Broken (26 page)

‘But you had a chance to find out about her baby, didn't you?' Jake
had now turned side on and was no longer paying any attention to the television. Just staring at her. ‘Yet you really expect me to believe that she showed up here and never even asked why you were living here and not at home, and what'd happened between us?'

‘Of
course
she asked.' Mattie changed tack, thinking quickly. ‘But I just said we had a few things we were working out, that we were still
together
. Naturally. And then when Courtney got dropped off, it just reinforced everything. Our
cooperation
. And that was it.'

‘What a load of shit,' said Jake conversationally. He picked up his glass, drained his wine and then stood. ‘I'm getting a refill. You?'

‘No thanks,' replied Mattie in a small voice. As Jake left the room, she stared at the man on the screen, now at the bottom of the cliff holding a handful of sandy-coloured dirt which he was showing to the camera. He made a fist and the dirt crumbled out between his fingers and fell to the ground.

Jake came back into the room, and stood just inside the doorway, holding his glass of wine out in front. The newly enlarged and framed photos of Max and Courtney were on the wall to his left, and his face was in perfect alignment with theirs. The three of them in a row. Her family. Jake stayed there, staring at Mattie with a pensive look. She could see him in her peripheral vision but didn't turn, pretending instead to be enthralled by the television. After a few minutes her eyes started to hurt with the effort required to concentrate on the periphery without changing focus.

‘I'm not sure what's the most insulting,' said Jake suddenly, still in the friendly, conversational tone he'd used earlier. ‘That you talk about me behind my back or that you treat me like a fucking idiot.'

Mattie turned to him, beseechingly. ‘I
didn't
. You
have
to believe me.'

‘Well, I don't. Sorry.'

‘Then I don't know how I can convince you.' Mattie shook her head miserably, knowing that the collision was now inevitable. Her organs knotted with dread and the little wine she'd drunk surged in her gullet sickeningly.

‘You can't,' Jake drained his wine and then held the empty flute up and let it go. It fell straight to the carpet, where it rolled to the side of one of his runners but didn't break. Mattie watched, as if hypnotised, as
he lifted his foot up and brought the runner down on the glass, hard. It broke with a sharp crack and Jake ground down on the pieces, crushing them into the carpet.

When only the stem remained intact amongst the finely ground shards, Jake walked slowly over to the couch and stood in front of her, looking down. Mattie stared ahead, at eye-level, at his crotch, and was suddenly filled with the urge to reach out and grab his genitals viciously through the denim and pull, twist, tear, with all her might. And not let go even when he fell to the ground, writhing in agony and begging her to stop.
Please, please, Mattie. I'll do anything. Anything
.

But she didn't. Instead, Jake reached down, wound his fingers through her hair and then clenched his fist, bringing the strands of hair together and stretching them out painfully. Mattie gasped and grabbed upwards automatically with both hands, trying to prise his fingers loose. But the grip was tight, and absolutely inflexible.

Jake waited a few moments while she tried ineffectually to tug his hand loose, and then started to walk backwards away from the couch. Mattie first fell to her knees, now batting at his hand desperately, and then scrabbled alongside him, trying to keep her head as close to his hand as possible so that the pain was not as intense. Once in motion, Jake turned quickly, twisting her hair even more savagely, and walked determinedly across the carpet towards the kitchen doorway, dragging Mattie alongside him.

By the time they got there, she was crying and pleading in one long low litany without pause. ‘No no please Jake no don't do it please no don't don't please.'

Jake stopped just before the doorway and, with one decisive downward thrust, pushed her towards the broken glass with the hand still entwined through her hair. Mattie was now sprawled full-length on the carpet, finally letting go of his fist so that she could use both hands to push against the carpet with all her might, desperately trying to keep her face away from the glass. Jake pushed harder as she strained hopelessly against his hand, and the shards came closer and closer until they were only an inch away, magnified by the proximity and glistening sharply amongst the brown carpet threads.

