“Can I come and speak to you? Amelia and I have had an argument.”

“Of course you can. You know that you don’t have to ask permission.”

“Thank you. I’ll be there in a few hours.”

I stood at the closed flat door; I could still hear her crashing around inside. I took a deep breath and inched back inside. She flounced out of the kitchen to face me. Judging by the state of her face, she had clearly been crying and screaming the entire time I was outside.

“I’m going to stay at Poppy’s house tonight,” I announced.

“Harry, I’m sorry. Please stay. I didn’t mean it,” Amelia pleaded.

“No, I need to go and clear my head. You should do the same.”

Amelia’s monster took over again. I saw it snarling at me from behind her eyes.

“Going to your sisters, sure. You mean staying with your whore?” she bellowed.

“No. I’ll be at my sister’s house. When I get back, we need to talk about this for a long time. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Take what? You’re a coward.”

“I am not a coward. I just can’t talk to you when you get like this. You could have killed me.”

“Now you are overreacting. It was in the heat of the moment because I love you so much.”

“People who love each other don’t do that.”

“You provoked me, and I responded. I can’t be blamed for that.”

“If you believe that, you need help,” I said directly.

Amelia stormed towards me, holding an empty wine glass in her hand. My initial thought was that she was going to smash it over my head, but she dropped it at the last minute and slapped me across the face instead. I had become so twisted that I actually felt grateful she elected to just slap me when she could have done so much more damage. She continued shouting and bawling at me, but something inside of me had snapped, and I was no longer willing to keep enduring the continuous torrent of abuse. I calmly moved through the flat, almost ignoring her existence, collecting the things I’d need for an overnight trip. I packed a bag and left through the flat door without exchanging further words.

The farther I drove away from Amelia, the more freedom I felt. I almost felt guilty leaving her in that state, and I had to keep reminding myself it was the right thing to do. I know I was technically in the wrong for lying to her, but when she reacted like that to something seemingly insignificant, how would she react if she found out what I’d really been up to? I felt like my decision to conceal the truth from her was vindicated. If I’d told her the real reasons I’d been so distant, I probably wouldn’t have been breathing.

I arrived at Poppy’s, and she came out to meet me in the driveway with a big hug. I hadn’t realised it, but Amelia had left bruises on my neck in the shape of her hands, and even after the long drive, I had an alarming red handprint across the left side of my face. Poppy led me inside, and her wife, Josephine, ran up to me and hugged me too.

I told them everything.

Every disgusting and foul detail. It was only when I said it out loud that I realised how bad it had gotten. If I had done this months ago, I would probably have put a stop to it, but for some reason, I was terrified of doing this. I felt like I was trapped in the marriage, and I couldn’t make a single decision for myself. Every time I tried to move the relationship in a different direction, Amelia would immediately correct me with a biting insult or a slap. Confiding to my sister and her partner the hell that Amelia was putting me through made me feel so much better. We all cried for hours as I slowly made my way through each aspect of the torture my wife was increasingly subjecting me to. I had never cried as much in my life, and the release made me start to almost feel like my old self again.

“You have to go to the police,” Poppy demanded, “she is unhinged.”

“No. I can fix this. She just needs help,” I argued.

“What if she doesn’t let go when she starts choking you next?”

“I won’t let it happen again.”

“It will happen again,” Poppy insisted.

“It won’t. I promise.”

“She sounds like she just needs help,” Josephine interjected.

“Jo, she is physically beating him and trying to choke him to death,” Poppy responded.

“I know, but some couples lose their way.”

“It’s not about that anymore! She could end up killing him!”

“They haven’t even tried counselling yet or anything. They can at least try to make it work.”

“Look at his neck, Jo! You can literally see each of her fingerprints bruised into it.”

Their argument faded out of my consciousness. They were still arguing, weighing up the pros and cons of me leaving her or ringing the police. Although neither of them had actually asked me what I wanted to do. It was the most bizarre feeling I had ever experienced; I simultaneously loved and loathed Amelia. When we were good, our marriage was amazing. But the lows were horrific; I fully agreed with that. I also felt like I had committed far too much time and energy into our relationship to just let it go. I wanted to get back to the good times. The happy times. We were amazing together, but I thought Josephine had a point; we had just lost our way.

“Oh my god. Just stop it!” I shouted.

Both Poppy and Josephine were startled by my outburst and ceased their debate immediately.

“I appreciate you both giving me your points of view, but I didn’t come here for that. I just needed to talk to someone. To be honest, I haven’t decided yet what I am going to do,” I explained.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I just hate seeing my big brother like this,” Poppy said softly.

“You don’t need to be sorry. I’d be the exact same way. Can I stay here tonight?”

“Of course you can,” Josephine said.

“I just need time to think,” I muttered.

We all hugged again, and they finally let me go upstairs by myself. I loved my sister; she had always been there for me since we were kids. Growing up with our parents was difficult, and if I were an only child, I don’t think I’d be the same man I was that day. Josephine was perfect for Poppy, and I envied their relationship. They were so supportive of each other and of each other’s families. They were even facing the same trials as us, but they had reacted to them entirely differently.

I went into the bathroom and turned the shower on. Amelia’s handprints on my neck had already started going a ripe purple colour. It was sore, too, and it still felt like she had her hands around my neck. I couldn’t place where it all went wrong for us. I found myself endlessly listing possible reasons for how we got there, and I realised that every single one of them was my fault. Or was that what I was meant to think? I didn’t know whether the thoughts I had were my own or they had been forcibly implanted in my head by Amelia.

Any sane person would have walked away from her. I knew that, but I was in love with her. It complicated things. I’d devoted my life to making her happy, and to use a financial term, I was hoping to see the return on that investment. I just wanted to wind back the clock a few years before all this started and try again. My wife, the love of my life, might still be underneath this beast she was becoming. I sat on the edge of the bath with my phone in my hand, searching for couples’ therapists or counsellors who could help. There were plenty of alcoholic groups we could go to that would help her with the drink. I started to feel hopeful until I realised I would have to pitch these to Amelia before she would actually go. That in itself felt like a monumental task.

I hadn’t slept that well for a while. I didn’t know whether it was because Amelia wasn’t beside me or because I’d finally got the abuse off my chest. Nothing had been sorted out officially yet; it just felt good that I was making positive steps in the right direction. Poppy knew now, at least, and I felt so much better unburdening myself of it all. My strength had returned, and I started feeling like I could take on the world again.

It might have been a mistake, but I decided that I would stick it out and at least try to fix the issues. I owed the marriage that, right? Maybe with a bit of external help, we could get back on track and be in the relationship that we always wanted. I didn’t know how I would approach it with Amelia, but I’d have to make her understand that if we didn’t go down that road, the marriage would be over. If it was going to work, I had to take the strength I’d found in Filey back home with me. 

I just hoped I wasn’t kidding myself.

XII

THE MAGICIAN