Читать книгу The Realm - S. C. Loader - Страница 9

Chapter 3

Whatever Richard was waiting for had yet to arrive and Miriam was now bored. Her own excuse for not turning up for work without a good reason was every woman’s standby in case of an emergency, ‘Woman’s problems!’ These were never questioned by anybody, just blindly accepted even without the requisite doctor’s certificate. During the intervening hour or so that had passed, she was not sure precisely how long as her watch had stopped functioning, she had filled her mind with thoughts of work, home and revenge, the latter consuming a greater proportion of that time than the other two.

However, even these thoughts had run their course and with nothing else of importance to occupy her mind, she had become bored. Another habitual glance at her watch confirmed its demise and neither shaking her arm nor tapping the glass face with the tip of her manicured fingernail improved that status, especially annoying as only the previous week it had received an extortionately priced service and a new battery.

Her eyes passed around the square, the brightly painted doors, the colourful facades, the beautiful greenery in its centre, the flowers, the peacefulness, the day’s warmth and the glorious sunshine all combined to make it look wonderfully idyllic, but the absence of other human life and the strange disappearances of both the station and the bench still left her with a feeling of uneasiness. Fortunately, she was not alone, she had a strong handsome man beside her, unfortunately, it was her weak-minded wimp of a husband. After a year of abstinence and if it had been any one of a large number of other men known to her, then she would have known exactly how to occupy a few hours and if he had the stamina, the whole day. While she daydreamed over her imaginary lover, wild intimate pictures formed in her mind’s eye. He was young, muscular and masterful, his insatiable lust and sexual dominance led her to do and allow things she had never done before, things that made her skin tingle with excitement. Such were her highly promiscuous thoughts that a blush had begun to colour her face, then Richard suddenly coughed and it all vanished.

She looked disdainfully at her husband, ‘Shame,’ she said speaking her thoughts aloud.

‘About what?’ asked Richard lifting his head.

‘Nothing you need concern yourself about.’

Miriam pulled her shoes back on.

‘Going somewhere?’ enquired Richard.

‘I’m bored! I’m going to look around the park and the church.’

‘Wait a bit, I’ll come too.’

Richard picked up his jacket and tie.

‘Why are you bringing them along?’

‘Because they might get stolen!’ then realising their circumstances dropped them again. ‘Actually, it would be rather nice if they were.’

The heat of the day had risen considerably, Richard rolled up his shirt sleeves, unbuttoned the front and pulled it out of his trousers, ‘Wonderful, that’s a lot cooler!’

‘I wish I could do the same.’

‘Why don’t you? You could walk around stark naked if you like, who’s to see?’

‘You!’

Richard had his next retort on the tip of his tongue but chose to swallow it back down, another heated argument he knew would only end up with her usual threat, divorce. A threat he was becoming extremely resentful over. Miriam not only used it the moment she perceived she might be on the losing end of a dispute but also when she wanted to end a conversation on her own terms. The price he felt he was being asked to pay, was slowly becoming too high.

Their exploration of the park provided little of interest, although the children’s playground situated opposite the partly demolished house did occupy some of their time. After extensive testing, the swings and the roundabout were proclaimed to be in full working order. Unfortunately, the slide remained untested, nevertheless, it appeared to be fully functional. There was also a large sandpit and eight benches, all paired back-to-back and randomly sited. There was also a standpipe bearing a sign ‘Drinking Water Only’ with a slow steady trickle of water issuing from a tap that would not close fully.

The ‘Saint Catherine’s Church Notice Board’ opposite the furniture shop was little more than an unsecured glassfronted cabinet, displaying nothing more than a collection of drawing pins in various states of decay.

The further provision of seating had been neglected in the rest of the park, with only three more benches besides those in the children’s playground area, one next to the notice board facing the furniture shop, one on the opposite side of the park facing the station site and finally one facing the church on the park’s northern side. Great care had been paid to the lawns, all of which were neatly cut and trimmed, and the flower beds under the twenty small trees scattered throughout the park had all been planted with Marigolds and Violets.

