James was on the decking, sipping coffee and smoking a cigarette, when Elise went downstairs the following morning. She stood at the sink and watched him, trying to ascertain if he was still in a foul mood and if she should beat a quiet retreat for the day. She had almost bitten through her lip the night before, rather than risk being the spark that lit the inferno, and she’d wander the cold moors all day if it meant keeping the peace.
She had always considered James to be a remarkably well-rounded man, considering his childhood in out of children’s homes and foster care. He was a man with an abundance of patience that usually made him slow to anger and it was a trait that helped make him an excellent teacher. Yet, since they’d moved to the white house, a hostile fiery fury seemed to be burning inside him.
For the first time in all the years they’d known each other she was beginning to feel frightened of her husband.
She gathered her tools from the utility room, slipped her jacket on and went out into the front garden. The soil was soft from the recent rainfall and Elise made swift work of digging the holes she needed to plant her spring bulbs in. The weak winter sun gave off little warmth against the sharp ocean breeze, but Elise barely noticed the cold as she moved around the garden, carefully placing the bulbs in the holes she’d dug.
“Good morning, Elise,” Ben said behind her. “The garden is going to look fabulous by the time you’ve finished with it.”
“That’s the plan,” she replied, standing up and turning to smile a greeting at him. “Although, I suppose I should confess to being a complete amateur when it comes to gardening. I’m just winging it and hoping it doesn’t go horribly wrong.”
“I’m sorry you cancelled our meeting yesterday,” he said, regretfully. “I was looking forward to helping you out with your problem.”
Elise glanced around and began to lead them towards the flowerbeds near the end of the drive. “There really is no problem, Ben,” she murmured, awkwardly. “I realised I’d simply let my imagination get the better of me and I should stop being so silly. I’ve dealt in reality for far too long to start giving in to such ridiculous flights of fancy and as much as I appreciate your offer of help I’d prefer it if we didn’t talk of it again.”
Ben nodded, frowning. “I understand, Elise. Enjoy your weekend.”
She watched him walk away and she knew she’d offended him; however, she didn’t call him back to apologise. It was better this way. It was for the best that she didn’t keep seeing him when James was at work, however innocent it might be, and it was definitely not wise to let his ‘psychic’ friend visit the house. If James ever found out she’d dabbled in that kind of thing he’d never believe she hadn’t finally lost the plot completely.
She finished planting the bulbs and covering them with fertilised soil before going back into the house. James was standing in the kitchen, staring out the window, in the same place she had stood and watched him. When he turned his brow was furrowed and his grey eyes were narrowed.
She smiled, carefully and said, “I’m heading out soon, I thought I’d drive to Bodmin and get some sketches done while the weather isn’t too bad.”
“It’s fucking freezing out there,” he snapped. “Only a fool would go out on the moors on a day like today. Or maybe you think I’m foolish enough to believe that’s what you’re actually going to do.”
“It’s not that cold; I’ve already been out, gardening.” She laughed, falsely casual, and said, “Don’t be silly, James; what else do you think I’d be doing?”
His eyes were cold and steely when he looked at her. A shiver ran down her spine and her heart began to race as dread crept through her body. When he finally spoke, his voice was cold and brusque. “I don’t know, Elise. Why don’t you tell me?”
She turned to face him, clutching her hands behind her back so he wouldn’t see them trembling. “What’s brought this on? I’m going to do some sketches of the plants on the moor, what is the matter with you, James?”
“Why don’t you tell me what the problem is that Ben fucking Lancaster was so disappointed he couldn’t help you with?”
The blood drained from her face and she shifted, awkwardly. “He’s an IT specialist, James. He was going to help me choose a new laptop.”
“If you think after all these years together I can’t tell when you’re lying to me then you’re a bloody fool, Elise,” he snarled. “So I’ll ask you again, what the hell was he talking about?”
Elise busied herself shrugging her coat off as she said, “You’re being ridiculous, James. I’ve told you the truth and I’m not going to have this stupid conversation anymore.”
“Don’t treat me like I’m the fucking idiot in the room,” he said, through gritted teeth. “I’ve seen the way the two of you look at each other.”
His barely controlled anger and the unreasonable jealously in his grey eyes lit her tinderbox of resentment. Elise drew herself up and stared at him, haughtily. “Right now, you are being an idiot and I’m not going to stand here and listen to this ridiculous bullshit. I’ve never even thought about cheating on you, let alone actually done it, and I resent your completely unfounded accusations.”
