Page 1 of Easy Rumba

Prologue

Elise

Ican barely see through my swollen left eye. The bright purple bruising surrounding it, which I saw when looking in the mirror this morning, throbs a painful reminder of why I need to do this.

My right hand is broken and in a plaster cast, so I pick up the pen with my left. It won't be easy to sign the assortment of documents in front of me. I’m naturally right-handed, meaning my signature will be barely legible, but I don’t care. I need to, no, I have to sign these papers. I must safeguard my future and that of my nine-year-old daughter, who is currently sitting in reception with the secretary. We have to escape him. To flee to the other side of the country and go into hiding.

The words seem to merge as I look at them. My ribs ache from the bruising where he kicked me repeatedly. I’m a victim of domestic abuse at the hands of the man I love, no, loved—my husband, Simon, the man who’s known me in my most intimate moments. He took my trust and broke it, not just once but again and again. The last time being the most horrific.

“Miss Landry, is everything okay?” my lawyer asks.

Miss Landry, not Mrs. French. I never took Simon’s name. Maybe I knew this would happen all along. I made my name famous on the silver screen, and I was determined to keep it. I’m glad I did because it gives me comfort.

“Sorry, yes. Can you just run through the documentation again, please? My head’s a little fuzzy, and I want to make sure I’m doing the right thing.”

“Of course.” My lawyer, a man I’ve known and trusted since I first moved to Hollywood fifteen years ago, lifts up the first sheet on the table in front of him. “This one is the divorce application. You sign it, and I’ll put everything in motion. Mr. French has already said he won’t contest it as long as the other documents are signed.”

I nod my head to show I understand.

“And I’ll have full custody of Izzy?”

“Yes, your husband has even agreed to waive his visitation rights.”

I feel bad doing this to our daughter—she should be able to see her father, but she witnessed Simon’s last attack on me.

Izzy had been drinking her summer fruit juice on the white furry rug in the middle of our lounge. She knew she shouldn’t have been in there with it—Simon's rule, not mine. When the inevitable happened and she accidentally knocked over her juice, Simon started shouting at her, even though he’d been on a working lunch and decided to continue it with a glass of red wine in the lounge himself. Eventually he raised his hand to her, which was when I stepped in and took the blame. I informed him I’d allowed her to drink in the lounge.

After the third direct punch to my face, I fell to the floor and don’t remember much else. I was told it was Izzy who raised the alarm. That was three days ago, and she’s been subdued ever since. I knew this time I had to get away. It’s amazing what you can achieve in Hollywood if you have enough money. My lawyer has been working thirty-six hours straight on negotiations for me to get my daughter away from my husband.

I press the pen to the paper of the first document and slowly sign it with my left-hand, ensuring it’s at least partially legible.

“Done.” I exhale deeply.

The signed paper will free me from Simon in a time-honored, traditional Hollywood quickie divorce, but the next papers will detail the conditions I’ll need to observe.

“This one…” I’m handed another paper. “This one sets out the stipulations that will give you full custody of Izzy.” My lawyer points to the relevant lines. I don’t need him to, despite asking him to run through the paperwork again, I know the conditions by heart. “The first one states you’ll never disclose the true reason for your divorce. The papers will say it is due to irreconcilable differences, which neither of you contest. You’ve just grown apart. Mr. French wants more of a Hollywood lifestyle, and you want less. You’ll never do any interviews relating to the divorce. If your injuries come to light, it will be stated you were attacked during a failed burglary.”

I nod my head and initial next to the first point. I know I should go to the police and report what happened, but I want to protect Izzy from the intrusion such a course of action would entail. If this is what it takes, then so be it. I don’t trust Simon with her anymore.

“The second proviso is effective immediately. You and Izzy leave Hollywood and go into seclusion for at least a year. It doesn’t mean you can’t earn money through acting after the year is up, but you are agreeing to never work in Hollywood again.”

This was the harder of the two points to accept. I love my job. I’m known for my emotional roles in movies and was even Oscar nominated last year. It was an honor Simon, who’s more of an action hero star, wasn’t happy about. I was glad in the end I didn’t win as I don’t think he’d have coped. It wouldn’t have mattered he’s received critical acclaim and is the higher paid of the two of us. If I’d received an Oscar, it would have been too much for him to handle.

I look over the wording again. The agreement doesn’t prevent me from acting ever again, only for a year except in Hollywood. There are other companies around the world I can work with. The TV industry in England is certainly flourishing. Izzy and I could travel there eventually. British soaps are sold all over the world. Maybe I could get a role in one of them as an American landlady behind the bar of one of the famous public houses. Besides, it will be good to have a year off work. I only took a few months off after Izzy was born because Simon insisted we work on a movie together.

Without further hesitation, I sign the final few relevant sections on the paper and hand all the documents back to my lawyer.

“Is that everything?”

“Yes.” He smiles ruefully at me. “I’ll get these filed and be in touch. Do I have your forwarding address?”

“I gave it to your secretary when I came in.”

“Good.”

Silence falls between us before he places all the papers back down on the table and comes over to me. He embraces me warmly, and despite my initial panic at the contact, I welcome his comfort.

“Please take care of yourself, Elise, and if you need me for anything, just ask.”

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