Page 63 of Unseen

“Hmmm.” Rebecca hummed with displeasure. “So he forced himself onto you then?”

I nodded. “Yes. I mean… I think so.”

“You think so?”

I blinked rapidly, trying to relegate all that I felt in tosome sort of order, all that Azriel had made me feel on that first night - no, even before that, the night I’d accosted him with my pathetic little blade, when I’d been in the position to kill him and had instead let him touch me and send me awash with pleasure.

“I let him.” I said slowly. “I… I think I did. I don’t know. I am so… bewildered by it all. I told myself I did not like it, because I shouldn’t have.”

“But you like it now?”

“I-I wouldn’t say I like it.” The words escaped me too quickly, and I swallowed hard. “But… it is not as disagreeable to me as it once was.” I let out an awkward laugh. “I mean, it’s ridiculous isn’t it? To let a man like that do those things to me? And enjoy them? What does that say about me?”

Rebecca’s mouth twitched as she frowned at me, and she sighed. “Does it bother you that he forced himself on you?”

“Yes.”

“Can you forgive him for it?”

I scoffed. “He’s a beast. An ungodly beast. He is not even worthy of forgiveness.” But neither was I, only I couldn’t tell Rebecca that. I couldn’t tell her that it wasn’t as simple as Azriel raping me, but that he had used all the cards he held in his favour to coerce me.

Rebecca sighed again, heavily, and leaned back in her chair. “I’m going to tell you something now, Mrs Caine, and I hope you’ll forgive me, and not think I’m trying to convince you of anything. But I think you ought to know.”

“Know what?”

“You know Mr Caine’s in charge of a line of businesses, down on White Horse Road?” She jerked her head in the direction of the window. “One of the things his father gave him, to try and keep him busy and stop him dealing with, well, women like me.”

“No, I did not know that. My… former husband was not forthcoming with his business dealings.”

Rebecca shrugged, and plucked another cigarette from her silver case, but did not light it, simply rolled it between her fingers as she spoke. “Well, one of those businesses is owned by a Turkish family. The Osmans. Lovely folk, beautiful fruit shop. They always have pomegranates, beats me where they bloody grow 'em though.”

I nodded, wondering where this story about a little Turkish family could be going.

“Well, about two years ago, the Osmans little girl, Amina, she got sick.” Rebecca frowned at her cigarette, and shook her head. “Very sick. It was awful to see. And well, the Osmans, they spent all their money trying to get her well. Had a right time of it. Being as it was, they had to close the business for a good long while, and then, well, they began to fall behind on rent.”

“That’s terribly sad.”

“It was. Mr Osman, he’d be pacing the street at night, crying. I’d go out and smoke a fag with him, try to calm his nerves. But he was so frightened that Mr Caine was going to toss them out onto the street. He couldn’t pay his rent no more, what was he going to do?”

I found myself leaning forward, engrossed in Rebecca’s lyrical voice and her story, this terribly sad story. “What did he do?”

“He went to see Mr Caine, to make a proper case for his family, and to promise to pay the missed rent. We was all expecting the worst, what with Mr Caine’s reputation and all.” She lifted her eyes and smiled at me. “Next thing, Mr Osman comes walking down White Horse Road crying, singing praise be to Mr Caine.”

I exhaled heavily and frowned. “Azriel showed him kindness?”

“He told Mr Osman that all missed payments were forgiven, and that the family would not have to pay rent for the next year while they got back on their feet.”

My mouth dropped open. “He what?”

“And that’s not all.” Rebecca’s mouth twitched into a grin. “Next thing you know, an ambulance comes, takes the little girl straight to the Hospital for Sick Children up Great Ormond Street. All bills to be forwarded to Mr Azriel Caine.”

“He paid for that little girl to get well again?”

“Amina made a full recovery. Was back out playing in the streets with her friends come summer.” Rebecca sighed and shook her head. “It was a miracle. And one only made possible by your good husband.” She raised her hands. “Now, I told you, I’m not excusing him. But I wanted you to see that he’s not a brute. He’s used to getting what he wants under his terms, just like any spoiled toff. But he’s not evil. He’s… well I’m going to go ahead and say it even though I shouldn’t, but he was my favourite client.”

“Even when he slapped you for daring to speak?”

Rebecca draped her arms over her legs and leaned closer to me. “Why do you suppose he did that? Why do you suppose he chose me?”

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