Once dressed, they went down and Ange set to removing the cakes from the oven and setting the two little ones at the table for an hour of home-schooling. For Jack, it was simple, alphabet, picture books and coloring. With Ava it was a little more intense and Ange smiled at the look of concentration on her bright little girl’s face as she copied out words from workbooks, trying to pronounce as she wrote. Ange tried to let her attempt each word first, even if she knew she was getting it wrong as she loved the look of elation on her face on those occasions she got it right. Already she was a little perfectionist, and too often this led to tears as she rubbed out her pencil strokes on letters that were perfectly formed in the first place, tearing the page beneath. She hoped in time, Ava would learn to go easier on herself and praised every effort in an attempt to teach her to focus more on the positive.
Hovering between schoolteacher and baker, Ange prepared the tarts for the oven. Then she released the little ones for “recess” – a snack and some free play. She called Maeve to say she was ready for her. She may have cursed the open plan arrangements when they first arrived but it had actually worked out splendidly for her. She could keep an eye on the kids, and interact with them as she baked or entertained. She loved how Ava mothered little Jack. Nature or nurture, she wondered? Did Ava act like a mini mammy because Ange had made her that way, or was that nurturing instinct innate in her? She was aware that both she and Jim had babied Jack for two long. It had been part guilt, but also part because he had been weak, plagued with Bronchitis and chest infections from birth. For the first time, Ange realized they had been in Colorado for over three months and Jack hadn’t once been ill. No wonder he had grown so much, his body had more energy to put into development. The drier climate was obviously good for him. Looking at them both, Ange realized she had a lot to be thankful for. As she was lost in her thoughts she was jolted back to reality with the sound of the back door opening.
“Only me, can I come in?” Maeve asked. She neared Ange as if to hug her, but the sight of flour everywhere was enough to cause her to back track with a laugh.
“Sit down there at the table, I’ll just go wash my hands,” Ange said.
Ange joined her at the table with a couple of coffees and two generous slabs of sticky apple tart with a good dollop of whipped cream. “I really shouldn’t,” Maeve protested, her eyes dancing at the sight of the plate laid in front of her.
“Neither should I, but sure we will, anyway,” Ange laughed. Maeve’s incredibly portly figure must have been as a result of a lot of “I shouldn’ts” Ange surmised. The apple tart looked good, with gooey caramelized sugar oozing all over the plate but Ange couldn’t bring herself to do anything more than pick at a few crumbs.
“So how are you bearing up, honey?” Maeve asked as she watched Ange push the tart nonchalantly around the plate.
“I’m not. I feel like a child waiting to go into the principal’s office, only this is much worse. You know I used to read stuff about public floggings or birchings and get turned on. It was a secret fantasy of mine. It’s not too fecking arousing when you’re actually facing into it.”
“I know it’s easy for me to say, but maybe you could try to capture that fantasy. Shall we go online and try to find one or two of the stories you used to read? Or do you want to think of other things?”
“There’s something else troubling me, I think I’d rather talk about that. Take my mind off it. I really could use a little of your wisdom.”
“Wisdom, ha! I wish Joe could hear you. How can I help?”
“Isn’t it funny how you only appreciate things when they seem to be of value to someone else?” Ange asked. She saw the look of bewilderment crossing Maeve’s features.
“Whatever are you talking about?”
“Okay, let me try to explain.” Ange sighed, and took a deep breath before continuing. “Since Jack was born, our marriage has gone downhill, between court cases, public humiliation and of course the fact that we were both under one another’s feet all the time. When we came here, it picked up but not quite far enough. I want to ensure I get Jim’s undivided attention, if you catch my drift. And for now I think that means going along with domestic discipline, whether I like it or not.”
“What sort of help had you in mind? And why are you worried about getting Jim’s attention suddenly?”
“Let’s just say I think someone is showing an unhealthy interest in him.”
“You don’t think Jim…” Maeve started
“Good Lord, no. Although in a way I wouldn’t blame him if he did. Being married to me hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park for the last few years. I want to stop it before he does get tempted.”
“And what are you planning?”
“Well, I’ve been going along with this,” Ange said, handing Maeve Jim’s document.
“Ah, I see. Have you ever discussed it properly?” Maeve asked.
“No, I was about to tell him he could use it to wipe his arse, but then the other thing happened and I decided I’d use it as a strategy to hold onto him. At that stage we were at rock bottom and I’d have done anything. But now I need help on how to change it into something more workable. I can do the DD, but just not on those terms. So how do I fix it?”
“What do you want to fix? Do you want to get rid of it all together, or just come up with something you think is more reasonable? How do you feel about domestic discipline now that you’ve tried it?”
“Mostly it’s okay, well better than okay.” Ange felt her cheeks heat and she saw Maeve’s knowing smile. “It’s kind of sexy. And the making up is hot,” she admitted, burning furiously. “But I don’t agree with the list. As if I would put the children at risk, for example? It’s pretty insulting.”
