The Girl She Was

by Rebecca Freeborn

  ‘Oh, it’s not your fault, Layla. It was my choice not to tell him, and I’d do it again.’

  Layla looked up at her. ‘But if it wasn’t for me you’d probably still be together. I’m sorry.’

  Her mum gave her a grim smile. ‘Keeping that secret wasn’t the only reason your father and I split up. There’d been distance between us for years before that. The problems were already there, but we didn’t try to address them until it was too late. Don’t leave it until it’s too late to tell Cam. It’ll be better coming from you than from some stranger.’

  It had been so long since she’d connected with her mother. If only it didn’t always happen when she was consumed with fear. She wanted her mum to take control, as she’d done all those years ago; make the bad things go away. But Layla was no longer a teenager.

  ‘I can’t, Mum. I’ve already lied to him. I told him I didn’t know her.’

  She smiled gently. ‘Cam loves you. He’ll understand.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Are you really going to your school reunion?’

  Layla hesitated. ‘I don’t want to, but now that I’ve made up this stupid story I feel like I have to. And I do want to catch up with Renee. I’ve got a lot to make up for.’

  ‘How did you two fall out anyway? You were inseparable all through school.’

  Layla closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the stricken look on Renee’s face, remembering her words: I never thought you’d do something like this to me. She swallowed. ‘I did something that really hurt her. We never recovered after that.’

  Her mum moved forward as if to hug her, then stopped and touched her on the arm instead. ‘Whatever you did when you were seventeen, it shouldn’t matter anymore.’

  They said goodbye and Layla went back inside. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe it didn’t matter anymore. Maybe it wasn’t too late.

  She was cleaning her teeth when Cam came into the ensuite, looking sheepish. ‘I know you said not to, but I just replied to that Jodie woman.’

  Layla went hot and cold all over. She bent over to hide her face as she spat toothpaste into the sink and rinsed her toothbrush. ‘What did you say?’ she asked with forced casualness.

  ‘Ah, it’s a secret.’ He tapped the side of his nose.

  ‘What did you say to her, Cam?’ Her voice came out sharper than she’d intended.

  Cam looked taken aback. ‘I asked her if it was something to do with the reunion, that’s all.’ He gave her a wry grin. ‘Why, do you have a skeleton in your closet that I don’t know about?’

  ‘I asked you to ignore her.’ Layla’s hands prickled with pins and needles and she clenched her fists. ‘She’s a troublemaker.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t know her?’

  Layla’s composure shattered. ‘I don’t, Cam, Jesus! Will you just let it go?’

  He stared at her, his eyes hard. ‘What’s going on with you lately? What are you so touchy about?’

  ‘I’m not touchy, I just don’t need the Spanish Inquisition because I don’t want you to message some random woman.’

  ‘And I don’t need you attacking me every five minutes.’ His face was turning red now. ‘I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong, but if I have, just fucking tell me what it is, because I’m sick of this.’

  He waited for a few seconds, but Layla was frozen to the spot and couldn’t respond. He whirled around and left the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Layla knew she should follow him, try to apologise, but the panic was fluttering madly inside her, throwing itself against her rib cage, trying to escape, and she couldn’t let it out, not now, not when she still didn’t know what Jodie’s intentions were.

  She got the facial wipes out of the cabinet and slowly and painstakingly began to remove her make-up, stripping back her mask until there was no longer anything to hide her imperfections. Then she washed her face thoroughly and crept out into the bedroom, bracing herself to tackle the situation with Cam. But the room was dark and silent. She knew he was still awake by the rigid way he held his body as she slid into bed beside him.

  She rolled away from him, staring into the darkness.

  THEN

  ‘Come to The Knob with me tomorrow night,’ Scott said as I was pulling on my jeans for my Thursday-afternoon shift. He’d snuck into the toilet stall with me and my heart was still pitter-pattering after what his hands had been doing to my body.

  ‘I can’t,’ I said. ‘I’m going away with my family for the whole weekend.’

  Tomorrow was Good Friday and the cafe would be closed for the next four days. It would be the longest we’d been apart since we’d started this thing, and there was already an ache in my guts at the thought of not seeing him for so long.

