“And that’s why you have Vanessa.”
“And we have a statement prepared. Dean’s going to hell in a very expensive handbag,” she said, almost muttering it. “It was the last straw. He told me to seduce the guy after I got him drunk.”
“Why did you do it?”
“Because I thought it would mean he’d start being like he used to be. He would tell me I didn’t love him anymore, that I didn’t support him and generally make me feel like shit. He was so nice to me when he persuaded me to help him out ‘with his business’. I just found myself agreeing and it sounds so weak and pathetic,” she said, straightening her back and tipping her chin up. “But I was completely under his spell.”
I let the silence hang for a moment because I didn’t want her to think that what I was about to say was purely to make her feel better. It was easy for someone outside of the situation to blame the victim; to say ‘well, why didn’t they just leave him?’ or ‘they could’ve left at any time’. I knew that wasn’t true: that women and men were brainwashed into believing their partner or spouse so they would be easily controlled.
“What made you leave?”
“Three weeks after I still felt dirty. It wasn’t full sex, just oral, but I was about to put bleach in my mouth when I realised what the consequences would be. I walked out of the door at that moment because I knew if I didn’t I probably wouldn’t see out the year.”
“But you did. You went. You’re sitting here now having handed over evidence to the police that proves what he did. So, what does that make you?” I said, wanting her to say the words for herself rather than hear them from me.
“Strong,” she said. “I know. I think I want to start a charity or add to one, that raises money to help women and men who have been in situations of domestic abuse get counselling.” She looked at me anxiously. “Nick has been amazing, Claire. He never judged or told me what to do. He never tried to control anything. He might’ve persuaded me on what pizza toppings to pick and then got my favourite anyway or we took turns at choosing which series to watch. It was a novelty.”
I hadn’t had many relationships, mainly a series of dates with the same person, but even so, I understood what she was describing. “That’s normal, Katie. It’s called compromise.”
“I know. I get it. That’s why I can deal with it if what I did does get out to the media”
The door opened and two huge men came through, both looking ready to move. “We can go,” Killian said. “Dean Lacey is being brought in for questioning. They don’t expect much as he can disassociate it and palm it off onto his lawyers, saying they were desperate for the win, but the police think it will mean he’ll distance himself.”
“What about what I’ve told them?” Katie said, no longer holding the tablet that had contained all of the photos and saved emails. She’d handed it in.
Nick pulled her into his chest. “They’re speaking to the man in the photos. It’s going to be dealt with sensitively.”
“What if he doesn’t want to make a complaint?”
“There’s enough evidence there anyway. Lacey’s committed a crime. Now let’s go pick the twins up and you can choose which take out to have as long as it’s not pizza,” Nick said. “We’ve eaten so much pizza.”
“That’s why I’ve put weight on,” Katie said, looking down at herself.
Nick nodded. “That’s one goal achieved then.” He looked to Killian. “Security stays the same. The injunction’s in place.”
“You’ll get your divorce quickly now,” I said to Katie.
She nodded. “Thank you. All of you. For everything.”
Chapter Twenty
Killian
Four weeks later, on a Friday, things started to feel somewhere back to normal. Normal in the loosest sense of the word, or within my understanding of it anyway. Claire hadn’t gone back to her apartment. She had slowly taken over my house with bits of pink and purple shades that she had different names for and cushions and shoes. The shoes were everywhere. I went in a cupboard to dig out an electric screwdriver to put a shoe cupboard together and a random shoe fell out and knocked me on my head. She found it hilarious: I lost my temper, which equated to me pacing round the room, muttering under my breath and opening a beer and her laughing even more.
“You could just remodel the safe room,” she said, repeating words she’d been using for several days.
I glared. “I could also convert the loft. If you’re moving in, then you can have a fucking shoe room up there. The safe room is staying.”
“Do you want me to move in?” she said, sitting down on the floor as I dug through yet more shoes to find my tool box. “Because maybe this is the sort of conversation we should be having before I bring any more of my stuff over here?”
“Do you have more shoes to bring?” I grumbled, finally finding what I was looking for.
“I might have. To be fair, Killian, I haven’t bought any for weeks.” She cast pleading eyes at me and I mumbled some more about shoes and weapons and only needing two pairs, which was a lie.
“So,” I said. “Are you moving in?”
“I repeat my previous question of ‘do you want me to me in’?”
