by Ella Harper
He really was being impossible at the moment, Connie thought, eyeing Jonas surreptitiously. He was prickly and short-tempered and it wasn’t so much that he had a short fuse, it was that he had no fuse at all. There had been no further incidents of violence, but Connie felt constantly jittery, not sure when Jonas might blow up next.
He actually looked ill, Connie thought suddenly. He looked pale and haggard and as though he needed a good week in bed to recharge his batteries. His hair, hard to tame at the best of times, looked unruly and in need of a wash. His blue and white checked shirt was crumpled and his jeans looked baggy and slouched, as though they too had given up a tad. In spite of everything that had happened, Connie felt a flash of sympathy for him. Jonas worked very hard. Not only in the sense of working long hours, but Connie knew Jonas worked flat out when he was at the office too. She had seen him working at home and the pressure he put on himself was relentless. He needed a break.
‘Could you… stay home today?’ Connie suggested.
‘Stay home?’ Jonas slammed the butter dish down. ‘Why on earth would I do that?’
Connie immediately regretted her suggestion. ‘To… have a break,’ she said, swallowing. ‘I’m aware that you’re extremely busy,’ she followed up, quickly.
Jonas shook his head. ‘I doubt you have the first idea how busy I am. How on earth could you possibly know?’ He gestured with his hand. ‘You sit there at that laptop, crapping on about women’s issues and kids and cake and stuff without the slightest inkling of the stress I’m going through on a daily basis.’
Connie bit her lip. Crapping on about women’s issues? Lovely. Her blog was actually hugely successful, with a high number of subscribers, and she even had some sponsorship deals. She earned money from her blog and she invested a lot of time in it.
‘I’d love to do what you do,’ Jonas comment tersely. ‘Especially as it essentially involves doing nothing much at all.’ He folded his arms. ‘Bloody hell. You live the life of Riley, don’t you, Connie?’
Connie bristled. God, but Jonas was vile when he was in this mood. He knew she worked most days on her blog, as well as running the house and making sure the kids arrived at various destinations day in, day out. Why was he suddenly making out she was some lazy wife and mother who didn’t contribute anything?
Don’t rise to it, she told herself. Because whatever horrible things Jonas was saying, it wasn’t worth making him even angrier. And it wasn’t because she was scared of him either. Jonas was on the edge every single day at the moment.
She stared at him. Did she still love him? She thought she did. There was still something there; she knew there was. Fleeting but lovely moments that proved that their relationship was real and that love still existed between them. The odd kiss on the forehead from Jonas as he walked past her chair. A mutual chuckle as they had a moment on the sofa together watching a comedy show – rare these days, but still. The appreciative look on Jonas’s face if she made his favourite dinner.
Was it the same as it used to be? No, Connie thought, looking away. How could it be? Everything had shifted and changed. Whenever she thought about him hitting her, she felt physically sick. Her stomach flipped over and she shrank into herself. But she wasn’t a weak person; she knew she wasn’t. She was strong and empowered and…
Connie paused. That’s who she used to be, at least. What she was now was anyone’s guess. She shuddered for a second. She had always judged other women for putting up with the awful things their husbands did. Cheating, domestic violence, drugs. Connie had always been adamant she would leave anyone who did any of those things to her. Absolutely adamant. But now that she was here in the situation, she realised that it wasn’t as black and white as that. Or maybe it was for some, but it wasn’t for her. There was so much history between them. So much loyalty and love. Support, kindness. Two children. Connie swallowed, finding her throat dry. It just wasn’t as straightforward as she had thought it would be.
Connie had the sudden urge to call JJ, but she had no idea why. What on earth could JJ do to help her? And it was Saturday. He was probably in bed with some girl whose name he didn’t know. Connie glanced down at her hands and wondered why her knuckles were white, why her hands were balled into fists.
Realising Jonas was still speaking, Connie rapidly tuned back in again.
‘…but no. It’s Saturday and I have to go into work. Again. While you get to sit there and play at writing.’
