Just Like a Woman

by Madeleine Clark

The dogs ran off to sniff all the bushes and find any remains of puddles. Thankfully it had been dry for the last three days so they wouldn’t get too dirty. Not even their filthy paws were going to upset her today. Walking along the path she did what she always did, planned her day in detail. When she got home, she decided, she would lock the dogs in the conservatory, and make a start in her kitchen.

  It was a little inexcusable having such a large house when she used such a small part of it, but it was an investment, she justified to herself. Stephanie increased her pace, and her walk became more pronounced as she thought of all the redesigning she had done in the house since she bought it three years ago. It had been a mess and she had designed the three rooms she used specifically for herself. The bedroom she used was the only one without an en-suite. She preferred the ‘family bathroom’. She had gone out on a limb on this room; an antique suite and Italian marble tiles. Although once it was finished, she wasn’t sure if she liked it, but knew it had a good resale quality about it.

  The massive kitchen was set up as a kitchen-diner, lounge which gave her all she needed for herself. The rest of the house, two further reception rooms and three other bedrooms were left uninhabited and unfurnished causing something of an echo now and again. She considered getting some furniture, but it seemed senseless, she would never let anyone stay, or come in for that matter. It was her space and she wanted no one there to sully it. She defended her decisions with the fact the house gave her the privacy she needed, being set off the road and in its own grounds. The dogs were safe and she felt safe with them. That was all that mattered. She had deliberately not placed a name or number on the drive. Instead she pinned a laminated picture of the two dogs at the gate, next to her post box. She rarely got callers.

  Hearing the caw of a buzzard she stood and watched two of them sweep high into the air over her head, wishing she could join them. There was nothing in the house she felt an attachment for. She could leave it all behind if she had to and she realized what a paradox that was. The sense of freedom gave her a feeling of security. But the security was unsettled, as happy as she was this morning, she felt a tinge of fear nesting deep in her stomach. Fear of an emotion towards Trevor. Another paradox, she laughed. Maybe it was just her masochism raising its head? The dislike and enjoyment from it. Too much was going on in her head and she was glad when she returned to the car. It was time to stop thinking, especially about him, but her brain continued to grind all the way home.

  By the time she was back at the car again, Stephanie had planned not only that evening, but Sunday as well. She decided she would have the night in for a change. She knew Saturday night was when all the best men were in the clubs, Neville was sure to be there. But she would stay in with a glass of wine and catch up on the phone with Cammy; perhaps even phone Robert to see what progress he had made with Sarah. In fact, she decided, she would call Sarah. She knew it wasn’t ethical and had resisted until now, but Sarah hadn’t turned up for her last appointment and she wanted to make sure she was alright. Make sure Robert had been honest with her. And reassure herself, nothing had happened.

  Her foot hit the brake pedal hard as she drove into the half-moon drive and saw the bouquet of red roses left on the front door step. It was such a huge bouquet it could not be missed. What the hell? They must have been left by mistake. She tried deceiving herself, knowing they hadn’t. After releasing the dogs from the back of the car, she stomped over to the flowers, her fists clenched by her side. This was her day, nothing was going to spoil it.

  They were well wrapped, but it didn’t look like a shop delivery. Taking a deep breath, she picked them up.

  There was a note. A plain piece of paper, not a card. And printed in bold handwriting was;

  STEPH

  Nothing else. No shop name; no delivery note. Nothing. Holding them upside down and out to her side she walked round to the back of the house and dropped them in the black bin. Mixed in with the anger she was aware her vanity was touched. Whoever it was who had left them had gone to a lot of trouble to find out where she lived. She walked back down the drive to the five-bar gate looking up and down the road and then pulled it closed behind her.

  .

