His fist came from nowhere and smashed into the side of her head. Pain exploded behind her eye, which had taken the brunt of the force. She should have seen it coming, but the truth was, she hadn’t. While their argument had been growing in velocity and spite, she’d been distracted by three-year-old Sophie who’d been trying to fork up peas. She hadn’t realized her husband had been so close to losing control.
“Mommy’s head is bleeding.”
Isobel Donnelly snatched a fine linen napkin from the table and dabbed it to her eye. “I’m fine, Ben. It’s just a little cut,” she hurried to reassure her five-and a-half-year-old son. “See, I’m fine.” She held the napkin away from her face and forced a smile, secretly alarmed at the amount of blood that stained it.
“You should have kept your goddamned mouth shut like I told you,” her husband growled from his place at the head of the table. “It’s your fault, Isobel. How many goddamned times do I have to tell you? Don’t get smart with me. It won’t work.”
Isobel clamped her mouth shut, now too scared to correct him. His fist had done the trick. They’d been discussing the pros and cons of traditional versus natural medicine. He hadn’t taken kindly to her suggestion that natural remedies had their place in a doctor’s arsenal. She’d forgotten during the heat of the discussion that Nigel always had to be right. The throbbing in her eye was a harsh reminder of her mistake.
He turned to look at her, his lip curled up in a sneer. “You’re going to have a shiner in the morning. I wonder how you’re going to explain it.” He chuckled and shook his head and returned his attention to his meal.
Isobel gritted her teeth and blinked away sudden tears. She wouldn’t cry in front of the children, no matter how much she wanted to. She couldn’t believe her life had turned into the nightmare that it was. A never-ending rollercoaster of marital highs and lows that left her feeling bewildered, tense and exhausted.
She didn’t even know how it had happened. One moment they were like any other young, happily married couple, living out their dreams. The next, she was existing in a state of constant fear, wondering when the next eruption of anger and violence would come.
The worst thing was, she didn’t have a clue what to do about it. She had no frame of reference for this kind of treatment. And there was no one she could turn to, nowhere she could run. Who would believe her if she did? For nine years now, she’d kept the dark and humiliating truth a secret, too ashamed to admit her perfect life was anything but. The cracks in her marriage had become huge chasms and the longer the façade continued, the harder it was to cover up what her life had become. She was more and more convinced she’d eventually be swallowed up by the pain, the hurt and the horror, and plummet into a deep, dark sinkhole, never to be seen again.
For the sake of her children, she kept up the pretense her marriage was made in heaven. Even her nursing colleagues at the Sydney Harbour Hospital where she worked three shifts a week were oblivious to the truth. Nigel had seen to that. He hadn’t done it directly, of course. He was way too smart for that.
It was the endless criticism, the snide remarks, the downright offensive names he’d call her friends behind their backs. She’d started off defending them. After all, they were her friends. They didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. She owed it to them to remain loyal.
But over the years, he’d worn her down until it eventually became easier to accept his biased opinion and let her friends drift quietly away. Even her best friend, Jason.
Openly gay, Jason was one of the sweetest, gentlest men she’d ever met. Right from the outset Nigel had set his mind against him. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d argued with her husband on Jason’s behalf, but the spiteful words continued to pour out of Nigel’s mouth. It got to the point where it was easier to refuse Jason’s invitations and fail to return to his calls, rather than listen to the increasingly vitriolic diatribe that Nigel would give voice to at the mere mention of her friend’s name.
It came as no surprise to Isobel that Jason was hurt and confused by her actions, but no matter how many times he pleaded with her to tell him what was wrong, she never found the courage to tell him the truth. The shame of admitting both her perfect husband and fairy tale marriage were so fatally flawed was simply beyond her.
She touched the napkin gingerly to her eye and winced at the pain. It was a good thing she mostly did the late shifts. At that time of night, all but a few of the lights in the hospital ward were turned down low. Along with the aid of some makeup, the dim lighting would help her conceal this latest assault.
“Are you okay, Mommy? You look sad,” Sophie whispered from where she sat in her highchair, residual tension still shadowing her tiny face.
Isobel’s chest went tight. Fresh tears burned behind her eyes, but once again, she refused to let them fall. “Of course, honey. Daddy and I were just having a little argument. It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“Why do you fight so much?” Ben asked, his voice scratchy with fear.
“It’s your mother’s fault. She doesn’t know when to keep her mouth shut. She can’t help herself. Why does she always want to disagree? I’m the man of this house and what I say goes. I won’t have it any other way.” Her husband turned his harsh glare on their young son. “You got that, Ben?”
