She’d wrapped her hands around mine and looked at me, her eyes a swirling pool of unconditional love.
“If you want them, you can have them,” she’d said.
“Really?” I’d squealed.
“Really,” she’d said, smiling.
I’d rolled into her, breathing in her unique scent of cucumber melon, warm dough and clean linen. The essence that always made me feel safe.
“Thank you,” I’d breathed excitedly into her ear.
“You can have anything you want, Naomi. Wherever you find yourself in life, whatever you want to do, if you put the work in, you can have whatever you want.”
I’d nodded into her chest.
“I mean it,” she’d said, holding me away to make sure I was listening. “Don’t end up like me.”
I didn’t know whether she meant as a stay-at-home mom or a battered wife. “I wish I’d listened to my parents,” she’d said. “They did everything in their power to keep me in med school, knowing deep down that’s what I wanted to do. But your dad came along in the first year and it was game over.”
I looked up at her. “Did he tell you that you couldn’t carry on?” I’d asked incredulously.
Her eyes shimmered with tears and melancholy. “Not in so many words, but he was only visiting Virginia for a few months and I couldn’t possibly imagine life without him.”
“So you moved to New York to be with him?”
She’d nodded. “He promised that once we were settled, I could restart my training here.” A tear fell from the corner of her eye, instantly blotting the pillow. “But that never happened.”
“Don’t be sad, Mom,” I’d said, stroking her cheek.
“I’m fine, darling,” she sniffed. “But I don’t want you to be like me. I want you to be the person I never got to be. I want you to live with abandon: travel, love, dance, eat good food…”
The front door had slammed shut and her eyes widened with fear.
“Close your eyes and pretend you’re asleep,” she’d whispered.
I’d swallowed hard, my heart beating fast at the thought of what was to come.
“Don’t ever let anyone tell you you can’t do any of those things,” she’d said under her breath.
I’d blinked through my own tears and given a half-nod.
“Promise me.”
I’d nodded again, with vigor.
Her eyelids fluttered shut just before mine did, but I could already feel my father’s presence in the room, like a whirring tornado about to strike.
She made the tiniest of whimpers as he lifted her off the bed by her hair, her eyes willing the cracks in mine to stay closed.
“You haven’t got time to lie down,” he’d roared, dragging her toward the door. “I haven’t had my dinner yet.”
I’d wanted more than anything for her to fight back, to show him that he couldn’t keep treating her that way, but there wasn’t an ounce of resistance left in her. She gave in to him and let her body go limp as her shoulder hit the doorframe.
I’ve since heard from clients that it doesn’t seem to hurt as much once you resign yourself to it. But I don’t ever want anyone to feel that they have to accept abuse.
“It was just a push,” says Anna, bringing me back. “Maybe I’m making more out of it than I need to.”
I lean into the table. “Just a push is more than enough,” I say. “And next time, just a push turns into just a slap, and the time after that it’s just a punch.”
She blows her nose into a tissue. “The look in his eyes,” she says. “I thought he was going to kill me.”
“So what do you want to do?” I ask.
“I’ve got a little bit of money put by,” she says. “I’ve been saving some of the housekeeping money that Nick gives me. It’s not much, but it pays for you, and there’s now enough for a security deposit and a month’s rent. I can get a job as soon as I’m there.”
I recoil at the thought that the money she’s saving to safeguard her future is being spent on me.
“OK,” I say, knowing that I won’t ever charge her for my time again. “So do you want me to try and find you somewhere?”
She nods. “Could you? I mean, I don’t know how to do anything like that because Nick’s always been in charge. I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“I can help you,” I say.
“But I don’t want to put you in a position where you feel as if you don’t have a choice. This is hardly within your remit, but I really don’t know who else to ask. You’re the only person I trust.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “I will always help my clients in whatever way I can.”
Her shoulders fall as she breathes out. “So I’m not the first?” she asks.
I smile. “And you won’t be the last.”
“You’ve helped other clients find somewhere to live?”
I think of Jacob and immediately feel a tightening in my chest.
“One or two,” I say, brushing off my unease, knowing that it’s obviously different with Anna.
“How much would I need for a couple of months’ rent?” she asks.
“Well, it all depends on where you go,” I say. “Anywhere around here is going to set you back at least fifteen hundred a month for something big enough for you and the children.”
She looks at me wide-eyed. “I-I had no idea. I can’t possibly afford that.”
“What about going into Canterbury? You’ll be able to get more for your money there.”
“Maybe,” she says. “But the children are so used to being close to the beach and I have to say that I feel a real affinity to the sea too.” She looks at me. “I guess that comes with being a New Yorker. You never want to be too far away from the water.”
I smile. I hadn’t ever thought of it like that before, but she may have a point, as I’ve never lived more than a mile or two from the shoreline. And there’s no doubt that, for one reason or another, Leon and I were inextricably drawn here.
He was adamant he didn’t want to return to his hometown of Manchester, so it was a case of closing our eyes and pointing to somewhere on the map; a bit like pinning the tail on the donkey, and Whitstable, luckily for us, was the donkey’s ass.
“Although you were nearer than me back then,” Anna goes on. “You must have been on the beach all the time, living on Long Island?”
“We used to go to Jones Beach,” I say.
“With your family?” asks Anna.
I nod, as I remember Dad burying Jennifer and me up to our necks in the sand, and Mom laughing as we thrashed our way out and ran down the beach after him.
“That must have left you with such special memories,” she says.
“It was the only time my sister and I were allowed a Slush Puppie,” I say, smiling. “Mum would beckon to us in the ocean and we’d race each other out of the water to the kiosk to see who could get the bluest tongue.”
Anna laughs. “I remember them, weren’t they called Blue Raspberry or something? Like, when have you ever seen a blue raspberry?”
“Exactly.”
“What did your family think of you coming over here?” she asks.
An involuntary tic pulsates in my jawline, giving away more than I want. “Oh, you know what families are like,” I say nonchalantly. “They don’t want you to go, then forget about you as soon as you’ve left.” I force a laugh because I have no idea what my family think of me emigrating to another country. Because I no longer have a family. At least I didn’t until yesterday.
9
There’s a feeling of trepidation swirling around my stomach this morning, mimicked by the draining bath water as I pull the plug out. I watch transfixed as the undercurrent drags the soap suds down into a spinning whirlpool and imagine my insides snaking in the same way.
As soon as I get those first uncomfortable few minutes with Jacob under my belt, I know I’ll be fine. But not knowing how he’s going to play it has kept me up most of the night.