Conviction(39)

“Will you at least do one thing, Neen?” Sophie’s voice interrupts the maelstrom of thoughts occurring inside my now wine addled brain.

I raise my eyebrows as I ask, “What?”

“Will you let me take a couple of photos of your face?”

“Why?”

She lets out a long breath and shrugs her shoulders. “Insurance… evidence. I don’t know. What if he comes here? What if he tries something again?”

“I don’t think he will. He’s never done anything like this before. He’s never even mentioned my relationship with Conner before.”

“I wonder what triggered him to do something like that tonight then.”

“I’ve no idea.”

“Well, if you’ve no idea, how do you know it won’t happen again?”

I nod, then shake my head, feeling totally confused. “I don’t.”

“So, can I? I don’t trust him Neen, and that’s got nothing to do with me not liking him. I just don’t trust him. He’s a lawyer, he knows every trick in the book. Even if you went to the police right now, which I think is absolutely the right thing to do, by the way, even if you went to the police and accused him of rape and assault, I bet he’d know how to wriggle out of it. He’d know of some technicality that would get him off and if he didn’t, I bet he’d have a contact that would.”

I keep my eyes on her while I try to remain focused as the realisation of the enormity of the situation washes over me. Nodding my head, I tell her, “Take the photos. Take them on your phone and email them to me, yourself and the business email.”

My husband might generally be mild mannered and gentle around me, but I’m fully aware of how ruthless he is in business. His law firm hadn’t expanded so rapidly since he took over because he didn’t know his shit. He knew it, and he executed his dealings with finite precision.

“D’ya think I should seek legal representation, Soph?”

“I don’t know, babe. Where are you going with this? What’s your next move?”

I tilt my head back and look up at ceiling. Tears escape from each corner of my eyes and roll down my face and neck.

“I’ve no f*cking idea.”

“Is this the end d’ya think? Is it over for you?”

I nod without hesitation. “Yeah, I think it is. I think my marriage is over.”

“Then I think we need to get these photos taken and then find you the best lawyer we can on Monday morning.”

Despite the increase in my heart rate, I suddenly feel a sense of complete and utter calm wash over me. I’ve tried my best. I really have tried, but there’s just not enough there to make me want to stay and fight anymore, especially after tonight.

“Okay, get your phone. Let’s get some pictures and then I need to sleep.”





I’m woken by the sound of Clean Bandits ‘Rather Be’, this week’s ringtone of choice, playing over and over again. I struggle to open my eyes and then to get my bearings.

I’m on the wrong side of the bed to where I usually sleep and someone is spooning me from behind. Marcus doesn’t spoon. A doorbell rings. Then my phone starts again.

Marcus.

Shit, Marcus!

Last night.

I sit up and my head spins, then pounds.

Sophie mumbles something and then turns to face the other way and carries on sleeping. You could put a rocket up that girl's arse and it wouldn’t wake her. I’ve never known anyone to sleep as soundly as Soph.

I grab my phone off the bedside table and head out to the open plan kitchen and living area where Duchess is wagging her tail. I’m amazed that she’s not standing with her legs crossed when I look at the clock and realise it’s almost eleven o’clock.

My phone shows that I have over twenty missed calls from Marcus as well as eight text messages.

I slide down the kitchen cabinet and give Duch some attention.

“Well girl, this is the first day of the rest of our lives, and as soon as I’ve had a wee I’ll take you down for one.” She tilts her head from side to side as I talk and she listens.

I put a handful of dry food in a bowl I take from the cupboard. Soph always keeps a supply of Duchess’s favourites here, for the odd occasions when she’s looked after her for me.

As I head off to the bathroom, the intercom buzzes and someone bangs on the front door then my phone rings again. It’s Marcus and he’s obviously downstairs.

I expected him to be here looking for me this morning and, surprisingly, I feel rather calm. I go to the bathroom and then to the bedroom and pull on the clothes I was wearing last night. Sophie’s sitting up rubbing at her face.

“What’s happening? What time is it?”

“It’s almost eleven and Marcus is downstairs.”

“Fuck. I don’t want that crazy f*cker up here, Neen. He can f*ck right off.”

“I need to talk to him. He won’t go away until I do and I have to let Duchess out anyway.”

“Wait, I’ll come with you. We’ll walk her over to the park. I don’t want him in here, Neen, I’m serious.”

“Well, hurry up then before Duchess disgraces herself over your kitchen floor.”

I go back to the bathroom and splash my face with water and clean my teeth, noting in the mirror the lovely purple bruise I have spreading from the side of my mouth to the edge of my jaw. I consider covering it with makeup but then think, f*ck it, let him see the damage he’s done.