by C R Martens
“That beating was the one my mum never recovered from, she started to retreat inwards. We only saw friends and family when there were no bruises and those days were few and far between.”
“I have to go, now,” he said out of nowhere, packing up his things.
“Excuse me? Why?” Eve asked in wonder. “I haven’t even finished.”
“I have other cases – clients!” His slip of the tongue didn’t go unnoticed. “But you just sit there for as long as you need. Gather your thoughts. We’ll continue next time.”
Giving her no chance to respond further to his action, the fake psychologist left Eve sitting alone in a small dark cupboard of a room with all her demons dancing around her. Eve’s past was literally flashing before her living eyes. That’s when she heard the camera zoom in. She could almost feel the breath of the controller on the back of her neck. But she should have been used to it; in this job, you are never alone.
5.
Not talking about things was my downfall. When you are put through the wringer, there has to be made room for an outpour. Children shouldn’t be silenced. I didn’t have the tools required to get through all that happened in my childhood. I don’t even think I have the emotional capacity as an adult to deal with it correctly either when it’s been neglected so long.
“Right, it’s been a few weeks,” he said, starting very engaged. “Why is that?”
“I had a hearing I had to attend,” Eve said. “And prior to that, I had a lot of meetings with lawyers. But it wasn’t me who ran out mid-session last time.”
“Right.” He wasn’t engaged in the conversation anymore; his head was back in his notebook. “I don’t particularly like the routine of sessions being disrupted; it delays the healing process and can alter it.”
“Are you even listening? If you don’t like the interruption, don’t run out of a session,” she repeated, every word pronounced clearly. Eve didn’t like his newly-acquired attitude. “And how could it possibly alter the story when it’s the past?” she asked, curious at his irritation about the disruption.
“I had a patient emergency,” he said briefly. “Well, if you can remember where we left off last time, then please start.”
“I can. You do know that’s a part of the job – having a good memory?” she said and then continued her story. “I don’t know how my mum did it. But she did. It was the end of June 1994. I was eight, almost nine years old, and Henry was three. The school summer holiday had just begun. John had had another violent outburst, and like so many times before, I had crawled down from my top bunk to comfort my brother. He was now so old that he would get frightened by the sounds of a struggle. My biggest concern was that John might hear him and then blame my mum for waking him up. So I would keep him as quiet as I could, singing songs, telling stories, but only in a whisper. I didn’t even know if he could hear me under my little hands. It isn’t easy to comfort someone else when you yourself are terrified. That night Mum came into our room to sleep on the floor again. You couldn’t really see she had been attacked, John had gotten better at focusing his anger towards her body rather than her face. Her arms, her clavicles and the start of her neck were almost always bruised; it was not easy to explain a turtleneck jumper in spring. The beatings had become more frequent as John was drinking more, which was a nice excuse for him to use the following day. He ignored me as much as he could. Mum hid her contempt for him, but I didn’t and he didn’t want to be reminded of the monster he was every minute of every day so he avoided looking at me altogether. Just as I made sure to be in his way as much as possible – I was the only guilty mirror he couldn’t bribe (Henry), charm (Mum) or drink away (himself).
“It was a Tuesday morning and everything was as normal. John pleaded for forgiveness at Mum’s feet and like all the other times she demanded he go get help for his problems.
“‘I’m going to make it up to you,’ he promised. ‘I’ll see you tonight.’ He kissed her on her cheek, she just stood there, didn’t say anything back to him. He drove off and Mum stood watching his car leave the driveway, but she kept standing there, hidden behind the curtain watching him for as long as she could see him. She never used to do that. We sat down for breakfast.
“‘Today they are going to the outdoor swimming pools,’ I said. Though school had finished, I was still going to the kids’ club every day because Mum had to work – she couldn’t get seven weeks off from work. Mum worked as an office manager at a big company, she was a clever woman. The kids’ club was a council-run place where children would go when school was out, while their parents were still at work. ‘It costs 20 kroner, can I go?’ I asked, but Mum was miles away. Henry had hardly touched his porridge at all, tired from being up when he should have been sleeping, but she hadn’t noticed. I was used to her being in a daze. I got up to get some paper tissue and wiped Henry’s face, then I started to lift him out of his chair so he could go play instead. He was getting heavy, too heavy for the high chair he was sitting in and too heavy for me to lift much longer. I thought Mum was quiet because she was too tired and hurt from the night before – sometimes she would disappear into herself after an attack. I worried a lot about her.
“‘I don’t have to go,’ I said quietly. ‘Or I can stay at home and play with Henry.’
“‘You can’t go,’ she finally said. ‘You’re not going to the club today.’ I looked at her a little puzzled and a little sad that I couldn’t go.
“‘Why?’ I asked. However, Mum was back to looking fraught and nervous and being distant. She got up and went over to the window.
“‘I’ll explain a little later,’ she said, and then turned around. ‘But if John returns then you tell him you are going, okay?’
