143

by Jade Winters

  "Do you think your mother knows?"

  "No, she'd be the last to find out anything. She only has one purpose in life, and that's to serve him."

  "I'm sorry it ended like this," Isabel said sincerely. She hated to see the perpetrator's family suffer. They were just as much victims as the victims themselves. She squeezed Genevieve's shoulder in a show of support and left the room. Walking quickly through the corridors she exited the building and made her way to her car. Charlie was in the driving seat.

  "Rebecca confirmed it. It's Eddie Simmons. Let's go." Charlie drove the car slowly out of the car park and increased his speed when he merged into the traffic. The two officers barely spoke; Isabel was locked in a world of her own as she tried to make sense of the evening's events. She had been more than certain that Paul was responsible for attacking Genevieve, and was flabbergasted to have found out that it was in fact the father. He'd shown no signs of guilt, nor appeared in any way nervous when Isabel had called at the house. He was either a psychopath or a very good actor. What he'd put Genevieve through was cruel; but then to nearly beat Rebecca to death? The man had some serious anger issues.

  "Well, at least we can put this baby to sleep now," Charlie said, interrupting her thoughts.

  "Uh-huh. Charlie, can I ask you a question?"

  "Sure," he said, keeping his eyes on the road in front of him.

  "I want you to answer me honestly. I promise I won't be offended." She turned in her seat to look at him.

  "No pressure then," he said jokingly.

  "You have a daughter right? How would you feel if — when she got older — she told you she was gay?" He was thoughtful for a few moments.

  "You want the truth?" he said, looking at her for a second.

  "Yes."

  "Well, I wouldn't be over the moon — and I'll tell you why. I think you have to be a certain kind of person to carry that burden. I mean, even though it seems like people are more accepting of homosexuality, deep down they're still uncomfortable with it. I think it's because people can't get their heads around it, and that scares them. I would be frightened for my daughter to live in a world where people resent you just for being different and where, if she wasn't strong enough, she would have to live her life in the shadows or might not have a family to share her life with. I don't know, Izzie, I mean, no offence to you, but the thought of my daughter living her life with a cat for comfort scares the living daylights out of me!" She punched him on the arm playfully.

  "Hey, you leave Manson out of it, and it's not only lesbians who live alone with their cats, believe it or not," she said.

  "Yeah I know," he said grinning, "but a lot of them do." They laughed and fell into a comfortable silence.

  * * *

  Genevieve's parents' house was dark when they pulled up outside it.

  "I'm not looking forward to this," Isabel said, unbuckling her seat belt.

  "Would you like me to take care of it alone?"

  "No, I don't think he's going to be any trouble. He only seems to pick on defenceless women, and if there's one thing I'm not, it's defenceless." She got out of the car and Charlie followed suit. They walked up the pathway and knocked on the door. After waiting several moments, she banged again. This time the light in the hallway went on.

  "Who is it?" Elsie called from inside.

  "DC Smith, Mrs Simmons." She heard the rattling of the chain being unlocked and the door slowly opened to reveal Elsie standing in her nightgown, obviously having just woken up.

  "What is it? What's happened?" she asked, panic stricken. "Is it Genevieve?"

  "No, she's fine, Mrs Simmons. We're here to see your husband." Elsie's face broke into confusion.

  "Eddie? Why do you want to see Eddie?"

  "Can we come in, Mrs Simmons?" Isabel asked. "Is your husband home?"

  "He's in there," she said, pointing to the front room. "What's this about?" she asked again. Isabel looked at Charlie, and they formed a plan in unspoken words. Isabel would go in first, and Charlie would be her backup if he got out of hand. She slowly pushed the door open into the darkened room. In the light coming in from the passage, she could see the outline of his body sitting in a chair. She kept her eyes on his figure while she let her hand search the wall for the light switch and turned it on. His only movement was to put a glass full of whiskey to his mouth, drink deeply, and place it back on the table, empty.

  "Mr Simmons," Isabel said authoritatively, moving to stand in front of him. "I'm arresting you for the attempted murder of Genevieve Simmons and Rebecca Sheldon. You do not have to say anything..." She had to raise her voice above Elsie's, who began shouting frantically from the passage as she heard her husband being read his rights.

