A Natural Act (Contradictions) (22 page)

It’s only just sinking in that Craig is about to add to his collec
tion of tattoos and I’m going to witness it. That explains his seemingly random change of conversation this morning.

“
Here’s the stencil,” Jim hands a large sheet of paper to Craig.

He promptly rolls away from me. Apparently he doesn’t want me to see his tattoo yet.

This brings forth all sorts of horrible ideas of what he could be getting done.

“
Looks good,” Craig nods, handing the stencil back.

Within minutes, Craig has been cleaned and
sterilised and another chap from the shop has made me a cuppa and handed me a stack of magazines. Apparently we’ll be here a while.

As the buzzing sound of the needle starts, I look at Craig helplessly. I’m not quite sure what’s happening and I’m scared he’s doing something rash.

“Hey,” he reaches out for me. He’s lying on his side as Jim applies the stencil to his side, from his rib cage to his hipbone. “You okay, Bella?”

“
I’m nervous,” I admit, taking his hand and holding it with both of mine. I still can’t believe how large his hand is compared to mine.

“
It barely hurts,” he chuckles, amused by my discomfort. “You wanna see?”

I nod because most of my discomfort is caused by not knowing what he’s having done.

He sits up and shifts his body to one side, lifting his arm so that I can see the full stencil.

I’m not entirely sure what I was expecting see. My worst nightmares included a scale picture of my face or – worse – Geraldine and Edna. However, I’m almost relieved if a little confused.

“What language is that?” I ask, trying to keep the scepticism from my voice.

“
Not saying,” he grins, watching me carefully.

“
What does it mean?”

“
Not saying,” he repeats, knowing full well how irritating he’s being.

“
Craig,” I wine.

“
Bella,” he returns.

“
You’re not going to tell me are you?” I accept his stubbornness because it’s part of who he is and I’m really quite fond of that person.

He just maintains his smirk and lies back down so that Jim can get to the
stencil.

“
I’m itchin’ to get inkin’,” Jim grins. “You know the drill. Keep still or the smudges are on you. I’m not stopping until you cry or scream. Your girlfriend cries or screams, I carry on but she has to leave.”

“
Roger,” Craig says around a yawn. “Ink me up, Jimmy.”

“Time for a chat, lady,” Craig’s piercing blue eyes meet mine.

“
You want to talk
now
?” I wrinkle my nose, my eyes locked on the needle jabbing at his skin repeatedly.

“
You complain I don’t talk enough,” he returns.

“
Okay,” I reply doubtfully. “But Jim is attacking your epidermis.”

“
Yup,” he nods. “So, spill.”

“
What am I spilling?” I ask, still watching the evil needle of pain.

“
Eyes up here, lady.”

I snap my attention to his, ignoring the strong urge to watch him suffer even though it makes me feel slightly ill.

“Did anybody hit on you?” He demands as soon as he has my attention.

“
You’ve been dying to ask me that, haven’t you?” I tease him.

“
Bella,” he urges, a frown marking his brow.

I contemplate lying to save his feelings but dismiss the notion immediately because I don’t like lies and Craig despises them.

“Matt,” I admit. “But he backed off when Elise told him off. I like Elise.”

“
Me too,” he agrees but I can tell he’s irritated.

“
He…” I start but then I change my mind.

“
What?” He asks. “All honestly, all the way,” he reminds me.

“
Matt… he reminded me a little of Nigel. He freaked me out,” I admit awkwardly, glancing at Jim because he’s obviously a friend of the family and I don’t want anything I say getting back to him.

“
Don’t worry about Jim,” Craig dismisses. “He’s so focussed on what he’s doing he can barely hear his own thoughts. Why did Matt remind you of Nigel?” It’s obvious he doesn’t like the idea and I feel awful for comparing a member of his family to my abuser.

“
I’m sorry,” I cringe. “I didn’t mean to offend you or him.”

He chuckles.
“We’re not exactly best friends. I just need to know whether or not I need to keep him away from you.”

“
No, no,” I rush to take back my words. “I don’t think he would have hurt me,” I explain with a vague certainty. “It’s just, there was that look in his eyes. The same look Nigel had when he was angry. Something… destructive.”

“
Hmm,” Craig nods contemplatively. “Think he’s more self-destructive than destructive. I don’t think he’d hurt you either but if he does
anything
to make you uncomfortable, just tell me, or one of my brothers if I’m not nearby, and we’ll sort him out.”

I nod with a smile because I appreciate his desire to protect me.

