‘So, no to the balloon ride then?’
‘He treated her disgracefully and all we could do was watch from the side lines as he destroyed the woman she could have been,’ Mum spat.
‘How about a driving experience, I’d do it with Dad. Look, this one offers the Audi R8.’
It was a pointless suggestion as Mum was lost, so I reluctantly entered into another discussion over Aunt Olive.
‘You know, Mum, maybe you’re being unfair? We’re all masters of our own destiny and she chose her path; she wanted to be rich and be spoilt and she reaped the rewards from his credit card.’
‘Rubbish! Yes, she was a naïve girl who wanted the easy way in life and wanted to marry rather than work, but he took full advantage of that. He squashed my plump, flame-haired twenty-five-year-old sister and pulled out a manufactured plastic doll in her place. As Olive says in her letter, I agree we can sail our life boat in the direction we want to go and hope the storms don’t hit us but sometimes fate grabs hold of the steering wheel and steers us straight for the hurricane and there is nothing we can do about it. In the case of Olive, she allowed Mark to hop on her sweet little ferry; she allowed him to remould that boat to a cruise liner but with the understanding that he was the captain and he steered her life where he wanted to take it. Olive had no say in her life from the moment she agreed to marry him.
He was a cruel man who flitted between screaming at her or ignoring her. Even if we were around visiting, he spoke to her like she was a servant when he was calm or, more often, yelling the most obscene of obscenities at her as though she was a dirty slave. He didn’t care that we were witness to his behaviour as he thought very little for the opinion of others. Colin once tried to intervene and point out that this was not how you speak to your wife, but all Mark did was to laugh and point out that his wife was ‘a useless waste of space’ and he could say what he likes.
We tried to encourage Olive to leave on so many occasions but your aunt reacted by shutting us out of her life.’ Mum began to cry and once again I went over to comfort her.
‘She wrote she was angry at me for shutting her out of my and your life.’
‘She didn’t mean it Mum.’
‘But it’s not true Jay. In the beginning we stopped bringing you to see her because we didn’t want you to hear and witness his vile ways, and eventually we stopped going altogether as we dreaded him being there. If he was, which wasn’t often to be fair, we hoped he’d be in a bad mood and merely ignore us. But if he was in a good mood then he’d make conversation with us by laughing at our pathetic, penniless and puerile existence. If we retaliated then he’d storm out, screaming to Olive that her family were pathetic and who were we to criticise him? We were, “…nothing. Useless little people.” At that point we toyed between leaving in protest or snorting ‘freak’ and sitting back in relief, knowing that he wouldn’t return. Nevertheless, eventually, our visits dribbled away to nothing because of that man.’
Mum’s voice softened. She stroked her hands.
‘She was always welcome at ours, and although she denies it, I rang her time and again asking to meet up or for her to come and stay at ours, but in recent years she refused us. She shut everyone out of her life, she rejected all our pleas to help her and instead she became angry at any offer of help.’
Mum closed her eyes and shook her head at her memories.
‘Jay, from afar she remained a beautiful woman, the type people turned their heads to stare at but with every step closer she took, she looked more bizarre and dare I say, unhuman; a lifelike doll brought to life by her maker. Mark on the other hand, was an unattractive man from afar and an equally unattractive man up close. I confess he was once very handsome, but by his fifties he was grossly over-weight with slicked back greasy black hair. Do you remember? It was thinning on his shiny forehead and pulled back to a tumble of black tight curls which rested on his shoulders like slimy garden worms. He also paid homage to the church of the sunbed as he was toffee coloured even in the depths of winter.’
Mum’s voice rose again. She squeezed her hands.
‘Yet, thanks to his attractive bank balance he had no shortage of girlfriends. They were all as devious as the next, just to get their hands on his money. Such beautiful women who wasted their precious youth believing they could ensnare a rich man, but he never left your aunt, well, not until the last one. I’ve seen Monika and I’ve briefly spoken to her. I grant you, she is no different to any of the others. She had no love for him and she clearly preyed on Mark’s perversions to entrap him, but she is the one who changed everything for Olive. She changed everything.’