  "What's she talking about? Eddie what have you done? Eddie?" she screamed hysterically. Charlie was blocking her from entering the room.

  "Will you stand up?" Isabel said to Eddie, who only sat there impassively. He made no attempt to move and offered no resistance as she went behind him and with a swift movement bent him forward, handcuffing his arms behind him. She grabbed him roughly under his arm and heaved his massive bodyweight off the chair. As they walked into the passage, Elsie ran at him.

  "What did you do, Eddie? What did you do?" His facial expression changed from that of impassive to one of disdain.

  "Oh shut up, you stupid bitch!" he spat at her.

  "Don't you speak like that to me, you hear me," she said, her small hands rolled into fists, pounding on his chest but making no impact at all. "Tell me what you've done," she screamed.

  "Take him to the car," Isabel said, gently taking hold of Elsie by her arms and leading her sobbing toward the kitchen. "Can I make you some tea?" Isabel asked, sitting her down.

  "No, I just want to know what he's done. What did you mean by what you said?"

  "Mrs Simmons, Genevieve's memory has restored itself and she was able to tell us who her perpetrator was." She hesitated. "Also, this evening, your husband attacked Ms Sheldon in her apartment and left her for dead." The colour drained from Elsie's face.

  "Is she going to be alright?" she asked unsteadily. Isabel wasn't sure if the question was asked because she was concerned about Rebecca or about what charges would be brought against her husband.

  "It seems so."

  "This is all my fault," she mumbled to herself. "It's my fault; it's in my blood. I made her this way." Isabel couldn't make sense of what she was saying.

  "Is there anyone I can call for you?" Isabel asked.

  Elsie kept mumbling, and Isabel suspected that she was practically on the verge of a nervous breakdown. "Is there anyone I can call, Mrs Simmons?" she repeated, but Elsie simply sat there in shock. Isabel went into the front room and poured a little whiskey into the glass Eddie had been drinking from, making her way back to the kitchen with it. She noticed a telephone pad on the table in the passage and picked it up as she walked past. Putting the whiskey in Elsie's hands, she encouraged her to take a sip as she looked up Paul's number in the book and dialled it from her mobile phone. After several rings he answered. She didn't bother with any formalities.

  "Paul, this is Isabel. Mr Simmons has been arrested for the attack on Genevieve." She heard him gasp. "As you can imagine, Mrs Simmons is not taking it too well, and I don't really want to leave her alone...." She didn't need to say any more.

  "I'm on my way," he said, and the line went dead.

  "Why did he do it?" Elsie said to the empty space. "Why would he hurt our little girl? Why?" Tears were streaming down her face. "We never hurt anyone, why couldn't they just leave us alone? If they'd left us alone, this wouldn't have happened." Isabel pulled up a chair in front of Elsie.

  "If who had left you alone, Mrs Simmons?"

  "People. Why do we live in fear of what people think of us?" She turned her gaze to Isabel focusing on her face. "How many lives are ruined because we don't follow our own paths? How many?" She sipped again at the whiskey, seemingly in a daze. Isabel was relieved when she finally h
eard footsteps in the passage. She never thought she'd be so pleased to see Paul. He drew Elsie into his arms and let her weep on his shoulder. His face was an open book: confusion, pain, loss — it was there for everyone to see. He really does care about this family, Isabel thought.

  "What police station are you taking him to?" Paul asked. "I'll arrange a solicitor for him." She told him where they were heading. "All this time you thought it was me, didn't you?" he said to her as he walked her to the front door.

  "We aren't clairvoyants, Paul. We do get it wrong sometimes. And I'm sorry when we do." He stopped her and looked at her.

  "I really do love Gen, you know. I never stopped. I had this fantasy of becoming a great, successful artist, in the hope that she would love me again someday. I never meant for all this to happen." Isabel looked at him and felt genuine sympathy for the man.

  "We can't help who we are, Paul. We can try to be someone else, but at the end of the day, the real you is always the one you end up going to bed with and waking up to. We can't hide behind a mask indefinitely." She walked back to the car and heard the door close behind her.

