by C F Dunn
“Samb, stopd it. Matthew, he’th wbinding you up!”
Blood dripped from my nose, making me want to choke. I spat it in my hand. Matthew’s eyes flicked open, narrowed, hardened. Sam paced the floor in front of him, keeping just out of reach.
“She has some moves on her, I’ll give her that,” he leered. “Said you didn’t do it for her. Said you’re not up to it. Came to where she could get some, and man, didn’t we just.” He tapped his lip and held up his torn hand. “All good, clean fun.”
Making a supreme effort to hold himself in check, Matthew looked as if he were on the point of combustion.
“Sam…” There was a tremor beneath the calm. “I don’t want to hurt you…”
But Sam was too far gone into the game to give up now and he misinterpreted Matthew’s control as fear and, like a bully, continued to goad. I clung on to Matthew’s arm, making one last attempt, my words mush.
“Mafhew, it doesnb’t matter – he’s not worfth it – I’m not worfth it…”
Matthew touched his fingers briefly to my face and I knew it was too late. Sam laughed coarsely.
“Yeah, sure, honey, you tell him,” he jeered. “Run away, Lynes, ’cos the bitch ain’t worth it…”
He didn’t stand a chance. Matthew took a quick step forward. With the heel of his hand in a movement almost casual in appearance, he engaged Sam’s jaw with an audible snap. Sam careered backwards into the side of an armchair, shunting it across the wooden planks, lying crookedly for a moment before sliding crumpled onto the floor, holding his face. There was a momentary silence.
“Oh, Samb,” I groaned.
Matthew appeared unrepentant.
“He deserved it.”
“That’ths not whath’s worrying me,” I whispered as best I could.
He looked down at me, his face softening. “There are some things I can’t – won’t – let pass.”
Sam moaned from where he slumped, clutching his jaw. Matthew went up and stood over him, considering, then he bent swiftly and hauled him to his feet with one hand, none too carefully.
“You’ve sustained a broken jaw; you need to get it seen to. Can you walk?” Sam nodded and winced, and winced again, holding his face with both hands. “Get yourself over to the med centre; they’ll fix you up.”
He propelled Sam, stumbling, towards the door and shut it on him as soon as he was through it.
“He’llb make trouble…” I said, beginning to fret.
Now by my side, Matthew tilted my head towards the central ceiling light so he could get a better look.
“No he won’t.”
“He willb,” I insisted. “They’ll ask himb whadt habppened and he’ll tell themb anbd then the pbolice…”
Matthew secured my face between his hands so that I couldn’t move.
“Keep still. No, he won’t. He won’t say anything because he has his pride. He won’t admit to having his jaw broken in a scrum over a girl, and besides, the college authorities take a very dim view of staff getting involved in fights – doesn’t look good in the papers.” He pressed gently against the bridge of my nose.
“Ow,” I said, more in anticipation of pain than in actual discomfort.
“Mm, this’ll be sore for a few days but nothing’s broken – which makes a change. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
He steered me into the same armchair Sam had fallen against and went into the kitchen, where I could hear him opening and shutting cupboards, followed by a suppressed oath. He came back with a clean tea-towel, cold with water, and wrung out so it didn’t drip.
“You must be the only person in college not to have ice, peas – anything – in their freezer.”
I continued to hold the blood-soaked tissue to my face as I looked at him in surprise. He took it from me, replacing it gently with the tea-towel.
“Whabt freezer?”
He rolled his eyes. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he said, taking a plastic bag from the kitchen and disappearing out of the apartment. He must have run, because he returned in what seemed like less than a minute, the bag stuffed full of snow. I heard him in the kitchen again, then he came back with half the snow in a plastic bag wrapped with a dry, fresh tea-towel, creating a makeshift ice pack. He knelt on one knee beside me.
“Here, try this; it’ll take the swelling down.”
I found it difficult to breathe out of my left nostril, but the ice pack felt cool on my burning skin. “Ankoo.” I swallowed some blood. I lifted the pack away.
“Whabt he said’s nobt true.”
He frowned and took the ice pack from me and put it back on my face.
“Don’t talk. I know it isn’t; give me some credit for knowing you – and him.”
