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It was one thing to move on when you didn’t have contact with the person who’d hurt you; it was another thing entirely when they exploded back into your life on a regular basis.
I had to learn how to manage those feelings and move on now that we lived in the same town. I’d thought that last night right before I’d gone a bit loopy, and although I regretted saying it all out loud, I sincerely hoped it would be enough for him to get the message.
It’d been as cathartic as it had been awkward. I’d needed to say those things, and it was just unfortunate they’d happened to come out when I was drunk. Again, though, like Mum said, alcohol removed the barriers that sobriety had in place.
Mum was wise.
So was sobriety.
Not that I’d intended to get that drunk last night, mind you. It was one of those nights that just happened sometimes. You sit down with an idea to have a couple of drinks and end up completely sozzled because you’re having too much fun.
And boy, I’d hadfun.
Steph was a genuinely funny person who was enjoyable to be around. She had the same humour as me and Ash, and we’d spent the entire night laughing and telling her stories of our childhood and all the crap we got up to during the summers. She’d enjoyed every second, especially when Declan’s family had left, and she’d finally been able to relax.
She’d needed last night, and so had I.
Steph had been a bit loose lipped about her marriage, and as I cleaned the inside of the cupboards in the annexe, I let my brain wander to that part of the conversation.
Ash had reached drunk status before me, and this was one conversation I could remember clearly.
Her marriage had been as we’d suspected—abusive. Not physically, and Steph had been clear about emphasising that Declan had never laid so much as a pinkie finger on a single hair on her head, but he’d been emotionally and financially abusive.
He’d made one hundred percent of the money, and after they’d moved here, he’d slowly changed until he controlled her every move. He gave her just enough of an ‘allowance’ that she could get her hair and nails done, buy nice clothes, buy things for the house, et cetera, but that was it. She had no fun money, no friends, and the only reason she even had her own car was because she needed it to get around and do things like the grocery shopping.
She was the very definition of a trophy wife, trotted out for business dinners and events, fancy photographs and parties where he played the doting husband. Every time she thought about trying to leave him, he love-bombed her until she was right back at square one.
She said it’d taken her a long time to realise it. It wasn’t until Shane was here on holiday that she saw the pattern, and after he left, she started to put her plan into motion.
Her regular hair and beauty salons weren’t in Fox Point and Declan never went to them, so she was able to ask her girls to say they were upping their prices. They never did, but they charged her the larger amount then slipped her some cash back, and she hid it in a bank account Declan didn’t know about. Grocery shops started costing ten or so pounds more every time, but she was actually buying gift cards and stockpiling them in a storage unit for use at a later date.
It had been a dangerous plan, but Declan had never questioned it. It wasn’t until Shane moved to Fox Point that she finally had a place to stay, and she knew she’d be safe there, and he helped her put the divorce in motion over time.
She was fucking smart, and I was slightly in awe of her bravery. Not only to divorce him, but to lay out the plan that she had to ensure she had a small financial cushion. I’d asked her why she hadn’t gone back to Wrexham—it was the other side of the country, after all. She’d explained that her dad was ill, and she didn’t want to bring drama to their doorstep, which was why she’d stayed here.
Declan had tried love-bombing her again, but she was immune to it. She’d planned for so long to escape his clutches, and living with Shane was the grounding marker she needed. Every time she softened, Shane reminded her of everything he’d done and how it was all part of the pattern.
She’d almost gone back to him once, when Declan had shown up on the doorstep and forced her to let him in, but she’d thrown a vase at his head when he refused to leave, and he’d had no choice but to go.
It was the first real indication I’d had that Steph could have well killed him.
I didn’t want to believe it. She was my friend, and given the circumstances, I couldn’t say I blamed her if she had killed him. He’d made her life a living hell, reducing her to nothing more than something pretty on his arm, then dragged her through thorny bushes during the divorce. Not to mention it was clear that she absolutely loathed the man.
If she’d finally snapped and killed him, then good for her.
I’d extend that sentiment to anyone who did the same thing to their abuser.
It seemed a reasonable reaction to me.
I sat back and looked inside the cupboard. It was finally clean. It wasn’t much progress, but it was progress.
I closed the door and moved to the other cupboard, the one just under the sink. I knew for a fact that the pipe was blocked here, and I’d watched seven hundred YouTube videos on unscrewing them to unblock the little u-bend thing, and this was going to be my moment to shine.
If I couldn’t do this, then this whole renovation was doomed. I wanted to be able to do minor things like this myself, so I rolled up my sleeves and got stuck in under the sink, but not before putting a bowl there to catch any lingering water.
That turned out to be a good idea, because the second I removed the bendy part of the pipe, water and gunk gushed out of the pipe into the bowl.
Ew.
