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Authors: Ilsa Evans

Broken (29 page)

BOOK: Broken
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Mattie got up from the couch reluctantly, and wrapped her scarf
loosely around her neck. Then she fixed a polite smile on her face before opening the front door. ‘Hilda, how are you?'

‘Fine, fine.' Hilda looked at Mattie's face searchingly. ‘And you?'

‘Oh, good. Thanks.'

‘Too busy for a coffee?'

‘Coffee?' repeated Mattie, before giving in to the inevitable and standing back. ‘No, of course not. Come in.'

Hilda followed her through to the kitchen and sat down in her usual place while Mattie put the kettle on and prepared the plunger. In her old grey tracksuit with its oversized windcheater and loose pants, she felt like a slob next to Hilda, who was impeccably dressed in her navy slacks and a crisp white ribbed top. Mattie ran her fingers through her hair surreptitiously, avoiding the tender spots.

‘Your party went well,' said Hilda, breaking the silence. ‘Very enjoyable.'

‘Yes, it was, wasn't it? And thanks again for the strudel.'

‘My pleasure.'

‘Here we go.' Mattie put a mug of coffee in front of Hilda and then, putting hers down on the table opposite, slid into a chair. She wrapped her hands around the mug and smiled across at her guest. ‘You're looking very dressy. Are you off somewhere?'

‘I was supposed to be,' answered Hilda obliquely, ‘but I am here instead.'

‘Oh?'

‘Yes. See, my Ernest is a good man, but very protective. And very . . . private to other people's business.' Hilda frowned momentarily. ‘Maybe that is not the right word.'

‘Oh?' repeated Mattie, unsure of where the conversation was going, and not really caring.

‘He does not believe in interfering.
That
is what I mean.'

‘Oh,' said Mattie, yet again, as a frisson of premonition sharpened her senses.

‘We heard you on Sunday night,' Hilda stated, looking closely at Mattie to gauge her reaction to this. ‘You and your husband. Fighting.'

Mattie stared back, unable to answer.

‘He was yelling, a lot. Then you screamed. And I think he threw you against the wall, because I heard a thump. Then more thumping.'

Mattie still didn't know what to say, but she felt like crying with embarrassment.

‘My guess is that he choked you or something too,' continued Hilda matter-of-factly, ‘because I can see a bit of bruising under your scarf.'

‘God.' Mattie's hand flew up to the scarf in a belated but automatic attempt to adjust it. She felt exposed, mortified, and wished fervently that she could disappear. Shrink until she could slip through the cracks in the linoleum, and vanish.

‘I wanted to come over but Ernest said it was none of our business. Then we argued about calling the police but the noises stopped, so Ernest said that was that. It was over. He forbade me to come over the next morning. In fact, to be truthful, he has forbidden me to visit at all. He does not wish for us to be involved.'

‘Then why are you here?' asked Mattie in a small voice.

‘Because he can be a fool sometimes and I know better. And I am very ashamed for not coming over until now but I have to try and keep the peace. So Ernest has gone to the bowls and I said I was going to visit our son.'

‘But you'll get found out!'

‘No matter.' Hilda shrugged. ‘He is wrong and he even knows he is wrong. Deep down.'

Mattie took an even breath. ‘Look, Hilda, I'm very grateful for your concern but it's not as bad as you seem to think. Yes, we
did
have an argument but there was no throwing against the wall or anything. And the bruises are . . . from something else.'

‘Fiddlesticks,' said Hilda, sounding annoyed for the first time. ‘Bull-crap.'

‘It's
true.'
Mattie frowned. ‘Why would I say it if it wasn't true?'

‘Because you are a fool also.' Hilda shook a finger at Mattie. ‘And trying to protect him. And probably also because you feel embarrassed.'

‘No, you're wrong. I just –'

‘Listen to me,' Hilda thinned her lips at Mattie angrily. ‘You remember I told you about my sister? Gertrude? Well, she had a husband like
yours. He liked to emphasise his points with his fist. No, not all the time. Sometimes he was Prince Charming himself, and people would say, “Is that Bert not a nice fellow? Gertrude is
so
lucky to have him”. And even that stupid Gertrude thought she was lucky to have him, and that she would never get another man if she left. Not one so charming, and educated, and well-paid. And he continued to be charming, and educated, and well-paid, and my sister became a frightened little mouse. And people started to say, “Why does he put up with her?” and, can you believe it, she was frightened she would lose him?'

