MInE: A Hate Story Read online

  I drift into past memories as I recount the story.

  After a few minutes, I went into the office unsure of what I would find.

  ‘Mr Bonham? I heard the commotion. Is there anything I can—?’

  ‘You can get the fuck out of my office, that’s what you can do,’ he snarled.

  I slammed my hand on his desk. ‘I warned you I wouldn’t be spoken to like that. I’ve not fucked up here.’

  His eyes widened. ‘My, Ms Briers, you certainly take risks, confronting an angry man. What if I’d have lost my temper completely?’

  I shook my head. ‘I don’t think you would. I think you know how to regain that control and harness it for use in other ways.’

  He turned away, swivelling his chair towards the window. ‘You know nothing about me.’

  I spoke to the back of his head, my voice low in tone. ‘I’ve seen how you are in your workspace, but you’re right. I don’t know anything about you. But I’m good at reading people. You like control. Today you lost it, for that brief moment when Mr Jacobs came in here. Now you’ll claw it back. I bet you already have a scheme in your head on how to get your client to retract their complaint. I know you want Jacobs in here on his knees, apologising.’

  Edward turned his chair around and narrowed his gaze. ‘You’re an intriguing assistant, Ms Briers. That’s a lot you assume about me. Perhaps you have a crush and are building me up as a hero in your mind. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened. Women like a man in a position of power.’

  I stood my ground. ‘Don’t belittle me or flatter yourself. Psychology interests me, yes. I did an A-level in the subject, and I watch programmes about it too. Watching your control is fascinating, but don’t think for one minute I’d let you take me to bed. I’m not attracted to you so don’t worry about any crushes here.’

  His jaw tightened, then relaxed. ‘Only my wife has been in my bed.’

  ‘How lovely, and so rare these days. I hope she’s as faithful as you are.’

  He jumped back in his seat.

  ‘What the hell-?’

  My smirk returned. ‘I’m just testing. I told you, I like studying people. Searching for their reactions.’

  ‘You’d be as well not studying me.’ A threat lay unspoken within his tone.

  ‘Just make sure you treat me with the same respect you do all your other business associates, and we’ll be fine. Now, I’ll leave you to concentrate on what you’re going to do to Jacobs.’

  He opens a clenched fist and massages his fingers with his other hand. ‘Why are you so interested in Jacobs?’

  ‘Because something tells me it will be extraordinary. I get bored so easily, Mr Bonham. I’ve been unable to settle to any kind of career because I find most of my employment so mind-numbingly dull. Don’t let me get bored here. I’m starting to enjoy myself.’

  ‘Call me Ed,’ he says.

  ‘For all his control, a simple bit of flattery at a weak moment and I had my way in.’

  ‘What about guilt? Do you feel guilt over your actions?’ my therapist asks.

  ‘Everything I’ve done has been justified as far as I’m concerned. He didn’t deserve to be happy, to have a happy marriage. I’ve taken from them what was taken from me. Why should they enjoy what I was denied?’

  ‘How do you know they were happy? Most married couples have fucked-up lives behind closed doors.’

  ‘Well, they thought they had it all. I witnessed enough of it.’

  ‘Maybe you only saw what you wanted to see?’

  I exhale deeply, my nostrils flaring.

  ‘Perhaps we should move on. Maybe you could tell me something of your family? What were your parents like?’

  At this, I laugh hysterically. Once I begin, I can’t stop. Tears trail down my face and my jaw hurts from laughing so hard. ‘Is that what you think therapy is? The psychotic have fucked-up childhoods that explain everything?’

  He blanches. I watch another drop of sweat trickle down his cheek. I walk over to him, lean in, and lick it off his face.

  He does his best to hold still. To give me no satisfaction from my action. Kudos. I’d have punched me.

  I sit on the edge of the desk, peering down at him.

  ‘I had an amazing childhood. My parents weren’t rich by any stretch of the imagination, but they provided for me the best they could. I was loved. I had amazing toys. Fabulous holidays at the beach. I visited them twice a week until they died.’

