The Witness: A Novel (61 page)

“Stay close.” He guided her into a little shop and asked the proprietor to show them the back door. They exited on a small alley and mingled with the crowd when they reached the main street. “The tube station next.”

No bookstores today, she thought. What will I tell the Hollisters?

They boarded what she thought was the wrong train, and after several stops, changed trains and directions. She was really confused now. If this were the way home, it was the most circuitous route she could imagine. Finally she saw the familiar stop, and they mounted the stairs to the street and turned in the direction of Colin’s flat. Simon was punching the buttons on his mobile before she had even locked the door. “Casey here,” she heard him say. “Jenny’s home and she’s fine, but I think she was recognised.” There was a pause. “Covent Garden. No, sir, we weren’t followed.” He rang off.

“I’ll make tea,” she said. “That should show you how culturally assimilated I’ve become.”

They sipped their tea and nibbled on lemon cakes from Sainsbury’s until Colin arrived. “Let’s hear it,” he said, accepting a quick hug from
her.

“A man spoke to me at the restaurant. In Texas people you don’t know speak to you—it’s not unusual.”

“He didn’t want to make friends, love. He wanted to see if you had an American accent.”

“Anything else?” Colin asked.

“He saw my scar, but of course everyone does. Then Simon said we had to leave, and we did.”

“Casey?”

“He’d been watching her in the café. When she went to the ladies’, he intercepted her on her way back. I don’t know who he was, but I didn’t think we should wait to find out.”

“Physical description?”

“Five foot nine or ten, approximately eleven stone,” Simon said. “Straight hair, parted on the left. Wire-rimmed glasses, thin moustache, narrow, ferret-like face. He was pale, anaemic looking. He wore a white button-down shirt, print tie, and rumpled blue trousers. My guess is he’s a reporter. No one else would pay that much attention. He left the café right after we did, but he wasn’t able to keep up with us.”

She felt the muscles in her stomach tightening. “Should I be afraid?”

“No,” Colin answered shortly.

“Can I go to work tomorrow?”

“It shouldn’t be a problem, Jenny.”

“I’ll be off, sir.”

“Come here to me, Jen,” Colin said when he had closed and locked the door behind Casey.

Her stomach tensed further. “Colin, I want to get off the merry-goround for a while.”

“I’ll just hold you then.”

J
enny woke often and early. When she went into the kitchen, Colin was already there brewing the tea, and the look on his face told her that his night hadn’t been any more peaceful than hers. He turned the newspaper in her direction, and her knees felt weak. The headline read: “Scott Witness Still in London.”

“You can’t be identified from the description in the article,” Colin remarked.

“No, but that reporter pegged Simon, didn’t he? ‘A rugged-looking individual with short, sandy-coloured hair and military bearing.’”

“Jenny, if this had to happen, I’m glad you were with him and not with me. I’ve been interviewed by the media, I’ve testified in numerous cases, and I’m more likely to be recognised. Casey has operated under the radar for a long time.”

She folded the newspaper closed. “Colin, I’m sorry about last night. The homework, I mean. I love you. I don’t want you to think that I don’t.”

He moved behind her and leant over to embrace her. “You’re under a good deal of stress, Jen. We’ll work through it.” When she lifted her face for his kiss, her mouth was warm from the tea.

After he left, she began her exercises, an ingrained habit now, but her limbs felt heavy, as if they were pinned to the floor. Whose body is it anyway, she railed at herself. Surely she could get through
these
exercises! She sat up. Everywhere she looked she saw her failure and her fear—Colin’s sofa, her bedroom. On her way to change clothes, she closed his bedroom door. He wanted her to be there with him, and she couldn’t. It was too much—they loved and desired each other, but she had a monster on her back, and now someone might as well have painted a target on her chest.

Stick it out, Brian would say. She dragged herself to the bookstore. Mr. Hollister had left instructions on the computer table next to the morning newspaper. She hadn’t been online very long when she heard the doorbell jingle and Simon’s voice. Esther directed him upstairs.

“I’m on late turn today, love. I saw the article—just thought I’d check on you before I go in.”

She was hunched forward.

“Stomach bothering you? Stand up and show me where it hurts.”

