White Bodies(14)



I’ve been bombarding both of them with questions about Felix, about the way he has come between Tilda and me, about those bruised arms, and the day that he pushed her to the bottom of the Thames, so casually, like it was a normal thing to do. Sometimes I think I’m prey to sinister imaginings, that I’m getting carried away, but Scarlet is direct and analytical, and says that, taken together, the signs are clear—Felix is a danger to Tilda. Belle, also, has no doubts.

Eventually she says:

Whats ur news?

Saw Pink today and spoke to her.

!!???!!?? Is she ok?

Not so good. Very thin. Starey eyes, cut lips. I’m worried X is somehow starving her.

Xtremely likely. Easy 2 do. Make sure NO food in house. Withhold money. Typical predator tactics!!

She went out to buy cigarettes.

Easy 4 prey to have skewed priorities. Maybe Pink has a few pence and craving nicoteen more than food!!

She said she’ll come to my workplace tomorrow and we’ll have lunch together.

!!! Without X????

Yes. At least, she didn’t mention him. I’m hoping we’ll be able to have a proper chat about the danger she is in. About an exit strategy. And how I can help.

It isn’t long before I remember why it is I prefer chatting to Scarlet. Belle’s spelling choices and random punctuation marks are distracting, and I can’t help wondering what she’s like at work in the hospital, on the old people’s wards. Hey, dude!!! It’s suppository time!!! or No WAY this is going to HURT, Mr. Rumbelow!!! Belle is a kind person, though, and she’s always looking out for Lavender, being protective, and also telling us work stories like I sang the whole of The Sound of Music to Mrs. Prakash, because it was her favorite, but then she went and died!!! Scarlet is the opposite—always serious, always holding something back, so I never feel that I know her well. Just as I’m thinking this, she pops up on the screen.

Hello Belle. Hello Calliegirl. Can’t stop, X about to appear—wanting X-rated attention—but can we meet in the Zone at 7:30 p.m. tomorrow?

Off COURSE!!

Yes, fine with me. Seeing Pink tomorrow, so I can report back then.

Good. Watch the news tonight. It will be informative. S

It’s typical of Scarlet to have that commanding tone—telling us what to do. And I’ve noticed that these days she often redirects us to “the Zone,” which is a separate email exchange for the three of us to use when we don’t want strangers joining our conversation in the Controlling Men forum. We use it when we have private information to share, like Belle’s work anecdotes and Scarlet’s sex life. I understand her concern, because it often happens—a man comes on the site to tell us that women can be controlling too, or to swear at us and become aggressive, although the mediator deletes the worst abuse pretty promptly. But we have to be so vigilant—because it’s easy for a predator to infiltrate the forum as a spy. So we quiz new people hard, weighing them up. One time someone called Destini seemed genuine and for several weeks joined in our conversations, but then started to say that if the prey were more “feminine” and “appreciative” their “gripes” with predators would disappear. Not subtle. And when he was challenged, he used horrific swear words at us.

Our topics can be specific, like giving advice to prey and befrienders in disastrous situations, and the same predictable old stories keep coming up, of predators suspecting their wives and girlfriends of being unfaithful, or preparing to leave, or of disrespecting them. The surprising part is the predators’ creative ideas about punishments. Violet has to “submit expenses” when she buys the household groceries and keep receipts for a bag of tomatoes or a box of eggs. And Sienna told a story of saving up to buy a dress in a silky yellow fabric. When she put it on and did a twirl, X told her she was mutton dressed as lamb, then he unzipped her and carefully cut up the dress into squares, for dusters. And we’re all worried about Lilac because she’s not allowed into her converted loft room. X has put a combination lock on the door and he spends most evenings in there busy with some mystery hobby that requires hammering and moving furniture about. Belle’s exclamation marks go crazy when she thinks about all the possibilities.

We also discuss news stories that are relevant for our forum, and there are so many of them, even in these past few months. Like Steve Chase, the Swindon cabdriver with “a winning smile,” whose wife, Sheree, told him she wanted a divorce, so he chopped her up with an ax before he killed his children, four-year-old Lauren and two-year-old Bradley, and hanged himself in the garage. It’s gruesome stuff, but it keeps happening, so often in fact, that the Chase murders didn’t even make the newspapers’ front pages and were item seven on the BBC News website. In Controlling Men we realized that the signs were there all along. Sheree’s sister told the press how, at first, Steve had been a romantic boyfriend, showering Sheree with gifts, whisking her off to Amsterdam, turning up at her workplace with white roses. After the wedding, he had stayed in command—buying Sheree’s clothes for her, dictating when she could or couldn’t see her friends, forbidding her from driving the car.

Then there was the Kansas kidnapping case. In the photos Wez Tremaine looked horrible, with his demented hair and monumental beer gut, but so did all his mates, the regular guys whose eyes went blank and bewildered when they spoke to TV reporters. Wez had had a couple of run-ins with the police for beating up Jaynina, the wife who eventually ran away, in 2004, after he knocked out two teeth and cracked six ribs, and it was common knowledge that he had a dark side. But no one guessed that he had two teenagers chained up in the cellar. There was no back chat from Leeanne and Joelle, no sneaking off for an X-ray when he showed them who’s boss, no excuses when he wanted sex. Wez did make front-page news, of course, all over the world because, after three years in the Tremaine hellhole, Leeanne and Joelle escaped, and everyone loves it when someone comes back from the dead.

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