by Karen Osman
Hope you sleep well tonight. I’ll be watching you x
Dozily, Alison thought, maybe he meant dreaming of you. Dismissing it, she quickly wrote back before snuggling back down under the covers. She fell asleep quickly, not having any idea that such a message would lie in her unconscious mind, dormant, until the early hours of the morning.
*
Over the next two days and nights, Alison enjoyed the simplicity and daily rhythms of university life made up of lectures, friends, course mates, and tea and toast in her own bed. She felt a sense of freedom that she hadn’t enjoyed in a while. She had expected to miss The Professor more but she felt the tension gradually release from her shoulders as she laughed with Laura and caught up on all the news. How much I have missed by never being here, she thought.
The break away from The Professor did her good, and as she gathered her things together, she realised she was looking forward to seeing him. She had arranged to go to his for dinner that night – he was cooking and she imagined relaxing over a nice bottle of wine and a bowl of pasta. She was envisaging an extra special evening.
She arrived just after seven. They embraced like they had been apart for a few months rather than just a few days.
‘I’ve missed you,’ he said simply.
‘I’ve missed you, too,’ she replied.
‘Sorry about the mess,’ he said as he led her into the living room, hurriedly clearing up. Alison tried to hide her shock at the state of the room. Papers lay on the floor surrounding the dining table as if they had been brushed aside while empty cups and plates littered the coffee table, and several bottles of wine stood empty, along with wine glasses.
‘Had a party?’ Alison asked.
‘Not quite – just a few colleagues over for dinner,’ he replied.
As Alison looked around the room, she felt something was wrong. She tried to work out what it was but was distracted by his furious cleaning. She pitched in to help and within half an hour, the place looked somewhat back to normal.
Eventually, it was Alison who ended up cooking as The Professor said he had a bit of a headache. They sat in front of the television, eating their food. There was no more wine left, as apparently it had all been drunk the previous evening, and Alison couldn’t help feeling slightly disappointed that the dinner party had taken such a toll on him, especially when he dozed off on the sofa. Covering him with a blanket, she headed upstairs to bed by herself and it was only as she was brushing her teeth, that she realised what was bothering her about the scene in the living room. There had only been two of everything – two wine glasses, two plates, two cups and two bowls.
*
Alison hadn’t forgotten her promise to Laura for their next night out. She had even had a quick run through Topshop to buy a white shirt and had asked her mum to send her old school tie and the slouchy white socks that she used to wear. She already had a black skirt, which Laura had convinced her to roll up a couple of inches, so at six o’clock, she was ready. She had decided to pass by The Professor’s house before she met the girls at the train station. She felt sure he would appreciate her outfit.
She rang the bell with her coat wrapped round her, and he welcomed her in his usual way, with a hug and a long kiss.
‘I missed you,’ he whispered into her hair, closing the door behind her.
‘I saw you only this morning,’ she laughed, delighted that he seemed to be in such a good mood.
Kissing him back, she took off her coat, and watched in glee as his eyes took in her fancy dress costume.
‘Is that for me?’ he winked. ‘You really shouldn’t have!’
Heading up the stairs, Alison took The Professor by the hand, feeling unusually powerful.
Afterwards, lying there on the bed, Alison looked at the time. She knew she would have to leave in a few minutes in order to meet the girls and get the train.
Getting up, The Professor grabbed her round the waist.
‘Hey, where are you going?’
Giggling, she responded: ‘I need to get ready and go. I told you, I’m meeting Laura and the girls at the train station at eight o’clock to go to Newcastle.’
Bending down to slip her shoes on – a black, towering pair of platforms that made her legs look even longer, she didn’t see him coming up behind her.
He grabbed her by the arm. Sure he was still playing, Alison pushed back. But as she began to feel the pressure of his fingertips increasing, she winced.
‘Ow, you’re hurting me,’ she cried, not sure if this was still part of the game.
‘Why are you going to Newcastle?’ he demanded. ‘Especially in that get-up.’ Trying to stay calm, Alison tried to reassure him, making light of the situation. ‘Remember? I told you about it. I promised Laura I would go with her to Newcastle. I’d much rather stay here with you but I’ve cancelled on her so many times.’
The Professor, finally letting go of her arm, pushed her backwards and her head smacked against the edge of the wardrobe.
‘Only sluts go out dressed like that,’ he said, before flinging her shirt at her, storming into the bathroom, and slamming the door.
Clutching the back of her head, knowing now that it clearly wasn’t a game, Alison was stunned into silence, too afraid to say anything else. His temper was as unpredictable as a volcano. Head hung low, her right hand gently probed where her head had struck the corner of the furniture, while her left hand held her steady against the offending wardrobe. Not feeling any blood, she took a moment to look at her arm, the red fingerprints beginning to emerge. Buttoning her shirt all the way to the top, she finished getting ready, wondering how long he would stay in the bathroom. She was still shaking at the outburst when a few moments later, as she was packing her bag, he came out of the bathroom, apologising.
‘Alison, I’m so sorry, will you forgive me? I didn’t mean to shout. I’m just under huge amounts of stress lately with this research project and I was looking forward to spending an evening with you.’