‘What happened to her?' asked Mattie, rather reluctantly.

‘She died about twenty years ago. He killed her. No, not directly, he just wore her down until there was no fight left. She died of cancer, but it was his fault.'

‘Didn't you say anything? To her?'

‘Oh, yes. Over and over. Every time I saw the marks. And all the while Ernest was saying, “This is none of our business, Hilde. You have a family of your own, Hilde”. And finally I told Gertrude that it was too hard for me to see her like this, that it was killing me. Can you believe that? Killing
me!
' Hilda snorted with disgust at herself. ‘So I hardly saw her for the last ten years she was alive. My only sister.'

‘Oh.'

‘Yes. I kept telling myself that it was her choice to put up with it, and that if she ever left,
then
I could help her. By staying away, I thought I was putting pressure on her to leave, but really I was just isolating her. I was her
only
relative over here. Her only one. And all I did was make it even easier for him to treat her exactly how he wanted. I did not even know she was sick until it was too late.'

‘I'm so sorry, Hilda, I really am.' Mattie reached out and held the older woman's hand, and felt it tremble. But only for an instant, because Hilda clasped Mattie's hand back, tightly, and then wrapped her other one around it also, so there was no escape. And she looked across at Mattie with her black-button eyes shiny with emotion.

‘So do
not
lie to me. I will not have it. Lie to yourself if you want to, but not to me.'

Mattie stared back, unsure of what to say.

‘If you do not wish for my help, that is your choice. But I shall still come over, and I am not going to ignore what I see.'

‘Okay,' replied Mattie softly.

‘Good.' Hilda let go of her hand abruptly and Mattie pulled it back, rubbing it.

‘But you have to understand that it's much more complicated than –'

‘Of course it is.' Hilda shook her head derisively. ‘It always is.'

‘And there's the children . . .'

‘Does he hit them too?'

‘Of course not!' replied Mattie, horrified at the thought.

‘Just you, yes? Well, that's okay then.'

Mattie looked away from the sarcasm and into her coffee mug, as if searching for answers. Then she picked it up and took a sip, buying time instead. She had never been in this situation and didn't know how to react. What went on between Jake and her had always remained strictly that, between them, and even the discussion she'd had with Max and Courtney on Monday morning had been further than she'd ever strayed before. This, now, was totally uncharted territory.

Hilda drank her coffee, watching Mattie carefully as if waiting for her cue on how to proceed. But Mattie had no cues to give, no ideas. The silence started to grow uncomfortable, and tense, and Mattie decided that the best thing she could do was to ask Hilda to leave. Now, before it went even further. But as she tried to find the right words to accomplish this without sounding too dismissive, the doorbell rang, a shrill buzz that broke the silence and widened the eyes of both of them. A moment later, it rang again, even more insistently, and Mattie got up to answer it.

‘Excuse me,' she said to Hilda, in a more or less even tone. She left the kitchen and walked steadily towards the front door, on the way adjusting the scarf so that it covered her whole neck.
Please don't let it be Jake. Please don't let it be Jake
. And it wasn't. It was Hannah.

‘Jesus, what
are
you wearing?' Hannah looked her up and down, pausing at the silky, Aztec-patterned scarf. She herself was dressed very smartly, in heels, black slacks and a frothy paisley shirt. Her hair
was done in its customary plait, hanging neatly down the centre of her back.

‘I'm not going anywhere,' said Mattie, defensively. ‘So it doesn't matter, does it?'

‘I suppose not,' replied Hannah doubtfully. ‘Got time for a cuppa?'

‘No, not really –'

‘Of course she has.' Hilda suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway, smiling welcomingly. ‘We were just about to put on the kettle again, yes?'

Hannah looked at her sister huffily. ‘Well if you'd rather I didn't stay . . .'

‘No, no. Of course not. Come in.' Mattie stood back and then closed the door behind Hannah. She felt like screaming. Nothing was going right. Nothing. She followed Hannah into the kitchen where she washed her hands and put the kettle on while Hannah sat down, looking rather ill-at-ease. Mattie collected the empty mugs from the table and rinsed them. Then she set up the plunger again and, when the kettle had boiled, filled it.

