The Woman in the Peacock Patterned Coat

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The Woman in the Peacock Patterned Coat Page 15

by Jennifer Jones


  But she struggled away from him. ‘No … no … you don’t understand. I never saw him … You caught him while I was away, in Wales, you had enough evidence against him, you persuaded him to plead guilty so I, so none of his victims would have to go to court. But I never saw him … and in my mind I’ve created a monster, a bogeyman … I want to see a photo of him. I want to know who he is.’

  ‘A-all right. I can arrange that for you, if you’re sure.’ He remembered something. Taking out his mobile phone he scrolled back through dozens of photographs. It was still there, he hadn’t deleted it.

  ‘You remember Joe Maguire’s cousin, George? He sent me this photo, taken that night in a nearby pub – it was what helped us to identify him in the first place. Here.’

  She studied the photograph for several minutes. A tall, heavily built man, with short, dark hair, a large, square-jawed face, large nose, thin lips. ‘He looks so ordinary,’ she said.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, wondering if that wouldn’t make things worse.

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Evan Somerset. He’s from north London, Crouch End. He’s thirty-three, he worked as a motor mechanic.’

  She handed the phone back. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Has that helped?’ he asked gently.

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe. A bit. Let it sink in.’

  He nodded. ‘Lie down with me. Let me hold you.’

  For some time they lay in silence, Neil gently stroking her hair. He wondered if she had fallen asleep, but then she said,

  ‘Brian must think I’m a complete idiot.’

  ‘Then more fool him.’

  ‘I wanted so much to make a good impression. With all your family.’

  ‘We haven’t seen much of Mum and Dad today, have we? But tomorrow and the next few days, there’ll be more of a chance. Then you can dazzle them, win them over with your kind heart, and your good manners, and your gentle, sweet-natured personality …’ He was grinning, and she gave him a little push. ‘Neil, stop it! You’re making me sound like someone out of “Little Women”!’

  ‘But it’s all true,’ he protested. Working her top up, he felt for and caressed one of her nipples, enjoying how it immediately went hard in his hand, the gasp of pleasure she gave. ‘So you think my brother has a nice bottom?’ he murmured.

  She smiled. ‘There’s a very strong likeness between you and him.’

  ‘We have the same bottom?’

  Now she laughed. ‘I meant facially. There’s such a strong similarity. It’s easy to see the two of you are related.’

  His hand moved down her body, lingered at the top of her thigh, his finger tracing out circles on the fabric of her skirt. ‘Well, seeing as you once told me you thought he was hot, I’ll take that as a huge compliment.’

  ‘Strictly speaking, I never actually said that. I might have thought it …’ Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. ‘Neil …’

  ‘Yes …’

  He rose, helped her out of her clothes, removed his own. Afterwards, he cradled her in his arms until she fell asleep. Much later again, he got up, pulled on his shorts, and went to the kitchen for a drink of water.

  Brian was sitting at the counter, glancing through a magazine.

  ‘Oh … I wasn’t expecting anyone to still be up.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Neil,’ Brian smirked. ‘I’ve seen men in less than their underwear before.’

  ‘That’s very funny, Brian.’ Neil looked through cupboards until he found a tumbler, then filled it from the tap.

  Brian watched him. ‘How’s Janey?’

  ‘She’s fine. She’s asleep.’

  ‘How do you do it, bro? I mean, she’s no Diana, is she?’

  ‘Considering you were always so critical of Diana, that should have sounded like a compliment.’

  ‘Well at least Diana kept her own name.’

  ‘Why is that such a big deal for you?’ Neil smiled sardonically. ‘Well, let me tell you something about that. Diana’s name – Worthington-Smythe – marked the union of two extremely wealthy families. Of course she was going to keep it. And as a matter of fact, when we got married, she wanted me to take it too.’ He saw Brian’s face. ‘Yes, that might seem funny now, but it wasn’t at the time. My refusal caused our first major row. She said while I professed to adhere to feminist principles, when it came down to it, I was just as hidebound as the next man. And I learnt how … unpleasant she could be when she didn’t get her own way.’

  ‘Neil! You don’t mean … violence?’

