“Listen, I’m sorry for what happened,” Amelia sighed, putting down her knife and fork, “but you gave as good as you got.”
“Excuse me?”
“This,” she said, pointing at her face, “I thought you’d broken it.”
“I was trying to stop you from breaking my finger.”
Amelia stood from the table, walked over to my right-hand side, delicately clasped my injured hand and inspected my finger closely.
“Is it broken?” she asked, with an overly dramatic pitying look across her face.
“I think so. The swelling won’t go down. I’ve not had time to get it looked at.”
“You don’t need to do that. Stay there, and I’ll get you some ice.”
Amelia left the dining room for a minute to go and fetch the ice. I did think about getting up and striding out of the house, but her whole demeanour was totally alien to me, and to be honest, I was somewhat curious about what she had to say. She returned with this facial expression, copied directly from a 1960s dutiful housewife, knelt down next to me and tentatively placed the ice on my finger. She moved her attention from my finger and looked up directly into my eyes.
“I went to the clinic today,” she announced.
“What for? I didn’t think we had an appointment until next week.”
“I moved it,” she started, standing up above me again and touching her stomach, “they did another implantation. I could be pregnant with your child right now.”
If Amelia was pregnant, it wasn’t a child in there. It was a hostage. She had felt me slipping away and outmanoeuvred me. At that moment, I knew I was never going to get away from her, not cleanly, anyway. Across her face she had a beaming smile that one would typically find on a woman who was pleased she was pregnant, but I saw it a different way. It was a smile of victory. She knew that I wouldn’t leave her if she was pregnant with my child. The only was I was going to get away from this vapid and abusive woman was to plan carefully and play her at her own game.
“That’s great news,” I smiled deceitfully.
“Oh, Harry. You are going to be a dad this time. I can feel it,” Amelia beamed, grabbing both my cheeks and kissing me passionately, “we can put all this unpleasantness behind us and finally enjoy each other.”
“I agree.”
“And I promise no more alcohol. I can’t be drinking if I’m in the family way.”
“That’s good.”
“Now come on, eat up; it took me hours to prepare all this,” Amelia said, picking up her knife and fork.
I felt like an actor in a play. Having already lost my appetite, I unwillingly started to eat Amelia the cheesiest grin I could muster. The mask had slipped, and suddenly, everything she did, even something as mundane as eating, seemed sinister. She sawed the steak open with her knife and stabbed the pieces with her fork. Then she drowned the roast potatoes with the peppercorn sauce before she crushed them, like she did to me, prior to eating. Even though I was trapped in this abusive marriage, to say the least, the fact that I could see who Amelia was for the first time was very liberating. I’d do what I always did, strive to give her everything she wanted, but behind her back, I would be covertly planning my long-overdue escape plan.
Amelia chatted about the future and suggested baby names all evening. I laughed at her jokes. I forcedly reciprocated all her poisonous kisses. I stood behind an emotional mirror, reflecting everything she did to me back at her, desperate to just walk out of there and never return. But I didn’t. I continued the charade, and as soon as she got tired and went to sleep, I started looking for somewhere to escape.
I couldn’t afford anything in Manchester without selling the house or committing even more fraud. It broke my heart, but if I had to give up my dream job to get away from this situation, I would. I found a flat in Filey, right near the seafront. It was a huge step down from where I was living right now, but I wouldn’t mind coming down in the world so long as my whereabouts remained unknown to Amelia. I sent the estate agent an email asking for a viewing as soon as possible. It would be like a safe haven from her, at least until I could find something more permanent.
I went upstairs and into the bedroom. Amelia was out for the count, sleeping like a baby with her back to my side of the bed. I crept over and pulled back the covers slowly to get inside. The disturbance was enough to wake her slightly, and she turned to put her arm around me. Just the warmth of her skin was enough to turn my stomach and make me shudder in disgust.
The next morning, I continued the gruelling pantomime until I got in the car for work. Amelia was standing on the porch, waving me off. I played along, smiled, and pulled a silly face as I drove away. Part of me wondered if she knew exactly what I was plotting behind her back, but in truth, I didn’t even know that myself. I just had to get out of there and ensure that she wouldn’t come looking for me after I did. Once I’d been driving for a few minutes, I stopped the car and pulled up on the curb. I exhaled loudly and started hyperventilating. I’d felt as if I had held my breath the entire time I was in that house with her. I could finally breathe again, and I took out my phone. The estate agent replied that they were happy to allow me to view the property. I called in sick at work, citing my finger as the excuse, and began the long drive to Filey.
The estate agent had arranged to meet me outside the block of flats. They didn’t look anything like the photographs online; they were decaying and dingy. I spotted someone who looked like they could be the estate agent, and they waved at me as I parked the car.
“Harry?” she asked.
“Yes, is it Leah?” I replied.
“It is! I’m here to show you around. Have you seen the pictures online?”
“I have, let’s get to it, shall we?”
“Follow me!”
As soon as I walked through the entrance, a combination of humidity and grime wafted into my nostrils. Leah didn’t seem bothered by the smell. She simply continued smiling brightly and led me up the stairs to flat fifteen. She unlocked the door, and thankfully, the smell hadn’t already drifted inside. It was basic, ugly and barely functional. But it was perfect. Even if Amelia found out about this unsightly place, I doubt she would even get past the smell downstairs.
“Gas and electricity are included. So is water. If you want the internet, there is a surcharge. What do you think?” Leah asked.
“I’ll take it,” I announced.
Within the hour, I’d signed the paperwork, and I had the set of keys for my very own secret flat. I had done it on impulse, but I urgently needed somewhere to escape to. It was imperative that Amelia should never find out about this place. If she broke my finger when she found out that I’d been appointed an assistant; she would then surely kill me if she ever discovered this place. I went out to Filey town and did some shopping. Essentials really, toiletries and some clothes in case I needed to stay here in an emergency. I also got a burner phone on a whim. I had no idea why I would need it, but it seemed like it might be useful if I were planning to vanish into thin air.
I sat on the sofa in my new flat and felt like I could finally see a way out. I just had to play the game for a few weeks. For the first time since we started trying for a child, I prayed that the latest IVF implantation was proven to be unsuccessful. Once we had the sad news, I could finally leave her and be done with our poisonous marriage. If the attempt was successful, it wouldn’t bear thinking about. It would undoubtedly compound things further, and I wasn’t the kind of man who could leave his child, especially in her care.
Once I was happy that everything was in place, I took the spare key and drove to the bank where I had an account in Leeds. I had a deposit box there. I used to keep a paper ledger with all the money I had ‘borrowed’ from pension funds. I’d store the spare keys there in case of emergencies. By the time I had arrived back in Manchester, I still had a few hours left to kill before I could go home without arousing suspicion, so I decided to call into work and keep up the pretence.
When I walked out of the lift, Kim looked at me like I was a ghost. I’d forgotten to get in touch with her and tell her where I was that day and, more importantly, that I was okay. God knows what she thought had happened to me, and I felt terrible when I saw the intense concern on her face.
“Harry! I thought—” she started.
“I’m so sorry, Kim. It’s been a busy day.”
I took Kim into my office and brought her up to speed. She approved of my plan in principle and offered me her help if I needed it. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel like old times; we never had closure after what had happened, and we kind of just drifted apart. Maybe if I’d accepted Kim’s help when Dad died, things would have been different. She was amazing. I hadn’t seen her in years, and she was right there for me when I needed her. I’d made a lot of mistakes in my life, but Kim was never one of them.