I pushed his hand away. “I dibn’t invite hibm in.”
“Stop talking.”
I needed him to understand. “He sorbt of febd me…” I mumbled into the tea-towel. Matthew’s eyebrows rose. “Sort of fed you?”
I pushed the tea-towel away again – it hurt too much to move my lips against it; this time Matthew let me. “Well, I dibdn’t wanbt him to, he just sobrt of took ovber and then…”
“So you’ve eaten?”
Matthew put the pack back so that it covered as much of my swollen mouth and nose as possible. The bleeding had trickled to a stop.
“Mmm – ’es.”
“In that case, he did you one good turn, I suppose; you’ll find it difficult to eat for the next twenty-four hours.”
Situation normal, I thought.
He took my hand and placed it over the ice pack. “Hold that in place and don’t move. And don’t talk,” he added, rising and going back into the kitchen, coming back with a small cooking bowl of water and a roll of kitchen paper.
“Mafew – wbhy are you here? Wbhat about Ellen – how is she? Shouldn’t you be wiv her?”
He hunkered down next to me again, placing the bowl in front of him, the water shiny and sloppy as it settled. He tore off a couple of sheets of paper, folded them into a wad and dipped it in the water. He started to work on the rapidly drying blood on my chin, wiping down my neck, changing the side of the wad to a clean area as he went.
“Ellen’s going to be fine – she’s in better shape than you are right now.” He tipped my chin up to get at the blood underneath it. “She sometimes has a problem with her heart which needs careful intervention, but she’ll be all right for now. She asked after you, by the way.”
I regretted pulling a face, as my lip split again, seeping fresh blood.
He took the ice pack away and used fresh, wet paper to soak the blood streaked up the side of my face where I had smeared it with my hand.
“I couldn’t get hold of you. Harry confirmed he brought you here, but you weren’t answering your cell or picking up your messages so, when you didn’t answer, I came back. Didn’t you have it switched on?”
“Es, I dibd.” I tried to look over my shoulder to where it lay on my desk, but he brought my face back with his fingers to continue working on it.
“There, that’s most of it off, except around your mouth and nose, but that’s too swollen at the moment. I’ll change the ice pack.”
While he was in the kitchen I took the opportunity to scoot into the bathroom to survey the damage and wash the blood off my hand. I looked a mess. The gash in my top lip bulged, and dried blood still caked the area between it and my nose, already discolouring with a bruise. Now only faintly pink, my cheek looked as if I had spent an hour too long in the sun. Other than that, the ice pack had started to reduce the swelling and the rest would heal a great deal quicker than Sam’s jaw. The blood-soaked collar of my shirt did my face gruesome justice so I took it off and ran a basin of cold water and left it to soak. Taking a last look at my face, I became conscious of missing one little pearl of the pair of earrings Nanna had given me ages ago, the tiny gold base plate where it had been naked and glinting dully in the light. Throwing a towel around my shoulders, I went straight through to the sitting room and started
frantically searching the floor where Sam had struck me, my face throbbing as I bent over.
“Are you looking for this?” Matthew held the pearl between his fingers. I almost snatched it from him, mumbling a relieved “Fank you.” I explained, “My granbmother gave themb to me.”
“Then that makes them doubly precious,” he said. “Here, let me take it and I’ll get it mended for you.” He took in my semi-naked state and the goose pimples roughening my bare arms. “I’d better get the fire made; it’s going to be a cold night and the college heating’s not up to the job.”
The first flames were licking the dry kindling hungrily as I pulled my pyjama jacket over my arms. Matthew had his back to me as he fed the fire more wood.
“Emma, I don’t think Sam will bother you again.” He put another stick on. “But how about I take you home anyway? It’ll only be a few days earlier than we planned.”
He swivelled on one knee to gauge my reaction. For a moment I thought he meant back home to Stamford and, when I realized he didn’t, the relief was immediately replaced by horror.
“Nobt like this – I won’t see anyone likbe this. I’ll stay here, thanks; it’s going to be difficult enoubgh to meet your family withoubt being all mashed up. It shoubld only take a few days to heal, shoubldn’t it? It looks worse than it is.” I drew breath through my right nostril. “Anbd besides, where are you goinbg to be?”
