Chalet Girls

by Lorraine Wilson

  Without warning my mind flashes back to the park where it happened to me. I can still hear the thunder and loud, angry rain drops pelting the ground around us. Once I’d frozen, realising the impossibility of fighting off a man twice my size I’d switched off from what was happening to my body and just waited for it to be over. I shrank into my mind, focusing on the torrential rain instead of the invasion of my body and in the process it felt like I lost a part of myself.

  But it’s over now. It’s over. I force my mind back to the present. I’m safe here with Dan in this cosy campervan haven.

  ‘A few weeks ago, but the sentencing wasn’t reported in the press,’ Dan replies and I try to concentrate on what he’s saying, on his presence beside me. ‘I have a friend who’s a law reporter, he found out for me.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I unclench my fingers from around the throw and tentatively make myself reach out for Dan’s hand, fighting the impulse to withdraw into myself again. ‘I really appreciate it.’

  I won’t ask Dan how long a prison sentence was given. Otherwise I’ll be counting down in my head and calculating the possibility of parole and early release. Then even having international borders between us might not be enough to stop me going slowly insane.

  ‘How do you feel?’ Dan lightly squeezes my hand.

  ‘Fine. You must be the only boyfriend in the world who actually wants to talk about feelings.’ I roll my eyes and attempt a smile to soften the snarkiness of my words.

  ‘Am I your boyfriend?’

  ‘I don’t know. Are you?’ I turn and meet his eyes.

  ‘Do you want me to be?’ His gaze is on me, intense and penetrating.

  ‘If you promise to keep me in chocolate digestives, you can be anything you want.’ I try to smile, to lighten the mood.

  ‘So, Beth, tell me the truth. How are you doing?’

  It seems my attempts at deflection have failed to throw Dan off in his quest to assess my emotional wellbeing.

  I shrug helplessly. I can’t find the right words, or any words at all, in fact.

  ‘On a scale of one to ten, one being totally freaked out and ten being totally cool, what number are you?’ Dan asks.

  I take a deep breath into my lungs and force myself off pause mode. ‘About six, I suppose.’ Although in reality the number keeps fluctuating from about three or four to eight. I don’t want to go into the conflicting emotions of satisfaction that the man who raped me is now in prison and fury that he will never be punished for what he did to me.

  It’s so easy to interpret the CPS’s cited ‘insufficient evidence to proceed with a prosecution’ as an excuse, a criticism that I didn’t fight back harder, even. If I’d pushed him into injuring me badly then it would’ve helped my case. Bruised arms from being gripped so tightly I couldn’t move and bruising between my legs could be viewed as merely evidence of consensual, rough sex. That was how it was explained to me.

  So going through the subsequent medical examination and detailed statement – both so excruciating I wanted to die – were all for nothing.

  I don’t know why I froze, but I did. Until it actually happens to you it’s impossible to say how you’ll react. Am I afraid Dan will judge me? Is that why the words I need won’t appear for me?

  I swallow down the lump in my throat and tighten my hold of Dan’s hand.

  ‘Six is good,’ Dan says.

  ‘What were you up to before I came round?’ I change the subject.

  If he doesn’t stop questioning me I’ll have to leave. It’s my ever-helpful fight-or-flight instinct kicking in again and I don’t have the energy for a fight or anything much at all, in fact. Tension has drained and exhausted me.

  ‘I’m reading. I’ve just started a Scott Mariani, one of the Ben Hope thrillers. I’ve got it on audio on my phone, so I suppose, technically, I’m listening. Would you like to stay and listen with me?’

  ‘Yes, for a bit, if that’s okay. I really, really don’t want to talk any more.’

  Sitting quietly with Ben and listening to a book that will fill my mind with other words, other images and a different world sounds like just what I need right now.

  ‘Of course it’s okay.’ Ben gets the book up on his phone. ‘I’ll start from the beginning again. I was only twenty minutes in.’

  He presses the play button on the Bluetooth-linked Bose speaker and as the audiobook plays Dan reaches for me. We lie down on the bed together. I’m on my side with Dan lying behind me, holding me. We fit together perfectly and I rest my head back against his chest. His warm and solid presence comforts me. My muscles slowly unclench and tension seeps out of my body.

