I’m not upset, just … I dunno … I’ve never heard anyone come out and just say it like that.’
‘That’s what’s so great about this group,’ the girl called Jenny tells me. ‘There’s no hiding here, or pretending to be OK when you’re not. The whole point of the class, and of chatting afterwards, is about letting it out.’
‘Better out than in.’ Charlotte holds her wine glass up and everyone repeats it and does a ‘cheers’. The circle bleeds into groups of different chatter and I listen hard, trying to get the grasp of everyone. Charlotte works for a start-up in East London. Anya with the black hair works in finance. Jenny’s a secondary-school science teacher. Hazel has two children and has had to move back home with her parents after leaving her ex. And Steph’s only just graduated from Oxford a month ago, and doesn’t know what the hell to do with her life. They update one another on the week’s dramas, compare notes on their punching techniques. Hazel jokes about how she’s finally losing the baby weight even though that’s the last reason on earth she came. There’s an easiness in the air. There’s no whiff of any female competition – just camaraderie. I drink it in as I drink my wine, wondering how any of these women have any trauma at all when they seem so very fine. Until I hear Jenny mention to Hazel, ‘God, I had the worst flashback on Wednesday. I literally couldn’t get out of bed all the next day. I had to call in sick. Me. A teacher.’
‘Shit love. I’m so sorry. What set it off?’ Hazel pulls her in for a quick hug.
‘A school fucking assembly. We had some guy come in to talk to the girls about personal safety, and it just set me off. Shaking. Crying. Reliving it. The worst! And it was only 9.30 in the morning. I had to hold it together the whole day. I just shoved the students in front of Osmosis fucking Jones, even the Year Elevens, and cried at the back of the classroom in the dark.’
‘I’m really sorry,’ I say, then worry I’ve just butted in.
But Jenny looks up, takes me in. ‘Thank you,’ she smiles.
‘I had a really bad flashback the other day.’ I’m not sure why I’m blurting this out but I keep going. ‘They’re the worst. I’ve been signed off from work this week.’
‘That’s awful. I’m sorry you had to go through that.’ And, even though we don’t know each other, Jenny reaches over to squeeze my hand. ‘What brought you to the class? If you don’t mind me asking, of course?’
‘I don’t mind at all,’ I say. ‘I was in an abusive relationship with this guy for two years. He … he raped me.’ Saying it feels like pulling off a pair of pinching shoes at the end of a long day. I’ve hardly told anyone this. Only Megan, Carol, Matt, Katy and the odd badly-chosen romantic dalliance. I’ve not even told my mum. I twist my hands in my lap. ‘He only did it twice though.’
Jenny shakes her head wryly. ‘Oh yes, only been raped the two times. That’s nothing.’
I giggle at the ridiculousness of what I’ve just said. ‘You know what I mean.’
‘Unfortunately I do. We’re so good at diminishing it, aren’t we? When we really shouldn’t.’
‘I’m so sorry that happened to you,’ Hazel says, as I wipe under my eyes. ‘You’ve done the right thing, coming to this class. I was raped too … if you haven’t figured that out by now.’
‘Essentially we all were, in some way, somehow,’ Charlotte says, running a hand through her crop. ‘It’s what links us.’
‘It’s something that links many women,’ Hazel adds, picking up her wine and taking a big slurp. ‘Once I started coming here and talking about it, the more I realised it’s a case of who’s been lucky enough not to have this happen to them rather than the other way around.’
‘Hear, hear!’ Charlotte cheers the air.
I’ve never felt more understood and less alone than I do in this precise moment. The world’s turned clear, like I’ve finally got the right prescription lenses with which to see it. There’s a happy sharpness to this pub. The colours are brighter, the voices louder, my heart softer.
‘Just nipping to the loo,’ I say. ‘Do you mind looking after my bag?’ I squeeze around the table and push through into the toilet which doesn’t have any paper left. It