Between You and Me (24 page)

‘Hello?’ I can hear the note of panic in Sal’s voice upon answering the phone.

‘So you’re home, then?’ I can’t help myself; the anger that has been simmering all day threatens to erupt again, just the sound of Sal’s voice pushing me right to the edge. I tell Sal we are not on our way home, as expected, and wait to hear the panic rise up again. A tiny bubble of satisfaction bursts deep inside me as, sure enough, it does, and Sal starts babbling on about being worried.

I make my voice flat and completely devoid of emotion as Sal starts talking about how lessons have been learnt, blah, blah; the same old stuff that Sal comes out with every time I have to reinforce my rules, every time I have to remind Sal of who is the boss. Sal knows, and I know, that nothing will ever change. We go through the same old thing over and over again because Sal just doesn’t remember the rules – rules I don’t think are that difficult. It seems to me that Sal does things deliberately to break them, just in order to upset me. I tell Sal we may or may not be back tomorrow – the quiver of uncertainty in Sal’s voice that follows is a balm to my ears – and once I am satisfied that Sal has been put back in place and is suitably cowed, I hang up the phone. I sleep like a baby.

Maggie is tired and crabby the next day, so instead of stringing out Sal’s punishment for a little bit longer as I intended, I decide to just head for home. While I love spending time with Maggie, I am not good at dealing with her when she is in a tired, fractious mood, so it is easier all round if we just head back and then I can enjoy my Sunday while Sal takes over the childcare. We arrive home just before lunch and Maggie runs straight inside, shouting for Sal. I follow behind, carrying the holdall and the bags of Lego that Maggie has brought home. Sal sits at the kitchen table, and Maggie launches herself across the room into Sal’s lap. I ignore Sal while Maggie sits and chatters about yesterday and
all the fun things
at Legoland until, finally, she runs out of steam and goes into the living room to watch Cartoon Network.

‘You came back then.’ Sal’s voice is tired and listless; worry lines and dark circles surrounding dark, chocolate eyes. It seems pretty obvious that Sal didn’t get much sleep last night.

‘Maggie wanted to. Otherwise we would have stayed longer.’ I look into Sal’s eyes, waiting for the apology that I believe is owed me.

‘OK. I’d better get those clothes in the washing machine.’ Sal stands and gestures towards the holdall at my feet. I don’t move, staring at Sal until the penny drops that I am waiting for an apology. Sal reaches for the bag, not acknowledging me in any other way at all.

‘Come on, then, pass me the bag. These things will need washing, especially if it’s warm again tomorrow. I’ll want Maggie’s swimming costume so I can take her to the paddling pool at the park.’

I pass the holdall, feeling a little off-balance. Usually after a row like this, Sal is falling all over me to apologise.

‘Aren’t you going to apologise to me? For causing all this upset?’ Sal looks at me, blinking, as if the thought hadn’t even occurred.

‘Oh, of course. Sorry, Charlie, for causing all this upset.’ Emotionless, Sal picks up the bag and walks away towards the utility room, evidently to put on this oh-so-urgent washing. I follow Sal through into the utility room.

‘Is that all you have to say?’ I go to grab Sal’s shoulder, just as Sal spins away towards the cupboard where the washing powder is kept.

‘I’m sorry, Charlie. I’m sorry you thought it was OK to take my daughter overnight and not tell me until the last minute. I’m sorry you thought it was OK to make me go out of my mind with worry. I’m sorry you thought I shouldn’t go and see my critically ill nephew in hospital, despite there being a high chance he might not make it. And I’m sorry you thought it was OK to speak to me the way you did. What else did you want me to say?’

Sal’s voice is still curiously devoid of emotion, not full of begging and pleading, as it would normally be. Something has changed between us, and although I’m not too sure what that is yet, I don’t like it. Sal never reacts this way and hasn’t talked back to me for a long time, not since Egypt and definitely not since Maggie was born. I don’t know how to respond to this new Sal, shock making me flounder a little as I try and think of a response.

‘I want a proper apology, and reassurance that you have learnt your lesson. I told you I could take her, Sal, and I did. Next time I will take her for good, and it doesn’t matter who you call, you’ll never find us. I’ll tell the police you hit her and I took her for her own safety.’ Finally, something that hits Sal right where it hurts. Looking up at me, dark eyes tired and sad, Sal’s face creases with worry and I feel a spark of triumph. New Sal won’t be sticking around for long, I’m sure.

