The Rose Petal Beach (51 page)

I stared into her eyes and she into mine. No, I wouldn’t do that.

‘Let’s, for argument’s sake, go along with this ridiculous idea that I had an …
“affair”
with him. Why are you willing to accept something so hurtful and deeply disrespectful? Why would you stay with him? Especially when it’s someone you know. You’re teaching your daughters damaging things about relationships.’

‘Don’t talk about my daughters, they’re nothing to you.’

‘They’re everything, actually,’ she replied. ‘They’re the reason I … He did it, Tami, and I’m sorry you can’t see that. But I retracted my statement because I knew it would take the hardest toll on Anansy and Cora. They don’t deserve to have their lives ruined by everyone knowing their father is a rapist, but hey, should I have bothered if they’re being forced to live within what must be a hideous atmosphere?’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Actually, I do. I completely know what I’m talking about. Did you grow up in a family where your parents showed each other they loved and respected each other or did you grow up with parents who slept in separate rooms, hardly spoke to each other, made nasty little comments about each other, would glare at each other, and would remind you every day with their relationship that when one person in the marriage is selfish and self-serving and
entitled, everyone has to kow-tow to them because that’s easier than upsetting the status quo?’

Mirabelle knew which type of home I grew up in because I trusted her with that. I opened up to her like I hadn’t done in many, many years and told her the truth about what growing up was like. I told her about my father who could be lovely to us but would fly into uncontrollable rages; I explained about my mother who could be so caring and nurturing but would just as quickly become cold and unavailable. I opened up to her with things I hadn’t even told Scott because Scott’s home life trumped all others; no one’s home life could be worse than the Challey home life.

Mirabelle knew this, she had understood this and had constantly told me that it wasn’t my fault. It was things like that that made me trust her, and which made her betrayal so total.

‘Do you remember how you swore you’d never put your children through what you went through?’ she said to me. ‘Do you remember how you promised yourself that you’d teach your girls that being a single parent is better than being a marginalised, unhappily married one?’

‘Please stop talking.’

‘OK, I will. But you stop talking, too. And we can sit here, and pretend for a few minutes that none of this has happened, that you don’t think me capable of betraying your trust, and I can pretend I don’t mind you not believing I was almost raped. Let’s sit here and be two friends who can sit in silence and not mind.’

We sat in that near silence, both of us staring at the wall opposite.

‘Do you remember that time that woman asked us if we were sisters?’ I asked her. ‘And you told her we were actually lovers and she nearly fainted in shock?’

She gave a small giggle, one of those ones that would always set me off and we would end up incapacitated with laughter. ‘Why did you think about that?’

‘At the time, it seemed funny, now it’s just an example of how easily you can lie and sound plausible.’

Her silence was shocked. It’s hard to explain but she was clearly hurt by what I said, and that should have given me a little satisfaction but it didn’t – I felt wretched.

‘You know, I did sort of lie to you about something,’ she admits. ‘If you think of me not having the chance to tell you everything as lying.’

My head swung to look at her.

‘He stopped,’ she continues. ‘He’d ripped my clothes, and was fumbling with …’ She paused and took a couple of deep, steadying breaths. ‘It wasn’t only the phone ringing that helped me get away, he stopped himself. It was as if something snapped back in place and he came back to himself. His eyes, all the while he’d been … They’d been glazed over and vacant. Then he was there again. And he looked … I don’t know, shocked with himself. Then the phone rang. He took his eyes off me for a second and I kicked him and ran.’

‘He stopped?’ I said. ‘Did you tell that to the police?’

‘Yes, of course I did. But it didn’t negate what he did to me. He still hurt me, terrified me, he still penetrated me with his fingers – which is sexual assault. And which is why the police arrested him.’

I covered my mouth with my hands as bile mixed with expensive wine came rushing up my throat. I knew she was telling the truth. I just knew. And my whole reality started to cave in. He’d done it.

That was the terrible thing that happened, that was probably why my memory abandoned me, I didn’t want to face that. I didn’t want it to be true, so I turned my thoughts away from it, I escaped back into the drunk haze I was in and tried not to leave.

