Going Up and Going Down (10 page)

Not
surprisingly, I didn’t sleep the rest of that night after Anthony had raped me.
I showered, I scrubbed at my body and I sobbed. I lay on the bed breaking my
heart and there was no one to care. The people who
would
care couldn’t
ever know about this. My plans of two years ago for my future were ruined, as
they had been for a while. Even though the last few months had been hell for
me, I was devastated, and shocked at what Anthony had become. My whole body
pained me. I felt dirty in the most horrible way that a woman could – forever
tainted…and cheap! I had no reason to feel cheap! I never heard another sound
from him. I didn’t know where he was, whether he had gone downstairs or back to
his bed. I knew I wasn’t leaving my room until I was absolutely certain that he
had left the house.

Fortunately I
didn’t have to wait too long. I heard his car pull out of the drive about 9.15.
I’d already been tiptoeing around the bedroom, packing a bag. I’d vomited –
copiously for the last 2 hours. I was desperate for coffee - something to eat
and drink, thinking it might settle my stomach, but I wanted to be out. Just in
case he wasn’t gone for long, and happened to return before I’d seized the
chance to be gone. I grabbed my bag, ran down the stairs and within two minutes
of him driving away, I was in my car and pulling out of the drive, screeching
tyres as I sped down the street. I headed in the direction of home. Mum and Dad
were away for their anniversary – cruising. They’d be somewhere in the middle
of the Indian Ocean for three weeks. I wouldn’t have wanted to arrive at their
house in my physical and emotional state if they had been at home. I would
hopefully have plenty of time to sort myself out; they’d been gone only days.

When I arrived
at their house and let myself in, I made coffee and some toast and took it
upstairs to my old bedroom. I sat on the dressing table stool whilst I drank my
coffee - just staring at myself in the mirror. The swelling around my eye and
the upper part of my cheek looked angry. The blackness was coming out and I
looked a mess. I wasn’t only looking at my physical injury. I was inspecting
myself, trying to delve deep under my skin. I was looking for a sign - any sign
that gave me a reason as to why – why my husband would rape me, hit me, and
leave me in this state. What had I ever done to warrant this kind of behaviour
from him? Had I really deserved all that I’d got? I couldn’t think of anything,
but perhaps other people could see something in me that I wasn’t able to!

After finishing
with my breakfast I lay down on the bed and started thinking about what to do.
I couldn’t report it to the police. I couldn’t put myself through that. Hell, I
couldn’t put my parents through it. What this could do to my father with his
heart problems was not a thought I wanted to dwell on. The only thing I knew
for certain was that I could not go in to work looking like this on Monday
morning. First thing on the list to do Monday morning, I had to phone Ted.

I had drifted
off to sleep at some point and when I woke up it was 4pm. For a few seconds I
wondered what I was doing there. Smacked in the face again by reality when the
memories returned, a fresh flow of tears rolled. I felt a sudden urge to shower
again and I all but tore the clothes from by body. Once under the almost
scalding water I frenziedly scrubbed at myself for ages until my skin was
almost raw.

All the time I
had been in my bedroom, the only item I had managed to get on my agenda was to
phone Ted Hopkins the next morning. I was relieved that my parents had a well-stocked
freezer. I had no desire to go out for shopping. I didn’t want to see the
stares and questioning glances from people if they caught a glimpse of my eye.
I fixed something to eat and made a point of writing down the items I used from
their freezer. I would replace everything like for like before they returned
home. I didn’t even want them to know I had been staying. Dad hadn’t been too
well before they’d gone away and I wasn’t going to add to their worries.

I think work
was behind it, but he always kept things like that from Mum and I. Anthony
probably would have been the person to ask if everything was alright at the
office, but at the minute I couldn’t even contemplate asking him. I would have
to go back to our marital home sooner or later but I wasn’t relishing the
thought. He had never hurt me when he’d been sober before and I’d seen him drunk
on plenty of occasions and never been hurt by him, so why was last night any
different? Could he have been cross because I had stayed out late and not let
him know? I quickly talked myself out of that thought though. He didn’t usually
give a shit where I was. He didn’t communicate with me if he decided he was
staying out late and there were many times when he had stayed out all night. I
never questioned him anymore, I didn’t need to. We were not a couple – it
didn’t interest me where he was. He usually gave an explanation when I next saw
him – like I cared! Since the day I found him with his rent boy in our house, I
hadn’t bothered. I always told myself that he was probably somewhere in a gay
bar searching for his twenty pound blow job.