Then suddenly he stopped his pressure and her head immediately shot upwards with the momentum. But when it hit his hand, which was still clenched within her hair, he punched his fist down at an angle into her skull and propelled her sideways, just clear of the glass but still onto the carpet. The pain was intense, an exploding nucleus which, for just a few moments, took over her entire consciousness and coloured it crimson. While it lasted, she simply lay there, unable to respond or even to move. Then, just as the crimson tide started to abate, she felt his hand again as it pushed down and almost immediately her face was being ground into the carpet with an implacable strength that seemed almost inhuman. Mattie spluttered and gagged against the overwhelming musty smell of the old carpet, even while she felt its fibres embed themselves into her flesh. She tried to jackknife herself enough to turn her head and draw breath, just one breath, but only her body moved, flailing, while her head remained rigidly held, with her face squashed so hard against the carpet that it seemed her only hope was for the floor to break apart with the pressure. Then he kicked her once, in the side, and finally let go.

Mattie rolled, still gagging, and curled into a foetal position. Her skull throbbed and when she put a hand up to touch it, her fingers came away with strands of dark brown hair clinging to them. She knew that Jake was still standing over her, and she knew that he was waiting for her to look at him. But she refused to give him that pleasure. It wasn't much, but at least it was something.

The whole episode had probably only taken a few minutes, at most, although it felt like hours. A few minutes in which Jake had said not one thing, not even in answer to her pleas. But Mattie knew that would change, very shortly, and she didn't know what was worse – the physical pain and humiliation, or the emotional beating that was about to commence.

‘Look at you. You're
pathetic
. Absolutely
pathetic.'
Jake's voice was thick, viscous – a stranger's. Not her Jake, her husband, her friend – just some stranger who, once started, couldn't stop. Firing broadsides one after the other and knowing that at least some of them would hit home.

‘Piece of
scum
.
Gar
bage.'

‘You don't
deserve
those kids.'

‘I should get them up to see you like this. Show them what you're
really
like.'

‘Or better still, I should take them
away
from you. Give them a fucking chance.'

‘World's worst mother. World's worst
wife.'

‘Selfish
bitch
. Liar, whore. Pathetic
scum.'

Mattie flinched each time his voice rose, but she stayed where she was, with her eyes open just enough to get some warning if he moved. His runners were about ten inches away from her face and she had her hands ready to protect it in case he kicked out. Then the verbal tirade stopped suddenly, with the last
scum
, and Mattie tensed even more. Waiting. She knew he was staring at her. She could feel his eyes burning into her flesh.

Then he started again, and this time he emphasised his point every few words with a kick to her leg and stomach region. ‘You know what you are?'
Kick
. ‘A leech.'
Kick
. ‘A fucking leech.'
Kick
. ‘First off me, now off the government.'
Kick
. ‘So you sit here and reckon you're independent.'
Kick
. ‘But in the end I'm still paying for you, aren't I?'
Kick
. ‘Me and all the other taxpayers trying to do the right thing.'
Kick
. ‘But instead we're supporting whores like you.'
Kick
. ‘Who want their fucking cake and eat it too.'
Kick, kick, kick
.

By now Mattie had curled up even more tightly, with her hands pressed against her face and her elbows in front of her stomach, warding off the blows. She grunted each time Jake's foot connected but did not cry out, very conscious of the children only a few metres away behind their bedroom door. The smell of the carpet was growing even more disgusting, a dusty suffocating stink that only added to her misery.

For the second time the verbal flow stopped and, as seconds slid by, Mattie started to pray that it was over. Finally she heard his footsteps move away, into the kitchen, and she opened her eyes, quickly, to see if he was standing in the doorway. He wasn't, so Mattie scrambled to her feet, and backed away until she was standing against the front door. Her head throbbed painfully and her arms and knees ached from the
force of the kicks. She took a deep lungful of the clean air and saw, by the kitchen doorway, clumps of her hair scattered over the carpet, near the glass shards and the wineglass stem. When she noticed the stem, Mattie dived forward and, in one rapid movement, picked it up and threw it behind the couch before jumping back into position.