‘You believe me now, don’t you?’ she said because Mirabelle was like that. She could see into my soul sometimes. It often felt she knew me better than I knew myself, and that she had known me
all my life. That’s why I had been drawn to her, I think. For how she made me feel.

I concentrated on breathing through my nose, getting oxygen in so I wouldn’t throw up.

‘I’m so sorry for what he did to you,’ I said when I could get myself under control. ‘And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you straight away.’

Even as I was speaking, my mind was screaming about the text messages. They must have been having an affair, I realised. And then he got rough, he did that to her and she ended it. Or maybe she finished it because she felt so guilty, her text messages did say she felt guilty, and he didn’t like it. Tried to get her back with seduction but things got out of hand, he got too rough and almost ended up … He didn’t finish it, she did. He still did it, but then so did she. She still had an affair with him.

‘I have to go,’ I said, wondering how I was going to get up when I felt like throwing up, plus my legs were made of sponge and my arms were made of jelly.

She smiled sadly and shook her head. ‘You still think I slept with him, don’t you?’ she said. ‘Even though you believe he did what he did, you still think we were having an affair.’

‘I saw the messages.’

‘There were no—’ She broke off from what she was about to snap at me and was suddenly on her feet and then dragging me upright. ‘You know, Tami, there were all these things I wanted to tell you about myself that I haven’t. I’ve felt so guilty keeping them from you. But now … I’m glad I didn’t tell you. And you’re right, you have to go.’

I held onto the wall for support and watched her through the haze that was descending.

‘Go,’ she said, sternly. ‘Nothing I say is going to change your mind, so go.’

‘Why won’t you explain about the messages? If you weren’t sleeping with him, then why won’t you tell me about the messages? I know you wrote them. If not to him, then who?’

She glared at me. ‘Goodbye, Tami,’ she said, then turned and swept up the stairs in that imperial manner she had. ‘Shut the door on the way out.’

I wanted to go up after her. I wanted to get her to explain about the messages because they were the only thing that didn’t make sense in her version of events. And they were the only things that made sense in his version of events. Why wouldn’t she explain?

But then a wave of drunken tiredness crashed over me and I couldn’t stop myself from swaying, nearly toppling over in the process. I needed to leave. I could talk to her another time.

I hadn’t even thought about how I was going to deal with Scott now I knew that he had done it. Like I said, I think I shut that horror away so as not to have a complete breakdown.

I don’t remember how long I was there. I do remember tripping over the doorstep on the way out and instead of putting my hands out, I put them up to my face so I scraped the back of my hands and bruised my forearms. I cried with the pain and the anger and the hurt of everything, I remember that, but I picked myself up. After that, I don’t remember much at all. I don’t remember how I got home. The next thing I do recall is waking up in bed fully clothed and barefoot, like I said. I had a sense that I had seen Mirabelle the night before, but I couldn’t remember it clearly. And I had a newfound revulsion for Scott. Even though we were waiting for counselling that he had never actually arranged, I could barely stand to be near him but I didn’t know why.

And that’s it. That’s what happened that night. I’ve only just remembered so many of the details. As soon as I recalled almost everything, I knew I had to come in and tell you.

I can’t control what happens next, if you want to formally arrest me then that’s what’s going to happen.

If you want to ask me any questions, feel free. I’m sure that’s what you were always going to do but I sort of think I should make it clear that I’ll answer anything.

‘I can’t believe you’ve done this to see me,’ he says after shutting the door to the conference room he’s hustled me into.

He once screwed me in here. I look around the room, which overlooks the huge courtyard one level down where they used to have summer drinks. The glass is tinted and mirrored so you can’t see in, but you can see out. I remember watching our reflection as he kissed my neck, ran his hands up and down my body and then gently guided me forwards over the long, oval table that has microphones coming out of the seat places.
‘I’m going to enjoy meetings in here all the more, now,’
he’d said as he moved quickly inside me, the fear of getting caught by one of the security guards adding to the excitement of doing something so forbidden.

