by Carla Blake
“My heart bleeds.” Kate said sarcastically.
“As does mine.” Rachel cooed. “ But it would explain why he treated women the way he did. To him they were the enemy. The living proof of what he should have found attractive, but couldn’t.”
Kate reached for her coffee. “Then, my darling.” She said. “It’s a bloody good job he didn’t find out the truth about you! Can you imagine what he would have done?”
“I shudder to think.”
“You and me both. But what did you do then? After he told you where to sit and all that. Did you walk out ? Tell him where to stick his weirdo, sexual preferences. “
“I wish.” Rachel sighed heavily. “But I went out with him for another six months.”
And Simon undermined her at every turn. He shouted at her. He bullied her. He told her she was fat and unattractive and had a cunt so loose he could have parked a bus in there. He insisted she was dirty and diseased and every time she visited his apartment he made her change into clothes he’d had specifically laundered for the purpose. She was stupid and dull and there was no point in turning on the water works and threatening to leave, because no one else would want a dumb fuck like her. She should be thanking him for having her if anything. She should be down on her knees and licking his fucking boots, grateful he was prepared to show her how she should behave because she was nothing but a stupid, ugly, useless lump.
He then shut her inside a cupboard. Throwing her in and locking it, oblivious to her cries to be let out and laughing when she cried that she couldn’t breath. Instead he kicked the door and viciously rattled the frame, tormenting her until Rachel screamed and begged him to stop, scared his foot would punch right through the wood and kick her in the stomach.
He deprived her of sleep. Waiting until she had just dozed off before cruelly shaking her awake and telling her she would sleep only when he said she could.
Some nights she got less than three hours uninterrupted peace and her work inevitably began to suffer.
She made mistakes, stupid, minor errors that nobody noticed, but which she still hurried to correct, worried stupid that one day she would make a colossal blunder that she’d fail to spot in time and consequently be sacked for.
Simon, when she told him, was anything but sympathetic. Instead, appalled at her sleep deprived face and berating her for her sagging energy, he’d shut her in the cupboard again. Yelling at her that she could sleep all she liked in there.
Then he took to hitting her.
Kate was appalled. “So why the fuck didn’t you leave?” She demanded, slapping the table and catching the edge of her coffee cup which slopped the dregs down her leg. “For God’s sake Rachel! What were you thinking? Didn’t it ever cross your mind that something wasn’t right?”
“Of course it did!” Rachel replied angrily. “Some days I thought of nothing else, but you don’t know what it was like! It was like he’d brainwashed me or something until I truly believed I was stupid and ugly and worthless. When you hear something like that every day, you can’t help but start to believe it and I was scared, Kate. Terrified that if I left him he’d come after me and actually do some of the things he always threatened.”
“So you just let him hit you?”
“No! I didn’t just let him hit me! Shit, Kate! You actually think I saw it coming? Simon was cleverer than that. His mood could change in an instant and I never knew when it was going to happen. One minute he’d have his arm around me, cuddling me, the next he’d be pinching my skin because I didn’t say I loved him back fast enough.”
“And no one else noticed? How for God’s sake? You must have had bruises all over you! Surely someone must have seen?”
“I wish, but Simon always made sure he marked me where it didn’t show. Besides, when we were in company he was as nice as pie. You’d think he bloody adored me, the way he carried on. It was just when we were on our own that he’d start and by then it was usually too late. The perfect ‘willing victim’, that was me.”
“Clearly.”
“The car thing though. That was the last straw as far as I was concerned. Bastard nearly killed me.”
The evening had not gone well. The restaurant Simon dragged her to had been Chinese and despite Rachel telling him she didn’t care for that style of cuisine much and could they please go somewhere else, he’d totally ignored her, insisting that she was going to enjoy herself even if she choked. Then he’d pulled out her seat, and under the watchful eye of the staff, complimented her on her hair as she’d painfully trawled through the menu before settling on a nondescript soup, followed by plain noodles.
Simon, naturally, didn’t listen to a word and after ordering what he thought she should eat and not what she actually wanted, he’d delighted in watching her trying to keep down Peking duck, fried beef in Oyster sauce and Chop Suey.
It was too much for her stomach to take, twisted as it was with nerves, and Rachel had nearly thrown up. And once outside and out of view of the diners sitting at the window, Simon had taken out his disapproval, shoving her up against the nearest brick wall and wrapping one hand round her throat whilst he’d dug into his pocket with the other and produced a disinfectant wipe which he’d vigorously rubbed across her mouth whilst shouting at her that she was a dirty, little slag and not fit to eat in decent company! Didn’t she know by now that he wouldn’t have it!
The wipe had then been thrown away, consigned to the other litter at their feet and Rachel had dared to speak. She was sorry, she’d said. She wouldn’t do it again. The meal had been delicious – honestly, she didn’t know why she felt so ill. Maybe, she half heartedly laughed, she was pregnant?
Silence. Measured in heartbeats. Then Simon had lunged and wrapping both hands around her throat, he’d squeezed, his face suddenly inches from her own and reddening with rage as he’d spat the word ‘ pregnant’ back at her. What the fuck was she talking about? Pregnant! She wasn’t bloody pregnant! She was a whore! A stupid, little whore.
