Inseparable Bond (61 page)

Jennifer spent
most of the morning cleaning around the kitchen and the two
upstairs bathrooms as George read his morning paper, which he had
retrieved from the letterbox.

As she
frantically wiped the front lounge windowsill, she shrieked and
quickly stepped back, suddenly occurring to her that George must
have heard her shriek and capture her expression of surprise most
precisely.

‘What’s the
matter, dear?’ he said, looking over the top of his newspaper.

Jennifer had
to think quickly as George folded his paper and quickly came over
to her. She stepped away from the window as George placed his hands
on her thin shoulders.

‘I’ve just
scratched myself on one of the Christmas tree needles,’ she said.
Jennifer felt so nervous as George sat her down as he inspected her
arms for any abrasions, rubbing them gently with his hand. She
breathed in and out very slowly and deeply several times, her body
shaking with fear.

‘I can’t see
any marks,’ he said, looking closely along the skin of her thin
arms.

‘Oh, it’s
nothing, it just startled me,’ she said, confidently and
reassuringly.

As she had
looked up from the windowsill, she had noticed a portly man dressed
in a heavy black coat, his face hidden under a peaked cap with
flaps over his ears and a cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth
as he ambled along the cliff path, looking over the fences and up
and down the row of substantial detached houses, trying to peer
through the lounge windows over the large front gardens.

As he looked
over the fence at the house next door, he lifted his head slowly as
his eyes reached the top of the building. The face which was
revealed was that of her brother.

‘You’re
shaking like a leaf, dear,’ he said, passionately kissing her thin
arm. He went through to the kitchen for some antiseptic cream,
which they kept in a drawer.

She fearfully
returned to the window, keeping out of sight behind the large,
heavily decorated Christmas tree. She sighed with relief, which
seemed to run down her small body as John had vanished out of
sight. Her heart still beating loudly as she returned to her
chair.

George
returned with the cream, rubbing it slowly over her arm, looking
pensive and concerned, yet he had been unable to identify the
slightest of abrasions on her skin.

‘Oh, that
feels better already,’ she said, lifting her head, smiling
appreciatively. She remained nervous and unsettled for the rest of
the morning, slyly peering over her shoulder at the window as
George continued to read his newspaper.

She casually
walked upstairs to afford her a better view as she precariously
peered up and down the cliff path from the bedroom window. She
quickly drew the curtains, running along the corridor and into the
other front bedroom to draw the curtains also.

The properties
on the south cliff were residential housing of large and imposing
buildings. All shops, amusements, pubs and clubs were situated
either in the town centre or in the north cliff area. She quickly
realised that John’s sudden appearance could only be for the
intention of seeking the house where she lived.

She kept the
lights low as they watched the television, unable to draw the
lounge curtains due to the Christmas tree, which filled the bay
window. She remained nervous all evening but fortunately the large
tree, which she had first criticised and bitterly complained about,
had turned out to be a good investment blocking the view of the
interior of the room from the outside pathway.

She had not
expected such an eventuality, frantically getting up and down from
her chair peering through the window into the darkness of the night
as George watched television inhaling the smoke of his small cigar,
which was expelled back through his nose.

Making another
excuse to George, she left the house immediately after breakfast
and walked briskly through town and up to the top floor of the
house. She knocked on John’s door, listening to movement from
inside as he slowly opened the door.

His eyes were
red and dull, his hair dishevelled and greasy. A thick growth of
stubble covered his chin after days of not shaving. He smiled at
her, showing yellowing teeth as he opened the door just wide enough
for her to push her small body through.

The lounge
smelt of stale cigarette smoke. Empty beer cans were thrown around
and the ashtray brimmed over with cigarette stubs. The carpet was
heavily stained and burnt where cigarettes had been stamped out.
The room was dark with the curtains closed. The plants Jennifer had
so carefully selected were now dead and various items of dirty
clothes had been casually discarded and littered the floor.

