by M J Hardy
Just a split second is all it takes for me to imagine myself in her place. Happy and free without a care in the world. A pretty house and a faithful companion. Surely that’s not much to ask, is it?
The memory will keep me company for the rest of the day. It makes sense of my life and gives me hope of a better future. Sad really, when the only bit of happiness I enjoy is through the eyes of another.
The song finishes and the presenter starts talking about their next guest. I turn the radio off. Now my only companion is the imaginary world I create as I imagine myself walking in the girl on Gander Green lanes shoes. I want to be that woman so badly it hurts. I wonder where it all went so badly wrong.
Just before nine, I reach the office in town where I’ve worked for the past three years. As I join the line of workers pressing through the doors I hear, “Morning, Sarah.”
I say on autopilot. “Hi, Bea, terrible weather out there.”
“Yes, it’s going to last most of the week, unfortunately.”
I smile as I walk past the beaming receptionist.
Faville and Proctor - the Insurance company where I work and the only place I can relax.
Most of the people here dread coming in each day. I don’t.
Most people call in sick as many times as they can get away with. I don’t.
Most people moan about the management and the workload they inflict on us. I don’t.
I would stay here if I could because what waits for me at home is far worse. There I’m on edge and here I can relax knowing that I won’t have to explain myself and deal with the consequences.
As I take up my position at the desk fourth from the door and facing the window, I feel myself sigh with relief as I switch my mind to the day ahead.
5.30 comes all too soon and with a heavy heart, I join my co-workers on the commute home.
I don’t dawdle and chat as many do. Any invitation to the pub after work is politely declined. I smile regretfully and make up some excuse to extricate me from any ‘out of office’ plans. I need to be home by 6.30 and have everything in place because that’s what’s required of me.
The return journey is much the same save for one thing. The girl never appears. She must work or walk her dog another time because as hard as I look, I never see her.
As I pass, I look with interest at the house she lives in. It’s a pretty house with roses trailing over a white painted porch and the garden is worthy of any horticultural accolade. Although welcoming, it’s not pristine. The gate could use a coat of paint and the path is strewn with weeds. However, the plants that grow in the small garden take my breath away.
It looks a happy house where nothing bad ever happens and once again, I wonder about her life. I imagine she has everything she could wish for. A beautiful home and no worries. She is obviously happy; I can tell that by the smile on her face. She has a lightness to her step which shows a confidence that only a happy life can give you.
As usual, I refuse to dwell on my life. I deal with it on a need to basis and the less I think of it the better. As I leave Gander Green lane behind, I leave my heart there to collect the next morning.
When I turn into Richmond Avenue, the houses change and the street widens. The trees stand proudly, guarding the neighbourhood like soldiers. The houses are bigger, better and much more impressive. Behind the shutters are people who live their lives in a very different way. People that appear to have it all worked out and look down on those who don’t. Doctors, lawyers, businessmen and their cosseted families. Nothing bad happens in Richmond Avenue - nothing that is spoken about, anyway.
Sighing, I turn into the drive of number 15 and pull up in my usual parking space. I turn the key in the ignition and hear the birds singing outside.
Then I take a deep breath and head inside the place that has been more like a prison than a home for the last five years because this is where he lives.
Chapter Two
You can do 99 things for someone and all they’ll remember is the one thing you didn’t do. – unknown
I quickly shower and change and set about making supper. As I pull the fresh ingredients from the fridge, I concentrate on the task in hand. Lasagne with a green salad and the usual bottle of wine. I work quickly and methodically making sure nothing is left uncleared or out of place.
I work in silence and channel my energy into making the food because the rest of the evening will be spent living on a knife edge.
I hear the car turn into the driveway and my heart starts racing. The thump of the car door and the sound of footsteps and my nerves jangle. The sound of the key in the lock strikes fear in my heart as I wonder what mood will be coming through it today.
Then I hear those footsteps heading my way and I plaster a smile on my face and say, “How was your day, darling?”
I watch as my husband heads my way and don’t miss the way he takes everything in.
Richard Standon is an impressive-looking man. He is good looking and dresses as if he’s just walked out of a men’s magazine. His hair is dark and cut short and his eyes are the darkest I have ever seen. He keeps himself in shape and we head to the gym most evenings. During the day he works as a solicitor and earns more per hour than I do for the day. Many of the women we associate with want to be in my shoes. He is easily the best looking of the husbands around here and I’m aware of the jealous looks and envious words as they constantly tell me how lucky I am.
He heads towards me and pulls me close, whispering, “I’ve missed you today.”
I answer as he would expect. “Me too.”
Pulling back, he strokes my cheek lightly and says softly, “What do you say we leave the gym tonight for a different type of workout?”
He asks me a question that demands no answer and I smile softly, “I would like that.”
He runs his hands down the front of my dress and says in a voice that gives me chills. “I expect you dressed accordingly at 8 o’clock sharp.”
Nodding, I lower my eyes and he pulls away saying roughly, “What’s for supper?”