Connie shook her head. ‘I’m not playing at writing, Jonas. I AM writing. I’m…’ She stopped as Jonas advanced on her. Oh God, oh God, oh God. The look on his face…
Connie recoiled, feeling queasy. No. No. She couldn’t bear it. Somewhere in the background, she heard her chair scraping as she got up. Heard the front door bell. Braced herself. Saw Jonas’s face swimming in front of her.
‘Mum!’
Connie snapped back to reality. ‘Yes?’ she croaked. She looked at Jonas. His face was bright red, his fists clenched.
‘It’s Layla,’ Bella called.
Connie snapped back to reality, pushing her hair out of her face with a shaky hand.
‘Come on in, Layla,’ she called.
Jonas took a step back from Connie, smoothed his own hair down.
Layla came in, her blond hair bouncing, rosy-cheeked from the fresh air. She was wearing a denim jacket over a floaty dress and she looked extremely pretty. ‘Oh hi, Jonas. How are you?’
‘Late,’ Jonas snapped. ‘Sorry,’ he added. ‘I’m late for work and I need to go.’
‘Well, don’t let me stop you,’ Layla said breezily. She held up a pretty, pastel-coloured box with yellow string around it. ‘Unless you have a yen for deluxe donuts.’
Jonas frowned. ‘I don’t even know what a deluxe donut is. But I’ll leave you to it.’ He stalked out of the room without a backward glance.
Layla put the box down on the table. ‘I only have an hour as my neighbour has a key and said she can check on Mum a few times.’ She shrugged her arms out of her denim jacket. ‘OK. I’m only going to ask you once, Con, but please talk to me. What’s going on?’
Connie hesitated, then burst into tears. She checked over Layla’s shoulder that they were alone. Bella and Hannah were nowhere to be seen.
‘It’s… Jonas has been… he’s…’
Layla pulled her into a hug and said nothing.
Connie clung to Layla. And she searched for some courage. Dug deep to find the words to voice the horror. She needed to off-load. She needed to tell someone what was happening.
‘He hit me,’ she managed.
‘What?’ Layla pulled back. ‘What did you say?’
‘He hit me,’ Connie repeated, feeling another sob in her throat. ‘Jonas hit me. He’s hit me a few times. Three times, to be exact.’
‘Oh my God.’ Layla pulled Connie back into a hug. ‘Why didn’t you say something the first time it happened?’
Connie pulled herself out of the hug and rubbed her face. She sat down. ‘I didn’t know what to say. How to even voice it. I was so shocked the first time it happened.’
‘And when was it? The first time?’ Layla sat down next to her.
Connie thought for a moment. ‘I’m not sure. A year ago, maybe?’
‘A year ago?’ Layla looked flabbergasted. ‘You’ve been hiding this for that long?’
Connie played with the edge of her shirt. ‘I was ashamed. Embarrassed. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to admit it to anyone, because then it would be…’
‘Real?’ Layla finished.
‘Yeah, I guess so.’ Connie sighed. ‘That sounds mental, I know.’
Layla shook her head. ‘No, it doesn’t. Not at all. All of this is completely normal, I promise you.’
‘You must have heard this all before.’ Connie slumped down in her seat. ‘In your line of work.’
‘A few times, I guess.’ Layla got up and put the kettle on. ‘We need tea with those donuts.’ She turned and gave Connie a sa
d smile. ‘I just wish you’d told me. Not in the sense of me being a therapist. Not that. But because I’m your friend, hun. I hate to think of you dealing with this on your own.’
Connie shrugged helplessly. ‘It’s Jonas. I didn’t want to betray him. Even though he’s betrayed me.’ She started crying again. ‘I always thought the worst thing would be to be cheated on, you know? But I don’t know if it is. I think this is worse in some ways. I never thought Jonas would be that person. That man. The look on his face when he does it, Layla. It’s dreadful.’
Connie bent over and sobbed into her hands. She felt Layla crouch down next to her, felt Layla’s arms around her.
‘It will be all right,’ Layla told her.