  ‘I mean – sulking, frosty silences, the … withdrawal of her affection. Anyway, Janey wants to take my name. I can’t pretend I don’t like that, of course I like it, but it’s her choice.’

  ‘OK. OK.’

  Neil drained his glass, rinsed it out. ‘When I first saw Janey, she had run to the assistance of a young man who had been gunned down in the street. There was this huge crowd gathered around, just standing there watching, her useless lump of a husband wanting nothing more than to be at home in his bed, but she … she held him, this boy, comforted him, sang to him … until he died in her arms. It was the most beautiful, the most selfless act, I had – have – ever seen.’ He looked into Brian’s eyes. ‘She was so fearless.’

  Brian tried to equate that image with a woman who ran screaming from monsters on the TV. ‘So what happened?’ he asked softly.

  Neil was silent for so long, Brian felt he must somehow have not heard the question.

  ‘Neil …?’

  ‘She was raped.’

  ‘Oh my God … who by?’

  ‘Someone unknown to her. A predator in the dark …’

  ‘How terrifying for her …’

  ‘Yes. It’s … it’s hit her really hard. And now – she’s so afraid. Things you and I take for granted, Brian – opening the door to go out into the street, taking a train – are a terrible ordeal for her, it exhausts her just getting through a normal day. She can’t work, she can’t go shopping …’ Tears rolled down his cheeks. ‘It’s crippling her, and it’s tearing me apart. But I can’t show her that. I have to be strong for her. I’m all she has.’

  ‘I … I don’t know what to say …’

  ‘There’s nothing you can say.’ Neil wiped at his face. ‘Just … just go a bit easy with her, OK?’

  Janey woke the next day to find herself alone. She looked at the clock – half the morning had gone. Why hadn’t Neil woken her? She pulled on some jeans and a T-shirt and went in search of him.

  Instead she found Brian sitting at the kitchen counter drinking coffee.

  ‘Where is everyone?’

  ‘Well, Caro’s gone for a run, and Neil’s taken Mum and Dad to the local garden centre for a few things. So it’s just you and me, I’m afraid.’ He smiled. ‘There’s still some coffee in the pot, if you want some.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She poured herself a cup, then said,

  ‘Brian, we haven’t got off to a good start, and that’s my fault. I … I’m all over the place at the moment, I …’

  ‘I know the reason for that. Neil told me. And I’m sorry.’

  ‘W-what did he tell you?’

  ‘Do I have to say it? That you were raped. Why? What else might he have told me?’

  ‘Nothing. Still, I wish he hadn’t told you that. I don’t want your pity. I don’t want to be the woman who was raped.’

  ‘Then stop being her!’

  Janey rocked back in shock. ‘What?’

  ‘Look, Janey … I know this horrible thing has happened to you … I can’t imagine … I can’t even begin to imagine, what it was like, to endure such a thing … but don’t you see? Every day you continue to be a victim is one more day that man has won. He took what he wanted, why let him keep on taking it, day after day?’

  ‘Right. You think – it’s that simple? You think – I should just wake up one morning and say, “Enough. No more being a victim.” Don’t you think, if it was that simple, I’d have done that weeks ago, instead of
putting Neil through this hell?’ She started crying. ‘Oh, God! Sometimes … sometimes I get so angry, I think, yes, I can do this, and I storm outside, ready to take on the world. And then … something happens … a look, a wolf whistle … and all that bravado disappears, it simply melts away, and I’m left there, alone and exposed …’ She couldn’t go on. She stood there, gulping for breath, tears streaming down her cheeks, and that was when Eric walked into the room. Immediately he rounded on his son.

  ‘What have you said to her now?’

  ‘Oh, that’s right!’ Brian exploded. ‘Paint me the bad guy!’ He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

  Eric reached out tentatively and gave her a hug.

  ‘D-don’t be too hard on Brian,’ she sobbed. ‘He was only trying to help.’

  ‘And making a complete hash of it, it would seem. Janey … I can tell that something’s the matter, and whatever you want to tell me, or not tell me, that’s up to you. But – look, Denise wants to start getting lunch ready, and there’s a whole load of plants that need getting in. I could do with the help.’