  ‘That’s a shame,’ he murmured, grabbing the waistband of my jeans and pulling me back to him. ‘I’m going to miss you.’ He put his hand down the front of my jeans and I moaned a little as his fingers found me again. ‘Are you sure you can’t get out of it?’

  ‘It’s Easter, Scott,’ I said breathlessly. ‘Surely you’ve got family stuff on too?’

  ‘My in-laws are staying with us. I’d do anything to get away from the house for a while.’

  My head fell back. ‘You’re going to make it very difficult for me to concentrate on work, you know.’

  ‘I’m counting on it.’ He grinned. ‘Speaking of which, I’d better get back out there. Wait here.’

  He withdrew his hand and opened the door a crack before disappearing. I leant against the door and sighed, my body still buzzing. After another minute, I followed him out.

  It was a quiet evening and Scott talked about closing the cafe early. I took the garbage out while he balanced the till.

  The main street was deserted when I slipped down the side alley to the dumpster the cafe shared with the surrounding businesses. I stood on my toes, hoisted the bag over my head and hurled it into the bin. It was only as I was turning back, brushing my hands on my jeans, that I saw the figure silhouetted against the entrance to the alley. My guts turned to water as he began to walk towards me.

  ‘You didn’t think you were gonna get away with that little stunt you pulled the other week, did you?’ Matty drawled.

  I backed away until I was up against the dumpster. There was no way out. ‘Scott’s expecting me back inside.’

  ‘Anyone ever told you you’d look prettier with a dick in your mouth? You know how the song goes, Laaaylaaa.’

  He’d almost reached me now, and I was paralysed with fear. I couldn’t force my limbs to move no matter how hard I tried. ‘Get away from me! I’ll scream!’

  He laughed, sending a gust of sour alcohol breath into my face. ‘Everything’s closed. I could do whatever I fucken wanted to you right now, and there’s no one around to hear.’

  Then there were running footsteps from behind him and someone yanked him away from me and slammed him against the brick wall. Fear of a different kind rose within me as Scott’s hand closed around Matty’s throat.

  ‘You touch her again and I’ll kill you,’ he growled.

  ‘I was just muckin’ around, mate,’ Matty said, his voice muffled. ‘The bitch kicked me in the balls; I was just havin’ a bit of fun with her, scaring her a bit, y’know?’

  ‘Jesus, Matty, I know you’re an arsehole,’ Scott’s voice was dangerously low, ‘but she’s a fucking kid.’

  ‘What can I say, mate, I dig virgins. Had a taste for them ever since I fucked yours in high school.’

  Scott drew back his fist and slammed it into Matty’s nose with a sickening thud. Scott’s face was unrecognisable, ugly in its rage. I’d never seen him like this before. ‘Scott, don’t!’ I cried, but neither of them took any notice of me.

  ‘I don’t care how close you are to the cops,’ Scott said, ‘if I hear you’ve done anything like this again, I’m gonna fucking destroy you.’

  Matty gave a wet chuckle. ‘You’ve been wanting to do this ever since I moved in on your girlfriend, ha
ven’t you?’ His eyes changed for a second; there was a sudden vulnerability to his expression that I hadn’t seen on him before. Then it was gone again, and his sly smile returned. ‘Tell me, mate, were you ever able to live up to my performance, or were you only ever her sloppy seconds?’

  Scott gave a guttural roar and punched him again. ‘Go home, Layla!’ he yelled over his shoulder.

  I didn’t hesitate, running past them down the alley and onto the main street. Their grunts and the thud of fists on flesh followed me to my car. My whole body shook as I stabbed my key in the ignition and started the engine.

  *

  I sat in the car outside my house for a long time, trying to calm down. There was no way I could tell my parents what had happened or they’d completely freak out. They’d insist on going to the cops, and there was no way Matty’s brother and his colleagues would believe me over Glasswater Bay’s golden boy. I knew how things worked in this town. I’d end up being the one on trial, the one who was vilified and made out to be a slut. I couldn’t do that to my parents. I couldn’t do that to Scott, who would be dragged into it all with me.