  I feel … safe. Safe enough to lose myself in the story.

  Safe with Dan.

  Frankly it’s exactly the kind of therapy I need right now. I thought I knew what I needed. I had a plan, but the universe sent me Dan. Lying here with my cheek against the soft cotton throw and his arms wrapped protectively around me I feel a profound gratitude.

  After an hour Dan gets up and makes a cup of tea.

  ‘Chocolate biscuit?’ He offers me the packet as he presses pause on the Bose speaker.

  I take two and grin at Dan. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘What does two biscuits get me?’ He asks, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘A kiss, maybe more. We’ll see.’

  ‘You really don’t want to talk?’ He checks, eyes serious, too serious for my liking. ‘You’re sure.’

  I munch on the biscuits. Once I’ve finished, I sigh.

  ‘I really, really, really don’t want to talk.’

  Or think.

  ‘You don’t think it would help?’

  ‘I know it definitely wouldn’t help.’ I squeeze my eyes shut and sigh again, more deeply this time. ‘Look, I only want to have to say this once. It’s bad enough that I have to try and forget about what happened, but telling you any of the details means if we’re having sex I not only have to forget about it myself but I’ll also worry you’re thinking about it. I don’t want you to treat me differently. I don’t want to be treated like a rape victim. If he carries on affecting me he’s won, whether he’s in prison or not. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, I think I do,’ Dan says slowly. ‘I suppose everyone has to deal with trauma in a way that works for them. I know there’s not a one-size-fits-all cure. Have you ever talked about it, though?’

  ‘Yes, once.’

  And once was enough. Every horrible ugly detail. The terror and the torrential rain and all the ifs …

  If it hadn‘t rained. If I‘d turned left instead of right on the path. If I‘d been more careful. If I‘d run when I first noticed him staring at me. If my sundress hadn‘t been so low-cut …

  You‘re not supposed to think like that, I know, but at three a.m. when I‘m lying wide awake, those ifs attack me like swarming wasps, stinging me no matter how hard I try to swat them away.

  It‘s best not to think. Not to talk. It‘s over. He‘s in prison, not for what he did to me but still … It‘s done. I could go back to England now, if I wanted. I never felt safe knowing he was walking around London, free. It‘s a big city, granted, but even so. I‘m also over the silly crush I had on Mark. I think now that was more about wanting to be a proper part of Eva‘s family, to feel properly safe, not just an invited hanger-on who might be asked to leave at any time.

  Coming to Verbier was the right thing to do. I had to leave the safety of Eva‘s nest and fly away.

  ‘I want to move on, please.’ I meet Dan‘s eye, try to convey how much I need him to move on too. I‘m not Beth the Rape Victim or Beth With the Dead Bipolar Mother, I‘m just Beth.

  ‘Okay. Do you want to listen to more of the book or maybe you want to do … something else?’

  ‘Something else.’ I nod and reach out to stroke Dan‘s hand. There‘s been a shift inside me. Sex with Dan took the lid off the pressure cooker last time. Now it‘s not anger driving me but desire for Dan and a longing to reconnect. Or maybe it‘s just plain
basic desire. I need this.

  ‘You‘re sure?’ Dan hesitates.

  ‘Please don‘t ask me that again. Don‘t treat me differently.’ My jaw clenches. ‘What that man did … I won‘t let it spoil sex for me. I appreciate you being thoughtful, but could you try being less so?’

  ‘Okay. Be more insensitive. Got it.’ His lips twitch. ‘How about ‚get your kit off, woman, I want to fuck you.‘ Is that better?’

  ‘Much better,’ I giggle. ‘But not very convincing. You can do better than that. Tell me what you want to do to me.’

  Dan leans forward, gaze fixed on me as he runs his hand up and down my thigh.

  ‘I want to strip you naked and kiss every bare inch of you until you‘re wet and ready for me. Then I plan to make you come, over and over. I want to see that smile you do when you‘re about to come. To know the privilege of being the one who gets to see you lose control.’

