Dark

by Rachel Harley

  ‘I’m Pearl, I’m one of the counsellors here,’ I say quietly. ‘Your name is Sophia?’

  She finally moves, sitting up painfully and swiping at her damp face with the hem of the green gown. She knits her hands and looks at me.

  ‘Yes, Sophia Powell,’ she whispers, her voice dry and thin. She offers nothing else, but she’s holding eye contact with me, so that’s a good sign.

  ‘Sophia, you’re safe here. I promise.’ Her eyes dip and I finally move to take her hand. I’m heartened when she doesn’t pull away, but neither does she return my grip, her hand lying warm and limp in mine. I don’t think she’s convinced and I wonder what the hell she’s involved in? It’s clearly more than a simple domestic violence.

  ‘When you’re a little more recovered, you need to talk to Justin,’ I tell her and her chin trembles. ‘Justin is The Guardian, Sophia – I’m assuming that you knew where it was you were running to yesterday?’

  She nods. ‘Yes. I didn’t know where else to go,’ she murmurs and I’m reminded of my own words to Ellen again. I shuffle a little closer and give her an encouraging smile.

  ‘You did the right thing, and I mean it – you’re safe.’ I eye her carefully. I’m not sure how far to push her. Although she’s lucid and a lot calmer than yesterday, she’s as fragile as spun glass and I need to be cautious. I look over at the cabinet by the bed. There’s a tray of food on it and a cup of coffee, but she hasn’t touched any of it.

  ‘Please try and have something to eat,’ I say. ‘The coffee, if nothing else. Bernie’s worried about your fluid balances.’

  She nods, leaning over and snagging the half cold coffee but she gulps it down. Her hand trembles when she replaces the empty mug on the tray and I see her eye the food, as if considering it. Her stomach is evidently unsettled as she shakes her head slightly and leans back onto the wall now. I turn to face her, letting go of her hand as she pushes them tiredly through her stringy hair.

  ‘Sophia, who was the man you were running from?’ I ask quietly and I can see her chewing the inside of her cheek as she thinks about what to say. She wants to tell me – she’s desperate to, but again, she’s afraid. I give her a nudge. ‘Trust me – he’s not going to get his hands on you again.’ She shoots me a hopeful look. ‘He’d have to go through Justin Walker first,’ I say, cracking a small smile and I’m relieved to see the ghost of a response flit her lips for a second. She swallows hard and turns to me slightly.

  ‘His name is Tony and he’s my husband.’

  I try not to let the shock show on my face. That little runt was her husband? Jesus Christ!

  ‘I’m thirty one,’ she continues quietly. ‘Tony’s the same age. We met in our early twenties, mates of mates, you know…?’ I nod. ‘Anyway, he’s never been God’s gift, but he was a nice guy, made me laugh, seemed to care about me. He looked very different then…’

  She bites her lip, her eyes swirling with memories of the man she married and lost forever.

  ‘We got married after a year and rented a little flat. We were happy.’ Her chin wobbles. ‘We tried to start a family, but it didn’t happen, so after a couple of years, we both went for tests,’ she says. ‘As it turned out, it was Tony with the problem, he had virtually no active sperm and the chances of him getting me pregnant were about a million to one.’

  I say nothing, but I’m absorbed in this poor woman’s story. She wraps the gown around her knees, laying her head back and she closes her eyes for a moment.

  ‘We never had any money, even back then. We were always teetering from one disaster to another. Tony worked at B&Q and I was a checkout assistant at Tesco, but we got by. We never managed to amass any savings though, didn’t have a car or other nice things. Our flat was okay, though, and in a decent area.

  ‘Tony began to change after we got the fertility results. He’d been so excited to become a dad, and when he was robbed of it, his behaviour went downhill. He started going out with a group of men from work every Friday and Saturday night. He never invited me along, not that I would have wanted to have gone, but then it was nights out during the week, too. He’d come home at three in the morning, blind drunk on money that we didn’t have and we started to argue. We fell behind with the rent and I had to get a Payday loan to tide us over. He was still working at his point.’