Mum trailed off in deep thought then re-emerged and composed herself.
‘Balloon ride it is as I don’t want your Father driving anything faster than the Mondeo – not with his back.’
After she left, instead of picking up my laptop to prepare for the presentation I had on Monday morning, I picked up the final section of my aunt’s manuscript.
Olivia
About eighteen months ago
Monika came home with us that evening. It was unusual as Mark kept his women separate from me, but that evening she shared our car, she shared the whiskey Mark poured for himself and she shared his bed.
I was a bystander, watching this pretty young girl re-enacting the first years of our marriage. I was numb to the pain this caused me as I had accepted long ago that I was only a member of the audience in Mark’s life. I knew my chest was struggling to contain my tired heart from popping out of my mouth and scampering off in protest at being abused and wasted on a man who ignored his servant. And still my devil whispered in my ear:
‘Oh, Olivia, if you want to keep your life then just disappear back to the shadows.’
So, I retreated to my room, but my eyelids refused to shut and my brain refused to close. Instead, I listened to the new fear which had crept into my brain that on top of all this I could lose my house. I would have to surrender my clothes, my jewellery, my cars, my holidays. And once all this was taken, then I had nothing and the life I knew would close the door on me after laughing at my misfortune. All my friends would join in on the revelry of gossiping about my demise from one of them to a sad, old, lonely woman. I lay awake watching their lunch meetings and how each friend would excitedly join in on the gossip ring. There would be a spike in lunch attendance not seen since Amanda Wakefield ran off with her kitchen fitter and was caught at the Alzheimer’s charity lunch wearing an old plum dress and looking at least 10lbs heavier.
Early in the morning I heard a car door slam. I went to the window to see Monika get into Mark’s car and drive away. I saw Mark stand to watch her go and then, as she turned left onto the road, he turned and looked up at my bedroom. He caught my eye and then walked into the house still wearing her burgundy silk dressing gown.
I dressed without looking in the mirror. The long white Chanel maxi-dress flowed around my ankles as I walked barefoot down stairs to my breakfast room where my husband was sat eating and reading the newspaper.
Mark didn’t look up as I eased myself into the room. I remember flinching at the thought of his unwashed naked bottom on my white dining chairs. I pushed this thought out of my head whilst I waited for Mark to acknowledge me and tell me my fate.
I took a breath in when my husband looked up, put his paper down and summoned me in a little closer. I was only able to take a few steps as my legs shook with every pigeon step I took.
‘Yeah, er, things aren’t doing too well in the city,’ he began. ‘There’s no point me trying to explain it to you as there’s no way you’d understand but basically bell-ends are disrupting the market to the point that I’m not making the returns from my investments. I need to sit on my stock until everything is sorted, so I’ll be making changes to mitigate the damage others have done to me,’ he said.
His demeanour had altered subtly; when he spoke his eye
s darted from me, to the floor, to his hands. These hands were as active as his eyes. They were pacing between wiping his mouth to squeezing one another.
‘Olivia, you just need to understand that this is the best solution for all of us. Don’t blame me, it’s not my fault; as I said, others have screwed up. Not me.’
Dearest Jason, what Mark had omitted to tell me in his abbreviated version of events, was that one of his companies had been embezzling money to another of his companies (namely an off-shore bank account under a false name). Mark had been covering his tracks by siphoning off money from the firm’s pension fund. This had been spotted due to an anomaly in his tax contribution, which led to the unravelling of all his immoral dealings. The taxman suspended his ability to trade until the investigation was concluded. This meant that, at best, Mark was potentially bankrupt in a matter of months unless he could pay a hefty fine from our British government or, at worst, bankrupt and staying in one of Her Majesty’s hostels. Of course, I was not privy to any of this information at that time.