‘There’s no need for that, Charlie. I’ve learnt my lesson. You don’t need to teach me anything else. I understand completely.’ Sal turns to the washing machine and starts stuffing clothes into it.

‘Good. As long as we have an understanding. Make sure you don’t forget it.’ A wave of tiredness pours over me; looking after a child for twenty-four hours is far more taxing than I realised.

‘I’m exhausted from yesterday. I’m going for a nap.’ I march out of the utility room, not noticing Sal’s clenched fists or the spark that lights in Sal’s eyes as I leave the room.

Chapter Thirty-Three

SAL

I have to bite my tongue hard when you return on Sunday morning, a tired Maggie in tow. You are cold and emotionless, and when you have the audacity to demand an apology from me, anger flames in my chest. I turn away from you and pick up the holdall of clothes you have brought back with you, under the pretence of washing them, so I can get five minutes away from you to try and douse my fury, but even that doesn’t work when you follow me into the utility room. I apologise and tell you I’ve learnt my lesson – anything to make you leave me alone, to give me a few minutes to calm myself. I don’t mean it. Not any more. I’ll apologise to you to keep the peace for now, but I am most definitely not sorry.

Having the whole night alone last night to think things over, I have made my mind up. I am no longer prepared to put up with the abuse I have suffered at your hands for so long. I spent the night thinking about all the ways you have hurt me, physically and emotionally, and I have finally accepted that the problem isn’t me – it’s you. You have broken my fingers, burnt me and bruised my kidneys with the force of your kicks. You have perforated my eardrum. You have humiliated me countless times in front of other people, always telling them how I’m stupid, have terrible dress sense, am clumsy, always in such a way that you make it seem like a joke. You portray a façade of caring partner and parent to the outside world – how many times have I heard, ‘Oh, you’re married to
Charlie
. Well, you lucky thing, Charlie is just
lovely/so clever/fantastic
.’ People looking from the outside in would probably say we have the perfect life – nice house, beautiful daughter, wonderful relationship. If only they knew what went on behind closed doors. No one knows that the moments when we are the perfect family, when we are both happy and content, are few and far between – that now, the bad times outweigh the good and I can’t honestly believe things will ever get any better. I don’t think anyone would ever guess I am often frightened that one day you might actually kill me.

I am relieved when you say you are going upstairs to take a nap. It means I don’t have to bite my tongue any longer and I can spend a bit of time with Maggie without feeling I have to watch what I say to her, as no doubt if I ask her in front of you if she enjoyed herself, you will take it as some sort of slight against you. You disappear upstairs and I wander into the living room to find Maggie. I missed her yesterday, and it seems she missed me, as she is reluctant to leave my side. We make squidgy, near-unrecognisable dinosaurs from play-dough, colour in some complicated swirly patterns in her colouring book and are just settling down to watch
Monsters Inc.
when you reappear. You squeeze onto the couch, next to Maggie, and with me sitting on her other side the illusion of a perfect family unit is complete again.

It’s Monday morning, and to my relief you once again head off to the office early. I have managed to act as normally as possible for the rest of the weekend, as though nothing occurred on Saturday, but now I have made my decision, I am keen to start planning. It’s almost as though, if I don’t plan and keep up the momentum, I will stall and never be brave enough to go through with it. I still feel terrified – at the thought of leaving, and at the thought of what you might do when I tell you I’m going, but I decide to confide in Laura. I’m going to need some help, and if Laura knows about it I won’t be able to chicken out. Calling Maggie, I unlock the front door and we walk over to Laura’s.

Maggie scoots up to Lucy’s bedroom to play dolls as soon as we arrive, which I’m glad of, as I couldn’t have the conversation I am about to have with Laura in front of her. Laura boils the kettle and looks at me expectantly, not appearing to notice my shaking hands.

‘Well?’ she demands. ‘What’s going on, Sal? It’s not even eight-thirty and you’re here already. Something must have happened.’ I look down at the old kitchen table, pockmarked with the digs and scrapes of years and years of family use. Laura’s kitchen smells like fresh, drying laundry, coffee and toast. It smells homely.

