days. There were spots on the back of his neck and every few seconds he sniffed conspicuously.
At the next stop I got off the bus. I thought he was going to follow me, but instead he stayed on. I stood at the bus stop in the rain and watched the bus move on, saw him through the window, those eyes, still staring.
Friday 19 March 2004
I stopped at the post office in town on the way home and picked up some passport forms. I browsed around in some stores while I was there, looking at clothes, but not bothering to try anything on. I just didn’t feel like going home, not yet. Lee was working today, I hadn’t had a text or a phone call since last night.
When I opened the front door I had that same immediate sense that something wasn’t right. It wasn’t a draft, or a smell, or anything tangible. The driveway just had my car on it, and there was no sign of Lee’s car or any other car for that matter. I just knew that someone had been in the house while I’d been out.
I stood there on the mat for a moment, the door still open behind me, wondering if I should go inside or if I should just get in my car and drive away again. The hallway was empty, I could see all the way down to the kitchen at the back—everything was as I had left it.
This is stupid, I told myself. Nobody’s been in here, it’s just your fertile imagination and that bastard burglar.
I put my keys and my bag down in the kitchen and went through to the living room, and stopped dead. Lee was sitting on the sofa, watching television with the sound muted.
I gasped with shock. “Jesus, you scared the life out of me!”
He stood up then and came toward me. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“In town,” I said. “I went to the post office. Don’t talk to me like that, anyway, what’s it matter where I’ve been?”
“You went to the post office for two fucking hours?”
He was standing inches away from me. I could feel the heat of his body, like the force of his anger. His hands were hanging relaxed by his sides, his voice was even.
Nevertheless, I was afraid.
“If you’re going to speak to me like that I’m going out again,” I said, and turned my back on him.
I felt his fingers circle my upper arm and he pulled me around with such force that my feet left the floor. “Do not walk away from me,” he said into my face, his breath hot on my cheek.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered.
He let me go and I stumbled against the doorway. The instant he moved away from me I ran, bolted for the front door, never mind that my keys were in the kitchen—I had to get out, I had to run.
I never made it. He was at the front door before me and before I had any idea what was happening his fist made contact with the side of my face, the corner of my eye.
I was on the floor, by the stairs. He was standing over me, looking down. I was so shocked I couldn’t catch my breath, sobbing and touching my cheek to see if I was bleeding. Then he crouched next to me and I shrank back, thinking he was going to hit me again.
“Catherine,” he said, his voice low, shockingly calm. “Don’t make me do that again, okay? Just come home on time, or let me know where you’re going. It’s simple. It’s for your own safety. There are some really dangerous people out there. I’m the only one who’s looking out for you, you know that, don’t you? So make it easy for yourself and do as you’re told.”
It felt like a turning point. It was as though the denial about my relationship with Lee had come to an end, I knew what he was capable of, what he could do, and what he expected of me. It was as though a door had been slammed in the face of the old, naïve, carefree Catherine. What was left was me: the one who was afraid all the time, the one who looked behind to check who was following, the one who knew that, whatever the future held, it could not possibly be good.
Hours later, when I was finally brave enough to look in the mirror, there was scarcely a mark