I tried
shutting out my thoughts for the rest of the evening, by pouring myself a glass
of wine and putting a film on TV, but whilst looking at the screen the film
rolled on unwatched. All I could see was a rape scene repeatedly playing in
front of me – with myself as the victim, time and again. I sat in silence,
replenishing my glass periodically, carrying on drinking in an attempt to blot
out the events of…was it really just hours ago, that same morning? Bleary eyed
from drink and my tears, I pulled my legs up onto the settee…and slept.

Gillian
answered the phone when I called the office and she wanted to chit chat about
Saturday night. I snuffled and sniffled into the mouth piece,

“Listen,
Gillian, can you please offer my apologies to Ted? I’m feeling rough. I think
I’m getting the flu, I ache all over and I’m really not up to it.”

“Gosh yes, you
do sound a little snotty, Helen, I hope you feel loads better soon. Oh Hell, we
were all out together on Saturday night. I hope you’ve kept it to yourself,
honey, but I’ll warn the girls. You get back to bed and stay warm. Dose
yourself up.” Her obvious concern for my welfare left me feeling guilty for
lying, but how could I let them know the true reason for my absence?

“If anybody
should want me urgently, Gillian, get them to ring my mobile please. I’m
staying at Mum and Dad’s, Anthony’s away for a few days on business.”

“You’ve done
the right thing honey, getting the oldies to look after you - you’ll soon be
better. Keep us informed. Now, go to bed!” I’d mentioned a few weeks back that
my parents were going on an anniversary holiday, but she’d assumed…I didn’t
correct her.

The only reason
I sounded snotty was I was crying yet again. I hated lying to Gillian and the
other girls. Well no, I wasn’t really lying to them. I was being economical
with the truth. They thought I was happily married and for the time being,
there was no reason for them to know anything else. They would be horrified if
they could see the state of me. I stayed off work for the full week and when
Saturday morning came around, I thought I would pop back home to get some more
of my make-up, and some clothes that would be more suitable for my return to
work on Monday. Anthony would be at the golf course so I wouldn’t have him to
contend with. I wasn’t too concerned about his car being in the drive when I
pulled up. He was picked up by one of his friends every other week, and it was
clearly not Anthony’s week to drive. Letting myself in through the back door I
could hear music, maybe from the television. I’d hoped he wasn’t going to be in
and my whole body stiffened. I was genuinely scared of coming face to face with
him – my rapist.

It was like a
scene I remembered from a movie I’d watched years ago. Three motionless figures
- two were laid in uncomfortable looking positions on the lounge floor, one of
them a man wearing nothing but a tee-shirt. Another was sprawled full length on
the settee, his mouth wide open emitting gurgling noises in the back of his
throat. As my eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness I could see that one of the
people on the floor was female, bare-breasted, her skirt up around her waist
and her genitals on display. I was livid. I stepped over them and flung the
lounge curtains wide open, ignoring their reactions. Daylight streaming in, my
eyes were drawn to the coffee table. There were some specks of white powder on
the glass top which vaguely indicated where the cocaine had been in lines. A
pack of drinking straws was opened, half a dozen of which were scattered, bent
up on the floor. Three or four bottles of various spirits were half empty. Beer
and lager cans were strewn around. A loud snore from him drew my eyes back to
the guy on the settee. It was Anthony’s friend Paul, a fellow golfer.