‘I’ve made a decision, Laura, but I’m going to need your help. It’s a big one, but it’s been a long time coming and I’m ready.’ Swallowing hard, I meet her eyes and see a frown flit across her brow. I feel slightly sick, nerves making my belly churn.

‘Tell me more,’ she says. ‘Is it what I think you’re going to say?’ She reaches out, places her warm, milky-white hand on top of mine. Squeezing it hard I give a slow nod.

‘I’m leaving, Laura. I can’t put up with it any more; everything that you thought about Charlie is wrong.’ Laura gives a little huff of a laugh.

‘Oh, I don’t think what I think about Charlie is so wrong, Sal. I think I’ve been incredibly polite in all the years I’ve lived next door to you, all the years I’ve been your friend. If you truly want to know, I think Charlie is a bully; one who does whatever it takes to get their own way. I’ve heard the things Charlie says to you, how Charlie puts you down. And I saw,
with my own eyes
, what Charlie did to you that day with the boiling water.’ Her eyes flick to the bandage that still remains on my arm – the burn is healing, but slowly, and I am desperately worried it will get infected and I’ll have to see a doctor. ‘You say it was an accident, Sal, but I’m not stupid. I know it wasn’t.’

Hot tears well in my eyes, and the relief that Laura believes me, no question, is indescribable.

‘Oh, God, you have no idea how much that means. I didn’t think anyone would believe me; no one did the last time I tried to talk about it. I mean, it’s just not how things are done, is it? This isn’t how normal people conduct a relationship. I’ve finally realised that it’s not me, it’s not my fault and I need to get away, but I need help. I can’t do it on my own. I don’t think I’m strong enough – will you help me?’ As I look up at Laura, I see tears running down her cheeks, and realise that I am also crying.

‘Sal,
anything
. I will do
anything
to help you. No one should have to put up with the stuff you have to deal with and I have been waiting for so long for you to realise that you’re worth more than this. I never told you before, but I can hear Charlie shouting at you, most nights. And after you had water poured over you, well … I got some stuff together for you, for when you were ready. You’re stronger than you think, you know – and no one is going to judge you for leaving.’ Laura turns to the kitchen drawers behind her and pulls out a sheaf of pamphlets and leaflets, all relating to domestic violence and organisations that can help.

‘What if they don’t believe me, Laur? I don’t reckon it’s as common as you think, you know. And what do I do if Charlie calls the police?’ I swallow nervously. Now I’ve actually told Laura, I feel even sicker with nerves at the thought of going through with it.

‘You’d be surprised, Sal, honestly. There are so many other people out there in your position and these guys have seen it all.’ She waves the pamphlets at me. ‘They are there to help you, to give you advice. Why would Charlie call the police, anyway?’

I explain that that is your reasoning now, the threat you hang over me every time I do something you don’t approve of – you will call the police and tell them I hit Maggie, and then you will take her away from me for good.

‘Bullshit,’ Laura erupts, pacing around the kitchen. ‘I’ll back you up one hundred per cent, Sal, always. I’ve seen you with her; I know you would never hurt her.’ Laura sits and grasps my hands again. ‘We will not let Charlie win, Sal. We will get you out of this situation, you and Maggie, OK?’ I nod and Laura shoves the pile of leaflets into my hands.

‘Call one of them now, see what they say. Use my phone.’ Laura hands me her phone and with trembling fingers I dial the first number. Beads of sweat pop up along my hairline, and as stupid as it may sound I feel as though I am somehow betraying you even after everything that’s happened. But I have to think of Maggie. Every time I waver I will just remember how you took her and threatened not to bring her back. I’ll remember the fear I felt at not seeing her again, and that will strengthen my resolve.

An hour later, I am emotionally drained but clear-headed. The people at the refuge charity were amazing – they believed me, first off, and then gave me the advice that would take me on the first steps to getting free.

‘What did they say?’ Laura is hovering anxiously, waiting to hear what, if any, advice was given.

‘They told me to keep a diary of stuff that happens, as proof, you know? And to take pictures of any injuries. To go to my GP or the police, so there is a log. I can’t do that, Laur; Charlie would kill me if I went to the police. I just don’t think I can do it.’ Exhaustion washes over me as I heave a huge sigh, feeling overwhelmed with it all. There’s no way I’m going to be able to go through with it; you will find out and kill me before I can get somewhere safe. It hits me just what a huge step I am about to take.