hard to help you to make you more sure of yourself, to stand up for yourself—’

  ‘But you didn’t stand up for me! When it came to the crunch, you let me down! You let me go, you didn’t try to save me. You’ve never even apologised! What kind of friend does that? It was your fault, and you let me take the blame!’

  ‘Yes. I realise Marco’s called you to tell you what’s happened,’ she said, nodding to herself. ‘I made another mistake, a bad one. You see? There’s nothing I can say. No excuses. Too late for apologies. I found it hard to concentrate, at work, after I’d … had a beating. That time, the mistake with the soup, he’d broken two ribs. I was in agony.’

  ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘The other time, the time you … when you left – it was burns. Cigarette burns, on my arms. I could hardly think for the pain.’ She paused, while I just stared at her, horrified. Prudence, now becoming agitated by the delay and the tense atmosphere, gave a little yap and pawed at my leg, and I bent to comfort her. ‘All I could think was that if I lost my job, if I went home and said I’d lost my job, he’d kill me. He’d actually kill me.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ I stuttered. ‘Have you left him now? They – the doctors – must have guessed by now what’s been going on?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve told them, admitted it, finally. He’s been arrested.’ She took a deep, shuddering breath, and despite everything I was seized with a sudden urge to hug her. ‘I know it sounds crazy, but I feel so guilty for telling them. And at the same time, so frightened. What have I done?’ she cried out, in such a suddenly loud voice, almost a wail, that Prudence barked in fright and I finally moved towards Liz, just a step or two, holding out my free arm while keeping Pru close on her lead.

  ‘You’ve done the right thing, that’s what you’ve done,’ I said, laying my hand on her arm. She grasped the hand with her good one, looked me in the eyes and nodded.

  ‘Thank you. I won’t ask you to forgive me. You shouldn’t. I don’t deserve it,’ she said again. ‘I felt so ashamed, after you were dismissed instead of me, I couldn’t bear to see you, to talk to you. I didn’t deserve your friendship.’

  ‘I missed you!’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She hung her head. ‘I’ll go now. I’m upsetting Prudence. But I’m glad I’ve seen you; glad I’ve finally had a chance to tell you.’

  ‘Me too. I’m sorry about what’s happened to you.’ I couldn’t say any more, couldn’t say it was all OK and I forgave her. Not yet. I needed to process it, sit on my own with Prudence and talk about it out loud, try to get my head around it. Would I be able to forgive her, now I knew what had happened, why she’d done what she’d done? I wasn’t sure, yet.

  ‘Are you here to visit someone? A friend?’ she asked as I started to move away.

  ‘No. I visit the children’s ward. With Prudence.’

  ‘You’ve changed; grown up,’ she said with the ghost of a smile.

  ‘Yes, well …’ I started, but found I couldn’t think how to go on. Grown up? I was nearly thirty-one! Had I really been such a child just a couple of short years ago when we’d worked together? I supposed I had. ‘Bye, Liz,’ I said instead. And then, as an afterthought, when I’d already passed her in the corridor, heading for the exit, I called back, so softly that afterwards I wondered whether I’d been hoping she wouldn’t hear: ‘Call me when you’re out of hospital. I’m still on the same number.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Come on, Pru,’ I said th
en, speeding up as I walked out to the hospital car park, marching with a kind of determination as if I wanted to get away from there as fast as I could. ‘Home. She won’t call. I don’t suppose I’ll ever see her again.’

  Good. She scared me. She looked weird.

  ‘She couldn’t help it, Prudence.’ I sighed. I could hardly believe I was defending her, even to myself. By the time I’d reached my car, the whole episode seemed completely unreal. ‘It’s good she’s had him arrested, though.’

  If nothing else, I could be glad about that.

  CHAPTER 30

  By Christmas Eve, Jim still hadn’t come back to the shop. He’d called in a couple of times to make sure I was coping OK, and expressed surprise and delight at the changes I’d gradually introduced.

  ‘Everything’s running smoothly,’ I reassured him. ‘And all the new lines are selling well.’

  I’d finally managed to squeeze in another, smaller chair next to the counter, and our regular customers were so enjoying sitting down for a few minutes for a chat about their pets and a general gossip about Pennycombe Bay life that I was beginning to think that perhaps it hadn’t been such a mad idea after all to consider offering cups of tea and cakes for a small charge!

