To Catch a Butterfly Page 23

  Three weeks went by and the evening before her next appointment with Catherine, Frank decided that he did not like the idea of Helen working in this way, he would not allow her to phone customers from the house and he certainly did not want them ringing his number. It was an intrusion, he told Helen that she would have to stop, go and find a job in another salon, or a café or something. Helen begged him to change his mind but he wasn’t having any of it. He had made his decision and that was final. She could keep her appointment she had the following day and then that was it. Anyway, she could always give up work and look after the house properly, be there to make sure there was a meal ready when he walked in the door. Helen could feel her life slipping from her, she was imprisoned and she felt hopeless.

  “You don’t make enough fucking money to pay the bus fares anyway, I don’t know why you’re bothering with this shit, fucking hairdressing, it’s not a real fucking job is it?” He tossed a beer can into the bin, immediately opening another.

  “Please don’t start Frank, I don’t want an argument.” Helen stood at the sink, wiping up the dishes.

  “Who said anything about an argument, I’m not arguing, I’m just telling you how it is.” He sat back in his chair, scratching his crotch.

  “It’s not fucking rocket science is it?” He said, his voice getting louder.

  “I had to train hard to get my qualification, what have you ever studied for?” She surprised herself with the comment, but did not react quickly enough when she heard his chair go over as he stood up and kicked it away. She felt her hair pulled from behind and her head snapped back, she cried out.

  “What did you fucking say to me?” His beer breath heavy in her face.

  ‘I’m sorry!” She cried. Then came the blow, to the side of her face, his fist cracking into her. She felt pain through her head as he hit her again, then closed his hand around her throat.

  “Sorry? You fucking will be sorry, fucking talk to me like that you fucking slag.”

  “Please Frank, don’t!” She screamed, trying desperately to make him release his grip around her throat. Her arms reaching behind her as he squeezed tighter.

  “Shut the fuck up!” His face was next to hers.

  She felt his hand on her breast, squeezing it hard, then grabbing the other one, “Please Frank I beg you!” She pleaded. But she was pleading with a monster.

  He threw her onto the floor and kicked her in the stomach, she gasped for air, the blow winding her. He stood on her head as she curled herself into a ball. “If you ever speak to me like that again, I’ll fucking kill you.” He removed his foot and spat at her. Then he left her laying on the floor sobbing and went for a drink with his mates.

  “Hey Hey, Frankie boy, missus let you out did she?” Micky Harrison called out as Frank walked in.

  “Yeah, had to charm her first though, but you know my Helen, she couldn’t resist me, anyway, who wants a pint?” Frank pulled out a wad of notes from his back pocket.

  He bought a round of drinks and sat making his mates laugh for the rest of the night.

  “He’s a good bloke is that Frank, he might do a few dodgy dealings here and there, but he’s alright you know.” Micky Harrison slurred as he walked home with John Delaney.

  “I agree, good bloke, yeah, got a very fuckable missus too.” He whispered into Micky’s ear.

  “Don’t fucking say that in front of him though, he’d fucking do yer for that.” They both nodded.

  “But, yeah, good old bloke, good old Frankie boy.”

  “Yeah”

  CHAPTER EIGHTY ONE

  Helen’s head thumped as she stepped off the bus, she wore a polo neck jumper and brushed her hair down flat to hide the bruise on the side of her face. Every now and then she felt tears welling up but she had learned over the years how to keep such emotions in check and by the time she knocked on Catherine’s door, she was all smiles.

  “Hi, come on in!” Catherine said cheerily, noticing that Helen’s hair was different. “Had a change of style yourself I see.”

  Helen didn’t answer, but gingerly sat down at the kitchen table. “How have you been?” She asked, smiling.

  “Good actually, you?” Catherine looked at her.

  “Yes, fine, really good.” Helen looked down, “I’m afraid this will be my last visit, I’m so sorry but I’m giving up the business.” She kept her eyes low.

  Catherine sat down, “Why?” She noticed the dark bruise and immediately reached over and gently moved Helen’s hair back. “Jesus Christ, what happened to you?” She stared, shocked at the extent of swelling on Helen’s face.

  Helen took her hand and slowly pulled it away. “I was getting something out of a cupboard and it fell on me.” She said looking Catherine in the eye.

  “Oh, what you mean it fell on you and then started punching you?” Catherine held her hand.

  “Please don’t, something really did fall on me.” Helen let Catherine hold onto her hand.

  “Look, I know we hardly know each other and you’re probably thinking it’s none of my business, but if he’s hitting you…”

  “He’s not.” Helen felt tears and pulled her hand from Catherine’s.

  They sat silently, Helen wiped her tears and Catherine poured out two glasses of gin. “This is my medicinal gin, I get it on prescription from the doctor but it’s only for emergencies.” She put a glass in front of Helen, who smiled; Catherine made her smile a lot.

  “Thank you.” Helen was not one to drink in the afternoon, but as she took a sip, she felt calmer. Catherine somehow made her feel safe.

  “You’re welcome.” Catherine watched her and could see she was in pain. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” She asked gently.