  Sophia tips her head towards me now and there’s so much pain in her strange coloured eyes I feel a hot twist in my gut. I can imagine them on their wedding day – neither of them having much, but they had each other. Starting their lives together, with everything that entailed, the joy, passion, laughter. I focus when she starts to speak again.

  ‘Things really began to crumble when he started gambling. Fruit machines in the pub, at first, then scratch-cards and online poker. I’ll never forget the humiliation of having my debit card bounced in the supermarket I worked at, because he’d emptied the account on line. He started borrowing money from mates and then not turning up for work. He was pissed nearly all the time, and when the money to buy more eventually ran out, he started to use his fists.’

  Nausea churns and I try to keep my gaze neutral as I look at the sorry human being in front of me. She subconsciously touches her nose, her eyes full of distress.

  ‘One afternoon, he wanted to go to the pub and we had no money. I didn’t even have a pound for a bottle of milk, let alone vodka. He sent me to the pawnbrokers to get cash for my wedding and engagement rings, it was the only thing of value we had left. By the time I’d walked there though – they’d closed and it was Sunday the next day. When I got back to the flat, he went berserk.’ She swallows hard, her body beginning a gentle shake and I rest a comforting hand on her arm. She covers it with her own.

  ‘He dragged me to the floor by my hair and smashed a ceramic mug into my face. I knew immediately he’d broken my nose, but he refused to let me go to Hospital. He stood guard over me for three days, until I got paid at least and there was money in the bank again and by that time, I didn’t go anywhere.’ She shakes her head roughly. ‘I know I should have run, Pearl, should have gone then, before things got so much worse, but I had nowhere to go. We didn’t have many friends and they weren’t in a position to put me up or help me financially, I was stuck there. Tony had alienated them all, anyway – borrowing money that he never paid back.’ A lone tear meanders down her face as he eyes drift for a moment again.

  ‘I still loved him,’ she whispers, ‘at least, I did then, if only a little bit. I knew he was going through a bad time, was struggling to accept that he’d never be a dad and I didn’t want to give up on him. I’d married him, for better for worse – how could I leave? He already had problems.’

  I pang with her selflessness, but this happens in abusive relationships. To anyone who hasn’t been on the receiving end of domestic violence, it’s very easy to scoff and toss your head, tell yourself that there’s no way that you would put up with that shit and you’d be out of there at the first opportunity. In reality, it’s often very different and the women and men who put up with abuse do so for many reasons. Love is one of them. Not wanting to give up on the person you promised to protect and care for forever.

  ‘Tony lost his job a month later,’ she continues quietly. ‘He’d taken so many days off sick, he’d already had a written warning, but when he turned up for work drunk, and fell out of a forklift, he was sacked on the spot. I was still at Tesco’s, but I’d also had a lot of time off myself, due to my broken nose. It took weeks to heal and I’ve still got no sense of smell. That’s probably gone forever.’

  This story is heart-breaking, but I get the impression she’s getting to the crux of it now. She reaches for my hand, as if seeking comfort from me, and her grip is almost painful.

  ‘A few months later, I lost my own job,’ she says sadly. ‘Tesco were making cuts, it was early January and because of the amount of time I’d had off, they let me go.’ She wipes her leaking eyes. ‘After Tony had broken my nose, it was if a switch had been thrown in hi
s head. He’s not a big guy, but when he lost his temper, he was like a Tasmanian Devil, feet and fists flying everywhere. I had a face like a football regularly.’ A harsh laugh. ‘He was always sorry afterwards, at least until the money ran out again.

  ‘When I lost my job, we were in dire straits. I applied for housing benefit, which at least covered the rent, but we were really struggling on Universal Credit. Tony was drinking it all, and we were barely surviving. He came home from the pub one night, pumped out of his mind on coke and told me he’d started selling it. That was when things started to get really bad for me.’

  She sounds like a confused child, as if part of her beaten mind can’t understand how she’s ended up where she is now. Because of the mistake she made, falling in love with a complete and utter waste of space. Her whole life ruined because of one catastrophically bad choice. Jesus Christ.