‘Anyway, Olivia,’ Mark continued, ‘these changes involve this house and you. Both need to go. Like I said to you before, I’ve met Monika and I need to think about her needs now. I know I wasn’t keen, but she told me last night that she’s pregnant.’
Mark looked down at his fidgeting hands.
‘I’m genuinely sorry, Olivia.’
His tone was gentle but it was only a flash moment as he then picked up his paper and held it in front of his face. I had been dismissed.
My mind fused to my skull and my teeth seized together. My chest clamped to my heart and lungs and my legs involuntarily buckled.
‘She’s lying to you, Mark, I promise,’ I warbled. ‘She is lying. I know these women and they say whatever there is to get you to keep them. There is no baby, there is no child.’
This was met with defiant silence from Mark as he continued to read the paper.
‘Please Mark,’ I begged as I fell to my knees. ‘All the years I have given you, I have dedicated my life to you. I have never questioned you or asked you to change for me. I have merely been by your side supporting you. Can this Monika girl say the same? No! Can you guarantee that she will offer the same freedom I have given you? Surely you are gambling on another woman based on a lie she has spun you?’
Mark lowered The Times.
‘Olivia, she is pregnant and, by the way, don’t assume that the life I have spent with you is one I have enjoyed. I may have married you but there was never a marriage. You are an ugly woman who’s getting uglier with each year that passes; Monika on the other hand, is still young and fresh. I remember you at that age; a sweet red-head with fire inside you but you let that slip away. Maybe Monika will suffer the same fate that age brings to their face and body but at least she’s able to give me children – you couldn’t even do that!’
‘I know I couldn’t. I’m sorry, I’m sorry but, Mark, she’s lying, I know she is,’ I cried.
‘She’s pregnant, can’t you get that? And she has been before. Look, I’m sorry but you also need to know, we have a little boy called Zac; at the moment he lives with his grand-parents but I’m willing to take him on now she’s pregnant again. So, as you can see, I need to think about him as well. Now get up and leave. This house is being sold together with its contents, I never liked this place anyway.
‘You’re to leave me alone, go to your pathetic family, if they’ll have you. Become a burden on them instead; I don’t care…Leave!’ he bellowed.
I scuttled away, but I stopped just outside the room only because my long white dress had caught my foot and forced me to fall to the floor hitting my forehead as I fell.
I raised my shaking body to my feet and raced from the kitchen to the hallway where I stopped at the front entrance. I grabbed the huge brass handle upon the ornate wooden door. And Jason, my dearest Jason, I truly believe it was with the intention of running away into the stratosphere above me. But my screaming body shook too much causing me to pause long enough to stop – My mind relaxed, my arms fell to my side and my breathing returned. My devil was standing beside me. He was holding my hand and for the first time since I had made his acquaintance many years before, he was smiling.
‘Are you really going to accept that Olivia?’ he began. ‘You forfeited your life for him. Instead of you meeting your soulmate he grabbed you and stopped you from your chance of discovering your husband and creating your family. You never got the opportunity to meet your love and you never had the chance to bring your children into this world to cherish and cradle in your arms. And after all this, he wants to take away your home. This is all he ever gave you and he is to whip it away, for you to live a beggar life whilst he gets to know the pleasures of a family.
‘And he will be laughing at you Olivia – the foolish woman whom he once mocked and ruined, so that you, as he promised, will indeed become a worthless dead soul, years before your death.’
Beside him, by my devil’s feet, lay Mark’s shotgun. It was still loaded from the hunt he was meant to go on a little while ago. The bullets were never used as Mark had been too drunk to fire them. My devil stared at it with me then pointed at it indicating that I should pick it up. I had never felt it before and I was surprised that it was so heavy, but I liked the weight and I liked the feel of the cold metal of the barrel in my hands. My hands were no longer numb and each molecule that awoke in my body helped me to stand tall.
My devil started to walk away and as he did so he said, ‘So easy to do my sweet friend, so easy to do, my lady, my love.’