The bedroom
was in equally poor condition. The dirty sheets had been
haphazardly thrown over the mattress. The smell of unwashed clothes
and dirty socks was overpowering. An ashtray by the bed was full of
cigarette ends and a tube of lubricating jelly and baby oil lay by
the side of the bed, evidence of sexual activity.

The bath was
stained with a thick residue line halfway up the inside. Dirty
towels stank and the toilet had not been flushed from his morning’s
ablutions.

The kitchen
was in an indescribable condition as he washed two dirty mugs under
the tap as the kettle boiled.

Jennifer
looked around in disgust, making no attempt to assist as she sat
down at the kitchen table.

He placed the
coffee cups on the table. Jennifer looked around the kitchen and
directed her large eyes at what she saw now was a most arrogant
face on John.

‘I know the
place looks a mess and I shan’t protest my innocence, I’ve already
done that quite enough in my life,’ he said, lighting up the
remaining half of a cigarette.

‘The flat
looks disgraceful,’ Jennifer said, looking over her shoulder at the
full sink.

‘So, that’s
not your problem, I don’t have to explain myself to you. I’ve spent
most of my life being told what to do, so mind your own fucking
business,’ he said sharply.

‘How dare you
speak to me in that way, you have shown nothing but discontent and
arrogance since you were released from prison, you are the most
ungrateful person I have ever met,’ she said, her hands shaking
with anger.

‘Grateful for
what? You have done fuck all for me, I should have gone to stay
with Tommy Hayes in Bradford,’ he shouted.

Who is Tommy
Hayes?’ she asked.

‘He got
released the same day as I did. He’s a great guy and good fun, not
like you, in your fancy house with your fancy man,’ he shouted
loudly, his eyes wide with rage as he banged his fist heavily on
the kitchen table.

‘Why are you
treating me this way? What has happened to you? You would never
have spoken to me this way, what did they do to you in that
prison?’ she asked, tears rolling down her face, and her tiny hands
shaking with fear and anger. Jennifer slowly stood up from her
chair and grabbed her handbag from the table as she made her way to
the kitchen door.

John Bell
leaped at her, treading brutally and deliberately on her tiny feet,
then his hand swept round, hitting her so hard across the head that
she fell to the floor. He dragged her to her knees and put both
hands under her armpits, propping her against the table as though
she were a rag doll, and hit her again, across the face this time,
first on the right cheek and then on the left. Jennifer fell to the
floor, her teeth rattled in her head as she screamed and tried
desperately to fight back.

She felt
another punishing blow, this time in the stomach, and she folded
up, groaning. She managed to crawl to the door at the end of the
hall. He followed her, breathing heavily. She managed to get
herself to her feet and opened the door. She whimpered, but he
grabbed her by her thinning hair and slammed her viciously on the
back of her head as he pushed her out onto the landing and slammed
the door behind her.

She struggled
down the main stairs, desperate to get away from the flat and
hurried to the large front door of the house until she entered the
street. She ran hysterically down the high street towards the
harbour. People moved out of her way as she hastily pushed past
them, tears rolling down her face.

She reached
the harbour, sitting on the first bench she found, bending her head
down to her knees as her tiny hands covered her ears. She was
shaking hysterically, clutching her stomach when he had violently
kicked her. She sat there for a few minutes trying to console
herself after the unprovoked attack. Her face was sickly pale,
almost green as she hugged her torn blouse around her.

She made her
way back along the promenade, up the steep hill hanging onto the
handrail as she dragged her aching body to the house.

Fortunately,
George had gone to the Bowling Club Christmas luncheon at the Grand
Hotel and wouldn’t be back before six. Molly wasn’t due in today,
which avoided her giving anyone the embarrassing explanation of how
she looked.

Jennifer went
to her bedroom and quickly undressed as her hands and body still
shook after her ordeal. She looked down at herself. Her arms were
already turning purple and her tiny feet were black where he had
stepped on them. She looked in the mirror and noticed one eye was
half closed and her lip felt like a throbbing cushion. She noticed
a small cut on her forehead and blood trickled from it down her
cheek.