“You don’t think Jamie could sort him out?” I tease because he didn’t include her.

“
They don’t get on that well either,” he shakes his head with a sad smile. “He works as a teacher at the school she went to and I think it came between them having a normal brother sister relationship.”

“
That’s a shame,” I frown.

He nods.

“You’re much more talkative when you’re being tortured,” I point out, looking at the outline of his tattoo which is coming to form now.

He just wears his lop-sided smile and watches me as I sip my tea.

“Let’s talk about Nigel,” he says seriously once I put the cup down.

“
Why are you doing this now?” I demand almost irritably.

“
It’s time, Bella,” he says softly. “Plus, I can’t leave if you decide to walk out on me so the ball’s in your court.”

He looks at me earnestly and it almost melts my soul.
He’s in a weakened position right now, something I know he hates, and he’s asking me to open-up because he can’t make me stay and have this conversation if I don’t want to. He’s trying to make me feel safe.

“
Craig,” my voice cracks.

“
S’time, Bella,” he urges gently.

I nod grudgingly because I can see he’s not going to let this slide.

I consider my options and figure there are three. I could tell him little episodes over a long time so that it only hurts in small doses.

I could get it all out quickly, like ripping a plaster off. It would hurt me deep to the core but it’d be over and done and we’d never have to talk about it again.

Option three is to walk out of here now and say goodbye to my frustratingly stubborn, distractingly handsome, suddenly talkative doctor.

And we all know that’s not happening.

I sigh and rest my head in my hands. It feels like he’s asking the impossible.

“
What do you want me to say, Craig?” I snap after a few minutes of trying to find a few hundred words that sum up a few million hurts. “That he hit, slapped, and kicked me? That he mocked, belittled, and teased me? That he made me hate everything about myself and lose everything I held dear? I don’t know what you want from me!”

He’s silent for a while, only grunting as Jim works on his
rib, oblivious to my emotional turmoil.

“
Want you confront those things, Bella. Want you to realise that every single thing that happened to you wasn’t your fault. Want you to forgive yourself.”

“
I’m working on it,” I say in a small voice.

“
Know that, lady. But you’re not there yet.”

I open my mouth to protest but he gets there first.

“And that’s okay,” he smiles and reaches for my hand with the one he’s not holding above his head to allow Jim to work

I’m still scowling because there’s no way to smile with those memories floating around.

“Things like that take time. Moving forwards takes time but you’ll make it harder on yourself if you put obstacles in your path.” He’s still talking softly and there’s nothing about his tone that isn’t serious.

“
What obstacles?” I frown, wiping away a few tears in a thoroughly unladylike fashion.

“
What happened with your parents, Bella?”

I shake my head because the s
hame is too great.

“
Please, Bella,” he pleads. “For me.”

“
That’s not fair, Craig,” I cringe because he did so much for me. I’d do anything for him but that doesn’t make it any easier.

“
In your own time, lady. I’m not going anywhere,” he squeezes my hand.

And I take a deep breath
, preparing myself to revisit that awful day.

“For the love of, God. Who designed this pathetic excuse for a village?” Nigel snaps at me after he ignores the GPS for the third time because “it’s made by the Japanese.”

I tried to tell him that my parents
’ house is down the second turn to the right but he snapped and told me to shut up so I did just that.

“
Why couldn’t you get them to come to ours? It’s much nicer anyway.”

Because you always make them feel like they’re not good enough to step foot in the house.

I keep my thoughts to myself because I know he doesn’t want me to answer.

Seen and not heard. I’m here to look good, not contribute.
Besides, whatever I do say will be used against me anyway.

“
There’s graffiti everywhere here,” he continues his rant. I’m fairly sure what he was looking at were just the chalk drawings of children. They should neither be seen nor heard.

I count my blessings that I’ve managed to make my quarterly contraceptive injections without any suspicion on his part so far.

He wants children; I just don’t think he should have them. Not the way things are now; He’s too stressed out at the moment and things need to settle down. I’m sure it’s just the dissertation in combination with working what is effectively a full time job even if they call it a work placement.

“
There it is,” I squeak, pointing to the turning because the longer this takes, the worse it’ll get.

“
No off street parking either. The car will probably be keyed when we get back. People around here don’t have the inkling for work. They just live on the tax payers’ money and envy those of us who work hard to buy ourselves nice things.”

I don’t bother pointing out that his father’s money paid for the car and that he gets paid more than anybody else in the firm apart from his father despite holding a junior position.