  ‘You lost your parents? You must have been very young. You can only be in your twenties now?’

  ‘How and when I lost my parents is not something I’m willing to discuss. I’ll get to it in due course.’

  He sighs. ‘I’m not sure what you want to get out of this therapy. Every time I ask you a question, you defer it, or you laugh at me. Is this all a joke?’

  I narrow my eyes and lean toward him. ‘It’s far from a joke. I just thought it would be good for us to chat. In a controlled environment.’

  ‘For how long? How long is this therapy session going to last? Can you answer me that question at least?’

  He shakes his arm. The chain holding his right arm to the wall rattles. He’s losing control. I don’t know how much longer I can keep him here.

  ‘It will take as long as it takes.’

  He glares at me as his urine gushes down his leg and onto the floor. My punishment for his subordination.

  I display no reaction. I leave the room, returning with a bucket, warm soapy water and a change of trousers. I don’t speak to him again for the rest of the day.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MELISSA

  February 1985

  We move into our new home on the twentieth of February nineteen eighty-five. Number twenty-three Cyclamen Crescent. A beautiful name for a beautiful crescent of houses. As a self-employed electrician, Jarrod has built a reliable reputation, leaving many almost dependent on his services. This has meant I’ve stayed home to be a housewife. To cook, clean, care for him and to do the same for our children when they arrive.

  Jarrod and I were childhood sweethearts. We met at nursery school, and our first wedding took place when we were six – in the year of decimalisation – with the class teacher as registrar and classmates as bridesmaids and guests. I doubt any of those people would believe we repeated the wedding and got married for real when we were the tender age of eighteen. Our wedding disco was filled with the sounds of Duran Duran, Spandau Ballet, and Culture Club.

  After living with Jarrod’s parents since we married, our new home is a diamond in a bed of coal. Jarrod has called in favours from his friends in the trade, and our house is stunning. I’m nervous about meeting the new neighbours, used to keeping out of the way and trying to be seen and not heard. It’s strange when people come to our door to say hello and welcome us to the crescent. We’re told it’s always been a place where neighbours are close. They’ll look out for us. Jarrod says that means they are nosy bastards, but I think it’s sweet.

  During the first week, I decide I’ll bake and take my offerings around some of the neighbours. I’m not the best cook, but my baking’s not so bad. I make several batches of jam tarts and place them in Tupperware boxes. I hope they’ll give the boxes back - they were a wedding gift.

  The first house I visit is Sandra’s. I’m informed that Sandra and her husband Dave have lived here for the past seven years. She invites me in for a cup of tea. I enter, looking around to see if any of the other neighbours’ curtains are twitching as they watch me go inside. It seems that kind of street.

  ‘I’m so glad you called around, honey. You’ve picked a lovely place to come and live. Everyone here is just so friendly. Are you newlyweds?’

  I smile and take a sip of my hot tea. ‘We’ve been married two years officially, fourteen if you count our nursery school ceremony.’ I take a worn Polaroid picture out of my bag and show her myself and Jarrod at our first ceremony. Then I take out a further photo showing us at the proper wedding.


  ‘Oh, that’s just adorable. You are both beyond cute.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Right, let’s have a couple of those jam tarts of yours to go with this tea.’ She hands me a side plate and then my own Tupperware box. ‘So, where did you live before then?’

  ‘Since the wedding, we lived with Jarrod’s parents. We had two rooms upstairs, one as a bedroom and one as a sitting room.’

  ‘Newlyweds? Sharing with the folks. That must have been difficult if you get what I mean.’ She titters.

  I blush.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to embarrass you. That’s the problem with us all getting on so well around here. We’re used to joking with each other.’

  ‘I’m sure I’ll get used to it.’ I shrug. ‘As you say, it’s just different at the moment. I kind of feel like a nursery school child again. Playing houses.’