Connie shut her eyes. Would it? She really wasn’t sure. She didn’t feel the same towards Jonas anymore. They barely spoke these days, let alone had sex or cuddles. They were like strangers living in the same house.
‘I do love him,’ she said out loud.
Layla pulled back and nodded. ‘I know you do. But this has to stop, Connie. He needs help.’
‘Maybe the holiday we have planned will bring us back together.’ Connie knew she was clutching at straws.
‘It will take more than a holiday,’ Layla said in a firm voice. ‘And I will do whatever I can to help you both, but this won’t go away unless it’s addressed. You do know that, don’t you?’
Connie knew Layla was right, but she didn’t have a clue what to do about it. Jonas didn’t want to be helped. He didn’t want to listen. He didn’t want to confront what was going on. Connie stared helplessly at Layla. What on earth was going to happen to her and Jonas?
Jonas
‘Yes, I can definitely take that case on as well. Add it to the pile.’
Jonas nodded at his desk and turned back to his computer. There was a teetering stack of case files on his desk and it just kept growing. Because he was saying yes to everything right now. He had to show everyone, Lukas especially, that he could handle it. That he wasn’t past it. That just because he had lost one case, it didn’t mean he was going to lose any others.
Jonas checked his emails. There were so many of them. So many. There were several from a barrister he was working with on a high-profile case. Something to do with a witness he wanted Jonas to chase up. Jonas needed to get onto that at once. He was surprised he hadn’t sorted it yet as he was usually very on the ball with that kind of thing, but he had so much on right now. And he was so bloody tired. He had been at the police station until the early hours last night and he’d been up at silly o’clock after that.
Jonas stopped tapping at his keyboard momentarily. Well. It wasn’t just that he was tired. It was that he was stressed up to the eyeballs. With work yes, but also with everything that was going on at home. It was exhausting being in his own house. Hardly talking to Connie. What he was doing to Connie.
Jonas put his face in his hands. What on earth was he doing to Connie? To their relationship? What was wrong with him? How could he be doing this to her? He loved her. Loved her more than anything. Jonas pressed his fingertips into his forehead. He just got so angry sometimes. Livid, actually. With Connie. Although Jonas wasn’t sure it was really with Connie. It was just that everything and anything was capable of winding him up.
Was it the pressure of trying to provide the life he had promised her all those years ago at uni? Jonas wasn’t sure. He worked hard. So bloody hard. And it wasn’t that Connie wasn’t appreciative of it. It was that she wasn’t particularly involved in it all. She had been, back in the day, Jonas remembered. She had worked, even when Bella had been a baby. For quite a while, if memory served him right. Jonas wasn’t entirely sure how long Connie had worked because it felt as though he had been working forever himself. He was sure she had tried to do her bit, but then Hannah had come along and suddenly, Connie wasn’t working anymore.
Jonas felt resentment stirring within him. Deep, deep resentment. Why on earth was it all down to him to support them all? Why did he have to work the hours he worked, when Connie didn’t? He was stressed out; that was why he did the things he did. It must be. It must.
Jonas felt a rush of shame. Good God. Why was she even still with him? Jonas felt his stomach plummet at the thought of Connie leaving him. She must love him very much, was all he could think. He wondered if there was a subconscious part of him that was almost challenging Connie. Testing her to see how much she loved him. It was the part of Jonas buried deep inside of him that he hated the most. Jonas wasn’t sure if he was doing that to Connie or not, but he did wonder sometimes because the first time he had… the first time it had happened (Jonas found himself incapable of actually stating the words that described what he had done to his wife, even in his own head), he simply couldn’t understand why she was still at home the next day. Jonas had felt certain that he would return from work to find the house empty and everything relating to Connie and the girls absent. He had literally been petrified when he had put his key in the door. Petrified that his life had gone, that everything he loved and was familiar to him had taken itself away forever.