I sit in my seat and wait for Nigel to walk round to my side of the car to let me out. I can’t get out by myself because that would mean I was denying him the chance to act the gentleman. I need to anticipate these things. I need to learn to fit into his class, to raise myself above my origins.

He holds open the door and offers a hand. I make sure to a
rrange the dress he picked out for me so that I can dismount my seat in his luxury car in a ladylike fashion.

“
Isabella,” my mum greets me with a warm hug. She’s dressed in the emerald dress she wears for church and I know she’s worn it just for us.

It means a lot to me that they make the effort to meet Nigel’s exacting standards. I just wish the dress didn’t look so worn. Even if it
were brand new, Nigel would know it wasn’t designer from ten feet away.

“
Karen, Frank,” Nigel nods his head in greeting. “Always a pleasure.”

I smile sweetly and hope that nobody else can hear the insincerity in his voice.
I had hoped he’d learn to like them but my hopes fade a little every time they meet.

He bends in to kiss my mother on the cheek just as she goes to hug him and the awkward moment is
cringe worthy so I busy myself with removing my coat. I’m careful to hang it on its own hook so that it doesn’t get wrinkled.

Nigel would be horribly disappointed if I wrinkled the coat. It’s from the latest range from some designer or another who he considers terribly distinguished.

It is a very lovely thing.

Nigel likes to keep pretty things.
He always tells me I'm pretty.

“
Can I get you something to drink?” Mum asks with a smile I assume she thinks looks real.

“
Carbonated water,” Nigel nods briskly.

I really want a cup of tea but I'm not sure if that's the right thing to say so I just ask for the same.

“Oh, erm,” Mum hedges. “Is tap water okay?”

I see Nigel grimace and I cringe because it's not subtle.

“That's fine,” Nigel sighs, turning to face the window.

Mum looks at me in apology and rushes to the kitchen to fetch the drinks.

“That's a very lovely dress, Sweetpea,” Dad grins at me, sitting in his well weathered but extremely comfortable armchair.

“
Thank you,” I smile politely. “It was a gift from Nigel.” I look to my boyfriend to make sure I've answered to his liking but he's still staring out the window. I think he's checking his car.

“
That's nice,” Dad seems genuinely pleased. “I'm glad you found a man who can buy you nice things.”

“
He's very generous,” I reply automatically.

“
You're a good lad, Nig,” Dad booms in his thick Yorkshire accent. “I weren't expecting our Isabella to start turning up in these fancy clothes when you two met but she looks smashin'.”

“
She is very beautiful,” Nigel agrees, his eyes locked on mine.

I smile, blushi
ng slightly from the compliment but more focussed on the fact that Nigel doesn’t like being called ‘Nig’.

“
Speakin’ of nice things,” Dad rubs the palms of his hands on his knees. A gesture which usually means he’s worried. “How’re you getting on at uni, love?”

“
Excellently,” I try to reassure him, believing he might be worried about my progress. “Nigel’s father has been helping us both with our dissertations. I’m hopeful we can both achieve first class degrees.”

“
It’s a done deal,” Nigel nods confidently.

“
That’s great,” Dad smiles although I’m not sure he fully understands. I’m the first of the West-clan to go to university – of which they’re all very proud.

“
How’re you doing for money?” He asks, the rubbing of his palms increasing in pace.

“
Um,” I frown.  “I get by.”

I get a grant from the university because I co
me from a low-income family and my student loan helps cover the majority of my expenses. The money my parents send me covers my half of the rent so as long as I’m careful with my loan, I’m fine.”

He nods.
“Listen, Sweetpea,” he sighs. “The factory’re laying people off.”

I frown in sympathy. My dad used to work in The Potteries, in the heat of the kilns. He was excellent as his job but as cheap pottery started becoming easily available from
Asia, there was less and less demand for the beautiful pieces coming out of Staffordshire.

When the factory closed, we moved to Derbyshire, hoping that Derby could offer more employment opportunities for my Dad.

I remember a time when he worked three jobs, barely getting a wink of sleep, just to keep food in my lunch boxes for school.

Until recently, he’s been working at a factory nearby, scooping rubber bands into plastic bags ready for distribution.

“I’m so sorry, Dad,” I frown, rushing towards him for a hug. “Will you and Mum be okay?”

“
Don’t be daft,” he pushes me away fondly. “No need to worry about your mum and me. We’ll be fine, we always are.”

My dad is and always has been the provider so I just nod. He would consider it highly offensive if I offered any help. My Mum would let me know discretely if there were anything I could do.

