by Vivien Brown
‘And you were? Right for her, I mean.’
‘I thought so. And so did she, because she broke off the engagement just a week later. Dumped him for me. And her parents were not pleased, I can tell you. They’d known Sean and his family for years, the venue was booked and the invitations had gone out and everything.’
‘Oh my God! So, what did you do?’
‘Bided my time. All I could do really. They were hardly going to give us their blessing, were they? Change the name of the groom and go ahead with it all as if nothing had happened! No, they made us promise to stay apart. Six months, which felt like a lifetime I can tell you, but that would be long enough to bring us to our senses, or so they thought. And, if we still felt the same way after that …’
‘And did you?’
‘Well, obviously, or we wouldn’t be here now, would we? Or you and your sister certainly wouldn’t! No, we survived it all right, missed each other, wrote to each other secretly. I think, in a way, it made us stronger, made us more sure, you know. I wish sometimes I’d been more forceful about our Sarah, when she was in such a rush to marry Josh. We all knew it was too soon, but it was their choice, wasn’t it? Some time apart might have helped make things clearer, but they had a baby on the way, which changed things. Not something your mother and I had to bring into the equation. Not in those days!’
‘There have always been unplanned babies, Dad. They have a lot to answer for.’
‘They do indeed. Do you know, I’ve still got her letters somewhere. There’s something special about a real handwritten letter, isn’t there? Not like all this emailing and texting people do today. Your mum would probably think I was daft for keeping them, but I told you I can be a soppy old sod when the occasion demands.’ He lifted a hand and wiped it across his eyes. ‘Oh, I do miss her, Eve. You’ve no idea.’
‘The letters, Dad.’
‘What about them?
‘Would it surprise you to know that she kept yours too? I found them, at the back of her wardrobe, when I was sorting through her stuff after the funeral. I should have said something but I didn’t want to upset you, rake up old feelings so soon after …’
‘She kept them? All these years?’
‘She did.’
He gulped. ‘Where are they now? You didn’t throw them out, did you?’
‘No, Dad, of course I didn’t.’
He leaned over and turned off the TV. ‘Show me, Eve. I think I’d quite like to rake up old feelings now. Good feelings. And thank you.’
‘What for?’
‘For not throwing them away.’
***
I had to do it. Lucy was right. Sometimes the past does have to be dragged back up, confronted, put in its place. I had to talk to Arnie, in my own time, on my own terms. I needed to know what he remembered, whether he felt any remorse at all for what he had done to me, and that I could cope with knowing I might run across him at any moment.
It wasn’t really a conversation I wanted to have on school property, but I was far too much of a coward to just go and knock on his door. As it turned out, I didn’t have to do either. I was leaving work early one afternoon, with nothing but a check-up appointment with the dentist – Sarah’s old friend Tilly – to look forward to, and was about to climb into my car in the car park when I saw Janey walking out through the school gates with two other kids from the school. A girl, and an older boy. They were ambling along slowly, the girls chatting and giggling, the boy fiddling with a phone, the weight of too many books crammed into bags pulling their shoulders down on one side, when a tatty black estate car pulled up alongside and they clambered in. As he turned his head towards me I saw immediately that the driver was Arnie O’Connor. And, from the shocked look that flashed across his face as his eyes locked onto mine, I knew he had recognised me too.
The car drove away. I watched it, the two small heads through the back window, and the less distinct outline of the two bigger male heads in the front. So, that must have been Arnie’s children, and it looked as if Janey was going home with them. For tea? A homework session? A sleepover? Something about that unnerved me. I decided, there and then, to seek him out and have it out with him, before another member of my family got sucked into his orbit.
I came out of Tilly’s surgery an hour later, with a clean bill of oral health for another six months, a request to be remembered to my sister, and Arnie still on my mind. Usually, at five o’clock in the afternoon, I would still be at work, sorting out lesson plans or running an after-school club or getting into rehearsals for a school play, but my early finish had thrown my routine and I had a hankering for some sort of horribly unhealthy takeaway, a whole box of Maltesers to myself (because my well-behaved teeth deserved a sugary reward) and a marking-free evening in front of the TV.
