AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Oh,’ I croak in surprise, covering it up. ‘It’s nothing…’
‘The hell it is,’ he snaps. ‘Let me see that. That didn’t happen just now.’
‘No, it’s nothing,’ I say, backing away.
He’s so big, much bigger than my mugger, and could easily snap me in half if he wanted. Only his stance isn’t ominous in the least. If anything, he looks…concerned? Could it be that he’s actually got a drop of warm blood in him?
‘Who did this to you? Was it your boyfriend?’
‘What, Stephen? Of course not,’ I bite off.
I can’t even remember the last time Stephen had been anywhere near me. As a matter of fact, right now, Jago is standing much closer to me than Stephen has in weeks, and his eyes are delving into mine in search of the truth. Aren’t we all?
‘Well then, who?’
‘I was a-attacked, just outside my flat.’
His mouth falls open. ‘Jesus Christ! No wonder you bolted back there.’
‘It’s OK. I’m OK now,’ I assure, my lower lip suddenly doing this ridiculous wobbly thing.
I guess I hadn’t been expecting any concern from anyone except Maisie and Stephen, and the latter was a no-show. How I’d wanted him to drop everything, just for me, and come running to console me, if not save me from the evils of the world. Because I’d amply proved it to myself – I can’t save myself. And God knows I’ve tried.
As I feel my eyes burning, I whirl round to run away before the tears come.
‘Hey!’ he calls after me. ‘Emmie!’
‘And put that dog on a leash!’ I shout over my shoulder before I break into a new sprint up a hill, my legs and lungs burning one minute in. But I can’t afford to show anyone my weakness.
‘His name is Max!’ he calls back.
Is it so very wrong, in this day and age, for an independent although not single woman to resent her partner for not running to her rescue? Is it not unacceptable that Stephen didn’t come over immediately? Was I not important enough, or am I really acting like a damsel in distress by expecting my partner to be there for me, and possibly protect me against any physical harm? Am I living in the wrong century?
I like being independent and supporting myself and all, but I also like to get a phone call from Stephen every once in a while to make sure I’m OK. After all, it was his total indifference to my well-being that drove me out here.
Originally, coming from a somewhat cold family, I’d always thought that I didn’t deserve to have anyone being concerned or watching out for me. But then I’d discovered that that’s what people who love you naturally do. Even Maisie and her one-night stand Pablo had come running to me.
So why was it that with Stephen, I always feel that I shouldn’t be asking or expecting anything? He’s my fiancé, for goodness’ sake. When is he going to start acting like one? A visit from him the next morning is simply not enough. Why do I let him treat me like a second thought, when I was ready to blend my life with his and even put up with the monster-in-law? Something just doesn’t compute.
*
The next morning, there’s a message for me under the door:
Miss Weaver,
Please be prepared at 10 o’clock this morning for a meeting in the dining room.
Lady Mary Heatherton-Smythe
Miss Weaver. Like there’s no relation between us whatsoever, and I haven’t been on my knees scrubbing her personal commode. And if that’s not enough, I’m still waiting not only for an acknowledgment of the beautiful Christmas tree in the drawing room, but also every other festive touch strewn over the house.
I had wanted to reconnect with my only living relative, despite the fact that she hasn’t shown any interest in me whatsoever. It serves me right for practically begging her to belong.
She’s beginning to seem a lot like Stephen with his taking me for granted. And what about the fact that I’ve extended my stay in Cornwall to take care of her, when she could have hired anyone else to do the job? Why do people think that they can just take advantage of me? Let her source out her own bloody carer until Nettie comes back! Come to think of it, where would she find someone else – www.mindlessmartyrs.gov.uk?
And this morning’s meeting? I can already glean what kind of meeting it’s going to be. In fact, the note should read:
Miss Weaver,
