Page 71 of The Day Shelley Woodhouse Woke Up
‘This was a couple of years ago now. But, it wasn’t only that. He’d been… abusing me… for a long time.’
He stares at me, waiting for me to go on. So after a deep breath, I do.
‘He didn’t do it at first. I knew he had a temper, but he kept it under control until things were serious between us. And then the first time he was so apologetic and said it would never happen again and begged me to give him another chance. He used to mess around with my mind, too, make me think I didn’t remember things correctly. I’m such a cliché, aren’t I?’
Matt squeezes my fingers. ‘Shelley, this is your story. It doesn’t matter how many other people have been through something similar.’
‘I put up with it. I stayed. And then I nearly died, and I swore I’d never go back to him, and now he’s in prison.’
‘Where he belongs.’ His voice is a bit choked. ‘I’m so sorry, Shelley, that you’ve been through that.’
I shrug, bite my lip hard to stop tears from coming. ‘It’s a pattern,’ I say, determined to get it all out now. ‘My mum was married to a man who abused her too.’ I pause to gather myself, take another sip of my drink. ‘Mick. He was violent with both of us. It’s why I hardly have a relationship with my mum. I couldn’t forgive her for not getting us out of that situation. But now that I’ve lived with it myself, I understand a bit more how hard getting out actually is. And the reason I’m telling you all of this is because I’m scared. I’m scared of it happening again. And that’s why I hold back sometimes, why I want to take things slowly. I don’t want to ever be in a situation like that again.’
The end of this speech comes out in a rush and I exhale, exhausted, and look to Matt for his reaction.
‘Is she still with him?’ he asks.
‘Yes.’
‘My mum…’ he says, and I’m confused, because this isn’t what I’d expected him to say. I silently urge him to go on.
‘My parents, they had this explosive marriage. Lots of shouting and throwing things. Sometimes my dad hit her. We left when I was six, so I don’t remember too much. Mum says she knew that if she didn’t get me and my brother and sister out, I would grow up thinking that was normal.’
We look at one another, both in pain.
‘Thank you for telling me,’ Matt says. ‘For trusting me with it. I’ll be patient. And if you ever need me to be more patient, just let me know. It’s been my biggest fear, that I would hurt someone else in that way. But I wouldn’t, Shelley. I couldn’t.’
I believe him, and I hope he knows that. It doesn’t mean I can forget about my past, my experiences, and leap into a serious relationship head first. I’ll always have this fear, this trepidation. It’s something he’ll have to adjust to, if we carry on with this.
‘What about your mum now?’ I ask.
‘She’s remarried. She met my stepdad a few years after we left. I don’t see my dad. She’s really happy, Shelley. This is going to sound like such a cliché, but there’s a life beyond it. I’d love you to meet her one day, to see that.’
This feels big. A suggestion of meeting parents. My mouth feels dry and I go to sip my drink but find it is empty.
‘One more?’ I ask.
While I wait at the bar, I list good men I know. It’s a thing I do, to remind myself that they exist. That what happened to me won’t necessarily always happen. I think of Liam, of Derek, of Matt. I am sure that Matt belongs on my list.
We have another drink and talk about less heavy stuff. Something he’s reading, something I’ve seen on TV. I like hearing what he thinks about things, especially things I’ve read or seen or heard about myself, because his take is always slightly different and usually fascinating. It’s like getting a glimpse of the world from a different angle. When we walk back to the Pheasant, we are hand in hand, our coat hoods up because there’s a hint of rain in the air.
‘Do you want to stay?’ I ask.
‘I’d better not. Early start.’
I am disappointed, and when he pushes me gently against the side door and kisses me, I’m ready to plead with him to come inside. But then he pulls away, looks at me seriously with his eyes like pools. ‘I didn’t know, about your husband. I feel like now I do, I’ll understand you better. Thank you for telling me. I know it can’t have been easy.’
I put my head down and Matt lifts it again with one finger under my chin. ‘I love you,’ I say. I hadn’t planned to say it, and I cover my mouth as if I can cram the words back in. But Matt is smiling, his whole expression full of joy, and I am glad I said it, because it’s true.
37
NOW
Dee’s chatting away on the drive back from the hospital, and I’m looking out of the window because it’s the first time I’ve been out of the hospital in days and I’m working out how much is familiar. We go through the town centre, past the church, and then I see a road on the left and I expect her to indicate but she doesn’t.
‘Can we go left here?’ I ask, a note of panic audible in my voice.
Dee shrugs and flicks her indicator on, swings into the turn at the last minute. ‘Where now? We’re going the wrong way for my place.’