  I wonder whether she’s had enough for today. She was calm before, but as she’s been talking, I’ve seen the tension start to build in her body and I keep hold of her hand. I’m not going to stop her talking just yet.

  ‘Tony being Tony, well the whole thing was a car crash,’ she mutters. ‘Strutting around, the big hard coke dealer, cocky as fuck, thinking that he was going to be Mr Big with his own crew in twelve months.’ Her eyes harden now. ‘The spineless bastard lasted a week before he couldn’t resist shoving it up his own nose and within a month, he had no drugs and owed over a grand.

  ‘He’d been pleading with me for days, asking me to apply for a credit card, but they wouldn’t have touched me with a barge pole – I’d defaulted on everything. He couldn’t get it into his head that it wasn’t worth me filling in the damned application and he hit me, giving me a black eye and stormed out. I fell asleep on the sofa and in the middle of the night, the front door was kicked off its hinges and there were two enormous blokes in the flat. When I couldn’t tell them where Tony was – I genuinely didn’t know – and I couldn’t give them the coke or any of the money, they… they dragged me off the sofa… and they…’

  Her eyes clench with agony and she actually heaves at the memory, her wildly shaking hand flying to her mouth. I drop her hand and wrap my arms around her, pulling her skinny body into me and I hold her close as she finally starts to sob. Within a moment, she’s wailing and the door cracks open, Bernie’s anxious head peering tentatively around it. When she sees Sophia in my arms, she relaxes, giving me a soft smile and retreats.

  I hold the woman and let her get it out. The sobs are being dragged from her very soul now, by the sounds of them and I clench my own eyes shut at what happened to her that awful night. Whatever it was, she nearly vomited at the memory, so I don’t really need to know the finer points. It’s clearly horrifying and I’m not going to pry it out of her.

  Finally, her sobs begin to die and she pushes herself gently out of my arms. I pluck a handful of tissues from the box on the cabinet by the bed and hand them to her. She grinds them into her red rimmed eyes.

  ‘Sophia, it’s okay,’ I say softly. It’s far from okay, but she’s finally safe here. Whatever horrors this poor creature has had to endure at the hands of men, it’s over now. I need to talk to Justin and she needs some more rest. Talking to me has done nothing to help her recovery, she’s only marginally less agitated than she was yesterday, her fingers picking at the inflamed skin around her bitten nails. Her thin arms are covered in bruises.

  ‘Justin’s going to find somewhere safe for you to go, away from here. Tony will never find you, we have places to keep you safe, staff to stay with you. Just relax.’

  I stroke her hair and as she processes my words, I finally and thankfully see her do just that. She’s not unintelligent, she saw how Justin dealt with her scumbag husband yesterday and the news that she’ll be taken somewhere unknown has calmed her panicked mind. I stand up and she looks up at me gratefully.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ she whispers, giving me a tremulous smile.

  ‘Get some more rest and please, eat something?’ I give her my own smile now and tip my head inquiringly.

  She nods. ‘I will, I promise.’ I move to the door and put my hand on the knob, but her voice stops me. ‘Pearl?’ I turn. ‘Will you come and see me again?’

  Her eyes are pleading and I get the sense that she has more to say. A lot more, but not today, she can’t cope with it and I nod immediately.

  ‘Of course I will. I’ll see you soon.’

  I slip through the door and make my way back to Bernie. I fill her in that Sophia’s swallowed the coffee, and that she’s promised to eat, asking Bernie to let me know if she is and also, what the Doctor says when he comes a bit later on. She nods and thanks me and I hurry out of the infirmary, making my way through the admin office to speak to Justin.

  Diane gives me a shark-like grin as I sweep past her and I poke my tongue out, cracking open Justin’s door and peering around it.

  He’s sitting at his desk, slouched back in his leather chair, his long body curved languorously into it. He swings his eyes away from the screen when he sees me, and I plonk myself in a chair opposite.

  He cocks a brow. ‘Any luck.’

  ‘Some, Jus. He’s her husband, his name’s Tony Powell?’