  ‘Believe me, the novelty will wear off when you’ve done the washing for the umpteenth time, and then your husband gets home and gives you yet another set of dirty overalls, or in Dave’s case, cricket attire. That’s such a pain in the backside to clean.’

  I can’t imagine ever being bored of seeing Jarrod’s face when he smiles at me or when I bring him his meal or fold away his washing. As for the sex, we didn’t have it too often seeing as we were in his parents’ house, but that should change now, once we get settled. With all the hours Jarrod works and the fact he gets home late sometimes, I’m not going to annoy him about it. I know he loves me. He tells me every day. In the next few years, we’re going to start a family. Jarrod just wants to get a little more of a nest egg behind us as the new house has wiped out a lot of our savings.

  ‘So, once you’re settled in, a couple of times a week the guys have a card game. They take it in turns as to which house they play at. We ladies get together for an hour or two for a chat. Sometimes we’ll have a clothes party. That’s if you’re interested? I don’t want you to feel forced into anything.’

  ‘Oh no, that’ll be lovely.’ I tell her. ‘I’ll get to know the other women on the street quicker. Jarrod often works late, but I’m sure he’ll try to join in.’

  ‘Well, just so you know you are welcome anytime. Mmmm, these jam tarts are delicious, Mel.’

  Only my father and Jarrod call me Mel, so I bristle at this over-familiarity. Then I chastise myself. She’s being friendly. It’s only a name.

  I exhale. ‘Oh, I’m pleased they’re okay. I don’t cook or bake very often. I was a little nervous they’d be too dry.’

  ‘No, they’re just right. If you want a few cooking lessons, I can teach you. I do a mean meat and potato pie. Will fill that husband up a treat. He’ll be in your debt for days.’

  I laugh. I like Sandra. She can only be about five years older than me. Maybe I’ll get the nerve up to ask her the next time I see her. She’s very maternal. I hear a wail.

  ‘Oh hell, Joanne’s awake. Those afternoon naps seem to fly.’

  ‘I didn’t realise you had a child.’

  ‘Two of them. Becky’s at school. She’s five and Joanne is eighteen months. I bet it’ll be your turn soon.’

  ‘I hope so.’ I confide in her.

  ‘Would you like to meet Joanne? She might be a little grumpy at first, but once she’s had a nappy change and a bottle, she should be good for a cuddle.’

  ‘I’d love to.’

  This becomes a regular event. The odd cooking lesson, a lot of chatter with Sandra, and cuddles with the baby. I feel instantly at home with Sandra.

  Now and again I’m still around when Dave comes home from work. He’s a banker and looks so rigid and formal in his suit that the first time I see him, I shrink back.

  Then he clasps my hand in his and brings me in for a hug.

  ‘So, this is the famous Mel I’ve heard so much about lately. My wife never shuts up about you.’

  She elbows him and then goes off to make him a drink.

  ‘Seriously, Mel,’ he lowers his voice, ‘Whatever you’re doing, please keep doing it. I was worried she was getting a little lonely stuck in with the baby. You’ve brought a change to her since you started visiting.’

  ‘That’s great because I love coming around here. I was wondering if I might be overstaying my welcome.’

  ‘Not at all. Not at all,’ he tells me. ‘Now, the next thing you need to do is to get Jarrod to one of our game nights. He’s proving elusive.’

  ‘He’s just been really busy. I’ll tell him. I’m sure he’ll come along soon.’

  ‘I hope so. I want to meet the man who is fortunate to have such a fantastic wife.’

  I giggle, unsure how to handle the compliment.

  ‘You’re embarrassing her, Dave. It’s true though. You are a very sweet person. Your Jarrod is lucky to have you. Now you better go and get his tea fixed, or he’ll be calling us a bad influence.’

  I see the time. Oh, my goodness, he could be home very soon. For once I pray that he is running late on a job, so I’m not caught out.

