Maddy had been smiling since she opened her eyes. She thought she must have been smiling in her sleep. She knew why. Ben was lying right next to her.
She turned on her side, watched him. He was still asleep, breathing shallowly. She didn’t blame him. It was still early. The weak morning light was only just daring to creep round the thin curtains that came with the rented house. Maddy was only awake because she was too excited to sleep. For a few reasons. All of them to do with Ben.
He was sleeping on his side, his face towards her. She could feel his breath on her skin. She closed her eyes momentarily, enjoyed it as a purely sensual experience. She opened them again, resumed watching him.
I’m not weird, she thought. I’m not obsessed. I just love watching him sleep. What’s wrong with that?
She turned on her back, still smiling, glancing at him from time to time. She felt safe with Ben in her bed. Just next to her, even. Or just somewhere in the same house. If he was near her she felt that nothing and no one could get to her. That everything was going to be OK.
And the fact that he was going to help her give Gwilym his comeuppance made things even better.
She wasn’t usually a vindictive, vengeful person. Live and let live, and all that. She could usually see the good in someone, even someone who had done horrendous things. But after the previous night’s conversation with Ben, after hearing that she wasn’t the first, that Gwilym had done even worse things to other girls before her… she knew that giving someone the benefit of the doubt wasn’t always the best thing to do. Sometimes you just had to take a stand. Do something for the common good. And that was just what they were going to do with Gwilym. She wanted to make sure that no more girls went through what she had been through. And she was so happy that Ben was there to do it with her.
She moved the duvet back, turned away from him. Careful not to disturb him or wake him. She slowly slid out of bed, grabbed her thick terrycloth dressing gown, wrapped it round her naked body, put her feet into her furry slippers. If Ben hadn’t been in the bed with her she would have been wearing pyjamas and even bed socks. The house was cold. But she had him to keep her warm. Besides, she liked to feel his naked body against hers. No, she loved it.
Another night and he still hadn’t pressed her for sex. He knew she was still sore from her termination so he hadn’t pushed her. ‘When you’re ready,’ he had said, kissing her shoulders. ‘It’ll feel all the better because we’ve waited.’
She smiled at the memory. There was something about him that was so old-fashioned. Gallant, even. Or maybe she had just never had a boyfriend who treated her decently.
She made her way downstairs to the kitchen, put the kettle on. Boiled up enough water, made two mugs of tea. She put milk in, not knowing how he took it, and went back upstairs.
There was nothing worse than cold tea, she thought, but she didn’t want to wake him. Should have made it with lemon, she thought, instead of milk. That way if it went cold it would still be drinkable.
She crept over to the bed. Stood looking down at him. He was still sleeping peacefully. She smiled again. Felt something intense flutter inside her that she had never experienced before.
She placed his mug of tea carefully on the bedside table. Straightened up again. As she did so he moved, turned over. The scar on the inside of his wrist caught the light. She reached out tentatively with her free hand, stroked the ridges.
And suddenly couldn’t breathe.
Ben had woken suddenly and sat up, his hand going straight to her throat, grabbing her, squeezing and twisting. She tried to scream, to let him know it was her, that it was OK, but the only sound she made was a guttural gargle. Tea was being splashed and spilt everywhere. She looked him straight in the eye, imploring. But his eyes, those usually kind, soulful eyes, were nowhere to be seen. Instead, two dark, angry coals were staring at her like something from a horror film.
And then he realised who she was.
His grip relaxed, his hand pulled away. His eyes returned to normal.
‘Oh my God,’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry…’
He jumped out of bed, enfolded her in his arms. He looked at her, his features now the soft, familiar ones she was used to seeing. His eyes were brimming with compassion.
‘I’ve… I’ve spilt the tea…’ They were the only words Maddy could find.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘Come on. Let’s get back into bed.’
They did so, Maddy slipping out of her dressing gown and beneath the now damp duvet. She was shivering. Ben kept his arms tight round her.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘I do that when I wake up sometimes, I’ve been told. Ever since I was little.’
‘It’s OK,’ she said.
‘No,’ he said, ‘it’s not. Maddy, that was awful. I should never have done that to you. Never.’
‘It’s OK…’ The words just tumbled out. She kept repeating them like a mantra, every time he apologised. She didn’t know what else to say. She thought he didn’t either.
‘Here,’ he said eventually, leaning over to the bedside table, coming back to her. ‘Here’s my tea. Let’s share…’
They did so, Ben putting the mug to Maddy’s lips, letting her drink as if feeding a small child or a wounded animal.
The tea was finished. Ben replaced the mug. They lay together, Ben with his arms wrapped protectively round Maddy, for a long time. Neither spoke.
‘You OK?’ he said eventually.
She nodded.
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know what gets into me sometimes. Hitting out at you, Jesus. Now doing that to somebody like Gwilym I could understand. But not you.’
‘Gwilym,’ she said.
‘Yeah,’ said Ben. ‘You still up for it? Getting your own back on him?’
She nodded.
‘Good. Good to hear it.’
‘When… when shall we do it?’
‘No time like the present.’
‘Today?’
‘Why not?’
‘How?’
He smiled. ‘I’ve been thinking about that. I’ve got a plan…’
He told her. She tried to listen, to pay attention to his words. Tried not to stare at his scar as he spoke.