The Peacock Emporium(77)

Against the sound of children riding bicycles on the pavement outside, they had sat silently beside each other on the long sofa, which was covered by a pale throw. Suzanna tried not to think what marks on the sofa had led to it needing to be covered.

Jessie brought through a tray of mugs, refused offers of help, and sat down, facing them. “Anyone for sugar?” she said, her voice thick with the effort of speaking through a fat lip.

Suzanna, with an unexpected hiccup, began to cry, brushing at her face in an attempt to disguise her tears. It all seemed so wrong somehow, seeing Jessie like this. She was so far removed from the kind of women she imagined this usually happened to.

Alejandro pulled out a handkerchief. Suzanna took it wordlessly, ashamed that, in the face of such pain, it was she who was crying.

“Please don’t, Suze.” Jessie’s voice was determinedly upbeat. “It looks worse than it feels, honest.”

“Where is your daughter?”

“She was staying at my mum’s, thank God. Now I just have to find a way to keep her there another night without Mum kicking off.”

“You want me to take a look at your hand?” Alejandro offered.

“It’s just bruised.”

“You might need stitches in that lip. You should probably get an X-ray too, just to check that your head’s okay.”

Suzanna watched as Alejandro moved over to Jessie and examined her face, turning it gently toward the light. “You want me to get some butterfly stitches from work? It would help this heal quicker. Or maybe some painkillers.”

“I tell you what you could do, Ale. Tell me how I can get the swelling down. I need to have Emma home ASAP and I don’t want to scare the living daylights out of her. I’ve done ice packs and arnica cream, but if there’s anything else . . .”

Alejandro was still looking closely at her head. “Nothing that’s going to make any real difference,” he said.

There was a silence. Suzanna took her tea and stared into it, unsure what to say. Jessie, in her pain and apparently well-rehearsed composure, seemed like a stranger.

“You want me to talk to him?”

Suzanna glanced up. Alejandro’s expression was hard; his voice had been tight with restraint.

Jessie shook her head. “I have told him,” she said, eventually. “That he’s gone too far, I mean.”

Outside, the children were squabbling. Their voices were raised against each other at the other end of the street.

“I know what you’re both thinking but I won’t let this carry on. For Emma’s sake, as much as anything. I’ve told him, the next time he lays a finger on me he’s out.”

Alejandro looked down into his mug.

“I mean it,” said Jessie. “I don’t expect you to believe me, but I will. I want to see what happens with this anger-management course before I actually pack up and go.”

“Jessie, please go now. Please. I’ll help. We’ll all help.”

“You don’t understand, Suze. This isn’t some stranger, this is the man I’ve loved since I was . . . since I was practically a kid myself. And I know the real him and this is not it. I can’t throw away ten years just because of a rough few months. He’s Emma’s dad, for God’s sake. And, believe it or not, when he’s not . . . like this, we have a good time together. We’ve been happy for years.”

“You’re making excuses for him.”

“I probably am. And I can see how it looks to you. But I just wish you’d known him before this started. I wish you could have seen us together.”

Suzanna glanced at Alejandro. She had thought, given his evident affection for Jessie, that he might get angry, intervene on her behalf despite her protests, but he was just sitting there, holding his mug. It made her feel frustrated.

“I’m not frightened of him, you know. I mean, yes, it’s a bit frightening when he loses it, but it’s not like I’m walking around the house terrified of setting him off.” Jess looked from Suzanna to Alejandro. “I’m not an idiot. This is his last chance. Don’t people deserve a chance to change?”

“It’s not that—”

“Look, you know what started this off, don’t you?” Jessie lifted a mug with her injured hand, then transferred it to the good one and took a sip. “Father Lenny. He had a go at him about losing his temper. He felt like everyone was judging him. He thought I’d been telling tales and that the town had turned against him. You know what it’s like around here. I know, because a lot of people wouldn’t talk to me when I was a cleaner. Like it somehow made me different.”

She put her mug down. “You’ve got to let me handle this myself. Don’t make things worse. If I decide he really has turned into someone I don’t feel safe with, I’ll pack my bags and go.” She tried to smile. “I’ll move into the shop, Suzanna. Then you’ll never be rid of me.”

Come now, Suzanna wanted to say, but there was something in Jessie’s determined expression that stopped her.

“Here’s my number.” Alejandro was scribbling on a piece of paper. “You change your mind about your hand, want me to get you some butterfly stitches, anything, you call me. Okay?”

“I’ll be back at work the day after tomorrow.”