Much to Richard’s disappointment none of the four large chestnut trees at the northern end were climbable, they had all suffered the same fate as the three walnut trees at the southern end, having had all of their lower branches lopped off. The northern end played host to a non-functioning fountain and its three-metre wide basin was practically empty save for the remaining water which did not even cover their feet, but it was at least cooling.

With the park having been suitably explored Miriam’s attention turned to the church, Richard’s interest in such buildings rated only a little higher than that of bus stops.

Dropping his shoes and socks onto the grass Richard informed her, ‘I’ll wait here.’

Miriam said nothing in reply, added her own shoes to the pile and continued on to the church gates. Beyond them, within a small enclosed compound, lay the church with its outer doors invitingly open.

Neither gate would open, Miriam shook them and tried again, still, they would not open.

‘Locked?’ enquired Richard.

‘There isn’t one!’ he was advised in return. ‘Come and open them, they’re stuck.’

A little resentful Richard obediently complied. Miriam was quite right, the two-metre-high wrought iron gates were well and truly stuck. He checked to see if the lever handle on the right-hand gate was working properly, it fully withdrew the bolt when depressed. The handle on the left gate was fixed. Although neither lever plate had a keyhole he checked through the gap between the gates for a locking bolt, there was none. Neither were there any padlocks, chains or bars to prevent them from opening and the hinges bore the signs of oil so they were not seized. After hurting his shoulder in the manly use of brute force he declared, ‘I give up, they’re stuck fast!’

‘Lift one off its hinges!’

‘What! Do you know how heavy these things are?’

‘Are you a man or just a pitiful excuse for one?’ accompanied Miriam’s derisive look.

Compelled to defend his manhood he begrudgingly agreed, checking the hinges on the left-hand gate he pronounced, ‘Okay, it’s possible. Hold that handle down on that gate while I lift this one.’

Miriam did as she was instructed and watched Richard’s grunting groaning attempts to lift the gate with inward amusement. Further attempts with the other gate also failed to produce the desired effect. Sweaty and exhausted Richard walked away from the gates muttering to himself, leaving Miriam admiring the ability of two insignificant little gates to prove her point.

When she joined him he was examining the scratches to the palms of his hands.

‘Oh dear, has my poor little debt collector roughed up his handy pandies?’

Richard bit his tongue.

‘What will pulsating Petra say next time you slip them under her bra?’

‘Leave her out of this!’

‘I don’t expect the filthy bitch would even notice, the whore’s too busy spreading her legs!’

‘Don’t push it!’ he warned.

Miriam took no notice, ‘What else does your little puppy dog do for you? Beg to be screwed? Talk dirty while you’re screwing her?’

Enraged, Richard stood up, grabbed his shoes and socks and with a departing, ‘You’ll eat those words one day!’ he stormed away fuming with rage.

‘Traitorous two-timing bastard!’ she screamed after him.

As Richard followed the path down the eastern side of the church and out of Miriam’s sight he quietly repeated to himself, ‘The price is too high… the price is too high…’

Miriam sat with her face buried in her hands desperately trying to suppress another far stronger emotion screaming to be voiced, but the only release it found was through her tears.

Miriam eventually found him at the other end of the park sulking, sat with his back to one of the large walnut trees listening to his watch.

‘What time is it?’ she asked as if nothing had passed between them. ‘Mine has stopped!’

‘Pile of junk!’ came a temper laden reply, accompanied by a watch flung carelessly in her general direction.

She picked the watch up and walked away. Reunited with the bag of apples she compared the two watches under the shade of another tree, both had stopped at exactly the same time, two minutes past eight, even the second hands were both in identical positions. For the duration, it took to eat an apple she thought about the significance of this unusual coincidence. A nap followed the unresolved puzzle.

With the sun at its zenith and his restlessness and anger at matching levels, Richard had returned to his quest for an exit from this nightmare afresh.

Following his earlier route around the square and with desperation having given him a different pair of eyes, he now sought new possibilities of escape. An open window could possibly allow access through to the gardens behind, climbable walls of any description, overlooked manhole covers, anything that held the hope of escape. He found nothing.

There was not a single open window to be found in the entire square, neither on the ground, second or third floors. There were no scalable facades or drainpipes and there was only one wall that was not part of a house. That was the wall at the rear of the station site, but it was over two stories high and provided neither footing nor handgrips that would allow it to be ascended. No more unnoticed manhole covers were discovered nor anything else that held the hope of escape.

