I stood as the sweaty players left the court. I had no excuse but to try and find you; assuming you were still prowling the marquee. I fought my way through the inter-court passage, wondering why I always seemed to be travelling in the wrong direction, pushing against the swarms. I pressed on through until someone stopped abruptly in front of me, blocking my way. His entire face smiled softly, an ordinary male with benevolent eyes. I couldn’t help but return his smile. An amiable voice asked me for the time; I glanced at my Rolex, a gift from you on our wedding day. My pulse upped a pace – God, I’d been missing in action for ages. Too long, you’d be furious again. Hopefully you were too blotto to realise. I shared the time with the stranger, he thanked me, smiled then sauntered away. I rotated to allow my eyes to follow him, touched by his apparent gentleness.
Stupid. I hadn’t realised I was being surveyed. Was I set up? I now wonder.
Once, I’d never have believed such an innocent interchange could have consequences, would require me to be taught a lesson. The flame to ignite the noted list for all my other evident indiscretions during the day. I continued along the passage, oblivious. Moments later I was jolted back in my tracks; a sharp pain in my small wrist, squeezed tightly as if to crush my delicate bones, my arm yanked at the socket. I spun around in a flash, twisting my ankle over my heels, creating a burning-hot sting. I didn’t need to ask; I didn’t need to face you or look into your eyes, I already knew. I knew what I’d done wrong, in your sick eyes. I understood, tomorrow I would ache with the marks of tonight. Something told me the wounds would no longer be superficial. Something in your eyes had changed.
Why did I have to wear my watch? But then I was unaware I was being stalked.
Why did I need to smile at the man? He only needed the time.
It was a quiet journey home from Wimbledon, despite the full car; a little civil conversation but you struggled to hide your icy intentions towards me. Your dark eyes attempted to catch mine from time to time. I deliberately avoided them, choosing to natter quietly to Sue instead. All the time the knotting in my stomach squeezed further, a slight shaky feeling seeping through my limbs. The two-hour journey flew by. Before I knew it, we were back at our gates, then imparting goodbyes to our babysitter. I was informed Jack was fast asleep, but as I trod my way up the stairs to check in on him you summoned me to the study.
You lingered at the foot of the stairs. ‘Before you go upstairs, Eve…’ You nodded towards the study and made your way there. Why did I follow? Because it had to happen, one way or another; I would rather have it over and done with. It was dark outside; only the hall light illuminated the room, the air we shared thick with trepidation. Daggered shadows scattered the floor as I stood on unsteady legs, facing your back. Waiting for you to turn. Your dark frame, deliberately facing out of the window. Casual, hands in pockets. Black was all you could see. The whiff of alcoholic fumes burdening the attitude.
Silence deafened the tone as the clock ticked intrusively, fixed to the wall. I observed the second-hand circle, until I could no longer cope with the slow torture.
‘Gregg?’ I appealed.
‘Shush.’ You stamped your foot.
I understood; I must await my fate.
Were you smiling to the outside world? Waiting for the perfect moment? Not wanting to begin, for fear it would be over too soon? Pure excitement pouring through your blood. Your moment to be in control. Finally, you slowly revolved. Deliberately. Calculated. Ominous opaque eyes sought mine. You had decided on my next lesson. My punishment. Just a few premeditated steps forward, you stood in front of me, not uttering a word. There was no point in my running. Where would I go? Jack was asleep upstairs. It was too late. Your hands reached out in slow motion. I was frozen to the spot. I did not protest; I had already shut down. Aware of being walked backwards.
My head whacked hard against the intolerant wall, as I magically slid up it, defying gravity. Defying my self-worth.
Your masculine hands at my throat. My feet floating.
I still did not speak. I couldn’t.
I gasped; fighting for air.
You smiled, then dropped me. I fell to my knees.
Not long now.
A crushing pain gored my ribs, your shoes making the strikes all the harsher.
I dropped flat, then curled up like a fallen leaf, so as to protect my head with my arms.
Blow after blow. Thinking only of Jack and our new life to come.
Then hush, as you inspected your work, looking down on me. You crouched down, to whisper to the child you reluctantly disciplined. ‘When will you learn, Eve? Why do you insist on doing this to us? Take some time, think long and hard. Consider your behaviour. I should not have to do this, but you leave me no choice. You are sick. You do realise this, don’t you? Sick, Eve.’
Hard-done-to footsteps departed the room, the door steadily closing behind them. Darkness but for the moon watching over; I was alone.
My heart banging on the floor, I urged it to keep quiet; it was not the time. I lay listening as the clock ticked on. Then the footsteps trod down the stairs. I hadn’t heard them go up, I’d thought you were still lurking in the hall, listening for my next move. The front door slammed, vibrating shock waves through the floor as the realisation dawned: had you taken Jack? I lay immobile, curling into the shape of a kidney bean to let the blackness take me.
I wondered, did that man understand how much his request would cost me? Did he know his smile would punish me? Why did people have to be nice? Why couldn’t they leave me alone? Through the silent tears I could see the remains of time, my watch; silver crushed to hundreds of tiny pieces. Elements sparkling in the moonlight on the floor next to me.
The gift of our marriage smashed forever.
Time was a great healer, they said.
But time was a parasite of my sanity.
Chapter Twenty
Cornwall 2016
The adrenaline pumps subaquatic sounds through my ears. I’m conscious of heat illuminating my cheeks and aware of Ruan’s eyes spearing my back. But time seems to stop, for a moment, as we all remain immobile without words. Frozen in time. Eventually, he returns my forged smile. I’m unsure if his is a genuine one. My ability to read people’s intentions momentarily deactivates. I watch as his eyes search my face. Deliberately checking off my features as if from a list. A mental detailed list he prepared earlier. It’s a while before he opens his mouth to answer me, closing it again. Instead, he holds out his tanned hand to greet mine, looking so small in comparison.
I do not know this man; but I suspect he knows me. A disconcerting awareness shrouds me as I wrack my mind. Who are you? A strange unidentified atmosphere fills the room. Then a cough from behind breaks through as I feel the eyes of Ruan moving between us.
‘William?’ I tender again, shifting my feet to steady myself.
He shakes his head as if waking himself from a trance. ‘Yes. Hi, sorry. I was miles away.’ He steps closer to me as my feet automatically step back one. He still has hold of my hand; he’s also invading my personal space.
My heart is still pumping wildly; I was sure this was you. From behind the resemblance is uncanny. ‘Not to worry.’ I step forward again. I’m hardly behaving in a welcoming manner. ‘I’m Eve, by the way.’ I pause for a moment, waiting for him to say, I know, but he doesn’t. I am as certain as I can be he’s thinking it. Am I just being paranoid again? This could be a genuine case and my distrust is stripping me of any composure or practised etiquette. He smiles at me knowingly; he is self-confident yet there is something so unsettled about him. So many unsaid words sitting on his shoulders. But not in the usual fidgety, anxious manner I’ve become so accustomed to.
‘Please, come on through, William. It’s lovely to meet you,’ I lie, wishing I’d refused to take the referral whilst I still had the chance. I’m also aware as I say this, he hasn’t yet released his grip of my hand. His clasp is firm, touching my skin, almost trying to communicate something. I cannot shake off the uneasy feeling, but then, given the recent rush of stress hormones, it’s to be expected. Perhaps it has nothing to do with this William, and I’m simply filtering down again from the battered boxes.