by M J Hardy
The Girl on Gander Green Lane
M J Hardy
Copyrighted Material
Copyright © M J Hardy 2019
M J Hardy has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the Author of this work.
This book is a work of fiction and except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.
Contents
Audiobook
Before you begin.
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
Before you go
Also by M J Hardy
The Husband Thief
Living the Dream
The Woman Who Destroyed Christmas
The Grey Woman
The Last Word
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Before you begin.
A word of warning. There is a strong theme of domestic violence that runs through this book.
This abuse is unacceptable and victims should seek help immediately. If you can relate to any of this tell your family, a friend or a trained professional. You do not have to suffer and if anything, I hope this book illustrates that fact.
All of the quotes used at the beginning of every chapter were obtained from:
https://www.brainyquote.com
Prologue
“You only get one life and it’s up to you how you shape it. Like an empty patch of ground, you can take it and mould it into something magnificent, breath-taking and beautiful. It takes courage and determination but if you believe enough it will be the greatest reward.
There is no room for complacency. No allowances and no second chances. Your dream will become your reality if you know how to make it happen.
Crush your opponents and stand tall among men. Never waiver for a second because that will be your downfall. Nurture, protect and don’t be afraid to fight for what you believe in. Take no prisoners and show no mercy because once you show weakness, you will fail.
Never lose control of your own life because that’s where the problems begin. Like an unwanted virus they seep into the cracks of an otherwise perfect life and taint and destroy the beauty you have created. Do not let the control slip from your fingers because once it’s gone, it will never return. You are the only one who can make your life count for something beautiful and meaningful and it’s up to you to make that happen.
Do you understand me, son?”
“Yes mummy.”
“Will you live by my words and become the man I know you can be?”
“Yes mummy.”
“Have you learned your lesson?”
“Yes mummy.”
“Then what do you have to say to me?”
“I’m sorry mummy.”
“And?”
“I love you mummy.”
Chapter 1
‘Today I choose life. Every morning when I wake up, I can choose joy, happiness, negativity, pain... To feel the freedom that comes from being able to continue to make mistakes and choices - today I choose to feel life, not to deny my humanity but embrace it.’ - Kevyn Aucoin
There is that moment of the day where the world stills as if waiting for something to happen that will put me out of my misery. Maybe today will be that day. In a way, I wish it was. I need it to happen because living with the inevitability is worse than the certainty it will happen.
I go about my daily routine wondering if this will be my last. As I straighten the towel in the family bathroom, I do so on autopilot. Everything is carried out with military precision and an attention to detail I have learned the hard way.
Only when I’m sure everything is in place; do I leave for work.
On the dot of eight every morning, I lock the door and make my way to my car parked in the drive. I could probably do this in my sleep because it’s a routine I’ve perfected for the last five years.
As I join the traffic, nothing changes. I swear the same cars accompany me on my journey to the office and yet I couldn’t tell you the make or model. The same radio station provides the only life in the car because mine ended five years ago.
As I turn into Gander Green lane, my heart starts racing. I start to feel anxious because what if she’s not there?
I’ve come to rely on the stranger who provides the only light in my life.
8.15 and I feel my heart thump as the latest single to top the charts plays loudly from the radio.
I feel the anxiety that always follows me as I count the houses. Three doors down from the pub and the little white gate will open.
It starts to rain and the wipers squeak across the windscreen as I strain to see.
I start to slow down to prolong the encounter.
As I reach the second house, the flash of red I catch in the corner of my eye settles my heart.
There she is. The woman who has come to mean so much to me. The only one who settles my nerves and makes me feel almost human.
As I hold my breath, she starts the gentle jog towards me. The rain makes no difference to her. She dresses accordingly and even the little black dog who trots by her side is dressed for the elements.
She is laughing at something and grins as the little dog starts to bark at a cat across the road. I feel my world right itself as she pulls the dog along and smiles happily.
Just a split second is all it takes for me to imagine myself in her place. Happy and free without a care in the world. A pretty house and a faithful companion. Surely that’s not much to ask, is it?
The memory will keep me company for the rest of the day. It makes sense of my life and gives me hope of a better future. Sad really, when the only bit of happiness I enjoy is through the eyes of another.