The chip shop was already open and doing a good trade, mainly from kids still in school uniform whose parents were probably not home from work yet and had left them a fiver to feed themselves. A plate of ham salad and a bowl of fruit was no doubt the last thing on their minds, but who was I to talk, considering my own less than healthy food choices? I joined the queue, checking the prices on the board behind the counter and rummaging in my bag for my purse.
‘Eve? Eve Peters? It is you, isn’t it?’
I froze, my hand halfway back out of my bag, as his hand touched my arm. The voice was exactly the same as I remembered it and, when I turned around, so was the face. Arnie O’Connor. Had he followed me here? Or was it just one of life’s horrible coincidences?
‘Yes.’ My voice came out so small I could hardy hear my own reply.
‘I thought I saw you outside the school, in the teachers’ car park. Working there now, are you? I didn’t have you down as a teacher. Always thought you’d end up doing something, I don’t know, earth-shattering. Write a bestseller or become Poet Laureate or something. English always was your thing, I remember.’
He was smiling down at me. Arnie O’Connor, wrapped up in a big overcoat and with a stripy scarf draped around his neck, was smiling down at me, as if we were old friends, as if he knew me well enough to have worked out my whole future.
‘Arnie …’
‘That’s me. As I live and breathe. Well, what a surprise, running into you again after all these years. What must it be? God, we were what? Eighteen, when we last met? Half a lifetime ago! I can hardly believe it. How time flies.’
‘When you’re having fun?’ I couldn’t help the sarcasm creeping into my voice as I finished his sentence for him.
‘I suppose so, yes. Well, not all of it, obviously. Life’s had its ups and downs. And you? What have you been up to? You went off to uni and just disappeared off the face of the earth. I thought the old Welsh dragons must have gobbled you up.’ He laughed out loud, putting his hand on my arm again. I promptly shook it off.
‘I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while, actually.’ Was my voice shaking as much as my hands were?
‘Have you? What about? School stuff? Not my Becky playing up again, I hope? I’ve already been called up to see the Head once. It’s not always easy, being a single dad. To a teenaged girl, anyway. My lad’s not so bad. I understand him better, I suppose. Give him a football and he’s happy. Not the same with girls …’
‘Yes, Love?’ I had reached the front of the queue and the man in the white overalls was waiting, his big red hands splayed out on the counter that separated us. ‘What can I get you?’ Suddenly I had lost my appetite, but I ordered anyway, watching him select a piece of battered fish with his tongs, scoop up a mountain of chips and wrap it all up tightly in paper.
Arnie was ordering for four. No wife, so Janey must be staying for tea then? I hovered for a moment after paying, not quite ready to walk away on unfinished business, and soon we were both back outside on the pavement.
‘I don’t suppose you fancy coming round to mine and eating this lot together, do you? Sam’ll eat up in his room as always, and my Becky’s got a mate round, hogging the kitchen table wi
th all their school work. We’d get the dining room to ourselves. It would be good to catch up, and you did say you wanted to talk to me about something.’
My thoughts were whirring and buzzing around my head like bees. Arnie O’Connor was the last person on earth I wanted to spend time with, but I had made up my mind to have it out with him, and an opportunity had presented itself. Having Janey nearby would stop me from shouting at him or losing my temper, or maybe even hitting him, and somehow her being there made me feel safer. What was he going to do to me, after all, if Janey and his own kids were in the house? I bit down on my lip, closed my eyes for a second or two and then nodded. ‘Okay,’ I said and, with the Maltesers forgotten, we walked side by side past the corner shop, along the darkening street and up to Arnie’s front door.
The house was small and untidy, a pile of discarded trainers in the narrow hallway, assorted coats hooked over the end of the banisters, a bald patch in the stair carpet that looked like a cat had been clawing at it.
‘Food!’ Arnie called out, apparently to nobody in particular, as I followed him through into a small beige-coloured kitchen at the front of the house.
‘Auntie Eve!’ Janey leapt up from her place at the table and threw her arms around me. ‘What are you doing here?’ She pulled back and gazed up at me.
‘Just wanted to have a word with Rebecca’s dad, that’s all. And we happened to bump into each other.’