There are many regrets in my life which will make my deathbed a sombre place. I mostly regret losing James; I regret ever being rude to him in Australia and I regret telling him I could no longer dive with him or walk with him and I regret not being the woman in the crumbling cottage with him by my side. But Jason, I do not regret walking back into the breakfast room with the gun in my arms pointing the loaded barrel at my husband.
Mark looked up at me and his look was initially surprise but it gave way to a dismissive snort.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, you pathetic woman, put the gun down.’ He then just shook his head and resumed reading his article.
For the first time I saw my husband: his chin merged into his bulbous neck, his kimono had slipped, revealing his sweaty, greying body. His paper sat upon his huge stomach which was pushed against the edge of the glass table giving a red indentation into his fat.
He was a filthy man, but it only occurred to me at that point that he had changed from the powerful strong man I married, to this sloth with a red lined face from drinking too much and who snorted instead of breathed. He had aged badly so that his only worthy credential to note was his wealth, but it was enough to attract a young woman to replace me.
‘Olivia, I said put the gun down.’
I ignored his request.
‘I told you I gave you my life and I deserve more than being thrown out,’ I began. ‘I did not have children or a husband because of you. Why should I leave? Would another woman who had her children taken from her leave? Would she not fight and shout at the person who took her children?’
My voice was calm and forceful – it did not quiver or tremble in front of her husband. It spoke directly at him commanding Mark’s attention, so that he put down his paper and stared back at his wife.
‘Come on then Olivia. Get what is bothering you out, but remember it will make no difference as you will not leave this house with anything more than what you are wearing,’ he spat.
‘I gave you everything Mark. Years, I stood by you as your wife. I realise now it was not a position that I should have taken, but it is one I have suffered for you for many years whilst I watched others enjoy wonderful marriages that boost their journey in life.’
‘You were happy enough,’ he retorted. ‘You had all that good society had to offer. This marriage gave you a status
in life you craved; what else did you want and, for that matter, what else does any stupid woman who does not have the brain to make her own way in the world ever want from a marriage? My mother left me, her only son, in pursuit of this happiness, the very happiness I betrothed upon you. So why complain about your lot when most women would abandon their only child for what you have?’
The chest swelled and the fist clenched in reaction to Mark’s ignorance.
‘Mark,’ I continued, ‘I realise that a couple marry for lust and stay for love, but I married for excitement and stayed for money. It has taken me too many years to know that happiness is found in love. I have not been loved by my husband and I stand as a stupid, foolish woman who realises too late that she threw happiness away for a house on Cavendish Avenue.’
‘Put the gun down, Olivia, and go. Okay, okay, I’ll make sure you have enough money to buy a house close to your sister, will that do?’
Mark leaned in a little further.
‘Olivia, come on this is ridiculous, just put the gun down. We can talk about what you want, but first put the gun down. I don’t like what I see in your eyes, Olivia; a woman of your tiny stature doesn’t suit this great gun, so just put it down. Olivia, don’t step any closer. Think about what you’re doing. Don’t raise the gun any higher. Olivia this is stupid, just put the gun down. Okay, okay, tell me what you want? An allowance? Take the car, take anything you want, just put the gun down. This isn’t what you want.’
The fingers around the trigger began to squeeze and the heart began to thud against the chest. The hairs on the nape crystalized and the voice spoke calmly.
‘You never loved me. You made me what I am.’
‘You think I was happy? Do you think I am happy now? You may not believe it, Olivia, but I loved you. I loved you deeply. Maybe I didn’t know how to show it, but can you say the same thing? Did you love me? I doubt it. You’ve never shown me love; you just spent my money. If anyone ruined your life then it was you; you chose to devote your years to a man whom you refused to love. Admit it, all you wanted was to steal my money, but then how can I blame you? You’re just a typical woman… Ah come on, Olivia, tell me what you want to hear… Please Ol, put the gun down. …please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry!’
The Society Game Page 27