A second tour around the square entailed banging on every single door loudly with the side of his fist, Miriam awoke from her nap to the sound of this, unfortunately, no one else did. The second tour ended with the resolve, despite its illegality, to smash a window or break down a door if no one turned up by evening.

The evening eventually fell after a long hot drawn-out mind-numbingly boring afternoon in which Richard’s seething anger towards Miriam had still failed to ease.

With a brick gleaned from the station site he spent the evening touring the square again in the vain attempt of fulfilling his earlier resolve to smash his way into a house, but every single window he tried to break appeared to be made of bulletproof glass. None broke, not even under the most powerful and anger laden of throws. The only damage inflicted by all his efforts was to his right hand, blisters had formed on two fingertips and one on his palm, the discomfort they invoked finally brought about the admission of defeat.

Miriam had spent the whole afternoon and the evening under her chosen tree and apart from an odd foray to the standpipe for a drink, she had spent her time either daydreaming about her masterful lover or watching Richard’s attempts to locate an exit.

In the last fading rays of daylight Richard returned to her.

‘Where are we going to sleep tonight?’ she asked.

He ignored the question and took an apple from the bag, looking disdainfully at it he took a bite and walked away.

‘I said where are we going to sleep tonight?’

Her question remained unanswered.

As the night slowly drew its cloak over the square their last hopes of rescue faded along with familiar objects into the darkness and with neither the flight nor call of the birds to break it, an eerie unsettling silence descended. A light would have been calming, but not a single one shone anywhere, neither from a window nor from beyond the rooftops and even the light from the waning half-moon seemed unusually weak.

Miriam settled herself down under the tree where she had spent the day, Richard chose the park bench facing the station site, but neither had spent a night out in the open before and without walls or a roof they felt the fullness of their vulnerability. The enclosing blackness hid the horrors of their nightmares, terrors amplified by an ominous undisturbed silence.

A cool morning followed a long restless night. When Richard awoke not only was he cold, but his muscles also ached painfully and his joints were stiff from both the previous day’s exertions and from a particularly hard uncomfortable bed. Miriam was lying on the ground next to him already awake and shivering with the freshness of the morning, her bare suntanned legs visibly covered in goosebumps.

As Richard sat up so did Miriam, ‘Some gentleman you are! Leaving me alone in the middle of the park. What if someone would have come along during the night and attacked me?’

Richard rubbed his arms to warm himself up a little, ‘They wouldn’t have stood a chance against that vicious tongue of yours.’

‘Where are you going?’ she asked as he walked away, he failed to answer.

‘What about me?’ she demanded loudly.

‘You can do as you damn well please, but keep away from me! I don’t want to know you anymore,’ he then walked off out of earshot.

Their second day was spent under their respective trees and with only the hope of imminent rescue to occupy their thoughts it became a tediously long day. A day devoid of companionship or conversation, a day where escape remained elusive and more windows failed to break. A day of unrelenting heat and merciless boredom. A day where their only contact with one another was when Richard helped himself to an apple, and on the occasion when they both inadvertently chose to go to the standpipe at the same time for a drink.

For their second night, Richard had chosen the bench on the north side of the park near the fountain, a choice based solely on the grounds that it was the greatest distance from Miriam attainable. Both were grateful for a warm night, but the same uneasiness of the previous one haunted their attempts to find sleep again and another long restless night ensued.

The third day started as the second had, both cold from the fresh morning air and again Richard found Miriam laying on the ground next to his bench.

‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded.

‘What’s wrong, disappointed not to find one of your filthy whores, legs spread and begging for you?’

Richard walked away.

The morning duplicated the previous day’s wearisome wait to be rescued. Richard having resigned himself to the fact that he was unable to find any form of escape followed Miriam’s example and spent it improving his suntan. By late morning even that small pleasure had become impossible under the furnace above their heads.

Miriam appeared at his side and dropped an apple in his lap, ‘You had better eat that,’ she said.

Richard picked it up and without the slightest enthusiasm took a bite.

‘No one’s coming are they?’ asked Miriam.

