A scared wife dreams of escape. This is a romantic story with various characters and lots of twists and turns. There is a smidgeon of violent sex in this chapter, but I have tried to keep it to an acceptable level for those that do not like such things.
As usual in my stories there are lots of people that touch and swirl around the lives of the central characters.
Please read and enjoy.
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The make-up just wouldn't hide the bruise from last night. It was starting to turn that colour that fresh bruises turn, and the slight swell made the left side of her face slightly out of kilter with the rest of her delicate features. Staring into the eyes of the lost soul in the reflection looking back at her, the hopelessness of her situation tightened the aching band that pounded her brain, as she ran through her limited options.
Stay and be used as a punch bag, humiliated and trapped, or run with no-where to go, and no one to go to.
How did it come to this?
Just five years ago the possibilities seemed so sweet before them. He seemed to want her, need her, care for her. He promised so much, but now, the promise had become a nightmare, and her dreams were mocked by the reflection in the mirror.
"You fool, why didn't you see, why didn't you guess? Why would he have wanted you?" she castigated herself yet again.
Going through the motions, pulling herself together, she finished getting ready for work. On the bus she kept her head down, letting her light brown hair fall forward, hoping that no one would notice her mark of shame. Alighting at the stop just yards from the old lady's house, still keeping her head averted she bumped into someone, nearly falling over, and then hurried past the large male form mumbling her embarrassed apology as she half ran, half lurched up to the front gate, and then through the front door, letting herself in to the house.
The dark gloom of the hallway coupled with the sweet smell of the furniture wax, helped to relax her as she removed her jacket, and called out "Mrs Jackson, It's me."
"In here love...."
Wandering down the hall, past the staircase to the sitting room filled with the photos of a life lived, and the many accumulated nic nacs, she found the frail body nestled on the sofa filled with the big squishy cushions, a photo album open on the old lady's lap. "Just wandering down memory lane love." Her eyes slightly moist with the memories, the grey haired and frail woman looked up, her pale blue eyes filled with pain from a life coming to an end, and the sadness that remembering always gave her. "He always called me his princess, treated me like a Queen he did", she sighed as she turned over the page. "If he only knew how she has treated me these last couple of years he would die of shame."
Laura looked down at the picture in the album. The photo of Mrs Jackson's only grandchild stared back at her, a pretty young woman, smiling with a knowing smile, long black hair and a confidence that Laura envied. The thought ran through her mind, "She wouldn't take anything from a man except what she demanded."
"No love, your right, my Becky was a demanding girl. Demanding and selfish. Took, took, took, and then when I could give no more, went. Just like her mother, went and found some poor sap to give her more I expect."
Laura glanced up, realising she must have spoken her thoughts out loud. "So you have no idea where she is then? ........... had no contact from her Mrs J?"
"No! Not these last 2 years. Left and didn't look back, the ungrateful girl. She's about five years older than you. I looked after her from the age of twelve, since my daughter died. " and the old lady sighed as she turned the pages of the album.
Moving to the kitchen, Laura called over her shoulder, "Tea or a glass of water to take the pills?"
"Water love, and bring in the ticket and let's check the results from Saturday's game."
Grabbing a glass from the draining board and filling it with water, she wandered back in to the sitting room, holding out the glass and picking up the bottle containing the small white pills, she shook out the first two of the day.
"The paper's over there on the table ...... take the ticket over and see if I have won another tenner"
Laura sat down at the lovely walnut table at the end of the room, the smell of wax strong, the shine on the wood glossy and warm, she picked up the newspaper that lay next to the boxes of medicine and hypodermics ready for the day ahead's schedule of pain relief.
Laying like a scar on the lovingly polished wood surface.
It seemed so unfair that the old lady should come to the end of her time with no one else to care for her but a hired nurse and home helps. No family that would take the time to visit, no friends that survive to sit and talk, a life lived giving love but devoid of love at the end.
Laura realised she was getting maudlin as she opened the paper to the page showing Saturday's lottery results. The old lady did a lucky dip every Saturday which Laura picked up for her on her Friday visit whilst getting the weekend groceries. Mrs J seemed to get a real kick out of the anticipation and occasional £10 win. Half heartedly she looked at the results whilst her mind still pounded with the pain of last night's beating.
She never knew what set him off each time.
Sometimes the meal was not to his liking,sometimes her lack of putting things back as he liked after tidying up the house. And sometimes there was no reason except he came home from the office in a bad mood. Those were the worst ones, as he would scream obscenities at her as he hit and kicked her. Screaming about how she looked, her lack of sex appeal, her lanky hair, her poor house-keeping, his disdain for her tiny breasts.