‘I had to do this so you would see me,’ I say to him. We couldn’t go into his office today because it is glass-walled and everyone can see in. People will talk if they see him lower the blinds. And I’m guessing it would get back to Tami that I was here.

He looks so different from the last time I saw him. Less polished, more like … more like the man I met in the street that day he was moving into our road. This is what Scott looked when Tami said her vows. He radiates decency, kindness, tenderness. He would look after you and listen to you, and be there when you needed him. He dressed in a smart but understated way, he didn’t bother making sure his hair was perfect before he left the house, it just had to be neat. I sort of prefer the one I fell in love with. I liked this one, don’t misunderstand, but the other one, he had more presence, more arrogance the world had
to notice – no one walked past the Scott Challey who fell in love with me and didn’t need to look again. He drew attention to himself with an impressive ease. And, most importantly, the new Scott Challey was a bit of a bastard and I liked that in a man. I craved men with an edge.

The man in front of me, although lacking the stance and presence of the real Scott Challey, has a face that is set with anger, he has eyes that are staring through me. He doesn’t want to be here with me. It might surprise him to learn I don’t want to be here, either. But he wouldn’t reply to my texts, he wouldn’t answer the phone. He won’t talk to me so I’ve had to make him.

‘What do you want, Beatrix?’

‘That’s how it is now, is it? It’s all “Beatrix” and “what do you want?”?’ I come closer to him, reach out to put a hand on his chest. I want to connect myself with him, he is a whole person, someone who is breathing and living, who hasn’t had to have a part of themselves removed so they’ve got a chance at life. Physically, I’ve known the whole of him, I’ve kissed almost every inch of him, so I want my body to remember what it feels like to be with someone whole who I was once whole with. I want to touch him in a way I haven’t been able to with anyone else. Just touch him to see if I can remember what it feels like to be complete again. ‘You used to call me Bea in that low growl, you used to look at me like I was the most beautiful woman who ever lived. Remember?’ He steps backwards, away from me, not allowing contact. Then takes a few more steps away to severely mark the gap between us.

‘What do you want?’ he asks again.

I turn my fingers into the palm of my hand, shock pumping through my body. I only wanted to touch him. I didn’t want anything else. I couldn’t do anything else even if I wanted to. But touching, making contact with another human, feeling their life under the skin of your palm, those are the things you need.
I
need.

Maybe he doesn’t understand, maybe he doesn’t know.

‘Did Tami tell you that I’ve—’

‘Yes, yes she did. And I’m still shocked, and pretty impressed, that you actually moved into our house so she could look after you. After everything we put her through.’

‘It wasn’t like that,’ I say to him. I want to put my hand over my scar, to protect myself, that damaged part of myself, from this. This is not how I expected it to be. None of this is how I expected it to be.

He closes his eyes, rubs across them with his forefinger and thumb. Just like Tami did the other night. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘I know it wasn’t like that. It must have been awful for you. And terrifying. I hope you’re doing OK now and that you’ll make a full recovery. And, yes, I’m glad you had someone who could be there for you. But it shouldn’t have been Tami. She shouldn’t have had to look after you after the terrible thing I did to her and you helped me to do.’

‘You can’t help who you fall in love with,’ I say to him. ‘We didn’t set out to hurt her, we just fell—’

‘No,’ he cuts in. He looks anxious and pained as if he regrets already what he hasn’t yet said. ‘No, Beatrix, we didn’t fall in love. It wasn’t like that. I liked you, I like you, but no, nothing more.’

‘I don’t believe that. You don’t behave with someone how you did with me if you’re not in love with them. Remember, I was there. I know you loved me and you said so.’

His sigh is long and laborious, designed to delay what he says next. ‘Beatrix, I’m a selfish man. I’m going to therapy and I have had to admit that I am a selfish person. I am selfish, entitled and a disgrace as a human being. I am struggling to deal with all these truths. But be honest with yourself. When you look back over what went on between us, if I was as truly in love with you as I claimed to be, why did I never leave my wife? I am selfish, my needs and wants always come first, why wouldn’t I just walk out to be with someone who allegedly made me happy?’