Struggling, her hands batting feebly at his wrists, Rachel had opened her mouth to speak, but Simon hadn’t let her and squeezing harder, not seeming to care that he was killing her, she gasped for breath and slapped at his chest, her vision starting to darken.
Then just as suddenly as he’d started, he released her and down she went, hitting the pavement hard but weirdly grateful for it, because she could still feel, still breath, still want to slaughter the bastard standing in front of her in his shiny, bloody shoes, who looking at her with a slightly sick expression on his face, which he flamin’ deserved, had nearly killed her. the bastard!
He’d grabbed her then. Hard hands digging into her armpits as he’d hauled her to her feet and dragged her to the car, throwing her against the side and hissing at her to stop bloody coughing and be quiet as he climbed into the driver’s seat, reached across to unlock the passenger side and before she could get in, making a grab for the corner of her coat which he shut firmly in the car door before locking it and driving off, leaving Rachel to stumble along behind.
How far Simon dragged her, Rachel had no idea. Disorientated from almost being throttled to death and sickened by food she normally wouldn’t have looked twice at, she didn’t seem able to figure out how best to help herself and so she’d stumbled along behind, searching for passer bys to help her and seeing nothing but empty streets and dark houses.
She’d cried then, sobbing uncontrollably, as she’d yanked uselessly at her coat and tried desperately to keep up with the car. Then she’d fallen. Twisting her ankle and ripping both tights as she’d stumbled off the kerb and Simon, laughing and laughing had added pressure to the accelerator pedal.
“Didn’t it occur to you to just take off your coat?” Kate asked, trying not to sound as if she was stating the obvious. “That’s what I would have done.”
“Me too – in normal circumstances. But I was out of my mind with fright.
I didn’t know what I was doing!”
“I can imagine, you poor cow! But didn’t anyone try to stop him?”
“There was no one to stop him! We were parked in a side street. Sometimes I think deliberately.”
“Sometimes!” Kate repeated. “God, Rach, you’re too generous by far! It’s sick what he did to you. He must have been planning it for Christ’s sake! Sitting in that Chinese restaurant thinking about how he was going to torment you later! By the way.. Is that how your knees got all banged up or was that something else? I kinda noticed them earlier when we were in bed…”
Rachel blushed. “Yes. He only stopped when my coat ripped…”
“Right. So this all happened recently did it? Rachel? You have broken up with him haven’t you? Simon does know you’re not an item anymore?”
“Yes, of course I’ve broken up with him. You remember when you first met Polly at the coffee shop?”
Kate nodded.
“Well when I went outside that’s who I was calling. I broke up with him then.”
“But that was only…”
“A few days ago. Yes I know.”
“Shit! How did he take it?”
Eight
Polly filled Rachel in on Simon’s visit the moment she walked through the door.
It was Saturday afternoon and Kate was with her; although she was still outside in the front garden, finishing her cigarette and dodging the Autumn leaves that were just beginning to fall from the Beech tree standing beside the gate. The garden was neat.
Polly’s work, Kate thought, idly blowing cigarette smoke over her shoulder. Has to be, there isn’t a single weed in that free flower bed and look at lawn! What did she use to cut the edges with, scissors?
Peering towards the front door, and frowning at the sound of Rachel and Polly furiously discussing something inside, she figured she was probably better off out of it. It sounded serious in there, like a discussion they’d had many times before but were determined to go over yet again with neither side giving an inch.
Her cigarette finished, Kate ground it out under foot and stuffed the dog end in an old matchbox she kept just for that purpose. Then sitting on the doorstep, she picked at the grass and waited for Rachel to come outside and fetch her.
But it was Polly that came to the front door, and helping her up from the step, she smiled when Kate complained of a numb bum, and led her into the lounge, handing her a cup of coffee before offering her a more comfortable seat.
The lounge was comfortably furnished. The sofa, upholstered in a deep red, and with cream scatter cushions, matched the single armchair. A coffee table stood between them. Against the wall, a bookcase, stuffed with books and DVD’s, also played host to several flourishing pot plants and at the base of a fake gas fire sat several tall candles. The pictures on the walls were mainly landscapes of the beach. The largest showing Rachel and Polly hanging onto each other and laughing.
“I hear Rachel has told you about Simon.” Polly said without preamble, indicating that Kate should help herself to biscuits. “ He turned up here last night, you know, kicking down the door and demanding to know where Rachel was. Like I was going to tell him! Anyway, I told him to shove off and mind his own business, flippin’ idiot.”
Kate pulled a face. “I take it he’s persistent then. By the way, where’s Rachel?”
“Toilet.”
“Okay, while she’s gone, be honest with me. How worried should I be about this Simon? From what Rachel’s said he sounds like a right psychopath and I really don’t fancy coming across him if he’s gonna throw some sort of fit. Do you think he really will keep trying to get in touch with her?”