Alison looked up at him, the wheels in her brain trying to keep up with the fast-switching two sides of his personality.
Still in shock, she didn’t move when he came up to her and wrapped his arms around her. ‘You’re the only one who seems to be able to calm me these days,’ he added sheepishly.
But she seemed unable to get the words out. They lodged in her throat and she swallowed several times.
‘I’m so sorry, Alison. Will you forgive me?’
Not wanting to risk another outburst, Alison simply nodded. At the door, The Professor took Alison’s face in his hands, gave her a last kiss and said goodbye.
‘Is your head all right? I’m so sorry, it was an accident. If you need anything, just call me and I’ll be there.’
As the front door closed between them, Alison felt out of control, and confusion coursed through her veins. Love, desperation, hate and anger stifled her, the mix settling like a thick layer of glue in her mind. Unsure as to what to do next, she began walking to the train station. The last thing she felt like doing was going out to Newcastle but she knew she couldn’t cancel now. How would she explain it to Laura? As she walked, she pulled the coat around her even more tightly, suddenly feeling ashamed of her outfit. What had seemed like a fun night out had degenerated into an evening spent feeling self-conscious. Was she slutty? But everyone was dressed up the same, she thought resolutely. Still, the thought lingered longer than it should have done, and as she walked the streets of Newcastle, bar-hopping before finally arriving at the nightclub to the blast of the Spice Girls, Alison promised herself never to wear anything so ridiculous again.
*
Without wanting to admit it to herself, Alison knew his temper would erupt again at some point, she just didn’t know when. And that was perhaps the worst part. Like the oppressive calm before the storm, her nerves were strung so tightly her muscles ached. She knew on some level, she and The Professor had to sort this out. She also knew that she had to take control somehow. She couldn’
t live like this anymore – the fear, the unpredictability. She decided to meet him and see if she could talk to him about it. If she approached it sensitively, he might respond better. She sent him a message asking him to meet her at the pub. It would be better to choose a public place.
As she entered their usual meeting spot, her heart hammered in her chest. She knew this meeting was make or break and she could only hope he would understand the pain he was causing her. It took a while for Alison to see him. Unshaven, and wearing an old T-shirt and shorts, he looked like he had been at the pub for a while. He was sitting at the bar with a few other drinkers and was chatting to the barman.
‘Hey! Here’s my girl! Come here, Alison, and say hello to the lads.’
Alison sat down, trying her best to act normal.
‘How are you?’ she asked.
‘Great, never been better!’
‘Lads, this is my woman – isn’t she a looker?’
Alison cringed under the gaze of the men as they looked openly.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s get out of here and get some coffee. See ya, lads.’
Happy to be out in the fresh air, Alison gratefully took up his suggestion, leading him to a coffee shop and buying the largest coffee available. As they walked, the fresh air and caffeine seemed to help, and The Professor, impervious to her seriousness, was in a playful mood as he persuaded her to play ‘Poohsticks’ from the bridge into the river. He knew she had a fondness for the Winnie-the-Pooh stories, and she couldn’t help but eventually laugh at his enthusiasm as he ran from one side of the bridge to the other, gauging whose stick had won. When, finally, he determined she was the winner, he took her hand and began walking along the towpath. He didn’t say anything for a long time. Alison kept quiet, waiting for him to speak. Without looking at her, he started.
‘I know I haven’t mentioned much about my family. To be honest, I don’t really like to talk about them. I was fairly close to my mum growing up, but my father was a bully. He made life quite difficult at times.’
The Professor paused, looking over the view of the water. He seemed to be thinking, trying to determine how much to tell her. It was obviously something quite painful.
‘I wanted to go to boarding school but my parents – well, my dad – wasn’t having any of it. And whatever my dad said, my mum usually went along with. But for some reason, my mum decided to back me up on this. It wasn’t something she usually did as we all wanted a quiet life and sometimes it was easier just to let him get his way. I was only fourteen but I could hear them arguing downstairs. I was in my bedroom and after a bit it all went quiet. I heard my father’s footsteps on the stairs and knew he was coming for me. I’d had thrashings before but I knew this was going to be different. He was angry with me that I had managed to get Mum on my side.’
Alison could barely breathe.
Sighing heavily as if trying to release the memories, The Professor continued, ‘Needless to say I never went to boarding school. My father wanted me to study law and what he wanted, he got, of course,’ he said bitterly. ‘I studied law but I hated it. I managed to take a few literature classes, though, to keep me sane, which I enjoyed. I graduated and worked in a law firm but I was never good enough to progress very far. After a while, I left and went travelling. I kept in touch with my mum but things with Dad were always strained. Eventually, it became easier just to keep in touch from afar.’
The Professor glanced over at Alison. ‘You must be wondering why I’m telling you all this now.’
Alison looked into his eyes. Behind the drunken haze, she could see his pain. ‘I’m sorry I hurt you. I will get counselling, you know,’ he told her. ‘I promise.’
‘I know you will,’ Alison responded, her heart reaching out to the little boy who had faced such violence growing up. As they wrapped their arms around each other, Alison felt something inside her shift. Compassion replaced anger, understanding replaced fear. It was difficult to imagine growing up in such a household, especially as her upbringing had been so safe and full of love. Her parents doted on her and her sister, showing only love and kindness. There and then she made a promise to herself to do the same for him.
