Читать книгу The Woman at 72 Derry Lane: A gripping, emotional page turner that will make you laugh and cry - Carmel Harrington - Страница 11

Derry Lane, Dublin, 2014

‘Here you go.’ Matt placed a tray on the bedside table. Stella glanced at its contents: a pot of filter coffee, her favourite mug, and toast, buttered liberally with a small pot of orange marmalade beside it. Guilt food.

Her abdomen ached as she tried to ease herself up to a sitting position.

‘Are you in pain, my darling?’ he asked, reaching out to caress her cheek.

She pulled away, his touch added insult to her injuries.

‘Don’t be like that,’ he pouted, pouring coffee for her. His defiant stare challenged her, but she remained silent.

Matt forced a smile, ‘I’ve told you I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to fall.’

Fall? He shoved her so hard her body actually lifted into the air, falling hard against the living-room cream-leather sofa.

‘You pushed me.’

He looked at her, shocked by her tone. ‘Now now, don’t be a drama queen. It doesn’t suit you, Stella. It was an accident.’ His eyes dared her to go along with the lie. The pain in her side, his favourite place to kick, her weak spot, protested loud. Liar, liar, you cruel, nasty liar.

He tried to pull her into his arms, as if his embrace could shush the accusations. She grimaced in pain.

‘If I could take your pain away and carry it myself, I would.’ His face twisted in false concern.

Liar!

‘Here, have some toast before it gets cold. A special treat for my darling.’

His darling.

When she was six years old, her mam read Lady and the Tramp to her. Elizabeth Darling, the mother of the story, was beautiful and loving and Stella had been charmed by her name.

‘I wish I was called darling,’ she’d said.

Her mam took her hands between her own and replied, ‘Oh but you are already! The first moment you were born and I held you, I called you my darling and that’s what you will always be.’

My darling.

The first time Matt called her that, she felt her heart and head swell in love for him. A sign that he was the one. A sign that she could allow herself to fall in love. A sign that she could trust and hope for a future with a new family.

She couldn’t have been more wrong.

‘I’ll get some pain-killers for you.’ He walked out of their bedroom, stopping at the door to look at her, frowning, his face a picture of contrition. ‘I really am sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. It’s just, well, you have no idea of the pressure I’m under at work.’

‘I’m not sure you are sorry,’ Stella said impulsively. Months of trying to placate him, change him, counsel him, all flashed by. ‘We’ve been on this merry-go-round dozens of times. You have regret, that I well believe.’ She started to feel braver now as she continued, on a roll. ‘Regret that the Gardaí were called. Regret that a neighbour or passerby heard your abuse and knows a little of the truth of you. But sorry? No. You’re not sorry. It won’t happen again? Let’s not pretend that to be true.’

He walked back into the room, looking at her with an eyebrow raised. He stared at her, puzzled at her audacity to question him. She was puzzled herself. Her mother always said, don’t poke the bear. But she couldn’t stop herself.

‘I said I was sorry,’ he repeated, his tone sharper this time. ‘What do you want from me … blood?’

‘Blood?’ She asked. ‘There’s been too much of that spilled in this house. No I don’t want blood. But I would like to live a life where I’m not in constant danger.’

‘Don’t exaggerate, Stella. There you go again with your drama. It doesn’t suit you. Nobody likes a whiner.’ He smiled, flashing his new white veneers at her and his eyes darkened. ‘I hold my hands up. I lost my temper and I’ll go to my grave regretting that. But let’s not pretend that there’s more to this than there is.’

He walked closer to her, a challenge in every step he took. Stella weighed up her options. What would her mam say?

‘Choose your battles, Stella’.

‘I’m not hungry, I’m tired, Matt.’ She pushed the toast away from her.

‘Of course, you must be exhausted. It was a big night. You looked wonderful. I couldn’t have asked for more from you. Adrian was very impressed with you.’

Sorry Mam, I’ve got to ask him. ‘Then why did you hit me?’

‘You know why,’ he replied. ‘You disobeyed me. I can’t allow that.’

‘Because I accepted a drink from your boss’s wife?’

‘I told you before we left, you were allowed two glasses of wine. At no stage did I say to you that a cocktail was allowed. Apart from anything else, do you know how much sugar is in a mojito?’

‘No idea. And I couldn’t care less. Would you have preferred for me to be rude to your boss?’

Matt thought about this and then smiled again, ‘No. But you should have checked with me first.’

There was lots that Stella should have done. ‘I shouldn’t have to ask your permission. I’m not a child,’ Stella replied.

‘Really?’ Matt answered. ‘Well, sometimes you sure act like one. Have you forgotten how much of a mess you were when I met you? Drinking too much, lonely, so desperate for love you’d do anything to get it. I dread to think what would have become of you had I not come along. You’d be nothing without me. You need me.’

Stella eased herself back down into her bed, feeling exhaustion seep from her every pore. She lay her head on the pillow and closed her eyes, praying that he’d go. But then the warmth of his breath on her cheek made her shiver and he whispered to her. ‘Nobody loves you more than me. Don’t you worry, darling. Everything will be just fine. I’ll be more careful in future. I don’t know my own strength. You’re such a delicate little thing. It won’t happen again. Say you’ll forgive me. Say you love me.’

Stella opened her eyes. She knew that like the previous times, her bruises would heal. But she was trapped in this house, in his power, in his control.

Where could she go? She had nothing. No one. Her old life was a distant memory.

She felt the fight go out of her. So she replied, ‘Yes. I love you.’

Over the past year, she’d tried so hard to understand why he behaved as he did. She’d suggested counselling, which he would not entertain for a moment. At first she wanted to believe him when he told her that he would change. She wanted to believe that the act of violence was a one-off. A mistake. She would fix this problem. Together they could overcome anything. Because they loved each other. That’s all that mattered.

So she stayed in a Jekyll and Hyde marriage that was all kinds of wrong. Full of contradictions, as love and tenderness were swapped for humiliation and pain in a fleeting moment.

Mam had been right all those years ago. When someone shows you who they really are, believe them.