Esther Hollister couldn’t hear their voices, but she could see the young policeman rest the flat of his hand on Jenny’s stomach. His arm was around her shoulders.

“Tense these muscles and count to ten,” he told her. “Then relax to a count of ten. Eventually—if a period of relaxation always follows the period of tension—the tension itself can become a cue for the relief to follow.”

“I wish you didn’t have to leave.”

“You’ll be okay, love. I’ll see you soon.”

“Yes, Simon. Thanks.” She watched him go down the stairs and heard his farewell to Esther before he went out. She turned back to the computer screen, but between the newspaper on the corner of the table and the ache in the pit of her stomach, it was slow going. Finally she stopped trying, resting her hands in her lap. Her cowardly hands—afraid to touch Colin where he wanted to be touched. How do you build a relationship when the undertow of fear is so strong?

Mr. Hollister startled her, and she couldn’t wipe the tears away quickly enough. “Miss Jeffries, are you all right? We’re very happy to have you with us, you know. You mustn’t worry if you don’t complete my list today. Essie!” he called. “Tea for Miss Jeffries, please.” The tea was always hot, so Esther joined them straightaway. “Essie, I think we’re working Miss Jeffries too hard,” he said.

Esther set the cup next to the computer. “I don’t think that’s the problem, Reggie. Jenny, would you like to tell us what’s upsetting you?”

She looked at their concerned faces. They had daughters, she knew—two daughters and a son. Surely their children had trusted them with confidences! She knew neither Colin nor Simon would want her to disclose anything, but they seemed very far away. She opened the newspaper and pointed to the words beneath the masthead. “That’s about me,” she said. “I’m the Scott witness. I’m still in London.”

“Reggie, close the shop,” Esther said. She pulled a chair next to Jenny and took both of her hands in her own. “My poor dear.” She waited for her husband to return.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth before,” Jenny said. “I shouldn’t be telling you now. Please don’t fire me. I really like coming here.”

“We’ll do nothing of the sort,” Mr. Hollister assured her.

“Goodness me, that explains a lot,” Esther smiled. “You know more policemen than I have books on the shelves, and they are all so protective of you.”

“And you’ve been so shy about your personal information,” Mr. Hollister added. “You’ve not let your name be recorded anywhere, and you’ve never given us your address.”

“Colin thought it would be best.”

“Why, Jenny?”

“Because Colin thinks he’s still after me. He was so angry when the
verdict was read. There have been incidents, but the police haven’t been able to link them to—to—
him
. Oh, you won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“Wouldn’t think of it,” Mr. Hollister said firmly. “Essie, what can we do to help this young lady?”

“People and books, that’s where I always turn,” she answered. “Jenny, if you feel safe here and you want to continue, you’re welcome to come in whenever you like. I also want you to have our home address and phone—if you need us, ring or stop round. We have plenty of space, and we won’t pry.”

Mr. Hollister wrote their contact information on the back of his business card.

“Reggie, that book about FDR that just came in—can you put your hands on it? I think it might be just the thing for Jenny.”

It was downstairs, but Mr. Hollister located it quickly. Jenny’s eyes filled when she saw the title:
Freedom From Fear
.

“D
ifficult week?” Dr. Knowles asked. “I saw the newspaper article.”

No one spoke. Jenny was sitting on the sofa, her shoulders slumped, and Colin was beside her, watching her.

“Did it make you feel more vulnerable, Jenny?”

Looking down, she didn’t answer.

“Recovery doesn’t occur in a vacuum, Jenny.”

“I’m not recovering at all,” she said in a hollow voice. “I’m more afraid. I feel like the monster is around every corner. I need Colin more than ever, and I’m less capable of responding.”

“Something else happened this week then.”

“It’s not fair!” she burst out. “The monster has had what Colin hasn’t, and it’s not right! I can’t give him what I want to give him!”

“No, it isn’t fair,” Knowles agreed calmly. “But the monster, as you call him, took it, while Colin doesn’t want it until you’re ready to give it. Will you tell me about it?”