“‘Okay,’ I said. I was confused and not used to having to lie to John. She knew it was a lot to ask of me and she rarely (as in, never) wanted to implicate Henry or me in any lies. An hour went by where Mum went back and forth between the kitchen and living-room window. She had lined up all of our shoes, ready to be put on at a moment’s notice, our jackets lay over the hallway chair, and our bags were all ready with packed lunches and everything we used for our usual every-day routine.
“‘Okay,’ Mum finally said, kneeling down in front of me. ‘Eve, we are leaving today. Start packing your things and can you help Henry, too?’ A shock went through my body, I didn’t quite believe her, but I instinctively knew what she meant.
“‘Really?’ I asked with a shaking voice and tears in my eyes. She handed me some large bin bags to fill with all of our stuff.
“‘Yes,’ she said, drying my face. ‘Will you help your brother?’
“Of course, I would help him. I took his little hand and walked him into our room.
“‘We’re leaving,’ I told him in a whisper as I sat on my knees in front of him. He smiled but didn’t really grasp the enormity of the situation. ‘Let’s get all your toys first.’ We started putting all our things into the bin bags. My heart was beating fast, but this time it wasn’t out of fear, it was an incomprehensible relief that made me anxious.
“The doorbell rang and I jumped. Mum came flying up the stairs from the basement and opened the door. A man stood there, he was from the moving company Mum had hired. I heard Mum instruct him to go around the back to the basement door. Mum closed the front door and went running down the stairs to the basement. I looked out the window to the back and watched Mum and the man move all our old furniture out and into the van. Then Mum came back in and packed the rest of our stuff while the man helped carry out our toys.
“‘Put on your shoes and jackets and take your bags,’ Mum said. ‘And go out and wait by the car.’ We did and then Mum went into the house one last time. She came back out, locked the door and stood there for a moment, looking at the front door.
“I stood with Henry, his hand in mine, and looked at the yellow-brick house with the thorn-filled garden and I hoped it would be the last time I would see it. Mum talked with the moving man and said good
bye to him.
“‘Where is he going?’ I asked when he drove off. Henry was asking a million questions in the backseat, but not many of them made much sense. He was really just saying anything and everything that popped into his head.
“‘He is taking our things to a storage place,’ Mum said and took Henry and placed him into the car seat. We all sat in the car looking at the house for one last time, Mum was crying. I didn’t. I comforted Mum and stayed strong for her and Henry. We drove off into the unknown. None of us knew what was going to happen. I took a deep breath, feeling the relief wash over me. We all felt a sense of freedom, terrified at what would happen now, but free.’” Eve finished.
“Good,” said the psychologist. He was back to his usual self, not giving a crap. “Well that’s enough for today, I think. Shall we ju…”
“Same time next week?” she asked. “Well, I’d love to, but I can’t. So, let’s do Thursday, we can say the same time, though. Good, that’s settled then.”
And before he could interject, Eve had left the room. She was getting tired of talking about her past to herself. She hoped that this little stunt would rattle them a little; they obviously had her schedule and she hated that they were steering her life, monitoring her every movement.
***
It was late afternoon when the three of them arrived at a hotel; they had been driving around most of the afternoon. First to the storage place to put away their lives and lock up the past, after that Ruth had taken them to MacDonald’s – a place they had never been before but instantly loved. Ruth had used the payphone in the restaurant talking in a hushed tone to someone. Eve could see her mum had felt ashamed. Eve dragged her feet up the stairs of the hotel while her mum carried Henry who had fallen asleep in the car. It was a small room, with just one double bed and an even smaller bathroom. The room was decorated in a brown and orange colour scheme.
“Eve,” her mum whispered and pointed at the bed. Eve pulled away the duvet. “Thank you.” Ruth put Henry down on the bed, took his shoes and jacket off and tucked him in. Eve sat on a chair in the corner, staring into nothing. She was also tired but couldn’t go to bed yet.
“Eve,” her mum said, interrupting her thoughts. “I am just going to run down and get the rest of our things. Are you okay to stay here with Henry?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” Eve said. She sat in the dim-lit hotel room thinking of where they might be and what might happen tomorrow and the next day, and what happened when she had to go back to school or if she was going back at all. It was all so very overwhelming. Sitting there she felt her head starting to hurt and she could hardly breathe. As quietly as she could, the almost nine-year-old girl sat alone in the corner of a dark hotel room and had her first panic attack. Feeling the walls collapsing down around her, her ears ringing and her head getting heavy, it was like someone was sitting on her chest; it was all very surreal and alarming. She didn’t cry, but little droplets of sweat crawled down her forehead indicating her distress. When she heard her mum at the door, she pulled herself together and went to help her with the bags, never telling her mum how bad she really felt – her mum didn’t need any more worries. So, she boxed it up and pretended it never happened.
The next morning Eve woke early, her mum was sleeping in the chair with her legs resting on the corner of the bed. Henry was laying across the bed, his feet poking Eve in the ribs. Highly annoying. Eve sat up and her mum opened her eyes. “Good morning darling,” Eve’s mum said. Eve smiled back at her, Henry started to giggle and pulled the duvet over his head to hide. For the first time in a long time, they were all relaxed. They got dressed and packed up what little belongings they had with them, but before they left the hotel room, Ruth made a phone call. Eve stood brushing her teeth and couldn’t quite get the full conversation, only that her mum had arranged something.