With the suddenness of a volcano erupting he exploded, furiously. “I’ve been trying to work out why you would come to my room the other night after all those months of coldness that you’ve inflicted on me. It’s driven me crazy thinking about it and then I hear that dickhead from over the road talking about you cancelling your tryst and now all I can think is you were just trying to deflect me from your liaisons with him.”
“James, please, calm down,” she pleaded, quietly. “I told you, he was going to help me choose a new laptop, why would I lie to you?” Tentatively she reached out to touch him, but he batted her hand away, carelessly and crowded in on her.
“I know you’re lying to me, Elise, I can see it in your eyes,” he shouted in her face. “If you think I’m going to stand by, after all we’ve been through, and watch another man try to take you from me you can think again. This is meant to be our new start; ours…not his.”
“James, I don’t want him. I want you; didn’t the other night prove that to you?”
It was as if she hadn’t spoken; he simply carried on yelling, his breath hot against her face. “Do you think he’ll want you if he finds out you’re as mad as the March hare? Do you think he’ll stand by you if you go fucking nuts again, Elise? I’m the only one stupid enough to do that and you repay me by running around with the man over the bloody road. Perhaps, you were never the mad one, maybe it’s been me all along.”
“James, please, you’re being irrational and cruel for no reason,” she whispered, timidly. “I only said I was going to go out today because I didn’t want us to fight and I thought you looked wound up and angry. I was trying to avoid an argument like this.”
He knew she was right. He was being irrational and overreacting, but his temper was racing away from him, out of control and unstoppable. He was like a runaway train, hurtling towards his own destruction and he didn’t know how to shake off the fiery rage that consumed him.
James lifted his hand, as if to strike her, and Elise flinched away and cried out. “I’ll stay here with you if you want me to, I’ll stay all day and I won’t move from your sight…just please; stop this because you’re scaring me.”
A single tear rolled down her cheek and for an instant both of them froze in place. A memory of the photo stories in the old magazines Elise had read when she was a teenager popped into her head. It was as if the two of them had been directed into a rigid pose depicting a scene of domestic violence for a moralistic story in ‘Jackie’.
His hand struck her face with a crack that reverberated around the room, shocking them both for neither of them could believe he’d actually done it. Disgustedly, he pushed her from him and she wheeled away, towards the sink. Elise felt a bubble of hysterical laughter rise in her throat and she clapped her hand over her mouth, even as James swung away from her with his hands now covering his face. She gripped the kitchen counter, tightly, hoping it would steady her as she desperately tried not to burst into gulping sobs.
James broke the silence, his voice bewildered and tremulous. “Elise, I’m so sorry; I don’t know what came over me.”
“Just get out of here,” she muttered, shakily. “Get away from me, James.”
“Elise, please, let me see your face,” he whispered, brokenly.
“I said get out of here,” she screamed, angrily. “Get out…get out…get out!”
He fled the room and when she heard the slam of the front door she collapsed on the kitchen floor and shoved her knuckles in her mouth to contain the sobbing scream that was welling up in her throat. His motorbike roared into life a few moments later and relief flooded through her when she realised he’d really gone.
Slowly she got up and walked into the downstairs toilet to study her face in the mirror. Her left cheek was red and swollen, but luckily he had missed her eye. Gingerly, she wiped her tears away, blew her nose and went to the freezer for a bag of peas. She sat at the dining table with the bag, wrapped in a towel, pressed gently against her cheek and she let the deep silence of the house wrap itself around her.
She wished they had never come to the white house. She wished she was still at the hospital, drugged up to the eyeballs and oblivious to all the pain the world could inflict on her.
Upstairs, in the attic room, the wooden horse began to move…slowly at first then faster and faster until its frantic repetitive creaking runners rocking against the floor was all Elise could hear downstairs in the dining room. She laid her right cheek against the table and began to sob.
******
James rode to a coastal village near Land’s End and he stood and stared out at the grey churning ferocious ocean, watching the water crash against the shore before disappearing beneath the next foamy wave. He breathed in and out, timing his exhalations with the rhythm of the tides, until he began to feel the shroud of anger slip from his shoulders. He clutched the fence bar, trying to remember exactly what had happened in the kitchen with Elise, but all he could recall with any clarity was the fury that had roared inside him. The whole incident was vague and insubstantial, as if he hadn’t even been there for most of it.
Shame curdled in his gut when he remembered the fear that had been etched on Elise’s face and the pleasure he had felt when he’d hit her. For a brief few seconds he’d enjoyed the tears in her eyes as she cowered away from him. It had turned him on, he realised now.
He wondered what the hell was happening to him.