  Chapter Nine

  Sarah’s mother sat beside her, in her armchair watching the Saturday evening reality television she so much loved. Inside Sarah’s head thoughts and images swirled in and out of each other. The suppressed urge to scream travelled right the way down beyond the pit of her stomach congregating with all the other screams until she could hardly feel it. Ten days at home with her mother was more than any person should endure. Her split lip was healed enough for her to go back to work on Monday she decided, with lipstick she could pretend it was a cold sore, which would then validate the flu she was supposed to have had.

  The doctor had been so kind. So kind. She had been in so much pain she hadn’t been able to stop the tears. He guessed as soon as she entered his surgery, the name, along with the address she gave the receptionist, was false but didn’t question her when she made it clear she needed to remain anonymous. What he didn’t realize was he had seen her before. A few years previously, when her mother had had to take her to a doctor but did not dare take her to Dr. Short or the hospital. She always remembered him because he had been so kind to her then as well. He gave her a painkiller when her mother’s back was turned, because her mother had refused one on her behalf.

  Sarah realized as he examined her gently, the questions he asked were from an assumption he was making; it had to be her boyfriend who had caused the injuries. He even asked if she would prefer to be seen by a female. If she had been able to, Sarah would have laughed, but her mouth hurt too much. Instead she kept her black eyes on the floor and attempted to shake her head. But it caused too much dizziness. Driving all the way to his surgery had been dangerous, she knew, but she could not live with the pain she was in, and wanted to ensure nothing was broken.

  She let him photograph the injuries when he insisted; in case it happened again. And then if she felt she could confide in someone, he persuaded her, she would have proof. At least now, on her own, he was able to give her painkillers openly. The drive home would be much more comfortable, and she would be able to have a good night’s sleep. When she left he told her she was welcome to come back anytime.

  Looking over at her mother’s face engrossed in the television screen she finally gave into the voice knocking insistently on the back of her eyes.

  Sarah stands behind the chair. Her arm raised, she holds the mallet her father once owned. In a swift and determined arc she brings the blunt metal down onto the grey haired covered head. The impact causes a thud to reverberate all the way up the handle to her hand. She pulls her arm back and swings it into the air again, smashes it down. The thud is not so strong this time, and the grey head no longer grey. She is not able to help herself but repeats the action over and over again. When she stops there is no grey head at all, the head has lost its shape. Nothing remains but a red and cream mass fallen forward revealing a lily white neck.

  Sarah shivered from head to toe. Her dreams didn’t give her the release they used to, they weren’t real enough. Lately they left her feeling frustrated. Looking at the television, but not seeing it her focus was brought back by the feeling of her phone vibrating in her pocket. She looked over at her mother; still engrossed in the television, her mother noticed nothing else around her; every now and again shouting with the studio audience.

  Leaning back in her chair Sarah assumed the call must be Robert again. He had made several attempts to get in touch with her since their night out. She hadn’t dared to answer his calls; she couldn’t call him back while she was in the house. Even if she could speak clearly through her swollen lips, what could she say? Sorry, but she was confined to the house! Or sorry, but mother wouldn’t let her see him again. She glared at her mother.

  Putting her hands on the arms of the chair she slowly and carefully raised herself up. The doctor told her the bruises
on her back would take some time to heal due to previous scar tissue he could see. As well as the painkiller he gave her at the surgery, he gave her a prescription for some strong painkillers with anti-inflammatory to prevent further problems for her. He also told her as she was walking out the door how lucky she was. Falling down the stairs was dangerous, he said, it could and often was fatal.

  ‘Where you going?’ her mother asked without taking her eyes of the television.

  Taking a deep breath Sarah whispered through her swollen lips,

  ‘Toilet.’

  She left the room and took her time to climb the stairs. Could she really go back to work on Monday? Yes, she decided, she would only be sitting at the desk and if she dosed herself with the pills she had, they wouldn’t notice. She’d managed before.

  She leant against the toilet door as her mother had removed the locks from all the internal doors in the house the day her father left. Taking the phone from her pocket she saw the missed call was from Stephanie, not Robert. She was a little disappointed, but also pleased Stephanie had thought about her. Missing the appointment had been a blow to her, and her mother had told her she would not be going again; it obviously was a bad influence on her, making her lie and cheat, possibly steal as well. And she couldn’t cancel the appointment, even if her mother let her use the phone, she still couldn’t speak by Tuesday to let her know.

