Escape From Evil - Cathy Wilson [110]
Entering the place felt so wrong, but once I’d overcome that hurdle I could begin to concentrate on why I was there. I didn’t dare rush anything or Peter would get suspicious, so I began by telling him off for kidnapping my son. It would have been unnatural if I hadn’t. But then I apologized for running off in the first place. I told him I understood how much he’d been hurt and that’s why he’d taken Daniel. No, I didn’t believe he would hurt him, of course not.
I basically came out with any old nonsense I thought he wanted to hear. And he swallowed it. He truly believed I was negotiating to come back to him.
Of course, words are one thing. If I really loved him like a wife should, then I would share his bed. That night he subjected me to every sexual act he could think of and I went along with them all. I don’t know if Peter suspected my motives or simply got a kick out of his power over me, but he seemed to take pleasure in doing things he knew I would hate. He didn’t hurt me this time – perhaps he was saving that – but he came up with something worse. As he pushed me onto my knees and prepared himself to penetrate me from behind, I heard a voice. Daniel had entered the room.
‘Stop it, Peter,’ I said as calmly as I could. ‘Not now.’
But he laughed and kept pushing. That’s when I knew that he’d seen Daniel come into the room long before I had. He wanted my son to see me on all fours. That’s the only reason we were doing this.
I just closed my eyes and tried to get it over with as quickly as possible. I’d witnessed my own mother subjected to harsher treatment in the same position. However much it hurt, I couldn’t afford to show Daniel. He had to believe I was okay. So did Peter. Whatever the provocation, I was not going to rock the boat. If it was a test, I was determined to pass.
On day two I began to seriously work on him. It was no good going in there claiming he was a saint. I had to be semi-truthful, so I said, ‘Look, this is why I ran away. I found the relationship very difficult because I was so far away from home. I felt lonely and that made me act the way I did.’
On and on I went, blaming being isolated for the way I’d treated him. Having my phone calls monitored and my friendships ended like that had hurt me and I’d responded badly, I said. He lapped up every word – especially when I tried to take the blame.
‘I shouldn’t have taken your son,’ I admitted. ‘That was wrong.’
‘You’ve no idea how much that hurt me, Cathy,’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t have done it.’
‘I know, I’m sorry. I should have spoken to you.’
‘Yes, you should. You can always speak to me, Cathy, you know that.’
What a load of bull. The weird thing is, I honestly couldn’t tell if he believed it or not.
For ages we went on, toing and froing. Finally I sensed he’d been softened enough. It was now or never. Time for the killer punch.
‘It’s this place’s fault,’ I said. ‘Everything would have been all right if we’d stayed down south. I would have been the perfect wife, I know it.’
It was a dangerous game to play. I couldn’t just say, ‘Let’s drive down to Portsmouth and everything will be rosy.’ He’d get suspicious at that. But I planted the seed – just as he had done to me so many times.
When we returned to the subject later, I told Peter how happy I was in Portsmouth and how it was a shame we hadn’t moved there after Brighton when we’d had the chance of an exchange flat in the area. ‘We’d have been happy, I know it.’
Then the miracle happened. Peter said, ‘Do you think you’d be happy if we gave it a go in Portsmouth now?’
I really had to hold my excitement back. Could it even be a trick? I wouldn’t have put it past him.
‘Are you serious? I can’t think of anywhere better for us to be a family.’
He grunted,