But it hadn’t been. His life had still been there. Connie had been in the kitchen, cooking something, and the girls had been milling around, bickering as they usually did. The house looked and smelt the same. Jonas remembered the intense feeling of relief that had washed over him as he stood there watching the scene. And had marvelled at how he still had his wonderful, perfect life in place after what he had done. Except that it wasn’t. Wonderful or perfect. Connie had turned around and the hurt and the shock and the intense pain in her eyes had horrified and shamed Jonas. And he knew that nothing would ever be the same again.
And the worst thing was that he hadn’t even learnt his lesson. He had done it again. And again. And even though Connie was still there, it was as if she wasn’t. She was present, but not present. There was no intimacy, no joy, no laughter. It had come back after the first time, or something close to it. It had taken months and months but Jonas had suddenly seen glimpses of the old Connie. And he had been grateful. And relieved all over again.
And then he had done it again and that was when everything had shifted on its axis. It had shifted in a way that suggested that things could never return to how they once were. And at that point, Jonas had stopped trying. He had given in to whatever demons were haunting him. And now it was a pattern. Now it was a repetitive action, one that was damaging and horrible and dark and disgraceful.
Jonas looked up and watched Lukas stroll past his office window as though he didn’t have a care in the world. If Jonas could, he knew he would punch Lukas at the first opportunity he had. He would, quite frankly, get him by the throat and do him some serious damage if he could. Jonas felt sure that Lukas was out to get him, or whatever the expression was. Jonas felt such rage towards his boss, he could hardly stand it. He watched Lukas having a jovial chat with a colleague and wanted to stride out there and tear his head off.
How could he just stand there laughing like that? How could he saunter through the office looking like he’d had nine hours sleep every night and had nothing more to think about than which pen to use? Bastard. Without wishing to sound like a child, Jonas couldn’t help thinking it was all terribly unfair. Lukas wandered off and Jonas relaxed slightly, feeling his stomach unfurl.
God, he wished he had time to stop for a coffee. Actually, some water. He felt so unhealthy right now. He wasn’t eating properly; he was just grabbing whatever was quickest and easiest to eat. He used to love food, but Jonas really didn’t give it much thought these days. He certainly didn’t enjoy it. More worryingly, he could barely sleep. His mind just wouldn’t switch off and it was torturous. He was tossing and turning all night, every night, stressing about work and feeling as though he was running on the spot, never getting anywhere.
Maybe the holiday would help, Jonas thought hopefully. He wasn’t really sure anything could help the way he was feeling, but he had to hold onto something. Jonas just wanted to get
away. From here, from there, from his entire life. But what he actually needed to do was chase up that witness for the high-profile case. He’d do it before he went on holiday.
‘Sorted any of those cases out yet?’ Lukas asked, putting his head around the door. ‘Otherwise that holiday of yours might need to go on the back burner. You know where I am when you want to discuss your good results, yes?’
Jonas watched Lukas saunter away, somehow resisting the urge to run after him and shove some case files forcibly up his arse.
Layla
‘So what kind of stuff do you like doing? When you’re not sorting people’s heads out, that is.’
Alfie grinned.
Layla grinned back. ‘I like to… go to the cinema. Go for walks. Pilates. I read. Mostly chick lit and sometimes one of those novels that everyone talks about, just to see if it was actually any good.’ She paused. Actually, the things she had just listed were the things she used to do, not the things she did now. Her mum’s behaviour had put paid to that. ‘And… I drink.’ Layla held up her coffee cup. ‘Sometimes more exciting things like… wine.’
‘Ha! Me too. Well, beer is more my bag than wine, but I certainly don’t mind a bevvie now and again.’
‘A bevvie? Haven’t heard that one in a while.’
Layla relaxed and sipped her coffee. She was on an actual date. With an actual man. Who seemed rather nice. For an online man, at any rate. She and Alfie had chatted a few times with some messages back and forth and Alfie hadn’t sent her any photographs of his penis, nor had he requested any nudes. Which didn’t necessarily mean that Alfie wasn’t a pervert or out for what he could get sexually, but after a good few dismal months of dealing with a plethora of gratuitous nude pics and tedious requests for naughty photos, it was at least refreshing that he had behaved differently to everyone else Layla had chatted to.