Two buttons
had been ripped off her blouse and her skirt was crumpled and
dirty. Her whole body ached as though she had been thrown down a
large flight of stairs, landing heavily at the bottom.

She walked
naked over the landing and into the bathroom, filling the bath with
hot water and pouring a bottle of lavender oil into the full tub.
She carefully climbed into the bath and lowered her aching body
beneath the water. She sobbed hysterically, like she had never
sobbed before.

Jennifer had
done her best to be brave and sensible as she heard George pull up
the drive in his car.

She had
stopped visibly shaking from the outside of her body, but not from
the inside.

The thoughts
of her doing her duty by providing so generously for her brother
comforted her, but now she had suddenly realised that she had been
betrayed by a wicked, cruel and very dangerous man, where she could
no longer look upon him as her brother.

She croaked
through the tears that wanted so badly to be shed as she looked at
her reflection in the mirror at her bruised and battered face. Her
body ached and her head felt like it was fit to burst as she walked
slowly down the stairs and into the lounge. George was pouring
himself a glass of whisky from the cabinet as she entered.

He looked up
at her as his smile rapidly turned to a look of sheer disbelief and
horror as his glass fell from his hand and onto the floor. He raced
over to her as she fell into his arms, crying uncontrollably as she
clung onto him in desperation.

‘What the hell
had happened to you?’ he said, pushing her shaking body away from
his grasp enabling him to look at her bruised face.

‘It looks
worse that it feels,’ she said, trying to keep her head
lowered.

‘Oh, my poor
darling, how did this happen?’ he said, wiping his hands softly
over the wounds of her face.

‘I just had a
little fall down the steps leading to the outdoor music hall,’ she
said plausibly.

‘This doesn’t
look like a little fall to me, just look at the state of you, I’ll
phone the doctor straight away,’ he said, pulling her closely to
him with his arms tightly around her shoulders.

‘No, no, I
don’t want to see any doctor, it’s nothing. I’ve had a hot bath and
feel much better now. The bruises will have disappeared by
tomorrow,’ she said confidently.

‘Well, you
just sit there and I’ll make you a hot cup of tea and brandy,’ he
said, carefully walking her towards the armchair by the fire.

He placed the
tea beside her as he wiped a warm cloth with disinfectant gently
over her eye and the cut on her forehead. He wrapped a cashmere
blanket around her shoulders and lifted her feet onto a cushioned
footstool as she lay back in the chair, wiping tears from her eyes.
Her body started to shake once again as she re-lived her
frightening ordeal at the hands of her psychopathic brother.

The attack on
her had been terrifyingly severe, but she now finally acknowledged
that he was a dangerous man, and she had been extremely lucky to
have not sustained more serious injuries, or worse.

She was in a
great deal of pain and discomfort, which she suffered in silence to
avoid George seeking medical assistance, which could easily expose
her double life.

She had slept
through the night, but woke to realise her body ached from head to
toe. Images of her previous day’s attack swirled through her mind
the moment she opened her eyes which she covered with her hand as
George drew back the bedroom curtains to let in the bright winter
sun, which directed at her like a searchlight.

A cup of tea
sat on the bedside table as George sat alongside her, his eyes full
of concern and compassion as he gently lifted a tuft of hair from
her forehead to inspect the wound on her forehead.

She climbed
out of bed as the bruises and abrasions stiffened and ached.

George helped
her downstairs and sat her at the kitchen table. He knew her well
enough to guess from her expression that she was in pain and
discomfort as she slowly lowered her body onto the chair.

The early
morning sun was shining across the rear garden and seagulls swooped
and soared in the blue sky overhead.

George opened
the kitchen door to let Walter out into the garden. Jennifer
suddenly shivered with the intensity of the bitterly cold wind as
it circulated around the kitchen.