Through the Dark Keyhole

by Rosalyn Richardson

  The following Monday, when we were back at college, I explained the outcome, regarding my parents. Matt was flabbergasted.

  Matt really was one in a million. He offered to come and meet them and speak to them to reassure them that he was genuine and only had my best interests at heart.

  I told him how much I appreciated his offer, but, because of being steeped in their religious ways, it was pointless, and as heart-wrenching as it was, I would have to conform, as I hadn’t any other income and that I hadn’t anywhere else to live.

  Matt, bless him, immediately said that he would have a word with his older sister, Amelia, and that he was sure that she would let me stay with her, rather than my having to live under the same roof as a tyrant and his accomplice, my mother. Matt confessed that he had been confiding in Amelia about me, and that she was extremely sympathetic and so he already knew that she would take me in.

  I said that I was extremely grateful, but I felt that I needed to be independent and that meant my being self-sufficient with a job and my own income. I knew that Matt understood. It was a tough decision to make, and that one day I would look back and ask the question – “What if it had happened differently? all those years ago.”

  The end of year came far too soon and Matt and I went out to a pub near to the college and we had our final drink together. Neither of us said much, but we hugged each other.

  I wished him well for the future and secretly I hoped that I would “accidentally” bump into him now and again in the town.

  That night, my heart felt like lead and inside I felt inconsolable.

  My father picked up on my obviously low mood and depressive state.

  I had to bite my tongue as my mother and father put on a sympathetic air.

  I walked into the living room after tea, my father, already spread out in the armchair with the television on full blast, extended his arm, and beckoned me to come and sit beside him.

  I mustered all the strength that I could to do so, but inside my feelings of bitterness and anger towards him were welling-up.

  “Natasha, I know that you’ve made a real tough decision about your friend, but you’ll see it is for the best.” He tried to sound convincing.

  I was too hurt to speak, so I just looked blankly at the floor. “You know the saying, ‘there’s always plenty more fish in the sea’?” That was not a quote that I wanted to hear.

  Father sounded triumphant as well, with the knowledge that he had won, and that his power was still very much in force. He wouldn’t have to lose face, with his daughter becoming involved with a “nonbeliever”.

  As you will see later, yes, there are other fish in the sea, but it was me who ended up with a shark!

  Chapter Four

  My opportunity arose to meet such a person when my parents and I attended a religious convention. In fact, as there were only three conventions a year, these became a “breeding ground” for youngsters and other single people to find someone to marry; suitable or not. The only criterion was that the person just had to be of that religion.

  I was approached by a man with dark brown hair, tall and slim. I was queuing for a cup of tea and a sandwich. He introduced himself to me as Andrew Horsforth. Meeting again on two other occasions, Andrew asked me to marry him and I jumped at the opportunity!

  Although we dated under supervision, as requested by the organisation, I felt that I hardly knew him. Even so, I still went ahead and married him. My parents and their religious organisation had accepted Andrew, and it would mean a new life for me, or so I hoped.

  Andrew was already living in his own house in a small town called Cray in Lancashire, quite a few miles away from my parents, I might add.

  Andrew worked for a nearby farmer. I managed to get a position in an employment office five miles away.

  I really enjoyed working with the public, even though it could be quite challenging at times. There was a vast number of staff and so I only really came to know a few who were on the same team as myself.

  I realised on our wedding night that we weren’t suited and that this marriage was going to be a test of endurance. Andrew was physically and sexually violent and expected things of me that totally shocked and hurt me. However, as will be reiterated later, marriage was for life and that was drummed into me continuously.

  I relished my time at work, away from Andrew. I found out all too quickly, that nothing would appease Andrew when he was in one of his moods, which happened to be most of the time.

  After one bad session, I awoke the next morning to a real shiner of a black eye on the right side of my face. There were plenty of stares as I made my way into work.

  My Team Leader, Stacey, immediately called me into her office before we opened.

  I’d never really found her very sympathetic to anyone except for Maisey, who just happened to be her best friend.

  I was dumbstruck when she seemed to show some feeling.

  “Natasha,” she began and then paused thoughtfully. “Please don’t think that I go around with my eyes conveniently shut. I’ve noticed the bruises on your arms, and one on your neck which you tried to disguise with makeup and a scarf, and now this,” she pointed at my eye.

  “You can’t go on like this. I can’t let you go out on the front line like that. The public, especially the vulnerable ones that we see every day, are going to think that this is acceptable, and that’s the last thing we want. It’s not good for the clients and it’s not good for you! I will give you until the end of the week to decide what you are going to do. I don’t have to be an expert to guess who is responsible for this, but I have a pretty good idea. Your husband doesn’t seem a particularly pleasant person. I’ve watched him on the odd occasion when he has come in here. Natasha, despite what impression you may have of me, I do care, believe it or not.”

  I was overwhelmed but I appreciated her frank approach to the situation.

  She finished by saying, “Thank goodness there aren’t any children involved, that really would complicate matters!”

  Little did Stacey know that about nine weeks earlier, I had found out that I was pregnant. This had evoked another row.

  Andrew and I had been at the top of the stairs which were quite steep and uncarpeted, when he did the unthinkable.

