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I should’ve planned better. I should’ve squirrelled away more money. I should never have trusted Martin. My mother knew. She had told me he wasn’t a good man, and I ignored her, believing his lies, ignoring the red flags. Marrying him anyway.
She’ll be rolling in her grave, so disappointed in me. But if I had listened to her I wouldn’t have Toby, and despite the hell I’ve lived through, I won’t ever regret that.
At least we have each other.
“I’m so cold,” Toby cries, his sobs breaking my heart as I stare out of the window into the darkness of night. My back and arse ache from the bruises littering my skin and my body shivers from the cold as puffs of warm air escape my lips. I stifle a sob, thankful for the fact that Martin had avoided hitting my face, not because I wanted to protect the arsehole from people finding out he’s an abuser, but because I have to protect Toby from the truth. Just like I’m protecting him now.
“This is our adventure. Yours and mine,” I remind him, plastering on a smile despite the well of fear churning in my stomach.
“But who will bring Papa his breakfast?”
“I guess he’ll have to get it himself,” I reply, handing him Blue Bear, his favourite teddy. He wraps his arms around it, holding it tight. As old as Toby, Blue Bear is looking a little worse for wear after five years of accompanying my sweet boy everywhere.
“Doesn’t he miss us?” Toby asks.
“In the morning we’ll go back to that cafe and I’ll buy you another cup of hot chocolate, okay?” I say, distracting him, avoiding the difficult questions. “Maybe this time we can ask for a squirt of whipped cream on top too.”
“Really?” Toby asks, his cheek pressed against Blue Bear, his big brown eyes wide with happiness. They’re the only good thing he got from his father.
I choke back a sob, hating that’s all I can offer him. What kind of mother am I? I can’t even provide him a safe roof over his head, let alone a decent breakfast. The only reason I can promise him a measly hot chocolate is because of a stranger’s pity, but at least it bought him a decent meal tonight. I still feel prickly about the whole situation. I saw the way Hendrix, Drix, was looking at me, like I was a charity case. Not to mention the fact that I didn’t like how he’d pried into my situation despite me clearly not wanting to tell a complete stranger my problems. No doubt he thought I was an easy target. But I’m wiser now. I know men like him, I fell in love with one of them after all, and look how that ended up for us. Didn’t stop me from accepting the fifty pounds he left for me though.
God, how could I have let this happen?
“Mama?”
“I promise,” I reply, pressing a kiss against his head as I struggle to hold in the tears.
“Okay, Mama.”
Okay, Mama.
Somehow those two words are bloated with meaning. Okay, Mama, I trust you take care of me even though I haven’t slept in a real bed in over a week. Okay, Mama, you’re plastering on a smile even though I see the sadness in your eyes. Okay, Mama, this is our fun adventure, even though I’m cold and hungry, and it doesn’t feel very fun anymore.
“It will get better, I promise,” I whisper against the soft hair of his head, knowing that what he really needs right now is a warm bath, a safe place to sleep and a future filled with happiness and joy, not fear and uncertainty.
After a few more minutes of rocking Toby, he finally falls asleep, relaxing in my arms, unaware that with every mile that I’ve put between us and the bastard who stripped me of my self-esteem, joy and zest for life, my heart has barricaded itself in an impenetrable stone casing, vowing to never fall in love again.
For the next hour I stay awake, acutely aware that I’m a woman alone with a small child in an empty car park of a shopping mall we’d spent the day keeping warm in. Toby had so much fun wandering around the stores, playing in the free soft play area whilst I watched him like a hawk and worried myself sick about what to do next given I’m completely broke.
This morning when I checked my joint bank account that I share with that piece of shit we left behind, all the money in it had been withdrawn.
Every. Last. Penny.
A thousand pounds, gone. Just like that.
Why hadn’t I opened up a separate savings account? How could I be so stupid? The first thing I should’ve done after leaving was withdraw the cash before Martin had a chance to. But I had been running scared, intent on getting as many miles between us as possible, that I just hadn’t thought of it.
“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid,” I berate myself.
Swiping at the tears that fall, I continue to curse myself for my lack of foresight, forever believing Martin when he said he would change, that he would do better. I believed him, every time. When the verbal abuse began, my foolish heart had made excuses for him. He’d had a bad day. He didn’t mean it. I thought that my love would change him, would make him a better man. Of course, it never did. In fact, somehow I think it just made him hate me even more.
It wasn’t always this way. In the early days of our relationship he’d been attentive, showering me with gifts, attention, and love. Only now when I look back, I can see that it wasn’t real. He had controlled me, not loved me. He isolated me from my friends, claiming that all I needed was him, that I didn’t need anyone else, that it was us against the world.
I’d fallen for it. Hook, line and sinker.
Then as soon as Toby was born a year into our relationship, things began to change. He became angry at every little thing I did. He started staying late at work, then going on business trips for days on end, whilst I struggled to bring up a newborn baby who was often colicky and kept me up all hours of the day and night.
We needed him, and he let us down.