“I wouldn’t get too bogged down in the details. Most of it is probably based on websites. And if you know you don’t do it, why worry? You’re not going to be punished for it. But if it makes you that uneasy, talk to him. Go through it one by one and come up with alternatives or compromises. You give on some, if he agrees to give on others. Just because you agree to DD doesn’t mean you don’t have a voice.”
“I know you’re right, but I’m afraid to push him at the moment, in case I push too far. But if I don’t do something, I will go mental.”
“Are you going to give me the full details on why you’re so afraid?”
“Sorry, no. I don’t think it would be fair to either of them.”
“If someone is making a play for your husband that’s hardly fair to you though, is it?” Maeve asked. “Is she married?”
“Stop trying to worm it out of me! I’m not telling and that’s that. I’ve warned her off as nicely as I can, but I get the impression she’s not going to back down that easily.”
Ange looked at her watch. Only three hours to go. She needed to feed the kids, shower and get ready. A sick, sinking feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. She busied herself preparing lunch and talking to the children. Once fed, she was dropping them over to Bethany to look after them.
“What the hell does one wear to a public disciplinary session?”
“A loose skirt, less humiliating to pull something up than have to remove trousers,” Maeve said sagely.
Ange looked at her with surprise. “How do you know this?”
“Ah, maybe it’s time you started coming to Farther Henry’s services. I’ve been over the bench on more than one occasion. And many of us have. It’ll be fine. I promise.” Maeve patted her hand reassuringly.
“I didn’t know that. How come you never told me?”
“You don’t go to church, so it wasn’t relevant until now. And about those fantasies, there is something sordidly exciting about it. Wait until you’re up there. Those nerves will still be there, but they go right to your lady parts. There is something about the audience that adds a different sensation.”
“I hope so, because right now I just want to vomit.”
“You need to eat something light to settle your tummy
. Some tea and toast maybe. And remember, it’s Jim who will be spanking you. He’s on your side. He loves you. Just hold onto that thought.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jim stopped hammering to answer his cell. “Hi Hank,” he said, grateful for a distraction from his thoughts.
“Jim, I’m so glad I caught you. Carla didn’t show for work today. She had been fussing about needing to go to Corbin’s Bend urgently. I forbade her to drive on those roads, and then I found out she hired a helicopter. I’m worried sick about her to tell the truth. So is Betty. She hasn’t been right since the accident. Can you let me know if she arrives?”
Jim groaned. Another spectator. And the very one Ange would not want there, or him for that matter. Why the hell was she coming? She’d have better stayed away and left them with what little dignity they had left.
“Will do, but I have an appointment I can’t miss at three. I’ll ask Kirk to keep an eye out if I haven’t seen her by then,” Jim said.
“Thank you so much. Let me know as soon as you see her. Tell her to call me.”
“Will do,” Jim agreed and pressed end. He decided the best thing to do was to get Kirk on the case straight away. He didn’t have the where-with-all for chasing after Carla right now. He hadn’t eaten all day and he was a mess. It seemed so shitty that Ange had to go through this after what had happened in Dublin. He had wanted to refuse, even if it meant they were kicked out, but Ange had said they couldn’t keep running. He knew she was right, yet this seemed so barbaric to him. And worse still, he had to be the one to do it to her. She was resentful enough about a private discipline session at home at times, and could fight tooth and nail to avoid one. He hoped she wouldn’t do that this afternoon. Nor blubber too much. He really hoped she could keep still throughout as it would be so much worse for her if she had to be restrained. He wanted to call her several times, but he promised he wouldn’t. Maeve would look after her until he returned at the agreed time of two p.m.
At one-thirty, he headed home. He knew he was a little early but he couldn’t stand it any longer. Maeve was at the kitchen table, Ange in the shower and the children had already been dropped off. As he entered, Maeve rose and put on the kettle. She made a pot of tea and coffee and as she heard Ange coming down the stairs, she filled three mugs, adding a large shot of brandy into two of them. He saw Maeve look approvingly at Ange, dressed in a skirt with woolen leggings underneath.
“Good choice. Leggings will keep you warm on the walk over and you can take them off in the ante room. Drink this,” she ordered, setting the mugs down on the table.
“Eww, I couldn’t,” he protested. He figured the look of disgust on Ange’s face was probably a mirror image of his own.
“Drink it,” she repeated sternly as she sat down. “It will help. It will also help if you go there together, holding hands. You go in a back door, so you don’t have to go through the crowd. When you get there, you’ll be brought into an ante room until it’s time. When you’re called out, you don’t look at the crowd, but pick a point on the back wall and focus on that. It’s you two together, and to hell with the rest of them, right? And remember, it’s nothing you don’t enjoy doing when it’s just the two of you. Focus on that. Focus on each other. It’s as bad for each of you, but you’re a unit. You can do this. Now I’m leaving you for half an hour so you can be alone, but I’ll be back to walk up with you. As will Joe.”
Jim saw Ange’s eyes fill with tears of gratitude for the kindness of her friend. Maeve Harshaw was a good woman and great friend. Her no nonsense approach was just what they both needed now. He stood to see her out.