The song finishes and the presenter starts talking about their next guest. I turn the radio off. Now my only companion is the imaginary world I create as I imagine myself walking in the girl on Gander Green lanes shoes. I want to be that woman so badly it hurts. I wonder where it all went so badly wrong.
Just before nine, I reach the office in town where I’ve worked for the past three years. As I join the line of workers pressing through the doors I hear, “Morning, Sarah.”
I say on autopilot. “Hi, Bea, terrible weather out there.”
“Yes, it’s going to last most of the week, unfortunately.”
I smile as I walk past the beaming receptionist.
Faville and Proctor - the Insurance company where I work and the only place I can relax.
Most of the people here dread coming in each day. I don’t.
Most people call in sick as many times as
they can get away with. I don’t.
Most people moan about the management and the workload they inflict on us. I don’t.
I would stay here if I could because what waits for me at home is far worse. There I’m on edge and here I can relax knowing that I won’t have to explain myself and deal with the consequences.
As I take up my position at the desk fourth from the door and facing the window, I feel myself sigh with relief as I switch my mind to the day ahead.
5.30 comes all too soon and with a heavy heart, I join my co-workers on the commute home.
I don’t dawdle and chat as many do. Any invitation to the pub after work is politely declined. I smile regretfully and make up some excuse to extricate me from any ‘out of office’ plans. I need to be home by 6.30 and have everything in place because that’s what’s required of me.
The return journey is much the same save for one thing. The girl never appears. She must work or walk her dog another time because as hard as I look, I never see her.
As I pass, I look with interest at the house she lives in. It’s a pretty house with roses trailing over a white painted porch and the garden is worthy of any horticultural accolade. Although welcoming, it’s not pristine. The gate could use a coat of paint and the path is strewn with weeds. However, the plants that grow in the small garden take my breath away.
It looks a happy house where nothing bad ever happens and once again, I wonder about her life. I imagine she has everything she could wish for. A beautiful home and no worries. She is obviously happy; I can tell that by the smile on her face. She has a lightness to her step which shows a confidence that only a happy life can give you.
As usual, I refuse to dwell on my life. I deal with it on a need to basis and the less I think of it the better. As I leave Gander Green lane behind, I leave my heart there to collect the next morning.
When I turn into Richmond Avenue, the houses change and the street widens. The trees stand proudly, guarding the neighbourhood like soldiers. The houses are bigger, better and much more impressive. Behind the shutters are people who live their lives in a very different way. People that appear to have it all worked out and look down on those who don’t. Doctors, lawyers, businessmen and their cosseted families. Nothing bad happens in Richmond Avenue - nothing that is spoken about, anyway.
Sighing, I turn into the drive of number 15 and pull up in my usual parking space. I turn the key in the ignition and hear the birds singing outside.
Then I take a deep breath and head inside the place that has been more like a prison than a home for the last five years because this is where he lives.
Chapter 2
You can do 99 things for someone and all they’ll remember is the one thing you didn’t do. – unknown
I quickly shower and change and set about making supper. As I pull the fresh ingredients from the fridge, I concentrate on the task in hand. Lasagne with a green salad and the usual bottle of wine. I work quickly and methodically making sure nothing is left uncleared or out of place.
I work in silence and channel my energy into making the food because the rest of the evening will be spent living on a knife edge.
I hear the car turn into the driveway and my heart starts racing. The thump of the car door and the sound of footsteps and my nerves jangle. The sound of the key in the lock strikes fear in my heart as I wonder what mood will be coming through it today.
Then I hear those footsteps heading my way and I plaster a smile on my face and say, “How was your day, darling?”
I watch as my husband heads my way and don’t miss the way he takes everything in.
Richard Standon is an impressive-looking man. He is good looking and dresses as if he’s just walked out of a men’s magazine. His hair is dark and cut short and his eyes are the darkest I have ever seen. He keeps himself in shape and we head to the gym most evenings. During the day he works as a solicitor and earns more per hour than I do for the day. Many of the women we associate with want to be in my shoes. He is easily the best looking of the husbands around here and I’m aware of the jealous looks and envious words as they constantly tell me how lucky I am.
He heads towards me and pulls me close, whispering, “I’ve missed you today.”