“But it means we can’t send you money until I get back on my feet again. I’m sorry, Sweetpea,” he grimaces and I can see how ashamed he is.

“
Don’t worry, Dad,” I smile, by brain working overtime. “I told you that you didn’t have to send me that money. I can just get a part time job.”

“
Isabella,” Nigel interrupts briskly and I swallow in anticipation because he doesn’t sound like he approves.

“
You need all your time for your dissertation,” he reprimands me.

I open my mouth to speak but I don’t have anything to say so I close it again. It’s hardly a matter of choice. This is the only option.

“I will cover your share of the rent and bills. You can intern for my father’s company over the summer to pay it off,” he decides.

“
That’s right generous of you, lad,” Dad sighs with relief.

I nod my head in agreement but this feels wrong. I saw the way Nigel’s eyes lit up, I saw the way the chess board was spread out in front of him.

Check mate.

I need this degree, I need his help. However, I don’t think he did this out of the goodness off his heart. I’m not sure why he did it but I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.

I’m still trying to figure it out as we sit down to dinner. Dad is tucking in heartily to the stewed chicken my mum has put together. Knowing what I do now, I suspect they used up quite a lot of their money for this week on this one meal.

They’ve even bought wine. Wine which Nigel won’t touch because it isn’t expensive enough.

Dad spills some down his shirt and mum castigates him lightly. It’s a bit of a running joke in the family; Dad is incapable of eating a meal without getting at least some of it on his clothes.

“
Long way from the table to me mouth,” he tells her by way of an excuse. She’s heard it before so she just shakes her head and chuckles.

Nigel looks disgusted at the lack of table decorum. This would never happen at his
parents’ house.

There we eat in silence with our silver cutlery. All eighteen pieces of cutlery.

“Dad,” I hiss as he slurps his wine and burps into the back of his hand.

“
Better out than in,” he shrugs unabashedly.

“
Always the gentleman,” Mum shakes her head fondly.

Nigel is staring at my Dad like he’s some sort of farm animal and he’s scared of getting pig faeces on his
neatly pressed trousers.

I make eye contact with him across the table with a plea in my expression. I beg him not to comment.

I know my family can be a bit crass but they’re part of who I am and I love them.

He shakes his head at me and goes back to suspiciously poking the piece of chicken on his plate with distaste.

The rest of the meal passes in relative silence and I know mum and dad have noticed the icy atmosphere.

“
No, no,” mum tells me as I stand to help her clear the dishes. “You two young’uns sit and relax. You’ve got a long drive back. Me and your Dad will fix this.”

I protest bu
t she insists, leaving Nigel and I alone in the small sitting room.

“
You really need to distance yourself from these people, Isabella,” he jeers at me once the door has shut.

“
These people?” I frown. “Nigel… they’re my family. My roots.”

“
Sometimes roots need to be cut off for the benefit of the flower,” he returns. “You want so stay in third world poverty with them, that’s fine. If you want to live the life I can give you, you can’t have them dragging you back down here.” He gestures around the room which feels like it’s growing smaller all of a sudden.

I try to still my quivering lip because it’s an awful thing to hear. Of course I want the best life I can have. Who doesn’t? But at what cost? I’ve worked hard to get where I am through my studies but that was partly due to the chances given to me by my parents and their constant support.

“Isabella,” Nigel takes my hand and urges me to standing. “You are my girlfriend and I want what’s best for you. I do not mean to hurt you but if you want to be a part of this relationship, I have to be honest with you. You are better than this. Better than them.”

“
They’re all I have,” I whisper, trying hard not to cry because what he’s asking of me isn’t fair.

He’s asking me to
choose between my past and my future.

“
You are a beautiful intelligent woman, Isabella. You deserve what I can give you. I’m a man with an important family heritage. I can’t be associated with people like this. Heavens, if I comported myself like your father at a business dinner, my family’s entire business would be blacklisted by high society.”

I don’t really see the connection between my Dad’s behaviour and Nigel’s business but he’s grow
n up in the world I’m entering and I haven’t.

“
Anything you want, anything you need, Isabella. I can give you that but I need to you to commit fully. I need you to be mine with all that you have.”

“
I am yours,” I tell him, worried that he doesn’t know that already.

“
You are,” he agrees. “Prove it to me.”

I nod tentatively, intimidated by the steel in his gaze.

As the door opens and my mother carries a tray filled with coffee and cakes, I swallow and prepare myself for what I have to do.