They left the hotel, Ruth was nervous leaving, constantly looking around and over her shoulders. As they drove away, Eve tried to recognise her surroundings but it all seemed alien to her, and driving around in their little white car, she felt they were going around in circles. When the car finally stopped, they might as well have driven out of the country, but they hadn’t, they hadn’t even left the city. They parked in front of the biggest mansion Eve had ever seen – to Eve it looked like a castle. Two women came out of the front door and disappeared behind a great white wall, only to reappear by an enormous iron gate. There were no signs to tell Eve where they had arrived. They all got out of the car and walked over to the gate, Henry on his mother’s arm and Eve holding her hand.
“Hello, Ruth,” one of the women said smiling. The other woman pushed in a code on a keypad by the gate. They creaked and started rolling apart. “Hello, you two, you must be Henry and Eve. I am Sophie and I work here.”
The three of them walked through the gate and up the stairs to the mansion and through the huge doors. Eve felt small in the vastness of the hall with its swirling staircase and giant chandelier. It all seemed more surreal than the yellow-brick house. Was she dreaming?
“Come through here,” Sophie said, showing them through to another great room with ceilings so high Eve had to crane her neck all the way back to see the full height. Sophie closed all the doors, but Eve saw children playing in the connecting room before the door was closed between them.
“Why don’t you two play in the corner there while your mum and I talk?” Sophie asked politely. Ruth gave them a little nod of reassurance. Henry and Eve sat drawing at the little play table, but Eve kept one ear focused on the conversation her mum was having with Sophie.
“Have you called him since you left?” Sophie asked, pulling out a pen and paper from her desk.
“No, I haven’t,” Ruth replied, still nervous. “I left a note.”
“Well, that’s the first thing we need to do,” Sophie said, pushing the phone in Ruth’s direction. “He may already have called the police or he may do so after this call, but he can do that all he wants to, okay?” Sophie put a reassuring hand on Ruth’s. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Why do I have to call him?” Ruth’s voice was shaking.
“The thing is, no matter his violent tendencies or his history of abusive behaviour, he still has parental rights as you two have joint custody,” Ruth said. “I know it’s awful finally having gotten away only to have to confront him again. Unfortunately, though, the law gives him certain rights too.”
“What happens if he has, though? If he has called the police?” Ruth asked. Eve wasn’t drawing anymore; she was just watching the conversation.
“We are used to dealing with the police. Besides, the law is on your side, even though it may not seem like it at the moment,” she said. “Especially now that we have photographic evidence.”
So, Ruth picked up the phone and started dialling John’s number, her heart racing and palms sweating and then she handed the phone to Sophie.
“Hello,” John answered.
“Hi, John,” said Sophie. It was clear she had done this before. “My name is Sophie and I am calling on behalf of Ruth. She is currently under the protection of the women’s abuse shelter and this is merely to inform you that Ruth and the children are okay, now.”
“Where exactly is this shelter?” he asked with a calm and cold attitude.
“All you need to know is that it is somewhere safe,” Sophie said. “I believe you will, if you haven’t already, hear from Ruth’s solicitor.”
“Right. You think you can take my child just like that?” He was getting angry. “She hasn’t left me, she will be back here where she belongs before long.”
“I highly doubt that,” Sophie continued. “A restraining order has been taken out against you, so if you go near her or Henry the police will be called.” Sophie hung up the phone. But Eve sat thinking: what about her, was John allowed to go near her? Eve watched her mum crumble at the desk and Sophie coming to her aid. All the uncertainties of the future were almost as unbearable to think of as the prospect of going back to
John. At that moment, everything seemed hopeless.
Eve couldn’t concentrate on what Sophie was saying as she showed them through the mansion. They walked up three flights of stairs to the top floor perched underneath the roof; it was the first room on the floor that Sophie showed them into.
“This is your room,” she said, gesturing for them to come in. “I know it’s small, but we are at full capacity right now, so this is all we can offer.”
“It’s fine,” Ruth said. “It’s better than the circumstances we’ve come from.”
“Where are we going to sleep?” Eve asked, noticing a lack of beds.
“Um, that is a sofa bed, it pulls out and becomes a bed, for you and your mum to share.” Sophie smiled. “And there’s a travel cot behind the door – here – for the little chap.”
“Thank you,” Ruth said. “We’ll get on fine here. Can I just leave these two here while I get out the rest of our things from the car?”
“Sure you can, it’s your home now, and you can behave as you do normally,” Sophie said. “We only have the few rules I explained earlier and those are purely for your safety.” Sophie left and the three stood there in the little room in the great mansion, all alone and yet still surrounded by people. The rules were simple – you had to inform the staff if you were having guests and the abuser was never allowed on the property. There was an informal curfew and you needed to let the staff know roughly when you would arrive home every day. This was to ensure the safety of the women and children, so that if they disappeared the staff could alert the police sooner rather than later. Other than that, it was just normal courtesy and respect for others that mattered at the women’s shelter.