  And as for Scott, the sudden change in him had been shocking. I’d felt the violence in his eyes, in his body, as a physical thing. It’d frightened me, even though I’d been the one he was defending. There’d been no satisfaction in watching him beat the shit out of Matty … it’d been chilling.

  I got out of the car and walked slowly up the path to the house. Mum was at the table, nursing a cup of tea and reading a magazine. ‘How was work?’ she asked as I went to the fridge to get the bottle of Coke.

  ‘It was OK.’ I took a swig from the bottle and sat down at the dining table with her.

  ‘Don’t drink out of the bottle, please, Layla, you’re not a street urchin.’

  I pulled a face behind her back as I got up again to get a glass.

  ‘Looking forward to Renmark?’

  I made a noncommittal sound. Every Easter since I was a little kid, we’d gone to stay at the river shack my grandparents owned in Renmark. There was nothing to do there other than swim in the chocolate-milk river or go yabbying with Dad, but we always had a good time. Part of me was looking forward to it, even though I knew I’d be bored out of my brain and desperate even to get home to Glasswater by the end of the weekend. After the encounter with Matty, the idea of returning to childhood traditions was comforting, even if it had been years since Zach and I had been interested in swimming in autumn or sitting on the riverbank for hours waiting to pull up yabby nets. But going away right after Scott had just done his best to break Matty’s face didn’t feel right either.

  ‘Hey, Mum,’ I said, my head still in the fridge as I replaced the Coke bottle. ‘Would you and Dad mind if I stayed home this weekend?’

  ‘But it’s Easter,’ Mum said after a pause. ‘We always go away for Easter.’

  ‘I know.’ I turned to face her. ‘But I’ve got exams coming up next term. I thought it could be an opportunity for me to knuckle down and study while the house is empty.’

  ‘There’s nothing stopping you from studying at the shack. This is our family time, Layla.’

  I sighed. ‘I’m sick of going to the shack every year. It’s boring and there’s nothing to do.’

  ‘You just said you needed to study, so you won’t need to worry about finding anything to do. How about you give it a chance?’

  ‘And how about you stop busting my balls!’ I exploded in frustration.

  ‘Layla!’

  ‘Well, sorry, but you’re the one who’s always going on at me about how important my education is, and now you expect me to cram myself into the tiny shack and try to concentrate while Zach annoys me.’

  Mum looked up at me, her face a little sad. ‘I don’t want you to be by yourself over Easter.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘I’m seventeen, Mum, not twelve.’

  ‘Less attitude, please. You may be seventeen, but that’s no excuse to be rude.’

  I sat back down at the table opposite her. ‘Sorry. I didn’t want to tell you, but I’ve been struggling a bit at school. I really need this time to catch up, get back on track.’

  Mum sighed. ‘I’d really like you to come, but I don’t want you to fall behind either. If your heart is set on spending the weekend studying, I won’t stop you.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum.’

  She looked wistful. ‘My little girl is growing up.’

  She rose to wash her cup in the sink before going to bed, and I remained at the table, nervous about the plan I’d set in motion. I wasn’t a little girl anymore. Scott had saved me twice now. I owed him.

  NOW

  The kids’ bickering had graduated to poking and pinching, and Layla’s anxiety had reached tipping point by the time she lined up the trolley at the checkout. They were seated side by side in the front of the trolley and it hadn’t taken long for the novelty of helping her choose the groceries to wear off.

  ‘Stop fighting or we’re not going to Grandma’s place,’ she said for the twentieth time, but she may as well have been talking to her handbag. Louis shoved Ella with his shoulder and she retaliated by grabbing a fistful of his hair in a death grip. He started yowling.

  Layla continued to unload the groceries onto the conveyer belt, outwardly calm while everything inside her was screaming to get out of there, to abandon the week’s worth of food (and maybe her children too) and run.

  ‘What’s this?’ broke in a gruff voice from behind them, and Louis and Ella abruptly went silent, staring at the man and woman who had joined the queue. The man had snatched a packet of chocolate biscuits from the woman and was holding it up in front of her face. ‘What are you buying this shit for?’