  And in that instant it quietly came to her. Amy wasn't a lesbian any more than Genevieve was straight — but it had taken this case to finally see that. In the same way that Genevieve had to be true to herself, so did Amy. She looked up toward the sky and smiled at her imaginary god.

  "Sly boots," she said to him. "You didn't have to put me through all this to make me get the message!" She shook her head at him and got into the car.

  CHAPTER 26

  THE FOUR WOMEN were sitting on Rebecca and Genevieve's bed laughing.

  "And the saddest thing is that Paul really did think he could turn me straight." Genevieve smiled.

  "He's one crazy fool," Tia said, mimicking Mr T. The laughing petered out when Isabel's phone rang, and the women looked at her, trying to read her face.

  "The jury has gone out to deliberate," she said, her tone serious. "Charlie is going to phone as soon as the verdict comes in; he thinks it will be today." Rebecca gently pulled Genevieve into her arms. She kissed her on top of her head. There was nothing she could say to her that would ease the pain. Her father had been charged with grievous bodily harm for his attack on Genevieve, and with attempted murder for the attack on Rebecca. Genevieve's mum walked through the door carrying a tray of hot chocolate.

  "It's like having four children with you lot," she said jovially, before becoming aware of the sombre atmosphere.

  "The jury is out, Mum," Genevieve said. Elsie put the tray down on a side cabinet. She had mixed feelings about the news. She'd only seen Eddie once since he was arrested, and she'd realised in that instant what kind of a monster she had dedicated her life to. That he would harm their daughter, and leave her lying on the street like a piece of rubbish...

  During her visit, Eddie had accused her of being responsible for the way Genevieve turned out, mocking her for her lack of interest in their lovemaking.

  "I wouldn't be surprised if you were one of them yourself," he'd snarled at her. She had just sat there and let him hurl abuse at her.

  "Have you finished," she'd asked, eventually. "You are the vilest creature I have ever had the misfortune to meet. You want to talk about our lovemaking? Sometimes your pathetic attempts were so juvenile; I thought the police might arrest me for having sex with a minor. You are just a nobody trying to be a somebody. But this is it, Eddie," she'd said quietly and firmly. "You are what you see every day in the mirror, and it's never going to get any better than that. I hope they lock you up for life and throw away the key." And then she had stood up and turned and walked away, despite his pleading for her to come back. It had taken a long time for her to see how controlling he was, but now it was like she had stepped out from beneath a veil and seen him for what he really was. He'd since written to her non-stop, apologising for his behaviour, and when she didn't reply, he had even sent Paul round to talk to her, but she'd had enough of people trying to control her life. She'd put the house on the market and managed to sell it, despite Eddie's interference. He'd thought that she had needed him, but he couldn't have been further from the truth.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her daughter lovingly. She had so many regrets, but her daughter was not one of them. Genevieve had grown up to be a fighter, a leader — not a follower. She had followed her heart, even against the odds, and Rebecca had stood by her steadfastly, even when she'd thought Genevieve was going to marry Paul. Looking at them both so happy now, Elsie wondered sadly how different her own life could have been. Genevieve mistook her look of sadness as a reflection on Eddie's court case, and went to cuddle her.

  "Don't worry, Mum, we'll always be here for you."

  "I know love," she said, and stroked her face before changing the subject. "Get your drinks down you, girls, before they get cold."

  Some hours later, Isabel's phone rang again. The women braced themselves; they knew this was it.

  "Okay Charlie, thanks for letting me know." Isabel shook her head in disgust. The system had let them down. "He got four years. His barrister managed to strike a deal for him, and he got his sentence slashed for agreeing to attend anger-management classes." Though the other women were shocked, Isabel wasn't. It wouldn't have surprised her if he had walked out of the court a free man with no more than a suspended sentence. In her opinion, the courts were a joke and things were becoming worse, especially for women who were the victims of violence. One only had to open a newspaper to see cases of men who were being released and then going on to victimise and sometimes murder the women who had helped them put away.

