LEAVING GEORGE
Diane M Dickson
Published by
The Book Folks
London, 2015
© Diane M Dickson
A polite note to the reader
This novel is written in British English hence some spellings and linguistic conventions may differ from North American usage. We hope you enjoy the book!
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 1
She’d done it – she’d left him.
She would miss the cat.
The front door slammed as Pauline stepped into the bright day full of sunshine and hope. Her face lifted in a smile. She hardly dared to believe that at last it might all be behind her; the lies, the fear and the fraudulent image that life had become.
As she took the first steps her insides bubbled with a breathless excitement. The thrill was tenuous though; a traitorous worry squirmed beneath the pleasure. She tried to ignore it but the sliver of fear had her glancing at her watch. Even as her feet covered the ground her brain played and re-played the plan and the timings, the what-ifs and maybes.
The little pink phone had blinked from the hall stand as she’d passed. There had been a moment’s hesitation but she could take no risk that he might trace her. She had read that the police, if he went to them, could find the location of a mobile if it was switched on and so she had left it behind.
Perhaps it had been him calling? He had received no answer. What would he do? Maybe she should have answered?
It could have been him and now she had missed the chance to reassure him that all was as normal.
Should she go back?
Perhaps she should go back, call him. She could pretend to be checking the time he was due home.
But a deeper part of herself knew it was too late to go back now.
She mustn’t go back, must never go back. She paused, took a steadying breath. It was essential to remain calm, to be strong.
Her beautiful garden glowed in the late morning heat and she filled her eyes with a last lingering look and tucked the memory away. Haze was already rising from the road surface and so she squeezed her jacket into the top of the bag, she dragged off her knitted hat and pushed a hand through her short brown hair. She had a long walk ahead and although she knew the timings from driving the route; the estimate she had made for the journey on foot was little more a calculated guess. Then her gaze was pulled to the car port and she frowned sadly at the little blue Peugeot snoozing in the shade. It would be so much easier to slide into the plastic scented heat and drive away in comfort.
Yet like the phone, taking the car would only increase the chances that George might find her and so it must be forfeit.
This plan had been forming for years, ever since the first blows, the early bruises. It had begun as a wish, grown into hope and now it was the only way: it was essential that she escape.
As her husband of twenty years snored on the settee she had schemed and calculated. She would leave him, when he was away at the annual conference. She would just pack and go. She would find the strength because if not now then never and her life would be over. All that would remain would be a grey future of depression and failure and fear; always the fear chewing away at her insides…
The metal gates clanged and she turned her face to the hills. How poetic that sounded, but it was necessity, not glamour, taking her left instead of right. The road to the village wound down past Mavis and Simon’s house and on a bright summer day Mavis would be gardening and would want to chat. There was no time now for chat, no time for any delay.
The road to the left climbed to open moor, rounded a bend and then snaked out of sight. There was one farm with a barking dog and some cows who would no doubt glance at her with beautiful, vacant eyes. After that, nothing until the crossroads and the pub where she would wait at the bus stop.
Pauline took a deep cleansing breath, her shoulders twitched settling the bag more comfortably and she strode on, lithe and supple. Her muscles were strong from miles and miles of hiking and from the decorating and gardening she did. Time filling; busy work that numbed her mind and squeezed out the disappointment and the sadness and the nagging, ever present dread.
But now finally it was over. She was free. George would be away until Sunday and it was only Wednesday. Reflecting, she pushed the worry about the phone call away. It would have been sales, as usual. She mustn’t panic. He wouldn’t bother to ring her for a chat; they didn’t have that sort of relationship; hadn’t for years. What he would expect would be a clean home to come back to, a hot meal ready and her obedience in every way, even though she would detect on him the smell of his current mistress; the reek of betrayal.
The smile broadened. After all this time, she had been brave enough to get up and take back her life.
Thank heavens for Granddad. It had felt like a disappointment when her inheritance had been tied up until she was forty. George had bullied and nagged but in the end they had been unable to have the will overturned. “It will come in handy when we get it. We don’t need it now and it’s in a good investment plan. I’m sure Gramps meant well.” The solicitor was adamant and so she had won that little battle by default. George hadn’t been happy about it but there was nothing he could do except to vent his anger on her in his own inimitable, brutal way.
She raised her eyes and muttered into the warm, summer air. “Thank you Gramps. You saved me. I don’t know why you did it this way but I’m so glad you did.”
The trust had matured when she turned forty. She told George it was in hand and convinced him it would be in their joint account by the end of the month. She had crossed her fingers and wagged papers at him praying that he wouldn’t insist on examining them closely. He hadn’t; he was wrapped up in his newest affair and spent so many nights ‘working late’ that he let his guard slip, convinced he had it all under control. It had been scary; so much depended on fooling him but it was over…
But now she had won.