My heart flutters as I say shakily, “Lasagne and salad.”
He sighs irritably. “Again?”
I say nothing and he rips his tie off angrily. “For god’s sake, Sarah, what was the point of that course I sent you on if you can’t even rustle up something more interesting than a lasagne. You’re a waste of space, you know that?”
I used to feel upset when he spoke to me like this but I’m so used to it I say nothing and just turn to carry on with my work.
He heads off to change and I close my mind to anything other than getting through the night.
He returns just as I’m dishing up and I pass him a glass of his favourite wine and say dutifully, “How was your day?”
He shrugs. “Same old routine. You know, I was thinking we should take a holiday. Maybe head to the Caribbean to get away from it all. I’ll book it tomorrow.”
I swallow hard and try to look excited. “That would be amazing. Let me know the dates and I’ll book the time off.”
He sighs irritably. “I’ve been thinking about your job. I think it’s time to leave. We need to start thinking about a family now. I’m not having my wife working when she should be concentrating on raising our family.”
I feel light headed as I try the dodge this conversation that is becoming more regular as the weeks go on.
“When were you thinking of going?”
He groans. “It will have to be next month because my workload is too heavy. Leave it with me and I’ll sort it out.”
I try to look excited but my heart is sinking like a lead balloon.
As usual, Richard eats with one eye on the television and I’m grateful for it. At least if he’s concentrating on that I’m off the hook. The thought of going on holiday fills me with dread. Two weeks with him and no escape. Most women would love the chance to escape to a Caribbean island with a man who looks like him. I’m not one of them. They don’t see the man I see behind closed do
ors. The man who wants everything his own way and demands more than a woman should ever have to give. To everyone else, we have a perfect life. I disagree. The woman I want to be lives on Gander Green lane and if I could turn back the clock, I would do everything in my power not to have fallen for the man before me.
After supper, Richard retires to the couch to watch the television, leaving me to clear the dishes and straighten the kitchen.
I make him a coffee and head across the large, open plan room, that you could eat your food off the floor.
As I hand him the mug, he says darkly, “Wait.”
My heart starts thumping as he places the mug on the coffee table and sits back in the chair. He fixes me with a hungry look and says gruffly, “Show me how much you’ve missed me.”
Swallowing hard, my hand moves to the zipper on my dress and as it falls, I stare him in the eye and note the lust enter them. I move forward and straddle him on the couch as he runs his hands all over my body making me shiver inside. Lowering my lips to his, he kisses me in a hard-demanding way before saying roughly, “Go and wait for me.”
I offer him a long, lingering, kiss and sway sexily from the room. My heart beats so fast I can only pray it gives out on me because sex with Richard is not straightforward. He has particular tastes that don’t sit well with me and yet many other women would consider me lucky.
As I lie on the bed and wait, I try to focus my mind on anything other than what’s happening.
He makes me wait for one hour.
I hear the television playing loudly in the room downstairs. The telephone rings and I hear him laugh at something in the conversation. I feel cold but dare not climb under the covers just in case. The air conditioning blasts its cool air on my nearly naked body and numbs me to what I’m about to receive.
My teeth are chattering when he finally enters the room. Fully dressed with intent in his eyes. I watch as he removes the belt from his jeans and his eyes flash.
“You’ve been a naughty girl, Sarah.”
My heart starts racing and my voice trembles as I say fearfully, “I’m not sure what you mean.”
His voice is ominous, and he says darkly, “I found this down the side of the couch.”
He produces a letter and I start to shake. My mouth is dry and I say in a whisper, “I’m sorry.”
There’s no point in denying it, it would only make matters worse. The letter I hid was one from my old school. It’s a reunion that’s been arranged for one month from today. Richard’s key was in the lock before I could hide it. It arrived two days ago, and I forgot about it completely.
He pulls the letter from the envelope and reads it out in a dull voice.
Then he crumples it into a ball and advances towards me slowly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to meet up with your past?”
I say softly, “I wasn’t going to go. I wanted to throw it in the trash before you got home.”
His eyes flash. “Are you sure about that, Sarah, you see I don’t believe you. I think you were going to go without me and that makes me angry.”
I start to shake as he winds the belt around his fist and says angrily, “Why would you hide something like that unless you were planning something? You know I don’t like secrets and it makes me mad. I’m thinking the worst now, Sarah because maybe there’s a secret you don’t want me finding out. Is that the case because if you’re hiding something from me, I won’t be happy?”
He reaches the bed and stares down at me and I shake my head. “I’m sorry, Richard. I never mentioned it because I didn’t want to go. I thought you may make me and they are the last people I ever want to see again.”
He removes his shirt and I see the lust shining in his eyes. “You know I believe you, don’t you baby? You know I trust you, don’t you?”
I swallow hard and say weakly, “Yes.”
Shaking his head, he sits astride me and says softly, “You know this will hurt me more than you, my darling.”
The tears fall from the corners of my eyes as I nod and say in a whisper, “Yes.”