  Helen put a hand to her face and began to cry. Catherine moved her chair round next to her and gently placed her arm around Helen’s shoulder. “It’s okay, it’s okay, let it out.”

  “You must think I’m a complete idiot.” Helen finally said, blowing her nose, “I’m so sorry, I can normally….” She stopped herself.

  “You can normally hide it, is that what you were going to say?” Catherine lit a cigarette.

  “I feel such a fool, crying in front of you, what an idiot.”

  “Oh I don’t think you’re an idiot, and you shouldn’t put yourself down.” Catherine flicked her ash.

  Helen shifted in her seat, wincing at the pain in her side.

  “You’re hurt aren’t you, I mean apart from your face.” Catherine moved her seat away slightly and turned to face her.

  Helen began to cry again and Catherine gently wrapped her arms around her, “God, what did he do to you?” She whispered in Helen’s ear, feeling her body shaking.

  “He kicked me.” Helen said, lifting her face up to meet Catherine’s. Their lips an inch apart, she closed her eyes and pressed her lips against Catherine’s, her heart thumping in her chest, her head swimming. Catherine kissed her slowly. Helen had never felt anything quite like this in her life, the feeling of another woman, the intimacy in that kiss was far more than she had ever felt with any man. It was so gentle, so tender. So right.

  “I don’t know where that came from, I’m sorry.” Catherine touched Helen’s face and looked to the floor.

  Helen took her hand and held it for a moment, “Don’t say sorry.” She leant closer to Catherine. “It was wonderful.” She whispered, making Catherine inhale. They looked at each other, their faces inches apart.

  “I think you’re beautiful.” Catherine spoke softly, “But I don’t think you need complications in your life right now.” She touched Helen’s face again.

  “I think you’re lovely.” Helen smiled “I don’t know what I need right now, I just know that I haven’t felt like this before.”

  They spent the afternoon on the huge sofa in Catherine’s living room, it was warm and inviting and Helen wished she could stay there all day. The gin made her heady and she felt safe, relaxed, for the first time in a very long time.

  “Are yo
u alright?” Catherine asked, looking at the bruise on Helen’s face.

  “I’m fine.” She smiled, reaching her head up to kiss her again. It felt natural, comfortable. It felt fucking wonderful.

  “I have to go soon.” She put her hand on Catherine’s cheek, “Oh, I didn’t cut your hair!” She sat up, her sides still aching.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Catherine kissed her hand, “Why are you giving up the business, is it because he wants you to?”

  “Yes, but I want to see you again.” She looked into Catherine’s eyes. “I want to see you again and I don’t quite understand why, or how.”

  “We’ll find a way.” Catherine’s heart ached, the thought of having to let her go back to that man made her feel sick. “You can always leave him and run away to France with me.” She smiled, but she meant every word.

  “My father lives there, he’s got a lovely cottage, we could spend our days drinking wine and I could paint you.”

  “What would we live on?” Helen asked, both of them going along with the dream for a moment.

  “Don’t worry about money, you could set up your own salon, give it a posh French name.”

  They both smiled. And then the dream was gone.

  “He’d kill my parents if I ran away, and he’d find me and kill me as well.” Helen rested her head on Catherine’s chest. Her words hung in the air. Neither doubting the truth in them, they weren’t said for effect, they were said because that was exactly what he would do.

  Two weeks passed before Helen managed to make an excuse to be out of the house for the day, Frank believing that she was going into town to look for work. She arrived at Catherine’s at ten thirty, as she walked in the door, she threw her arms around her and they held each other. “I’ve missed you.” She said, the familiar smell of Catherine’s cologne making her feel safe again. “I managed to sneak my scissors out too, I can cut your hair!”

  Catherine threw her head back and laughed, “You’re so funny, I’m so glad you’re here, I’ve been worried about you.”

  “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

  “Has he done anything else?” She took Helen’s face in her hands, “Please tell me.”

  “No, he hasn’t, I’ve just done whatever he wanted me to, it’s the only way to keep him, you know…” Her voice tailed off, Catherine knew what she meant, she had had to give herself to him whenever he had wanted it. Catherine closed her eyes; the thought of this man hurting her was too much to bear. She wanted to pick her up and run away with her right at that moment, leave everything behind, start again, a new life, a life together. Catherine had loved women in her life, she had been in relationships, some good, some not so, had some wonderful times. But there was something different about Helen, the feelings she had for her were so strong. So strong so quickly. She thought about her every second of every day, she dreamt about her, dreamt about that kiss. This was something else. Something amazing. But Catherine held back, Helen was vulnerable and Catherine was conscious not to complicate her life. As miserable as it may be, living with him. She knew that right now, Helen needed something else from her, she needed sanctuary. Somewhere she could go to escape. Somewhere she could cry, laugh and feel loved.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY TWO

  “Where the fuck are you going now?” Frank made Helen jump as she picked up her keys and headed for the door.

  “I’m going into town, I think there’s a job going at the newsagents on the corner of Market Street.” She took another step towards the door.

  “I’ll come with you.” Frank came up behind her. “Are you wearing perfume?” He sniffed loudly next to her ear, making her cringe.

  “Thought I should make an effort.” She turned to face him. Her heart thundering in her chest.