“Thanks, Maeve, you’re a doll,” he said giving her a bear hug at the back door. He may have towered over her height- wise, but his arms were full of her lovely maternal roundness and Jim could not help compare it to Ange’s leaner, fitter frame. Beyond a doubt he had what he wanted in life and he shot an appreciative glance over at his tense wife.
“Oh my goodness, Jim O’Brien. You’re suffocating me,” Maeve giggled. “See you soon. Look after that lovely lady until I get back.”
“She’s right, you know. We need to focus on us, act like there is no one else in the room. Think you can do that?” Ange nodded her head unconvincingly.
“I need a shower, want to come keep me company?”
Ange followed him up the stairs and sat on the loo as he showered.
“I love you, Ange. We are stronger than this. Look what we’ve survived.” He wondered if he should tell her Carla was on her way back. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t when Ange heard he had known.
“I don’t know whether to tell you this or not, but I think if I don’t I’ll regret it… Carla’s on her way here,” Jim said as he got out of the shower.
“Fuck her. Bitch,” Ange spat.
“I’m sorry, but you can be sure she’ll tell you I knew, and I don’t want you thinking I was hiding it for sinister reasons. You are all I want, all I ever wanted. That won’t change, Ange.”
From his vantage point standing over her as he dried off, Jim watched a change come over his wife. She squared her shoulders. The nervous, intimidated look she had been wearing for the last few days that had troubled him so much vanished. The real Ange O’Brien had just entered the room, fighting and swearing, and he was immensely grateful for it. He had been worried that she was sinking into depression again but her spirit had just made a guest appearance.
“Right, let’s show her.”
“That’s my girl,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “You and me, babe.”
Ange punched him in the stomach, but he saw it coming and he flexed up. He had been asking for it. As long as he knew her, he knew better than to call her babe, she found it so condescending. But he wanted her fighting and he laughed.
“You’ll pay for that later,” he warned with a wink.
“Bastard!”
“Maybe, but your bastard. Always. Now what would madam like the executioner to wear? Come and help me choose. A suit, perhaps? The strict headmaster?”
“Yeah, why the hell not?”
“Good girl. Ange, you do know that I don’t agree with this any more than you do, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do, love. Thanks.”
By the time Maeve and Joe rapped on the door, they were as relaxed as they could be under the circumstances. As they walked, hand in hand, the few hundred yards to the community center, Jim prayed that God would give his wife the strength to bear this stoically. He was proud of her strength, but he hoped it wouldn’t fail her last minute. They had left early so they wouldn’t have to bear the indignities of walking alongside the onlookers.
When they entered the building, Joe hugged Ange and made his way out to the main hall. Maeve stayed with her. She would stay with her throughout. Her cheerfulness was uplifting as Ange shimmied out of her leggings.
“At least it’s warm in here. No goose bumps. A spanking is always worse when it’s cold. Take her over your lap and give her a few friendly swats there, Jim. Warm up her tooshie. It will make it easier. Don’t mind me. Damn, you’re a skinny thing, Ange. And such a wonderful cook. Have you a pact with the devil?” she blabbered as Ange lost her leggings. Ange and Jim were laughing so much at Maeve that they almost relaxed until they heard the sounds of the hall filling up. Jim noticed Ange’s breathing become labored and she was biting her bottom lip.
“A warm up’s not a bad idea, love,” he suggested as he sat down. “Come across my lap.”
Ange hesitated and he patted his knee, smiling. She tentatively approached him and he grabbed her hand and pulled her down.
“Shh, it’s just an extension of this,” he said softly. He raised her skirt, gasped appreciatively at her thong and tenderly placed his hand on her behind, circling gently with his fingernails. He felt her relax into his touch.
“Good girl,” Jim praised. His touch became firmer, his whole hand now trailing her rump, then kneading it. He tentatively placed a light swat o
n her bottom and Ange didn’t object. Maeve studiously examined the spider’s web in a corner of the ceiling, her back turned to them. Little by little, he increased the force, but ever mindful of two things, he didn’t want the sound travelling to the hall nor did he want her bottom too pink. He hoped as her cheeks were bare she would be afforded the dignity of keeping the thong. It was a smart move, and once again he admired his wife’s ability to plan ahead.
“They’ll be looking for you in ten minutes,” Maeve warned.
Jim pulled Ange’s skirt back into place and helped her up off his lap, only to pull her down again in a seating position, which is how they were when Brent and Lelo tapped on the door.
“Come on ahead,” Ange called in a strong voice. Jim was never more proud of her than at that moment.
Lelo simply said, “It’s time, I’m one of the witnesses to make sure it’s in accordance with the rules.” Then he left. Brent lingered until Maeve got the message and left the room.
“I feel bad about this. We knew what you were doing and you had come to us to take out a unit. I’m sorry, Ange, but the rules are set in stone. However, we have all agreed to commute the sentence to twenty five strokes instead of fifty. It was the best we could do, but we do know you didn’t invite this. Good luck, both of you.” Before either of them had a chance to respond, he was gone.
Exile to Unity Page 11