She remembered how she had felt when she removed his trousers. She had put her hands on the waistband of his undershorts and felt time stop. He had called her name, once, twice. Slowly—oh so slowly—she had eased his shorts down. The forest of dark hair that swirled between his legs made him look menacing, and she had not been able to touch him there. She had been unable to go forward, unable to go back, paralyzed except for her racing heart. “No. Night after night I’ve hurt him, and I don’t want to do it anymore.”

All week Colin had fought with his expectations. Jenny’s tentative little fingers were so much more exciting than a confident, experienced touch would have been. At times the anticipation had been almost unbearable. Discouragement had followed.

“Jenny, these are exactly the things we need to talk about, the things that frighten or disturb you. Tell me, and let me put it into context for Colin. Did you see him naked this week?”

She nodded and started to cry.

“And what did you think about that?”

“I thought—I thought—it looked like a weapon,” she said, her voice failing.

Colin looked at the floor. His eyes took in the beige carpet, Theo’s shoes, the tuft of dust behind the leg of his chair. It had been bad enough seeing her reaction; hearing her describe it to Theo was worse. Why this woman? he asked himself. Since his divorce, he’d had several affairs. Those women had been willing to sleep with him. They had been charming and clever. Why hadn’t he fallen in love with one of them? Theo’s response surprised him, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

“Of course you did, my dear,” he said gently. “That was your experience with Scott, wasn’t it? But tell me—when you saw Colin, did you want to run?”

“No. He was kissing me and whispering my name.”

“Were you afraid?”

“Colin, say something,” she sobbed.

What could he say? He had said it all, and it had not made a difference.

“What did you think would happen?” Knowles persisted.

“He’d hurt me. He wouldn’t mean to, but he would.”

“What sort of man is Colin, Jenny?”

“He’s wonderful—thoughtful and gentle and strong. He believes in helping people, in protecting them and seeking justice for them. He knows what to do. He’s sure of himself. He’s loving and generous.”

“Jenny, sex is more than two bodies coming together. Our sexuality comes from who we are as human beings. It’s directly related to our character. Even now, you respond when Colin touches you because the touches are
his
. Later, when he makes love to you, you’ll respond, not just to a set of anatomical parts, but to the whole individual, his values, his personality, his commitment to you. In mathematics they teach that the sum is greater than the total of its parts. That’s true in loving relationships, too.”

“Dr. Knowles, why does it have to be so hard? I love him, and I want so badly to be able to follow through.”

“Are there any other fears you haven’t related to me? Fear of pregnancy, for example? Perhaps birth control is a subject you and Colin should address, if you haven’t already.”

Why? Colin thought. Birth control is for couples who actually make love.

“We did, and Colin said—” She looked at him, but he didn’t answer.

“What is our current therapeutic theme?”

She sighed. “I’m in charge of my body.”

“That’s correct. Therefore I’d like you to be responsible for this issue.”

She had gone white. “I’m afraid of going to that kind of doctor,” she stammered.

Knowles frowned. “Jenny, you must have had a pelvic examination as part of your medical while you were in hospital.”

She looked at Colin.

“Yes, and a forensic examination as well,” Colin replied after a moment, “but she was unconscious.”

“Have you had one since you left hospital?”

She opened her mouth then closed it without speaking. “Sort of,” she finally said.

“Would you explain that, Jenny?”

“I had pain, terrible pain. I hadn’t had a period in so long that I thought the monster had gotten me pregnant. Brian held me down, and Simon—he did what he had to do, I guess. Made sure I wasn’t miscarrying.”

Colin remembered Jenny confessing her pregnancy fears to Knowles. Casey had been present. “He examined you?” he demanded, his detached tone gone. “Jenny, he was out of line!”

Dear God, thought Knowles. That stern-faced young policeman. “How did you feel about what he did?”

“Terrified. And so mad I accused him of being a rapist. I had fought him, you see, him and Brian, and I had lost.”

“How did he react?”

“He went ballistic. He was so angry I was sure he was out of control.”

“I should have been told,” Colin said.

She gave him a rueful smile. “Things happened at the flat that we didn’t tell you. Anyway, it was awful, because I was exhausted and afraid and I couldn’t get away from him.”

“Did he hurt you, Jenny?” Knowles asked.