  Looking back, it wasn’t the best place to break it to him, and especially as I hadn’t told him earlier when I first knew. I just kept putting it off, knowing that he must know soon.

  He freaked-out, and fuelled by his usual eight cans of lager, lunged at me with such force, that I fell down the stairs.

  That night the pain was unbearable. After going through the motions as it were and the obvious signs, I couldn’t help but know that I had miscarried the baby. I made an appointment with my doctor. I didn’t explain the cause of my fall, I just said that I had totally missed my footing and fallen down the full flight of stairs. He advised me to go and get checked out at the hospital and that I would probably have a scan, but mainly that I needed to rest for the next few days. I agreed and I told him just off the top of my head, that I was moving and that I would let him know my new address.

  I didn’t go to the hospital. I just couldn’t face it and I didn’t feel that I had the emotional strength to keep the truth from anyone. Shoving this whole horrible event under the carpet, was what would have been expected of me by Andrew and my parents and all the others in the congregation. I suppose in some ways it was easier to do so, as only Andrew knew about my pregnancy. I didn’t even tell Andrew about the miscarriage as he would have been too thick and insular to even know what was happening.

  I rang-in to the office to speak to Stacey and I decided that I really needed to explain the situation. I had made a final decision to leave Andrew and to get as far away from him as possible.

  I took a deep breath, and went on to explain about the cause of the fall and its consequences and that the doctor, who didn’t know the full story had advised me to take time off work to rest.

  Stacey’s
reaction was so empathetic that I felt tears pricking my eyes as she spoke.

  She said that the time off work wasn’t a problem at all, and certainly was for the best.

  “Natasha, what are you going to do, you can’t go on like this, being used as a human punch bag?” Stacey asked firmly, as if jolting me into a reality check.

  “Well, I’m leaving him this week. I will bring my essentials and a packed bag and my friend Jayne has invited me to stay with her and her family for a few days,” I replied.

  Stacey was really pleased at my decision, and said comfortingly that if I needed any help to just let her know.

  I made sure that Andrew was at work, and then I quickly put my bag in the car.

  I arrived at work and I had a private talk with Stacey. She advised me to make an urgent appointment with my doctor, and to get a sick note, so that Andrew wouldn’t come looking for me at work. She would discreetly advise the other team managers on what to tell their staff to say, if he rang the office, as he certainly would. I thanked her for her help and concern and I said that I would keep in touch.

  I said my farewell before I left, to Anita who was on the same team as me, as we had become very good work colleagues. She seemed to take my departure quite badly. She was around the same age as me and a single mother of two. I had become a bit of an “agony aunt” to her. At times I had found it quite exasperating, but I had a lot of empathy for her.

  I then made my way over to Jayne’s in Hawsworth, North Yorkshire.

  Jayne knew that going to my parents’ house just wasn’t an option for me.

  When I had tried to talk to my parents about Andrew’s treatment of me, I always got the same answer, “Marriage is for life and that means no matter what!”

  Jayne was lovely and so was her husband, Tom. They had an eight month old baby called Callum. He was beautiful. Despite my sad experience, I was quite close to Callum.

  The following morning, I made my last visit to Grasmere to the surgery. I advised my doctor that Stacey had said that it would be a good idea for me to be off work for a short period, and that I would be staying with my friend for a few days. He asked me if I was still moving as I had mentioned the last time and I said that I was but that Mr Cunningham didn’t know. The doctor gave a gentle smile, and wished me all the best, and finally said, “I’m glad that you are putting yourself first for once, Natasha.”

  After a couple of days at Jayne’s, I asked her if she would come with me to the local council offices, and she agreed.

  I explained that I was homeless and needed accommodation. It wasn’t long before I saw a property to let on the internet at a place called Brooke. This was a private rental and after ringing the telephone number as advertised, I rang the landlord. I arranged a suitable mutual time to look round the tiny one bedroomed flat.

  Later that day when Jayne had managed to arrange with Tom to look after Callum, we met Mr Brent who had the key to the flat.

  It was in a block of three in a small cul-de-sac of bungalows. This flat was the top one. It was very basic, almost like a bedsitter, but it had all the amenities that I needed. Jayne gave her welcome approval and so I agreed with Mr Brent that I would like to go ahead and rent it.

  Jayne said that I could have a single bed out of her spare room and linen to go with it, and she had an armchair that I could have. The rest, I was going to buy at my leisure.

  I wrote my resignation letter to Stacey, saying that it wasn’t safe for me to return to work and that it wasn’t going to be that practical either. She soon replied and sent me a signed card from various people in the office, a box of chocolates and a bottle of my favourite Chardonnay.

  I wrote to my parents without forwarding them my address. I couldn’t face their anger and I couldn’t trust them not to tell Andrew where I was.

  Just as expected, my mother rang me on my mobile and I could hear my father in the background saying I was a disgrace to them and to the “faith”. I had the insult of being told that Andrew was a good man and was an elder in the congregation and it was he that had been wronged. I ended her call abruptly, took a deep breath and thought, Well Natasha, here’s to the new start in your life, and I toasted myself with a glass of Chardonnay.