  ‘I’d love to help. Where … where’s Neil?’

  ‘He’s outside, talking to our next door neighbour. He wants to help with the cooking. Of course – if you’d prefer …’

  ‘No … no. Too many cooks and all that. Let’s get that gardening done.’

  While they worked, Janey told Eric about the rape, some of the difficulties she was having, how she was trying to overcome them, and he listened sympathetically. Then they talked about other things, what Neil was like as a child, family holidays they had taken, what his and Denise’s plans were now that he had retired. When they had finished, Janey said,

  ‘It’s been lovely, Eric, talking with you like this, getting to know you better. It means so much to me, becoming a part of your family, Neil’s family. And-and-and I was wondering … I was wondering if … if I could call you and Denise, Mum and Dad?’

  ‘Of course you may. I’d like that. I can’t answer for Denise, though. You’ll have to ask her yourself.’

  Janey went to her room to freshen up for lunch. When she came to the table she was dressed in a pink bouclé skirt that reached to just above her knees, and a cream silk blouse.

  ‘You didn’t need to change,’ said Brian. ‘We don’t stand on ceremony here.’

  ‘I-I couldn’t come to lunch in clothes dirty from the garden.’ To her dismay she realised that’s exactly what Caroline had done, or rather, she was still wearing the tracksuit bottoms and T-shirt she had gone running in.

  ‘Well I think she looks very nice,’ said Eric.

  Janey beamed. ‘Thanks, Dad.’

  Neil looked at her in surprise, but Brian said,

  ‘Dad? Have I wandered into some 50’s sitcom by mistake? He’s not your Dad. Your Dad is your Dad.’

  Janey looked down at her plate. She started fiddling with her cutlery.

  ‘Leave it, Brian,’ Neil said.

  Janey raised her head, looking straight into Brian’s eyes. ‘I don’t have a Dad, Brian. My parents died when I was just a little girl.’

  Brian had the grace to look ashamed. ‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered.

  ‘Christopher …’ Eric said slowly. ‘I knew I’d heard that name before. It’s an unusual name, isn’t it? I said that. But a Janey Christopher who lost her parents when she was just a little girl – that has to be unique.’

  Janey looked into his face. She saw the affection that had been there die away, to be replaced with worry, mistrust, fear. She stumbled to her feet. ‘No … oh, no …’ Then she turned and ran from the room.

  ‘And there she goes again,’ said Brian.

  ‘Keep out of this Brian.’ Neil turned to his father. ‘What did you have to bring that up for? As if she doesn’t have enough …’

  ‘What have you brought into this family?’ his father said coldly.

  ‘What?!’

  ‘You know exactly what I’m talking about.’

  Neil tried to laugh. ‘Is this a joke? You’re not seriously …’

  ‘It can run in the family, son. She’s around the age where it can first show, and a traumatic event can be the trigger. And some of what she tells me she’s experiencing … those could be the first symptoms …’

  ‘She’s got agoraphobia … she’s not delusional, she doesn’t …’

  ‘You need to have her checked out, Neil.’

  ‘I need …? This is unbelievable!’ He stood up. ‘I will not … I will not have Janey put through that just to prove a negative!’

  ‘Would one of you mind telling the rest of us what on earth you’re talking about?’ Brian asked.

  Neil rounded on him. ‘You know what Brian? It’s none of your fucking business!’

  Eric stood too. ‘I will not have that language used in this house! Apologise to your mother right this instant!’

  The two men glared at each other. Then Neil raised his hands in a gesture of defeat. ‘I’m sorry, Mum, for using bad language. I’m sorry that your lovely lunch has been ruined. And now, if you’ll all excuse me, I’m going to my wife.’

  In their room, Janey had hauled the suitcase on to the bed and was throwing clothes into it haphazardly.

  ‘Good. You’re packing. Here …’ he took a bundle of clothes from her and arranged everything more neatly. Shaking his head, he said,

  ‘I don’t understand him – Dad – he’s always been so reasonable, so level-headed …’

  ‘It’s mental illness, Neil. People are afraid of it, especially when it involves … when it involves violence, knives. But I’m not like my mother! I’m not!’