She gave a little skip. He wouldn’t find her. By the time he came back from Edinburgh she would be long gone. In spite of herself she glanced behind, down the road that would bring him home. What if the conference finished early? What if he was unwell and came back? Everything – the whole thing – depended on his being away until the weekend. Her stomach clenched, the urge to run now was overwhelming.
It was fine. It was all fine. He wasn’t
coming, she had judged it right.
The cottage on the coast was booked and there was no reason for him to ever think of the little out of the way place she had chosen in Cornwall. After that it was France and the lovely place in the countryside, already hers, bought online. It had been a massive risk but desperation made her brave at last. The rest of the money would keep things ticking over a good while and by the time she needed to earn some more then the holiday flats would be set up. Thank God for school French and for Google information and hours and hours alone in the house. It was thrilling and scary and wonderful.
She glanced at her watch. Three hours until the bus was due at the country stop. A car sped past heading towards the village. She turned her face away, just in case. She hadn’t recognised the vehicle. It was going far too fast for the narrow road, probably an outsider.
As she breasted the brow of the hill a frown wrinkled her forehead. “Oh no!” A motor bike was slewed across the road. Deep gouges scarred the black surface and the body of a sheep lying in a thickening pool of blood painted a picture that was all too clear.
Where the hell was the rider?
He must be in the ditch. She leapt forward. The sheep was quite dead, thank heavens. It was one less thing to cope with but where the hell was the rider? She ran along the side of the road peering down into the water weed and grass. He must be here somewhere! Unless he had come off and been lucky enough to walk away? No, if that was the case then he would surely have moved the bike. The sheep carcass might be beyond many people but the bike was lying across the highway, leaking petrol and oil.
She darted back and forth across the narrow road. There! She spotted him dumped in the ditch like a broken doll. Tripping and sliding she scrambled down the embankment into the cold, brackish flow of water at the bottom. Her hiking boots would keep the water out but she had to kneel to reach the motionless body. Cold seeped through the knees of her blue linen trousers. She reached a hand towards him. Oh shit don’t let him be dead. “Hello, hello, can you hear me?”
Chapter 2
He was cold. The ditch water was chilly despite the heat of the day. The rider had landed with his legs in the muddy mess and his torso and head against the bank. She knew she mustn’t move him and mustn’t take off the safety helmet. The leather of his jacket was stiff as she pushed back the sleeve. She knew where to look for a pulse and as she felt the faint but regular beat Pauline weakened with relief.
She slipped a hand into her trouser pocket. “Shit.” The phone was sitting on the table in the hall.
The man shivered and groaned. On the one hand this was a huge relief but out here in the middle of nowhere she needed medical aid quickly. His mobile was the only option. He must have one, everyone had one. “Sorry, I’m sorry.” Though she didn’t think he could hear her, apology came automatically to her lips as she reached for the pockets in his jeans. They were torn, how odd that the stress of the accident had done that, the white lining was flapping out at one side. She felt in the cold water, perhaps his phone had flown out. Would it be ruined by the fall, the water? It wasn’t there anyway and so she must think again. Tears fell across her cheeks, tears of fear and shock and frustration but she had to ignore them. Tears wouldn’t help him.
She pushed back and lifted her head to peer over the top of the ditch. Her glance skittered across the grassy bank and the roadway. He had been thrown a long way. One of his gloves was lying between them and the bike but no phone.
Panic threatened. She beat it back.
She leaned to him patting and rooting, he must have a phone. A tiny cable snaked from the side of his helmet and down into a slim pocket at the top of his jacket – “Yes.” She dragged out the Nokia and unplugged the helmet device.
She was still in familiar territory and so gave clear directions to the ambulance service. The dispatcher asked the obvious questions. Was he breathing? – Yes. Was his airway clear? – Yes. Was he conscious? – No, Was he bleeding? – Not as far as she could see but he was shivering now and groaning. They told her to keep him warm.
She scrambled up to the road and dragged out her jacket. Back in the ditch she tucked it round him, careful to keep it out of the water. It wouldn’t be warming if it was damp. She thought he tried to open his eyes. “Hello. Can you hear me?” No response. “I’m Pauline, you’re okay. The ambulance is coming.” She didn’t know whether he could hear but it helped to talk to him and draw some strength from the sound of her own voice.
The birds had been quiet when she first came across the scene but now they had begun to call and sing. It was surreal to sit in a wet ditch holding the hand of a stranger and sending out fearful wishes for him not to die. Waiting and praying for the ambulance to be quick and the whole horrible episode to be over while above her the birds sang into the great basin of blue sky and bees buzzed in the blossom lining the roadside.