Polly shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine, but judging by last night, I’d say he’ll try for a bit longer yet. He’s really steamed up, Kate, and he seems determined not to let Rachel go. He was even ranting some rubbish about making her pay, although he didn’t go into details. But if you want my advice, I’d lie low for a bit. Avoid the places he and Rachel used to go, or better still, stay at home. Your home. He clearly doesn’t know about you so he won’t think to look for her there and I don’t mind being on my own for a bit. He wouldn’t dare touch me anyway. I’d rip his bloody head off!”
Kate smiled. “Yeah, I bet you would. But we can’t stay hidden forever, and why should we? Just because Rachel dumped him doesn’t give him the right to start stalking her and besides, if he sees us together, maybe he’ll get the message and sod off.”
“And maybe he won’t.” Polly warned. “You don’t know Simon and you didn’t see him last night. The guy practically kicked the door down, he was so incensed and it doesn’t help that the bastard is a total control freak. Did Rachel tell you about the time he made her shower seven times before he decided she was clean enough to go out with him? And that was one of the nicer things he put her through, so I really don’t think he’s going to accept you and Rachel going out together without a fight. Believe me, Kate, the best thing you can do is disappear for a while and let him get over it in his own time. I know it’s a pain and I know you shouldn’t have to, but I think it’s probably the best thing all round. Simon is not a bloke who handles rejection well.”
They stayed talking for another hour, joined again by Rachel and only half joking as they discussed ways of dealing with possible repercussions from Simon. Kate suggested they dig a moat, until Polly reminded her that getting hold of a drawbridge might be a little difficult in this day and age and Rachel suggested CCTV. An idea they tossed around for a little while before deciding it was a lot of expense for something they hopefully wouldn’t need.
Hungry, Polly offered to get take away and pulling on a baseball hat to go with her jeans and sweater, Rachel saw her to the front door before retuning to the lounge to find Kate studying the one and only picture she had of Simon.
“This him?” Kate asked, brandishing the photograph. “The evil one.”
Rachel nodded. “Fraid so. I only kept it because I was terrified he might turn up one day and find I didn’t have a picture of him.”
“So I can chuck it now, can I?” Kate asked, dangling the photograph over a rubbish bin already bulging with empty wine bottles and chocolate wrappers. “Or do you want to keep it? For old time’s sake.”
“Hell, no!” Rachel exclaimed. “Chuck it and be damned! I’ve got you now, and Polly and she’s like a Rottweiler when she’s angry. Simon won’t even get through the front door, let alone notice if his photograph’s missing or not. Talking of which, fancy the grand tour? It’s not as posh as your place I’m afraid, but, you know.. it’s home, humble as it is.”
Kate smiled and dropping the photograph into the bin, held out her hand. “Show me the way.” She said. “And start with the bedroom.”
Air freshener was the first thing he noticed when he swept open the door. Closely followed by the faint but undeniable whiff of stale urine.
Wrinkling his nose and fanning the air in front of his face, he quickly turned away. Lovely, he thought. A real improvement. Whichever blockhead had come up with the bright idea of a smoking ban in pubs had obviously never been in one, because who, exactly, preferred the smell of pine forest and old man’s pee to the aroma of tobacco, sweat and beer? Certainly no one he knew, but they were still stuck with it. Forced to inhale day old piss and any other crap until the cigarette manufactures’ finally worked out they were loosing a fortune and reversed the decision.
The bar was busy. Most of the larger tables taken up by chattering families, stuffing their faces with cheap, pub food and happy in the sanctimonious knowledge they could now do so without exposing their precious off-spring to the perilous poison of Old Virginia. The smaller tables meanwhile were commandeered by swarms of teenagers, comparing tattoos and pierced flesh whilst sipping half pints of beer or trendy vodka based fruit juices that tasted foul and took forever to get drunk on.
It m
ade him feel ill just watching them, and fervently wishing he had a spray can of disinfectant he could douse the lot of them with and destroy the germs and filth they had inevitably brought in with them, he stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets and vigorously fingered the antiseptic wipes he had nestled there. Not that he thought they would do much good. How could a single wipe defeat a sink hole of this magnitude? It was impossible. But it was still better than nothing.
He didn’t even know why he’d agreed to come to this grubby pit in the first place. There were far better pubs in town. Cleaner pubs, pubs that still smelt of beer and regularly cleaned their toilets. Pubs in which you could sit down without worrying whether you were sitting on gum or beer or baby vomit. Pubs that didn’t make him want to scratch every time he walked through the door.
At least his beer was waiting for him, even if the froth was spilling over onto a beer mat faded from constant saturation. And the man he had come to meet was also there. A thin, miserable looking specimen, who, instead of waiting, had already started his.
Which was bloody typical, Simon thought. He couldn’t have waited five, bloody minutes, could he? Oh, no, he’d had to start, chugging half of his pint down before he got there, and meaning he now had to forgo the savouring of his first pint just to keep up. And all because he hadn’t been able to fucking wait!
The pint tasted old, and when he smacked his lips, faintly of air freshener. Dumping it back on the bar he wiped his mouth with a clean handkerchief and turned round to stare at the glazed panel of the door. The bottom had a hair line crack in it and he glanced quickly at the teenagers, wondering if they’d had anything to do with it?
A young couple walked in, holding hands and shivering, the man wrinkling his nose when the smell from the toilets washed over them.