  ‘I’m very impressed,’ Jim said. ‘And relieved, Jess. It’s a weight off my mind to see how well you’re managing the shop. Now I can think more seriously about retiring.’

  ‘What?’ I stopped what I was doing and turned to him in surprise. Just as I was starting to really enjoy working in the shop, surely he wasn’t going to close it? ‘You’re not seriously going to retire soon, are you?’

  ‘Yes, I am, Jess. These couple of weeks, looking after Vera – it’s made me take stock of things. She’s recovering now, as you know, but the fact is, she needs me, whether she’ll ever admit it or not.’ He smiled to himself. ‘She’s very weak, and she still can’t get about very well on her own. She’s had to let me minister to her, and believe it or not she’s even been quite grateful!’

  ‘Well yes, I’m sure she is.’

  He laughed. ‘Ha! You know what Vera’s like. I expected her to kick me out as soon as she felt a bit better, but no, she seems to have accepted having me around. At last,’ he added under his breath.

  ‘You’re staying there? Permanently?’ I squawked. I hadn’t expected that!

  ‘No. In fact, when she’s well enough, she’s actually going to move in with me.’

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘It makes more sense. My place is a bungalow: she’ll have no stairs to manage. Fortunately my cats are very friendly and I’m pretty sure they’ll accept Doc living with them.’ He paused, raising an eyebrow at me. ‘And I’ve reassured Vera she can have her own room – she doesn’t have to worry about that.’ He chuckled. ‘But you never know, she might change her mind eventually!’

  ‘Are you getting married, Jim?’ I said. I was so surprised by all this, I was still standing stock still at the shelves, holding a card of dog collars.

  ‘No. I’ve asked her to, but she just laughed at me. “Do we really need to go to all that what-d’you-call-it – palaver, at our age?” she said.’ He smiled as he imitated Vera’s voice giving her forthright opinion. ‘She’s quite right, of course. We don’t need to bother. We’re just going to live in sin.’ He thought about this for a minute and then added, grinning again, ‘Not that there’ll be any actual sin going on, I don’t suppose!’

  ‘Good for you, both of you!’ I said, dropping the collars and going over to give him a hug.

  ‘Thanks, Jess. So you see: I just want to spend time with her, now. There’s no point moving her in with me, only to let her sit there on her own all day every day while I’m in the shop. After all this time …’

  He tailed off, shrugging, looking a bit uncomfortable.

  ‘All this time you’ve loved her,’ I finished for him, and he went a bit pink, shuffled his feet, and then gave a little nod.

  ‘Yes, as everyone seems to have noticed!’

  ‘I’m pleased for you, Jim. But not about the shop! I wish you didn’t have to give it up. I’ve loved working here—’

  ‘Give it up?’ He stared at me. ‘Who said anything about giving it up? I’m still going to own the business, Jess. I’m just making you the manager. At least, that’s what I was hoping – and assuming, to be honest. Are you happy to take over permanently? You’ll get a higher salary, obviously, and a free hand. You’ve already shown how capable you are of running it on your own.’

  ‘Oh!’ The conversation had been a series of shocks already, but this was the most surprising one of all. ‘I … I’ve been worried that I was going to be out of a job!’

  ‘Of course not. I couldn’t do without you, Jess.’ He looked around the shop, nodding with satisfaction. ‘There have been times when I wondered if we could keep going, you know, with the competition from the supermarkets and the big chain pet stores. But now, with all these new lines you’ve introduced, and the window display, and the way you’ve rearranged the shelves – you’ve given the place a new lease of life, and it’s obvious people are enjoying coming in. So: I’ll get your new contract written up properly, and shall we say you’ll take over from January? Or is that too soon?’

  I shook my head, words deserting me for a minute. ‘No, if you’re really sure that’s what you want, Jim, of course I’ll do it. Thank you so much, for trusting me.’

  ‘I’ve always trusted you. You’ve always been better, in every way, than you think you are, Jess. Don’t ever put yourself down.’

  ‘All right,’ I said, blinking back at him. ‘I won’t.’

  ‘Anyway, I’d better get back to my convalescent, or she’ll be complaining even more than usual,’ he said, and with a quick wave to me he was gone.

  I closed the shop early that day. Nobody would be looking to buy anything from a pet shop on Christmas Eve afternoon. I went home and took Prudence for a long walk, telling her all about the new developments.