Jake came in just as she was straightening up and stared at her suspiciously. He glanced around and then narrowed his eyes at her. ‘What did you do?'

‘Got up,' said Mattie in an unfamiliar croak.

‘And?'

‘And nothing else.'

‘Come here.'

‘No.'

‘I said come here.'

‘Jake, I really –'

‘I didn't ask for a fucking conversation.' Jake's eyes no longer glittered but were flat, like dulled marbles. ‘I said come here.'

Mattie moved forward, hesitantly, maintaining eye contact as she came across the carpet. She stopped when she was about three feet away and stood still, swaying slightly with apprehension. He put his head on one side and regarded her thoughtfully. Then he slowly nodded as if he had seen something that provided confirmation of whatever he was thinking.

‘I'm going to do something I should've done a long time ago,' Jake announced, his voice not as thick as it had been, but still not normal. ‘I'm going to do my kids a favour.'

‘A favour?' repeated Mattie, the words drying up in her throat.

‘Yes. A
huge
favour.' Jake smiled at her, a smile that stretched his mouth but went nowhere near the non-negotiable eyes. Then he reached out, quickly, and grabbed her by both shoulders, pulling her across the kitchen doorway at the same time as he thrust her backwards, so that she ended up flat against the short wall between the kitchen and the passage, staring at him, terrified.

‘Jake,' Mattie shook her head rapidly. ‘We can work this out. We can –'

‘We can work this out,' Jake mimicked her voice, with an exaggeratedly high pitch.

‘We
can
. Remember what we spoke about the other day?'

‘All lies.' Jake looked at her, and real hate flashed in his eyes. ‘You never intended coming back. Not from the moment you left. It was all lies. All fucking lies.'

‘No, it
wasn't
. It –' But Mattie didn't get to finish. Instead Jake, still holding on to her shoulders, whipped her forward and, sliding his hands quickly around her throat, lifted her and slammed her back against the wall at the same time, so that her feet left the ground and the back of her head smashed against the framed portrait of Max, cracking the glass. She screamed, involuntarily, and then all sound was cut off as he started to choke her.

Mattie struggled fiercely, ripping at his hands and clawing them with her nails. Her feet drummed against the wall, making the plaster vibrate all the way up to her head, and her eyes protruded with a fear so pure and intense that it throbbed through her temples, pushing against her skin and threatening to explode. And Jake's face hung only a foot away, grim with concentration as his hands squeezed, and her throat constricted. And then everything started to blur and she got double vision – two Jakes, four eyes, twice the pain, twice the fear. Her mouth gaped, trying to get air, and suddenly, in amongst the pulsations within her head came the astounding thought that this could be it. Who would have thought he was capable of
this?
It could all end here, at Jake's hands, and the children would be alone. And as this last thought winged its way behind her bulging eyes, she mustered the last of her strength and, using the wall for leverage, she kicked out, with all her might. And connected.

She was free. Falling to the floor in a heap, gasping for breath, her muscles now flaccid with relief. So flaccid that she felt a warm rush of urine course down the inside of her tracksuit pants and realised, foggily, that she'd actually wet herself. With a huge effort, Mattie forced her head up to see what was happening. And there, in front of her, crouching over and clutching his crotch, was Jake. He staggered to one knee and dry-retched.

Bullseye, thought Mattie, but with no sense of victory. She wondered, vaguely, how much time she had before he recovered and killed her for this. Fear shot through her and brought with it a determination to escape, so she reached out, using the wall as support to get to her feet. Once up, she started edging towards the front door and, when she was nearly there, she looked back to see Jake staring straight at her, his gaze so venomous that she stumbled and almost fell. But she grabbed out, snagged the doorknob and held herself up, still looking back into the room. Watching Jake take a deep breath and straighten, slowly. This gave her the drive she needed, and she turned, scrabbling at the doorknob urgently to try and make it turn. But her very desperation made her clumsy and the knob slipped within her sweat-slicked hands.