Matthew joined me by my chest of drawers as I did my top button.
“Mashed or not, I’ll be happier if you’re not on your own. I’ve some work I need to get done so I won’t be around much and anyway, it’ll give Pat someone to mother.”
“I donb’t need mothering, thankbyou very mubch, especially not by your daughter-in-law. I can look abfter myselbf. And when I do meet thebm, I want to have the advabntage of not looking like I’ve jubst been dug up. I don’t wabnt to see anyone for a week.”
He grinned down at me. “Indeed; well, you’ll have to see me, even though it might not be as much as I would wish.” He kissed the tip of my nose very, very gently.
“I’ll mabke an excebption for you,” I conceded.
He laughed. “Oh, wilth youb. Howb veby kind ob you,” he teased. “Are you going to put on a bathrobe, because you are looking very tempting like this.”
I looked down at myself but I wasn’t exposing anything I shouldn’t. “I’bm perfectly decent,” I protested.
He sighed. “Perfect – yes; decent – no, not the way I’m feeling. Right then, bathrobe and ice pack – in that order.”
I managed a giggle. “Is the ice pack fbor you or fbor mbe?”
I curled up next to him on the sofa, as he insisted on holding the ice-pack on my face for me.
“So what did you do to make Sam lose it?”
I looked as maligned as I could, given the bulky cloth being held to my face. At least my lip was less puffy, making talking easier; Matthew had given up trying to keep me quiet. He pulled me closer to him and I rested my head on his chest. “Emma, you know what I mean – what was the catalyst?”
I had been thinking about that. “I tolbd him that I love you and why.”
“That was it?”
“Basic’lly, yes – stubpid idiot. I’ve been trying to tell him for ages that I’m nobt interested in him, but he woulbdn’t listen.”
Matthew was quiet for a minute, then he said softly, “He can’t help being in love with you, Emma.”
I twisted around in his arms to look at him, ignoring the discomfort as the bag momentarily scraped my lip before he lifted it away.
“Whabt sort of love is it that he habd to hit me?!”
He smiled sadly. “A desperate love, and I know how that feels.”
I didn’t want him likening himself to Sam in any way, shape or form.
“But you didn’t hibt me.”
“No, I threatened worse.”
“But you dibdn’t mean it and you dibn’t do anything.”
“That may be so, but I’ve had centuries more than Sam in which to practise self-control; and, besides, stop making excuses for me, Emma, I don’t deserve them, and neither does Sam, for that matter.”
I settled back down against him and thought about what he had said. An ocean of difference lay between the two men in my mind, not least the way in which they seemed to love me.
“Sabm will be alrighbt though, won’t he?”
“Physically, he’ll be fine; he has a simple fracture and it won’t take long to heal. It’ll put him out of action for a bit, which might give him time to reflect on what he’s done.”
I didn’t think that Sam would risk crossing Matthew again in a hurry – unless his broken jaw only served as a vehicle for his revenge.
Matthew considered our previous conversation. “So you’re determined to stay here?”
“Yub. I’ll be fine; I’ve lots to do, so no sneaky visits frobm your relatives checking ub on me, or… or brin-ging Red Cross food parcels, or anything.”
He looked decidedly shifty. “Oh…”
“And you’ll be back in the evebnings, won’t you?”
“I’ll have to work through the night, but I’ll be back as much as I can when you’re awake.” My pout was made much more effective by the swelling of my lips. “I won’t totally abandon you, I promise, but what I have to do won’t wait. We’ll go home on the twenty-third, if that suits you?”
“OK.” I already had several things I wanted to get done that he didn’t need to know about. “Will you stay wbith me tonight?”
“I think I’d better.”
It was the first time I had drifted to sleep in his arms for what seemed like ages, lulled by the regular rhythm of his chest and the security of his closeness. The fire ticked as it burned in the grate, and outside the frozen campus cracked as the frost deepened. My face ached and, despite Sam and Ellen and the possibility of an impending trial, I felt more secure than I had done for a lifetime.
CHAPTER
21
Defining Boundaries
I knew that what I had to do had to be done quickly.