  He continues to stroke me rhythmically. The action ignites fiery darts of desire beneath my skin and between my legs. My breasts ache to be touched and my nipples harden.

  ‘That, uh, sounds good. You get an A-plus for effort.’

  I swing my legs up beside Dan and lie on the bed again. My breath quickens as Dan pulls my hoodie over my head and undoes my jeans, tugging them down.

  Then he runs his hands over my body, over the top of my knickers and bra, eyes darkening. When he lowers his mouth to my neck and kisses his way down my body, my feet begin to tingle. He kisses between my legs, over the damp cotton of my knickers.

  I arch up to meet his mouth, wanting more, but he moves away, kissing down my thighs again. The need for him obliterates all other thoughts. I groan and then suck in my breath as he tugs my knickers down.

  ‘Is this what you want?’ He lowers his mouth again, this time teasing my clit with his tongue.

  ‘Oh yes,’ I gasp. ‘And maybe something more.’

  I reach out and run my hand over the hard bulge in his jeans, taking delight in the low moan he utters, knowing I‘m responsible for it.

  Once he‘s undressed and sheathed with a condom, he presses between my legs – I‘m ready for him. Ready to choose sex. Ready to choose living over surviving.

  And ready to be fully present when I do.

  I stare into Dan‘s eyes the whole time he thrusts into me. My body welcomes and contracts around him. I don‘t tune out. I stay with him and it‘s the best sex I’ve ever had.

  It‘s moving on. It‘s winning.

  When I come and pull Dan into his own release a millisecond later my obliteration of thought is complete.

  I‘m not a victim. I‘m not even a survivor. I just am.

  Dan and I. We are one and the knowledge of it almost fries my brain. I thought choosing to trust a man again would be difficult, maybe impossible, but with Dan it‘s been easy. It just feels right.

  Afterwards we lie in companionable silence.

  ‘I‘m so glad last year is over and done with. I wonder what this year is going to bring.’ I stare at the campervan‘s ceiling.

  Dan doesn‘t answer immediately and it occurs to me I‘m not the only one trying to cope with life-changing events.

  ‘So, I suppose throwing away a career as a barrister is a pretty big deal.’ I roll on my side and look at him.

  ‘Yes, it is.’ He turns and meets my gaze. ‘It was the right thing to do, though.’

  ‘No regrets?’

  ‘None.’

  ‘Tell me more about you, Dan. That one-to-ten thing, do you know that because of your sister?’

  ‘Yes, we had a few family-therapy sessions and the therapist suggested it. It’s meant to be an easier way to express how you’re feeling when you’re not up to talking.’

  ‘So your sister, she’s okay now?’

  ‘She wasn’t for a while. She tried to kill herself and was in hospital for a few months. She’s much better now, but she’s with my parents, because she’s not up to being on her own.’

  ‘Oh, I’m really sorry.’ I try to imagine my mother attending family-therapy sessions and fail utterly.

  Dan squeezes my arm. ‘You’ve done so well, Beth. You don’t believe me but you’re incredibly brave.’

  ‘I had some help. My friend’s mother was a counsellor. She helped me. I even moved in with them for a while. Mum had died and there was a problem with the housing …’ I sigh. ‘I don’t know that I’m especially strong. Truth is, if Eva hadn’t scooped me up and taken me in I might well have tried to kill myself too. She saved my life.’

  That was when the crush on Mark started, a part of a bigger longing to be a proper, permanent part of their family. What I’m experiencing with Dan is completely different. For a start, it’s not all in my head. It’s like the crush times a thousand. A burst of feeling I never anticipated.

  We cuddle and listen to more of the Ben Hope novel and eventually fall asleep together. At six a.m. the next morning I crawl out of bed ready to get back to Chalet Repos to help out.

  I can’t believe I slept all night through. I crouch down next to the bed and kiss Dan on the cheek.

  ‘Bye, Dan.’

  He mumbles incomprehensibly. Not a morning person, then. I smile, almost glad to discover he has a flaw.

  ‘Thanks so much, for finding out the news and for everything,’ I whisper. Even though he probably won‘t remember, I still need to say it.