Richard looked up, Miriam stood above him still fully dressed in the midday heat, the only concession she had made was to undo the buttons of her blouse. She immediately pulled the two halves closed.

‘Don’t look at me like I’m one of your dirty bitches! That slut Petra may like you ogling her tits, but I don’t!’

Richard ignored her remark and set about the rest of his apple without appetite.

‘Well answer me!’ Miriam demanded.

‘No, it doesn’t look like it.’

‘Typical! I would have known what to do if I were stuck her with a real man.’

‘Well, you’re not. So go away before you push your luck any further.’

‘And what are you going to do about it if I don’t?’ As she turned to leave and with an extra note of derisiveness in her voice added, ‘that’ll take a real man, not the pretence of one!’

Despite some half-hearted attempts to draw his thoughts elsewhere, over the hours it took the morning to slowly drag itself towards the afternoon, Richard’s mind steadfastly forced a replay of every anger raising encounter he had had with Miriam since their arrival.

Once his thoughts had run their ire inducing course he abruptly took to his feet, telling himself aloud, ‘It’s time to put that bitch in her place once and for all.’

He glared at the reclined figure lying on the grass.

Moments later he stood between her legs towering over her, she seemed to be sleeping, but that was of no concern to him, he had made up his mind and it was time for her to pay the bill.

‘What do you want?’ scowled Miriam.

‘I want to rip that vicious vindictive tongue out of your mouth!’

‘Don’t you dare touch me!’ and with dangerously narrowing eyes added, ‘or I’ll rip your balls off!’

‘You did that a year ago when you chose to believe someone's lies over the word of your own husband,’ and with undisguised hatred, in his eyes, he dropped his wedding ring on her stomach before adding, ‘we’re finished! From now on we go our separate ways.’

Richard turned and walked away before Miriam could voice any opinion she may have had, and by the time she had recovered his ring, Richard was nowhere to be seen.

Confused, Miriam sat alone long into the afternoon staring at a ring in one hand and trying to stem the flow of her tears with the other.

Richard sat in a cool doorway down the side street at the northern end, reached via the southern end, this he deemed to be the most distant point from Miriam possible. He was waiting irritably for somebody, anybody to come along either to help or to ridicule, it no longer mattered which just so long as it meant he could leave this place. He had even taken to looking through windows to see if there was anyone inside, but the unremitting heat had forced him to seek the coolness of the doorway and now the unwelcome presence of both hunger and thirst were adding to his irritability. His hunger he could ignore, but not his thirst. Although the sun was slowly setting, the heat still left beads of sweat trickling down his forehead and chest, and dehydration was beginning to make him feel lightheaded.

As he crossed the park towards the standpipe he noticed Miriam still sitting where he had left her, deliberately turning his back to her he drank copiously, then washed his face and liberally splashed refreshing cool water over his arms and chest, soaking most of his shirt in the process. By the time he had finished Miriam was standing next to him.

‘You forgot this,’ in her shaking outstretched hand lay his ring.

He looked at the ring and then at Miriam, the hatred in his eyes waned momentarily, then returned and he walked away.

***

Still confused and with nothing better to do Miriam slowly gathered all of their belongings together from under the trees. She brought everything back and placed them on one of the shady double benches near the children’s playground, under the only large tree at that end of the park without an unwanted association attached to it. Richard’s pocket knife fell from his jacket as she laid it down.

She stared at it for some time with bloodletting revenge filling her thoughts. He had chosen Petra over her! Petra! His dreadfully ugly lapdog of a secretary, she had won him! Petra, who dressed herself with rejects from second-hand shops and who had never heard of, let alone visited a manicurist. Petra, whose lank manky hair had never seen a stylist and who never wore, and in all probability, had absolutely no idea of what make-up was for. This appallingly bland excuse of a woman had won him over! That hurt! That hurt deeply! How could Richard stoop so low?

Miriam picked up the pocket knife and opened out its ten-centimetre long blade. It was surgically spotless, shiny and razor-sharp and her thoughts returned to her rival.

She was still focused on the blade when loud noises and cursing broke through her fiercely competing thoughts. Richard was over by the station site throwing bricks again. She looked at the blade and, for better or for worse, she took her decision.