The moans and
groans of his house guests didn’t deter me from stomping up the stairs to see
just how many had been partying last night. First port of call was my bedroom
and I prayed that nobody had been screwing in, or been sick in it. A quick
glance revealed it had been untouched since he’d raped me in there the previous
week. I closed the door on it quickly, needing to focus on what I was doing
next and to evade those memories that sought to engulf me once more. Opening
the door of the spare next, again to semi-darkness, I could just make out two
male and one female form spread-eagled across the double bed. All were in
various stages of undress and seemingly dead to the world, either through
drink, drugs or a combination of both. There was an open condom packet laid on
the bedside cabinet, but the unused condom had fallen to the floor. Perhaps
they’d all been incapable of unrolling it onto an erect penis, or maybe there
hadn’t been an erect penis….which wouldn’t surprise judging by the amount of
alcohol that had obviously been consumed by them, and that was without taking
into account the drug usage.

I didn’t bother
them with a greeting. I doubted even one of them would have woken from their
heavily intoxicated sleep. I slammed the door without a care as to whether I
disturbed them or not. Crossing the landing towards Anthony’s bedroom I
realised that there was nothing that man could do now that would surprise me.
When I flung open his door I wasn’t even taken aback that he was in bed with
two females, both naked and Anthony in the middle, also naked, mouth wide open and
snoring loudly. The two girls stirred in their sleep and one of them, short
blonde hair and I guess about twentyish, suddenly sat bolt upright.

“Who the hell
are you?” she asked in a defensive tone.

“Me? Oh, don’t
worry about me. I’m only Anthony’s wife. Not that it’s any concern of yours. We
live separate lives.” I watched her face waiting for a reaction but there
wasn’t one. “I would say your biggest worry at the moment is: do you actually
know where that dick has been?” I paused a few seconds, giving her time to try
and digest my question,

“Yes! That
dick!” (I indicated my sleeping husband), “The one that was obviously stuck
into the both of you last night?” She raised her eyebrows, starting to wake up
a little faster than anyone normally would. I recognized the flash of panic in
her eyes. “Shall I tell you where it’s been?” I didn’t wait for her affirmative
before carrying on “Not so many weeks ago that dick was shagging a young man up
the arse. Who knows what you might have… just…food for thought!” She leaned
across Anthony and poked her friend, who had drifted back to sleep, in the
ribs.

“Emma! Emma,
come on! Let’s get out of here, now! This guy apparently doesn’t care…Emma,
come on! This is his wife. We need to go, wake up!” Emma was fully alert in no
time, panic showing in her eyes also. They both sat on the edge of the bed
looking for their clothes in the half light. Anthony was still oblivious. I
left them to it and returned to my bedroom. I threw a few clothes into my suit
carrier, grabbed a few more toiletries out of the en-suite, and headed back
down the stairs. The bodies in the lounge were still comatose, so I passed
through to the kitchen, slamming doors behind me in my anger. I grabbed a few
favourite tid-bits out of the kitchen cupboards and the fridge and quickly
stuffed them in a carrier bag. Before I was finished, Emma and her friend
(shagging partner for want of a better word) came tearing through the
kitchen…obviously in a rush to get away. They cast me a quick glance before
lowering their eyes. They were going to leave without saying anything so I just
couldn’t resist.

“Think
carefully about who you sleep with in the future girls. No condoms spells
unwanted preg…” Emma’s friend cut me off mid-sentence,

“We’re both on
the pill and...” I had to stop her right there, and I jumped in quick.

“Oh, I’m
pleased to hear it, I’m sure. What about sexually transmitted diseases; AIDS…HIV?
Have you considered those…little matters?” They exchanged stupefied looks and I
eased up on them, knowing I had those same matters to attend to. I lowered my
voice this time. “I’d get yourselves checked over if I were you. As I said…you
don’t know where that dick’s been.”

They cast me
one final glance and were gone. I finished my grocery stealing and locked the
door behind me. I passed the two girls hurrying further down the street, but I
didn’t feel it appropriate to offer them a lift anywhere. They’d got themselves
into their own mess. Hopefully they would learn something from it.

There was only
a slight yellow tinge to my eye by the time I woke up on Monday morning. After
I’d applied my make-up nobody would ever know that I’d had a black eye. The
staff showed such concern as I walked through reception, accounts and into my
own office.

“Are you over
the flu, Helen? Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” “You should have taken a
few days longer.” and “You still look a bit peaky pale.”