Chapter 27
Kate
He called her every day now. Normally, just after lunch when her youngest was taking her nap and her eldest still in school. They talked for almost an hour every time. He had asked to come over to her flat on several occasions, but so far Kate had refused him. What if her daughter woke up and found a strange man in the house? It made her feel sick to her stomach just thinking about it. She was responsible for the welfare of two children and she knew she was playing a risky game. So why was she still seeing him? Why was she loitering near the phone waiting for it to ring like a love-struck teenager? She felt ridiculous but at the same time unable to stop. His calls gave a sense of meaning to her days, something to look forward to, a break from the predictability.
She attended the writing classes and the book club but they had now become a pretence – a veil masking her secret life. She told no one, not even Jan, although Jan still teased her about being the teacher’s pet. She went along with it to avoid arousing suspicion, but she didn’t like lying to her friend. At the end of the class, she walked home with Jan but then slipped back again to meet him. Sometimes it was eleven thirty before she got home at night. Her husband was normally fast asleep but on the rare occasion that he asked, she told him she’d gone out for a drink with the rest of the students. If he ever noticed that she was distracted, he never mentioned anything. If she thought about it, their relationship had undergone a subtle change; she no longer asked him to help out with the kids. She no longer complained if he was late, or missed the train, or didn’t talk to her. She just got on with it and left him to his own devices. He normally took the girls out on Saturday mornings, to the park if it was good weather, and into town if it wasn’t. She used to spend the time relaxing but these days she took the opportunity to write. The words poured out of her and she hoped to write enough for a book rather than a novella. A dam had broken in her mind and her thoughts were flooded with ideas, plotlines and characters. Endless discussions with Mr Barnes about structure, syntax, phraseology and different genres kept them connected, and Kate felt like a sponge soaking it all up. He wasn’t long out of graduate school and was a little younger than she was, yet he seemed much more mature to her, due to his extensive knowledge. Every question she asked, he had an answer, or if he didn’t, he knew where to find it.
One Saturday morning, when the family had gone into town, Kate had spent her precious few hours of free time at Durham Main Library. From the outside, it was a 1970s monstrosity but inside, it was a haven of information. Everywhere she turned, books beckoned and the topics of psychology, mathematics and art made a welcome change from James and the Giant Peach and other Roald Dahl books. The choice was almost overwhelming, but as she browsed the shelves she became oblivious to everything but the array of titles. Her mind turned them over, deliberating, debating. She put no boundaries on herself. If a title appealed to her, she would gently slip it from its place and sit herself at one of the many tables, ensconced in the silence. It was the first of many weekend visits, and occasionally Mr Barnes would join her, so it was perhaps inevitable that he would eventually ask her to his place. The first few times she declined. She knew that if she accepted it would take their relationship to a different level, something she wasn’t sure she was ready for. There was a part of her that encouraged her to go, whispering that she deserved it and that no one would ever know. But there was also a part of her that was frightened. Frightened at how deep she had got herself into this situation and now wasn’t sure how to get out. Whatever problems there were at home, she knew that infidelity was not the answer. But Mr Barnes was persistent and the dangerous mix of flattery and vulnerability adulterated her soul. While their meetings were regular, their alone time was intermittent because of her family commitments but, as in so many affairs, it made the
ir secret liaisons all the more intense.
‘If you don’t want to come to my house, why don’t we book a hotel for the afternoon?’ he asked one rainy Wednesday afternoon on the phone.
Kate laughed at the absolute implausibility of his suggestion. ‘Yep, I’ll just leave the kids at home and tell my husband I’m popping to the shops,’ she joked.
‘I’m being serious,’ he responded. ‘If we plan it, we could easily make it happen.’ He paused. ‘I need you, Kate, I need to be alone with you,’ he whispered into the phone. ‘Have you any idea how frustrating it is to see you every week and not be able to touch you?’
Kate’s breath quickened at the sudden intimacy.
‘Imagine spending an entire afternoon in a beautiful hotel, talking and relaxing in each other’s arms.’
Despite the sordidness of the suggestion, he had managed to make it sound glamorous.
‘It would be amazing,’ she said, quick to reassure him.
‘Surely, you can get away for a few hours?’ he asked. ‘Any day, just let me know and I will be there. I will arrange everything.’
Beneath the urgent tone, Kate sensed a slight impatience to his voice. It had been several weeks since that first kiss on the bridge, and since then they had had just a few snatched moments here and there. Eager to placate him, Kate promised she would give it some thought. ‘Let me have a think and see what I can do,’ she promised.
‘You do want to be with me, don’t you?’
‘Yes, of course! It’s just not easy with the girls.’
‘I know, but I’m sure you can find a way. I’ll call you in a few days.’
He hung up the phone, and Kate was left staring at the receiver, a slight panicky feeling rising in her chest. She didn’t want to lose him but how could she manage to arrange it?
As it happened, it was easier than she had hoped. Ironically, the opportunity came through her husband.