  ‘What?’ he blurts, his eyes widening. It takes a lot to shock Justin Walker but a man treating the woman that he’d promised to love and protect the way Powell treated Sophia yesterday is boggling his brain.

  I fill him in on the conversation I’ve had this morning, seeing his cerulean eyes freeze with hate as I reach the end of the sorry tale.

  ‘There’s more, Justin – I know there is, but I’d pushed her to her limits today. Whatever those bastards did to her in her own home is bad enough, but I sense there’s worse.’

  There is, I get a lurking sense of unease. Alright, Sophia’s terror of her legal mate could just be because of his flying fists and his bad coke habit, but if I’m honest, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a person as petrified as she was yesterday and she’d had years of the worst the violent little runt had to offer. No. It’s something else.

  Or someone.

  A chill dances down my spine at what else might have happened to the damaged woman in the infirmary.

  ‘Justin, she needs to go to one of the safe houses. Powell knows she’s here. What if he rocks up again when you’re not here, with a load of blokes?’

  Justin picks his phone up, touching it open. ‘I’ve been thinking exactly the same. I’ve upped the security here to one more during the day and two at night, but you’re absolutely right. The sooner we get her out of here, the better.’

  I sit, listening as Justin connects calls – first to Dan and then the security company we use. Sophia will be smuggled out tonight, through the back with a blanket over her head and no-one apart from Dan, Justin and myself will know where she is.

  He grins at me as he finishes the final call and most of the anxiety has disappeared from his lovely eyes. Whilst I don’t have any doubt that Powell is going to return, if Sophia isn’t here, then he has absolutely no chance of getting his grubby hands on her.

  I stand up. ‘I’ll go and see her in a couple more days, Jus – when she’s moved and has had chance to get settled. We could do with a woman there, someone for her to talk to if she wants.’

  Justin nods. ‘I’ll sort it, Dan’s ringing me back in an hour.’ He stretches in his chair, raising his arms high over his head and the action pulls his tight tee-shirt up, giving me a panty twitching glimpse of his sculpted abdomen. It doesn’t seem to affect me as it used to, probably because it hasn’t got a phoenix inked on it.

  As soon as I think of the beautiful tattoo, Carter’s there alongside it and I grin at Justin as I head to the door. I need to text him, see how his day is going. He said that he had meetings this morning, His excuse for a dad is no doubt wheeling him around like exhibit A so he absolve himself from the faux pas that his son’s created. Wily fucker.

  Plopping down onto my chair, I pull my phone from my bag
and wake up my iMac. I see an unread text and I touch the phone open, looking eagerly, but my head shoots up at the most enormous burp from Diane. She throws an empty diet coke can in the bin and grins widely.

  ‘Better out than in!’ she blares and I roll my eyes.

  ‘For you or me?’ I laugh as she answers her ringing landline. Turning my attention back to my phone, delicious feelings roll when I open the message he’s sent to me.

  Jesus, I need to get out of here and back home. I can focus on nothing apart from you and that fucking selfie you sent me last night…

  Ha!

  Thought he might like. I lay back on the bed before going to sleep, his white shirt on, but left unbuttoned, as requested and held the phone high, biting my lip as I took the picture.

  I looked quite sexy, even if I do say so myself and as I think about a suitable reply, I grin at my screen.

  Did you like it?

  He reads the text immediately, which gives makes warmth spread gently through my chest. He sent his message a while ago, but he’s evidently been keeping an eye out for a reply. The welcome bounding dots are there as he responds.

  Like it? Are you fucking serious?

  I love his potty mouth. He’s the epitome of a perfect gentleman in every way, and he only uses profanity around people he knows aren’t offended by it. Me, Rupert, but I haven’t heard him use the word fuck around Jus and Ellen, he doesn’t know them well enough yet. I also love the fact that his swearing goes the roof the more turned on he gets, every other word is fuck when he’s barely hanging onto it. I’m replying as I’m thinking and I hit send.

  Well, yes. I mean I didn’t get a response last night, so I wondered if it maybe wasn’t what you were expecting.