  The freezing air hits me as I slip out of the van. On the walk back I realise that last night was the first night in years I haven‘t had a nightmare. They‘re so much a part of my nights I‘ve grown used to them. Yet last night I don‘t actually remember dreaming at all. Weird.

  Good but weird.

  I sigh. It could be so easy to get used to this. I mustn‘t. This is a temporary thing, it has to be. Dan is a traveller, a free spirit on some kind of commitment-free bender. This can‘t last. If I want to find a man who‘ll always be there for me I suppose I need to keep looking, stick to my original plan.

  Only that plan isn‘t looking so great right now. The idea of partying and meeting more pricks like Thomas doesn‘t appeal.

  I realise I never got round to making any New Year‘s resolutions this year. Maybe it‘s time for a new plan and a new me. Where Dan will fit in that new plan I honestly don‘t know.

  Chapter 18

  From: Sebastien@whitelinep‌roductions.fr

  To: lucy.ross@hotmail.com

  Subject: Sad news

  Lucy Lu, I’m so sorry to hear about your father. I’d like to send some flowers to the funeral, if you could let me have your address.

  I got the get-well e-card you sent me :-) It has obviously done the trick as I’m out of the hospital now and feel perfectly okay. No worse than the time I got hit by a surf board and got concussion. I have a hard head, used to knocks, don’t worry. I’ve been forced to cancel a day’s filming but should be fit for the Xtreme in March, so that’s fantastic news.

  I can’t wait to see you again. I hope things are okay for you at home, I know it can’t be easy at the moment given what you told me about your parents.

  Thinking of you,

  Seb

  LUCY

  I stare out of the window at the clouds scudding over the hills. I wish I could climb on board one of them and race my way back to Seb in Switzerland.

  Instead I’m stuck in purgatory, eternally punished and with no chance of atonement. It feels like I’ve gone back in time, trapped in this house with the family Bible on prominent display and the ancient rug on the floor with worn patches where we used to be made to kneel to pray as children. I have to keep reminding myself I’m an adult now and will be leaving again soon. I didn’t have free choice then but I do now.

  At the same time I’m desperately sorry for Mum. I hate to see her tightly controlled grief and it’s upsetting that she won’t accept comfort from me. It also hurts to be the target of so much anger. Mum even said to me that worrying about me getting up to ‘high jinks’ probably caused Dad’s stroke in the firs
t place.

  So I’m a murderer now, too, apparently.

  Mum showed Aunt Sylvia the Daily Mail article about the supposedly depraved lives lived by chalet girls and they both stared at me, tight-lipped for the rest of the evening. I can’t believe she actually cut the article out of the newspaper and has kept it. All the better to taunt me with, I suppose.

  As well as the difficult relationship with Mum I’m still trying to process the fact Dad has died. I keep expecting him to come in from the barn and sit by the range in his favourite chair with worn patches on the arms. The chair no one is allowed to sit in now. I try to feel something, anything, but today is a numb, no-feeling day. I’ve had periods of numbness interspersed with acute sadness for what I’ve lost and what I never had. Sophie was right about that. I’m grieving for what our relationship could have been.

  If it weren’t for Ben I’d have gone mad cooped up here with Mum and Aunt Sylvia.

  I hear car wheels on the gravel outside and my heart sinks. Surely Mum isn’t back from the shops already? A car door slams and I hear Ben’s voice from the yard outside.

  ‘There’s someone here to see you, Lucy.’

  When Ben walks in his eyebrows are raised upwards towards his slightly receding hairline. All the males in our family are cursed with early-onset baldness.

  ‘Who is it?’ I get up from the sofa. My old school friends have moved to various cities in search of work as there’s very little year-round employment to be found here.

  I feel guilty knowing I’m just counting the days until I can go back to Switzerland, but any distraction from the tension between me and Mum is welcome. She won’t even let me help her with any of the legal paperwork or admin because ‘the boys have it all under control’. Of course my poor little female brain isn’t equipped to cope with anything like that. Honestly, Mum left everything legal or financial to Dad to deal with. Now she’ll rely on her sons instead.

  I can scarcely believe my eyes when Seb walks through the door. It takes a second for my brain to catch up with what I see, so incongruous is his presence here.