Page 5 of Forever Mr Black

“Thanks,” I say quietly.

I take the jumper from his outstretched hand and slip it on, wishing it were his arms wrapping around me instead. The cashmere is soft and warm from his body, and it smells of him. I ache.

Art resumes his hunched-forward position on the bench, and I feel him retreating. I need to start talking.

“You’re right; I haven’t told you about everything that happened between Theo and me.” I sit back on the bench and fold my arms. “He convinced me that the way he behaved—controlling what I wore, who I saw, not letting me go anywhere without him—was all about love. That he did those things because he cared about me. At first, if I had a go back at him, he’d sulk and blank me for days, make me feel as if I were the problem. In the end, he wore me down, I suppose. Life was easier if I went along with what he wanted. When Lucy and Mum tried to tell me how he treated me wasn’t right, I defended him, thinking they were wrong because they didn’t know him like I did. I truly believed that he loved me, and that was just his way of showing it. I couldn’t see things for how they really were, how he really was … until the end.” I stop and take in a deep breath to steady myself.

Art frowns. For the first time since I arrived, he looks at me, and I can see him trying to mentally piece things together.

“You told me he made you black out the one time, and then you left. What else did he do?”

Now, it’s my turn to look away.

“He started drinking heavily the last six months we were together. The first time … that night he came home really drunk from work, I was in bed.” I pause to give myself a few seconds. “He pestered me for sex. When I told him no and I tried to fight back, he got aggressive. I couldn’t stop him.” My voice is as cold as the night air. I’ve no room for softness; otherwise, I’ll fall apart.

“I confronted him the next morning, but he said I must have dreamt it because he wouldn’t do something like that to me. Because he loved me. At first, I was in shock and then denial. I told myself he’d been drunk, so he hadn’t known what he was doing, as if that made it any better. At the time, it seemed easier than to face up to the fact that I loved someone who was capable of doing that to me.” I look at the bed of forget-me-nots beside my feet, which appear even bluer in the fading light.

“But it didn’t stop there. It happened the next time he came home drunk and the next. I stopped going to bed to see if that would make him stop, but I was more of a challenge when I was fully clothed. He got rougher and rougher. When he made me black out, it was the final straw. I waited for him to go to work, packed up my clothes, and left.”

Art sinks forward and rakes his fingers through his hair. My throat aches with pent-up emotion, and tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I can’t look at him. If I do, I’ll burst into tears. I haven’t cried about Theo in a long time, and I’m not about to start now.

It feels like forever before Art speaks, and when he does, his haunted voice threatens to undo me.

“The bastard raped you.” He drags a hand down his face in shock. “Fucking hell. No wonder your parents—”

“They don’t know,” I cut him off. “No one does.”

“No one?”

“No one.”

“You’ve carried this all by yourself, all this time?”

“You’re not the only one who wants to keep their past in the past.”

“Sophie …” He trails off, his voice gentle. I can’t take it.

I bite the inside of my mouth to stop the swell of emotion in my chest from overtaking me. I can feel his eyes on me, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. I know his gaze will be full of pity, and I couldn’t bear it. Not from him.

“I’m sorry for not telling you. I should have by now. I know I’m the world’s biggest bloody hypocrite after having a go at you for not telling me stuff about your past. I was wrong. I wanted to tell you, but …” I bite my lip as a traitorous solitary tear slides down my cheek. My hard-fought composure cracks along with my voice as I admit my greatest fear, “I was scared … I was scared you’d think less of me.”

“No, no, no, no …” Art murmurs, shaking his head. He turns his body to mine and slides an arm around my back and the other beneath my knees, scooping me onto his lap and into a warm embrace.

I close my eyes and bury my face into the cotton of his T-shirt, cocooned in the safety of his arms. The relief that he knows tips the wave of emotion I’ve been holding at bay and takes me by surprise. Art rests his chin on my head and strokes my hair, holding me as heavy sobs rack through my body. He clutches me tightly to his chest, as if he dare not let me go. I don’t know how long we sit like that. Eventually, I stop crying and feel warm lips press against my forehead.

“I understand,” he whispers into my hair. “But I don’t think less of you. How could I? It’s not your fault this happened. Nothing in this world could ever make me think less of you, Sophie.”

I look at him through watery eyes. He cups my face and sweeps my tears away with his thumbs. Dark eyes search my face, but instead of pity, they’re filled with admiration. “To go through what you did and carry it all by yourself all this time … you’re so brave and strong.” His jaw tightens with regret. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I reacted like I did and took off. I didn’t know what to think when I first read the letter. I mean, it’s clear he’s still in love with you. I hated the thought of that, but now …" He shakes his head, his gaze hardening. “Now, I know what he put you through, andhe’s got the fucking nerve to ask you to meet him …” Red-hot anger flashes in his eyes like a warning flare. “That bastard’s going to pay for what he did.”

I panic. The days of me wanting Theo to get his comeuppance are long gone. I want to forget about him. I’ve spent the past three years trying hard not to think about him.

“I don’t want revenge; I don’t want anything to do with him. If we ignore him, he’ll go away. I probably won’t hear from him again.”

There’s no way I’m telling Art about Theo’s phone call to Mum. Not right now. It certainly wouldn’t stop him from wanting to punish Theo.

“I can’t let this go. Not after what he did to you …”

“No.” I entwine my fingers through his. I’ve heard of Art’s aggressive, reckless streak. I don’t want him to lose his head and do something stupid. “This isn’t about you. Theo’s from my past. I want to keep him there. I’ll ignore him, and he’ll get bored and disappear back beneath the rock he crawled out from.”

---