The Rabbit Girls(78)

Hani and Bunny have sewn all my letters into Wanda’s spare uniform. They did this as a gift to me and I am never more relieved that I write to you in French and German so they do not know what I have written. But they are hidden in a dress now, where once they were stuffed under the mattress. Hani and I share the spare dress, for it keeps away the cold.

The weather has turned.

A knock disturbs Miriam and she opens the door, hoping to see Eva. The intercom buzzes. Momentarily distracted by the noise she glances to the phone. A foot blocks the opening and a push from the other side pulls the chain to its maximum with a ‘ching’. Miriam pushes against the door, but it won’t close. She takes a few steps back and watches the chain, so bright and new, as it grips to the door. A foot leaves the gap and she moves forward to try and shut it.

The chain slackens and the door bursts open with force as Axel propels himself into the flat. She’s off-balance and falls back against the wall. His smell washes over her in waves and she breathes through her mouth, trying not to taste his warmth. He closes and then bolts the door. The carpet thick under her feet she steps back, her toes sinking into the thick pile trying to find some leverage, something that will keep her rooted to the spot.

‘Divorce?’ he laughs. ‘You want a divorce?’

She knows fighting makes things worse. She knows he loves it when she says no, when she fights, but she cannot just roll over. Those days are gone, she hopes. Her body starts quivering like a drop of water poised to fall.

‘Yes,’ she says. ‘I am divorcing you.’

‘Oh, no Mim, you are going into the hospital.’ He moves closer to her, but she stands upright, as tall as it is possible for her to be.

‘As soon as I can get you there. I chose you, of all the women that were available to me, I chose you. You belong to me. See this?’ He lifts his hand and the movement makes her flinch back as if hit. His wedding ring, gold and worn, catches her eye. ‘This means you are mine.’

‘No, Axel. I’m not.’ And she takes a step towards him to try to make him move out of her way, but he remains static and she has just walked closer to him. She doesn’t move and neither does he. He has a smile on his lips. A smile that doesn’t touch his eyes, a smile that is as dangerous as a threat.

‘Please leave,’ she says. He lowers his head, then bends his face into her neck, he breathes into her ear, long and slow, like a whisper, a promise. She tries not to flinch.

‘Leave,’ she says again, but the quiver in her body shakes her voice too.

‘No,’ is all he says. ‘You can leave, of course, I won’t stop you.’ Then he bites her earlobe hard, she jumps as if electricity runs through her veins and he laughs. ‘But where would you go? You have no one now.’

And the truth of the statement hurts Miriam more than she thought it could. ‘The fun I’m going to have with you before you get shipped off.’

‘I’m not going anywhere, the doctors . . .’

‘Will be lining up to sign the forms themselves.’

‘I’m not mad.’

‘Not yet, but see these?’ He holds a bag with a few jars of something in his hand, it wobbles around so she cannot get a good look at it. ‘You’ll be in such a comatose state, not one doctor in the country will disagree with me.’

‘What is that?’

‘Your father’s medications, from the hospice,’ he says with pride.

‘You want to drug me?’

‘As if this is a new thing to you?’

She waits, hoping she’ll comprehend what he is saying soon.

‘I wasn’t ill in the first place, was I? Why? What did I do?’ she says.

‘I did what any loving husband would do,’ he says with such loathing she recoils. ‘Come on, Mim.’ He nudges her shoulder. ‘Fight me.’ She stands still and looks at the skirting board in the kitchen, focusing on the dust that has accumulated on it. ‘Come on, you whore, you want it, that’s what it is, right? Let’s play, just like we did before you left.’ She shudders, ‘Ah, you liked that, right?’ He gently guides her into the lounge.

‘Leave,’ she repeats.

‘Look.’ He reaches into his pocket and pulls out some polaroid photos.

She looks away.

‘This is my favourite one, do you want to see?’ He moves her head, holding her by the chin. ‘Look at you beg for me.’

She can see the image of herself and she tastes bile in her mouth. She turns her gaze away as he examines her in the flesh against the picture. ‘Hmm, things seem to have changed a bit.’

He takes a step away and puts the picture back in his pocket. Placing his jars of drugs on the table he pulls out a dining-room chair and sits on it backwards. Resting his arms over the back.

‘Wife,’ he says quietly, then gets up and moves the chair around. ‘You look so very sad, come to me and tell me what’s wrong.’

She doesn’t move.

‘Now.’ He shoots spittle and words together and without wanting to step forward, she does.

‘Sorry, Mim, you have to know how hard this has been for me, with you so unwell and me alone, day and night. Well, you know what I get like. It has really been the lowest ebb for me without you. Do you forget so easily?’ His face softens and he rests his head on his arms.