His breathing becomes more ragged and I steel myself for his punishment.
Flipping me over, he reaches across and tethers my hands to the metal bed frame with his belt. I feel the bite of the leather as it tears at my skin as he kicks my legs apart. Running his hand down my back, he says in a sinister voice. “You only have yourself to blame for this. You know I love you, don’t you?”
I say in a whisper, “Yes.”
His hand runs over my ass and pinches it hard. Then he says roughly, “Do you have anything to say?”
My voice sounds far away as I say shakily, “I’m sorry, Richard, please forgive me.”
He hisses, “For what?”
“For keeping something from you and hiding the evidence.”
As soon as the last word leaves my lips, his hand connects with my ass. The pain shoots through me and I bite my lip. I feel the sting as he says, “Tell me you love me.”
Squeezing my eyes tightly shut, I say, “I love you, Richard.”
Slap.
Another stinging blow makes me cry out, and he says angrily, “Did you just make a sound?”
Slap.
Another stinging blow as I shake my head and then he says darkly, “You know I have to punish you, don’t you, Sarah?”
I choke out, “Yes.”
Slap.
This time the blow is even harder and catches me on the part that still smarts from the previous one. I bite my lip as he says, “I don’t think you’re sorry enough.”
I start to plead. “Please Richard. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”
Slap.
The tears fall and it feels as if I’m fire. Then I hear the sound of his zipper and feel him enter me roughly, cruelly and without care. He starts to pound into me from behind as the pain fills my mind. His grunts are the only sounds in the room along with the bang of the metal headboard against the wall as he punishes me. He is relentless until he satisfies himself before pulling out.
The cool air on my abused ass soothes the pain as I hear him move to the bathroom. I lie still and make no sound as he cleans himself up before returning what is probably 15 minutes later. His voice is laced with derision as he says slowly, “What do you say, Sarah?”
I whisper, “Thank you, Richard.”
He reaches for the belt and unties my hands. Then he pulls me to face him and wipes the tears from my eyes with his fingers.
“Why do you push me, baby? You know what it does to me.”
He pulls me towards him and holds me in his arms rocking me like a baby.
“There, there, it’s over now, all is forgiven.”
He pulls me against him and we lie in the darkened room until sleep erases the horror of my reality. Sleep is the only escape from this living hell and I’m not sure how much longer I can go on.
Chapter Three
We could never learn to be brave and patient, if there were only joy in the world. Helen Keller
Life carries on as normal the next day and I’m just grateful for the chance to see the girl I want to be having a happy life. As I drive to work, I imagine myself in her shoes. How lucky she is to wake up every day with no fear. I expect she has many friends and a loving family. She probably enjoys a loving relationship without fear and looks forward to going home every night.
I’m not sure how my life ended up this way. When I first met Richard, he was everything I hoped for and more. I used to feel so incredibly lucky that he chose me and I suppose it’s that part of me that didn’t stand up for myself when it started. I should have seen the warning signs. I should have known, but I was always so afraid he would leave me. Now I want that more than anything. Ironic really.
The weekend comes and signifies an end to any freedom I enjoy. We wake at 7 am on Saturday morning and the first item on the agenda is our usual jog around the neighbourhood. I make sure to follow Richard a few steps behind so he can set the pace. Despite everything, I lov
e this morning jog. It means I can grab some alone time without the need for conversation.
Richard listens to his music and sets off at quite a pace. I am not allowed that luxury because my job is to act as his eyes and ears for approaching cars. As we turn the corner, I see Sally Benson heading towards her car. She is dressed for her usual Pilates class and she raises a hand to wave and I see Richard acknowledge her. I do the same and she calls out, “See you later guys.”
Nodding, I leave her behind and think about the evening ahead. It’s the usual monthly get together with the neighbours. Tonight, it’s at Sally and Crispin’s home and promises to be the usual assault course as I attempt to navigate through an evening where I pretend we are a normal and happy couple.
I see James Clyde washing his car and Richard raises his hand and waves. I just smile across the street and see him grin and shake his head as he carries on with his task.
Mrs Barlow’s dog barks as we pass her front lawn and the paperboy ahead crawls along the kerb, throwing the papers on the driveways as we pass.
As days go, it’s going to be a good one. Weather-wise that is. The sun is already promising a glorious summer’s day and the sweet birdsong should fill me with happiness. The trouble is, nothing does anymore.
I’m not sure when I stopped loving Richard. It was so gradual it shocked me when the realisation hit. I think back over the last few years and feel so incredibly sad. I was so happy when Richard started paying me attention. We met through friends and I remember wondering how on earth such a man was still single? He was attentive, funny and kind and I fell in love with him almost immediately.
I suppose we had what’s called a whirlwind romance and within six months we were engaged and planning our wedding. We married on a beach in Antigua and the fairy tale was all set for a happy ever after.
Maybe it’s because I have such low self-esteem, I placed him high above me on a pedestal. He could do no wrong and I had to up my game if I stood any chance of holding onto him.