Richard was unaware of Miriam’s approach. In the hope of finding a way out of this horror, he was busy trying to break down a door so that he could access the gardens to the rear of the property. Despite the stomach sinking feeling such vandalism incited, his determination held sway. Picking up the brick for yet another attempt on his chosen victim he started at the sudden and unexpected sight of Miriam standing beside him, her arm partly stretched out towards him with something in her hand, glinting as it caught the evening sun.

The gritted expression of purpose fell instantly from his face; disbelief replaced it and although questions were being asked by his eyes nothing passed his lips.

Taking the opportunity Miriam thrust her hand forward.

Richard’s eyes opened wide and slowly narrowed again, and the hatred that had once filled them vanished. Stepping backwards, he turned away and slowly made his way to the steps below his target and sat himself down, the brick slipped from his inattentive hand and he flopped back against the door.

Miriam fell to her knees, her arm still outstretched, ‘Why?’ she demanded. ‘Tell me why?’

Richard remained silent, his arms lay across his stomach and his eyes fell closed.

Miriam pleaded for an answer, ‘Please, please tell me why?’ and even though she had shed countless tears that day two more made their way down her cheeks. ‘Please tell me why?’ she begged.

His eyes opened slowly and lifting a hand he looked at it long and hard before lowing it again. Tears began to roll down his face, ‘Because…’

Silence fell again.

Miriam went and knelt before his feet, ‘Please, I need to know why?’

Startling her, Richard drew a sudden deep haltering breath, sniffed back his tears and struggled to his feet, ‘Because I no longer have a wife!’

‘Yes you have!’ she offered out the ring in her hand again. ‘I’m your wife.’

‘No, you’re not, I lost my wife long ago when I made a mistake that I’ve never been able to rectify.’

‘But…’

‘No buts! Our mockery of a marriage ends today! I’ve had enough of you, now go away!’

With that said, he picked up the brick and moved on down the street to resume his vandalising attack on another unsuspecting door.

A short while later Miriam sat down on the kerb near Richard, watching quietly while fiddling thoughtfully with his ring. As he returned from retrieving the brick she asked, ‘Please tell…’

Richard’s index finger immediately shot out pointing directly at her face, a ferocious expression filled his face and hatred returned to his eyes, ‘I’ll tell you why!’ he growled through bared teeth. ‘Because every time you open that vile mouth, your vicious sadistic tongue spits out venom. I’ve had enough of your attacks on me and I am no longer prepared to listen to the sickening filth you direct at one of my colleagues. You have no reason whatsoever to attack her…’

‘Yes I have!’ interrupted Miriam.

A brick suddenly appeared in front of her face wavering ominously, ‘You have NO reason! NONE whatsoever! You have no idea what that girl has been through, but I can tell you this, if I EVER hear another word spoken against her, I will drag you screaming through the whole God-damned city by your hair and make you apologise to her personally, then I will tear that revolting tongue out of your head so that she will never have to hear the disgusting filth spoken against her that I have.’

The brick before Miriam’s face disappeared, ‘When you have learnt to talk in a civilised tongue, then I may listen, but until then… go away!’

He turned his back to her, Miriam stood and backed off a couple of steps and hesitated, unsure of what she should do.

Richard turned around, ‘Please… just go away.’

Miriam found herself in front of the church gates, they would not open for her, the outer doors of the church were, but she could neither reach them nor what she sought inside. Her hands slipped down the upright bars of the gates as she knelt, then closing her eyes she silently prayed.

To the echoing sounds of Richard’s resolution, she made her way back to the bench where their things lay, the sun had long since left the sky and the day’s heat was receding apace. She sat with her blazer over her shoulders and waited.

In the semi-darkness, Richard appeared beside her, discarded his shirt and made for the standpipe, where he drank, washed his face, arms and chest, and finally left his right hand under the running water for some considerable time. Miriam watched every move and when he came closer she warily handed him his shirt in one hand and his ring in the other. He took the shirt. Having dressed he sat down beside her.

Looking up into the rapidly deepening darkness of the night sky and without a hint of the anger that had filled his voice previously he said, ‘Looks like we’re sleeping under the stars again tonight.’

Cautiously Miriam asked, ‘Could you not get into the house?’