‘I only dropped around to give you the money,' said Hannah, watching her. ‘Mum's and mine. From your party. I didn't know when it was due.'

‘Thanks,' said Mattie shortly. ‘Just pop it on the table.'

Hannah took an envelope out of her bag and placed it carefully on the table. She looked at Mattie again and then across at Hilda, who hadn't said a word since inviting Hannah to stay.

‘There we go.' Mattie put a mug of coffee in front of Hilda and Hannah and sat down next to Hannah with her own.

‘Remember I don't drink coffee?' Hannah stared into her mug disapprovingly and then looked across at her sister. She frowned. ‘What's going on? Did I interrupt something?'

‘Of course not,' said Mattie.

‘Yes,' said Hilda.

‘Hilda!' Mattie looked at her, absolutely aghast.
‘No
!'

‘Yes,' said Hilda again, staring straight at Mattie. ‘I am going to do you a huge favour here. And you will probably hate me for it, but I know it is the right thing.'

‘Don't you
dare
!' Mattie got up again, pushing her chair back roughly, and pointed a shaking finger at Hilda. ‘Don't you bloody dare!'

‘I
have
to. Can you not see that?'

Mattie changed tack abruptly. Desperately ‘Please?
Please
don't. I'm begging you.'

‘What on earth is going on?' Hannah, who had been looking from one to the other, now stared at Hilda in confusion. ‘Tell me what's going on!'

‘Did you know your brother-in-law hits your sister?' asked Hilda conversationally, much like she would have asked, ‘Did you know your brother-in-law plays golf?'

‘What?'

‘He hits your sister. Regularly, I think.'

‘He does not.' Hannah looked at Mattie. ‘What's she talking about?'

‘So you did not know.' Hilda nodded to herself. ‘I thought not.'

‘Mattie?' Hannah kept her gaze on her sister. ‘What's going on?'

Mattie, who was still standing, opened her mouth but her throat was frozen and no words came out. They were trapped.

‘He hit her Sunday night. And choked her.'

‘You're mad,' said Hannah flatly, staring now at Hilda.

‘Am I? Look at her neck. Go on, have a look under the scarf.'

Mattie shot a hand to her neck to hold the scarf in place and Hannah, seeing this, started to look doubtful for the first time. As if there might have been some truth in what she was hearing. She reached out a tentative hand, and Mattie drew back.

‘Mattie, let me see,' said Hannah, her confusion making her cross.

‘No.' Mattie shook her head.

Hannah stared at her for a moment and then patted the chair beside her and spoke as she used to years ago, when Mattie was small. ‘Come on, sit down next to me. Let me see. Come on now.'

Part of Mattie wanted to do exactly that, to sit down next to her older sister and show her the bruises. And tell her everything so that she could bask in the sympathy and the advice and the knowledge that she was not alone. But that part was no match for the other, honed over the years, that refused to share this facet of her life. It was not just her
loyalty to Jake and their marriage, and a disinclination to listen to him being criticised, but her pride, which could not bear to let her admit the extent of the problem. And the length of time it had been happening. So instead of moving towards Hannah, she moved away to stand behind the chair and glare at them both.

‘Come along, Mattie,' said Hilda, but without any exasperation. ‘This is for your own good.'

‘How dare you presume to know what's for my own good?' asked Mattie tightly. ‘Who are you to sit in judgement on me?'

‘But I am not sitting on –'

‘Oh yes you are. With your assumption that
you
know what's best.'

‘Mattie, can you just tell me if it's the truth?' pleaded Hannah.

‘No,' said Mattie, shaking her head to emphasise her refusal. ‘Because it's none of your business.'

‘I'm your sister!'

‘So what? Do I interfere in your life?'

‘But this is different!' Hannah stood up too, as if her height might give her an advantage. ‘I'm your older sister! If something's wrong between you and Jake, then it
is
my business!'

‘This is
your
fault.' Mattie turned to Hilda and stared at her narrowly. ‘Who asked you to interfere anyway?'

BOOK: Broken
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