  I made an appointment the following day to see a solicitor and set divorce proceedings in place.

  After explaining my plight and what I had to live through, the solicitor agreed that I would have no problem obtaining the divorce, and assured me that my address would remain unknown to Andrew for my safety.

  My solicitor informed me that Andrew of course, objected to his unreasonable behaviour and he didn’t admit any of it. I did have my medical records and Jayne did a statement for me.

  Not soon enough, I was set free, and I was then officially declared as Ms Cunningham.

  My new neighbours were mostly elderly, but those who I did get a chance to meet were adorable and looked upon me as a daughter to take care of.

  I was often presented with a cooked meal and given pots of jam and chutney that they had made extra portions of. They took turns putting my bins out if I wasn’t about, or if I had forgotten. In return, I would pop in over the weekends and have a cup of tea with them and a biscuit or some cake. Many of them were just lonely and wanted a chat.

  Although my life had now sorted itself out and I was now safe and independent, everything began to feel humdrum and boringly routine. I longed for a challenge, and soon the chance arose with a bang!

  Chapter Five

  I arrived home one tea time, I had been to Jayne’s for the day. I kicked off my shoes as I came through the door and went into the tiny kitchen and opened the fridge and poured myself a glass of white wine. I picked up the local weekly times which had been posted through my door.

  I settled on the tiny balcony at the back of the flat, which had a single chair and a small table.

  It was a warm summer evening. I could smell the aroma of the different teas cooking, as they wafted up towards me. I mused as my nostrils breathed in the different mixtures, and tried to guess for a second, what each of the dishes were.

  I felt really relaxed. The noise of the evening traffic began to slowly die down. I picked up the newspaper from the picnic table.

  Briefly I flipped over the pages, which I had only browsed over. Suddenly though, something caught my eye. It was an advert for an office on the newly built business park, Ryedale Park. It was situated on the outskirts of Ryedale which was a beautiful and picturesque village in North Yorkshire. I’d only briefly been in that area once when Jayne had invited me to come with her to deliver a parcel to an accountancy firm there for Tom. I remembered how breath-taking it was. Ryedale was like the gateway to the dales.

  I thought to myself, this must be a positive sign. Here I was, thinking about setting up my own secretarial business and then I see this advert for an office at Ryedale Business Park.

  At lunchtime the following day, I contacted a Mr Myers and expressed an interest in the advert for the vacant office. The following day was Saturday and so we arranged to meet on site at ten a.m.

  As usual, places look better when the sun is out, but here at Ryedale, it made it look spectacular. I guessed there were roughly ten units on site. Around the communal carpark were well maintained lawns.

  Mr Myers arrived in his Mercedes Benz. We exchanged names and shook hands, and as we made our way to the empty office, he chatted a bit, telling me about the neighbouring businesses.

  I already knew through Jayne about the accountancy firm and that it was run by two brothers. Mr Myers went on to tell me that there was a curtain making business, a sweet making factory, carpet fitters, toolmakers, and the largest one I could see, which had a prominent sign on it, above the door, Garside Furniture Restorers.

  I was intrigued. Mr Myers explained that Garside’s restored all kinds of furniture, antiques as well and that they were even well known abroad. He added that Mr Garside was very often out of the country seeing his long list of clients.
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br />   The small office round the back was functional. It did have a desk and a chair already in it. There was a wash basin, a cupboard and a work top where I could have a kettle to make hot drinks. Mr Myers explained that there was a communal area if needed, with toilets and a larger kitchen with a microwave and a small fridge.

  This was a massive step and a financial commitment to take on, but it felt too good to miss. I made an agreement with Mr Myers to go in first thing on the Monday to sign the lease and pay the deposit.

  As soon as I went back to my car, I rang Jayne and I told her what I had done.

  I think Jayne first thought that I had suffered from a mental block, but loyal and dependable as she always was, she supported me.

  For once, Monday morning couldn’t come soon enough. Although my office supplies were extremely limited, I could make a start on advertising and I knew of advertising suppliers not far away, who could design some flyers for me. I would also contact the local newspapers and arrange an advert for my services.

  I had arranged to meet up with Mr Myers again that morning and complete the necessary paperwork.

  As I drove into the car park, I saw and heard a buzz of activity. As I was about to get out of my car, a black Bentley pulled up beside me. Almost in unison, Mr Myers parked up on the other side of my car.

  As I got out of the car, Mr Myers spoke to the gentleman in the Bentley, whose name I was not yet aware of.

  I heard Mr Myers comment with the good old-fashioned conversation starter of the British weather.

  Mr Myers asked the other gentleman how he had coped in Dubai with the heat there.

  I then had a feeling that this must be the Mr Garside who Mr Myers had mentioned on the previous Saturday.

  As I approached them, Mr Garside extended his hand to shake mine. He introduced himself and I politely responded.

  For a moment I was cemented to the spot as my eyes and brain took in the stature and appearance of the man by my side.

  He was around six foot tall. His hair was greying, which made him look very distinguished. He had a neatly trimmed moustache and chocolate brown eyes. I always had a fetish for men with brown eyes, and to see these perfect eyes looking down at me, had already stopped me in my tracks.