‘No,’ he replied with a deep accompanying sigh.

‘Windows?’

‘Bulletproof glass, every single one of them.’

‘Perhaps tomorrow you will manage to break through the door.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Why?’

‘Because the brick does no more damage to the woodwork than my fingers would do to concrete. Both doors are unmarked, totally unmarked! They bear neither a single dent nor a scratch.’

‘How can that be?’

‘Pass! Ask me something else. I have no answer to that one.’

Silence descended and they watched the stars grow steadily brighter and familiar objects fade into the darkness.

‘Please may I sleep with you tonight?’ asked Miriam.

‘I suppose so,’ he replied without enthusiasm.

Richard lay on one side of the double bench and Miriam on the other, but neither could fall asleep. Despite it being their third night, the absolute silence and the insecurity of lying out in the open would not let Richard relax enough and Miriam’s increasingly frequent shivers, felt through the bench, pulled at his conscience. Walking around to Miriam’s side of the bench he took her hand, ‘Come with me.’

She followed without questioning him. Removing his jacket, he took his shirt off and handed it to Miriam, then put the jacket back on and sat up against a tree trunk.

‘Wear your blazer the other way around so the back is at the front, then come and sit here between my legs with your back to me.’

Miriam followed his bizarre instructions.

‘Now wrap my shirt around your legs and lean back against me.’

Again Miriam complied.

Richard pulled his jacket around Miriam as far as it would reach then wrapped his arms around her.

‘Warmer?’ he asked.

‘Yes, thank you. Much warmer.’

‘Lay your head against my arm, I’ll be here awake, you’re not alone and there’s nothing out there in the darkness to be afraid of,’ and with a reassuring hug he added, ‘now try to get some sleep.’

Miriam’s head gently fell against his arm and all fell silently still again.

A lot of time passed before a small timid voice asked, ‘Richard?’

‘I’m still here.’

‘Why are you doing this? After all the things you said today?’’

‘Because…’

‘Because?’

‘I’m doing what I would expect any man to do for a woman under these circumstances.’

‘Even though she’s not his wife?’

‘Even then.’

‘Even though you hate her?’

A thoughtful pause followed, it ended with a ‘Hush now, try to get some sleep.’

Another long and immeasurable length of time dragged by, but neither had found the peace and restfulness of sleep.

‘Richard?’

‘I’m still here.’

‘Can we lie down, please? I can’t sleep sitting up.’

‘Okay.’

Shortly they were lying on the cool grass on their sides. Miriam still had her back to Richard and he had tucked himself tightly up against her. He had also provided her with a pillow of his right arm, his left wrapped securely around her. Miriam’s hands found solace in holding his left hand and although he felt her explore the ringless finger he said nothing.

Richard felt ill-at-ease in their new position, not because of Miriam, but because his back was exposed and unguarded, sleep if it ever came to him would be a long way away.

Miriam’s mind was too preoccupied to find her way to sleep, it was not the threat of the unknown that held her mind captive, but those that had sprung from her once gentle unassuming husband. He had a temper that she never knew he possessed and it had been ferociously turned against her, he threatened disfigurement with a brick, said things she never believed him capable of and in a manner that had terrified her, but most distressing of all, he had divorced her in his mind.

Her quiet voice broke the silence once again, admitting, although not detailing her problem.

‘I can’t sleep, my mind will not settle, can you tell me a story?’

‘A story?’

‘One with a happy ending.’

‘I only know one story and it only holds the hope of a happy ending.’

Miriam shuffled backwards and tightened his arm against herself, ‘Will you tell it to me please?’

‘Only if you’re sure you want to hear it. It’s a true story, there’s no magic fairy in this one.’

‘Please I’m sure.’

‘Okay… there was once a pretty young woman happily married to the man of her dreams. Her husband was loving respectful and hardworking, and they lived together in a small house on the outskirts of the city. They had everything they could want, he had a brand new sports car which was his pride and joy, she had a house full of wonderful new things, they both had good secure jobs and a healthy bank balance. There was only one thing missing from their lives, children. She desperately wanted one, or more, but he did not. One day fate took a hand and she fell pregnant, the husband at first refused to believe the child was his, but eventually came to begrudgingly accept it.