‘Auntie?’ Arnie looked at us curiously.
‘Janey’s my sister’s girl.’
‘Oh, Dad, you and Janey’s auntie aren’t … you know?’ Rebecca’s face crumpled in disgust. ‘Oh, you’re not, are you? Please tell me you’re not. That would be gross!’
Arnie leant into a cupboard for plates and grabbed a giant ketchup bottle from the fridge. ‘Not what, exactly?’
‘I think the girls are worried that we might be an item. You know, together, as in a couple.’ I looked at Janey. ‘Which, I hasten to add, Sweetheart, we most definitely are not!’
‘Almost were once though, eh, Eve?’ He gave a little laugh and nudged me on the arm, as if we were old friends, as if I would agree and laugh too. ‘We certainly had our moment, back in the day.’
I felt my insides churn as the memories flooded in. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Really? How about that party we went to? Whose was it? Not sure I remember now, but we did have a bit of fun there, I do remember that. And on the way home too!’ He winked at Janey and carried on unwrapping the food.
I heard Janey giggle, before her friend grabbed at the plates. ‘Dad! Stop being so embarrassing. It’s not funny, and I don’t think Miss Peters thinks so either.’
‘Oh, sorry, Eve. Should have kept my mouth shut, apparently. Honestly, kids act like they’re the parents these days. Don’t do this, don’t say that. Always embarrassed by what their mums and dads get up to.’ He laid his hand on his daughter’s head and ruffled her hair, grinning at her. ‘I bet nieces are pretty much the same. Anyone would think they were the only ones allowed to have any fun. Now, who wants vinegar?’
I felt the bile rise up in my throat, and it was all I could do not to be sick. Fun? Is that what he thought it had been? I already suspected his memories of that party were going to be nothing like mine. He had whitewashed them over, convinced himself it had all been just a lark, bigging it up into some kind of two-sided teenage romance.
‘Come on, Eve, we’ll take ours through into the other room. Wouldn’t want to upset the fun police. Call your brother down and tell him his dinner’s here, will you, Bex? Or run up and get him. It’s not as if he’ll hear you with the volume he has his music.’
I didn’t like it when he closed the door behind us. The dining room was small and square and soulless, just a dark wooden table and chairs, with worn table mats on three sides, and a brown glass bowl in the middle with two wrinkled apples in it. He plonked his plate down on one of the mats and pulled a chair out for me to sit as I did the same.
‘So, what did you want to talk to me about?’ I watched him sprinkle salt from a white plastic shaker all over his meal and shook my head as he offered it to me. ‘Becky’s been playing up at school again?’
‘Not as far as I’m aware. No, I wanted to talk about us.’
‘Us? I didn’t know there was an us. As you’ve just made one hundred per cent clear to your niece.’ He pushed a lump of fish into his mouth and waited for me to reply.
‘You. Me. All those years ago. The party …’
‘Ah, so you do remember? I was beginning to think I’d got my girls mixed up and it must have been someone else.’
‘There were others then? Other girls you grabbed and mauled and—’ I gathered all my strength to say the words, pushed back my chair and stood up, my face just inches away from his as I bent down to look him in the eyes. ‘And tried to rape?’
I don’t know what I expected. Shock, denial, anger … What I didn’t expect was Arnie putting down his fork and spluttering little crumbs of golden batter across the table as he flung his head back and laughed.
‘Raped? What on earth are you talking about? We had a bit of a fumble, that’s all. And not a particularly enjoyable one as you suddenly ran off in the middle of it, as I recall. Talk about leading a bloke on! A prick tease, that’s what they used to call girls like you.’
‘How dare you? Have you never heard of consent? Of asking before you shove your tongue down a girl’s throat or your hands down her knickers?’
‘Oh, come on, Eve. We’d both had a few, we were having a bit of fun. A snog, a bit of a feel, seeing where it might lead. Everyone did it …’
‘Not to me, they didn’t!’
‘I’m not surprised, with an attitude like that. Frigid as the bloody North Pole, that’s what you were. Probably still are, as you’re evidently still a Miss after all these years. Typical spinster school teacher.’ Another blob of food flew out of his mouth as he raised his voice and as good as spat the words at me. ‘No man good enough or brave enough to take you on?’