Ben’s lip wobbled, but he managed a nod before dropping his gaze to his plate. Isobel’s heart broke in two. She wanted to go to her young son and tell him not to grow up and become like his father, and to offer him comfort—and she would, just not while Nigel was still in such a volatile mood. It was getting harder and harder to pretend to her children that their mommy and daddy were normal, let alone happy. It angered her to think she was teaching them that this was the way it should to be. This wasn’t the way and it wasn’t right, but she was helpless to change things. At least, that’s the way it felt. She longed for the way things used to be.
They were high school sweethearts and had married a fortnight after their graduation. Isobel’s parents had expressed their concern that the two of them were rushing into it, but she’d been head over heels in love with the hero of the football team. With his legendary charm and good humor, Nigel brushed away her parents’ fears saying he and Isobel knew best, not them.
For the first three or four years of their marriage, life was all sunshine and smiles. It had been everything she’d imagined it could be. They were both busy with their college studies and had been blissfully in love. He was her moon and her stars. He brought her flowers every other day.
If they occasionally got into a disagreement, it was quickly over and the make-up sex was sublime. It wasn’t until much later that she realized their arguments only ended when she conceded she was wrong. By then, it was too late to reflect more deeply on their relationship or remove herself: Their first baby had arrived.
Nigel hadn’t wanted kids. Looking back, she realized it had been stupid not to discuss the question before they were married. She’d just assumed it was a natural progression; that at some time down the track, they’d start a family.
It had taken three years of begging and pleading to finally wear him down. He’d given in and Ben had been born, but her husband had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with the day-to-day job of raising their son. By then, Nigel had graduated from med school and was busier than ever meeting the demands of his new job.
It had been left to Isobel to feed and bathe and clean and do the laundry and sit with her son through the night when he had a fever. On top of all that, working long shifts at the hospital and then fighting with her husband was beyond her level of endurance most of the time. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open at the dinner table and listen and smile and nod when he regaled her with tales of all his successes, accomplishments and the stream of glowing accolades from others.
For all the praise and attention he received from his colleagues at the hospital, it didn’t stop him from lashing out at her and accusing her of spending too much time with their son. She was shocked when she realized he was jealous of their baby.
“What’s for dessert?” Nigel asked and pushed away his empty plate.
Isobel stared at it. She wasn’t surprised he’d retained his appetite. If anything, their confrontations seemed to fuel his hunger, including his need for her. Later, there would be no escaping his attentions, no matter how disinterested she was.
Pushing that depressing thought aside, she stood up from the table and gathered up the dirty plates. “I made a pie.”
Nigel merely grunted. Isobel turned to her son and forced a smile. “Ben, would you bring Sophie’s plate to the sink, please?”
Her son obediently did as she asked and followed her silently into the kitchen. She set the dirty crockery down on the counter and then relieved him of his.
“Thank you, honey. Now, would you like to have some apple pie and ice cream?”
He nodded somberly, looking so much older than his five-and-a-half years. “Are you sure you’re all right, Mom? Your eye looks kind of weird.”
Reflexively, Isobel reached up and touched the tender spot. She could feel the swelling beneath her fingers. Great, just what she needed. She was rostered back on at work the next evening.
“I’m fine, honey. I already told you. Now, go and get everyone a bowl.” She gave him a gentle push in the direction of the cupboard. He turned back to face her.
“Why does Dad hurt you like that?”
Her breath caught in her throat and she closed her eyes briefly against the pain. When she opened them again, Ben was still regarding her with a solemn expression. Not knowing how to answer him, she bent down on one knee and drew him close. She held his gaze, silently imploring him to understand.
“Daddy and I love you and Sophie so much. You know that, don’t you?”
His eyes glittered with tears. His tiny shrug sent shards of pain stabbing through her heart. “I guess,” he whispered in a voice so soft she had to strain to hear him.
“Sometimes Daddy gets upset, that’s all. He doesn’t mean to hurt me. He works very hard as a doctor. He has a very difficult job. Sometimes he comes home after a long day at work and he needs to let off steam.”
Ben frowned. “What does that mean?”
Isobel fished around for an answer. “It means, instead of getting angry at his work colleagues, he yells and shouts at me. We all treat our family worse than our friends. It’s just the way it is.”
“Well, I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit.”
She breathed through the tightness in her chest and hugged him. “I don’t like it either, honey, but right now, we just have to let Daddy have his space. Now, where’s the ice cream?”
She stood and moved away from him, wishing she could wipe the bleakness from his eyes. A moment later, he turned and opened the cupboard and retrieved the ice cream bowls. With a deep breath, she strode to the freezer and tugged out the tub of double-chocolate ripple.
“Let’s have two scoops tonight, shall we?” She winked and was rewarded with the tiniest of smiles.
“Can we have some chocolate topping and cream and cherries on the top?” he asked quietly.
“Of course! Let’s do it! I’ll even let you go first.”
His smile widened and chased the shadows from his eyes. Isobel breathed a sigh of relief and wondered how long his happiness would last.