When she got home, she gave the dogs a treat and settled them in their beds next to the fire to dry off. Johnny, who had just got back from a run, had tucked Margery up with a blanket, a hot water bottle and a hot toddy; he had also moved her armchair closer to the fire. Noticing the sound of the shower turning on in the bathroom next door, Helena hauled the suitcase of Raffy and Noah’s possessions back out of the wardrobe and onto her bed. Her cheeks flushed with anger as the memories of all that she had been subjected to raced through her mind, all that she now realised Kate had probably been subjected to too. She bagged up everything she had saved that had belonged to Noah and loaded it into the car. Promising to get Margery some Lemsip from the pharmacy, she drove the whole lot down to the charity shop. She couldn’t part with Raffy’s things, nor did she want to, but she was suddenly desperate to erase every trace of Noah from her life. She felt furious with herself for believing all of his lies, for allowing him to control her so completely, to isolate her. It made her blood boil to think of all the friendships she had lost because of him, of all the opportunities she had missed out on. Of the shadow of her former self she had become. Of how much Raffy would always beaffected by his controlling nature. She wanted to be rid of all the evidence of their twisted relationship.
‘I’ve got some items to donate!’ Helena smiled cheerfully at the volunteer behind the till. It was someone new today, a younger man wearing a punk-rock T-shirt.
‘Awesome!’ he grinned. ‘If you could leave them at the back for me that would be great.’ He gestured towards a sign saying ‘Donations’ by the back door.
‘Have a lovely day!’ Helena called as she left the shop, unable to wipe the broad grin from her cheeks. She felt liberated, alive, for the first time in as long as she could remember.
27
THE FOLLOWING WEEKat work passed by quickly and uneventfully. Helena was finding her stride, becoming quicker at operating the till and more skilled with the coffee machine. She found herself thriving with the routine her job offered her, realising how important having a sense of purpose was, especially to distract her from thinking about Raffy. She also realised how much she enjoyed working in the café. She loved chatting to the customers, watching them go about their business as they sat working or talking to friends. She spoke to the elderly people that came in and cradled their one cup of tea for hours, realising they were probably craving company, having experienced that feeling for herself. The café was like a small safe haven from the outside world. It served a real purpose in the community: a place to come to meet friends, to seek company, to eat, to drink, to escape the elements – exactly what was missing in Hambleton. There was something reassuring and rewarding about being part of that. It was tiring work, but she loved it.
The social interaction she had at work was meaningful and positive, making her feel connected to the world once again. Of all the people that came through the door, the children were her favourite, accompanying frazzled, exhausted mothers, and the occasional father, as they mainlined caffeine to get themselves through the day. She loved interacting with the kids as she cleared the tables, enjoying the occasional smile or wave as they looked at her with unabashed curiosity. She loved watching the tiny newborns the most, with their scrunched-up frog legs and silken hair, bobbing their heads around in search of milk. She began to feelthe faintest bit hopeful for a new future, one where the chance of starting a family of her own no longer seemed like an impossibility. She thought back to the psychic who had told her all those years ago that she would meet a man and have a child. Maybe she hadn’t been talking about Noah and Raffy. Maybe there was someone else on the horizon for her after all? She knew she was a long way off being open to a new relationship, but she was thirty-eight. There was time. Who knew what the future held?
As Margery said later that night, after sharing a bottle of wine, ‘It is, after all, much better to be alone than to be with another person who makes you miserable.’
‘Were you?’ Johnny asked, concern causing the lines on his forehead to deepen even more than usual as he studied her with those piercing blue eyes. ‘Miserable, I mean?’
Helena paused for a minute or two. She couldn’t lie to him, or to Margery. She felt her eyes brim with tears. ‘Yes. I think I was. It sounds absurd, how I couldn’t have realised it at the time. But now I’ve had some distance I’ve started to see our relationship for what it was.’
‘Did he ever hurt you?’ Johnny asked. He looked so upset at the thought that Helena couldn’t help but feel touched. Margery too. There was something about the two faces staring back at her, both so open and supportive, so lacking in judgement. Over dinner she had found herself telling them about the controlling behaviour, the arguments, about all Noah’s weird rules and regulations: how he hadn’t let her socialise, the fitness regime he had put her on, the healthy diet he had enforced, how she had had to answer the telephone within three rings, how he expected her to be immaculately dressed but spend little to no money. The more she talked about it, the more she realised how crazy it all sounded, how completely unreasonable it had all been.
She shook her head. ‘Not really. He pulled my hair, pushed me around a bit.’ She paused, reliving the memory. ‘He very nearly punched me once… He smashed his fist into the wall right next to my head.’
‘Jesus!’ Johnny reached for Helena’s hand across the table, his eyes alight with anger. ‘That fucking bastard!’
‘I quite agree,’ Margery said, shaking her head. She looked so distressed Helena almost wished she hadn’t said anything. But she also felt relieved, as though a weight had lifted from her shoulders. It felt good to finally be heard. She hadn’t realised how much she had needed the external validation to tell her she was not crazy, that his behaviour really had been unacceptable.
‘How could anyone treatyoulike that?’ Johnny asked. ‘Of all people?’
‘I know. Someone as kind as you, Helena. Who wouldn’t hurt a fly. It’s so cruel. I’m so glad he’s gone,’ Margery sighed. ‘Although, of course, I worry for Raffy. I am sure he is lost without you.’
Helena was more grateful than they knew for their understanding. She was glad she had told them, that it was no longer her shameful secret to carry around.
‘Your support means a lot to me. Both of you.’
‘I know what it’s like to lose someone,’ Johnny said, his brow furrowed as if reliving the pain. ‘It seems impossible to imagine another future. But time does help. For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing amazingly well.’
‘Thank you,’ she smiled, hoping he was right – that the more time that passed, the stronger she would feel. She already felt like she was coming back to herself the longer she spent away from Noah. She was stunned just how much she had lost her sense of self these past years, and how slowly and insidiously he had worn her away.
As Helena served dessert, a pear and amaretti crumble she had baked earlier that evening, Margery announced that she had some news.
‘Guess who will soon be responsible for the wellbeing of Podge and Perkins?’
Johnny chuckled, raising an eyebrow. ‘Oh yes, you haven’t heard! It seems we’ve now not only got three dogs but also two pigs to look after.’ Knowing he was talking about them, Trevor,Tammy and Terry’s ears pricked up and their tails began to wag as they lounged sleepily in their ragged tartan dog basket by the Aga.
‘I’m afraid we do!’ Margery laughed apologetically.
‘What’s happening to Dave?’ Helena asked. The pub had finally closed its doors for good the previous weekend. They had all gone for a final drink on the Saturday evening, a whisky for Margery who had insisted on coming despite her cold. She had looked so poorly that Johnny and Helena had only stayed for one before walking Margery home and getting her tucked up in bed. Helena had found herself wishing they could have gone back for another round of drinks, just the two of them, but neither of them had suggested it and so they’d called it a night.
‘Dave has booked himself a last-minute ticket to Canada,’ Margery explained.
‘Canada?’
‘He came over earlier,’ Margery continued. ‘Now he’s no longer running the pub he’s decided to take a once in a lifetime trip to see his family over there. He’s rented the flat out for six months. When he gets back he’s going to convert the ground floor into another flat and sell it on.’
‘At least that way he can stay in the village I suppose,’ Helena said.
‘Exactly. I’ve volunteered to feed the pigs while he’s gone. Johnny is going to deal with the rest of their upkeep.’