  ‘I’ve never thought that. Not for a minute.’

  ‘No.’ She smoothed his hair, kissed him on the cheek. ‘It’s why I was always fostered, you know, why I was never adopted. So people could hand me back, if I started to show signs …’

  ‘Oh, Janey, you can’t know that.’

  ‘It makes sense though, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said sadly. ‘It makes sense. Janey, I’m so sorry. This trip, it was meant to show you that you’re part of a loving family, that there are other people than me who are there to care for you, and keep you safe. And instead …’

  ‘And instead I’ve caused this terrible rift with your brother and your father.’

  ‘It’s not your fault! You have to stop blaming yourself for everything …’

  ‘But it is, Neil! If I hadn’t said that to Brian … But I wanted him to feel bad … Well, look at where that got me. Of course your father was going to work it out … it happened less than twenty miles from here, after all.’

  ‘What?’ He gaped at her. ‘I … I somehow had it fixed in my mind that you were from Liverpool.’

  ‘Yes, I lived there for a while, like I once told you. But I was born this side of Sheffield.’

  ‘This side of … So yesterday … you let me drive you all over those hills, and you didn’t say anything?’

  ‘Because you were so excited about showing me the sights, and I knew if I told you we wouldn’t have gone. And I’m glad we went, the scenery was amazing.’

  ‘Did we … did we go through the town? Village?’

  She nodded. ‘But Neil, I was five years old. If we passed the house I don’t remember it. And to tell you the truth I was a little bit curious, kind of detached, wondering how much the place had changed in twenty years. The memory … of what my mother did … is still vivid, of course it is, but the place itself meant nothing to me. OK?’

  ‘OK.’ But he still looked unhappy.

  She zipped up the suitcase, crossed to the wardrobe, where she put on her jacket. It was a short, waist-length jacket, matching her skirt, fastening down the front with three large, cloth-covered buttons.

  Watching her shook Neil out of his mood. ‘I haven’t seen that outfit before?’

  ‘No. After that disastrous attempt at going on the Tube, Zara took me to my favourite charity shop in Tooting Bec to cheer me up.
This caught my eye.’

  ‘Yes, it is … very eye-catching.’ It was a return to her old style of dressing and he felt a slight lifting of his spirits. ‘Add a pill-box hat and you’d look just like Jackie Onassis, only ten times more gorgeous.’ He took her in his arms, held her close, breathing in her perfume, bending his head so he could feel the soft touch of her hair against his cheek. Then he straightened up. ‘We’d better go.’

  ‘I’d like to say a few words to your father first.’

  ‘All right.’

  They went back out to the dining room. Denise’s plate was untouched, but the other three appeared to have eaten heartily. From the curious looks Brian and Caroline gave Janey, Neil could tell that his father had told them the whole story. He pursed his lips.

  ‘Eric,’ Janey said, ‘I want to tell you about my mother. You might say I couldn’t possibly remember things properly that happened such a long time ago, but I do, as clearly as if they happened yesterday. How she would walk around the house, having conversations with people I couldn’t see – because I thought I was the one at fault, not being able to see who she was talking to. Sometimes the conversations would turn into arguments, and she’d shut herself in the bedroom – there’d be shouting, laughing, more often than not this dreadful wailing. Or she’d be talking to you, something simple like, “the sun is hot today” – then she’d take a word from that sentence and make another sentence, totally unrelated – “I wonder does the shop down the road have any hot cross buns?”, “I’m so cross that …” and so on and so on. I thought it was funny, that she was playing some sort of game, and I’d try to join in, but it wasn’t funny, it was part of her illness.’ She took a deep breath. ‘There’s more, but what I’m trying to say is, I’ve seen madness at first hand, and I know, I’m not like that. All right, I’m having some problems, but they can be fixed, it’s not what my mother had. And I know, I know that your son – your beautiful, precious son, who is my whole world, who means more than the world to me, your son is safe with me.’

  Denise and Caroline had tears in their eyes, but Eric looked at her stony-faced. ‘Then why not, for everyone’s peace of mind, have yourself checked out?’

 

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