The teasing, jokey father he had been just moments before disappeared before my eyes, and the real Arnie was back, taunting me, that same cold hard look in his eyes that I remembered so well. The two faces of Arnie O’Connor. All charm and bonhomie on the surface, but if Arnie didn’t get his way, if Arnie was challenged, he didn’t like it one bit. Never had.
I couldn’t stay a moment longer. Lucy had been right. I had needed to confront him, but staying out of his way from now on was definitely the right policy. The man was an absolute bastard. No wonder his wife had left. I tugged at the door and, with as much dignity as I could muster, I stepped back into the hall, pleased that I was still wearing my coat and didn’t have to stop to find it on my way out.
Janey and Rebecca looked up as I passed the kitchen door.
‘You okay, Auntie Eve?’ Janey said, standing up and about to come towards me, an open book still in her hand.
‘Fine, Janey, Love. But I won’t be staying for tea.’ I looked at her worried face and shivered. I really didn’t like the idea of leaving her here. ‘Don’t be too long now. Your mum will want you home.’
She looked at me strangely. ‘I’m staying the night. Mum knows.’
‘I see.’
‘She’ll be fine, Eve.’ Arnie had followed me out into the tiny hall and he was so close I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. ‘Leave her alone. Don’t make her a part of this … this nonsense.’ His voice dropped so only I could hear him. ‘What is it? Time of the month? Hormones playing up, turning you into some kind of drama queen? Just stop making ridiculous accusations, okay? I’m no rapist and never have been. Don’t make a scene.’
‘A scene?’ I muttered under my breath, but I managed to open the front door and escape to the step without saying what I would have liked to. ‘You really are a piece of work, aren’t you?’
‘And you are quite clearly off your rocker. Now go off back to your sad, lonely, pathetic little life and take you
r wild fantasies with you. I have my tea to finish, and if you don’t want yours I’m sure my Sam can polish it off for you. He’s a growing lad. Goodnight, Eve.’
The door closed firmly and, as I looked back at the kitchen window hoping to check on Janey, the blinds came crashing down too. Suddenly all I wanted to do was scream, just as I should have done the night he attacked me. Things might have worked out very differently if only I’d had the courage back then. To tell someone, to talk about it, to fight back. But it was too late for any kind of justice now.
The lights were still on in the corner shop, so I went in and bought the Maltesers, and the biggest bottle of red wine I could find. If I was going back to my sad and lonely existence, as Arnie had called it, I might as well take my pleasures where I could.
Chapter 26
SARAH
I threw him out. Well, what else could I do? I’d let him off the hook the first time. Eve had assured me it was over, and I had reluctantly decided to believe her, so what good would it have done to start creating hell over something that was already in the past? Still, I had been tormenting myself for too long with mental images of them together, raging at Eve when she was just one half of the problem, yet refusing to confront my own husband. I had been weak and cowardly, and too scared of the unknown divorce-shaped void I could be chucking myself into to do anything about it. But now he was at it again …
I knew he must be. Colin would have had no reason to make it up, to lie to me about something so important, so damning. And men didn’t disappear into hotel bedrooms with strange women in the middle of late-night parties just to have a chat or play Scrabble, did they? This time I had to say something, do something. I didn’t need Colin to tell me what I already knew.
Janey was staying at her friend Becky’s, so I had the whole evening and the freedom to tell him that I knew and that I wasn’t going to put up with it anymore, to shout and scream, pull the suitcases down onto the bed, rip his shirts to shreds and scratch his bloody eyes out if I felt like it, without her being there to see it. It was Janey who had held me back before. Her happiness, her security, her future had been at risk, just as much as my own. But how could she be truly happy if her parents continued to live this way? I would explain things the best I could, reassure her that we both still loved her but were finding it hard to love each other right now. I’d seen the articles in magazines, the problem page letters. I knew the score. Far better to have two calm and loving homes than live in the battlefield of a fragile, hostile one. And that was what our family life had become lately. Or more like a no-man’s land, where we both knew we were at war but trod carefully around each other, pretending otherwise.