  “Is that why you’re all tarted up?” He took her arm and pushed her back, looking her up and down.

  “I just thought I should make myself look presentable.” She tried to smile, she thought of Catherine who was waiting for her. “You don’t need to come, I’ll get the bus.” She felt his hand squeezing her arm tighter.

  “I think you’re seeing someone else.” He pushed his face against hers. “Are you seeing someone else?” His voice was low, rippling with the anger that so very often consumed him.

  “No Frank, I’m not, I told you, I’m going to see if there’s a job going, that’s all.” She tried to pull her arm away, “You’re hurting me Frank, please let me go.”

  He pushed her back against the wall, “I’m going with you.” He kissed her hard on her cheek, his rough stubble against her skin.

  “Ok, fine come with me.” Her heart sank, Catherine would be waiting at her house, waiting and worrying.

  They drove into town, Frank parked directly outside the newsagent’s. He got out first and walked up to the window. Helen came up behind him.

  “Well, I can’t see a card up or anything.” He looked at her, “I hope you’re not lying to me Helen.” His grinning face close to hers. “Let’s go inside shall we?” He took her arm and marched her inside.

  The old man behind the counter looked up, His big spectacles half way down his nose. “Hello there, what can I get you?”

  Frank smiled, letting go of Helen’s arm and placing both his hands onto the counter. “My wife’s here about the job.” He looked at Helen, her face suddenly flushed; she looked at the old man.

  “What job?” The old man frowned, drawing his thick white eyebrows closer together.

  “My wife said there was a job here.” Frank stepped back and crossed his arms.

  “I think there’s been some mistake, we don’t have any jobs going I’m afraid.” The old man looked at Helen.

  “I thought I saw a card in your window as I went past the other day, my mistake.” Helen spoke quickly, “My mistake, sorry to have bothered you.” She turned to leave.

  The silence during the journey home was intolerable. Helen could only think of Catherine. Helen knew that the moment they got home that Frank was going to lose it; she could see his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “I honestly thought I saw a card, I’m sure it said ‘vacancy’, maybe it was an advert for something else, a flat or something?” She looked out of the window as she spoke.

  “Yeah probably, still, never mind, something will turn up.” Frank’s words confused her for a second. He was rational, calm in his tone.

  “Maybe I’ll jump on the bus tomorrow and go back into town, see if I can

  find something.” She kept her voice light, carefree almost, but inside she was dreading having to spend the rest of the day with her shit husband. Again, Catherine went through her mind. Beautiful Catherine, so warm, so gentle, so kind. Helen closed her eyes and breathed in.

  “Yeah, good idea.” Frank replied, under his breath.

  Helen followed him into the hallway, as she closed the front door, she turned around and felt the full force of his fist smashing into her face. She let out a cry and fell to her knees. Blood poured onto the floor and she felt herself slip down, everything blurred and although she could feel him next to her, kneeling beside her, breathing into her broken face, she could see nothing.

  “Don’t you ever fucking lie to me again.” She heard him say. And then nothing.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY THREE

  Catherine looked out of the window. Helen was late, she was very late. Something was wrong, she sighed. She stepped out of her front door and looked along the street. Something was wrong. She looked at her car and it crossed her mind for a second to go and find her, drive into town, drive around, see if she could see her. No, she should wait, maybe the bus was cancelled. Maybe.

  Maybe what was happening between them was too much for Helen to cope with. Catherine knew the power of love between women. The intensity of it. She thought about their first kiss and her stomach flipped. She thought about what could have happened, why Helen hadn’t come to her today and her guts churned.

  Something was wrong.

  Helen opened her eyes; she winced at the pai
n that even the slightest movement brought. It took her a moment to realise that she was in bed. She put a hand to her face and could feel swelling around her eyes.

  “How you feeling?” Franks voice startled her; she looked slowly around and saw him sitting in the corner of the room on his mother’s old rocking chair. She hated that fucking thing. Frank would sit there for hours, rocking back and forth in the dark. She would be downstairs and could hear the floorboards creaking as he rocked. He knew it drove her crazy and he would stay there until she came to bed. His eyes leering at her as she undressed, climbing quickly under the covers. Pressing her head into her pillow and praying he would stop, go downstairs and drink until he fell asleep on the sofa. Prayers went unanswered.

  “You shouldn’t have lied to me Helen.”

  “I didn’t lie, I swear.” She looked at him; she felt her right eye was almost closed. Her nostrils were full of dried blood. “I didn’t lie.” Even speaking a few words exhausted her.

  “Tell me you’re not seeing another man.” His voice thumped through her head. “Swear on your parents’ lives that you’re not seeing another man.”

  Frank knew that Helen would never dream of swearing on anything, especially on anything to do with her parents. It was his way of always ensuring the truth came out. Stupid bitch, shouldn’t be so fucking sentimental. It was only fucking words after all. But he knew his Helen. Knew she couldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.

  “I swear on my parents’ lives I’m not seeing another man.” She felt tears welling.

  “I believe you, now get some rest, you look like shit.” He abruptly stood up and walked to the door.

  “How long have I been here?” She asked.

  “Two days.” He answered without turning round.