poppy
Now
Serena looks like she is going to punch me. That she’s going to raise her fist and smack me several times right in the kisser.
I totally get why. It wasn’t what she was expecting to hear. And it’s probably pushing all of her buttons. But I have to understand why, and she is the only person who can help me with that. And, you know, possibly, it will help her, too.
‘Look, you have to help me,’ I say quickly. I stand in front of her, my hands open so she can see I’m being as honest and clear as I can be. ‘I just want to talk to her, to understand. Logan loved her so much. If you’d read his diary, listened to the way he talked about her before I knew who she was, he adored her. She was his whole world and she took advantage of that. She abused that love. I just want to find out why.’
I see Serena’s jaw clamp down, a clear indication of how much she is grinding her teeth together. As well as punching me, she wants to shout at me. She wants to use all those nasty words none of us knows we know until moments like these arrive and suddenly they’re unleashed into the world.
‘Look, this is as much for you as it is for me. This is the first time we’ll get to understand why they do it. We both loved Marcus. We both gave him everything he wanted and more. I adored him. More than life itself sometimes, and I just want to understand why that wasn’t enough. Was it me? Was it Logan? Or was it something in them – in Marcus, in your daughter – that made them incapable of accepting that love and not using it against those who adored them? I’ve never had the chance to talk to an abuser before. Not like this. Not when I can see both sides of the story.’ I’m frantic here. ‘I mean, was he annoying? Too clingy? Did she just think he was too pathetic and couldn’t help treating him like that to see how far she could push him? I just want to talk to her. Calmly. I won’t go there to upset her, I just want to understand.’ Because if I understand her, then maybe I’ll understand Marcus. And what it was about me that kept me there.
I stop and wait for Serena to speak. I know she’s going to tell me to fuck off. But I needed to try. I needed to keep asking until she understood why I needed to do this.
‘If you go anywhere near my daughter, I will kill you,’ she says quite simply.
When she walks away, back towards her house, I know without any shred of doubt that she means it.
verity
Now
This is one of those moments.
Mum and Dad used to tell me: ‘Only let it be once.’
I’ve never had a reason to use that advice. Not ever. Not really. Even when I was fighting off Logan I knew I wouldn’t be fighting him again.
This is one of those moments that our folks used to warn Con and me about: if someone hits you first, hit them straight back and then go and tell the teacher. Con never would, not even when there was a little shit who was messing with him and his hair. I never did because I never had to. No one messed with me. No one paid me much mind. Until now.
I have been here twelve days. Twelve days, and today seems to be the day when something is going to happen. I could taste it in the air of my cell, even before I opened my eyes. I could feel it in the attitudes of the others, the sly looks over breakfast, in the corridor, in the shower block, in the daily leg stretch. Something was going to happen and it was going to happen to me, today.
Right now.
She’s bigger than me, of course. Better connected. Her hair should be a mass of grease, her skin should be an uneven mess of pimples and scars, her body should be doughy and lumpen. That’s what the stereotypes demand, that’s what I’ve been taught to fear in here. But this one is slick. She is pretty, her skin cleansed and toned and moisturised to the point where she glows. Her blonde hair is shiny and wavy and well cared for. I know how she does it – other people’s rations. She accepts all sorts of payments in kind for all sorts of things. She is taller than me, but we’re about the same build and she obviously has the home-field advantage – I don’t know who will jump in to help her if I somehow get the upper hand.
She is used to doing this, that’s clear. I don’t know if she usually waits till the twelfth day, but she is well versed in this. The menace I felt earlier was probably ignited by her; the promise of it is about to be fulfilled.
We are on the lower floor, outside the cells, by the bigger area where a lot of people play cards. I am bracketed by a large semi-circle of other inmates, as is she. I don’t know who I can trust, who won’t jump me first, so I am keeping as close an eye as possible on who is around me.
‘You all right, Vee-Vee?’ she asks.
I nod, smile, but don’t speak.
‘Not too, erm, basic for you?’
I shake my head and smile.
She is edging nearer and I have folded my arms across my chest to protect myself.
‘Aww, I thoug—’
She doesn’t finish her word let alone sentence because I have laid her out. I folded my arms to give me more room to hide the sudden movement of my hand curling into a fist before I move it in a smooth, upper-cut arc.
She has a glass jaw and is knocked clean off her feet. ‘Let it only be once’ only really applies when you have the luxury of walking away and staying away from the person who hit you first. In this situation, I couldn’t wait – I had to hit first to make sure I wasn’t the one laid out on the floor. And I had to hope her friends and supporters wouldn’t jump me.
The collective gasp of shock strengthens my spine. I’m hoping this buys me some kind of protection or, at the very least, enough ‘cred’ to make people think twice before they approach me. I plaster a certain expression on my face – not a hard-case look, that’s just inviting all kinds of trouble from people who want to knock it off. No, I have a small smile teasing at my lips, a controlled wildness to my eyes. I want people to think I might possibly be a bit unstable so they should be wary of me.
I want people to leave me the hell alone so I can work out how to get Logan to tell the truth.
‘Excuse me,’ I say and walk past my would-be assailant, who is still spread out on the floor, and go towards the stairs for my cell on the next floor up.
Hopefully, hopefully, that is all the once that I need.
poppy
Now
‘I’m sorry,’ I say to Alain when he arrives home with Betina.
I’ve cleaned the flat, I’ve got dinner on the table.
‘Wash hands, stuff in your room,’ Alain tells Betina, who goes running off to do as she’s told.
My sort-of ex comes into the kitchen, staring openly and approvingly at the feast I have prepared. All their favourites: lasagne, garlic bread, green salad, cupcakes for afterwards.
‘I’m sorry I’ve checked out of life, our family. I’m sorry for not being here and leaving everything to you. And thank you for looking after Betina. For not turfing me out; for being here when I haven’t been.’
Alain stands and listens to me talking, apologising, trying to reintegrate myself back into this life. I’ve abandoned them, tried to escape from my responsibilities because I couldn’t cope. Not with any of it. I thought I’d feel better once Logan was awake, but I don’t, not really. That’s why I went to see Serena. I thought . . . I hoped being allowed to speak to Verity would give me some insight into why I feel so terrible. It would allow me to be all right with still loving Marcus. Obviously Serena won’t help me to talk to her daughter and I am left here, floating around in this nebulous sea of ignorance.