Page 60 of The World Outside My Window

‘Debbie? Did she say what she wanted?’

‘No, I just told her you were in the bath and we were about to have dinner and that she should call back tomorrow.’

‘Oh. Right.’

He frowned. ‘Was that the wrong thing to say?’

I pushed my peas round my plate. ‘I just – I would have liked to speak to her, that’s all. She’s so busy and she was out last night so I haven’t spoken to her for a couple of days.’

Jim chuckled. ‘Honestly, Lola, you rely on that woman too much. It’s not healthy.’

‘That woman? She’s my best friend!’ I could feel heat rising in my chest even though the last thing I wanted was to be fighting with Jim.

‘I know she is, but you know what I mean. She does an awful lot for you, and she’s got a family of her own. Besides, I’m home now.’

I could feel tears threatening, the telltale burning sensation at the back of my eyes, and I blinked them back furiously. Because Jim had hit a nerve. I was aware that I demanded a lot from Debbie, and that I should probably be giving her some space to be with Steve, Lily and James. But with Jim away so much, I needed her, it was as simple as that. I couldn’t understand why Jim didn’t get that. I was about to say as much when Jim spoke again.

‘Besides, I thought we might be busy after dinner,’ he said, sliding his hand across the table and cupping mine in his.

‘Busy?’

‘Yes. You know. In bed.’

‘Oh!’ I felt my face flame. ‘I – I—’ I stopped, unsure what to say. Since the attack Jim had been patient about the fact I hadn’t wanted to have sex with him. In fact at first I hadn’t wanted him anywhere near me, as if my body was in such shock that just the thought of my husband touching me repelled me. Slowly, I’d let him near me again, and we’d been close – but only to an extent. I still didn’t want him to touch me intimately, and I had to close my eyes every time he kissed me in case I saw the eyes of my attacker instead of Jim’s. But I knew I needed to get over it, that it wasn’t fair to make him wait forever.

‘Yes, of course,’ I said, trying for a smile. I leaned over and gave him a kiss, trying to lose myself in the familiarity of him. He responded hungrily, as though starved of affection, and pulled me onto his lap and ran his hand from waist to my breast, pushing my bra aside. I tensed, but he didn’t stop, and I made myself carry on, desperate to make him happy. After all, if I couldn’t even give him this, whatwashe getting from me? I let him push his tongue inside my mouth, then tried to relax as he ran his lips down my neck, onto my exposed breast. I tried to respond the way I always had, pulling his head even closer to heighten the sensation, but then he ran his free hand up between my legs and pushed my knickers aside and I leapt up, leaving him sitting there staring at me, completely confused.

‘I’m sorry, I—’ I stuttered, tugging my top down self-consciously.

‘I’m sorry, Lola, I thought you were ready. You seemed… you seemed like you were enjoying it.’

‘I was, I am, I…’ I was gabbling. I took a deep breath, desperate for air in my lungs. ‘I’m sorry. I really am. I just – I need a bit more time.’

He reached out for my hand and pulled me gently towards him so I was looking down at him. He kissed my hand tenderly. ‘It’s okay, really. I understand. I just wish thatbastardhadn’t hurt you, then none of this would be happening.’ He reached up and stroked my cheek. ‘I just want my Lola back.’

‘Me too,’ I said, choking back a sob.

* * *

In the end Jim extended his stay for an extra day. ‘I’ve told my boss my wife needs me,’ he announced on Sunday night, the night before he was due to leave again.

‘And doesn’t he mind?’

‘He hasn’t got much choice really,’ he replied.

But it was now Tuesday morning and all Jim staying longer had done was make it harder when he did leave. We’d had a lovely weekend, just the two of us, despite me not wanting to go anywhere. Jim had taken the phone off the hook so nobody could disturb us – I didn’t have the heart to tell him I wanted to speak to Debbie – and we ordered takeaways and watched films that Jim rented from Blockbuster every night. I knew he’d been hoping for some intimacy, but I wasn’t quite there yet. How long would he be willing to wait?

I spent the morning trying to clear the backlog of housework that had built up over the last few weeks, but every task felt like a mammoth effort. And after a weekend with Jim drinking nothing but wine, I was also desperate for some vodka to numb the terror that slowly clawed its way back in with every passing minute alone.

I went to the cupboard and pulled a bottle out. There was only an inch or so left in the bottom. I leaned down to find another bottle but there was nothing there. The rest of the cupboard was empty. Where was my vodka?

Feeling panic rising in my throat, I dropped to my hands and knees and scrabbled round in the cupboard, pulling out tins and bottles. But it wasn’t there.

Heart hammering, I opened another cupboard, and another, slamming them shut as I went. I was frantic now, the urge for a drink taking me over. I crept to the front window and peered out into the street, trying to decide if I was desperate enough to try and get to the corner shop. But when I pictured the walk there, along three busy streets, panic overwhelmed me and I had to sit down and take some deep breaths and calm myself down again.

There had to be another solution. I glanced at the clock. I couldn’t call Debbie because she was at work, and Mr O’Neill had only delivered a case of six bottles two days before Jim got home. What would he think if I rang for another one? Did I care?

I marched to the phone, deciding that ringing Mr O’Neill was my only course of action, the thought of a day without vodka too much to bear. But then a memory flashed into my mind of me moving bottles before Jim got home. I flew into the spare bedroom, and yanked open the wardrobe doors where, like some sort of mirage, there they were: my box of bottles, with four still remaining. Kneeling down, I grabbed one like a starving child handed a piece of bread, screwed the lid off and tipped it down my throat, ignoring the burn as it hit my windpipe and swirled into my stomach. I felt myself relax, my limbs becoming heavy, my mind softening. I took another deep swig and sank to the floor, lying down like a starfish, my back pressed into the carpet, my head swimming.

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