  I rush home and reheat a spare pie I made yesterday. Sandra has been showing me batch cooking. Today it works perfectly. Her habits are rubbing off on me, as I spend more time cooking things that can be reheated to allow me to spend more time at Sandra’s. Hey, isn’t that what Tupperware is for?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  MELISSA

  June 1985.

  Jarrod laughs as he eats his dinner. ‘You never stop talking lately. It’s great you’re getting on with the neighbours. I don’t have to worry about you while I’m at work.’

  I wipe my mouth with a napkin. ‘You worry about me? Why?’

  ‘I did when we first moved here. We’d gone from being around family all the time to our own home. With me being at work so much, I thought you’d be bored rattling around here on your own.’

  I bristle and put my hand on the table, smoothing out the napkin. ‘But I love our home. I like taking care of it and you.’

  He puts his hand on mine. ‘I know you do. But being here on your own day after day would have driven you mad eventually. I thought you might start saying you wanted a job.’

  ‘No. I know how you feel about that. I’m happy to be provided for.’

  ‘I just want to look after the old lady.’

  I smack his arm. ‘Hey, you. Less of the old. I’m only twenty.’

  He slices through pie crust with his knife. ‘How are the neighbours anyway? Any gossip?’

  ‘Gaynor and Trevor are expecting,’ I inform him.

  His eyes widen. ‘The older couple from the corner house? I thought they had grown up kids?’

  ‘They do, and apparently, it’s been a huge shock. Eighteen and nineteen their sons are. She thought she was in the menopause.’

  ‘I’d get an abortion.’

  My jaw drops. ‘Jarrod. That’s a life you’re talking about.’

  ‘What about their life? They start to get time to themselves and then it’s back to nappies. Ugh.’

  ‘I was hoping we’d be joining them soon,’ I mumble quietly.

  Jarrod pushes his plate away and rubs his belly. ‘Let’s just concentrate on filling my tum for now. A couple more years, Mel. When I can afford every possible thing you’ll want and need. We’re still only young.’

  ‘Okay.’ I take the dirty plates into the kitchen.

  Jarrod comes up behind me and nibbles my neck. ‘In the meantime, we can enjoy practising.’

  He pulls my skirt up to my thighs and lowers my pants.

  I put my hands on his. ‘Jarrod, the neighbours will see.’

  ‘No they won’t.’ He leans over and pulls down the blind. ‘If any of them were looking they’ll have to decide for themselves whether I’m helping you with the dishes or your knickers.’

  ‘Jarrod!’

  ‘I want you there, Mel. Let me love you there. Please?’

  I close my eyes. I’ve only ever been with Jarrod and him with me. I’d been nervous when I’d given him his first blowjob when I was fourte
en. When we had anal sex last year at nineteen, I was surprised to find I enjoyed it.

  ‘Okay.’

  He wets his finger and moves it around the entrance of my anus as if this will be adequate lubrication. Luckily for him, I like the feeling of roughness and invasion. I’d never tell him. I’d be nervous that he’d think I was a freak. He slowly pushes into my tight hole. I feel like he’s going to rip me apart. His fingers come around the front and he strums across my clit. He plays me like a musical instrument. After all these years, he knows exactly what movement gets me to relax, and pushes further in.

  ‘Oh, Mel. Fucking hell. You’re so tight.’

  ‘Love me, Jarrod. Please.’

  He pushes me against the sink cabinet. Water from the front of the unit wets the waistband of my top. My long brown hair shakes forward with every thrust. He inserts a finger up my vagina and fucks me with it while he owns my back entrance.

  He withdraws his finger and strums my clit so hard I don’t know how his wrist doesn’t snap. The friction builds. I reach under my top and cup my bare breasts in my hands. They’re too small to need the restraint of a bra. I pinch my nipples as I head towards my crescendo.

  ‘Now, God. Now, Mel.’

  He thrusts so hard my waist is slammed into the sink. I feel the warmth of his semen as he finishes. He withdraws straight away, grabbing some kitchen towel and wiping us both up.