‘A ton, a ton ten.’
‘Let me show you what you’re doing to me.’ She held the sunglasses by the furthest point of each arm. Slowly she pulled the end tips apart. At the instant one of the hinges broke, Roddy’s hand shot out with a vicious slap. Sitting below him, she ducked slightly, and his open hand struck the top of her head.
‘Hang on,’ said Stevie, scooting backwards, trying to get out of range. ‘I only broke one of them. You’re doing more than that to me.’
As she began to bend the other arm, he snatched at the glasses. The frame broke completely when she pulled back, and he was left with a single mirrored lens in his hand.
‘You’re in trouble now,’ he said.
She could have scooted further away from him, back across the bed where she would have been able to kick out if he came closer, but instead she moved closer, until her feet found the floor and she was standing.
He grabbed her shoulders and shook her.
‘A hundred and ten, those glasses!’ He was incandescent with anger, ten inches taller, almost dribbling the words. He grabbed the hair at the back of her head and yanked it, jerking her chin up. He span her ninety degrees, and pushed her.
In that moment, Kim’s words came back to Stevie:I learnt how to brace my shoulders so it hurt less when I got pushed into a wall.
The wall hurt. Stevie’s scoliosis passed the impact in a zigzag from her shoulder blades to her hips, but she had braced, just like Kim said, and the impact of the wall on her head went mainly to flesh not bone; her head struck the wall but she was not knocked out.
‘I will smash sense into you,’ said Roddy. ‘You smash my glasses and I will smash you.’
‘You’ve already broken me,’ said Stevie.
He relaxed his grip for a fraction of a second, allowing her to fall back against the wall. She felt warm blood ooze from her head and drip down her neck. Now she was dizzy; maybe he had hurt her more than she knew.
‘Hit me again and my parents will go to the police,’ she gulped. ‘You’ll be the guy who beat up the woman who got radiated in Toppings trying to help the cops. So go ahead. You have one punch left in this relationship, and then we’re through.’
Roddy stood opposite her. He kept glancing at the single mirrored lens in the palm of his hand, as if he needed reminding why he had every right to beat her.
‘We’re getting married, darling,’ he said suddenly. ‘All couples have issues like this.’
‘One punch, one push, you choose,’ Stevie said. ‘Last chance.’
‘We can get counselling.’
‘The only counselling you need is to work out why you’re so shit in bed.’
‘I’m shit in bed because you’re such an ugly fucking gnome.’
‘That was it,’ said Stevie, ghosting sideways and past him. ‘Your last hit. Hope you enjoyed it.’ She brushed past him to the door, expecting to be grabbed or struck, or even lifted and thrown. To her surprise, a shocked Roddy took a step back to let her past.
Stevie opened her bedroom door and saw her parents outside. Moira began applauding. Theo laid his hands across hers to stop her, then set off downstairs, saying over his shoulder, ‘This way, Roddy. I’d say it’s been jolly nice meeting you, but vicars don’t lie. I’ll help you find the front door.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Edward’s ribs ached. He could not twist. He could not laugh – not that there was anything to laugh about. He had taken a day off work after the attack in his garden, and ordered a new phone. The old one was still connected to the network – it must be on the rocks below the cliff, and it was tempting to climb down to try to locate it. Because it was still registered, he had to get a new number and he’d lost all his contacts.
His stomach growled, as if a depression was taking root there, and he looked for anti-inflammatories to settle it. When he took two, he shut the bathroom mirror and saw the face of an old man.A beaten-up old man, he thought. Hurting all over, sad inside. That was him.
His body was bruised from the beating. He was sure at least one rib was broken. He wandered about the house disconsolately. He saw how his two assailants – real police, fake police? – had got in. The side passage door had been prised open and they’d been lying in wait for him in the garden, which would not have been difficult. And what were they telling him? Not to ask questions? How the hell was he supposed to comply with that and keep working?
He was about to take his moped to Kim’s flat when she arrived at the end of his driveway in her Porsche.
She looked angry, but the frown dissolved from her face when he burst into tears.
‘What – honey, what?’
‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ he said, shaking his head.