  ‘I’m pleased about Jim and Vera,’ I said. ‘It’s rather sweet that they’ve finally got together. Romantic.’

  Huh. You humans make me laugh with all that romance stuff. We dogs don’t bother.

  ‘No. But you did like poor Buddy, didn’t you.’

  Yes. I still miss him.

  ‘Ah, never mind, Pru. I haven’t got a man friend either, but we’ve got each other, haven’t we. That’s all that matters. And it’s Christmas tomorrow! Come on, let’s go home and pack for Exeter.’

  Ruth was going straight to her parents’ home from work that evening, taking Ollie with her. She’d been very excited about having their first Christmas together, his first time of staying with her family overnight. I was thinking about her fondly as I drove to my dad’s place a little later, with presents and contributions of wine, biscuits and sweets loaded into the boot. I still couldn’t get over the fact that Ruth had turned her life around so spectacularly and successfully. We were getting along together now, as well as we had done when we were younger. In fact it was already quite difficult to remember how difficult things had been between us during the previous couple of years, and how it had all come to a head in such a horrible way. True, there were still odd occasions when she got a bit moody or snapped at me, but it was easy to forgive her now, and she always apologised afterwards and explained that she’d been fighting the temptation to have a drink.

  ‘I’m always going to have to fight it, I know that,’ she’d told me just a few evenings before. ‘But I’m determined never to backslide, no matter what. I wouldn’t be with Ollie now, if I was still drinking.’

  And Ollie was obviously very important to her. Their relationship seemed to be moving fast; he was such a nice guy and I was so thrilled for her. It seemed, suddenly, as if everyone was getting happily coupled up – except, of course, for me and Prudence!

  Dad and I spent a quiet day together on Christmas Day. We had such a lot to catch up on, and although the weather was cold, it was dry and bright, so we went for
a long walk with Prudence after we’d cleared up from the fabulous dinner he’d cooked. The main event for our family was always Boxing Day, when we got together with my aunt, uncle and Ruth – and this year, Ollie – for another big meal, at their house. Once everyone was full to the brim with turkey, Christmas pudding and all the accompaniments, we collapsed in a happy stupor together to watch an old film on TV. I was helping Auntie Susan in the kitchen later, making yet another round of tea for everyone, when she suddenly turned to me, gave me an unexpected hug and said:

  ‘We’ve never thanked you properly, Jess.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Helping Ruth. We were so worried. We knew she was drinking, but obviously not … the level it had reached.’

  ‘But she did it all on her own. She joined AA, and she’s stuck to it. I really admire her for it.’

  My aunt smiled at me. ‘She wouldn’t have done it if it weren’t for you. You were the one who realised how bad things were. I know she hid it well, but when you found out, and especially when you came back to Exeter that weekend and she thought you might be leaving for good—she’s told me how worried she was that she’d driven you away—she suddenly saw, as she put it, a vision of her future: alone, drinking herself into oblivion, probably losing her job, ruining her health.’ She nodded. ‘She was frightened, Jess. She needed that shock, to make her do something about it.’

  I hugged my aunt back. ‘She’s never told me that – not exactly, although I did suspect it was something like that. And it was all because I left her a note but forgot to say I was only going to Dad’s for a couple of days! I’m just so happy she’s got herself off the drink. She’s back to being the Ruth I used to know. And Ollie—’

  ‘—is perfect for her. So much nicer than that Nick.’

  ‘Yes.’ I grimaced at the thought of Nick, but didn’t say any more on the subject. ‘She and Ollie are so good together. They’re like an old married couple already!’

  I felt such a warm, happy glow after that conversation; so content to be together with my lovely family, so glad that everyone was happy again. Even Dad had dropped some strange and oblique hints about a lady he’d met at his bowls club, whom he’d apparently taken out for dinner a couple of times. I was glad; he’d been on his own for far too long. He wouldn’t say too much about her, batting my curiosity aside, and I guessed he was a bit embarrassed to be telling me, and nervous of me reading too much into it. But even if it was nothing more than a nice friendship, it would be good for him. And as for me, I had my new career as manager of the pet shop, my rewarding work with the PAT charity, and of course, my Prudence. I didn’t need anything else. I wasn’t hankering after anything else. I was happy.