I answer as he would expect. “Me too.”
Pulling back, he strokes my cheek lightly and says softly, “What do you say we leave the gym tonight for a different type of workout?”
He asks me a question that demands no answer and I smile softly, “I would like that.”
He runs his hands down the front of my dress and says in a voice that gives me chills. “I expect you dressed accordingly at 8 o’clock sharp.”
Nodding, I lower my eyes and he pulls away saying roughly, “What’s for supper?”
My heart flutters as I say shakily, “Lasagne and salad.”
He sighs irritably. “Again?”
I say nothing and he rips his tie off angrily. “For god’s sake, Sarah, what was the point of that course I sent you on if you can’t even rustle up something more interesting than a lasagne. You’re a waste of space, you know that?”
I used to feel upset when he spoke to me like this but I’m so used to it I say nothing and just turn to carry on with my work.
He heads off to change and I close my mind to anything other than getting through the night.
He returns just as I’m dishing up and I pass him a glass of his favourite wine and say dutifully, “How was your day?”
He shrugs. “Same old routine. You know, I was thinking we should take a holiday. Maybe head to the Caribbean to get away from it all. I’ll book it tomorrow.”
I swallow hard and try to look excited. “That would be amazing. Let me know the dates and I’ll book the time off.”
He sighs irritably. “I’ve been thinking about your job. I think it’s time to leave. We need to start thinking about a family now. I’m not having my wife working when she should be concentrating on raising our family.”
I feel light headed as I try the dodge this conversation that is becoming more regular as the weeks go on.
“When were you thinking of going?”
He groans. “It will have to be next month because my workload is too heavy. Leave it with me and I’ll sort it out.”
I try to look excited but my heart is sinking like a lead balloon.
As usual, Richard eats with one eye on the television and I’m grateful for it. At least if he’s concentrating on that I’m off the hook. The thought of going on holiday fills me with dread. Two weeks with him and no escape. Most women would love the chance to escape to a Caribbean island with a man who looks like him. I’m not one of them. They don’t see the man I see behind closed doors. The man who wants everything his own way and demands more than a woman should ever have to give. To everyone else, we have a perfect life. I disagree. The woman I want to be lives on Gander Green lane and if I could turn back the clock, I would do everything in my power not to have fallen for the man before me.
After supper, Richard retires to the couch to watch the television, leaving me to clear the dishes and straighten the kitchen.
I make him a coffee and head across the large, open plan room, that you could eat your food off the floor.
As I hand him the mug, he says darkly, “Wait.”
My heart starts thumping as he places the mug on the coffee table and sits back in the chair. He fixes me with a hungry look and says gruffly, “Show me how much you’ve missed me.”
Swallowing hard, my hand moves to the zipper on my dress and as it falls, I stare him in the eye and note the lust enter them. I move forward and straddle him on the couch as he runs his hands all over my body making me shiver inside. Lowering my lips to his, he kisses me in a hard-demanding way before saying roughly, “Go and wait for me.”
I offer him a long, lingering, kiss and sway sexily from the room. My heart beats so fast I can only pray it gives out on me because sex with Richard is not straightforward. He has particular tastes th
at don’t sit well with me and yet many other women would consider me lucky.
As I lie on the bed and wait, I try to focus my mind on anything other than what’s happening.
He makes me wait for one hour.
I hear the television playing loudly in the room downstairs. The telephone rings and I hear him laugh at something in the conversation. I feel cold but dare not climb under the covers just in case. The air conditioning blasts its cool air on my nearly naked body and numbs me to what I’m about to receive.
My teeth are chattering when he finally enters the room. Fully dressed with intent in his eyes. I watch as he removes the belt from his jeans and his eyes flash.
“You’ve been a naughty girl, Sarah.”
My heart starts racing and my voice trembles as I say fearfully, “I’m not sure what you mean.”
His voice is ominous, and he says darkly, “I found this down the side of the couch.”
He produces a letter and I start to shake. My mouth is dry and I say in a whisper, “I’m sorry.”
There’s no point in denying it, it would only make matters worse. The letter I hid was one from my old school. It’s a reunion that’s been arranged for one month from today. Richard’s key was in the lock before I could hide it. It arrived two days ago, and I forgot about it completely.