  Genevieve and Rebecca didn't want to think about what his early release would mean for them, or for Elsie. That was a thought for another day. Today they would live in the present. If there was one thing they had all learnt over the past few months, it was that you should never take anything for granted. Life could change in an instant.

  CHAPTER 27

  ELSIE WAS IN GOOD humour as she busily pulled clothes off the rack, looking for an outfit. Genevieve and Rebecca's civil partnership was taking place the following week and her wardrobe was terribly out of date. She reached for a white blouse at the same time as another customer and laughed.

  "I'm sorry," the women said in unison. As their eyes met, the blouse dropped to the floor in their confusion — although they'd both aged, there was instant recognition between them. They said one another's names at the same time, and then both laughed, embarrassed.

  "My god, how long has it been?" Nancy said, looking at the woman who'd broken her heart over thirty years ago.

  "Long," Elsie laughed, blushing.

  "How are you? How have you been?" Nancy enquired.

  "Fine, and yourself?" asked Elsie shyly.

  "Can't complain," Nancy said, with an easy smile. There was an awkward silence for a few moments before they both began to speak at once.

  "You first," Nancy said apologetically.

  "I was just going to ask you if you finished your degree?"

  "Yes, actually I did, though at another university. Did you ever go back?"

  "Oh, no," Elsie replied hurriedly. "I got married and had a child."

  "I see," Nancy said, her eyes noting Elsie's ringless finger. "Still married?" she asked raising her eyebrow. Something inside of Elsie wanted to lie and tell her that yes, she was, that it was a wonderful marriage and she had made the right choice all those years ago when she had fled the university in shame, that she had never regretted it or wondered how her life would have turned out if she had been true to herself. She felt vulnerable without the status of marriage — she felt like a failure — but it was slowly becoming easier to tell the truth. She took a deep breath and smiled wryly.

  "No, I'm not still married. Did you ever get married?"

  "Oh, no," she said, shaking her head. "Surely you haven't forgotten that I'm not exactly a 'traditional' bride?" she said quietly.

  "So you're still, you know, that way
inclined?" Elsie asked, embarrassed.

  "Yes, I'm still 'that way inclined,'" Nancy said with a laugh. "You haven't changed a bit, Elsie," she continued appreciatively. "Have you got time for a drink?" Elsie hesitated. Sometimes she forgot she had no one to answer to anymore.

  "Yes, that would be great," she said, her cheeks warming at the thought. Remembering the blouse that now rested at their feet, Nancy bent down and scooped it up,

  "It's yours if you want it," she said, holding it in front of her.

  "No, it's alright. It's not really suitable for what I want."

  "What's the special occasion then?" Nancy asked quizzically.

  "I'll tell you after that drink," Elsie said, tugging Nancy toward the exit.

  They sat in a coffee shop a couple of doors down from the clothes shop they had met in. The establishment was empty; the customers preferring to sit outside in the sweltering sun.

  "I'm sorry about what I said earlier. About, you know, about whether you were... you know, gay," Elsie whispered.

  "Don't be, I'm not ashamed of my sexuality," Nancy said confidently. "Elsie, you don't have to feel ashamed either," she said gently. Elsie's head shot up.

  "I'm not ashamed of anything, I'm just not that way inclined," she hissed back at her. Nancy held up her hands.

  "Okay, if you want to play it like that," she said smiling.

  "Play it like what?" Elsie said, frustrated.

  "Look, you're fooling no one but yourself."

  "What are you talking about, Nancy? So we had a one-minute rumble. And years ago. Besides which, nothing even happened!"

  "Not because you didn't want it to though, Elsie. I often wondered how you'd gotten on over the years. I always imagined you'd marry a strong, silent type who took care of everything." Elsie's face reddened.

  "So I'm right?" Nancy said, taking her silence as confirmation. "How long were you married for?" she asked with pity in her eyes.

  "Thirty-two years." Nancy let out a whistle. "That's a long time to be in prison," she said softly. What was the point of Elsie denying it anymore? She finally had someone to talk to, and it happened to also be her first, and only, love. Tears welled up in her eyes but she no longer cared who saw her cry. She was sick to death of worrying about what other people thought of her.