“My name’s Pauline. I have just come down the road. I think you might be hurt so you need to keep still.” There was still no response but she kept going. Maybe he could hear her. Maybe it would help him to know that he wasn’t alone. “I don’t normally come down here in the middle of the day. It gets too hot. Not enough shade on the roadside. Mind you perhaps that’s a good thing. It would have been awful if you’d hit a tree.
“The sheep is dead. Don’t feel bad, they wander all over the road, there are some killed every year. I expect the farmer will claim on his insurance.
“The ambulance shouldn’t be long. I think it’s about twenty minutes from town. I’ve asked them to hurry. The lady at the other end told me to keep talking to her but your phone battery is flat now.
“I was leaving. I was leaving my husband. That’s how come I was here today. I’m starting a whole new life.
“I wish I knew your name.”
He groaned again and she believed that he squeezed her fingers. Was he coming round? She was shocked then to find that she didn’t want him to. She wanted someone else here, someone to tell him what to do and to take the responsibility.
She squeezed back.
“Lie still; don’t try to move. I don’t know how badly you’re hurt. Just keep still. I won’t leave you. I’ll stay here. Try to relax.”
Finally, with blessed relief she heard the siren in the distance. “Oh they’re coming. They’re here. You’ll be okay now.”
In a flurry of movement and noise the road was filled. The ambulance and a police car screamed to a halt. Men and women in uniform placed cones and lights on the road, radios crackled. The EMT technicians clambered down the grassy bank.
“Hello love. Are you okay? I’m Dave. We’ll look after him now. Do you know him? Hey steady, steady. Chris, help this lady will you?”
The relief and withdrawal of adrenalin swept her from her feet and as the world spun, darkness crawled in from the edges to take her away...
“Put your head down love, just put your head down.” She was sitting at the roadside, her head lowered between her knees, a strong arm around her shoulders and calm words whispering into her ears. The buzzing and blackness receded and her stomach heaved. “It’s alright love, take some deep breaths. Everything is going to be okay now.”
Slowly she lifted her head. The ambulance man was crouched beside her smiling. “You’ve done a great job. What’s your name love?”
“Pauline, I’m Pauline. Is he alright? He was wet, his legs. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t move him but his legs were wet.”
“Well Pauline, you’ve done a good thing here today. Better wet legs than useless legs eh? You did just the right thing. Well done.” He wrapped a silver blanket around her tucking it tightly under her arms. “You’ve had a bit of a shock but you’ll be right as rain in a minute or two. We are sending for the air ambulance for our friend in the ditch, just in case he has back injuries. We’ll look after him, don’t you worry. When you’ve had a minute to pull yourself together we’ll get one of the bobbies to take you home, change out of that wet blouse eh. Back home and a nice c
up of tea. Bet you’d like that, eh Pauline?”
Chapter 3
As the shivering stopped and her stomach settled Pauline shrugged off the survival blanket. All around there was activity. The crackle of radios and the calm but hurried movement of the uniforms created an urgent but controlled atmosphere on the quiet road. She watched them unload equipment from the ambulance and listened to a hum of voices behind her in the ditch.
Tiny white fluffballs sailed across the sky and she flapped away flying insects that buzzed her face. The day moved on with its business. The flurry of activity and drama just a few feet away from where she sat made barely a ripple in the greater pool of life.
“Are you okay now Pauline?” A policewoman stood in front of her. Pauline raised her eyes and squinted in the brightness.
“Yes, I’m okay I think. How is he?” She swept her hand in the direction of the ditch.
“He’s still unconscious. They are putting him on a board to make sure they don’t hurt his back and the air ambulance is on its way. They’re giving him oxygen and fluids. They’re just doing their thing you know.” Pauline nodded. “About you though. First of all thanks for everything you did; you may well have saved his life. Not many people come this way during the week and he could have laid there for hours. That wouldn’t have done him any good at all.”
“Oh, I only did what anyone else would do and I don’t know that I helped that much. I’m not good with drama.”
“Well you were pretty good with this one so as I say, thanks. Now, as soon as you’re ready we can take you home. You’ll want to get out of those wet trousers I bet and then once you’re feeling up to it we can take a statement.”
“A statement? Oh… I don’t think I… erm… I mean, why do you need that?”
“It’s just procedure, just so what has happened is all on record. Nothing to worry about and as I say, we can do it at home when you’re more relaxed. I can take you in my car. I assume you live local; you weren’t driving just now?”
Leaving George Page 1