  The woman couldn’t have been much more than twenty-two; slim and pretty, dark hair and smoky eyes. She tittered nervously. ‘I just thought they’d be nice.’ The unnaturally high pitch of her voice made Layla’s stomach contract.

  ‘Until you get fat and ugly and then you’ll be stuffing your face with them every day.’ He spat the words at her with such contempt that the woman flinched.

  But she pasted on her bright smile again and sidled up to him, clinging to his arm. ‘Don’t be like that, honey. I only have one or two a week.’

  He looked down at her, his lip curling. ‘You want to turn into a fat slut, you go ahead. But don’t expect me to stick around.’

  The woman’s face coloured. Layla had the urge to grab her, to pull her away from him, tell her to run now while she still had the chance, before he swallowed all her self-esteem and she was stuck in his cage forever. It didn’t seem like so long ago that Layla had been that person, placing all of her value in other people’s opinions of her, staying in relationships with men who treated her badly, gulping down compliments to keep her going through the neglect, knowing the day would come when she would no longer be fuckable and then she’d be worth nothing.

  The man stared across the supermarket, his face still stormy. Layla knew his type: older, dominant, less attractive so he had to take her down a peg every day until all her self-worth was gone. She knew that if she tried to intervene, it would only make things worse for the woman later, and yet she remembered what it had been like to be in public with a man like this. The way people’s eyes slid away, the way no one was willing to really see what was happening. She remembered how alone she had felt. Checking that the man was still looking away, she made eye contact with the woman. Are you OK? she mouthed. The woman’s eyes darted away, then she gave an almost imperceptible nod. But Layla knew she wasn’t OK, knew that when she went home with this man, he would punish her in some way, maybe with his words, maybe with his fists. Maybe with unwanted sex. She knew all this from experience, knew that it was the words that left the deepest scars.

  The cashier called out her total, and Layla realised her shopping was already packed in the bags and waiting at the end of the checkout. She got out her credit card and moved over to pay. The children were still miraculously silent, per
haps unnerved by the chilling atmosphere the couple’s presence had cast over everyone around them. Layla lifted the bags into the trolley and began to push it towards the exit. When she turned once to look back, the woman was placing the packet of Tim Tams on top of the chewing gum on the shelf beside her.

  *

  Layla was still feeling uneasy when she and the kids arrived at Cam’s mother’s house for their fortnightly visit. The arrangement suited all of them: it gave the kids an afternoon of being spoilt, Cam’s mother, Ruth, got some much-needed company, and Layla got the chance to drink a whole cup of tea before it went cold.

  ‘Hello, my darlings!’ cried Ruth as she bent to hug both children at the door. ‘Would you like a milkshake?’ The kids nodded vigorously and ran off towards the kitchen. Ruth gave Layla a brief hug. ‘How are you, love?’

  ‘I’m good, Ruth, thank you.’ Layla liked her mother-in-law. She was a kind, generous woman who doted on her son and grandchildren, and she treated Layla with a warmth that had been missing between her own mother and her since she’d been a teenager. It was an uncomplicated relationship, and she looked forward to their visits.

  But while Ruth made the kids’ milkshakes and put the kettle on for tea, it was clear from the way she kept glancing at Layla that there was something she wanted to talk about. Once the kids were seated at the dining table with their drinks, she made eye contact with Layla across the bench.

  ‘Is everything all right with you, love?’ she asked gently.

  ‘Of course!’ Layla dunked her tea bag in her cup a little too energetically, and a bit of the tea slopped over the rim. Avoiding her mother-in-law’s eyes, she moved the cup aside and wiped away the brown ring with a washcloth.

  ‘Cameron told me you two had been having some problems.’

  Layla looked up. ‘He did?’ She knew Cam was close to his mother, and she’d always suspected he talked to her about their marriage on occasion, but the thought of him telling her that they had problems – real, tangible problems – made her feel chastised, as if she were a child.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Ruth said. ‘He’s not going to do anything drastic. He’s just worried about you. And I wanted to see if there was anything wrong.’