in the underground garage which forms part of my apartment block. Linda Clarke had been determined that she needed to get out of the city to stay clear of Ryan, and had started her new life in a little village some eight miles to the south. It gave me a good excuse to take the car out on a rare trip through the local countryside.
I knew that Linda worked in the afternoons as a classroom assistant at the small village school, so I decided to make her my first visit of the day. Hopefully she’d be in, I thought, or I’d just push the letter through the door with a note asking her to give me a call.
I parked my car alongside the village green, and walked up to the stone-built bungalow where Linda was lodging. Ringing the bell, I listened for some signs of life. The lounge curtain, which was still drawn, twitched slightly. After a moment, there was the sound of footsteps, and the door was opened. Linda Clarke stood there, a slightly relieved smile on her face.
“Hello, Jack,” she said, and moved aside to invite me into the house. I noticed that since I’d last seen her, she’d had her long blonde hair cut into a short bob. I complimented her on it as we walked into the living room.
“Thanks,” she smiled properly for the first time. “I wanted to do something to show that this is the new me.”
I sat back in the chair. “I wanted to come and see you for a couple of reasons. First, and most important, how's it going?”
For the next few minutes, I listened as Linda talked animatedly about how happy and fulfilled she was. We’d managed to find her a lodging with one of the teachers of the local school, and they had become firm friends. She loved her job, and working with the children of the school had meant that she’d quickly got to know a large proportion of the villagers. In a short time, she felt at the heart of a small but supportive community. I sat, savouring her enthusiasm and thinking once again what a privilege this part of my job was.
If anything, she’d inadvertently made the second part of my visit more difficult. Once her story had drawn to a close, I took a deep breath and spoke,
“I’m delighted everything’s going so well. There is another reason for my visit though.”
Linda looked at me expectantly.
“I had a visit yesterday from Ryan.” Her expression changed instantly to a look of apprehension. “He wanted to know where you’re living.” At this, she couldn’t contain her anxiety, and blurted out,
“You didn’t tell him!”
“No, of course not,” I replied, “we wouldn’t ever do that. But I did promise that I’d come and tell you what he said, and bring you a letter from him.”
I then recounted our brief meeting, and Ryan’s words about the help he was getting to deal with his anger. When I’d finished, I handed her Ryan’s letter. Then I sat back in silence as she opened it and began to read.
The letter covered most of three pages, and as she read it tears began to squeeze out from her eyes, and roll down her cheeks. When she’d finished, she looked up at me and asked,
“Do you think I should go back to him?”
I hesitated for a moment before answering, “Obviously I don’t know what he says in the letter, but I think you’d be taking an enormous risk if you did. Especially when you’re so happy living here, it’s an awful lot to give up in the hope that he really has changed.”
Linda’s eyes were still moist as she looked at me. “He says how sorry he is, and that he’s changed – that he loves me and that he’d never hurt me again.”
Her face took on a slightly distant expression, “You know, it was almost a relief when he hit me,” she continued. “When we first got married he was so charming, so attentive. Before long though, I could tell there was something badly wrong. There’s a sort of rage inside him, just waiting to boil over. I’d spent so long being scared that one day it would all come out in my direction. When it did, even
I knew that Linda worked in the afternoons as a classroom assistant at the small village school, so I decided to make her my first visit of the day. Hopefully she’d be in, I thought, or I’d just push the letter through the door with a note asking her to give me a call.
I parked my car alongside the village green, and walked up to the stone-built bungalow where Linda was lodging. Ringing the bell, I listened for some signs of life. The lounge curtain, which was still drawn, twitched slightly. After a moment, there was the sound of footsteps, and the door was opened. Linda Clarke stood there, a slightly relieved smile on her face.
“Hello, Jack,” she said, and moved aside to invite me into the house. I noticed that since I’d last seen her, she’d had her long blonde hair cut into a short bob. I complimented her on it as we walked into the living room.
“Thanks,” she smiled properly for the first time. “I wanted to do something to show that this is the new me.”
I sat back in the chair. “I wanted to come and see you for a couple of reasons. First, and most important, how's it going?”
For the next few minutes, I listened as Linda talked animatedly about how happy and fulfilled she was. We’d managed to find her a lodging with one of the teachers of the local school, and they had become firm friends. She loved her job, and working with the children of the school had meant that she’d quickly got to know a large proportion of the villagers. In a short time, she felt at the heart of a small but supportive community. I sat, savouring her enthusiasm and thinking once again what a privilege this part of my job was.
If anything, she’d inadvertently made the second part of my visit more difficult. Once her story had drawn to a close, I took a deep breath and spoke,
“I’m delighted everything’s going so well. There is another reason for my visit though.”
Linda looked at me expectantly.
“I had a visit yesterday from Ryan.” Her expression changed instantly to a look of apprehension. “He wanted to know where you’re living.” At this, she couldn’t contain her anxiety, and blurted out,
“You didn’t tell him!”
“No, of course not,” I replied, “we wouldn’t ever do that. But I did promise that I’d come and tell you what he said, and bring you a letter from him.”
I then recounted our brief meeting, and Ryan’s words about the help he was getting to deal with his anger. When I’d finished, I handed her Ryan’s letter. Then I sat back in silence as she opened it and began to read.
The letter covered most of three pages, and as she read it tears began to squeeze out from her eyes, and roll down her cheeks. When she’d finished, she looked up at me and asked,
“Do you think I should go back to him?”
I hesitated for a moment before answering, “Obviously I don’t know what he says in the letter, but I think you’d be taking an enormous risk if you did. Especially when you’re so happy living here, it’s an awful lot to give up in the hope that he really has changed.”
Linda’s eyes were still moist as she looked at me. “He says how sorry he is, and that he’s changed – that he loves me and that he’d never hurt me again.”
Her face took on a slightly distant expression, “You know, it was almost a relief when he hit me,” she continued. “When we first got married he was so charming, so attentive. Before long though, I could tell there was something badly wrong. There’s a sort of rage inside him, just waiting to boil over. I’d spent so long being scared that one day it would all come out in my direction. When it did, even
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