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Ian and Paul came to blows in the past when Paul made a silly comment about the potato famine. Ian had to be pulled off Paul by three of our mates, all big and strong.
Ian has a side to him… a dark side.
I know the potato famine is nothing to joke about, but Paul was young, being silly… drunk. He didn’t know what he was saying. They could have talked it out, Ian could have educated him, but instead it quickly turned into a brawl and Paul was taken to a medical centre for three stiches across his eye. Looking back, with hindsight, I wonder if their quarrel wasn’t about more than potatoes – did Ian suspect then that Paul has a thing for me?
Ian has never laid a finger on me, but he has hurt me in other ways.
If looks could kill, Ian’s would kill me. He doesn’t care one bit about Paul. It’s me he’s pissed off with. I let another guy into our flat.
Ian leaves the room and Paul comes towards me.
“I’d better go,” he says. “I’m sorry, so sorry.”
“Yep.”
“Sure you’ll be okay?” he asks, his hand involuntarily going to the scar near his eyebrow.
“I’m still going to Mum and Dad’s, I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll call you,” Paul says, leaving in a hurry.
My heart can’t take it once he’s gone and I rush into the bathroom, lock the door then flick on the shower. Under the water, I cry and cry.
Once I’m clean, I leave the bathroom in my robe and enter the bedroom. The bedlinen is upside down and it really does look as if a tornado whipped through here. Ian must be so angry with me.
From the wardrobe, I pull out the gifts I bought my family and instead of wrapping them, I shove them inelegantly into some old gift bags. I’m sure they will understand – I have been busy with a new job and everything, after all.
I was going to buy a gift for Ian and give it to him when he got back after the New Year, but I doubt that will be happening now.
I start getting dressed when he appears at the doorway. He stands there with his arms folded, staring at me as if I’m nothing.
“How long, Lily?” he asks, his voice like death.
I don’t look at him. “Just last night.”
“You expect me to believe you?”
“Believe what you like.”
“You two have had something going on for ages.”
“We’re friends, that’s all. He gave me something last night I’ve been missing.”
He swoops across the room and has his hand raised by the time I turn around and wonder what the hell he’s doing. Poised to strike, but for some reason he doesn’t.
In this moment, I see the truth I’ve been blind to for so long. In his eyes I see hatred and coldness. I see nothing. Just an emotionless, deceitful, twisted man who won’t hit me because it would prove to me, and to himself, what he’s really like beneath all that charm and education. An intellectual maybe, but he’s abusive, and I figured it out months ago. That’s why I stopped sucking up to him; that’s why he stopped making an effort to fuck me. I’d figured him out.
“Go on, hit me, Ian,” I goad. “It’s not as though you haven’t already done enough, huh? Making me feel like shit. We’re not good together.”
He steps back and looks at the floor, mumbling, “We’re over.”
I guess that’s that.
Chapter Six
New Year’s Eve. I’m beneath my duvet, avoiding everything and everyone. Even my mum and dad have gone down to the pub and I’m still in my bed, where I’ve been for the past few days.
My older sister Lauren is out with her boyfriend, too and I’m no longer the smug younger sister with a proper live-in boyfriend and all. I’m the dumb idiot who just moved back home.