All was well until one night when he was stopped within sight of his home by the police at a checkpoint, although he had been out with a few mates he had been responsible enough not to drink too much and had all the paperwork the police would want to see. However, the police found his rear taillights were faulty. After further investigation they also discovered his brake lights, reversing lights, indicators, fog lights and even his boot light were also faulty, nothing worked! There was a serious fault on his brand new pride and joy. The police did not fine him, but they did place a Compulsorily Repair Notice on the car, which meant he was not allowed to drive it on public roads until the fault had been repaired. If he did, without having undertaken the repairs, he faced the possibility of a massive fine or even imprisonment. The husband, although allowed to take his car home under police escort was furious, the repairs would take days and he needed the car for his work, their only car.’

Before continuing Richard adjusted his jacket to block a gap through which the cool night air crept.

‘The husband drank three-quarters of a bottle of whisky to console himself, but while undressing upstairs he lost his patience with something and his wife duly went up to calm him. He vented his temper on her in two words, “Filthy whore,” and slapped her face, the first time he had ever laid a hand on her. The half comatose husband then went to bed, slamming the bedroom door closed behind himself. Distressed at her husband’s mistreatment and hearing what he truly thought of her, the wife left the house in tears intending to return only once she had given him enough time to fall asleep. She didn’t return, in her distraught state she walked out into the path of a car about five streets from where she lived. Unfortunately, neither the police nor the ambulance crew were able to identify her, not only because she had been rendered unconscious by the accident, but also because she had left the house without any form of identification.

By and by she ended up in the hospital, she had suffered multiple fractures to one leg, another to her hips and she had also lost the child that she so desperately wanted.

Naturally, she spent some considerable time in hospital, after the surgeons had performed the miracles that they do, the skill of the doctors and nurses slowly brought her back to health. During that time her elderly and infirm parents could only manage to visit her once or twice, they lived far away at the other end of the country. Her friends and colleagues visited as often as they could, but most were married and had families themselves and could only devote a small amount of their time to her. Luckily her boss, also a married man found the time to visit as often as possible, brought or sent her flowers, and supplied everything she asked for and even those things she was too shy to ask for.

Her husband never visited her…’

‘What! Why?’

‘He died the following day in an accident on a fog-shrouded motorway. A fully laden articulated lorry ran into his unlit car from behind crushing him up against another in front. As the police had been unable to locate him during the night he died without ever knowing the damage his abuse had inflicted upon his wife and child.

Anyway, after a lengthy stay in the hospital, the wife tried to resume her normal life or what was left of it. Her boss tried to help this process by setting himself up as an anchor point, someone she could trust and always go to for help, whether it was just for advice, financial aid or moral support, a shoulder to cry on or just someone to talk to. Nevertheless, her road back to a normal life was not an easy one. A journey severely hampered by her own self-consciousness, she now had a pronounced limp which embarrassed her dreadfully, as did the scars on her leg and abdomen. She tried to hide herself by becoming just another unnoticeable face in the crowd. She stopped wearing modern clothing, opting for the bland and unappealing, stopped wearing make-up and allowed her hair to become dull and unattractive. She deliberately avoided doing anything with her appearance that would make her stand out in a crowd.

But this woman had an amazing depth of inner strength and once she had hidden the physical scars of that night behind her disguise, she managed to complete her journey.

Despite the horrors she had endured, she fought throughout to maintain a smile on her face, in her heart and in her voice, and in all that time she never once spoke ill of her husband, not one single solitary word. He had destroyed their future, himself and their child, but she never said a word. Besides the police, only three people ever knew the truth of what happened that night, her parents and her boss.

Then not so long ago fortune smiled upon her and brought a young man into her life, they fell deeply in love and now wait happily, if not a little impatiently for their wedding day to arrive. He knows she is an incredibly loving, courageous and forgiving woman, and he also knows that underneath that disguise she wears is a pretty young woman whose real beauty lies deep within.

And that is the end of my story.’

‘What’s her name? You didn’t say.’

There was a momentary pause, ‘Her boss is doing what he expects every man to do for a woman in your circumstances.’

Miriam twisted her head towards him, but before she could say anything Richard added, ‘Hush now, it’s time to go to sleep.’