  Sarah leaned back. What was she going to do? She couldn’t live like this anymore, but where could she go? Her mother had control of all her money except a few pounds here and there and most of that had gone lately on the beautiful dress she bought herself for the date. Robert hadn’t seemed impressed by it either, she reminded herself.

  But how could she manage without her mother? Her mother loved her, in her own way, she knew that. A mother had to love her daughter. All the magazines told her so. She knew deep down her mother didn’t mean to hurt her, she just couldn’t help it sometimes when Sarah did something wrong. It was her own fault, she shouldn’t have lied to her. If she hadn’t lied, her mother would not have done this.

  And she loved Robert. It must be love because she had not stopped thinking about him; thinking of being with him. He would want to take her away. If they loved each other they should be together. But then her mother would be on her own. And Sarah knew her mother couldn’t live on her own. Her mother would not allow her to leave and be with Robert. She would stop them. For a few seconds she treated herself to the image of his face before her; bending down, smiling at her as he did when he first met her. So observant he even commented on her hair. He really liked her. Soul mates. He was her soul mate. Stephanie had recognized it for them and brought them together. Stephanie was so kind. Robert and her were obviously meant to be together. And if that was the case, they would be.

  After sitting on the toilet, Sarah went back downstairs, it was too early to go to bed yet. Only another hour and her mother would let her make her excuses.

  *****

  Robert caught sight of himself in the shop window as the car sat at the traffic lights. He looked good, he felt good. His wife had agreed to meet him, alone. It was coffee only, but it was a start. As he pulled away he thought back to the conversation he had with Stephanie the previous evening. She was still bleating on about that Sarah girl. He couldn’t quite see the obsession. Yes she was attractive in a mouse like way, but with something aloof about her, and she was nothing like Becky. His lip curled at the thought of Becky, maybe he should mention her to Stephanie? No, she was his, and besides it had never worked that way. Stephanie found the girl, not him. But Becky would do anything for him. Not like this Sarah girl. He couldn’t imagine her doing anything. She wouldn’t know where to start. And that was the attraction for Stephanie. She would be a blank canvass, they could teach her anything. With that thought he felt a slight stirring. But not much of one.

  ‘Where did she get that dress?’ He asked last Saturday when he finally got to speak to her.

  ‘I don’t know. What was wrong with it?’

  ‘It didn’t fit. It was just, well just, I don’t know, but it looked like something that should’ve been in a charity shop.’ Was all he could think of.

  ‘She’s very young don’t forget, and you were her first date.’

  ‘Ever?’

  ‘Apparently.’

  ‘Ah, now I see. Ok I’ll call her again, tomorrow.’

  ‘I’m going to try her tonight, she didn’t turn up for her appointment on Tuesday. You have been honest? Nothing went wrong?’

  ‘Of course not. It was fine.’ Robert remembered the kiss goodbye but didn’t mention it. Surely she couldn’t be upset over that? He let it go and asked.

  ‘Do you think she’ll have guessed? Or knows even?’

  ‘Don’t be daft. You’ve met her now! It wouldn’t enter her mind.’ She hung up.

  He saw his wife’s black head, she was sitting at the window table. She had her hair tied up on top of her head, and she wore glasses instead of the usual contacts, but she couldn’t hide her beauty that easily. As he pulled the Jag to a stop, a convenient space right outside the coffee shop became available. Whenever he saw her his heart beat slightly faster. Would he ever get used to looking at her?

  She smiled towards him as he got out of the car, he raised his hand in a wave, partly to allow the wind to dry out the dampness before he entered the shop. For an instant as he walked towards her, an image of Becky came into his mind, but as soon as he opened the door and heard her voice, all thoughts of any other woman left him. She was still the only woman in the world he cared about. Possibly the only other person in the world, after himself.