Despite what Matthew said, I couldn’t allow matters to rest. For one thing, if Sam did love me, there was no knowing what he might be prepared to do, and his fractured jaw and injured pride might only serve to increase his rancour, not lessen it. Judging from his performance last night, Sam was beyond reason and I couldn’t put Matthew at risk of any gossip, no matter how insignificant it might seem.
I waited until Matthew left in the morning, then rapidly showered and dressed in clothes I knew made me look pallid and emphasized the damage to my face. I pulled the hood of my coat around it, hiding as much as possible, in case I met anyone on the way. The fewer questions asked, the better.
It took Sam some time before he opened the door to his apartment in the new accommodation block. He turned away abruptly when he saw me and went back into his room without a word. I followed him into the main living area, which was flooded with light as the sun streamed beneath the half-lowered blind. He wore an old T-shirt and striped boxer shorts, his jaw distended and bruised, his eyes black from lack of sleep. His dishevelled appearance was at odds with the expensive, indulgent Italian furnishings. If I had thought about it at all, I would have imagined him living in chaos, waiting for the next woman to come along to pick him up and brush him down and put some order back into his life. Sam looked as if I had woken him from a broken sleep.
“What d’you want?” he mumbled, barely glancing at me. I waited until he turned towards me before I lowered my hood and let the strong light shine on my face.
It took a full minute for him to react as he took in the injuries he had inflicted. Although less swollen, what my lip lacked in size was more than made up for in red and purple discolouration. Enough dried and caked blood remained between my upper lip and my nose to look as if I had been in a prizefight and lost, and the bruising across my cheek and the bridge of my nose completed the picture of violence. When certain he understood what he had don
e, and I saw it in his eyes, I prepared to make my thoughts on the matter clear. If he entertained any misapprehension that I came to apologize or sympathize for his broken jaw, I would leave him in no doubt about the real purpose of my visit. The muscles in my throat constricted in anticipation of my attack.
“Sam, I am not going to report this to the police or to the college authorities,” I began, indicating my face. He looked guardedly relieved. “However…” I continued, “if you ever give me – or Matthew – cause to do so, not only will I report this, but I will add a charge of intimidation and attempted rape as well. In the time it would take to clear your name, enough damage would be done to your reputation to ensure that no female will trust you again, and you will find securing a post in any other reputable institution very difficult indeed.”
I paused to let the significance of what I had been rehearsing since last night sink in. I didn’t want Sam to think that Matthew had something to hide, and I wouldn’t let Sam see my fear that he might report Matthew to any authority that would be obliged to investigate his own injury.
“Last night before you hit me, you called me a bitch. Well, Sam, I wasn’t one, but that’s what you’ve just made me. Don’t make me into a liar as well; stay away and leave me alone.”
I didn’t wait for a response. I left him looking as if a bow-wave had hit him and he was wallowing in the aftermath of the ocean swell.
Rumours and lies – they can work both ways.
I made it downstairs and out to the far corner of the building before my nose started bleeding afresh, and the bright scarlet drops stained the blank face of the snow. It had taken everything in me to face him and to make clear the steps I would be prepared to take in order to protect myself. And, had it been merely for myself, I might never have screwed up the courage to do it, because a part of me felt sorry for Sam and mourned the friendship that could have been. But I didn’t do it for me, and for that I was prepared to perjure myself.
The next few days passed more quickly than I thought possible and, by the time the morning of the twenty-third came, I put the confrontation behind me in anticipation of a greater horror. Awash with nerves, I sat in front of the mirror examining my image. My face had healed just in time, and the last of the bruising lay disguised under a thin veil of make-up. Not used to wearing it, my skin felt horribly fake, as if I were trying to hide my true identity beneath it. I wondered what Matthew’s family would see, and what they would think of me. Equally worried about what to wear, in the few short hours I saw Matthew when he wasn’t working, I managed to glean that his family were pretty informal. And that was it. He couldn’t say much about what I should wear for Christmas – except that whatever I might choose would be “fine”. Although always loving, he appeared distracted when we were together. Once, I asked him how his work went and he said that it was “going well”. But the less he said, the more intensely he said it and, whatever it was that occupied him, had possession of his mind.