  ‘So how are you?’ she asked quietly. He kissed the cheek offered to him.

  ‘Busy. You?’

  ‘Yes,’ she looked down at the menu she held. He was surprised. They would only be having coffee.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ he asked her

  ‘Oh. No,’ she placed the menu back on the table, then looked at her hands for a moment.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she looked up smiling. ‘I’ll just have the cappuccino, skimmed milk.’

  He left the table and went up to the counter to order the drinks. He looked up at the board offering various different coffees, teas and chocolates and decided to make life easy for the young girl by ordering two cappuccinos, with skimmed milk. He waited at the bar whilst the girl made them, looking back at his wife, wondering why she was so tense.

  ‘Here we go,’ he placed them in front of her and slid his legs under the table beside her. ‘So what’s wrong’ he persisted. She lifted the cup to her lips, but it was still too hot to drink. ‘What’s wrong?’ She looked up at him, licked her lips, then back down at the coffee again, before raising her eyes to him,

  ‘There’s nothing wrong. Now why did you want to see me?’

  ‘I always want to see you!’

  She laughed.

  ‘Won’t you come back?’

  ‘Robert! Don’t start that again. Surely its better this way for both of us. Anyway, I’m betting you’ve someone else?’

  Becky flashed into his mind before he could stop it, and he knew she would notice the expression on his face. He tried to mask it by picking up his drink.

  ‘Ha, I knew it. Who is she? Tell me about her.’

  He realized he wanted to tell her, maybe it was to make her jealous. He wanted her to be jealous, as he was. He knew she was only asking out of habit, and she didn’t really want to hear and didn’t care. She wouldn’t even care about the photos. He had never told her about them, no one knew. That was why they were so special. Nor the orange dress. Could he risk asking her if she had the orange dress still? Deciding against it, he told her about Becky, what she was like. She listened, nodding her head in all the right places, saying yes as it was required, but he was quite sure if he asked her any questions concerning what he had just told her, she would not have been able to answer them. He watched her as he spoke, how her face re
laxed and she sat back in her chair. She laughed at Becky’s age, even though he exaggerated it to be several years older, admitting to himself he was slightly embarrassed by it. When he asked her if she was seeing anyone, he could read nothing on her face to say she was lying when she said she was not. But that meant nothing. The years he had spent living with her had taught him, she could make him believe whatever she wanted him to.

  Finally she looked at her watch. She was going to leave him again.

  ‘You don’t have to go yet?’

  ‘Afraid I do. Work.’

  ‘At this hour.’

  She didn’t reply.

  He helped her on with her coat. ‘Can I walk you to your car?’

  ‘Come on you know better than to ask that. Don’t spoil it.’ She answered kindly. And then she smiled at him. He leaned down to kiss her once more on the cheek she offered. His arms ached to go around her and hold her to him. He stood back and watched her leave, walking away from the car park. She would have parked somewhere around the corner, somewhere he couldn’t see the car. All she let him have was her mobile phone number. Knowing it was his own fault didn’t make it easier, the restraining order stated he was not allowed within five miles of her work place or home, which was why she agreed to meet him all the way out there.

  *****

  Driving home from work it occurred to Stephanie the text messages, the flowers and the phone calls could be from Robert. But he would have had to go to all the bother of organizing it, and she knew enough about him to know he could be slightly unpleasant and devious, but he wasn’t that organized. Terry did everything for him. He would have had to change his telephone numbers and set up a different voicemail, because it was definitely not his voice. The voice was familiar to her, but it wasn’t Robert’s. It was so frustrating, knowing yet not knowing. Someone she hadn’t thought of yet, someone she knew. It had to be another client. Besides with the prospect of Sarah on the horizon, Robert wouldn’t risk upsetting her, surely? What would he gain from such behaviour? No, it couldn’t be Robert. He just wasn’t that clever. Another person checked off her mental list of stalkers.